#willnotgogently

[red-in-revolt]

If it pleases you, I found a most interesting shop that caters to different forms. There's some pretty lingerie I found that I'd like to show you. Maybe you could help me into it. Or out of it, your choice. -willnotgogently

Redstrike lifted a brow at the next and then smiled as he typed out a reply.

[txt] Sounds wonderful. I would love to. Simply tell me where and when.

[silent-stalker]

Appease the monster - willnotgogently (Tonton perhaps?)

// meme

@willnotgogently

The altar the little mech is chained to, is not an altar at all. Not really, not one that is official in any way. Any altar this deity once had is nothing but dust now, ground into the fine sand that the area rests on.

It is the remains of an arena, with the remnants of past lives, battles and death all around - broken swords half buried in the silvery sand, the shells of mechs barely visible beneath the layer of sand, the crumbling walls that still stood tall and the even taller rows of seats stained with the spilled energon of warriors long dead.

It is not hard to realize what, exactly, the metallic, silver sand used to be; victims of the arena, and of the deity it calls home...

The chains are new, though. Shiny and untarnished, hooked into latches buried beneath the sand; standing tall in front of the mech, there is a shield. It's surface is pockmarked with dents, scratches, and burns, but the dark purple metal somehow still shines in the fading light. As the day finally ends, the broken lanterns all around flicker to life. They burn with an unnatural violet flame, casting the ancient arena in a gloomy haze.

The shield moves. It unfolds, twisting, becoming taller, taller, biolights flickering to life in the same shade and manner as the lanterns, until a mech of a deep, vivid purple stands in front of the sacrifice. He bears none of the marks that the shield had; the armored plating is clean and brilliant, lined in softly glowing biolights. Along his arms are gold glyphs; the names of dead champions, each name older than the last, until the language is unreadable.

He takes a knee in front of the sacrifice, gold-tarnished hands reach down to pull them free of the chains, touch gentle despite his size and title; The raging Deity of Gladiators.

"Another one of you," He sighs, in a lilting, melodic voice that doesn't actually come from him, but is echoed from the unnatural lights and the broken blades surrounding them. "What is your name, child? Why have they left you here?"

[mightymegatron]

...Ah

[ask-smokescreen]

A nice present this time for Smokey. A small box of engex candies, soft and sweet outside with a tiny bit of high grade on the inside. There's a note to go along with it, inviting him to come and visit the Fragged up Frigate when he has a chance. -willnotgogently

@willnotgogently

!!

/Smokescreen is more than excited to see the nice gift, and quickly starts to ping Rung after he eats all the engex candies in record time and reads the note.

::RUNG! Rung, Rung, thank you so much! Are you at the Fragged up Frigate right now? I’d love to visit!::

[the-scrappy-stinger]

Rung is looking over some human recipes and his optics widen a little bit when he sees something called a ramen burger. Showing it to Bee, he smiles a little. "Should we try to make something like this?"

Ooo... (gives it a look) lightly melted wire patty with fillings... Hmmm the tricky thing is finding something that can serve as the meat. (He scrolls through the pictures.) And I’m not sure how happy Tacitus would be seeing a fried egg...

[driftsetadrift]

A pair of red eyes watch Drift curiously, lithe fingers adjusting a set of spectacles. "Well aren't you a marvelous specimen...?"

Drift is completely not paying attention. Maybe the downtime he’s had has made him complacent, but the voice catches him off guard.

“Huh? Specimen? The slag you mean by that?” Who was that? They sounded familiar...

[aranea-mechanica]

Tacitus, an Insecticon, sends a query to Incub8. "This one's partner's do not wish for eggs or offspring. Love for partners is too overwhelming to try to change their minds, despite this one's desire for a large Hive. Suggestion of substitute to quell instincts?"

Incub8 replied:

One needn’t necessarily quell such a delicious instinct - if possible, seeking yet another partner who would be willing to build a hive with you would be my ideal suggestion.

If that seems unfeasible, there are certainly ways of manipulating one’s urges, both licit and illicit. Medical professionals, should they be trustworthy and knowledgeable enough for your liking, would be able to assist with various temporary or irreversible surgical procedures, most of which consequently suppress or extinguish the urge to breed. Such procedures do often affect libido as well, for your information. 

Another route could be via medical administration of software patches, but personalizing the coding is often a hassle and/or more costly than some mechs can afford. Generalized patches with options for personalization are also widely available for download across the datanet, but one must be judicious as to what they insert into their systems without expert knowledge.

Ultimately I still advocate for embracing one’s urges to the utmost, inasmuch is possible, but some situations do call for unfortunate restraint.

[lord-overlips]

A red eyed Rung watched Overlord from the corner nearly unseen. He looks rather scuffed up and his plating is dull like he's not taking care of himself.

Overlord had been distracted. When he did notice Rung he brightened immediately, rushing over to the mech and kneeling down, arms soon wrapping around Rung in a firm hug.

“Rung! I’m so pleased to see you!” He drew back, suddenly frowning. “But... something’s happened, hasn’t it?”