Re/Alignment Logs Comm
August 13th, 2012 
WHO: RiDScream and Primescream
WHERE: Liege's temple, Primescream's quarters.
WHEN Soon after this
WHAT: Two guys named Starscream. Meeting faceplate to faceplate. This will go well, right?
WARNINGS: Just look at who is involved (but probably nothing).

I am proud but so frustrated, I am overcomplicated in life )
ex_dishonestly997: (Default)
01:14 pm
WHO: SG!Soundwave and Kagerou
WHERE: The medbay
WHEN A while after this.
WHAT: Soundwave drops in to say hello. Social ineptitude ensues.
WARNINGS: None as of now.

Read more... )
thxforthememories: (Why is there a tiger on my chest...)
WHO: Soundwave & YOU
WHERE: Junkpile/Outside in general
WHEN Not too long after Soundwave has an accident with Wing.
WHAT: Feeling like a terrible person, Soundwave checks out early from the Medbay.
WARNINGS: Robo-angst, can't be helped.

as long as you can walk you can carry on )
inferiordude: (time to be heroic!)
WHO: Wreck-Gar and whoever comes his way
WHERE: The Junkpile
WHEN Sometime after Wreck-Gar learned of the Junkpile from Soundwave
WHAT: Wreck-Gar explores the Junkpile.
WARNINGS: Wreck-Gar remains as moderately comprehensible as ever when talking.


Cybertron. It was not Wreck-Gar's, and even if it were, it was not his world in the first place. Blaster's cassette Rewind had once theorized that the Junkions, along with some of the other robot-races of the galaxy, were descended from Cybertronians who had left the planet during its numerous Great Wars. Wreck-Gar, though, had never been much for reruns, and only occasionally appreciated a retrospective, and had opted not to give much thought to the matter. He was content to be an ally to Rodimus Prime and his Autobots, when it did not distract from his responsibilities to his people. He owed them much, for helping the Junkions step into the future and opening vast trade routes that had made them a very rich people indeed.

This, however, was not that Cybertron. And Wreck-Gar was utterly uncertain of his place here. His people needed him, and he missed his friends, and his main squeeze, Nancy. But most of all, he missed his home, the Planet of Junk. The massive fields of junk, as far as the eye could see, the vast sorting machines, the soft crunch of compacted metal and plastics under his feet, the warm glow of televisions scavenged from the junk and loving restored to functional condition, the gentle hum of the planetary power sources.

But here, in the Junkpile... this felt like familiar territory. He walked through it, looking this way and that, pausing once and a while to dig into a pile and pull something out, sometimes tossing it away, sometimes letting the junk just run through his fingers.

"Ooooh, Luuuucy," he said, to no one in particular, "I'm hoooOOOoome."
idle_time: (Default)
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