I AM RUINATION

𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐌 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘𝐑

TACTICTURN // 𝙎𝘼𝙔 𝙎𝙐𝙍𝙍𝙀𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍. 𝙎𝘼𝙔 𝘼𝙇𝘼𝘽𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍. 𝙎𝘼𝙔 𝙔𝙊𝙐'𝘿 𝙆𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙄𝙏.

A Private, low activity, TRANSFORMERS RP blog. Follows personal HEADCANON AND LORE and takes inspiration from TRANSFORMERS PRIME, G1, IDW (MINORLY) As Penned by HELLHOUND (HOUND, WRATH). 18+ minors unwelcome.

𝘈 𝘚𝘛𝘜𝘋𝘠 𝘐𝘕. . . Silence is golden, the pursuit of power, betting on losing dogs, devotion to the point of destruction, the bonds that break us, freedom at all costs, cruelty as second nature, what's behind the mask, snake tongues, being a jackal in a henhouse, when push comes to shove, the price of war, exceeding expectations, ego and faking it all, no one hates me more then me, unshakable self destruction.

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒. i. DOC. (RULES + MUSE LIST+BIOGRAPHY LINKS)

Though she needn't show off for all the fact of seekers flexibility being rather infamous, she still takes the moment to lean down, bending at the waist, grabbing her ankle and, upon rising back to her full height, lifts the entire leg with her until she is stood in a full split.

Letting go of the leg, she then bends over fully backwards into a bridge and, pushing off, flips herself over to return to standing again.

Despite the way her helm hurts, she hovers by the window in contemplation again about stepping outside of her self imposed cage... Maybe tomorrow.

He doesn't think Starscream has any green... none that he's seen, anyway. Testing his luck, Bulkhead steps closer, reaching out slowly toward the curve of her waist, giving her every opportunity to escape should she be unreceptive to his antics today.

Normally, the audacity to even try and reach for her unwarranted- or over a silly Earth holiday- would garner someone so foolish the full palm to tip rake of her claws. And a mouthful of harsh words to go along with it like salt in a wound.

But she did have to admit, the boldness to try was something that most shied away from. The wrecker making an obvious reach for her waist was almost endearing. At least enough that she would allow it.

All bright red, white, and black, she didn't have a speck of green in her entire color scheme. Her spark wasn't even green.

She'll let him get all the way and get that servo around her waist before she steps in close enough to press the length of her chassis against his and then digs her claw tips into the seam of his codpiece armor and pinches one of his wires in return.

Offering him a coy little smile and then just as swift as she was in range of his grasp she's far outside of it, giving him little more then the flutter of her wings and a playful little wave in her departure.

― iced over, out of the sun