#iaconclerk

Send me ‘💍’ for our muses to wake up married after a night of heavy drinking

Rung woke up with his head spinning around and a migraine. Primus he thought to himself, what happen last night? All he could remember going out for a drink, having a lot which was odd seen normal he didn’t do that but then again he was a light weight and it might have been three that had done it and talking to someone, other than that he could remember what happen.

He looks around and then fears struck him, this wasn’t his room, this wasn’t his place. He looks over and saw someone was sleeping in the berth next to him. He was facing his back but he knew it was someone else he didn’t know. Rung tried to think of what to do…should he leave, should he say something or just wait, he finally decides to wait for this mystery person to wake up and then have a talk.

Oh, I know, right? I didn’t believe it at first either, but it makes sense when you think about it. It’s mentioned in the Aligned continuity books that travelling from Iacon to Kaon, which are almost on the exact opposite sides of the planet, took Orion only a day or two, by land, in his vehicle mode. Of course, if it were Cybertronian days, then I’m not sure, but they’re usually expressed in normal time. Also, I’m pretty certain I heard the Cybertronian population was never in billions, but only a few hundred million at most. They also lack oceans the way Earth has, so that only plays a factor on why it fits it was smaller.

The hall of records had all of Cybertronian history, and that includes the art, fiction, journals, and so on- there’s this one journal from early Cybertronian history, right? The earliest known one, even! It’s hard to read because the symbols change a huge amount, but I read a translated version once. The bot was probably an early version of me- there’s one chapter where they are talking about the “weird chest flame” and they start mentioning prodding at it. The journal ends there, so you can probably guess how that went.

starter for @iaconclerk

Tarn sat alone in a room devoid of decoration or color. It was a glorified cube, really, just enlarged to comfortably fit mechs of his stature. His distasteful observations took note of the tall, glassy walls and automated defense systems likely behind them.

Not that he could do much right now. His body was kept artificially weak with a stasis claw fastened onto the small of his back, sapping him of energy and strength, and keeping him from transforming. His vocal talent was stemmed by a harsh clamp that prevented his vocalizer from emitting the lethal octave he used to snuff sparks. Stripped of his weapons, shackled down so he could only really move his helm, Tarn was as vulnerable as someone like him could be.