Secret Santa Reveal

[Optimus Prime]

Ok so here is the thread we have been prepping for! ((Or in my case being a horrible procrastinator -laughsob-)) People may go ahead and post whatever they have made below. If it is a piece of writing, you can either place it here, or a link to it from the Fan fiction section of the site? I am unsure, just pitching ideas. Basically just do whatever you all want to do!

If you need a lot more time to accomplish what you wanted, and will not have it ready by the end of the 31st, just go ahead and post a note below. Say who you got so that they know they are not forgotten. Really there are no real rules to posting, so I don't know why I even wanted to make an opener post for this ahha... but ALAS here it is, FLY MY PRETTIES! BE FREE!

PS: I need a smidge more time, so I will post again later on in the thread.

[Deleted]

For Secret Santa this year, my randomly-picked recipient was Rumi. For her gift, I decided to take a look at one of her sketches of Roulette's head on Tumblr, and use that as a reference to draw a headshot of Rou. Though I have heavily referenced the sketch due to my own inexperience with art and anatomy, a lot of it is based on my own mental image of Rou. I took the colours from older sketches I found on Rumi's Tumblr, and kind of let my imagination go nuts.

Picture with added texture: i.imgur.com/rFMEoNq.png

Picture without texture: i.imgur.com/Shg0xwd.png

It's not shaded because I was going for a lineless, Samurai Jack-style of artwork, and I wasn't quite sure how to shade it. (I have no experience with freehand digital painting at all.) If you want, Rumi, I can resize and iconify either of the drawings, and you're free to use them on your Tumblr and elsewhere for Rou as well.

[Deleted]

Thaaaaaaaaaaaaaat is adorable, thank you Pote! I love the optics the most.

And I'm holding my place here for my gift that I'm working on, I swear it, darn it. >_>; Will update very soon with my offering.

[Deleted]

Dec 31, 2014 0:55:22 GMT -5 Miko Nakadai said:

Thaaaaaaaaaaaaaat is adorable, thank you Pote! I love the optics the most.

And I'm holding my place here for my gift that I'm working on, I swear it, darn it. >_>; Will update very soon with my offering.

I'm glad you like it. The optics were a lot of fun. I always imagined her eye was some sort of complex targeting mechanism with lots of layers, so playing around with the colours in it was the fun part of this.

Merry belated Christmas, Rumi!

[Deleted]

Alrighty, I got Moon and since I couldn't convince my hand to draw, and I didn't feel I could do someone else's character's justice with a fic, I made a few signatures - feel free to use/not use/re-gift at your leisure, Moon :3

Here's the link to the album.

[Deleted]

I GOT ME A KRAX. So here's a little what-if for Megatron and Windy.

Snap’N’Clack

He dug himself out of the smoldering rubble, one heavily clawed hand groping for leverage and let out a rattling growl that turned into five painstakingly enunciated words. “I’m going to kill him.”

Violence on the scale all around him was still relatively new to the once-miner, once-gladiator, now-warlord. Oh, both sides had tossed around orders for this or that colony, the occasional moon and, if he recalled correctly, at least two smallish planets to be razed, bombed from orbit until nothing remained of use to either faction. It was an entirely different matter to be down on the surface being bombarded, though. For the first few astroseconds it had been almost exhilarating, watching the vast curtains of fire descend from a tarnished sky, obscuring the last few stars and slicing away at the horizon. Structures didn’t explode, collapse or otherwise did those things Megatron was used to; no, under orbital bombardment, a ground-bound watcher merely saw the landscape vanish seamlessly behind a blinding wall of light. And after the first eyewitness shock one did get to think about what said light-show might do to a mech.

The rest of it had been a slag-pit. An utter, complete, slag-pit and the only reason the warlord was alive was because the miner had known to find the deepest hole he could launch himself at. Even as he’d gone tumbling and sliding down the partially upended section of tunnel, trailing wires and snapping delicate piping, Megatron had been well aware that he might not have the means to get deep enough to survive. He’d been, however, just as aware that he had nothing else he could be doing except trying not to smack himself senseless, and so his thoughts had been fixed on that Other Matter from the second or third tumble until he’d finally dug himself out into a choking, thin atmosphere of ash and dust.

The Other Matter hadn’t been talking to him for the past two planetary cycles, short of sounding off with textual acknowledgments that she was still alive, and projected topographic data to keep him from wandering into another minefield. That Other Matter had not been docked when the bombardment had started, which left her unfailingly out on the planetary surface just subjected to utter incineration.

Megatron couldn’t even remember what they’d been fighting about; he wasn’t sure there had been a reason to fight to begin with, other than their grating on each other’s nerves and the inevitable buildup thereof. He was going to stuff Soundwave’s snap-n-clack idea so far down the butler’s nonexistent fuel intake…

But that was a passing thought as he dug himself out of his makeshift tunnel, shreds of half-melted stone clinging to his talons. The collapsed tunnel section had turned into an empty lava tunnel. The planet’s outermost layer for the past few meters had been warm, and the surface itself as he set both pedes upon it was hot enough to almost hurt, soft under a settling layer of ash that still fell like dirty snow all around him. The air had lost any potentially incendiary components, rattling thin and hollow through his vents. Would it even support her thrusters?

He would have known if she’d been offlined, wouldn’t he? He would ache, surely, some part of him would be mourning. Of course, that implied he could, and would, respond as a true carrier ought to…

Megatron tilted his head and scanned the empty skies, both with his optics and with what sensors he could bring to bear. “You have better not be offl—“

“MASTER!”

The impact against his shoulder staggered Megatron sideways, for all the lack of mass of the projectile. Fairwinds crashed scrabbling feet first into his left pauldron, sending a flurry of just-settled ash into the air. Her thrusters’ whine choked and coughed by turns, and it was startling to Megatron to find that he could tell what the ash and blasted atmosphere were doing to her flight systems without asking her for diagnostic reports. There had been a time when he only knew his own frame that intimately.

“Fairwinds.” His tone was even, the gravel in it gone to rest for the moment, but the monolithic presence of his field was tinged with relief. She was singed, she was filthy, she was barely airworthy. But she was alive. “It i–“

“—and then I lost communications because they knocked the satellites down and the atmosphere's all blown out and there's no communications and I couldn’t find anywhere ‘cause of the bombardment and did you know they didn’t even get all their troops up but I did get into the database back at the manufacturing plant when –“ For his one word, Fairwinds had launched into a entire, magnificent tirade as she used the ridges of her carrier’s armor to work her way down his arm, to a more dignified pose.

Automatically, with a sigh that left his vents aching with the acrid heat of the blasted world around them, Megatron lifted his arm to give her a better perch. Five planetary cycles on this Primus-forsaken rock with no company and no lifeline but one verbose cassette, however, had done wonders for his ability to filter out the one occasional useful word out of the other ninety-nine bits of chatter. At the moment, that boiled down to ‘satellites down’, ‘database’ and ‘recovery’.

“Fairwinds.” He was not, however, the only one who’d learned something, Megatron noticed. At that tone, neither angry nor lenient but perfectly commanding, the cassette’s vox clicked immediately offline and her posture shifted upright: a soldier at attention. “It is good to see you are alive.”

She ruffled impressively; spark on her sleeve, every bit of Fairwinds was obviously and immediately pleased. Not once, Megatron noticed, did she hint at their previous disagreement; or cling to her former ill will. Her acceptance, her obedience when he drew the line for her plainly, was as immediate and complete as…

Actually, he had no comparison for it.

“Pshhh. I didn’t have a doubt you’d be fine, not even for this long.” Fairwinds lifted a foot and held two talons barely a breath from each other. A sudden shiver ran through her and she clamped her armor firmly shut, going through the equivalent of some very sharp sneezing, ash flying out of her vents.

Megatron drew the arm she was using as a perch closer to his chest and sighed again, looking about them, and it occurred to him that he’d made a simple, but very sweeping mistake: Fairwinds was a cassette, she would always be a cassette, and in her little cassette spark, she had done everything she could for him – except understand implied cues. He could not speak to her as a mech – not yet. This, then, had to be what Soundwave had meant: familiarity would eventually breed understanding. To force the issue was to risk destruction of the very link between them.

And possibly, to risk destruction of them both altogether. Megatron was still going to strangle Soundwave. Easy mission my aft… “Your faith in me is refreshing.” Fangs were bared in a smile as he shifted her to the jutting spur just before his shoulder joint. “We are, however, still stranded on this blasted rock, bereft of communications and isolated by the Autobots from all hope of Decepticon contact.”

“But you’ve got a plan.” Fairwinds perched and settled, head going up, a little sentry turret Megatron would always be able to trust implicitly.

He checked his cannon and smiled at her again. “Of course.”

Her beak plates shifted in an equally predatory, if slightly awkward, response. “Never doubted it, Master!”

[Optimus Prime]

Zoom-Zoom has a damn height now! -shakes fist-

It is based off of your rough estimate of him being about Wheeljack's waistline, however I boosted him up a smidge taller to the sternum range. I did this because he was redonculously tiny before, like, way more than you have been RPing him as from my perspective >.>;; Arcee could'a tucked him under her arm and trotted off with him otherwise bahhaa

Wheels and helm are scaled to this height, and I figured his overall width would account for the fact he can turn into the small car instead of a motorcycle despite looking Arcee in the eye. I blended toy Zoom-Zoom, with Prowl, some TFP Redesigns of Prowl, maybe a dash of Knockout, and just... my style of drawin' Cybertronian.

Slapped on a bonus rust/dead version.

[Deleted]

Holy crap Zer, that's amazing (and in hindsight, makes that conversation hilarious when you were complaining to me over chat about not being able to consult details with our giftees). Like, holy crap man, I adore it! It actually isn't too far off the vague picture I have in my mind. And dat :/ face, so ZZ! Thank you!

-rolls delightedly over picture-

(And, uh, things are busy here on my end, so I don't think my gift will be up by new years)

[Deleted]

OMG Moon! Thank you so much! I love it! Windy and Megs are just perfect. <3 <3 ^_^

I got Sol, and had a bash at a picture of Aree. Traditional media, as I can't do anything outside of MS Paint. XD I will happily post off the original to anyone who would like it (and doesn't mind PMing their postal address), with first refusal going to Sol. =)

[Deleted]

For better or worse, here is my gift for Zercon. I was going to do a play on Adventures in Babysitting but couldn't get the design right so I did a what if for the Prime. This is how he wishes the thread would go.

On a side note: Prime, I hate drawing you.

[Feldspar]

Well, I totally learned something tonight. I have forgotten HOW to code. XD Seriously, I just totally blanked out on even the simplest codes.

Ahem, that aside... XD

Lex, I got you for the Secret Santa. You don't know how hard it's been not to say a word, hahaa! Kicked around SO many ideas, and then... well... this one just decided it needed to be written. Nature Photography

(Decided to code it so I wouldn't break the board when I added to it! XD) Merry Christmas! <3

[Deleted]

WHHHEEEEE! I love it, Krax! Thank You! I would love to frame that picture up in my apartment. I'll pm you later.

I love the angle and smile on Arcee's face versus her usual stern and no-nonsense expression.

And I already mentioned it to Toggs earlier in the cbox but I'm going to need more time for her gift, since I don't want to rush it. I'll make sure the quality makes up for the wait.

[Optimus Prime]

Hey guys, just a friendly reminder that this is still in play. Be sure to get your presents out! We are creeping up on February!

[Deleted]

I haven't forgotten your gift, Toggs! I'm working on it as quick as I can, some of your characters are just being a little stubborn with me!

[Deleted]

Secret Santa Gift for Toggs

The Burning Heights

Part 1

Burning.

The Translucentica Heights was burning.

Day cycles going into night cycles, the grand towering homes of Cybertron’s elite burned as a smouldering sign that no mech of any status was untouched by the growing and broiling war. Burning stacks of molten scorched metal were all that remained of the once glistening cerulean towers. High rise bridges, once stretching grandly across the skyline, lay shattered at the lower levels with only skewed support struts indicating their previous placement. Loose debris, warped glass, and whole upper sections of tower homes obstructed the lower common ways, preventing ease of access to separate areas of the Heights. An unyielding cloud of soot stirred constantly from ever shifting, unstable wreckage. A misathma of noxious smoke and gases wafted in wandering pockets unsettling any survivors or would be rescuers.

Barricades barred the primary routes into the Translucentica Heights, set up by the remaining and barely organized local rescue and enforcement units from nearby communities to prevent hordes of desperate citizens from rushing in to locate cohort or contacts present in the city at the time of the attack. In the mad jam of crowds, security bots scattered along the control line to maintain the perimeter. During the chaos, a set of hazy golden optics peer over the perimeter line unnoticed by security forces.

The space around the hazy optics blurred, revealing a generic security body form with emergency stripes across its shoulders. Grabbing a random case on the ground, the mech strolled purposefully through the perimeter. The generic looking mech passed by the Translucentica Height border unhassled. Moving a few blocks and turns away from the frenzy activity, the mech ducked into a back alley, ditching the now useless case. Pressing up closely to a semi intact building wall, the unknown mech paused to listen back the way he had came. Sirens and voices remained in the distance, the immediately area around him free of disturbance.

The mech's form shifted, not a traditional transformation, rather his appearance winked out from existence revealing his true frame. An immaculate blue and white frame stood hidden in the back alley, marred with the clinging dust and dirt of the devastation. His golden optics shone too brightly as they darted across the ruined cityscape.

As the public representative of his house, he'd been away from his home and cohort at the time of the unspeakable attack. If fact, news arrived across the public newscomm while he was in investment negotiation meeting with a prospective business partner. In a flawless performance, the noblemech had swiftly concluded the meeting with a serene and unfazed facade, promising the business mech he would get in touch.

Two solar cycles later, he stood upon the threshold of the city sector he had called home, no longer recognizable. He clammered across a fallen bridgeway at a gradual slope. As he was about to jump up and grab a higher ledge to pull himself up to, the bridge way trembled frightenly. The ground underneath gave way, dragging the bridge and the unlucky mech into the sublevels, creating a sink hole. In a stroke of fortune, he crashed onto a small, narrow ledge. He laid there frozen, unmoving, till the deafening clatter of the collapsing superstructure settled and only whispers of gently shifting metal met his audios.

Gingerly and painfully, the noblemech pushed his battered frame off the dusty ground with trembling arms. The once pristine blue and white armor was marred with scores of scratches and dents. An elbow joint throbbed painfully from almost being rend out of place. A fine layer of dust and thick patches of grim dulled his colors. Grimacing, he found his path cut off from him.

With his good arm, he pulled himself off his precarious perch and stumbled a safe distance from the sinkhole. Scrambling up a taller and more stable debris pile for a higher vantage point, the noblemech's normally calm composure while scaling the mound shook with an uncharacteristic desperation. The reality was too surreal for him to easily acknowledge the evidence currently surrounding him. The grimness of war was the battle of lesser and barbaric mechs, not to those locked away in their secure and safe towers. The Decepticons didn't agree.

Reaching the pinnacle, he gazed about frantically, searching, for his tower, his home. The Cerulean Tower, the most renowned landmark of the northern quadrate, laid in shambles indistinguishable from the surrounding wreckage. The jutting grand spires of 'iron glass', which once loomed over the city, created a of pale green on the ground. Light reflecting off the glass fragments set a searing pain in the noblemech's golden optics.

Mirage dropped to his scuffed knees, arms sagging to his side. The unflappable mech, groomed to always have a carefully schooled persona, stared across the devastated landscape and released a wordless spark-wrenching cry, utterly lost in the madness consuming their world.

He almost wished the sinkhole had claimed him after all.