Transformers Oc - Blog Posts

// indi ♡ semi-selective ♡ rp blog ft OC Naja //

---

BLOG DETAILS //♡//

This is a sideblog; you will be followed back by @gutter-bot

Minors DNI - this blog will cover adult topics including but not limited to substance abuse, trauma, death, violence, sexual content, kinks, suicidal thoughts, mental health

I try to be consistent with posting/replies, but there will be periods of low activity from time to time - I will try to post updates in the event that I will be less active

My OC exists within/was created for the TF Aligned universe, but I am open to cross-continuity shipping, along with poly-shipping

I am open to shipping Naja with a variety of muses, though interactions will be based on chemistry - my DMs are open to discuss

More below the cut...

ABOUT THE MUSE //♡//

OVERVIEW

Designation: Naja (pronounced na•yuh)

Gender: Gender fluid

Pronouns: All are accurate, though typically she/her (see additional notes for further explanation)

Height: 6.5 meters/21 feet - also 7.5 meters/25 feet (see notes)

Colouration: Scarlet and maroon mainly, with multiple grey undertones and silver accents

Frametype: Dual frametype - femme and mech (see notes)

Alt mode: None currently

Occupation prior to war: Courtesan

Affiliation: Decepticon

Weapons: Arm mounted (detachable) dual blades, grappling wire, talons, retractable blades in heel struts

Strengths: Speed, flexibility, precision, close and mid range attacks

Weaknesses: Defense - heavy armor sacrificed for maneuverability, long range attacks, smaller stature - physical strength limited

Positive traits: Loyal, observant, clever, determined, adaptable, curious, flirtatious/playful

Negative traits: Self indulgent, stubborn, impulsive (at times), self-destructive/reckless, flirtatious (with enemies - she'll still try to kill them, but first she wants to see how riled she can make them)

-> A more detailed look at her background can be found here.

ADDITIONAL NOTES AND QUIRKS //♡//

All courtesans were cold forged and given a dual frametype (along with a host of other specific modifications). Naja can shift between femme and mech frametypes at will, though favors the former - a strategic choice. Her enemies don’t take her as seriously when she's smaller... the last mistake they ever make.

Naja values her beauty, but isn't vain. She was ultimately indifferent about her appearance prior to the war, but has found it a useful tool in misleading her opponents at times.

She has never taken an alt mode. Due to her function she was never expected to leave the brothel where she was created, and as such was not allowed to possess a means of transport. Now, she has concerns that any additional structures may impede her maneuverability - a key strength in her aerial/grappling fighting style. Unless Megatron orders her to choose one, she likely never will.

Her time as a courtesan provided her the unique opportunity to master the skill of observation. While she has nowhere near the monitoring network the Decepticon CSO has, her ability to read bots is uncanny. She doesn't need footage to decipher social interactions; even the most minute physical cues can give someone away. She hears the words left unspoken, piecing together motives and secret meanings, detecting lies and disingenuous behavior. It is perhaps one of her greatest strengths.

Having spent her life pre-war serving others, Naja has since become a creature of indulgence, luxuriating in every opportunity to pursue her own desires. Depending on her mood - and the company - those can range from pleasurable to downright sadistic.

She carries a lot of guilt in her, blaming herself for her lover's demise. To counter this, she will at times turn to substance abuse as a distraction. If she has nothing available to her, she will manipulate others into punishing her (misbehaving so she will receive a beating, encouraging rough interface, etc).

She is considered a hypersexual individual, though whether it has more to do with the unnatural nature of her forging or it's a type of trauma response she isn't willing to look into she isn't certain.

Music is very precious to her (it reminds her of her former lover).

She is fascinated by the flora and fauna on Earth (yes even humans), as so many of them resemble the species from back home. It is not unusual for her to attempt sneaking a 'pet' on board the Nemesis... but she always gets caught.

RULES & GUIDELINES //♡//

Please be respectful. No form of bullying will be tolerated.

Do not thread hop/self insert into an ongoing rp without discussion.

Paragraph style roleplay is my preferred method.

Please reach out through DMs to discuss/plot out rp ideas. Other interactions such as ask prompts are open to all and do not require pre planning at this point. Keep in mind some of these responses will be singular (not ongoing).

Naja is a Decepticon, and has a traumatic past, therefore role-playing with her will cover dark themes. If you are not comfortable with this, we are likely not compatible.

You DO NOT have to rp with me to exist in my space. Tagging, chatting, etc is still very welcome.

-- //♡// --

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.

Part 9 🥀🩶

Sweet baby Jesus only one more to go!! And then I PROMISE I will get to that KOBD drabble request 😭🙏

While she didn’t know much about the world outside of the brothel, there were two things she was certain of.

Firstly, she was a fugitive, and given the level of her crime, she knew they would send the Guard out to search for her. She would have to be cautious and alert at all times.

Secondly, while the grappling cables in her arms had allowed her to escape and offered her a quick and efficient means to get around, they were not weapons. She needed to find a way to arm herself if she planned on exacting revenge against those who had wronged her and her beloved.

So she kept to the shadows, listening, searching for word of the resistance and any potential allies that might aid her. It had taken her several deca-cycles to pick up on a single lead, and another several to find the bot in question. As she stood staring at the nondescript unit that matched the address she’d been given, she felt her spark flutter nervously.

Ex-venting, she glanced up the street discretely to see if anyone was watching her, and with a casual grace that belied the tumultuous storm of emotions she was experiencing, strolled toward her destination. Stepping into the shop, she paused to look around, noting the variety of work displayed along the walls. Near a desk, standing in stark contrast to much of the other pieces, was a form - fitted with intricate armor plating. She recognized the coloration and style instantly. This had been commissioned by a member of the Elite Guard. It would seem she had come to the right place.

“Can I help you?”

Turning away from the display, she replied, “I hope so. I’m looking for weapons.”

He gave her a once over, optic ridges raising in surprise. “You uhh… with the Council? Their order isn’t quite ready, but should be within the next few orns.”

She gave a small, pointed smile. “No… not the Council. I’ve been told you cater to… other clientele as well.”

He froze, servos dropping from his hips slowly. His expression wavered, and he stepped closer to the desk. His lower half was hidden, and she would bet just about anything he was currently reaching for a weapon of his own.

“Not sure whatcha mean, stranger,” he replied, the tightness in his tone not unnoticed to her. “My priority is the Guard. Anything outside of that will have to wait.”

She kept her servos open and visible, not wanting to give him cause for alarm. The fact that he was wary confirmed he was exactly the bot she was looking for. Based on what she’d been told, he operated as an industrial machinist before Kaon was captured by Decepticon forces. The same armory that supplied the gladiators with their resources had also forged much of the Elite Guard’s weaponry, and without access to it, they had been forced to source elsewhere. Which of course meant bullying local businesses into working almost exclusively for them, under fear of pain should they refuse. Some bots hadn’t been too fond of the treatment and harassment they received.

“I’ve been told you make exceptions… in the event that I provide you with this,” she continued, slowly reaching into her subspace and producing a single shanix, the glyph for the number thirteen carved crudely into one side. She placed it on the desk between them.

He stared down at it, his posture instantly relaxing. Then he glanced back up at her, optic ridges furrowing. “Hope you can excuse the defensiveness, I’m under near constant surveillance.”

Tipping her helm in understanding, she acknowledged, “It’s to be expected.”

“So… weapons, hm?”

Not willing to divulge too much, she chose a more vague approach. “I would like to join the fight, but am woefully unprepared to do so. I can’t linger too long.”

If there was one thing she had learned from her time in the brothel that seemed to ring true everywhere, it was that some bots were willing to pay just about anything to have a night (or two) with someone like her. She hoped he was one such bot. He was attractive, in a rough kind of way, something she didn’t get to experience much while locked away in that Pit-foresaken place. She was intrigued.

“I don’t have much in the way of wealth. You’re welcome to the meager shanix I’ve been able to procure, but I do have… other means of paying you for your work.”

He almost seemed startled by the request, the vents framing his face suddenly aglow. Recovering relatively quickly, he laughed, a low, pleasant sound. “There’s no need for that. I make sure to overcharge those uppity fraggers as much as possible for all the grief they cause. Which means any special work I do is covered, unwitting compliments of the High Council.”

The mech turned from the desk and reached for the console on the wall, pressing in the sequence to lock the front doors. Wouldn’t do for the wrong bot to walk in and find him out. As he did so, he threw over his shoulder offhandedly, “Besides… yer not quite my type.”

Her derma flashed, pleasant smile turning devious. She had suspected as much. “Oh?”

Plating shifted apart, components rearranging as her frame expanded.

“Not to offend, yer certainly easy on the optics, but I think I-”

The words fizzled out in his vocalizer as he turned back to address her again… only to find a mech standing in her place. The bot shared certain features (along with the color scheme), but was otherwise taller and broader in frame, nearly matching him in size. “Primus… what-?”

“If you won't accept payment for your services...”

The bot’s voice was mildly shocking, several octaves deeper, and as he moved around the counter the shop keeper felt his spark seize a little, spike stirring to life. Reaching out, the mech grasped his chin in a broad servo and leaned forward until their lip components were nearly touching. 

“...you can consider this a tip, then.”

.../♡/...

“The quality of your work really is as good as they said it would be,” she observed as she studied her new, reinforced plating. He had an optic for details, each addition blending seamlessly. The metal, while thin enough so as not to be bulky, was strong, tempered and molded to perfection.

“Thanks. So, uhh… what’s your designation?”

The machinist’s inquiry gave her pause. No one had ever asked her for a name. She had never been given one. A courtesan had no need for it, after all… they were objects.

‘Maybe it’s time I took a designation for myself,’ she considered. Megatron had… yet… what would she call herself?

'My Scarlet Flower.'

Any version of the pet name given to her by her lover seemed inappropriate, and truth be told… didn’t feel quite right. At least not anymore. That part of herself - the soft, delicate part - had perished, along with the lovely white femme who had held her spark. She was determined to become something frightful, some dreaded entity … her designation ought to reflect that.

A memory flickered through her processor, of vicious fangs striking with unparalleled precision. Of course…

“Naja,”

“Naja?” he repeated.

The Spire had earned it’s reputation as a luxury establishment for many reasons. Their selection of courtesans was second to none, each hand forged and carefully trained to provide the ultimate experience in indulgence. Yet they were not the only menagerie housed within the glittering tower; a variety of exotic wildlife was kept there as well, for no reason other than novelty and rarity. They relied on a great number of suppliers to bring in new and interesting specimens, and on one such occasion, a collection of beautiful razor-snakes had been brought in for their consideration. The carrier had handled them with such confidence, displaying each one and describing their subclass and toxicity to the patrons present – and their accompanying courtesans. He'd assured the guests and Masters the beasts had all been de-fanged, and were safe handle. Apparently, they had missed a snake. The largest of the lot, a great shimmering thing with a flared hood that framed its angular face. The supplier had reached for her, and in a motion so fast none of them had perceived it, she struck him in the face, fangs sinking deep and injecting him full of corrosive acid. Within a matter of nano-kliks half of his helm was missing, sloughing off in a puddle of bubbling metal.

The memory had always stuck with her, not because she’d been afraid, but because she recalled how very beautiful the creature was, making it deceptive in it’s capacity to harm. Nodding to herself more than anyone else, she repeated the word again, testing it, enjoying the way it sounded.

“Yes… Naja.”

Stepping toward the door, she glanced over her newly armored shoulder. “It’s been fun.”

The sentence was said in his voice, and the machinist stammered a little, nodding and waving her off.

Exiting, she took to a narrow lane after ensuring the coast was clear, glancing down at her servos. More specifically, the gleaming, hooked talons that tipped them. An addition he had suggested. She crooked her digits, grinning when they extended before retracting once again. Made to snag, carve, rend. With these, along with the thin blades he’d outfitted her with, she could begin cutting her path through the corrupt upper castes. Vengeance was within reach, but before she could return to The Spire, she needed practice…

A newly sparked predator honed their skills hunting glitch-mice long before taking down larger game.

Ahead of her, further down the lane she was traversing, she watched as a group of laborers worked diligently on the construction of a new building, bustling without pause from one job to another. A snide looking femme with a distinct badge affixed to her arm - identifying her as an architect - moved about the site, pointing and shouting, speaking down to the laborers and even striking one. They all looked at her with a bitter fear in their optics, but did as she bid them, clearly aware that they would be further punished should they speak up against the higher ranking bot

What a perfect place to start...

Part 6🥀🩶

Two orns now, and not a single glimpse of her. It was a long stretch to go without contact, even if that contact was as fleeting as a discrete brush when they passed in the halls. She wasn’t still with the same client? It wasn’t unheard of… but it wasn’t common for a patron to stay for such a long time.

She considered her options, how she might find a way to inquire about her lover’s location without giving anything away. Recollections of her encounter with the young mech from Vos flickered through her processor.

“I think I’d like to meet her.”

A pleased smile curved her lip components for a nano-klik before disappearing, and she made her way toward the Grand Salon, steps even and measured. Bypassing the guests and other courtesans, she maneuvered to the head of the room, where one of the Keepers stood monitoring activity.

Pausing when she reached the dias, she stood quietly until she was acknowledged. Seeing the slim mech wave a servo in her direction, she tipped into a slight bow. Head down, she inquired softly, “Greetings, Keeper Accelera. Might I have a moment?”

“What is it?”

“I have a patron who expressed interest in the femme who last performed at the Inner Theatre. When is her next available appointment?”

"That one is no longer available. Tell your client to see me and I will offer them similar alternatives.”

…

…

…

What?

Everything else fell away, her spark stuttering in her chassis at the implication in those words – said so flippantly. No longer available. The phrase used by Masters and Keepers when a courtesan was scrapped, but that wasn’t - it couldn’t… no.

No.

How?!

No! No! NO!!

From the corner of her optics, she saw the Keeper glance at her expectantly, and she forced herself to mutter a brief acknowledging response before turning away and striding from the room. She sought an empty lift, refusing to meet the gaze of any she passed. Her servos balled into tight, trembling fists behind her back, her stance wavering as she rode the pod to the upper floors. Once there, she identified a vacant room and slipped inside unnoticed, closing the door softly and pressing her forehead against the smooth metal. The rooms here were built to offer privacy, dampening almost all sound from within.

A sharp, keening wail escaped her as she sunk to the floor, helm shaking in denial.

Images of her lover’s smiling countenance as she looped her arm through that fuming guard’s own came back to her. Him. He had done this.

The anger was quickly swallowed up by guilt. She… had let it happen. She should have been the one to serve him that night. But her Star had stepped in… volunteered.

‘I never should have allowed it. This… is my doing.’

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. They were supposed to escape this nightmarish place… find happiness together. She was a sweet, gentle spark, without an ounce of bitterness in her. She, above all others, had deserved happiness. Instead, she had met an ignoble end in this wretched place, her last moments spent alone, afraid, in pain. And they threw her away like scrap, like she was nothing.

She was everything… and now she was gone.

Her arms shook as she struggled to keep herself upright, eventually giving in, collapsing and pulling herself into a shuddering heap. Her outlook on their situation had always been far more pessimistic, but her darling lover had dispelled the darkness with her light. Tucking her chin against her chassis, she closed her optics, feeling the slim hope that had resided in her flicker out of existence.

Part 5🥀🩶

Working the pit broadcasts had always been a tedious affair. The bots in attendance would often partake in engex a little too enthusiastically, becoming raucous beyond what their usual decorum codes allowed. The Masters were inclined to make exceptions during these events, however, as they were immensely lucrative.

Ignoring the urge to groan as she stepped into the server’s station behind the bar, the red femme locked optics with the smaller white bot and shared a knowing smile.

“I can hardly feel my aft anymore. I think I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been grabbed.”

Gold brows tilting playfully, she replied, “The poor thing. I’ll make sure to pay special attention to it once we’re done here.”

While the work was far from pleasant - and the clientele equally abysmal – there was one benefit to being assigned to these fights. All of the attending courtesans and servants were rewarded a recharge slot immediately after, which meant that whenever she and her lover were on the same rotation, they could spend that time together.

The lounge erupted in a chorus of shouts, and both femmes, along with the others who’d been standing in the wings awaiting their cues, peered around the wall that separated them from the rest of the room. The main event was beginning, the participants making their entrances onto the arena floor. The monitor at the far end of the lounge flicked between angles, cycling theough an overhead view, a shot of the packed stadium, before finally zooming in on the gladiators.

“How utterly barbaric,” another courtesan - a slender blue mech – murmured.

She was inclined to agree. The Pit Fights were labeled as ‘entertainment’, but she saw them for what they were. A reminder to the lower castes that they were expendable.

The cheers of the patrons quickly turned sour, some snarling expletives while others merely scowled up at the screens.

“They must not like that one very much,” her lover observed.

The bot in question was one she recognized. He had first appeared some time ago as an underdog - a former miner, she recalled, having heard the chatter at previous events. It was… intriguing to have witnessed the shift in their view of him. There was a brief time, early on, when many of the clients had been fans of his, or rather fans of the funds they made by betting on him. Despite the odds he won, over and over again, and as he gained popularity among the lower castes, his favor in the optics of the higher castes quickly plummeted.

At a table not far from where they were stationed, a particularly loud soldier sneered, “This is it. There’s no way he makes it out of this one!”

“You’ve said that before,” one of his companions drawled, his tone far more controlled.

The other laughed lowly, a malicious sound. “I’ve got it on good authority that the Pit Masters have stacked the match. A lineup no single bot could survive.”

“Awful,” her lover whispered in response.

“It’s their nature,” she reminded her, having grown to expect nothing less from their ilk. The high castes treated those beneath them like objects and tools, made for the sole purpose of their benefit, comfort, and entertainment.

She had seen many of the mech’s matches, not that the fighting had ever truly interested her. His oration skill, however, had caught her off guard and piqued her interest. He had a tendency to speak to the crowd after a victory, his words stirring the flicker of unrest in her spark. He spoke of the undue suffering of his people, and all those who were not so fortunate as to have been designated a higher ‘function’. His insistence that every sentient being ought to have the opportunity to carve their own path struck a chord deep within her, and the feeling had remained ever since, growing steadily with time.

She glanced down at her Star, wondering if her dreams of freedom were really all that unattainable. Glancing back at the monitor, the red femme watched the reigning champion take his position. Prior to this match, she had found amusement in his success, not because she found him amusing – she didn’t pay much attention to the fights themselves – but because he caused such unrest in the higher castes. Watching them unravel was always enjoyable. Tonight, for the first time, it felt important… more meaningful somehow. She cared about his victory.

‘Please… you have to win.’

The fight was a brutal one, and – as the loud soldier from earlier had suggested – certainly seemed as though it was rigged to ensure his loss. Yet despite the impossible odds, he held his own, moving with a speed and grace that belied one of his frame type, pressing on with a ferocity she had never seen before. It was wildly impressive... and inspiring.

Tensions in the lounge were high, patrons nearly silent as the match dragged on. When no one was looking, she grabbed hold of her lover and pulled her back behind the bar, ensuring they were alone.

“What is it? Is everything alright?” the smaller bot asked, gentle servos cradling her waist.

She looked down at the femme who had given her the only joy she knew, tracing the lines of her beautiful countenance with irreverent optics. “We should leave this place.”

The little femme smiled, making to reply.

“No… I mean it.”

“We cannot-”

“Please, just listen. Those mechs at the table, they’re afraid of him. Of what he’s doing. All the higher ups are. They won’t say it, but it tracks in their tone, their posture when they speak of him. I’ve been watching, listening. If this truly becomes the movement they fear it will… we might have a real shot at making a life for ourselves outside of these walls. It may be the only chance we ever get.”

Her lover glanced up at her with worry etched into her features, slim digits tightening on the plates along her backstrut.

“It would be dangerous… to go. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Reaching around, she took up the other’s smaller servos and held them in her own, rubbing comforting circles over the joints. “We’re in danger here… every day. The danger just looks different, it’s not as apparent. My Star… I would never leave without you, so if you want to stay, we stay. Just… please… think about it.”

There was a brief pause, only a handful of nano-kliks, but it felt like a small eternity. Finally, the white femme gave her an answer.

“For you, my Scarlet Flower, I would go to the ends of the universe. Where you go, I follow.”

The kiss was so desperate and abrupt it nearly knocked the pair of them over, but she was able to brace them against the wall, lifting her slender lover off the floor and cradling her against her chassis.

Ex-venting as she willed her spark not to burst with joy, she promised lowly, “I will do everything I can to protect you.”

“We will protect one another,” was her soft reply.

“NO!!”

The livid shout and the sound of a table clattering over brought their shared moment to an abrupt end, and she quickly set the white and gold femme down to see what all the commotion was about.

Several bots were on their pedes, staring at the monitor. On it, the image of an energon soaked arena flickered, and in the middle of it all stood the champion, still undefeated.

“I still function!”

His raspy cry sent the crowd into a frenzy, the deafening applause quieting only when he lifted a servo, signaling he had more to say.

“Let this be a message to those who seek to see my spark snuffed out – those who seek to see all of us defeated. We are the many, and our time has come!”

Again they cheered, and again he brought them to heel with a wave of his servo.

“For too long they have reaped the rewards of our suffering. Without us, they would have nothing. They would be nothing. And when we come together, there is nothing they can do to stop us from claiming everything we are owed. We will have justice! Stand with me! Rise up!”

The cacophony of voices surged in volume, slowly coming together in a chant that filled the stadium, and in turn, the dimly lit lounge.

Megatron! Megatron! Megatron!

The bots in attendance said nothing as they watched the spectacle unfold, and she could practically feel the nervousness radiating from them.

The two femmes, now standing side by side, glanced at one another.

“It’s fragging impossible! No one should have survived that!” the inebriated soldier shouted, looking ready to flip another table. The mech he was with tried in vain to calm him, but he was having none of it, the feeble attempts only serving to fuel his rage.

A Keeper moved to intervene at this point, speaking lowly to him, gesturing in ways that made her nervous. Suddenly her optics cut across the room at them, signaling one of them needed to come and attend their guest.

Frag. There went their evening together. She had to keep a tight hold on her displeasure in that moment, but reminded herself it was a very real possibility that soon they would have all the time in the world with one another.

Her lover’s small servo caught her arm. Glancing down, she lifted a brow in askance.

“Let me take this one. I’ll get him settled.”

“Are you certain. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to be very pleasant company.”

“Undoubtedly, however… I do have a way with the more surly ones,” the white femme teased.

A short chuckle escaped her vocaliser. “Yes, you certainly do. Take care, Star of my Spark. I’ll see you soon.”

My creation!! I think I like this design. I was playing around with a few others but this one feels good.

OC scribbling...

She's so psychotic I love her ❤️✨️

Part 4🥀🩶

The tips of her digits ran along the seams of her client’s plating, noting the spots that made his field shudder. The mech was young (compared to the majority of their clientele), his mannerisms giving him away. He wasn’t nearly as cruel as most of the others… but time would change that. It always did. The politics of the high caste bred corruption, selfishness, entitlement. After being surrounded by it for long enough, they always seemed to adopt the same tendencies.

For now, however, she could savor his inexperience; reduce him to a pliant heap in her servos.

The parlor was filled with a number of patrons and their company, all engaged in varying levels of intimacy. Some were engrossed in their courtesans, and others preferred to watch. An open space for bots with more voyeuristic preferences. The mech who had sought her out seemed intrigued, if not a bit embarrassed. His optics darted around the room, dilating as he took in the lascivious acts on display. Under her wandering digits, his frame tensed.

Above the din of voices, another sound filtered through the room, a high, ethereal melody that rang clear as a bell. She smiled. The bot beneath her took note as well, helm tilting back toward the entrance the music was filtering through.

“Incredible, isn’t she?”

He nodded, seeming transfixed. “Yes… I’ve never heard something so lovely.” Then he came back to himself, suddenly looking rather sheepish. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… you – ah.”

She laughed, a genuine display of amusement for once. “Worry not. You are permitted to peruse the options all you like. It’s why you’re here, after all. To sample the delights of The Spire… and she is quite the delight, let me assure you.”

He grinned, nodding while casting another fleeting look toward the door.

Up the hall, the Inner Theatre would be filled from end to end – it always was when her lover took the stage. A voice like the heavens, enchanting all who had the pleasure to experience her song.

“I think I’d like to meet her,” he murmured.

“And meet her you shall… but not now. She will be indisposed for quite some time once her performance comes to an end.” Reaching forward, the scarlet femme cupped his face, coaxing it back toward hers. “For now… you’re all mine.”

The low, suggestive cadence of her voice made him tremble, and the click and whir of his cooling fans made her lips part in a knowing grin. Lowering her mouth, she sampled the cabling of his neck, noting the way his servos gripped her waist when she dipped her glossa in the joint of his collar. She shuttered her optics, and the image of him fell away, replaced by white and gold, a gaze as blue and vibrant as crystallized energon. Her Shining Star.

Their next meeting couldn’t be soon enough.

OC concept/progress.

Transformers are fuckin hard to draw, man!! My eyeballs are going to shrivel up like raisins from staring at a screen for so long...

OC concept art. Playing around with some color combos and so far this is what we've got.

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.

Part 2 🩶🥀

The Spire’s patron list was extensive and elite, comprised of Cybertron’s most influential and wealthy. Being admitted into the establishment was a status symbol all on it’s own, an accomplishment that few outside of the high castes would ever hope to achieve. Guild members, decorated military officials, and heads of important functions frequented the brothel often, at times bringing with them promising new additions. The Master’s, while enthused by their success, could hardly keep up with the demand this produced, a demand that weighed most heavily on the courtesans. Their schedules were rigid, the Keepers ensuring no time was spent idle. During busy periods, it was not uncommon for them to go several orns without rest, and on minimal refueling. These stretches were nearly unbearable, not for the workload. Rather, it left no opportunity to indulge in more enjoyable activities. Her lover’s soft gasp filled her audials, field shuddering, skating across her own in the most delicious way. “Not too loudly.” A light smack on the arm was her reward for the taunt, vivid cyan optics narrowed accusingly in her direction. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t be so – ah! Insistent!” “But you like it when I’m insistent.” Her lover’s responding hum was light and airy, slim frame lax and pliant against her. The smaller femme tilted her helm back, arching up to press their mouths together in a hungry kiss. It was over all too quickly, and her lip components twisted into a disappointed grimace. “We should go. I have a client coming soon.” Wrapping her arms possessively around the other’s slight waist, she pleaded, “Only a little longer. Who knows when we will get a chance like this again.” “We might get caught.” Defiant, she squeezed harder. “We are made to please, why shouldn’t we chase our own delights?” Her lover’s expression grew wistful, and she turned in her arms to reach up and clasp her face between caressing servos. “You know that’s not how it works. If they find us, we both get punished.” The thought of her gentle lover brought to harm filled her with unease, her spark tightening in her chassis. She covered the smaller servos with her own, tilting her helm to place a kiss against the tips of their digits. “It’s not fair. We should leave… you and I… and never look back. Then no one will keep us apart.” “And where would we go? There is no place for us… no place but here. And here is far better than where we might end up if we tried to flee.” A pause. “It’s not so bad,” the white and gold femme replied, ever the optimist. “After all, our presence here allowed us to find one another.” The unrest in her quieted at the reminder, and she bent down to gently press their foreheads together. “You, Star of my Spark, are the only thing that makes any of this worth enduring.” “Then be patient, my Scarlet Flower. We will have other chances, better chances… where time is on our side.” Venting in defeat, she released the smaller bot, allowing her to step away. “Until then.” “Until then.” She watched as her lover exited the parlor and stepped out into the hall, filled with jealousy at the thought that someone else – some unworthy aristocrat – would get to hold her, touch her. The thought made her tanks churn bitterly. For a moment she stood, waiting, willing away the anger. It would not serve her well. After enough kliks had passed, she too took her leave, glancing up the hall toward the Inner Theatre. Music slipped down the passageway, along with the sounds of approving spectators. Helm tilted down, she placed her servos behind her back, palms open, and made her way toward them.

Drawing robots makes me nervous. They're organic shaped but not, and attempting to make them look semi organic while not overdoing it is terrifying. Drawing hands also makes me nervous. Drawing robot hands makes me super duper extra nervous. How some of yall make it look effortless is mind blowing.

Ugh!

More OC related content.

Hands always scare me so I wanted to get them out of the way... 😭💀

She got them bird talons goin on.........

Idk

finally did my oc, Sakura-8

took me 2 hours 😞

and her voiceclaim

may or may not change it 🤷🏾‍♀️

finally did my oc, Sakura-8

took me 2 hours 😞

and her voiceclaim

may or may not change it 🤷🏾‍♀️

Is she falling in love?

oc eye reveal and...

her alt mode! (guys I'm trying)

it’s been a long 3 days, but i’m so proud of my baby girl Vibe! Look at how beautiful she is!

I’m still ironing out the details of her back story but I’m imaging her to be Jazz’s lil sister or something and a little older than Bumblebee was in Transformer’s Prime (which is the universe I based her design off of).

Her audio processing unit is permanently semi-defunct, so she relies on lip-reading, sign language and direct transmissions in order to communicate. To adapt, her antenna has been upgraded to sense vibrations from upto 20 feet and pick up radio signals from even further. She often uses this skill to listen to and enjoy Earth’s wide variety of music and entertainment.

She’s so cute, I love her!!!

Guys I'm on a transformers kick

But uhhh this is ScratchDisk. I've never made a Wavewave kid before but I love her a lot

Still workin on personality but generally I liked the idea of rumble n frenzy having a lil sister thats basically double their size

Transformers AU headcanon (AKA Humanformers worldbuilding)

What if... Cybertronians are humans?

Autobots are men and women with Marvel-ish superpowers, so their robot-names are just nickname. Example: Optimus Prime is nothing but a codename for Commander Marcus Cullen, a British man (he was born in London) settled in USA; his sons, Alex and Nathan Cullen, are Bumblebee and Smokescreen respectively; etc. etc. They have a normal look, natural hair and eyes color. So Marcus/Optimus' hair - despite of all Human!Optimus fanarts I found on web, are not blue but dark brown, despite this he has naturally azure eyes; his fiancee Eleanor Miles (AKA Elita One) has not pink hair and blue eyes but red hair and green eyes - yes, Black Widow style! And yes, no tragic backstory for Opty (why people loves Human!Optimus as widow/depressed single daddy? Boh... *shuggles*)

Decepticons are superhumans as well, but evil and with a demonic/monstrous look: human/animal hybrids, cyborgs, androids... NOT a mafia organization in suit and tie (Damn, this is Sci-fi, not a realistic drama! 😅)! So, for example, Morgan Lazarevic aka Megatron is a Lucifer/The Fallen's spawn, half demon and half vampire, always wearing... not a bucket helm but a hood and a cape. He's NOT married with Starscream and/or Soundwave but his wife is a Lilith-ish dark lady... and yes, he's Optimus' big bro

More ideas will come in due time. Let me know what do you think... :)

Florence Castle's Humanformers AU

Paige White AKA Peacewalker

Original Character made by me

Thought I'd draw more of Izure and Ratchet

Typo in the last pic, *she often covers them with her hair

Idk what to do with Ratchet so I based him off lionfish cause wouldn't it be ironic if a venomous fish is also the medic sksks

She was just taking a dip and taking pictures of corals to make reports on the effect of pollution and suddenly a mermaid grabbed her and nagged her. Also Ratchet was about to comment on the shorter hairstyle, thinking she cut it but then Azure and Optimus made their appearances.

Mermaid transformers >>>

Hey how come we brush off the fact that Prime/Rescue Bots Optimus have a T-Rex alt mode

Another Transformers OC but with Rescue Bots instead.

I'll give more info of her, but for now; Ophelia is a non-human being ( doesn't look like it ) who was raised by a witch and can do teleportation magic.

I wanna a Transformers fic with Miko successfully making the Autobots using gen Z slang

They have magic and technology on their sides

I have yet to name the cat guardian tho

Some memes TFP ft.OC

Dynamic ship between Optimus and Azure, and Ratchet and Izure is like ;

OP and AZ : Neutral Good x Chaotic Smartass

Ratch and IZ : Looks like can kill you, is a cinnamon roll x Looks like a cinnamon roll, can kill you

OP and AZ sharing the same interest : 𝘊𝘈𝘛𝘚

I feel like introducing my Transformers Prime OC somehow so please bear with me :D

Azure and Izure Summer; the first Cyber-organic with a Cybertronian father and human mother

The Mother ( Akila ) and the Sire ( Wildwing )

Akila has an Egyptian entity cat creature that has been protecting the Summer family for generations and the creature is now currently protecting Azure and Izure.

The twins have the ability to shift their form into humans and Cybertronians however they please, as well as manipulating their sizes

They keep themselves hidden from the bots and cons since they don't want to participate in their war. But sometimes they make themselves in sight to aid the Autobots for the safety of the earth.

Their cat guardian, however, has more hatred to the Autobots and Decepticons than the twins, since Akila was killed by a Decepticon and Wildwing was killed by an Autobot

The guardian cat respects the twins decisions on whatever they want, but will take desperate measure to keep them safe.

Science fic + fantasy genre here ( with romance subplot )