does the g stand for gay HAAAAAAAAAAAAA

. stroking her stolen stolen minimus mustache in the mirror, evilly, and with much thought . " guzzle . how do i look . " be honest with him ... or be harpooned ..

. springer's pinned appears unsalvageable. much like the success of the new wreckers ' team . ' ..impactor always preferred squadron, but to each their supposed own. except no. to the winner gets the spoils. to the winner gets the story. she is fisitron's favorite, after all .

. punches

. TURNING AROUND ??

. " seekers are nothing more than the loud, irritable birds that scavenge amongst the litter of beaches. they feed on attention better than they feed on trash . "

. what was that .

. sunshine brittles the paint and rainbows make her color look too busy and gaudy, like he's the fake giant ornatw gemstone ring an old lady would wear . sunshine and rainbows are Not impactor's thing .

. but there is no salmon ? what will it eat ? it will truly be hungry, then . this is a stupid idea. rust yourself .

. oh? now they weep for her? he thought springer was the new leader . manifest that .

. shut the fuck up .

. EW.

. her celebratory victory of the carnage of an inanimate TV halts then drops with his irritated, grumpy frown as he is ridiculously pelted by its scraps and by some little shrimp, too! AND he's FRENCH? THIS IS WHERE IMPACTOR DRAWS THE LINE (RAH 🦅) " ours ? last i checked, you didn't do shit . "

. she has killed the idiot dog . throwing his servo and harpoon up in celebration. GUZZLE. COME RELISH IN THE IDIOT DOG'S DEMISE. THIS IS WHY WE WRECK. THIS IS HOW WE RULE . using the tv's remains as a heroic step stool to continue her cool posing on nothing .

. SHOOTING HIS HARPOON, AIMING IT AT THE SLEAZY'S REPORTER'S SCRAWNY INTAKE, DOESN'T EVEN CARE THAT -- or seem to know -- THAT IT'S NOT ACTUALLY LETHAL. RIPPING THE TV OUT OF ITS WIRES. THE TV THAT MAKES YOU IRRITABLE AND FESTERING .

. her harpoon whirls with every cold word from the mech, the subordinate, the- speaking of traitors. first, gold optics flicker down to the tank. then his helm. .. this is what he wanted. that, and, believe it or not, a training session with the recruits. to see what they had in store .

. 💭 topspin read the fuck out of me, i'm not gonna lie . that kind of hurt. God damn . i need a moment .

. 💭 that bird that i hate .

. 💭 the hell .

. not going to hit him. not yet. waiting . just holding the bottle . watching like the vultures around them . these rats with wings, the wreckers that pretended to be better than them ... they weren't autobots. they were worse . and that? was a high bar to beat .

. harpoon shoots back into its holster. just in time, too, from the way the line taut, especially after that shot, he could sense her target was slimming. he wishes the ice cracked over the cliff, but oh well. an opportunity missed. one strike. he readied another swing with a Smile .

. .. she doesn't say hi. he doesn't even nod. golden optics line with a royal purple sear the rotored mech, noting his recoil backwards. the gladiator scans the sides, leisurely, but sure of herself. he mimicks the straightening posture of his soldiers. His. wreckers. hers. all hers .

. trudging next to the frost on the ground. .. frost.. frost.. ..why is that.. familiar . he recalls topspin's reports mentioning something along the lines of ice... skilled... compassionate... worthy to be recognized as a real wrecker.. ..worried about pain medication.. .. all the words that

the way the wreckers went to shit after guzzle showed up

. 💭 this is what happens when springer leads. cruelty becomes a circus show . nothing but hamsters running with their heads bitten off . her enjoyment has considerably dipped since seeing the flier get saved .

. halting his beat some sense back into guzzle mission to watch rotorstorm fall through the sky. .. an angry speck high above him. ....... well. stopping to watch the splat. she didn't expect a drink and a show. maybe he owed that swerve guy an apology ?

. the wrecker barely budges. staring straight up at the sky. ...the hell.. .. remembering someone said something to him, he turns to meet the outlier's stare. .. weak. but dedicated. .. he'd make a good soldier. he'll keep that in mind . a suitable mechshield from the reserves .. literally .

. great shoulders slump, letting his bottle of 'well-deserved' hard nucleon lower. .. now i gotta turn back around... .. no, casting a sharp glare across his shoulder. trailbreaker. one of the weakest outliers ever . ... he just scoffs. the gladiator keeps walking .

fat aft

. watching that grubby little servo with digits that were comparable to caterpillars made the ex-leader's gestational engines sour, cringing in disgust. an upper lip curls, a sickly scar stretched across it . still staring at swerve, he finally raises his harpoon shooting a bottle of the fine

. 💭 G.I.T. ... Gastrointestinal Tract .

. ... the gladiators stare hinges, crooking with a torrid tilt. ' how's the weather up there'. that was the query. not what you would like to drink. at a bar. where it's known to serve drinks. but the weather, yes, that was the clear question here. .. impactor does not consider himself a fan

. 💭 guzzle .

Poolside snacks for Ume, our endangered tapir calf, to make swim time a little more tempting!

. ..' oh unicron. he's going to Pinch Me . ' .. the gladiator watches the trembling mess somehow manage to go through with the fool's errand. only knowing he got pinched because he saw it happen. he didn't seem to feel it happen. yellow eyes lined with purple slant happy now ? boo. he's real .

⠀ TOP 50 ANIME DEATHS . . . startin’ at fiftah . . . swerve . . . ⠀

. @metallurges.bsky.social the gladiator let's his harpoon trail against the wall while he walks, helm held down as if bearing a heavy burden, as if ready for a bullet to the back of his bruised up brain . he moves a seat away with his body, preferring to stand at the bar .

GRUG SHIT .

WAKE ME WHEN THE BELL RINGS .