Let’s Start Posting Some Of My G1 Works, Starting With Powermaster Optimus Prime, Not Quite Super Ginrai

Dont worry Screamer you've got the legs🥰

saw this template on a different post and had a vision

[Science AU] Red Alert and First Aid's passionate karaoke night

Here’s their karaoke playlist

Ratchet was requested to read human's slangs

Couldn't be Screamer if he ain't a schemer ❤️🩶🖤

Scheming

We love dadwave

A single father

Shamelessly plugging my own OC here... trying to get some semblance of my shit together with this blog so I can use it to engage with other blogs. Eventually will have art and details up, but for now starting with a good old fashion origin story.

Countless optics slid over her as she passed by, some gazes fleeting, others not. Those that lingered were assessing, measuring, judging. She kept her helm tucked low, expression giving nothing away but the appearance of calm. Paying them no mind, she cut her way through the swath of patrons that occupied the Grand Salon, noting they seemed busier than usual. Others like her milled expertly, Keepers directing guests according to their desired experiences. Larger parties were ushered into separate parlors for entertainment, and couples or smaller groups toward the upper floors where the private rooms were situated.

She entered a lift, along with a cluster of others, noticing the mech to her right seemed rather interested in her status. The patches adoring his glossy pauldron suggested a high-ranking Elite Guard. Turning in a tight circle as she moved to face the door, she ensured her servos – both closed into neat fists behind her back – would be visible to him. Noting this, he glanced away, expression momentarily displaying his disappointment until the pretty little mech already hanging off his side snagged his attentions once more.

Her own optics swept the crowd below as the pod ascended, tracing the slim fingers of golden light that spilled through high, towering windows. The floor, a complex mosaic of reflective slabs, cast the sun’s rays into every corner of the vaulted room, where it caught against the intricate detailing that accented columns and framed doorways, making them gleam. She glanced down at the fragile metal mesh draped over her. The delicate crystals fixed into the garment were made to catch that same light with every subtle, tinkling shift, sending a myriad of colored pinpricks dancing across nearby surfaces. A deliberate addition, to snare the attention and interest of their clients.

Exiting the lift on one of the upper floors, she pressed on in silence, husky promises and tittering laughter falling away as – pair by pair – the others branched off into their own rooms.

The final stretch of hallway was mercifully empty, and she slowed her pace, savoring every moment of peace - of solitude - as she closed the distance between herself and the room at the end of the corridor, where her client awaited. The soft, tinny clack of her heel struts against the tile echoed faintly, their frequency and tone reminiscent of a death knell. Fitting, as these walks always felt a little like an execution march.

She paused a moment at the door, glancing up to catch her reflection in the polished metal as she lifted a servo to knock. A vision of perfect contentedness… but inside… a yawning, empty chasm that longed to be filled. Her spark was a restless thing in her chassis, always hungry. Desperately so. Why? She had everything she needed; much more than so many others, as the Masters liked to remind them. Draped in the most luxurious finery, surrounded by opulence… attending lords, council members, and bots from walks of life that most could only dream of meeting. So why didn’t she want any of it? Was she flawed? Was there anything that could satiate the desperate, aching need for something she couldn’t name that chiseled away at her?

She closed her optics, silencing the riot in her processor and composing herself as she allowed her digits to rap gently but crisply against the ornate slab. A voice, soft and low, bid her enter.

“This is all I need,” she told herself – the lie cold and bitter on her glossa.

A - Z Megatron X Reader

Rating: Mature

Warnings: violence and death, cult-like mentality

Megatron/Reader (You) in which you are a zealous follower at the dawn of the war

F is for Fanatic

“This is madness!”

Your narrowed optics observe the old bot as he is restrained, hoisted upright to stand on trembling limbs. Members of his guard, those who remained alive, protested the rough handling through their muzzles. The one at your pedes attempted to rise, but you pulled him back down to the ground, glowering at him in warning.

“You call this madness… I call it justice.”

The room stilled at the deep utterance, the entrance of the Decepticon figurehead seeming to stop time. Unhurried steps carried him through the wreckage of what was once the doorway, across the glossy tiled floor until he towered over the detained mech.

“The masses will not stand for this attack,” came his somber reply.

“We are the masses,” Megatron bit out, fanged grin punctuating the statement. “We are the righteous, once chained by your ambitions, but no more. You will bear the culmination of our wrath.”

The weathered official shook his helm, the cables that framed his faceplate swaying as he insisted, “The Council has agreed that the castes be disbanded. Is this not what you want?! The Prime will-”

“The Prime,” he interrupted, reaching out to clamp his talons over the old bot’s mouth, “does not speak for us. He has never lived as we have, never suffered at the servos of the Council. If you truly thought, Ambassador, that we would be satisfied with such a representative, you are a fool.”

You snarled in agreement, ramming your blaster into the helm of the mech at your pedes.

Megatron releasied the envoy, turning as he began to circle the room. He addressed his followers. “From the beginning, they've treated us as though we are nothing. It is the wreckage of our bodies that feeds their machine, our energon that fuels this planet.”

His every step is measured, towering frame casting its shadow upon all as he passes by. “And peace… peace is what they offer to appease us when we finally come to collect. An insincere apology for the horrors we’ve endured.”

He stops before you, and elation dances along your circuits as your gaze meets his. “What say you to that? Do you want their peace?”

“No!” the word all but leaps from your vocalizer, echoed by the thunderous cry of your brethren.

The silver titan turned to face the subdued old mech yet again, claws splayed at the demonstration. “And there you have it. We will take what is owed to us. And it starts with you.”

Pulling himself into as straight a pose as his aged frame could manage, he accused, “You are no savior, Megatron. You are nothing but a criminal. You claim to want to free your people, but the tyranny you offer in place of the caste system is no different.”

His laughter was deep, slow as he approached his prisoner, talons sliding into a fist as he unsheathed the blade from his gauntlet. “My tyranny, as you call it, will shape this world into greatness. A world in which all bots have the freedom to choose. I have plucked us from the cesspit of despair we have been forced to toil in. I have opened the optics of this planet’s inhabitants to the corruption of the High Council and the upper castes. Decadent, gluttonous vermin leeching profit from our suffering. There is only one way this can end. We take what we are owed and shatter every remnant of the old ways. Either you stand with us to realize this vision, or…” he drawled, lifting the weapon to rest upon his enemy’s shoulder plating. “You stand in our way.”

He took a moment to look around at the subdued guards. “The choice is yours now. Stand with us to dismantle the system of oppression that has gripped Cybertron for too long…. or face your end here and now.”

When no one responded, the large mech took a sweeping glance at his followers, nodding once. Blaster charging, you pressed it into the base of your captive’s helm, awaiting the final call. Righteous anger barreled through your lines. How they could continue to stand with these… monsters, after everything they were responsible for?! How could they not see the depravity of their world as it was? How desperately they needed to be cleansed. And cleanse them you would. This entire, filthy planet would be delivered from its wrongdoings by the only mech who was fit to rule it. You watched with mounting anticipation as your master lifted his blade.

“Decepticons, our time is now!”

His cut was clean and precise, and the Ambassador’s lifeless husk was dropped unceremoniously to the ground. The outraged cries of his guard were silenced shortly after with a barrage of gunfire. You smiled down at the smoking hole in the back of your captive’s helm before curling your servo into a fist and lifting it into the air.

“All hail Megatron!”

Cybertron…before the war…

((War for Cybertron Concept Art))

WHAT?!?! THANKYEWTHANKYEWTHANKYEW

So I'm working on a SMALL SIMPLE erotic Transformers x Human visual novel game

The gist of it is based on an art series I've been making and posting on my Patreon called The Aphrodite Collection.

The Aphrodite Collection is based on an au I came up with for the Patreon. All the pieces take place in a fancy brothel on Cybertron (ethically run, WITH the enthusiastic consent of all the workers involved uwu), where Cybertronians can indulge their curiosities about humans.

The brothel is called Aphrodite's.

AND it's owned by the Botmommy herself, Wyatt!

What's the aesthetic of the brothel, you might ask?

You can explore that HERE!

The game will allow you to pick any Transformer you'd like as your client(s) and indulge their erotic fantasies uwu.

Like I said, keeping the goal to be a very small project for the time being--something I can finish in like a month, with updates later in the future depending on how popular it gets and how much funding my patreon gets--which would allow me to spend more time on it.

Patrons in the 5$ and up tiers will get access to betas of the game and be able to give feedback as I develop it, etc.

Here's some of the base ideas that I'm already working on implementing first:

Ratchet (TFP version) is basically the brothel's in-house obgyn lol. But you can also fuck him! Knockout is the stylist. You can bang him too lol. Pretty much all the staff NPCs, including Wyatt, will be bangable. Idk man, times are tough and I think we all deserve something nice I guess. The finished version will be downloadable for everyone with a 'pay what you want' donation to avoid any legal trouble lmao. But if you'd like to support the project and get sneak peaks during development, you can throw $5 a month my way via the PATREON.

Team Prime bebes...

A quick fanfic art cover for my story : And then there were four. Older Jack, Miko, Raf, and newest addition Theresa.

Its total crack, no seriousness involved whatsoever. But if you're into such ridiculousness, you should check it out. My handle on AO3 is ChaoticReverie