This Is Amazing.

Gettin back to titanomachy, finally updated Dino mode and worked out all kinks to the transformation :)

Check out more at:

http://tgping.deviantart.com/

Part 3🩶🥀

Cables taught, she bowed herself into a tempting pose, helm tipped back, optics shut, mouth agape, creating the illusion of pleasure, a beautiful picture painted for her onlookers. Her frame spun in lazy, controlled circles, allowing everyone in the room a chance to see her. She twisted, artfully bending, placing limbs in ways that were not possible for most Cybertronian frames. But she was unlike them. Cold forged, altered, built specifically by the Masters to perform feats of enticement and pleasure not attainable anywhere else. It was a cruel existence, to be placed upon a pedestal as some beautiful thing, to have no say in who used you or how you were used. To know your life was always in the servos of those willing to pay the most. And not all of them were kind. Most were entitled, corrupt, careless, and violent… it was why appearances were so very important. This game was one of wits, persuasion, and desirability, and she played the game well.

Retracting the lines, she rose higher, weaving her legs through the cables and balancing herself inverted as she parted them, an impressive and lurid display that prompted several cheers. Her dance was a deadly one, the danger creating more intrigue than beauty alone ever could. Every move was calculated not only to entice her audience, but to ensure her safety. One wrong turn, even a nano-klik too late, could result in her frame ending up a battered wreckage upon the stage. And – if the damage was extensive enough – that would be the end of her. She was an object, after all, and should they decide she was not worth the investment to repair, she would be discarded, like so many before her, and another would take her place just as easily. She catches the optics of a mech she is familiar with, one who – while old and entitled and dreadfully pompous – was gentle. Or perhaps it was that he didn’t physically have it in him to be violent anymore. He looked as though a stiff wind might knock him off his pedes. Regardless of the reason, if she could entice him to bid, at least she could walk away from this encounter unscathed. The scarlet femme made certain to keep his gaze for a time before glancing past him, knowing the attention would please him. Luck was on her side this night. Many in attendance were regulars, with only a few new faces. While she could not yet be certain if any of them possessed the wealth to outbid him, the odds were favorable. Her best bet was to play the part she knew he liked, and hope his was the winning offer. Lowering herself to the stage, she unwound her cables from the beams above, drawing them back with a snap of her wrists. She spun slowly, kneeling as she did so until she came to rest on the cool tile, helm against the floor while the rest of her arched invitingly. Suggestively. Again, a round of approving cheers. Without making it appear she was favoring him, she moved to and fro, casting little looks at him whenever an opportunity arose. He hadn’t looked away, his expression intent, and she felt triumph unfurl in her spark. This appointment would belong to him, and she would live to see another sunrise. The dark, bitter part of her that had festered over so many millennia in such a cold and inhospitable environment delighted at knowing how many bots would walk away from this place with empty servos. Some would find company elsewhere, but many would leave to nurse their battered pride. It gave her a petty kind of joy to know they all wanted her, and only one would succeed in having her. The assortment offered at The Spire was carefully curated to meet every need imaginable, and of the variety of treasures to choose from, she was among the most sought after. Not because of her beauty, no – they were all lovely. Nor was it her aerial prowess or her dancing. She had learned long ago that the most valuable skill for any courtesan to have was the ability to read their patrons. And so she watched, learned, honing her craft. Clients, Masters, Keepers, even her peers, all of them became as easy to decipher as glyphs on a datapad. She recognized patterns in speech, body language, and actions, hearing the words between the words and recognize everything left unsaid. It was a skill she had mastered long ago, and she used it with the same painstaking precision as she used her grappling lines. When your life depended on pleasing those around you, knowing how to speak and how to act in times of intimacy (and otherwise) was the most valuable tool one could possess. It had made her into an optimal companion and had served her well for many orbital cycles, allowing her to keep herself – and those she cared about – alive. And she would continue to ply her skills for as long as she needed to, filing away whatever information she thought might be of use. Somehow, she would find a way to use those same skills to take her and her lover out of this place and make a better life for them. Until that time came, she waited, watched, and played the perfect part.

I dunno if it's just me but any time Megan puts hands on hips I am puddle... why it so good?

Megatron looks both intimidating and funny with his hands on his hips.

...... is...... is it his ass?

Wanted to do another DS-style render since it's been a long time since I last did one. So I recreated a scene from Shadow Generations with Optimus Prime and Megatron.

Models are from the Transformers Prime DS game. Rendered in Blender 3.6.17 with the Eevee renderer.

Full-resolution/textless version + the scene it's based on under the cut!

【click the pic】

still thinking about soundwave face and trying to figure things out bc im.nuts??? ur silent intimidating spymaster making these faces under the mask like just think about it

Part 10🥀🩶

FINALLY!! Blessed day! OC origin story finished in full... now to link them all together and move on to other things...

She stared up at the gilded tower, the structure a perfect representation of their society’s upper castes. It’s shining walls hid the rot within, greed and excess, cruelty and corruption… and the laboring functions bore the brunt of it all. Hate coiled in her like the serpent she had named herself for.

Sun having set, the night offered her additional cover as she breached the outside wall and advanced on the main building. The blades in her arms – having replaced the grapnels – were equally as useful in helping her maneuver quickly and accurately. With a few well placed shots she had scaled the tower, gripping the ledge of the same window she had used to escape this place. It wasn’t necessary, but she felt there was a symbolism to entering once again through the place from which she’d left.

The room was occupied, judging from the sounds coming from within. Slowly, carefully, she pulled herself up onto the sill, optics fixed on the pair draped across the berth. Her steps were measured, soft, making hardly a sound as she closed in. She did not recognize the patron. A broad mech, though not a member of the Guard. His plating was too thin for that, more for aesthetics than actual protection. How very ideal. Nearly upon them, she struck, unsheathing the blade from her wrist and driving it into the vulnerable spot next to his back strut. The keen edge slid through him with hardly any resistance, into the cavity in his chassis where his spark was housed. He hadn’t even had time to cry out in pain, offlining almost instantly. The mech beneath him, however, shouted in alarm.

Reaching out, she clamped her servo around his chin, hushing him. He seemed to recognize her after a moment, quieting.

“Tonight you are free. Take what you can and leave this place,” she instructed him, releasing him only when he gave her a curt nod, fear still evident in his optics. She rose from the berth, wasting no time in moving on to her next target.

There was no security in the halls, nor had there been any on the perimeter of the building. The Decepticon uprising had bred an army, and with the looming threat came a rise in demand for those to stand against them. Anyone who had even minimal combat experience had been drafted, which meant places like this – places that were unlikely to be targeted for attack – were left delightfully unguarded.

None would be spared from her wrath this night.

...//♡//…

Energon painted nearly every centihic of her frame, her pedes leaving prints against the tile as she stalked across the room. A part of her had hoped she would find the piece of slag who had stolen her lover away, but he was of course absent, likely on the front lines. She sneered. His end would have been one to savor. For now, this would have to suffice.

The old mech crawled away from her as fast as he was able… which wasn’t very fast at all considering she’d removed his legs. Grand Master of the Spire, the decrepit wretch who had placed the order to dispose of her beloved Star and then chastise her for daring to grieve. The one responsible for all of their pain and suffering. She had saved the best for last.

“You won’t get away with this! You’ll be apprehended, and the High Council will throw your useless frame into a cell to rust!” he hissed at her,

She continued to close in on him, unhurried, amused, and as she drew nearer his brave facade slipped away, fear taking its place. He tried a different approach.

“This… isn’t what you were meant for. I molded you as an artist does! With painstaking care and precision!”

At this point he had backed himself against a wall, and she knelt down to address him, her smile widening into something sinister.

“Care? Come now… you never cared for us. You only cared that we made you wealthy. As soon as we were no longer of use to you, you threw us away… like scrap. That’s not how an artist treats their work.”

The blade slid slowly from its sheath, singing faintly as it did. He cringed a the sight. Realizing there was no reasoning with her, his demeanor shifted again. Perhaps he thought to hurt her one last time.

“This won’t change anything. It won’t bring her back!”

The blade was against his throat cables in an instant, her face so close to his he could feel the heat radiating from her.

“This changes everything. This is the beginning of the end for bots like you. I might not get her back, but I can do everything in my power to ensure that others like us won’t have to live in fear anymore.”

Her glossa slipped from her intake, tracing a line of energon up the side of his face.

“And besides… this is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

He vented sharply, optics narrowing into pinpricks. “You’re a monster.”

“Yes… I am.”

Her one servo stayed raised, blade poised at his throat to keep him from moving, and the other slid up his chassis to the Crest of his House emblazoned so proudly above his spark. Her talons flexed outward, hooking securely along the edges of the raised plate before tearing it away. He cried out as she did so, and pleasure slid through her lines at the sound. The pads of her digits pressed into the small hollow she’d just created, feeling the softer metal beneath. Again she crooked her claws, piercing, pulling. This time, the sound that escaped him was ragged and agonized, rattling in his vocalizer. She grit her denta together as she savored his pleas.

Time slipped away as she pried him open bit by bit, his feeble attempts to stop her growing weaker and weaker as she rent him apart. Once the sounds of his protesting had stopped, it was only the squelch of energon and the snap of wires that filled the space between them.

Finally, once she’d had her fill, she pulled his mangled corpse to the front gate. There, she strung him up like a puppet over one side of the door, suspended by his own fuel lines. With the little energon he had left in him, she smeared a message on the opposing slab.

Rise Up.

Stepping back, she took in the sight of him one final time before turning and making her way across the courtyard to the outer wall. There was still much work to be done.

My GURL!! I luv this silly birb.

Despite being named for a snake, Naja's character design was actually based on a harpy eagle (with the exception of the very long, split tongue - that was a snake indulgence).

Harpy's are so emotive. I love their crest and the way they move it around depending on their mood. And the TALONS! I see a lot of Cons with claws, but not a lot with talons, so I wanted to sneak those in there.

MUNDAY  ASKS !

🌈 — name(s) & pronouns 🎈 — gender and/or sexuality 🎂 — age and/or birthday 🕗 — time zone 💕 — single or taken? ⭐️ — sun, moon, & rising signs, if known 💭 — MBTI and/or enneagram, if known ❓ — three adjectives that describe you ❤️ — what are some of your best qualities? 💔 — what are some of your worst qualities? ✨ — what would you change about yourself, if anything? 💘 — what and/or who do you consider near and dear to you? 🚗 — what vehicle(s) do you drive? ✈️ — ever traveled anywhere interesting? ⌨️ — what operating system(s) do you use? 📱 — mobile or desktop version of tumblr? 🖥 — favorite platform besides tumblr? 🎮 — favorite video game(s)? 🖱 — any cool devices/tool(s) of the trade? (i.e. type of mouse, monitor, keyboard, tablet, etc) 💍 — any piercings? 💎 — want any (more) piercings? 🖊 — any tattoos? 🔏 — want any (more) tattoos? 🎄 — favorite holiday(s)? 🍝 — favorite food(s)? 🍦 — favorite ice cream flavor(s)? 🍰 — favorite sweet(s)/dessert(s)? 🐶 — any pets? 😍 — celebrity crush(es)? 😊 — any career desires? 📚 — if you’re in college, what’s your level (undergrad, grad, phd, etc) and/or degree program? 😖 — what annoys you? 🎶 — favorite song at the moment? 📕 — favorite book/series? 🧶 — any non-writing hobbies/interests? 📺 — favorite movie(s) and/or tv show(s)? 📇 — does your url have a meaning? if so, what is it? ✏️ — how long have you been roleplaying on tumblr? ✍️ — what other platforms have you roleplayed on? 🗒 — what is/are your favorite genre(s)/theme(s) to write? 🤔 — what genre(s)/theme(s) do you struggle to write the most? 😁 — what’s your favorite part about being part of the rpc? 😤 — what do you dislike the most about being part of the rpc? 💻 — how many friends have you made in the rpc? feel free to tag a few of them! 🎧 — do you write while listening to music/podcasts/videos/etc, or do you need total silence? 🤗 — are there any rpc mutuals that you’d like to meet irl? 😀 — are there any rpc mutuals that you’ve met irl before? 💖 — what was one of the greatest/happiest moments you’ve had in the rpc? 🖤 — what was one of the worst/most depressing moments you’ve had in the rpc? 😳 — what was your most embarrassing moment in the rpc? 🎁 — what have you accomplished in the rpc that you’re proud of? 🫂 — how many friends are in your irl friend group(s)? 🎉 — what are some of your favorite things to do with your irl friends? 😗 — what are some of your favorite things to do when you have some time to yourself? 💯 — share three random facts about yourself that your mutuals may not know about you.

I am forever saddened that Ravage didn't make it onto TFP.

Not only would they have been a terrifying menace in action, they could have provided some amazingly hilarious scenes during down time on the Nemesis. After all a cat is a cat, regardless of size. I can only imagine the chaos... most of which I imagine would have been tolerated, since yknow... Soundwave...