I was wondering you maybe had any thoughts on Killmaster? He may or may not have become my new favorite psychopath despite appearing in like 6 panels before being yeeted.
If not that’s totally fine! The last thing I want to do is sound demanding, you’re a fabulous artist and deserve utmost respect! I’m the easy one who asks for one character anyways (sweet lovely Geomotus). And by all means if you just aren’t feeling it then I gift you…
Opossum Babies!
Have a lovely day! :D
Awww! They’re cute when they’re tiny. I only vaguely remember this guy, but he might be a monoformer and his real name is apparently Murderking, but he thought maybe it needed a little something, so he changed it
Pet
Killmaster x Reader
• Venting on a low growl as his head turns, he stares down another mech in passing and his plating lifts on a snarl as he lunges when the mech makes the mistake of meeting his optics. Rumbling angrily, his plating doesn’t settle until the other Decepticon hurries away. Clawed servos flexing, he lets himself into his habsuite and secures the door before disarming, laying his displacement wand on a shelf. Moving through his space, he braces a hand on his berth and leans down.
• Head lowering, his face brushes against the lump of blankets as he vents and rumbles. Feels you squirm and hears your indignant chirping before a tiny hand lands on his face. Trying to push him away. Clearing his vents hard as he nuzzles more firmly against you, your head finally pops out of your blankets, hair a mess. Head tilting, he watches you gather your blankets while chirping at him and wagging a tiny finger. Fussing at him. Amused, he wonders if you realize that anyone else would die for that. Brutally.
• Glowering up at the massive alien mech as he growls nonsense, you try to fix your bedding to where it’s somewhat comfortable again and he keeps growling at you. Caving when you hear the crinkle of plastic, you look over at him and just stare. Because that’s a fruit basket. Where did he get a fruit basket from? Pushing to your feet, you walk closer as he rumbles and dangles it out of reach. Had tried charades with him to try and make him understand you’re sentient, but he either doesn’t care or you’re awful at acting out words.
• Wiggling the treat basket, he’d been told that getting through the inedible plastic to the food inside was excellent enrichment for your kind. And you reach up your hands, fingers wiggling as you chirp. Obviously wanting the treat. Leaning an arm against his berth, he pinches the treat container by the top and slides it tantalizingly around. Trying to get you to play. To hunt. Moving it closer and then sliding it away, you turn to stare up at him, chirping softer.
• Why? Exasperated as he wiggles the basket around like it’s a cat toy while watching you expectantly, you blow out a breath and glare up at him. “For the record, this is really demeaning,” you mutter as you stare at the basket with its confetti paper and fruit. And you lunge, banging a knee on the berth when he swings the basket out of reach. Bare feet squeaking on the metal as you chase after it, you throw yourself at the basket and manage to grab the bottom, fingers digging in as he play tugs at it. Apparently determined to make you earn a damn banana. Butt hitting the berth when he growls and lets go, you rip into the plastic and paper. Ignoring him as you claw the peel off an orange, you’re starving for anything besides those nasty food pellets he gives you.
