#doddering-egoist

[quantumlogician]

continued » @doddering-egoist

Given the very few rumors Starscream had heard of this mech in particular, he anticipated a more hesitant, repulsed reaction to such a claim. Maybe no strokes of violence, but certainly the passing thought of so.

" Mm, " the previously pleased, self-satisfied smug falls into a pensive one, " companionship.... Against your will. "

Yes, that will surely draw a funnier reaction.

[iaconsavior]

Ew. Miners DNI

[cybertronsiren]

So, line up, the party's over here Come one, come all, jump into the fire

Open mic night? No, sorry. His mic night. He might not have a sold out auditorium or stadium for his performances anymore, but that doesn't mean when the Rusted Barrel had the stage open for one night of the month he was going to let a good time pass him by.

Step up, we are whatever we wanna be We are free, that's all we desire

Besides! No one knew him out here. Just another displaced Cybertronian in a back quadrant space port, jamming out on stage, and able to drop a few songs for the eventual Come Back Tour of a Golden Era icon.

When you pass through the veil of fantasy There's a world with a rhythm for you and me

Sure, it wasn't tens of thousands of sparks resonating emotions like the endorphins of a sparkbond, but, eh. It'll do. Better than hum singing new lyrics alone.

@doddering-egoist

[saffronsass]

Friend!

[lastofthirteen]

@doddering-egoist liked this post for a starter!

--

Wherever this place was... It was Cybertron. But certainly not in the time that Terminus may have known from the days in the mines.

The surface of Cybertron was bare, littered with horrid wounds of warfare and ruins of what could-- at least in the modern-day-- be considered ancient architecture. Smoke filled the air, yet... what had been the most secure was a Quintesson arena.

The area was familiar. This would have been where Kaon's gladiator pits would be.

Horrid creatures, with faces of metal and jagged teeth that seemed to mock the Cybertronians' own faces, with torsos and bodies that would have tentacles of sectioned metal while they hovered above the ground, all of them screeching in delight as two mechs utterly decimated one another. A flail went flying, slamming another mech in the chest and sending them tumbling backward-- that fallen mech had quickly rushed to get to his pedes, sprinting toward the other and TACKLING the other gladiator.

They were the Quintessons' entertainment.

Within the 'barracks' of the Pit, if you could call it such-- just a few berths haphazardly hung about and items scattered about, barely any light making its way through the barred windows of the building-- was where some of the Quintessons that found the displaced Terminus forced him into.

Ancient Cybertronians sat. They looked utterly defeated, horribly scarred and damaged, barely living with enough energon, optics often not looking toward him. However... there was one mech who walked in the moment the Quintessons departed. Ice cold optics stared Terminus down from the shadows. The mech was taller than some, around forty feet-- his heavily-armored frame suggested he was undoubtedly a warrior. The moment he was in the vicinity of the other gladiators-- they all looked up, hope filling their gazes despite the pain they were all in.

" ... Who... art thou? "

[mnemoiisms]

📜

Send in 📜 and I’ll use this incorrect quotes generator using your muse and my muse. (Please specify how many muses//which muses for multimuse blogs!!)

[prevailinghatred]

💙 : mentor/protégée

Send a Heart to tell me what relationship you'd be interested in exploring with our muses!

ooc | First of all, thanks for reaching out and for being the first person to send me an ask on here!

That being said, I'll be the first person to admit I don't know who Terminus is. I'm so new to the fandom that I'm still catching up on stuff, including reading the IDW comics, if that's where your guy is from. 🥲 I'd like to know more abt them + have a link to ur rules and abt page, because I didn't see one in your desc. and you have a dash only blog.

But let's chat! If you see something there for us, I wanna know abt it!! 😤

[a-life-revised]

{ @doddering-egoist } The Temple was coming along nicely. Megatron brushed the dust from his palms, and braced his knuckles against his hips, peering out at more of the springs he'd dug out.

Already, more mosaics had been unearthed, as well as a few fountains, some artwork..

Rung would be pleased.

As he was waiting around, however, there was a.. a spot in the distance. He squinted a little at it, before realizing it was moving. Another mech, perhaps, coming to look at the work they were doing? Someone who wanted to make use of the showers and springs? Whoever they were, as long as they minded the non-violence rules. Nothing to do but wait. ..and maybe lift a servo in greeting at the approaching figure.

[quantumlogician]

It was mid-afternoon. The lone sun of this single star system hung lazily in the pit of the sky, dragging over the circumference in its slow descent towards the horizon. After vorns of desolation away from living Cybertronian kind, the atmosphere healed over: thick smoke stacks of ever-burning factories dissipated, and the orange hazy smog that once layered thick the entirety of Kaon vanished. Mid-day heat was no longer a sweltering, miserable affair that burned into top plating and seeped right into the groves and seams.

Shockwave finds that traveling through the city and its perimeter to be less taxing on his frame. Before, it was impossible to step outside and return without a layer of ash and dust veiling his featureless mask for a face, obscuring his already limited vision. Now, he was granted full visibility well over 20 meters on his forward path, bypassing the need to waste power on directional sensors. Clearing the full length of Neo-Kaon, he crossed over the border to travel down into a neighboring land: the Deadman's. An entire sector carved out into a straight fixture of mining facilities entrenched into the topography of the desert.

What was once empty flatlands now steeply dropped into a subsurface plateau. A sophisticated network of tunnels and refineries winding even deeper than what could be seen.

Stepping dangerously close to the corner edge, the logician peered down into the caverns, casting a wide glance over the forgotten architecture that forever sleeps in this hole. He could still hear the loud crash-bang of the drill pips dropping their full weight into the pits with their strapped pulleys laboring them up the derrick for another plunge.

His destination lies within the middle building, beyond the refinery, and deep into the caverns itself. There existed no functional electric grid, leaving the facility to lay dead as Shockwave passed through it, forcing him to cram a crowbar into air-tight locks and break the seals for prohibited entry. There exists enough strength in his only working arm to jam the curved end of his tool into hydraulic doors and pry them open wide for his broad form to slip through. He repeated this process several times before he dipped into the actual mineral deposit. No need for any gadget to ping the strong, chemical scent of raw energon that his own starved body could recognize.

A faint iridescent glow shined over one of the drops in this cavern, leading Shockwave towards it. He only intended to carve a sizable batch to synthesize for a half vorn. At least, he had outlined this straightforward plan up until he crossed the threshold of when the glow saturated the cavern walls to meet a dark rigid shape disturbing the ethereal ambience.

There was no mistake — it was a bot. Shockwave couldn't discern any visual specifics other than they were present and it appears they were not a new arrival, on account of their lax, non-urgent frame language.

Cradling what meager amount he managed to gather into a single servo, he ripped his vocoder to life with an alerting scratch before his voice projected from it, " what are you doing here? "

Closed — @doddering-egoist

[saffronsass]

Well, that does make him sit back and think. If the miners had legs, allowing them a greater range of movement and access to their surroundings, but were constantly undermined (pun unintended) for their role down here, how could they possibly be replaced? It was such a silly notion of Terminus, to think a little army of Fixit's could take over.

Surely it would cost more to remove all the doors throughout the facility or cut an arch in the bottom half since he couldn't reach door handles or keypads without a cafeteria bench, to remove all the berths since he only needed a charging dock to park on top of, to pave all of the paths down and through the mines since he only had wheels. Anything that involved a big step, a jump, a top shelf, even a middle shelf was thwarted with legs. No, Terminus was just paranoid. Him being here was just his superiors taking sympathy on him and finding him something he could do.

"Yeah, but at the same time, I can't reach anything above knee height to you which kinda defeats the purpose of being functional. The energon mines will look really weird to higher ups when its just ground level that's carved into."

Terminus thinks for a moment before laughing. "If we were better models, they wouldn't try everything under the sun to get rid of us."

Perhaps it was an act of desperation by the higher ups. Since they couldn't stand the stammer, they shipped him off to a place that could... How does one put this nicely... Ensure his demise and not feel any guilt about it?? We won't mention that.

"For whatever reason, they deemed you useful enough to join our ranks. Perhaps you being closer to the ground will help save our ailing back struts. You're compact, take less room to bunk, smaller rations... They'll probably keep you around longer than they do the rest of us."

Terminus didn't know just how well Fixit was at his prior employ... And perhaps it was better that he didn't.

[silenceofthewave]

"I would like to make a song dedication if I may. My date and I will not be making an appearance until later this evening, but I would like to dedicate the following to Chief Justice Tyrest:

Crave You (Adventure Club Remix) by Flight Facilities

It will add this to the queue for later on in the evening so both of them may listen, dance and kiss. Have fun, lovemechs~

[mnemoiisms]

Wife Rating Scale Test:

"Great. Oil Slick broke it..."

Stolen from: @evilsciencebros

Tagging: @cybertr0nian (muse of choice) @cruel-singer @lord-overlips @dragvnsovl (muse of choice) @red-in-revolt (muse of choice) @blindxptimism @doddering-egoist (i gotta see Term's score)

[prevailinghatred]

Verse Drop!

Verse 2 | Pre War

tw for slavery Anytime before the war; set approx. 10 mil years in the past. Not to be confused with the Transformers One movie plot, which has its own separate verse.

Look in the doubt we've wallowed Look at the leaders we've followed Look at the lies we've swallowed And I don't wanna hear no more

Set before the Decepticon uprising on Cybertron, this verse encompasses all aspects of Megatron’s troubled upbringing that would ultimately culminate in the founding of the Decepticon faction and the beginning of the Great War.

There are two different “stages” of his life that one may encounter in this verse, depending on the timing of the thread.

D-16 — D-16 is a brilliant young mech, struggling to remain kind despite being a victim of an unkind system. He is fiercely loyal to those who show him the understanding he most craves, makes strong attachments, and holds himself to his promises. He has a fierce temper, but equally fierce sense of honor and justice.

Megatronus — After his escape from the mines of Satellite C-12, a young D-16 sought refuge in Kaon, a city mostly known for its criminal activity rather than its culture. D finds his niche in the Gladiator Pits, where he quickly takes up the name Megatronus, in homage to his favorite Prime whom he had deeply admired while working the mines. Megatronus uses his fearsome presence in the ring, as well as his (appropriated) higher-caste affect to garner support for his rapidly-growing underground political movement, of which he is the founder. He is especially fond of his higher-caste archivist friend, Orion Pax.

Heavily involved with Terminus as played by @doddering-egoist Lyrics from “Civil War” by Guns N Roses.

NOTE: Proceed with caution. Generally speaking, events that take place in this verse can affect greater blog canon, if agreed upon by both muns.

[quantumlogician]

'❤️❔'

I'm interested... If not for the fact of— will Terminus come to enjoy Shockwave as much if he truly comes to understand him?

[galaxyshuttle]

Humanformers Maker

We love our space assassin handiman!

Tagged by: @doctor-pharma

Tagging: @stellarcuriosity @sparkmender @viciousbite @doddering-egoist @tipsyteebs @circuitry-and-chaos @citizensofcybertron @milkiigalaxii

[cybertronsiren]

I hear your heart beat to the beat of the drums Oh, what a shame that you came here with someone

The 'worst' seemed to be a blessing; A little aerial who closer resembled a polished chunk of opal than alloy hovering up on stage having stolen the mic for first song, an aerial who seemed very much able to carry a tone and rhythm, more or less cowed anyone debating getting up on that little band stand.

So while you're here in my arms Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young

Especially, when enough cheers and chattering identified the main act through all the consumed liquor.

Oh, what a shame that you came here with someone So while you're here in my arms

Sure, he might lack his fog machines, back up dancers, silverweave silks, and ominous security detail, but that was Cybertron's old Golden Era pop star; Symphony of Crystal City.

Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young We're gonna die young

With every spark in proximity; twirling and crackling with elation and euphoria, amplified by Symphony's own spark and outlier ability, and contagious energy barely covered the atmosphere of tonight's bar crowd. Certainly one of their most profitable nights of the year.

"Five minute break, five minute break" Symphony laughed at the clamor of servos raised, waving shanix chits for cover choices, and tapping his own together in a playful time out. "I need a drink" Good thing he can hover over everyone to get at the bar. Hm, not his usual style of a menu. What did people order here?

Getting acclimated to foreign limbs was not an easy task. The phantom pains compounded with the PTSD of the accident and then having to deal with saying "farewell" to the one mech who actually meant anything to his Primus forsaken life was... a lot. Yes. The best thing to do in this situation was to make the best of it by living out whatever time he had left by boozing it up and wallowing in self-pity.

And so the "Rusted Barrel" seemed to be his preferred haunting spot. The place seemed a little more crowded as of late, most likely due to the fact that there was an open invitation for public entertainment. Whoopee. Let's all listen to the worst that Cybertron's "finest" had to offer. Most likely drunken house-femmes and frat-frags. His audials could hardly wait for an onslaught of tone deaf ramblings. At least he had deep enough pockets for a few rounds of the best drinks on the house. And his pity party was full enough that he'd hardly be forced to take notice.

What he wasn't expecting, however, was anyone of actual skill to take the mic. Perhaps expecting the worst and being pleasantly surprised was the best course of action. And so, he settled himself down at the rear of the facility, to begin nursing the first of who knew how many drinks he'd indulge in tonight. The emcee took to the stage as the lights dimmed. What was the worst that could happen??