prevailinghatred

[prevailinghatred]

Had to step away from this blog the past couple weeks for mental and emotional health reasons. I'd like to come back soon, but I can't speak for how prompt my return will be.

[prevailinghatred]

He's with Ratchet on this one. Megatron is sitting out this party, not the least of reasons being he has little patience to babysit drunken mecha, and equally little desire to suffer the secondhand embarrassment of the so-called 'antics' he's sure he'll be hearing about in excessive detail afterwards.

[prevailinghatred]

Do you remember when...

We first met?

"How could I forget? But I'm fairly certain I never looked like that," his response is wry, but the slightest bit bittersweet as the question prompted him to recall the difficult feelings of that day.

He could only assume this must be a picture of the Terminus and Megatron of a different day and age that he was looking at, but the familiarity with which they stood together couldn't be understated. He's choosing to ignore that Autobot insignia on the other Megatron's chest. That hypothetical development just didn't bode thinking about.

To think society's assigned meaning for their existence had been to mindlessly drone in the darkness, supporting their race with the fruits of his labor until they offlined themselves in disrepair and neglect. Megatron had much to be proud of, to have liberated himself and the others from that situation; but work of a different flavor still waited on the horizon. The structures of their society that had led to such enslavement were still in place, and would need dismantling and rebuilding when he became ruler of Cybertron, if he didn't want to perpetuate the same future for other newsparks. Which, he most certainly did not.

He was grateful that Terminus had somehow managed to escape the ravages of war as long as he had.

"When I'm ruler of Cybertron, you can expect a comfortable position in my cabinet of advisors," and he meant that. If anyone deserved his regular audience and respect, it was Terminus.

"There are few mecha whose opinions I value as much as I do yours."

[prevailinghatred]

D's first instinct when given direction of any sort was to argue, but for Terminus and Terminus alone would he quietly settle in at his side — mirroring the older miner's actions as he also withdrew the bit he'd acquired shortly into his imprisonment and snapped it into a port on his forearm with click.

His lips twisted on his face, and he kept opening his mouth as if to begin talking, but what could he say? The impulse is to hurriedly answer 'no way, they wouldn't just leave us to offline — they couldn't—' but in light of all he'd seen the past several months, it would be foolishness to continue thinking that. Despair, he'd learned was the name of this numbing sadness that was beginning to inch into his awareness — and it was a feeling he'd fought valiantly against at every turn. He stood there in the darkness as Terminus turned his back to him and began working, letting himself acknowledge the feeling for what it was.

Despair was the precursor to self-pity and the surrender to one's circumstances, and it was an emotion he felt in the fields of all his brothers and sisters at Spark whenever he was around them in public gathering spaces; precious few had found small joys in their situation, as he had. And most older miners kept their fields wrapped tightly around them like cloaks, but he could well imagine that they all felt it based on how they acted. Terminus wasn't the only one who looked so dour and rarely smiled; who trudged from task to task like a mech condemned.

He dutifully continued to comm the surface, in the waning hopes that someone might pick up on their distress signal. No matter the sureness of Terminus's tone, he couldn't give up now; to give up would be the death of the spirit. But he could do both, couldn't he? Do something to free himself, at the same time he continued to hope that someone might care enough to rise to their rescue? And so, he takes a position beside Terminus and begins to drill as well. Sparks and rock fly as their drills connect with the cavern wall, burning dancing after-shadows into their unprotected optics. As best he can, D is stealing a glance at his mentor as they work; surreptitiously monitoring the old miner's condition, and ready to withdraw the ration cube at a moment's notice.

He abruptly reached for him via commlink. There was no use attempting to speak, or even to shout, above the cacophony of noise that bored relentlessly into his sensitive audials as they continued to drill.

[ txt: ] What happened the last time you were involved in a cave-in? What makes you so sure that they're not coming for us?

Against his better judgment he's asking, even despite knowing it might stir up a difficult memory for Terminus to relive. But he hoped that by asking him this, he might arm himself with the other's experience — all the better to prepare himself for this situation in the inevitability it would happen again.

Optimism. The younger miner has been dripping in it upon his arrival, often whispering affirmations to the old-hand. Terminus did his best not to quash any of the lad's hopes of an industrious future, but it appeared to be slowly draining from his optics as the constant barrage of abuse befell them all. He'd done his best to hold his glossa, but his actions had shown otherwise. Hell this whole operation had done that on its own. But as he cradled his protege in his arms as their world crumbled around him, he resolved to change his stance. He would take it upon himself to elicit some form of change one way or another. D16 gave him hope that had long since died.

The collapse lasted but a mere moment, but it felt like an eternity. His old frame, built to withstand the metaphorical weight of the world, was being battered. But it was well worth it. D would be their champion, Primus be damned - if they survived. The stakes were too high to fail. They must survive.

"I-im fine," he responded earnestly. He tended to his wounds, systems scanning for anomalies as he choked on the sediment that clogged his vents. Nothing other than minor dents and superficial lacerations. He helped the other to his pedes as he began to analyze their situation. It was an impossibility to dig themselves through the entrance that had been blocked with rubble. They could either boar through a weaker wall and hope to find an adjacent tunnel, or dig deeper.

His optics fell onto the other as he desperately sought assistance from the surface. He placed a soft hand gingerly upon D's shoulder with a solemn shake of the helm. "It's futile. They're not coming kid... We're on our own."

As quickly as he'd placed his servo upon the mech's shoulder, it was removed. He winced as he retrieved his drill bit from his subspace and clicked it into his forearm with a snap. It whirred to life as he plunged his arm into an adjacent wall. It wasn't the safest option, but there was no other way.

"Lucky for you, it's not my first rodeo."

And to be honest, it wasn't. Cave-ins although rare, were an unfortunate and dangerous part of the job. Terminus had never faced anything nearly this challenging yet - but it was either press forward and adapt, or lie down and die.

"Our best option is to try to tunnel west. Given our proximity, we've got a ways to go but we'll wind up in the morgue. You still have those spare rations? We're going to need them. I'd wager it's at least 3 solar cycles worth of work, depending on how strong the walls are."

And with that, he engaged his helm lights and fist met wall once more.

[prevailinghatred]

ooc | It's been an... eventful past few weeks for me, and next week is planning to be more eventful still.

Got my tax return, and started making moves to get a motorcycle after actual months irl of talking about it / dreaming about it. Not to mention work has been exhausting, and setting up my multimuse has been taking all available energy after work most days. 😭 Also also my mood wasn't great for a couple weeks and I was dutifully avoiding social interaction to spare y'all that. >_>

ANYWAYS.. god willing things will start getting stable soon. I got 14hrs sleep last night and that drastically helped the exhaustion + energy.

[prevailinghatred]

self-care phrases to boost your confidence

this shit ain't nothin to me man

I'll fucking kill you

.

[prevailinghatred]

@tacticturn

Uncertainly rumbles his engine, with a weird look on his face. Certainly it wasn't contentment; perhaps it reads closer to concentration. He'd never attempted to produce such a sound, before; but hearing her make it when she was with him, and after asking its cultural meaning — well.

He's trying to 'speak her language', if you will.

He broke off the unsuccessful purr with a rough cough and hack, bringing a fist to his intake to stifle it. He'd choked on his own lubricants, in his attempts to replicate the sound.

After a moment's more coughing, he finally cleared his intake and tried his voice. "Tell me how to do it one more time. I —" Cough. "— I think that was my closest attempt yet."

[prevailinghatred]

Despite the difference in their sizes, even when he's sitting, Starscream still treats the warlord like he's the perfect size for holding. And to her? He is. Coming up from behind him where he's seated at his desk, she wraps her arms around him as and rests her cheek against his back with a quiet, affectionate, trill. "My love... it's long past what I would call late... surely whatever you're working on won't expire for the night... Come on, I recharge better in your arms and the berth is cold and lonely without you."

Megatron was nothng if not single-minded, when it came to his self-given directives. He focused on large tasks to the point of losing sight of those things which were on his periphery, if he wasn't careful. It was one of the things that had dissuaded him from taking on a long-term partner for most of these long years.

How could he hope to juggle an intimate relationship and the demands of his office? But then, Star was different in so many ways, wasn't she? She was the closest thing to a day one Decepticon as any other officer in his ranks; only such mechs as Soundwave and Shockwave could possibly hope to rival her longevity, her dedication, and yes — even her loyalty. Of all mechs to become involved with, at least he'd chosen one who would know the particular burdens of his occupation like no other.

This evening, he had been visualizing their off-planet supply chain of Energon that they could expect to begin receiving from his most recently commissioned scouting mission, and was not only busy allocating the appropriately specialized forces to the task of mining it and transporting it back, but also was attempting to time the shipments of such so that they could have a consistent supply. It was moments like this where he couldn't help but feel a sense of wry irony — him, a former miner, in some ways becoming an 'overseer' of a mining operation. He could only hope that his operations ran more humanely than the one he'd had the misfortune of being involved in as a younger mech.

He wrenched his optics away from his screen and tiredly rubbed them. Once again, his mind turned to his Second in Command — his girlfriend — as it had been trying to, moments before. Loyal was a word he wouldn't have associated with Starscream even as recent as a year ago, but there was no denying it was true. Understanding. Doting. Loving. All further words he'd discovered of her in the past few months he'd had the privilege of being with her.

He regretted leaving her to recharge alone, but — only a moment more, he told himself. A moment more, just a few more assignments, then he would come to berth.

Slender arms tenderly slipped round his chassis from behind, and he stiffened in surprise only a moment before relaxing into her embrace, allowing her to bear a little of his weight as he pressed back against her.

"It wasn't my intention, for you to wait on me," he said, and his smile mingles with exhaustion in his voice.

He sets his large servos over hers, where she'd rested them on his abdomen.

"Could you feel me thinking of you?"

[prevailinghatred]

PSA | Ah, apologies for randomly ducking off this blog but I wanted to shift gears for a second and do some stuff with my multi @1-800-for-evil (which is almost fully set up, by the way!)

I'm trying to prioritize getting that off the ground again after a two-three year hiatus so as you can well imagine there's a lot of cleanup to do and that's why it's kept me busy for the past two-three odd weeks.

Just wanted to say I haven't forgotten abt Mega, nor the threads I owe, I've just been doing other things! 😭 And when that blog is fully setup, I'll resume mixed activity on my. Three active RP blogs. 💀

[prevailinghatred]

We don’t talk enough about how fanfiction writers love to give character large amounts of non-specific paperwork they hate doing

[prevailinghatred]

Little quick sketch trying to figure out how to visualize this happy thing that Megatron (prevailinghatred) makes her do

[prevailinghatred]

PSA / MOBILE | For those of you wondering abt the slow activity here the past week… I’m working on refreshing my old multimuse! I’ll be doing a full rework, almost from the ground up. New rules, new muses, updated pages, cleaned up existing muses, fresh graphics, new icons, the whole shebang.

I’ll be a smidge slow here on Mega’s blog until I get that done because I’m excited to bring back / introduce some of these guys to yall! Esp those of you who only knew me from Mega’s blog lol.

The current url is @skewed-logic but that WILL be changing in the next several days!!

[prevailinghatred]

"It seems to me the Mistress would have you believe that your 'place' is fully subservient to her whims — and further, she had counted on you failing your mission." Megatron was keen to cut through the flimsy defenses Windblade had hastily concocted on the Mistress's behalf.

"It feels like she put this all on your shoulders so in the event of failure she could point to you and say that you hadn't done all that you could. That you were their only hope, and in your failure so too their assured destruction. When the reality was she couldn't make decisions at the expense of her ego, but which might save her People."

Megatron was silent for a second, letting the harshness and perception of those words sink in, before he once again dipped his helm in acquiescence and gestured vaguely with his servos. Figuratively setting the matter aside, that they might return to it at a later point in the evening or perhaps later in their search for the others that had some knowledge of the Camien state of being.

He indicated the open doorway, as much a severance from the topic of the Mistress's ineptitude as a leader as it was a symbolic step in their partnership. On the other side of that doorway, they'd begin the first chapter in what was sure to be a lengthy quest for answers.

"Lead the way."

Her relief was doomed to be short lived. Windblade could already tell, sensing the settling shame and guilt from having gone against the wishes of the Mistress. But she refused to believe that anything that might get her closer to helping her people could be wrong— especially when nobody but her was at risk in this situation.

She was the one facing the threats of a completely strange world, far away from home, walking into a war between factions of Cybertronians who —from what Primus showed her— cared little about the lives of her people.

This wasn't something she'd been warned about when she became a Cityspeaker, but someone had to do it.

And Megatron, despite all the stories she'd heard, was willing to help her on her mission.

Windblade's lips pressed into a thin line when he mentioned the Mistress answering for her own actions. It was second nature to want to protect the leader that she'd been told her whole life represented the will of the thirteen Primes, who were practically deities to Camiens. But Windblade knew better— she told herself she knew better. Regardless of how many times she'd been told to not speak such things out loud, the Mistress was flawed, mortal just like everyone else; and so had been the Primes.

After all, if they had been as great as most Camien texts depicted them to be, they would have surely done something to assist the colony.

"I simply know my place," Windblade said when he called her courageous. This wasn't about courage, it was about what she could and couldn't achieve on her own. About knowing her limits, knowing when it was time to seek more experienced leadership. "And I know that while good leaders must be respected, a leader that fails time and time again to do what is right for their people must be questioned."

She was happy to circle back to the task at hand.

"I managed to put a tracker on one of them, the one called Blackjack," she said. "He worries me the most, as he used to be a Cityspeaker, known for his cruelty before he was... forcefully removed from the role on account of multiple reports of unnecessary force when dealing with Titans and mechs. He fled Caminus to avoid consequences, and I am convinced he is not above dooming the colony to once again save himself from facing the consequences of his own actions. The signal indicates he is on the ship."

[prevailinghatred]

@noiizemaze replied to your post.

“Barney’s easier on the optics than you are.”

"Oh? And do you spend very much time looking at that misshapen thing? Perhaps you derive pleasure from its appearance because it reminds you so much of your own — low-brow, and simple that you are..."

[prevailinghatred]

"So help me Primus, if one more Earth Creature dares speak the name Barney to my face, I'll eat them where they stand!"