Flash Fiction Fills Take 50 - Part Two
Jun. 20th, 2014 09:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Two more flash fiction, ahoy! One is NSFW the other is... not quite what I intended to write but what came out of the muses. Strange how that happens sometimes. Anyway. Enjoy! Oh, and self-beta'ed.
For ladydragon76
Prompt: Sunstreaker/Sideswipe, wax-n-buff
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings for sticky, twincest, rough sex
Sideswipe starts it. Why Sunstreaker is surprised by this, he has no idea. Sideswipe, after all, is always to blame.
He's the one who innocently suggested a trip to the washracks. He's the one who offered to follow it up with a detailed wax. And he's the one who leans down, mid-buff, and licks a wet stripe up Sunstreaker's interface cover.
After that, Sunstreaker can't be held responsible for his own actions. Sideswipe asks for it, with that smug grin, that glint to his optics, the slick slide of glossa on shiny, perfect paint.
It's a goad is what it is so of course Sunstreaker grabs Sideswipe's helm and tells him to put that glossa to good use. And a use other than talking. He's already simmering from the long and thorough attention to his frame. Now Sideswipe is just being a fragging tease.
Which is only proven when Sideswipe winks an optic, extracts himself from Sunstreaker's grip, and dances out of reach.
The chase, as they say, is on. In the process, more than one piece of furniture lies in pieces, someone hollers at them to keep it down (Sunstreaker suspects Brawn), and Ratchet sends them both a warning that he's not repairing any damage this time, slag you very much.
Sunstreaker corners Sideswipe by the desk, the little sneak flirting with disaster as he thumbs his blatantly open interface panel. He teases Sunstreaker with glimpses of the tip of his spike, finger swirling over the bead of transfluid gathered there.
Is it any wonder that Sunstreaker has to pin him against the wall, slide his spike into that dripping valve and take Sideswipe hard and fast? Especially when Sideswipe moans, clutches his shoulders and begs for more in filthy words that he can't be coming up with on his own. Sunstreaker blames Jazz. When he's not blaming Sideswipe, he's always blaming Jazz.
Sideswipe's legs wrap around Sunstreaker's waist, urging him on with presses of his pedes that narrowly escape scraping Sunstreaker's new polish. Sideswipe's helm tilts back, hitting the wall with a dull thunk, baring the tempting planes of his throat. Sunstreaker, always weak to resist this temptation, leans forward, glossa and mouth tasting the hot metal and the dance of charge across his brother's frame.
Sideswipe's spike pokes against Sunstreaker's abdominal panels, streaking lubricating fluid across his armor. He is heat and static, dancing against Sunstreaker's sensors, moreso when he throws open their bond, knowing full well how weak Sunstreaker is to it.
Of course he is. It takes a stronger mech to resist the pull of pleasure and love and trust. To ignore the pulsing sensation of a spike strumming along a valve while experiencing the delicious squeeze of a rippling valve around his own spike.
Sideswipe's dorsal armor slides along with the wall with an audial-wincing screek that is sure to leave a streak of red paint behind and Sunstreaker cringes. He'll have to fix that. It's embarrassing for Sunstreaker for Sideswipe to walk out of this room anything less than perfect.
And then Sideswipe rolls his hips and Sunstreaker forgets about paint scrapes and embarrassingly loud moans and the broken chair. He thinks only about fragging Sideswipe hard enough to make him feel it come morning and then, maybe, taking Sideswipe bent over the berth for good measure.
Judging by the desire pulsing across their bond, the hunger, Sideswipe wants it just as much as Sunstreaker does.
Which, Sunstreaker suspects, had been Sideswipe's intentions all along.
Surprise, surprise.
For fuzipenguin
Prompt: G1, TwinsxSkyfire, Ain't No Mountain High Enough
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings: Character study, implied violence
A/n: So I aimed for smutty, slightly comedic pronz with that Skyfire/Twins one. And then I ended up with dark, kind of twisted, hate fic. I, uh, have no idea where I went wrong. I think I'll give that pairing another poke and come up with something happier.
Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated.
One more response to post, which became a oneshot due to being attached to another fic, go figure. And then yay! Flash fiction are posted. I'll be putting up the last piece of With Benefits this month, too.
And though I'm not ready yet, I'm just putting out an early call now to see if there's anyone interested in beta'ing a Sunstreaker-centric, IDW-based fic? I have no idea where it's going yet, save that so far it's a character study that'll have some friendship, possibly a pairing, but it's got lots of Sunstreaker. And Bob! So that counts for something, yes? Anyway, just putting that out there now so I'm not frantically putting out a call at the last minute.
For ladydragon76
Prompt: Sunstreaker/Sideswipe, wax-n-buff
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings for sticky, twincest, rough sex
Sideswipe starts it. Why Sunstreaker is surprised by this, he has no idea. Sideswipe, after all, is always to blame.
He's the one who innocently suggested a trip to the washracks. He's the one who offered to follow it up with a detailed wax. And he's the one who leans down, mid-buff, and licks a wet stripe up Sunstreaker's interface cover.
After that, Sunstreaker can't be held responsible for his own actions. Sideswipe asks for it, with that smug grin, that glint to his optics, the slick slide of glossa on shiny, perfect paint.
It's a goad is what it is so of course Sunstreaker grabs Sideswipe's helm and tells him to put that glossa to good use. And a use other than talking. He's already simmering from the long and thorough attention to his frame. Now Sideswipe is just being a fragging tease.
Which is only proven when Sideswipe winks an optic, extracts himself from Sunstreaker's grip, and dances out of reach.
The chase, as they say, is on. In the process, more than one piece of furniture lies in pieces, someone hollers at them to keep it down (Sunstreaker suspects Brawn), and Ratchet sends them both a warning that he's not repairing any damage this time, slag you very much.
Sunstreaker corners Sideswipe by the desk, the little sneak flirting with disaster as he thumbs his blatantly open interface panel. He teases Sunstreaker with glimpses of the tip of his spike, finger swirling over the bead of transfluid gathered there.
Is it any wonder that Sunstreaker has to pin him against the wall, slide his spike into that dripping valve and take Sideswipe hard and fast? Especially when Sideswipe moans, clutches his shoulders and begs for more in filthy words that he can't be coming up with on his own. Sunstreaker blames Jazz. When he's not blaming Sideswipe, he's always blaming Jazz.
Sideswipe's legs wrap around Sunstreaker's waist, urging him on with presses of his pedes that narrowly escape scraping Sunstreaker's new polish. Sideswipe's helm tilts back, hitting the wall with a dull thunk, baring the tempting planes of his throat. Sunstreaker, always weak to resist this temptation, leans forward, glossa and mouth tasting the hot metal and the dance of charge across his brother's frame.
Sideswipe's spike pokes against Sunstreaker's abdominal panels, streaking lubricating fluid across his armor. He is heat and static, dancing against Sunstreaker's sensors, moreso when he throws open their bond, knowing full well how weak Sunstreaker is to it.
Of course he is. It takes a stronger mech to resist the pull of pleasure and love and trust. To ignore the pulsing sensation of a spike strumming along a valve while experiencing the delicious squeeze of a rippling valve around his own spike.
Sideswipe's dorsal armor slides along with the wall with an audial-wincing screek that is sure to leave a streak of red paint behind and Sunstreaker cringes. He'll have to fix that. It's embarrassing for Sunstreaker for Sideswipe to walk out of this room anything less than perfect.
And then Sideswipe rolls his hips and Sunstreaker forgets about paint scrapes and embarrassingly loud moans and the broken chair. He thinks only about fragging Sideswipe hard enough to make him feel it come morning and then, maybe, taking Sideswipe bent over the berth for good measure.
Judging by the desire pulsing across their bond, the hunger, Sideswipe wants it just as much as Sunstreaker does.
Which, Sunstreaker suspects, had been Sideswipe's intentions all along.
Surprise, surprise.
For fuzipenguin
Prompt: G1, TwinsxSkyfire, Ain't No Mountain High Enough
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings: Character study, implied violence
Skyfire didn't like the twins at first. They were loud. Brash. Boastful. And they looked on him with open disdain. Not because he had joined the Deceptions, but because he was big and strong but hopeless in war. For two mechs like Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, a Cybertronian's worth was measured by his ability on the battlefield.
In other words, the distaste was mutual. Skyfire was content to put as much distance between himself and Sunstreaker and Sideswipe as possible. It worked out for the best as Sunstreaker always seemed a hair trigger away from violence and Sideswipe could be cruel behind that friendly smile.
If he had to pinpoint a moment when his opinion changed, Skyfire probably thinks it was when he was helping out Ratchet in the medbay and bore uncomfortable witness to the sight of Sunstreaker stricken with worry and two shades from offlining. That the twins are frequent visitors to Ratchet's domain is no secret. Sideswipe usually because of some hare-brained scheme and Sunstreaker because of something Sideswipe involved him in or some made up issues with his paint job. Seriously, the golden frontliner could be worse about imagined ills than Gears.
Not that Skyfire would ever claim such a thing aloud. He isn't suicidal.
Skyfire, by virtue of his training in field medicine, found himself press-ganged into assisting the understaffed medical team after yet another clash with the Decepticons. A never-ending clash, he had remarked to himself bitterly. Imagine fighting a war for so long, a war that never ends and seems to have no purpose.
They aren’t fighting over anything! Not land or wealth or freedom! They're just fighting to be fighting. And Skyfire has learned of the impossibility of neutrality, that he has to pick a side, and he chose the Autobots because at least then he is working to protect the innocent organics, even if the Autobots are no less to blame for the war than the Decepticons.
That, however, is a tangent. Back to the medbay.
Relationships are rare amongst the Autobots. There are a few close friendships, a few steady partners, but true pairings? True romance? It's so rare as to be nonexistent. Skyfire has heard rumors, but he's still new enough he's not willing to stir the Insecticon nest yet.
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are not so much a relationship as they are two halves of the same spark. Whether they choose to be or not, they will always be connected. They will always matter to each other. Will one perish if the other extinguishes? Skyfire doesn't know. He doesn't have much experience with spark-split twins and for all he knows, that's just a sparkling's story. But it's very clear that story or not, one might not survive without the other.
It's a dangerous thing, Skyfire remembers thinking as he watches Sunstreaker hover at Sideswipe's medberth side, looking ashen and weak. It's dangerous to care for another mech in times of war. It's dangerous and scary and foolish and yet, here these two are, together against all odds, throwing themselves into the thick of battle despite knowing the threat of death that awaits them.
And he knows that this is hardly the first time one twin has sat beside another, waiting for Ratchet to perform another miracle. That he always does is one of the reasons their faith in him is so strong. But Skyfire takes one look and knows that deep beneath, in the depths of their spark, there's a ripple of concern that this is when their luck runs out.
It makes him think, makes him wonder.
It doesn't instantly make him seek out their friendship. Skyfire still finds it safer to keep a distance between himself and the twins, but now, there is fascination. He watches them, from across the rec room and as subtly as possible. He finds himself seeking the skies for their reckless ways in the midst of battle. He reads about their exploits in the Ark's records, which is also partly an attempt to educate himself on the ongoing clash between Autobot and Decepticon.
He doesn't understand Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Then again, he doesn't understand most residents of the Ark and definitely every resident of the Nemesis. But the twins are of specific confusion because of all the Autobots, they are some of the few that are classically trained for battle.
It's a well-known fact. The Decepticons are comprised mainly of former soldiers, gladiators, mercenaries and warriors-trained. There are a few exceptions to the rule but the majority are born and bred into violence and know how to mete it out.
The Autobots, by contrast, are a motley collection of data analysts, merchants, artisans – civilians, to put it simply. There are a few who can claim otherwise – Ironhide and Cliffjumper to name a few – but for the most part, they are mechs who reluctantly engage in combat and it shows.
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, by all accounts, should be Decepticons. Skyfire's read what history is publicly available. He's studied their temperament, their skills. Sunstreaker and Megatron even used to be friends, ages and ages ago! There have been many comments, aloud and subvocally, that the twins joined the wrong team, so to speak.
Yet, here they are, fighting alongside the Autobots, day after day, risking that which they hold most precious. Skyfire wonders why, and then he asks himself, the whole war is pointless at this point. Does it matter what each individual motivation is?
For the sake of his sanity, he decides it doesn't. His own choices may have a basis in logic and reasoning, but he suspects that the longer he stays here, he'll get infected by the same insanity that plagues Autobots and Decepticons alike. It's not an enticing prospect but he sees little other options.
Cybertron is dead and according to the records, the Universe hates Cybertronians. The prospect of spending the next several thousand millennia alone (like the ice, frozen and empty and alone) is just unappealing enough to tip the scales in favor of playing an endless taxi for the Autobots.
Better then, Skyfire resolves, to keep doing what he's always done: keep his distance.
And that works. For the most part.
Until he turns around in his shared laboratory one day and nearly suffers from spark failure to see Sunstreaker standing there, examining a half-finished reproduction of a piece of medical equipment Ratchet had requested. Skyfire hadn't heard the doors open or the mech walk in or even felt Sunstreaker's energy field. And he is quite sure that he hadn't been concentrating that hard.
He towers over Sunstreaker by nearly twice the mech's frame and yet, Skyfire's the one who feels small when those bright optics gradually shift toward him. There's quiet menace coiled in the yellow twin's frame and Skyfire is very much aware of that. He's seen the twins take down mechs much larger than themselves. It's not a stretch to guess he wouldn't stand a chance against them. And even though he can't see Sideswipe, he's not going to assume that the red twin isn't here.
“Um,” Skyfire says, appalled at his own lack of coherent speech. “Can I help you?”
Must. Not. Offend. The warning reverberates in his processor.
“I dunno.” Sunstreaker taps a finger against a piece of metal, the light chime ringing through the laboratory. “Seems we're the ones that can help you, considering the way you've been staring.”
He gives Skyfire a sideways look, one orbital ridge raised.
Too late does Skyfire recognize the use of 'we'.
“The humans have a saying,” Sideswipe says from where he's lounging as he leans against a desk. “Curiosity killed the cat.” He flashes a smile that an ignorant mech might take as friendly.
“We don't know what you're looking for,” Sunstreaker continues and Skyfire has to take a step back, angle his frame, so he can see both of them at once. He feels more than a little cornered.
“We don't care either,” Sideswipe says. “But if you think we're some kind of kindred spirit, you'd be wrong.”
“And if you think you can figure us out, well, better mechs than you have tried,” Sunstreaker says with a grimace that Skyfire's gradually parsed is Sunstreaker's version of a smile.
“I wasn't--”
His protest is cut off before he can even get started, though Skyfire has no idea what he's protesting because he's not quite sure what he's being accused of doing.
“You were,” Sideswipe says and pushes himself off the desk, every motion languid but with a purpose buried beneath. “So keep your optics to yourself and we won't have any problems, clear?”
They're glaring at him now and Skyfire's not so dumb as to not recognize this for the threat it is. Oh, they won't do anything permanent. Nothing to get them on the wrong side of Prowl's justice. But they are devious pitspawns that can make his existence the Pit on Earth, even worse than he has it already.
“Crystal,” Skyfire says, relying on the human vernacular that Sideswipe seems to favor so much. He'll have to thank Bumblebee for the datapad that helps ensure he understands their half of the conversation.
“Good.” And Sunstreaker gives another one of those grimacing smiles that chills Skyfire down to his backstrut. “Then we understand each other.”
Well, Skyfire's not sure about that. He knows he stepped in something, but not what. Nor is he sure what issue has left rust in their tailpipes. But he does know what happens when Sideswipe or Sunstreaker feel threatened and he doesn't want to invite that kind of retaliation on himself.
“Yes, we do,” Skyfire says.
They leave, much more obviously than the manner they'd used to sneak in. Their words linger in Skyfire's audials and he doesn't bother to protest the shiver that creeps down to his spark. It takes several long moments before he can concentrate enough to get back to work.
Skyfire hadn't liked the twins at first. And he doesn't much like them now.
Fortunately, it seems, that feeling is mutual.
In other words, the distaste was mutual. Skyfire was content to put as much distance between himself and Sunstreaker and Sideswipe as possible. It worked out for the best as Sunstreaker always seemed a hair trigger away from violence and Sideswipe could be cruel behind that friendly smile.
If he had to pinpoint a moment when his opinion changed, Skyfire probably thinks it was when he was helping out Ratchet in the medbay and bore uncomfortable witness to the sight of Sunstreaker stricken with worry and two shades from offlining. That the twins are frequent visitors to Ratchet's domain is no secret. Sideswipe usually because of some hare-brained scheme and Sunstreaker because of something Sideswipe involved him in or some made up issues with his paint job. Seriously, the golden frontliner could be worse about imagined ills than Gears.
Not that Skyfire would ever claim such a thing aloud. He isn't suicidal.
Skyfire, by virtue of his training in field medicine, found himself press-ganged into assisting the understaffed medical team after yet another clash with the Decepticons. A never-ending clash, he had remarked to himself bitterly. Imagine fighting a war for so long, a war that never ends and seems to have no purpose.
They aren’t fighting over anything! Not land or wealth or freedom! They're just fighting to be fighting. And Skyfire has learned of the impossibility of neutrality, that he has to pick a side, and he chose the Autobots because at least then he is working to protect the innocent organics, even if the Autobots are no less to blame for the war than the Decepticons.
That, however, is a tangent. Back to the medbay.
Relationships are rare amongst the Autobots. There are a few close friendships, a few steady partners, but true pairings? True romance? It's so rare as to be nonexistent. Skyfire has heard rumors, but he's still new enough he's not willing to stir the Insecticon nest yet.
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are not so much a relationship as they are two halves of the same spark. Whether they choose to be or not, they will always be connected. They will always matter to each other. Will one perish if the other extinguishes? Skyfire doesn't know. He doesn't have much experience with spark-split twins and for all he knows, that's just a sparkling's story. But it's very clear that story or not, one might not survive without the other.
It's a dangerous thing, Skyfire remembers thinking as he watches Sunstreaker hover at Sideswipe's medberth side, looking ashen and weak. It's dangerous to care for another mech in times of war. It's dangerous and scary and foolish and yet, here these two are, together against all odds, throwing themselves into the thick of battle despite knowing the threat of death that awaits them.
And he knows that this is hardly the first time one twin has sat beside another, waiting for Ratchet to perform another miracle. That he always does is one of the reasons their faith in him is so strong. But Skyfire takes one look and knows that deep beneath, in the depths of their spark, there's a ripple of concern that this is when their luck runs out.
It makes him think, makes him wonder.
It doesn't instantly make him seek out their friendship. Skyfire still finds it safer to keep a distance between himself and the twins, but now, there is fascination. He watches them, from across the rec room and as subtly as possible. He finds himself seeking the skies for their reckless ways in the midst of battle. He reads about their exploits in the Ark's records, which is also partly an attempt to educate himself on the ongoing clash between Autobot and Decepticon.
He doesn't understand Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Then again, he doesn't understand most residents of the Ark and definitely every resident of the Nemesis. But the twins are of specific confusion because of all the Autobots, they are some of the few that are classically trained for battle.
It's a well-known fact. The Decepticons are comprised mainly of former soldiers, gladiators, mercenaries and warriors-trained. There are a few exceptions to the rule but the majority are born and bred into violence and know how to mete it out.
The Autobots, by contrast, are a motley collection of data analysts, merchants, artisans – civilians, to put it simply. There are a few who can claim otherwise – Ironhide and Cliffjumper to name a few – but for the most part, they are mechs who reluctantly engage in combat and it shows.
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, by all accounts, should be Decepticons. Skyfire's read what history is publicly available. He's studied their temperament, their skills. Sunstreaker and Megatron even used to be friends, ages and ages ago! There have been many comments, aloud and subvocally, that the twins joined the wrong team, so to speak.
Yet, here they are, fighting alongside the Autobots, day after day, risking that which they hold most precious. Skyfire wonders why, and then he asks himself, the whole war is pointless at this point. Does it matter what each individual motivation is?
For the sake of his sanity, he decides it doesn't. His own choices may have a basis in logic and reasoning, but he suspects that the longer he stays here, he'll get infected by the same insanity that plagues Autobots and Decepticons alike. It's not an enticing prospect but he sees little other options.
Cybertron is dead and according to the records, the Universe hates Cybertronians. The prospect of spending the next several thousand millennia alone (like the ice, frozen and empty and alone) is just unappealing enough to tip the scales in favor of playing an endless taxi for the Autobots.
Better then, Skyfire resolves, to keep doing what he's always done: keep his distance.
And that works. For the most part.
Until he turns around in his shared laboratory one day and nearly suffers from spark failure to see Sunstreaker standing there, examining a half-finished reproduction of a piece of medical equipment Ratchet had requested. Skyfire hadn't heard the doors open or the mech walk in or even felt Sunstreaker's energy field. And he is quite sure that he hadn't been concentrating that hard.
He towers over Sunstreaker by nearly twice the mech's frame and yet, Skyfire's the one who feels small when those bright optics gradually shift toward him. There's quiet menace coiled in the yellow twin's frame and Skyfire is very much aware of that. He's seen the twins take down mechs much larger than themselves. It's not a stretch to guess he wouldn't stand a chance against them. And even though he can't see Sideswipe, he's not going to assume that the red twin isn't here.
“Um,” Skyfire says, appalled at his own lack of coherent speech. “Can I help you?”
Must. Not. Offend. The warning reverberates in his processor.
“I dunno.” Sunstreaker taps a finger against a piece of metal, the light chime ringing through the laboratory. “Seems we're the ones that can help you, considering the way you've been staring.”
He gives Skyfire a sideways look, one orbital ridge raised.
Too late does Skyfire recognize the use of 'we'.
“The humans have a saying,” Sideswipe says from where he's lounging as he leans against a desk. “Curiosity killed the cat.” He flashes a smile that an ignorant mech might take as friendly.
“We don't know what you're looking for,” Sunstreaker continues and Skyfire has to take a step back, angle his frame, so he can see both of them at once. He feels more than a little cornered.
“We don't care either,” Sideswipe says. “But if you think we're some kind of kindred spirit, you'd be wrong.”
“And if you think you can figure us out, well, better mechs than you have tried,” Sunstreaker says with a grimace that Skyfire's gradually parsed is Sunstreaker's version of a smile.
“I wasn't--”
His protest is cut off before he can even get started, though Skyfire has no idea what he's protesting because he's not quite sure what he's being accused of doing.
“You were,” Sideswipe says and pushes himself off the desk, every motion languid but with a purpose buried beneath. “So keep your optics to yourself and we won't have any problems, clear?”
They're glaring at him now and Skyfire's not so dumb as to not recognize this for the threat it is. Oh, they won't do anything permanent. Nothing to get them on the wrong side of Prowl's justice. But they are devious pitspawns that can make his existence the Pit on Earth, even worse than he has it already.
“Crystal,” Skyfire says, relying on the human vernacular that Sideswipe seems to favor so much. He'll have to thank Bumblebee for the datapad that helps ensure he understands their half of the conversation.
“Good.” And Sunstreaker gives another one of those grimacing smiles that chills Skyfire down to his backstrut. “Then we understand each other.”
Well, Skyfire's not sure about that. He knows he stepped in something, but not what. Nor is he sure what issue has left rust in their tailpipes. But he does know what happens when Sideswipe or Sunstreaker feel threatened and he doesn't want to invite that kind of retaliation on himself.
“Yes, we do,” Skyfire says.
They leave, much more obviously than the manner they'd used to sneak in. Their words linger in Skyfire's audials and he doesn't bother to protest the shiver that creeps down to his spark. It takes several long moments before he can concentrate enough to get back to work.
Skyfire hadn't liked the twins at first. And he doesn't much like them now.
Fortunately, it seems, that feeling is mutual.
A/n: So I aimed for smutty, slightly comedic pronz with that Skyfire/Twins one. And then I ended up with dark, kind of twisted, hate fic. I, uh, have no idea where I went wrong. I think I'll give that pairing another poke and come up with something happier.
Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated.
One more response to post, which became a oneshot due to being attached to another fic, go figure. And then yay! Flash fiction are posted. I'll be putting up the last piece of With Benefits this month, too.
And though I'm not ready yet, I'm just putting out an early call now to see if there's anyone interested in beta'ing a Sunstreaker-centric, IDW-based fic? I have no idea where it's going yet, save that so far it's a character study that'll have some friendship, possibly a pairing, but it's got lots of Sunstreaker. And Bob! So that counts for something, yes? Anyway, just putting that out there now so I'm not frantically putting out a call at the last minute.
