#honor cxde

[ghostlyvisage]

Short Starter for @honor-cxde

"Dreadwing?" He's draped lazily across the most comfortable surface available, watching the other mech.

"Have you ever wore... extra armor or jewelry of any kind?"

[alacrityabound]

@honor-cxde - "What is this ... Paypal and VenMo?"

“Popular human virtual currency services. But one of them lets me describe goods and services through emojis. I use PayPal to actually buy things and Venmo to send my human friends money.”

[unicronnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnom]

@honor-cxde replied...

How.

( You presume he can hate. )

( You presume him to not care for your existence. )

( You presume his absence to be malicious, rather than... simple, unintentional neglect. )

( Gods are simple. We feel only certain things. I only hate, he only loves. And he does love. I smell it often. )

( It's irritating. Blind love is itchier than the rest. )

[aircommndr]

tell me about the moment your muse realised they liked mine, platonic or otherwise!

@honor-cxde

"It's so vivid in my mind, that moment. Like a sunrise, it offered such clarity."

"In that moment I realized how much I just... don't like you at all."

"We are trying to write a response but the Mun hasn't stopped laughing yet."

"Fuck you too, Dreadwing."

[autobot-scout-riella]

@honor-cxde liked for a starter!

Riella’s used to running into Dreadwing at the library, where she’s been forced to spend more and more time lately (no, she is not starting to regret going back to school, not even a little bit). She’s not used to seeing him somewhere as normal and social as a local cafe, even if he’s sitting quietly in a corner by himself, and she almost doesn’t recognize him.

“Dreadwing? I haven’t seen you around in a while.”

[remixofpraxus]

Forgive his appearance. He still sports bandages from accidentally blowing himself up not long ago.

"Apologies, but... I do not think I caught your name."

@honor-cxde

She's a bit startled by his appearance, but she's more worried than anything.

"I'm Remix, are you alright? I'm no medic but if you need some help I can do basic repairs..."

[xretiredcommanderx]

🕯️

[Meme|Accepting]

Dreadwing. You have an innate sense of loyalty. Very deep rooted. That is something that I strongly admire in mechs. It's one of the best qualities in someone: Integrity, loyalty, and discernment. The three qualities that I admire most.

I see those qualities in you. You know how to hold true to your values no matter what someone says and that speaks volumes. You see something or someone for who they are and you are not afraid to call them out. And you will unabashedly be you.

No matter what comes your way:

Never change.

[seekerblue]

The restoration of Cybertron was truly glorious news. Thundercracker's part in the war effort had ended when he abandoned the Decepticons and Cybertron collectively; he'd stolen a Shade-class bomber called the Arctava and taken off for deep space. By the time he'd reached Earth, it'd been more than a vorn since he last spoke to another Cybertronian. It had been a brief encounter with whom he believed to be Dirge, though he couldn't confirm; the signal was far too degraded, and was coming from a dark sector with a dying star. His ship wouldn't have lasted long enough to get a visual, with how inefficient its fuel burn was, so he left, even knowing he may have been dooming an old friend to death.

After all, what help would he be if his energon ran dry? Then he'd be dead, too.

Sometime after Cybertron went dark, he'd picked up a signal from none other than Optimus Prime, calling for Autobots to rally at specific coordinates. He was hesitant, but Optimus had once extended to him an invitation to join the Autobots; at the time, he'd declined, even though he wanted to join them. He couldn't have faced Starscream and Skywarp again if he betrayed them in such a way; instead, he'd given Optimus his energon reserves and fled. The memory bade him follow the signal to Earth, hoping he might be of at least some help.

As it turned out, he never truly was. He remained hidden all the way up to the final days of the conflict, until Megatron fell dead from his ship and the Autobots restored Cybertron. He had still been hidden away in the jungles of Peru when the news reached him, and, perhaps recklessly, he fired the ship's engines and took to the skies immediately. He knew he was going to be late; any transmissions he picked up usually reached him months, even years late. But he wanted to see it, to see his home restored to its former luster - especially Praxus. He'd had no small part in its destruction. If he could redeem himself, even just a little, by aiding in its reconstruction - then he was honor bound to do so.

This time, though, the ship's navigation wasn't quite working as well. Instruments were malfunctioning, fuel efficiency was at the worst he'd ever seen it; the crash had really done a number on it. He was navigating himself, manually piloting moreso by memory than any instrument data. He was jumping through wormholes whose trajectory he'd previously mapped out, trying to get back to Cybertron as fast as possible, but one of them put him out somewhere else. A dark quadrant with a dwarf star, one he didn't recognize. He must've been mistaken; this wasn't one of the ones he'd jumped through before.

One of the screens on the console lit up, flagging a ship just past the farthest planet. It wasn't one he could identify, if it even was a ship. He couldn't be sure the Arctava wasn't flagging an asteroid, with how outdated and damaged the systems were. The systems responsible for identifying ship classification & friend or foe status shorted out in the crash, and he'd been unable to repair them. All he had was a blip on his long-range sensors.

Just this once, he allowed a modicum of hope to creep its way in. He flicked two switches, turned a dial, and spoke, opening his comm. on an open frequency.

::Unidentified vessel, this is the Decepticon Shade-class ship Arctava hailing on an open line. Pilot identification: Thundercracker, Seeker Squadron Omega-6. If you're reading me -- well. I'd appreciate not being shot at.::

He had no way of knowing how many Autobots or Decepticons had heard about the war's end; he didn't want to risk being blown up by an overzealous Autobot. But maybe this one would be sensible; Autobot or Decepticon, he was certainly looking forward to having something other than the ship to talk to. Maybe they would even be willing to guide him back to Cybertron, seeing as he got himself so utterly lost.

Or maybe it would turn out to be a chunk of space rock and he'd have to find his own way out. That would be his usual luck.

@honor-cxde hit the starter call!

[a-life-revised]

@honor-cxde

It does nothing to comfort Dreadwing to know that this Quark was someone dangerous. Despite being a Seeker, he almost supernaturally does not emote with his wings, and his optics lack pupils; he is a very difficult mech to read.

"... Rung was not feeling well, recently, and he told me that he worried someone would tell this "Quark" of his weakness. He seems afraid."

Deft talons clench into powerful fists.

"Is this someone we should be worried over? I will hunt him down, if need me, to protect the ones living here."

{ @honor-cxde )

"Quark is dead." It is intensely... gratifying, that someone else is so invested in Rung's safety, because yes, he should be protected, why would you ever want to let him be hurt?

Megatron rocks back on the heel of one pede, shifting his weight on his hip, and rests his knuckles on his hips, optics squinting as he considers Dreadwing. "Sometimes Rung forgets where he is, in the moment. Typically, something triggers that response."

He tips his helm a little, contemplative.

"Usually something to do with medical help. I'm the only one he reall lets work on him, besides Ratchet."

[ghostlyvisage]

He's sweet, but Ghost won't elaborate on the sparkeater or cannibalism bit.

But he appreciates the mech for not minding everything else.

[alacrityabound]

// ITS YOOOOOUUUUUUU WELCOME BACK

Yes!!! Hello!!!!! It’s meeeeeee!!!! I missed you!!! <3

[a-life-revised]

"As long as we're clear," Megatron rumbled, optics squinting just a little.

"And in that, I suppose, we share something." This was said with a wry bit of humor, and perhaps a slight twist to his words. "I am also a traitor to the Cause. But more than that, I want Rung to be happy. If you also make him happy, I will not stand in the way of that. I would like for him to have more people in his life who look after him." A pause, and then Megatron tipped his helm, as though he were trying to figure Dreadwing out. "I'm not wrong," he drawled, settling his servos on his hips, "in my assumption that you like Rung." It's not a question. Most people who meet Rung like Rung- Rung is likeable, it's more a fact than an opinion. But liking Rung and liking Rung were different things. "You like Rung. He likes you." Megatron's gaze turned into something much more considering, then, optics trailing up and then down Dreadwing's frame. Which usually meant he was thinking.

"Why don't you come over some time, for dinner?"

Then Megatron could see for himself how Rung and Dreadwing interacted. "It's Rung's turn to make dinner, so I'll let him know you might swing around to join us." There was a proximity ping- Megatron had sent Dreadwing his comm number.

@a-life-revised

"I'll skip the pleasantries." Sometimes, the best way to get around these sorts of situations was to be blunt, and Megatron didn't want to dance around what he believed to be a small issue. "You're seeing Rung," he started, keeping his servos where Dreadwing could see them. He didn't.. personally know Dreadwing, but Rung spoke of him, sometimes. Megatron could only operate on the idea that Dreadwing also knew who he was, and act accordingly. "I have no issue with this- in fact, I approve. Rung has a hard time speaking up about what he wants, because he hates being a bother, but he likes you. A lot. I trust his judgement, so all I ask if that you're good to him. Can you promise me that?" Megatron's tone was soft, level, but his optics were sharp, piercing, as he searched Dreadwing's face plates. This was his conjunx, after all. "Can you promise me that you won't hurt him? Because I do think it's good, that you're seeing each other. ..this is blanket permission, if that wasn't clear, should both of you consent to such a thing. I must be perfectly clear. I am not upset about this."

At first, it's more restless anxiety, settling in his gut, amping up his systems in preparation for fight or flight. Flight may be his best option -- can this Megatron fly, like the one from his world? If he can, none of the warlords he has ever come across has been a true Seeker, and Dreadwing is an incredibly talented flier. He should be able to outmaneuver and outpace him.

But then comes confusion. Stony features break up, dark brows rising up in surprise. Seeing him? Since when? There are certain steps that must be taken in order for someone to be classified as "seeing" someone, at least in the ex-commander's mind. He never courted Rung, he never gave him gifts or brought him food or performed sky-high maneuvers at one and a half times the speed of sound to prove his worth as a Seeker. Rung is happily mated and has offspring with Megatron, Dreadwing wouldn't even remotely thing such a thing to be acceptable.

And yet, here he is, struck plum stupid by the silver mech's words. But after a moment, a certain sentence breaks the trance.

"Hurt... hurt him?" Dreadwing scoffs a little. "I would never. The only way I could ever fathom such a thing would be my end, but I cannot entirely prevent that. I travel the multiverse at large, and often encounter the more seedy side of things. But I would never intentionally hurt him."

"So in that, you have my word, however little it may be worth, these days. I am a traitor to the Decepticon cause and an oathbreaker.

"... But I would sooner die than see a single tear shed by my cause."

[unicronnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnom]

@honor-cxde replied...

Literally no one should do this.

( COWARD. )

[aircommndr]

@honor-cxde liked for a lyrics starter | x

"Good times, for a change. See, the luck I've had can make a Good Man turn Bad...So please, please, please, let me...

"Let me get what I want, this time."

[autobot-scout-riella]

❝ A soldier’s best quality is her sense of allegiance. Of Loyalty. Nothing else survives. ❞

@honor-cxde

The Locked Tomb Starters | Accepting

"...you know, I can't even disagree with you, but does that feel a little fragged up to anyone else? We weren't all volunteers, and here we are a million years later and the only thing we've got left is loyalty."

Not that she was ever uncomfortable saying that kind of thing in public, but a drink sure helps. She might need another one.

@honor-cxde

[iaconsavior]

Now that is High Guard material.

None of this 2D from side on seekers. This guy was as broad as he was tall, cut quite the figure, and the gold face would look perfect looming ominously to the side during meetings.

".... You need a job, big guy?"