Happy Valentine’s Day!

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 ❤️✨️

Okay so we have Stealth Bomber Megatron’s kid working at a bank 

and Rung, Skids sons who one works as a drive and the other as a grave digger or something like that. 

How many more lost light kids are out there!! 

Nightmare of Kaon

fluffy

This is 100% something Starscream would say.

I dunno why I get such a superiority complex in a mall, I look at my fellow man and think “what a bunch of sheep, consumerist zombies” - but I am also in the mall, consuming 

Old retired warlord doodles

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.

Space Crack will do that to your eyes I guess...

megs needing glasses is never not funny to me

Ugh my heart!!

"And what a faithful servant your father is."