#mythformers

[cybernetic-oreos]

Tfa Strika as a Minotaur from the Greek mythology?

#girlboss

[skweekyclean]

darkling Jazz inspired by Oroshi Kirin from Monster Hunter

[rustedservos]

“I’ll stay with you until it’s over.” have some old age gryphon and smol dragon.

Ratchet knew times were changing. He could feel it in the tides, in the pull of the moon, could hear it in the whisper of the forest. He felt it in the ache of his joints, the dulling of the colors, the muffling of the sounds. He was dying. Of course this is how he would go, a long, slow, drawn out painful way, not a quick, painless sleep to drift off to. He was alone, forgotten, a relic of a past long since buried, and the very Earth itself seemed to be laughing at him.

That was, until he found the dragon. Well, dragonling. She was tiny, malnurished, and curious. He was going to have to teach her everything he could before he passed. He had so much knowledge, and she had so much curiosity. She would be an excellent distraction from the pain and the dimming of this old soul.

Finally. It was time. He could feel the years resting on his shoulders, weighing him down like his wings. He had lost the ability to move them months ago. His claws were dull, eyes milky, fur patchy. He had lost much muscle mass; you could almost count each bump of his spine through his thin, thin fur. 

There was snow outside, he could feel the tickle of the cold from where he was curled up in his next. There was a comforting weight of dragonling curled up around him; it was too soon. She wasnt ready to face the world, her teachings only half complete. He had hoped she would be a faster learner, or perhaps he had forgotten the vast knowledge he had collected throughout the years.

“Sparkplug.” He called softly, the wheeze of overworked lungs making him cough. Something rattled low in his chest; he was pretty sure he had broke a rib a month back, and it wasnt healing. The fire from the broken edges kept him awake most of the time; he was so, so tired.

The dragonling uncurled to the best of her ability, he felt her nuzzle into his neck. She recoiled, almost as if she could smell death on him already.

“No.” She said, claws raking into the softness under the old Gryphon, he cried out in pain as it jostled his burning joints to much. She whimpered and licked his feathers, grooming him one last time.

“Stay with me, until it is over.” He asked softly, breathing heavily at the end of that sentence. Damn it, he hated being old. He felt her press closer, bit back the pain, as he leaned onto her warm, warm scales. She rarely sat in her human form, anymore, and he found in this moment that she was perfect the way she was.

“You remember what I taught you.” He said, slowly losing feeling in his backlegs. The warm numbness grew, eating up his spine and his wings; they sagged to the ground, flight feathers spreading against the nest. He felt as if there was a metal band around his chest again, binding his ribs into one place so that it was difficult to breathe.

“Yeah, Ratch.” She said, to which he smiled, the warm numbness taking the pain out of his shoulders as it crept up his neck. He never thought he would say this, but he was going to miss that scaly trouble maker.

“Be safe.” I love you.

And with that, he was gone.

[squids-in-disguise]

me: i should work on more examples of things and old bday gifts and art i owe also me: or you could draw OCs as harpyformers

:C

@ephdraws, skyline as a harpy oops

harpyformers are the brainchild of eph.

[cybernetic-oreos]

IDW Tarn as a Dullahan for the mythology asks please?

[The Dullahan is depicted as a headless rider, usually on a black horse, who carries his own head on his arm. Usually, the Dullahan is male, but there are some female versions. It is said to be the embodiment of the Celtic God Crom Dubh. The myth of the Dullahan comes from Ireland.

The mouth is usually in a hideous grin that touches both sides of the head. Its eyes are constantly moving about and can see across the countryside even during the darkest nights. The flesh of the head is said to have the color and consistency of moldy cheese. The Dullahan is believed to use the spine of a human corpse for a whip, and its wagon is adorned with funeral objects: it has candles in skulls to light the way, the spokes of the wheels are made from thigh bones, and the wagon's covering is made from a worm-chewed pall or dried human skin. The ancient Irish believed that where the Dullahan stops riding, a person is due to die. The Dullahan calls out the person's name, drawing away the soul of his victim, at which point the person immediately drops dead.] -Wikipedia

[cybernetic-oreos]

Hey! I think a selkie tailgate would be pretty cute, little seal lad 🥺

BOTH.

[cybernetic-oreos]

Transformers Prime Soundwave Nuckelavee >:3

[cybernetic-oreos]

For the mythformers, may I request IDW Devastator as the Hydra from Greek mythology?