Incomplete - Blog Posts

Giving off a nasty glare.

Movimiento aparente 12. Se mueve y no. . . . . . . . #nightdrawing #nightsketch #sketch #sketchbook #blackandwhite #miniature #ballet #pose #dance #linedrawing #crosshatching #mechanicalpencil #movement #incomplete #dress #handsandfeet #graphite #sketchonpaper #isaacCM (en Distrito Federal, Mexico) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bo-tySlBX7E/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1136h41qeuml8

Part one of chapter one: The Nest!

Okay, so note: this is only one section of the first chapter. There was supposed to be an prologue thing before this, but because this originally was for a school project, to save some time (and boost my motivation) i skipped over it. Might draw it with the next batch of pages.

Im really excited to put this out! I admit, quality dropped on the last two pages, but I will make up for it im the future!

Anywho, feel free to share this! I hope the dbh fanbase isnt dead.

More Amorvëael Pax A.U. Moments

Megatron had not left the berth in three hours.

He lay sprawled across it dramatically, one arm slung over his optics, the other curled against a throw pillow as though it had wronged him.

“I can feel you moping,” Optimus said gently from the doorway.

“I’m not moping,” Megatron growled. “I’m brooding. There’s a difference.”

“Mmm.” Optimus walked in, setting down a warm energon cube. “So will you tell me why you're brooding, my love?”

Megatron huffed, made a noncommittal grunt, and turned away dramatically. Despite his field brightening at Optimus endearing terms.

Then came the pitter-patter of tiny peds.

Amorvëael entered the room, face covered in pink and orange finger-paint (for reasons unknown, as they had evidently not used those colors), proudly clutching a large piece of canvas.

They climbed up the berth using Megatron’s leg as leverage and plopped the painting onto his chest.

“LOOK WHAT I MADE!” they squeaked.

Megatron blinked down.

The painting was a wild, adorable mess. Two big figures—one with squarish shoulders and a red crest, the other with a cannon arm and flared helm—stood holding hands, surrounded by tiny sparkles. Next to them was a smaller blob with wings and stars for eyes.

Underneath, in messy but legible glyphs, it said:

“Carrier and Sire 4EVER.”

Megatron’s systems shorted for a moment.

Amorvëael beamed proudly. “I didn’t let anyone help me. I made it ALL myself.”

Optimus made a soft noise. “You knew he was upset?”

“He was glarey,” Amorvëael said, nodding solemnly. “So I made him smile again.”

Megatron’s voice was hoarse. “...You did, beloved treasure.”

He pulled Amorvëael into his arms and hugged them fiercely, paint and all.

Optimus kissed both of them and said, “I’ll frame it. Front and center.”

Megatron didn’t answer—just held his sparkling tighter, his spark warm with happiness and affection.

---

Amorvëael Pax

Pronounced: Ah-MOR-vee-EL P-axe

Amor (Latin): Love

Vëa (from Quenya, Tolkien Elvish): Life, being, essence

-ael / -el (Hebrew/angelic suffix): Of or belonging to, often implying divine or sacred

Pax - Peace / period of peace

Meaning/idea: “The life born of our love in a time of peace” or “Most treasured existence of our love in a time of peace.”

From time to time they affectionately call their sparkling beloved treasure for short.

---

Another addition explaining why Megatron was grumpy will be added later. Along with some mischief their sparkling was up too.

The Planner Hidden Away

Title: The Wedding Files: Confidential. Do Not Read, Seriously. Stop.

Part One: Journalistic Crimes and Conjux Chaos

Elita One wasn’t snooping.

She happened to be organizing files in Optimus’ quarters—because he sure as Pit wasn’t going to do it himself—and a misplaced datapad just happened to fall into her hands. The bold red words across the front were… “TOP SECRET WEDDING PLANS – DO NOT OPEN – PRIVATE – MEGATRON DO NOT READ (unless you said yes?)”

Which immediately made her open it.

“Elita, we are not violating Prime’s privacy,” Ratchet said, wobbling in with arms full of medical logs and an expression like a mech who desperately wanted plausible deniability. “Put it back.”

“But Ratchet,” she said sweetly, flipping the datapad open, “he labeled it.”

“…With instructions not to open it.”

“Right. That’s like hanging a sign saying ‘No cookies inside, definitely don’t eat.’”

“…You would eat the cookies.”

She grinned. “And look—look at this!”

Ratchet, a medic and war veteran, had seen many horrifying things in his life. Never had he been more stunned than when Elita rotated the datapad toward him and he saw an entire file titled:

"Bridal Veil Options for Megatron (He’ll Pretend to Hate These But Secretly Love Them)"

Ratchet’s face slowly turned a tired grey. “No. Absolutely not. This is—this is romance. I’m out. I’m too old for this slag. I fought in four wars. No.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Elita grabbed his shoulder and forced him back down onto Optimus’ berth. “You’re in this now.”

Entry 17: Veil Option C - Soft white mesh, long cathedral length, attached to a silver head-plate crown (not too gaudy, subtle Decepticon sigil etched beneath). He’ll roll his optics, but I know he’ll smile later when he thinks no one’s looking. Note: ask Knockout to help design.

Entry 42: Vow Draft (Optimus to Megatron): "I once thought you were my enemy. But you are my other half—every fierce word I shouted into the void, you returned tenfold. And through the static and war, I heard you. I still hear you. Even now, I kneel, not in surrender—but in devotion. To you. My fiercest love. My hope, my endless...." It goes on for several pages.

Elita covered her mouth. “He wrote vows. He wrote Megatron wedding vows.”

Ratchet blinked. “He wrote thirty-seven versions.”

“Oh my Primus,” Elita whispered reverently. “He has a color palette for the reception.”

There was an entire spreadsheet labeled “Which shade of blue brings out his fusion cannon best?” with comments like “lavender is too romantic too soon?” and “is navy blue too ‘war criminal chic’?”

They didn’t stop reading until two hours had passed, both of them crying from silent laughter, and Elita desperately trying not to scream “HE PICKED OUT THE FLOWERS BASED ON WHAT HE THINKS WILL MATCH MEGATRON’S EYES.”

—

Part Two: Two Years Later (and One Toddler)

“—and then the handsome, wise hero raised his sword,” Megatron said, seated beside their young sparkling who sat in a soft, reinforced berth, swaddled comfortably, “and he struck down the evil warlord with one mighty swoop—”

“Carierrrr,” the sparkling (named Amorvëael Pax, because “Warcry” was vetoed by Optimus. Aaaand maybe also because Megatron was intensely partial to the name Optimus suggested, not that Megatron would admit), said, squinting up at him. “But what happened to the warlord?”

Megatron grinned—teeth, fangs, and menaces. “Oh, he exploded, obviously.”

“Megatron,” came a low voice from the doorway. “You know the warlord wasn’t evil.”

Megatron groaned, leaning his helm back against the armchair. “Optimus, I am telling a bedtime story. This is a dramatic tale for developmental benefit.”

Optimus stepped into the room like he hadn’t just been doing peace negotiations all day, still looking like every romantic ideal Megatron would never admit he had. He bent over, kissed Megatron’s cheek, then his mouth, and murmured, “The warlord was a victim of their circumstance, of their society’s broken system of repression, and also very pretty.”

The sparkling blinked. “Carrier, were you the warlord?”

Megatron stared. “No.”

Optimus grinned. “Yes.”

Megatron side-eyed him, scowling. “That’s false information. Your sire has no idea what he is talking about.”

Optimus kissed him again, this time longer, and added softly, to both his Conjux and sparkling “Also, I loved him very much. Still do.”

Their sparkling giggled and groaned. “Ew.”

“Someday,” Optimus said cheerfully, ruffling Amorvëael's helm, “you’ll be grateful your parent's are romantic.”

“Someday,” Megatron grunted, dragging Optimus down to sit beside him, then shifting to sit atop the Prime’s lap, “you’ll learn how to properly villainize your spouse for bedtime entertainment purposes.”

Optimus leaned in closer, letting his hands slide to Megatron’s waist. His voice dropped to a mumur, a whisper. “Do you know what I was thinking about all through that meeting?”

Megatron narrowed his optics, suspicious. “…What?”

“You, wearing that wedding gift I picked.” Optimus’ hands squeezed just slightly. “On our first night together. You remember what we did after you took it off?”

Megatron made a small, choked noise that sounded like pure denial and deeply repressed enthusiasm.

“Because I do,” Optimus continued, lips brushing against the tip of Megatron’s audio receptor. “I remember how soft you were. How vocal. And how many hinges we broke off that berth.”

Megatron growled—growled—low in his throat. “We are in front of the sparkling.”

“Hmm.” Optimus grinned, completely unapologetic. “Then you’d better save it for tonight. Besides, they can't hear us, sweetspark.”

The sparkling blinked up at them innocently. “Why is carrier’s face red?”

Optimus stood, lifting Megatron in one arm like it was nothing, and turned toward the hall. “Because we’re going to talk about love and its many expressions, Amorvëael. Bedtime for you.”

"Don't sneak out and eat cookies in the night again! It's bad for your health!” Megatron chastised over his shoulder as he was carried bridal-style down the corridor. He then turned to falsely argue with the Prime. “I am a warlord! I had a feared name! Put me down!”

“You’re my beloved warlord,” Optimus said, lovingly, “and you’re very cuddly when flustered.”

Later that night, Megatron did wear the gift again. Luckily they had long invested in soundproofing.

—

Meanwhile, in their quarters—hidden in the deepest drawer—was a datapad still carefully preserved with labels like:

“Bouquet arrangements for a very stubborn, secretly romantic tyrant.” “Megatron Vows – Final Draft (don’t cry reading these again, idiot).” “Honeymoon suggestions (some of these are just excuses to see him blush).” “Intimate gift plans – do not open until date night (Megatron Edition).”

And at the very bottom: “Wedding File – Complete. Conjux Endurae status: Happily ever after, and then some.”

---

I definitely put way more than necessary thought into their sparkling's name.

Amorvëael Pax

Pronounced: Ah-MOR-vee-EL P-axe

Amor (Latin): Love

Vëa (from Quenya, Tolkien Elvish): Life, being, essence

-ael / -el (Hebrew/angelic suffix): Of or belonging to, often implying divine or sacred

Pax - Peace / period of peace

Meaning/idea: “The life born of our love in a time of peace” or “Most treasured existence of our love in a time of peace.”

From time to time they affectionately call their sparkling beloved treasure for short.

I don't think I'm to ever complete this beauty

:(

Drogon, the Winged Shadow

Update: I COMPLETED IT!!!! (Separate post)

Bill VS Ford, sketch 1

When Tahseen Anam said,

" And we fall for those who are not even there to hold us"

I felt it through and through.

Not gonna lie, it is getting too hard for me to draw Dancing Rasta's face.

It's still incomplete.

Sayonara ~