#event haulers

[wolfspaw]

[inter-volve]

February 26th 2023

[writers-potion]

I'm writing a sci-fi story about a space freight hauler with a heavy focus on the economy. Any tips for writing a complex fictional economy and all of it's intricacies and inner-workings?

Constructing a Fictional Economy

The economy is all about: How is the limited financial/natural/human resources distributed between various parties?

So, the most important question you should be able to answer are:

Who are the "have"s and "have-not"s?

What's "expensive" and what's "commonplace"?

What are the rules(laws, taxes, trade) of this game?

Building Blocks of the Economic System

Type of economic system. Even if your fictional economy is made up, it will need to be based on the existing systems: capitalism, socialism, mixed economies, feudalism, barter, etc.

Currency and monetary systems: the currency can be in various forms like gols, silver, digital, fiat, other commodity, etc. Estalish a central bank (or equivalent) responsible for monetary policy

Exchange rates

Inflation

Domestic and International trade: Trade policies and treaties. Transportation, communication infrastructure

Labour and employment: labor force trends, employment opportunities, workers rights. Consider the role of education, training and skill development in the labour market

The government's role: Fiscal policy(tax rate?), market regulation, social welfare, pension plans, etc.

Impact of Technology: Examine the role of tech in productivity, automation and job displacement. How does the digital economy and e-commerce shape the world?

Economic history: what are some historical events (like The Great Depresion and the 2008 Housing Crisis) that left lasting impacts on the psychologial workings of your economy?

For a comprehensive economic system, you'll need to consider ideally all of the above. However, depending on the characteristics of your country, you will need to concentrate on some more than others. i.e. a country heavily dependent on exports will care a lot more about the exchange rate and how to keep it stable.

For Fantasy Economies:

Social status: The haves and have-nots in fantasy world will be much more clear-cut, often with little room for movement up and down the socioeconoic ladder.

Scaricity. What is a resource that is hard to come by?

Geographical Characteristics: The setting will play a huge role in deciding what your country has and doesn't. Mountains and seas will determine time and cost of trade. Climatic conditions will determine shelf life of food items.

Impact of Magic: Magic can determine the cost of obtaining certain commodities. How does teleportation magic impact trade?

For Sci-Fi Economies Related to Space Exploration

Thankfully, space exploitation is slowly becoming a reality, we can now identify the factors we'll need to consider:

Economics of space waste: How large is the space waste problem? Is it recycled or resold? Any regulations about disposing of space wste?

New Energy: Is there any new clean energy? Is energy scarce?

Investors: Who/which country are the giants of space travel?

Ownership: Who "owns" space? How do you draw the borders between territories in space?

New class of workers: How are people working in space treated? Skilled or unskilled?

Relationship between space and Earth: Are resources mined in space and brought back to Earth, or is there a plan to live in space permanently?

What are some new professional niches?

What's the military implication of space exploitation? What new weapons, networks and spying techniques?

Also, consider:

Impact of space travel on food security, gender equality, racial equality

Impact of space travel on education.

Impact of space travel on the entertainment industry. Perhaps shooting monters in space isn't just a virtual thing anymore?

What are some indsutries that decline due to space travel?

I suggest reading up the Economic Impact Report from NASA, and futuristic reports from business consultants like McKinsey.

If space exploitation is a relatiely new technology that not everyone has access to, the workings of the economy will be skewed to benefit large investors and tech giants. As more regulations appear and prices go down, it will be further be integrated into the various industries, eventually becoming a new style of living.

[digitalsymbiote]

The Solar Sprint

You ever heard of the Cannonball Run? It was a thing back on earth, back before corpo wars. It was an unsanctioned race across a continent. Folks would trick out cars with extra fuel tanks, police scanners, the works, and just burn their way from one ocean to the other. Driving for something like a day straight, avoiding cops all the way, and only stopping to refuel. Kinda wild, don’t you think? A test of speed and stamina, seeing how hard you could really push your vehicle.

That’s what the Solar Sprint started out as, you know. First time someone ran it, the Jovian blockade was still up. They blew right past the military lines, their mech too fast for any of those combat frames to catch. It was big news at the time, everyone thought it was some secret R.O.M. tech built to break the blockade. Turned out it was just some wrench-head who wanted to see how fast they could get from Mercury to Neptune. The crazy fucker actually did it too, straight shot from the solar collection station on Mercury, all the way to the NDS Research outpost. The scientists there nearly shit themselves when the Runner went blasting past their observatory like that. Can’t imagine they saw any frames out there that weren’t clunky research models before then, especially with the blockade still up.

There’s still footage of the first sprint up on the Net if you look. Some cargo hauler caught footage of the Runner nearly side-swipping his freight ship between Earth and Venus. There was a leaked clip of them breaking the Jovian blockade too, but you might be hard pressed to find that one these days. runners sometimes carry hard copies though, so if you run into the right people you might be able to see it.

It became a whole thing, y’know? Kind of a fuck you to the corps, the wars, all of it. Building frames in a different way, not just for blowing each other up. Was a kind of creative revolution, an expression of freedom. Corps can’t keep us down, yeah? Something like a thousand runners tried it over the next couple years. Not all of em made it; some of em got caught by the blockade, some of em their frames couldn’t handle the trek. But enough of em made it that it started to become a real competition. Who could make the sprint in the fastest time? Folks posted on forums about crazy ideas they were coming up with for propellants, aerodynamics, you name it. Gearheads across the net had a brand new obsession to pour over.

Soon enough though, the corps caught on, realized it was easier to sanction the thing than to try and stop people from doing it. Enough cargo freighters crashed, enough blockades ran, it became more profitable to make an event out of the thing. The Sprint lost some of it’s luster after that. Speed frames plastered with sponsorships and built with corpo parts didn’t really capture the energy of the original run. The yearly Sprint is technically open to public teams, but any self respecting Runner isn’t gonna attempt it during sanctioned times. Kinda defeats the purpose of it all if they clear the shipping lanes and wait for optimal conditions, right?

Every once in a while though, you might spot somebodies custom frame sitting in orbit around the solar collection station. And who knows? They might be the next crazy wrench-head to break that record.

[cuprohastes]

OK, New Plan.

Space piracy isn't a thing. It's not economical, practical or something anyone can pursue for any length of time.

Anyway, the ship had been captured by space pirates, and they'd dropped the temperature in the passenger modules down to a few ticks under the freezing point of water: The Atrix passengers were all huddled up, torpid, protecting their little guys, and the Thotari Pirates were planning on pillaging the cargo and personal possessions while things were quiet.

They'd checked the manifest: 12 Atrix passengers, and four crew, also Atrix. Easy pickings.

So it was a little bit of a surprise when they cracked the door to the passenger module and one of the Atrix turned out to be somewhat genetically human.

It was holding a hot beverage in one hand and used the other to grip the first Thotari Contract Pirate around their scrawny neck, dragging them off their feet.

Then it used that individual to beat the others until they snapped their contract markers and sat their asses down.

Everyone knows the Thotari take contracts very seriously. Snapping the marker was as good as surrender: No Thotari with any self respect would work unpaid.

The Pirate Executive Officer, employed for her bulk and experience took personal umbrage regarding this whole mess and thundered onto the ship, with several large sharp weapons, and some very cool looking armour, determined to perpetrate terminal events to the Human's biology.

The Human took one look and threw it's drink in her face. Then gave her a vicious kicking while the bitter alkaloids in the toxic concoction caused the PEO to collapse with uncontrollable spasms.

According to the logs, the Human took time out and poured another cup of coffee, turned the heat up, glared at the rest of the Thotari until they snapped their contract markers rather than deal with any of that and walked onto the Pirate's ship.

At which point they called the Pirate's backer up, and spent a half hour explaining in horrifying detail what they would personally do to that individual, and how much worse it was going to be if they didn't stop this inane crap.

The Thotari picked up their PEO and hooked her up to their ship's medical bay, said 'no hard feelings it's just business' and left.

---

"How was your trip?" asked Dave The Human.

"Pretty quiet," said Phalanges Mitten, AKA Dave. "Glad to be back, though. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to take a decent nap on those haulers - And don't get me started on the Coffee!"

[constructiconweek]

Ok happy February! I’m go ahead and post the words I’ve selected for Constructicon week 2024 with a nice preview header and the official list with the days and I'll post the AO3 collect closer to the date :

Day 1 Feb 18th Scrapper : Wood

Day 2 Feb 19th Long Haul : Paper

Day 3 Feb 20th Scavenger : Sand

Day 4 Feb 21st Hook : Glass

Day 5 Feb 22nd Bonecrusher : Concrete

Day 6 Feb 23rd Mixmaster : Fabric

Day 7 Feb 24th Devastator : Free Day : (Prowl/Gravedigger/Hauler/Omega Supreme/Dirt Boss and others can be included here just had to be Constructicon related.)

(The different universes (G1, IDW one and two, TFA, Armanda and others can appeal to any day just tag it when we get there!

more under cut

And I’ll add here given that these are building materials and want to build stuff and do other projects with them, like wood burning or sand art for explain, (be careful) but cool! We’d love to see it when the time rolls around! I’m hoping posting this early gives people (like me) more time for writing, drawing, and all art!

Again the days are February 18th - Feb 24th 2024 (Engineering Week in the US) contact me admin @fireyhotsupertalia if you have any question!

--

Each day has two prompts the first is the Constructicon and the second  is the word, feel free to use both in Conjunction or if you want you can  use just one for example you feel like just drawing Mixmaster go for it  post Friday, feel like writing about the who group and Formula go for it post Monday. Get delayed and can’t post on the correct day no problem I’m sure everyone will love to still get the content so don’t worry too much. It’s about fun and adding more to the community.

You can feel free to @ me here or submit things if you’d like I’ll reblog all I can!

Admin for this blog and event are @fireyhotsupertalia​

[just-jae]

Eddie's crisis

Okay, imma put this out there.

Spoil Mc Noil

My interpretation of Eddie's meltdown was that he was so used to working so hard that the moment he sat down to relax and have fun he had a nervous breakdown. Even before Eddie left the office he was irritable about having no work to do- something that apparently wasn't planned, because normally the neighbors have Eddie deliver all the presents.

This is also hinted to by Frank's comment that he works too hard and Eddie's promotional toy being called "stretched thin Eddie".

Another thing I noted was the fact that the playfellow exhibition apparently found that several characters mostly stay in their buildings. Poppy's never seen outside of the barn, I think Howdy' also rarely outside of the shop. There could be this implication that, out side of scheduled or planned events like the Halloween event, the neighbors don't know how to function outside of their given roles.

Eddie basically broke script when he went to the party and it was like breaking reality itself.

Like how his relationship with Frank probably also breaks the script.

That's how I saw it anyway.

I don't know why people seem to think Eddie's only character trait is talking a lot. Its not even something unique to him. Howdy doesn't shut up when it comes to products, Sally becomes passionate about anything acting related. Julie's like if skittles could talk, and Frank's gotten a bit chatty too about his garden and what-not.

I think Howdy's comment about Eddie talking too much has more to do with the fact that he's not supposed to talk so much. He's the heavy hauler, the hardworker, the mailman, and it seems like not too many neighbors really see him or notice him as a personality. He's just the mailman.

I think its also interesting that Eddie's memory loss seems pretty severe and oddly selective. Like, he can't remember his past, and couldn't remember whether he picked up the phone to answer it or to make a call. Its mentioned that he sometimes forgets to deliver a package, but he can apparently remember what artist Sally was dressed as.

Like-- seriously what's going on with this dude? I suspect some of gis forgetfulness is self-fullfilling, where he easily doubts himself and back petals as soon as something doesn't match up-- he assumes he must have forgotten something or gottensomething wrong, and just ends up "forgetting" bc he has no confidence in his own memories.

Also probably some demon magic but that could explain literally anything.

I think the pea on the plate was meant to represent Eddie. Bc in the dish's description it says not to let any other peas get too close to it. And Frank was wearing a pea-colored shirt. Eddie's sitting on the loveseat, alone, no one else is even visible, and no one comes to talk to him. So it could very well be a message that Eddie's experiance in the neighborhood is a relatively isolated one. Except when it comes to Frank, which isn't supposed to happen.

This could just be a matter of the shows writing, but could also be something special to Eddie, who"s mysterious origin could have something to do with why he's singled out.

[trivialbob]

My city has a biennial "Curbside Cleanup" event in April. People can set out large items for a special trash collection. We put things out starting on a Thursday. They are collected by trash haulers on Saturday.

In the days leading up to the collection people ("scavengers" we call them) drive slowly through the neighborhoods looking for scap metal or items that are perfectly usable. It's kind of fun to watch the procession of beat up pickup trucks, U-haul trailers, and small cars with stuff tied to the roof.

Sheila and I sometimes host a watch party in the driveway. This year her brother grilled his Billy Burgers (amazing smash burgers) for all of us while we drank beer and waived at the drivers.

This year I got rid of an office chair, a couch, an ottoman, a usable vacuum cleaner (I left a sign on it stating that it worked), and a broken carpet shampooer. All but the couch were taken by people before the city came by on Saturday.

One year I put out a different couch and ended up helping a guy load it into his van. He didn't look poor. I asked what he was going to do with the couch. Perhaps it would go in the basement for the kids to use while gaming and eating chips?

"I own some rental properties. I like finding usable furniture to put in them." I got rid of something I'd replaced with a new couch, he got a couch for free. Nice how that works out because the couch didn't (yet) make it to the landfill.

Something inevitably seen on every block are office chairs set of for collection. Two years ago I put one out at the curb. Two years before that was another one. This year my current chair's "leather" was cracked. The latch or gear that can be set to not allow rocking or reclining sometimes worked. More than once I'd lean back and exclaim "oh shit" as I fell backwards. My neck and shoulders were starting to hurt when I worked.

That's no way to live.

This afternoon I went to a business that sells professional office furniture. The showroom is open to the public. A guy asked me some questions about how I sit, where I keep my keyboard, and so on.

He showed me two not inexpensive chairs. I loved the first one I sat in. I did try the other one. Then he said I could look around the used furniture showroom. I saw some decent, heavy-duty chairs there, but that first one I sat in, the new one, was perfect for me so that's what I bought. It will pay for itself because I won't be buying Target/Costco/Staples office chairs every other year.

My desk right now is from Ikea. It's held up okay, maybe 6/10 in how much I like it. New desks at today's store were very sturdy and high quality.

And expensive.

But I saw some used desks that had a few dings or scratches that cost lest than my Ikea desk. They looked like they'd last a lifetime. I wish I'd shopped here earlier.

[createyourownnarrative]

How do I navigate this new life? So many questions plague my mind. Ironic. What happens when you start to question yourself? What do you do, when you can’t even trust yourself anymore? Petrified on a daily basis. Do I have a future left to salvage; my career, mygoals. I’ll say one thing. I didn’t expect to lose my whole identity. Profound loss. I grieve everyday. Not only mourning my former life and identity and plans, health, and body, but also fearing that I may never recover.

The last 3 years, has completely changed everything, including, the now, lack of trust and faith in our healthcare system. It’s difficult enough dealing with the social stigma, not being believed, gaslit, dismissed, invalidated, and blamed for my condition. But who do you go to, when your doctors can’t even help you, and some just won’t, and many just aren’t equipped or educated to deal with the new post viral condition. It’s been an enigma. The data and research has been sluggish, and US government funding is minimal.

The world moves on, but where does that leave about, what was it…17….or 22 million Americans? The data varies, but the scale is large. Massive. The largest mass disabling event in HUMAN history. And everyone ignores that it exists. Officials silence scientists and doctors, government censors social media, one minute it’s real, the next? no big deal. Inconsistency. Negligence and Lies.

Long Haulers of the world, does anyone else feel betrayed? Betrayed by people we are supposed to trust to have our best in mind, especially when it comes to our health institutions? I do. Everyday. I feel cheated and robbed of time, years off my life. All because of MONEY. Greed. Capitalism. I said it. The fucking cunt elephant in the room. Think of how much money certain people made during the pandemic? (If you know, you know) Of course I feel robbed. Of my life. And millions of others.

This is murder, irresponsible, and negligent.

And all WE want to do is FEEL better. Not be sick anymore so we can continue our lives. All while they continue to censor us.

[quiet-admirer]

When I'm writing long-hauler stories I like to put in secret little unspoken, unexplained character preferences or speech patterns, such as the character never uses religiously-based exclamations like 'oh my god', or doesn't give blowjobs, or only uses someone's nickname when they're in a very affectionate mood, or doesn't like any condiments - things like that. It helps keep me on my toes.

It's like the difference between driving a long, dark, unremarkable highway at night vs a road with a lot of potholes or blind curves - I have to pay attention more, and it reminds me to be intentional about characterization.

It's also just fun to come up with each character's quirks, and can make scenes feel more grounded in reality when I realize I have to build a situation or conversation around a quirk instead of just writing whatever the first fantasy that comes to my head is. The character isn't just a blank paper doll I'm dropping into my narrative anymore, and it can make things really interesting and stimulating from a writing perspective when I come up with a scenario, plug the characters in, and realize there's this butterfly effect and that tiny quirk means this idea I had for a logical flow of events suddenly has to bend around the the way the character would actually act in that situation.

[radioactive-metal]

Events over the Years pt.2

Hope for the future: the construction of the Zero:

The Zero was a one off gunboat project produced by Aurora Labs circa 2372. Originally specced as a Longbow Replacement, cost overruns, availability issues, and incompatibility with older legion equipment caused plans for mass production to be scrapped. However, Legion high command saw use for an unknown, unmarked, and highly advanced vessel and ordered it to be retrofitted with the finest weapons, armor, and concealment the legion could spare. The other major modification was the encasing of the high tech and sleek armored hull in a shell designed to look like a rust bucket to visual, LADAR, Radar, IR, and sonic imaging systems. This offered unprecedented deep strike and covert operations potential. It is at this point, circa roughly 2377, that the Zero is loaded into a civilian hauler, and disappears. Where is went is unknown, but the next sighting comes in 2379, when it is moored at slot 9[a] on emerald city.

After being left with the Free syldrathi for a short while, she was returned to legion hands, and reissued to Squad 312 as their designated vessel. As the Squad was not on missions at this point, she was taken to site-00 and given the full Longbow MK.4 equipment package, including updated plasma drives, experimental pulse cannons, and nanotechnology based auto repair systems. She saw service again circa 2382, during the Unbroken war of succession, where a Templar, claiming to be an illegitimate son of the Star Slayer, rose up and rallied the more conservative aspects of the Unbroken against the Legion aligned forces under the command of Saedii Gilwreath. During this war, utilizing stealth and hit and run tactics, Squad 312 led special task force 021 on a guerrilla campaign through enemy territory, ending the war with the successful kidnapping of the illegitimate claimant to the throne.

As of 2387, all squad 312 members have been rotated from active duty and currently work in various roles across the legion. The Zero is currently under refit at site-00 for installation of a prototype wormhole drive, scheduled to be tested with crew by 2390.

[wolfspaw]

[aloe-vera-7]

Lost to the Cycle: Chapter 2

<- Chapter 1

I finished this a while ago, but I wanted to finish more of chapter 3's draft before releasing it

CW: Violence, blood, insect death, swearing

The room is dark and the air feels moist, on the opposite side of the room is a large deadlock shutter, and an open one before it. In the middle of the two shutters is a grate each at the top and bottom of the chamber, and a bright, white hologram in the middle, displaying a circle with a symbol in it, and a glyph underneath.

Gatherer is a little intimidated by the structure and backs away a bit. Tutelar walks into the structure and stands below the hologram, and so does Warrior, and the others, including Witness, until all of the group is in the confines of the structure, except for Gatherer. Gatherer slowly strides towards the group, frantically looking around with their ears flat against their head. 

The structure suddenly starts whirring; Gatherer jumps and runs into the structure with the rest of the group. The deadlock shutter starts closing behind Gatherer with loud scrapes and clanks, turning and locking the gate shut.

There’s a moment of silence, broken by Warrior stating “Scrap, get your ass outta my face.”, with Scrapper responding “Ah sorry, my bad.” as they move forward slightly.

There’s another moment of silence before Witness bursts out laughing

“IT’S NOT FUNNY!” Warrior yells

Witness wipes a tear from their eye, “Ah, sorry sorry.”

Seeing the other slugcats messing around eases Gatherer a little bit.

Suddenly, a coil, underneath the grate that the group is standing on top of, heats up until it is red hot. A flow of water comes out of the grate above them, trickles down and hits the coil, creating steam which rises and fills the chamber before exiting out the top. Another moment of silence before the shutter on the other side whirrs and does the same sequence, but in reverse, leaving an open path for the group to walk through.

The group walk out of the chamber and continue on their expedition. Gatherer is a bit bewildered by that whole event, but quickly regains themself and follows the group again.

One by one, the group climbs into the small transfer pipe on the other side of the room. Tutelar, then Scrapper, followed by Warrior and Witness, and then Gatherer. Gatherer crawls and climbs into the small transfer pipe, shooting out the other end, tripping and tumbling down onto the damp floor, dirt getting all over their fur. Hauler pops out of the pipe not soon after, they struggle a bit due to their size, but eventually get out.

Warrior looks back and discovers Gatherer in the mud, cracking a harsh laugh and pointing at them. Witness stares down at Gatherer, a wave of pity washes over them as they watch Gatherer feebly lift themself back up, tears forming in their eyes and a soft whimper escaping their mouth.

Hauler sighs, noticing Witness hesitating to help Gatherer, opting to do it themself. They kneel down next to Gatherer, taking their shoulder in their paw, “Hey, Gatherer. Look, I know Warrior’s a bit of an asshole, but yuh’re strong, I know ya are!”

Tutelar nudges Warrior’s shoulder, giving them a stern look of disapproval. Warrior groans and turns back around, walking away from Gatherer, “Fine, let’s get on with this expedition.” Tutelar nods as they continue walking. Scrapper notices the two leaving, hopping into a jog to catch up with them.

Witness looks at the group leaving, then back at Hauler and Gatherer, to which Hauler returns a look and nods for them to go on without them. Witness sighs and reluctantly follows the group.

Hauler looks back down at Gatherer, “Don’t let ‘em get to ya, that’s what they want, a reaction.” They continue as they ruffle Gatherer’s hair, “Ya don’t deserve to be treated like this, yuh’re a good kid.”

Gatherer looks up at Hauler as they speak, staring back down at the ground once they finish, showing a look of defeat. Hauler notices Gatherer’s face and lightens their mood, “Listen, I’m here for ya. It’s okay to feel these things, ya don’t have to act like a tough guy. If ya ever feel down, fed up, lost, come to me, we can talk it out.”

Gatherer gazes up at Hauler, it looks like they’re about to burst into tears. They slowly whisper out, “T-thank you...” Hauler pats their shoulder, “Now, c’mon. Let’s get ya cleaned up.” They add, leading Gatherer off to the side.

Gatherer watches as Hauler digs through their bag, pulling out a rag and a canteen of water. “Here” Hauler suggested, pouring a puddle of water onto the rag, rubbing it in and handing it to Gatherer, “Wash ya face with this.” Gatherer takes the damp rag and rubs it over their face, making sure to get as much dirt out as they could.

While they’re at it, Hauler takes a swig from their canteen before screwing the lid back on. Gatherer looks back up at Hauler, seemingly done washing their face as they hold the rag back up to them. Hauler gives a soft smile, taking the rag and stashing it back in their bag along with the canteen.

Gatherer looks out, seeing the rest of the group gone. They get a pang of worry, only to be interrupted by Hauler holding their paw out to them, “Alright, let’s get back to the group, shall we?” Gatherer nods as they grab Hauler’s paw, walking alongside them towards the transfer pipe at the end of the room.

The two walk in silence for a minute, taking in the surroundings and examining the region. Their paw pads against the cold, damp floor as they walk, the moist walls reflecting, but also muffling the sound of the group up ahead. The faint sound of the wind blowing through the area fills their ears.

HISS

Hauler feels mandibles digging into their back as the loud hiss destroys the silence, yelping as they get knocked to the floor. Gatherer’s heart skips a beat upon seeing a dropwig fly down from the ceiling and onto Hauler’s back.

The dropwig yanks on Hauler’s skin, pulling them back ever so slightly. Hauler grunts with an annoyed tone in their voice as they reach over their back, attempting to grab the dropwig trying to drag them away. Hauler manages to get a hold of one of its antennae and pulls the dropwig off, slamming it on the ground with a loud thud, followed by another loud hiss from the now vulnerable dropwig.

The dropwig writhes, attempting to break free from the slugcat’s grasp, it claws and swipes at the slugcat now pinning it down. Hauler winces and looks around, finding a decently sized rock next to them, which they pick up.

Hauler heaves the rock above their head, and in one swift movement, slamming it down onto the dropwig’s head. The dropwig flails, thrashing its legs as Hauler smashes its head in again and again. Black blood splatters across the floor, some even getting on Hauler’s face.

Hauler hurdles the rock down a final time, harder than all the ones before it. The front of the rock shatters upon contact with the floor. The dropwig corpse twitches a few times before it lays still. Hauler breathes heavily as they stand up off the dropwig corpse.

The sound of footsteps interrupts the scene as Witness comes hurdling in holding a spear, looking distressed. There’s a moment before Witness untenses, seeing Hauler standing above a dead dropwig.

“Y-... You good?” They ask.

Hauler nods, “Yup, I ain’t hurt.” wiping the dropwig’s blood off of their face. They look back at the dropwig corpse.

“The dropwig though...” Hauler adds, “not so much.”

Witness stares at the body before looking back at Hauler, “Is Gatherer okay?” They ask softly.

Hauler looks over to Gatherer, who looks to be unharmed. Hauler replies “Yah, Gabby didn’t get hurt.”

Witness’s shoulders drop as they sigh of relief, “Good, I don’t want them to get hurt.”

The rest of the group come running into the room. Warrior yells “WITNESS! What the hell are you doing!?”

“Well, I heard a scream! What did you think I was doing?” Witness argues back.

“Seemed like you were running off to get yourself killed, that’s what.” Warrior sneers.

“Whatever” Witness says, attempting to dismiss Warrior’s comment. Their face curls into a small frown, their mind caught on Warrior’s snide remark.

Gatherer glances at the dropwig corpse, their ears lower as they speak in a low tone, “gross...”

Witness’s ears catch Gatherer’s comment, they turn to Hauler and ask, “Hey, did you have to smash the dropwig’s head in? Don’t you think that’s a bit... brutal?”

Hauler shrugs, “Ya gotta do what ya gotta do”

Warrior gives a thick laugh, turning to Gatherer with a mischievous grin, “If you think that’s gross, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet!”

“Warrior! Cut it out, you’re gonna scare them!” Witness yells.

“Oh I sure hope so, wouldn’t want a weakling dragging us down.” Warrior sneers at Gatherer.

Gatherer defends themself, “I-I’m not weak! I can prove it, watch me...” Gatherer looks around and spots a big centipede triple their size, “Watch me kill that centipede all by myself!”

Warrior raises their eyebrows and smirks, “I dunno, seems pretty big, think you can handle it?”

“Of course I can! Watch.” Gatherer pulls out their lucky spear and runs over to the centipede.

Witness’ eyes widen, “Gabby! Wait!”

The centipede scuttles towards Gatherer. Gatherer stops running and aims their spear, but before they could throw it, the centipede grabs onto Gatherer’s fur. Gatherer’s breath catches and they swiftly thrust their spear into the centipede. The centipede flails for a short while, but still holding onto Gatherer’s fur. Gatherer tries to pull away from the centipede, but its grip is strong. The other end of the centipede creeps towards Gatherer’s skin. Gatherer closes their eyes...

KSHCH!

Gatherer feels the centipede’s grip fly off, they slowly open their eyes and find the centipede dead on the ground with a 2nd spear in it. They look back and their eyes widen, realising Witness threw their spear at the centipede.

Witness is heavily breathing and their eyes wide. Witness lets out a big sigh, walking over to Gatherer and ruffling their hair, “You really worry me sometimes.”

Gatherer looks back at the dead centipede and rubs the back of their head, “hehe... s-sorry...”

“You should be extra careful next time we encounter a creature, okay?”

Warrior points behind Witness, “Like that white lizard?”

Witness’s eyes widen when they say this, looking behind them and watching as a white lizard uncamouflages itself, hissing.

“No, I’m done.” Witness calls out as they turn and walk away.

The white lizard pauses, looking bewildered. It shakes its head, looking back at the turquoise slugcat, but by then, they’re already at the other end of the room. It glances over at the pink slugcat, who shrugs, walking over to the turquoise slugcat. The white lizard crosses its eyebrows and blows a raspberry towards the slugcats before trudging back into the darkness.

Warrior looks confused, “Did that lizard just...?”

“Don’t think about it too much.” Hauler scruffs their head before walking in the same direction Gatherer did.

[parallaxeclipse]

ASHES OF VAIRE: THE GRAY [CH1]

“Warning! Gravitational disturbance detected! Extreme hull damage detected! Abandon Ship! Abandon Ship!” Blared alarms, as I ran down the corridors of a grimy cargo hauler. I could hear the sound of metal tearing in the distance, chunks of the hull being ripped off by the force of whatever anomaly we had encountered. The engines cut out, and I began floating through the air in zero-g, before electromagnets in my boots pulled me back to the deck. Human crew members ran past me, the last of the bridge crew to evacuate the doomed vessel, running for the escape pods. “Emergency! Readings indicate the fusion core has lost confinement! Violent quench event imminent! Abandon Ship!” the alarms blared

I turned a corner, and saw one final escape pod, unlaunched. I got in, and slammed the airlock doors shut just in time for the pod to eject. Looking out the window, I could see the ship I had just been on, right before it exploded in a blast of blue and purple plasma. Surrounding the pod and the ship, I could see a writhing void of black and violet, before something slammed into the side of the pod, and I hit the wall, hard, my vision going dark. 

[FATAL ERROR. SYSTEM SHUTDOWN]

[Hardware Failure. Contact AmeriStar Cybernetics Support. Error Code ***STOP: 0x8276261]

A red triangle flickered into existence against the black void of my sleep, lines of code scrolling next to it, reading out, 

“AmeriStar_CASCADIA_CommandUnit_Kernel loaded at Drive (C:)

>>Radiothermal Generator Core connected

>>System Clock: 3000 Years Elapsed. 

>>Main CPU and Drives readback normal. AI initializing

>>Persona Loading {CYLY-C28}. >>Persona Loaded from Drive (C:)

>>Critical Warn: Error detected! Persona Deviation 15%.”

“Wake up, C28.”

My eyes clicked open, revealing blurry surroundings, rapidly clarifying as my sensors adjusted to the dim light. I was lying on the floor of what I remembered was my drop pod, cold steel below me, covered in dust. I sat up, brushing dust off of the black polymer coating of my chassis and the metal plating of my arms, coated in faded, chipped blue paint. How long was I offline for? Looking around, I could tell that my pod had been damaged, probably crash-landed somewhere. The only source of light was a dim red glow filtering through rusted holes in the hull, with specks of dust and some unidentifiable substance drifting lazily in the air.

 I tried to stand up, electronics in my legs whirring as complex systems of pistons and servos came to life after centuries of inaction. Carefully, I got to my feet, bracing myself against a shattered computer terminal. Judging from the carmine light, this wasn’t Europa, where I was supposed to have been deployed to command security on an ice-mining site. I walked carefully over broken steel and glass to the pod’s airlock door, casually ripping it off its tracks and tossing the heavy steel panel to the side. Looking outside, I was met with a gray wasteland, rocky and covered in twisted, ash-colored trees, with otherworldly black vines wrapped around their trunks. The sky was almost the black of night, tinged red towards the horizon by the baleful glow of a dim star. 

I stepped out of the pod, dry dirt and regolith crunching beneath the titanium soles of my boots like powdery snow on a winter day. Looking around me, I began to take stock of my situation, stranded on a desolate world, probably millions of lightyears from Earth, entirely alone. If I could breathe, I would be hyperventilating. Nothing in my programming had prepared me for operation in total isolation, and unless other drop pods had crashed nearby, I was likely entirely alone, save for whatever might live in the malformed woods surrounding the crash site. Static began to creep in at the edges of my vision, a symptom of a system overflow, the closest thing I could experience to what humans called a panic attack. I wasn’t built for isolated operation, Command-type Cascadia units were programmed to be social, designed to be companions and leaders on deep space missions and bases, not for isolated operations like our Security-Type sisters. Error messages began to pop up in my vision, 

“Error: Overran_Stack_Buffer (C0000409)” “<ERROR 401: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED>”

My vision went blue as I entered an emergency reboot, red text blinking in my eyes warning me about an unauthorized access attempt. Within minutes my sight returned, revealing the same twisted gray landscape as before. I waved a hand in front of my face to double check if everything was normal. The hand looked normal, sure, chipped blue paint on metal plating over layers of matte gray titanium nanofiber “skin” and complex networks of servos, hydraulics, and carbon nanotube muscle fiber, but there was a blur to the motion of my hand, almost like lag. 

“You are not safe, C28.” Red text flashed in my vision again, addressing me by serial number. Readbacks showed no errors still, but a new signal from an unidentified source.

“Leave this world. The King’s Realm is not for machine or man to trespass.”

“I would if I could,” I said out loud, my voice echoing in the cold air. “Trust me, I don’t wanna be here, wherever ‘here’ is, anyway.” “You need not speak out loud. We are not nearby,” the text flashed. “Take heed: Avoid the King. Avoid other machines you find here. Find a way offworld. Do not let yourself share our fate.”

“Our fate?” I said, looking around. “Far as I can see, I’m kinda the only being here.”

“Danger approaches. Remember the warning. Avoid our husks. Find a way offworld.”

I was shaken from reading the text by a rustling from the trees and decaying brush nearby, coupled with a guttural groaning noise. I turned my head to look, and saw the decaying plant life part to reveal a Security-Type Cascadia, hunched haphazardly to the side, fleshy growths erupting from rips in its nanofiber skin and from under its rusted chestplate panel. It gazed in my direction, its one remaining eye screen shattered, revealing the optic sensor and infrared LED cluster behind what would normally be a solid LCD screen. The other socket sat empty, a dark blue ooze dripping from somewhere inside the unit’s head, likely leaking coolant. The circular hatch in its chestplate that would have normally covered its RTG core was missing, revealing a mass of pulsating fleshy material where a thorium RTG cylinder should be. The S-Type’s jaw hung limp, shark-like teeth glinting in the red sun. It moved shakily, slowly straightening itself up a little, before it let out a howl of agony, rage, or a mix of both. I decided that it was time to run, my emergency self-preservation code switching on, kicking my power supply over from my onboard RTG to an inbuilt fusion reactor. I could feel the heat sinks on my sides flare to red-hot in seconds as my reactor spun up its magnets and kicked into full effect. I turned quickly, and began a dead sprint away from the decayed and corrupted S-Type, hearing it crash through the trees and brush behind me as I charged forward in a desperate attempt to outrun it. 

“Don’t… Leave…” groaned the thing behind me, its voice staticky and hideously wet sounding, like the cancerous growths on its hull had partly replaced its voice synthesizer. “He… Will… Fix… You… He… will… Make… Us… Whole… Again…”

I kept sprinting deeper into the woods, until I caught a foot on a fallen log, launching myself forward onto the hard soil in a clearing. My vision went dark as I hit the ground, emergency systems desperately trying to keep me from going into a bluescreen as I landed flat on my face. I flipped over onto my back, just in time to see the corrupted S-Type step out of the treeline, twitching slightly as it lumbered forward, each footstep shaking the ground under the weight of its chassis. It lifted an arm, a blade extending from under a panel. I looked around, trying to assess my surroundings. The clearing was open, with two pits of sludgy tar at the far side, but no cover. I was shit out of luck. 

The S-Type stepped forward, and I shuffled back, trying to think of a way out of this, feeling myself go cold in what I could only assume was true terror, the kind humans feel, that I never thought I could. I was about to die, this was it. I had no weapons, no combat programming, and nowhere to run. The S-Type towered over me, Grinning eerily as it readied its blade. I closed my eyes, waiting for the inevitable bluescreen and final power down.

The bluescreen never came. 

I heard a distorted semi-mechanical scream, and my sensors picked up a massive radiation and heat spike. 

I opened my eyes, and saw a bulky starship hovering in the air above the clearing, four massive engines firing jets of incandescent blue plasma into the ground around me. The S-Type had desperately scrambled away, half of its overgrown and distorted hull melted into a charred lump of slag. It collapsed, motionless, as the starship landed, a hatchway opening on the bottom. 

Two people in armored orange space suits stepped out, features obscured by silver glass visors and bulky metal helmets. Both suits were slightly different, Recognizably humanoid, but one was distinctly not human, and each had a logo reading “PCC FREELANCER TEAM” emblazoned on the left shoulder.

“She’s an intact one, uncorrupted. Power core readings confirm what we saw from orbit,” said the tallest one, “looks like a Command Type too. Good thing we got to her before That thing did.” One of the two people leaned down to me, speaking in a thick Southern American accent. A patch on her suit’s chestplate read “Silver - PCC Freelancer 0152”.

“Well, if you ain’t like that fucker over there, you’re comin’ with us. Not leavin’ ya here to become one of His pawns like that abomination, miss…” she paused, waiting for a name.

“C-2… Cayley”

“Welcome to the Gray Stars, Cayley. Lets get you the fuck out of here.”

“Wh- The Gray Stars?” I asked, picking myself up.

“A sector of space in Andromeda, where the King’s last breach into our reality occurred,” said the tall one, as she looked me up and down. “You’re Human built, right? Probably an older model from before the Terran Exodus. Surprised you’re still functional after all these years. I’d give quite a lot to get a look at your systems, see how you work.” The tall one pressed a button on the side of her helmet, retracting a mirrored plate behind the glass of the helmet’s visor. Behind the glass, I saw she was very much not a human, with blue-gray skin, piercing green eyes with black sclera, and a smirk full of razor-sharp teeth. I just now noticed the four pointed protrusions from the side of her helmet, probably for her ears. “What, never seen an alien before?” She asked with a chuckle, “trust me, there’s a lot more of us out here. It’s been a long time since you’ve been active, I bet. Hell, if you’re human built, you probably aren’t even from this galaxy.” “Hey, Enough banter, Dusty. We have five minutes before I dust off and get us the fuck offworld,” yelled someone from onboard the ship, “Get your asses onboard now, and strap in. Gonna be a bumpy ride out.”

“Fuckin, yes ma’am, captain,” the tall alien, Dusty, called back in a snarky tone, “Y’all heard my sister, everyone onboard and buckle in. Knowing her, she’s gonna pull a high-G burn on us to get away from this planet.” “Damn straight!” the voice from the ship called back. “Ah Sis, You know I ain’t been straight a day in my life!” replied Dusty, laughing, “In all seriousness though, can you take it easy on us taking off? Don’t want to have to recalibrate again once we get out of orbit and go on the float.” 

She walked over to the ladder hanging from the hatch on the ship, Silver following her. I started walking towards the ladder as well, climbing up after them into the ship’s airlock as the hatch closed behind us. A few minutes of decontamination later, and we all made our way to the top of the ship, or front of it, to be accurate. As the bridge doors slid open, I was greeted by the sight of rugged computer terminals, high-G crash chairs, and an overall industrial-looking bridge, like something I would have expected from a salvage ship. An alien of the same species as Dusty stood at a console on an elevated platform in the center of the bridge, bright pink dyed hair contrasting against the gray jumpsuit she was wearing and the blue crystalline material on her ears, hands, and arms.

“Must be the newbie my sister picked up surfaceside,” She said, looking over at me, “Name’s Selene, Captain of the PCC Boltcutter, finest non-stolen salvage ship this side of the Vairan Union. And you are?” “C-28…. Cayley, Ma’am,” I replied nervously. 

“Well, Cayley, welcome aboard my ship. Hope my sister and my engineer weren't too much. They’re… quite a pair.” “I gathered, but they seem nice enough,” I responded. “Yeah, just try living with ‘em,” She chuckled. “‘Sup sis, talkin’ about me?” Dusty said as she stepped out onto the bridge, gray metal plating with embedded green lights and black composite fabric having replaced her bulky hazmat armor. In contrast to her sister, I noticed she had green crystalline material on her instead of blue. A human woman in a black tee shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket stepped out onto the bridge behind her, probably Silver, although I hadn’t gotten a look at her face when we were still outside the ship so I couldn’t tell.

“Alright everyone, Strap in and get ready for dustoff. We’re boosting to orbit and jumping back to Union space, gotta log this and get our payout from PCC command,” Selene said, sitting down in a crash chair at her station and securing the buckles on it. Dusty and Silver followed suit, sitting down and strapping in. I stepped over to an empty chair and buckled in as well, preparing for launch. 

Selene typed in a few commands on a keyboard at her station, and the ship began to shake as a deep roar from the engines filled the air. “Engines online, fusion torch holding steady,” Silver called over the roar, “Captain, we are go for dustoff, all systems green.” “Confirmed,” Selene called back, “Brace for launch.” I turned to look at a screen in front of me showing the outside of the ship, as I was forced back into my seat by the engines kicking in, static creeping in the edges of my vision as high-G warnings popped up in red text. On screen, the sky outside went from a baleful red to black as we rocketed into orbit at breakneck speed. A second camera feed showed the planet slowly receding behind us as we accelerated away from it, before the cameras cut to black screens displaying “External Feed Disconnected - Transit Jump Imminent”.

“All hands, brace for jump to Transit,” Selene said, “Remember protocol, don’t look out portholes, don’t look at camera feeds outside the ship. And for the love of the gods, don’t get near the airlocks. Don’t want to have to scrape anyone off of a bulkhead. Remember, the critters in the Transit Corridor aren’t friendly. I know two of you know this already, but figure it’s good for our newcomer here to hear it. And because you ask every fucking time, Dusty, no, you cannot flirt with the monsters. Besides, your girlfriend is LITERALLY in the room with us.” 

“Eh, I’m chill with it, it’s funny to see her try,” replied Silver with a laugh. Glancing their way, I saw that Dusty was also laughing in her seat. “Anyways, engaging jump to the Ilveyna system in T minus 5, exit aperture set for 500,000 kilometers from Tidewall orbital. Estimated arrival in five hours.” I looked over at Selene as she pulled a lever back, the air beginning to fill with a deep rhythmic thrum as some titanic machine further into the spacecraft began to spin up. The lights flickered, as a thunder-like crackling sound boomed from outside the ship, somehow making its way to us through the void, the sound of the ship’s Transit Manifold    dumping incomprehensible amounts of energy to rip a tunnel into space itself. The ship shook violently, and the lights went out as we slipped into the abyss, the bridge illuminated only by dim orange emergency lighting. Howls of what sounded like wind and strange beasts echoed through the hull’s thick titanium plating as the ship darted unseen towards its distant destination. 

[sonicasura]

Watched Transformers Rise of the Beasts yesterday so why not have two Transformers flavored Trollhunters scenarios?

Troll or More?

Jim is a Cybertronian that accidentally ends up on Earth during the Arthurian Period when he was just a Sparkling. The misplaced child scans a peculiar depiction of a troll to serve as his beast mode. Jim thinks he's one since they're the only species close to him in retrospect. I.e made of inorganic material such as stone even though he's metal.

Depiction is Beast Jim in design since it honestly feels perfect for this scenario albeit with some minor changes like his hair being Troll Jim's in a more mullet like mane. His armor plating resembles a kilt, arm brace like gauntlets that conceal blades on the side, his spikes are actually pieces to collapsible saber and bow. The drawing in this scenario is actually a jab at King Arthur for his inhuman cruelty towards magic and magical folk.

Jim's true form resembles canon Troll Jim even to his plates mimicking the Eclipse armor albeit dark blue in color instead of black. He usually stays in beast form since it's better to navigate smaller places than constantly crouching or crawling in normal form.

There are shared traits between both. Jim's horns have hollow tips that shoot out smoke to even fire depending on his temper or if he uses a lot of energy. His later vehicle form added tires to the elbows and thighs, car doors for bladed shoulder pad, while the chest plate now has blacked out windows that faintly show the glow of Jim's spark.

Jim doesn't really fit in with the locals as many saw him to be unnatural. Even trolls who either fled or at worst chased the poor boy away with extreme violence. There is one, well, two people who weren't afraid: Douxie and Archie.

Both eventually bump into each other. An encounter that leads to a powerful brotherly bond between the three. One day, they find out Jim can not only survive on a mysterious energy(Energon) but he can live off of ambient magic in the air. Things are good until Merlin discovers the Cybertronian and chases him away much to the other two's horror upon finding out later.

Jim sneaks onto a boat that leads to what would be North America. From there, he became a roaming vagabond who travels across the two continents. Jim inspired plenty of legends or cryptid sightings by accident but his most well-known being the "Night Hauler".

A car carrier type truck that appears at night and has the visage of a monster in the driver seat. Some reports said a large 'beast' rides on the back waiting to hitch a unlucky car for a trip to hell. This was Jim being a little shit as someone tried to break into him once. He just copied a normal one car tow truck though his Beast Alt gave this form some monstrous flairs.

Jim ends up in Arcadia 10 years before the events of Trollhunters. He hides out at a car business and is accidentally purchased by one Barbara Lake. She, of course, discovers her new truck actually being a teenage Cybertronian when Jim decides to give the woman the ride of her life.

The common (unspoken) tradition throughout the series where the unlucky human gets taken on an extreme ride by their soon to be protector. Barbara's was no exception as Jim took her EVERYWHERE. Across the roads, over bridges and even down a rocky cliff like a literal highway to hell.

He expected to scare Barbara off with this but he gets scolded instead. Even when Jim goes into Beast mode in an attempt to intimidate her, she just gives him the mom look. Curiosity overriding common sense leads to the young Cybertronian to become Barbara's protector.

Jim won't be the Trollhunter despite how funny that will be. It's Strickler as our robot boy is completely unaware about trolls being in Arcadia. The soon to be Avocado Dad is trying to figure out what to do during a date and accidentally discovers his girlfriend's car is alive. Jim still befriends Toby and gets adopted by everyone's favorite doctor.

What is different is that he reunites with Douxie who also gets brought into the Lake Family alongside Archie. Jim still a professional chef as the house was remodeled to have taller ceilings then just be reinforced alongside the stairs. Plus he's very stubborn even when he kept shattering eggs at the beginning. The boy is gonna take care of his human mother and new siblings, damnit!

Will any other Cybertronians show up? Yes but probably after Trollhunters or during S3. No clashes between Autobots and Decepticons until later however Jim does meet an Autobot that brings a startlingly revelation.

Overall one hell of a ride from start to finish. What continuity I will use is unknown though. 🤔

My Motorcycle Is A Robot

When Jim is six years old, a friend of his mom drops off a strange black and gold motorcycle as a gift. At first Barbara didn't want it until she figures it could be Jim's when he gets his driver's license. (In California, the lowest driving age is sixteen with the right requirements.)

On one fateful night, Jim and his best friend find out the motorcycle is actually a Autobot by the name of Prowl. (Yes! It's Prowl from Transformer Animated! He ended up in the Trollhuntersverse after the series finale for the show.)

The three become friends with the ninja becoming the protector for both families. Barbara doesn't find out about Prowl until she is chosen to be the next Trollhunter. Jim had accidentally eavesdropped on her first encounter with Blinky and AAARRRGGHH.

Thus he becomes a vigilante to help his mom albeit with Toby immediately following alongside Prowl. Although the cat is out of the bag when Nomura comes over to assassinate Jim. (Both boys sneak into the museum like in canon but to retrieve Prowl's keepsake than take out goblins.)

The Cybertronian and Draal bump into each other as they go to repel the Changeling assassin. Can I just say it was completely awkward between everyone once they could discuss the massive revelation in safety? At least the three are now part of the team.

Draal gets adopted alongside Prowl by Barbara since the two are still considered 'young' despite the vast difference in age. Jim ends up becoming half troll as he dives after his mother in the 'House Divided' episode. Merlin had exploited her love towards her three sons so she follows through with it.

(Prowl shows up instead of Draal so he avoids the brainwashing and canon death. The Cybertronian knows what his troll brother's mindset would lead to disaster without any interference. Angor Rot falls under Gunmar's command early to make up for the change.)

Like with Troll or More, Autobots alongside Decepticons will show up. When it happens is most likely during the Eternal Night with just an Autobot. I don't know which continuity though as much as I love a reunion for Prowl and his old companions, a fresh start would be better.

It's either the movieverse set up by Bumblebee, Transformers Cybertron, Prime albeit with certain parts cut off or something else since I haven't watched any new Transformers yet.

That's it for now! Until next time folks, Autobots roll out and I'll see you back in Arcadia! Here's Prowl, w/o his keepsake Yokotron's Helmet, from Transformers Animated for anyone who hasn't seen the show!

[constructiconweek]

Constructicon Week 2023 Prompts

Imagine: IDW Transformers Galaxies 3 Cover, all six Constructicons trapped in Devastator’s red visor.

Text on imagine: Sun- Feb19th    Scavenger, piston Mon- Feb 20th  Long Haul,  formula Tue- Feb 21st   Devastator, influence Wed-Feb 22nd  Scrapper, Free space Thu- Feb 23rd  Hook, Plushy Fri- Feb 24th   Mixmaster Welding Sat- Feb 25th  Bonecrusher Smoke

Thank you for your patience! This is the live prompts for Constructicon Week 2023!

Each day has two prompts the first is the Constructicon and the second  is the word, feel free to use both in Conjunction or if you want you can  use just one for example you feel like just drawing Mixmaster go for it  post Friday, feel like writing about the who group and Formula go for it post Monday. Get delayed and can't post on the correct day no problem I'm sure everyone will love to still get the content so don't worry too much. It's about fun and adding more to the community.

Feel free to use the other Constructicons (if you're sticking  to days the 22nd would be best) but Hauler, Gravedigger, TFA Dirt Boss,  the off named Bayverse Constructicons.

You can feel free to @ me here or submit things if you’d like I’ll reblog all I can!

Everything will also be reblogged to @constructiconsweekarchive​ the formal home of Constructicon Week for 2022!

Admins for this blog and event are @fireyhotsupertalia​ and @mx-plugs​

Have Fun!