South of Heaven @dontpetmeibite - Tumblr Blog

#mtmte #megatron #ravage #maccadam #this is an rp blog pls reblog from sauce

It's true because y'all mean.

He turned his audials off.

Senatorial Recorder models were not built with that ability.

sir-lancerlot

"Well uhhh, I guess I served my time and I'm free to go, huh?"

"Free to go... to Cybertron."

(aka Soundwave has a sense of humor)

#dash commentary #Spike Witwicky #I put him in the hospital once and I'd do it again

That's not how that force field actually works. If I could have actually put my head partway into the force field without harming myself, I would have bitten that little piece of aftslag.

(Solus knows, my conjunx was very aware of that fact.)

...well, it has been ages since I spoke to Cayde, but I know where that transmission came from.

Seriously, the Fountains?

And Cayde, if you're out there listening... you probably aren't the Cayde that I knew, but even so... <3

#dash commentary

beeperisbeeping

THE WAY HE BOUNCES GETS ME EVERY TIME

You weren't even there.

I was. You just can't see me in there.

Laserbeak and I slammed together so hard my audials rang for three days.

#dash commentary

Why is he tired?

ugh.

"My guess is because Nautica, Setsuna Amaou, and Silvermist just spent over a thousand hours, in shifts, removing a fucking singularity from your frame and sending it back to whatever hellverse Onyx got it out of in the first place. Nice to have you back, though."

Ravage was perched at the foot of the medical berth in her feline form, although she was wearing the elaborate necklace that Jazz and Soundwave had stolen for her several centuries ago around her pantherine neck.

".... Right." Megatron mutters, and lifts a servo to rub gingerly at his helm. "... It's disposed of, then? No one... No one is damaged for it?"

Another pause, a hesitation. "... Your injury. It was not-- I did not mean to damage you." Red optics flicker, watching her almost warily.

Ravage waves her paw at him. "I'm fine," she says. "Ratchet and Glit went through and replaced every single one of my spinal struts once they figured out how to recreate the damn alloy they're made of. But I'm still not allowed to go meteor surfing, which, if I recall correctly, was not an activity you suggested to me."

Her tail lashes the air, but not in a threatening way. It's 100% mischief. She leaps down off the foot of the bed and jumps up to his side, loafing and then leaning into the curve of his waist.

"Does Soundwave agree with that?" Megatron asks, but relents when she curls against him. The knot of guilt eases, ever so slightly, and he carefully rests a broad hand against her back. "I feel... lighter, with it gone." He adds.

"I'm Vox Destron, which means that my conjunx isn't actually the boss of me," Ravage says, learning into his hand. "Soundwave and I are getting along just fine, but if people start asking me to get his approval for things, I am going to have a problem with someone at some point in time. And Ratchet and Glit's medical opinions, which are the ones that count when it comes to my health, are that I'm fine. I'm glad you feel better. And before I forget, no-one was harmed."

She purrs encouragingly.

Megatron strokes her back, gently. "Good." He rumbles. "I am.... I am quite tired of bringing pain to others." He adds, rather vehemently. "And... You may tell Soundwave that I hold no more secrets."

"The medical team made sure of that," Ravage says, rubbing her face against him. "If you have any more secrets--and it would not surprise me if you did, because I know you--they are in your mind, not in your frame." She sighs, pressing up into his hand. "You love me?"

"... Yes." Megatron rumbles, quietly. "I... I do. And... I am thankful to Soundwave, for not demanding my exile or otherwise."

"He can't actually do that, you know," Ravage says, lifting her head to press it against his side. "This is an anarchist commune, he can't single-handedly ban you. Especially not while you owe community service." She sighs. "He's my conjunx, I sleep with him every night; you don't need to remind me that he exists."

"Hm." Megatron rumbles, though his tone is conciliatory. He reaches up to rub at his helm with his free hand, though he keeps stroking Ravage with the other. " ... Apologies. I'll... Refrain."

A pause. "Glit told me it would likely take time for my frame to recover from hosting an event horizon. Well... In between telling me other things."

"I just bet. I'm surprised he agreed to work on you--" Ravage's sigh turns into a laugh in spite of her heroic efforts to contain it. "Oh, Megatron. I'm sorry. But I'm not, because the way you played us against each other was beyond awful. My guess is that you're probably not on the guest list for the wedding, either. Warp says that Glit's going to wear uchikake and somehow they're getting TC in a suit."

Why is he tired?

ugh.

"My guess is because Nautica, Setsuna Amaou, and Silvermist just spent over a thousand hours, in shifts, removing a fucking singularity from your frame and sending it back to whatever hellverse Onyx got it out of in the first place. Nice to have you back, though."

Ravage was perched at the foot of the medical berth in her feline form, although she was wearing the elaborate necklace that Jazz and Soundwave had stolen for her several centuries ago around her pantherine neck.

".... Right." Megatron mutters, and lifts a servo to rub gingerly at his helm. "... It's disposed of, then? No one... No one is damaged for it?"

Another pause, a hesitation. "... Your injury. It was not-- I did not mean to damage you." Red optics flicker, watching her almost warily.

Ravage waves her paw at him. "I'm fine," she says. "Ratchet and Glit went through and replaced every single one of my spinal struts once they figured out how to recreate the damn alloy they're made of. But I'm still not allowed to go meteor surfing, which, if I recall correctly, was not an activity you suggested to me."

Her tail lashes the air, but not in a threatening way. It's 100% mischief. She leaps down off the foot of the bed and jumps up to his side, loafing and then leaning into the curve of his waist.

"Does Soundwave agree with that?" Megatron asks, but relents when she curls against him. The knot of guilt eases, ever so slightly, and he carefully rests a broad hand against her back. "I feel... lighter, with it gone." He adds.

"I'm Vox Destron, which means that my conjunx isn't actually the boss of me," Ravage says, learning into his hand. "Soundwave and I are getting along just fine, but if people start asking me to get his approval for things, I am going to have a problem with someone at some point in time. And Ratchet and Glit's medical opinions, which are the ones that count when it comes to my health, are that I'm fine. I'm glad you feel better. And before I forget, no-one was harmed."

She purrs encouragingly.

Megatron strokes her back, gently. "Good." He rumbles. "I am.... I am quite tired of bringing pain to others." He adds, rather vehemently. "And... You may tell Soundwave that I hold no more secrets."

"The medical team made sure of that," Ravage says, rubbing her face against him. "If you have any more secrets--and it would not surprise me if you did, because I know you--they are in your mind, not in your frame." She sighs, pressing up into his hand. "You love me?"

"... Yes." Megatron rumbles, quietly. "I... I do. And... I am thankful to Soundwave, for not demanding my exile or otherwise."

"He can't actually do that, you know," Ravage says, lifting her head to press it against his side. "This is an anarchist commune, he can't single-handedly ban you. Especially not while you owe community service." She sighs. "He's my conjunx, I sleep with him every night; you don't need to remind me that he exists."

matrix-chosen

"I want a dollar every time Drift says weird scrap."

kytherion

"Query: why does Rodimus desire to break the United States economy?"

matrix-chosen

"Uh.... Well I'm not trying to?" Rodimus responds.

kytherion

"I'm not sure that there are enough dollars." Soundwave shrugs.

matrix-chosen

"... Probably not." Roddy agrees. "It would be funny though, sort of. And Drift might have enough, if it was transferred."

#Rodimus | matrix-chosen #v: found light

"Do people say things like that about me? I know I say weird things all the time..." Soundwave muses.

Why is he tired?

ugh.

"My guess is because Nautica, Setsuna Amaou, and Silvermist just spent over a thousand hours, in shifts, removing a fucking singularity from your frame and sending it back to whatever hellverse Onyx got it out of in the first place. Nice to have you back, though."

Ravage was perched at the foot of the medical berth in her feline form, although she was wearing the elaborate necklace that Jazz and Soundwave had stolen for her several centuries ago around her pantherine neck.

".... Right." Megatron mutters, and lifts a servo to rub gingerly at his helm. "... It's disposed of, then? No one... No one is damaged for it?"

Another pause, a hesitation. "... Your injury. It was not-- I did not mean to damage you." Red optics flicker, watching her almost warily.

Ravage waves her paw at him. "I'm fine," she says. "Ratchet and Glit went through and replaced every single one of my spinal struts once they figured out how to recreate the damn alloy they're made of. But I'm still not allowed to go meteor surfing, which, if I recall correctly, was not an activity you suggested to me."

Her tail lashes the air, but not in a threatening way. It's 100% mischief. She leaps down off the foot of the bed and jumps up to his side, loafing and then leaning into the curve of his waist.

"Does Soundwave agree with that?" Megatron asks, but relents when she curls against him. The knot of guilt eases, ever so slightly, and he carefully rests a broad hand against her back. "I feel... lighter, with it gone." He adds.

"I'm Vox Destron, which means that my conjunx isn't actually the boss of me," Ravage says, learning into his hand. "Soundwave and I are getting along just fine, but if people start asking me to get his approval for things, I am going to have a problem with someone at some point in time. And Ratchet and Glit's medical opinions, which are the ones that count when it comes to my health, are that I'm fine. I'm glad you feel better. And before I forget, no-one was harmed."

She purrs encouragingly.

Megatron strokes her back, gently. "Good." He rumbles. "I am.... I am quite tired of bringing pain to others." He adds, rather vehemently. "And... You may tell Soundwave that I hold no more secrets."

"The medical team made sure of that," Ravage says, rubbing her face against him. "If you have any more secrets--and it would not surprise me if you did, because I know you--they are in your mind, not in your frame." She sighs, pressing up into his hand. "You love me?"

remixofpraxus-archive

Red or black licorice? Because there is a difference. Red is enjoyable. Black is a crime.

#nobody asked her but here's her opinion anyway #Remix | remixofpraxus #dash commentary

Licorice is naturally an aromatic root, which is light brown.

I have no idea what "red" or "black" licorice might be made out of...

Why is he tired?

ugh.

"My guess is because Nautica, Setsuna Amaou, and Silvermist just spent over a thousand hours, in shifts, removing a fucking singularity from your frame and sending it back to whatever hellverse Onyx got it out of in the first place. Nice to have you back, though."

Ravage was perched at the foot of the medical berth in her feline form, although she was wearing the elaborate necklace that Jazz and Soundwave had stolen for her several centuries ago around her pantherine neck.

".... Right." Megatron mutters, and lifts a servo to rub gingerly at his helm. "... It's disposed of, then? No one... No one is damaged for it?"

Another pause, a hesitation. "... Your injury. It was not-- I did not mean to damage you." Red optics flicker, watching her almost warily.

Ravage waves her paw at him. "I'm fine," she says. "Ratchet and Glit went through and replaced every single one of my spinal struts once they figured out how to recreate the damn alloy they're made of. But I'm still not allowed to go meteor surfing, which, if I recall correctly, was not an activity you suggested to me."

Her tail lashes the air, but not in a threatening way. It's 100% mischief. She leaps down off the foot of the bed and jumps up to his side, loafing and then leaning into the curve of his waist.

"Does Soundwave agree with that?" Megatron asks, but relents when she curls against him. The knot of guilt eases, ever so slightly, and he carefully rests a broad hand against her back. "I feel... lighter, with it gone." He adds.

"I'm Vox Destron, which means that my conjunx isn't actually the boss of me," Ravage says, learning into his hand. "Soundwave and I are getting along just fine, but if people start asking me to get his approval for things, I am going to have a problem with someone at some point in time. And Ratchet and Glit's medical opinions, which are the ones that count when it comes to my health, are that I'm fine. I'm glad you feel better. And before I forget, no-one was harmed."

She purrs encouragingly.

#very funny afthelm

Why is he tired?

ugh.

"My guess is because Nautica, Setsuna Amaou, and Silvermist just spent over a thousand hours, in shifts, removing a fucking singularity from your frame and sending it back to whatever hellverse Onyx got it out of in the first place. Nice to have you back, though."

Ravage was perched at the foot of the medical berth in her feline form, although she was wearing the elaborate necklace that Jazz and Soundwave had stolen for her several centuries ago around her pantherine neck.

".... Right." Megatron mutters, and lifts a servo to rub gingerly at his helm. "... It's disposed of, then? No one... No one is damaged for it?"

Another pause, a hesitation. "... Your injury. It was not-- I did not mean to damage you." Red optics flicker, watching her almost warily.

Ravage waves her paw at him. "I'm fine," she says. "Ratchet and Glit went through and replaced every single one of my spinal struts once they figured out how to recreate the damn alloy they're made of. But I'm still not allowed to go meteor surfing, which, if I recall correctly, was not an activity you suggested to me."

Her tail lashes the air, but not in a threatening way. It's 100% mischief. She leaps down off the foot of the bed and jumps up to his side, loafing and then leaning into the curve of his waist.

Why is he tired?

ugh.