Do you have any headcanons about Megatron when he was a miner? Specifically about disability? Also do you have any headcanons on the workings of Cybertronian mines?(mining ethics are one of my special interests lol)
I have spent the past hour reading about mining operations and overall functions. And yet I can't even bring myself to be mad about it because it was so interesting. With that said I hope you enjoy this little bit of writing! I really love world building!
Mining Operations on Cybertron
Recruitment
D-16 was picked up and sent to the mines the moment he emerged from the well of allsparks and was unable to provide the guardian his name. There was no welcome package or even any explanation as to what was going on. He was just shoved into a large transport alongside the other unfortunate mechs who came out of the well without names and ferried off.
He arrived at the mines confused and innocent, however that swiftly changed after his recruitment. D-16 was put into a scout group composed of other freshly forged mechs and one to two older mechs used to the job. He spent the first couple years of his life in this group, scouting the surface for possible energon deposits and climbing into treacherous pits to examine them for his "employers". After watching several members of his scouting group die to accidents and natural hazards, he quickly learned that his life was worth next to nothing and that he and his brethren were seen as tools, easy to replace and disposable.
It was during his time as a scout that he learned about the castes and the functioning of Cybertronian society. During one of the few times he was allowed to enter into the city for some purpose or another, he was enlightened to the true difference in lifestyle for those above ground. He saw mechs living on the streets, stealing and scavenging, but at least still able to retain their freedom. He witnessed nobles parading around doing whatever they pleased and indulging in every luxury. And then lastly he saw the average middle caste mechs, working day in and day out just to live a reasonable life but never achieving anything notable for the most part.
He saw the huge gap between the elite, the middle caste, and the low caste bots and he despised it.
Open Pit Mining
After proving himself capable through training several batches of new recruits, D-16 was "promoted" and sent to work with the pit mining crew. His job essentially amounted to digging out the hole in the ground that the more experienced miners would then use to construct a proper mine.
It was dull work. Day in and day out he would swing his pick and use his saw to chip away at the metal of Cybertron's soil and haul it away to be processed. The dusk clogged his vents, making it hard for him to cool off properly. There were several occasions where other less sturdy mechs outright died due to overheating. D-16 very nearly died himself, if it weren't for an older miner taking him out of the sight of their overseers and cleaning his vents for him, he would have perished.
The energon rations were also subpar. The quality of the energon was absolute rubbish and exchanged any form of pleasant taste for nutrient value. Still, as a large mech with rations containing not nearly enough energon for a mech of his size, he consumed his rations as quickly as possible to avoid the very common fights that broke out. More often than not, the larger mecha were given rations meant for bots half their size, often leading them to fight and steal others rations. D-16 abstained from such things, even stepping in at times, but the sight did serve to further cement his distaste of the caste system even further.
Thankfully D-16 was never seriously injured or suffered from any noteworthy energon deficiency during his time as a pit miner. And by Primus is he thankful for it. He saw what happened to mecha who had a health problem that couldn't be fixed with a weld, patch, or small energon transfusion.
As the overseers of the mining operation still had to adhere to some basic laws, a medical team was called in every few weeks to look over the miners and tend to any injuries that were worth being seen to. D-16 quickly came to the conclusion that anything that cost more than a handful of credits to fix was something that medics were ordered to ignore. He could only watch in horror as one of his fellows, an unfortunate mech who had his leg torn straight off in an accident, was left to bleed out.
When he tried to help the dying mech he was pulled away by some of the older miners who hushed him and pointed out other younglings who were attempting the same thing. D-16 was once again left horrified as the mecha attempting to help the suffering miner were beat for their efforts and ordered away. There was nothing D-16 could do as his fellow miner died right before his optics even though there were medics less than a few meters away.
Underground Mining
After yet again proving his worth by working hard and training up the newbies who came from the scouting groups, D-16 was "promoted" once more and joined the ranks of the elder miners. He really wasn't all that old, but often life expectancy within the low castes, especially the mines, is not exemplary. Not only that, but if he thought that being a pit miner was dangerous, then his new station as an underground miner was infinitely more so.
Underground miners died to accidents, cave ins, injury, and any number of others things regularly. Some were even grabbed by creatures in the deep and others straight up vanished after falling into particularly large crevasses. There was no guarantee of survival, not even for miners with centuries of experience.
Thankfully the elder miners were kind and put D-16 on excavation duty until he was accustomed to the darkness and the dangers of the underground. And soon enough he learned what was required of him and joined his elders in mining away.
During his time as an underground miner he was made aware of some of the more intimate customs of his caste. He was taught to listen to the hidden songs of his comrades and swiftly figured out how to add to them. He learned how to snatch small portions of unprocessed energon and how to not get caught with it. And later, one he had lived more than a few years underground, he was invited to join his elders in their small celebrations and story telling sessions.
Through all this he really began to feel like he was part of a family, an odd family, but a family all the same. Hence he started doing what his elders had done for him, teaching the younglings and protecting them until they understood what was required of them. And against the better wishes of his peers, D-16 silently began planning for change.
Processing
Eventually D-16 became trusted enough to be "promoted" to the processing division. A function that was considered a great "honor" among miners due to how reading and writing were a skill taught upon the "promotion" being given. And while innocent enough for other miners, ones complacent with their place in life, for D-16, learning to read and write was a game changer.
During his working hours he would crush the energon crystals collected and send them through the purifier. But when off the clock D-16 watched, listened, and asked questions. He would talk with the dock workers and haulers that came to collect the energon, and through them he gained some contraband reading material. By working hard and winning a few card games against the shuttles that came by occasionally, D-16 was given the tools needed to write. With these two things, D-16 wrote his first set of poems, ones depicting his life as a miner.
Under an alias D-16 started to stir up the masses with his works that slowly stopped being poems and instead turned into controversial essays on the working of Cybertron. It wasn't a grand following by any means, but he was getting the average mecha to begin asking questions. And while he didn't know it at the time, his writing became the foundations of his revolution.
His peers kept his writing habits a secret, but eventually word got out to the overseers and D-16 knew he was done for. He was hauled out of his quarters and had the life beaten out of him. He expected death, but instead the overseers saw his build and had another plan in mind for him.
Before D-16 could even process what had happened to him, he was already on a transport to the Gladiatorial arena.
Extra
Long after his time in the mines, Megatron's vents still ache on occasion due to the constant abuse they suffered during his early years. He also feels phantom chills where old wounds he had carefully hidden from overseers once burned. And on top of that, he regularly finds his joints flaring up in pain from his time doing heavy labor nonstop.
He takes pain suppressors when he it becomes unbearable but his aches and pains are lingering scars from his origins.
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I’ve seen a few people passing around a uquiz and doing it for their OCs. I only do these if they give interesting/insightful results for my top favorite OCs, and this one definitely meets my standards:
What kind of love are you?
LOVE AS A FORCE OF NATURE
Your love is like whiplash -- it comes in with the rain, it blows the doors wide open. When you fall in love, it is sudden and hard and immense. It is powerful. It is earthshaking and world-ending. Nature is a force, and that force can be destructive if you're not careful. See how the world is doused in gasoline and set on fire -- your love consumes, your love takes, your love burns. You're hot and cold all at once, a hurricane and a wildfire bound together in skin, and when you're in love, it can feel like it's eating you alive from the inside out. When you love, it is with everything you have because it is everything you have. Be careful, darling, because not everyone survives the storm.
LOVE AS YOUTH
Your love is buoyant. Your love is bountiful. It is ageless, and it will never age. When you fall in love, it is breathless. It is joyful and endless, it is magnificent. You think it, like your youth, will last forever. Youth is eternal, and so is your love. Your love skips rocks and tells stories, your love roasts marshmallows over fires, and laughs freely. Your love does not take itself too seriously. Your love is jumping into puddles just to watch the water splash, and dancing in the rain, and it is watching Sunday morning reruns of cartoons to feel young once more. Your love is forever, forever young. Being loved by you is to be loved by the summer months. And those never end, do they? Well, I won't tell if you don't.
LOVE AS A CHOICE
You choose to love. Love does not come to you easily, but every day you wake up and choose it. It would be so easy, wouldn't it, to grow cold and callous and grim. But you rise to greet the world, making the conscious effort to find something, anything to love. When you fall for someone, you do not kid yourself of their flaws. Instead, you resolve to see them for who they are, mistakes and all and you love them all the same. Your love is work, and it does not come easy. Your love sweats and toils. It is calloused and sunburned; it bears scars and comes with stories. Your love is worn, but it is no less valuable for it. Being loved by you is like being loved by a gardener, a mother, a teacher. Your love may not always be the simplest, but it is worth the effort.
LOVE AS A FLAW
Cowering, your love hides in the dark. In shadows and under cover of night, your love runs from corner to corner, afraid to linger, afraid to be caught. Afraid, afraid, afraid of everything. When you fall in love, it is with alarm bells ringing. Your love is a mistake, a flaw in the code, a purchase you don't remember making and desperately want to return. You didn't ask for this. You didn't want this. It's a problem-- your problem --and you would do anything to pass it off, burn it away, scoop it out of you with bare hands, or carved out with hooked knives before it can destroy you. Get it out, just get it out now. You don't care who you hurt in the process, only that you can't afford to be hurt first. Being loved by you is to be loved by a figment of the imagination. It is to be loved in halves, or not at all.
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