Gutter-bot - A Little Bit Warped

dailybot sketch # 841/999 weird day, edition

Peak

Gomen

A - Z Megatron X Reader

Rating: Mature

Warnings: violence and death, cult-like mentality

Megatron/Reader (You) in which you are a zealous follower at the dawn of the war

F is for Fanatic

“This is madness!”

Your narrowed optics observe the old bot as he is restrained, hoisted upright to stand on trembling limbs. Members of his guard, those who remained alive, protested the rough handling through their muzzles. The one at your pedes attempted to rise, but you pulled him back down to the ground, glowering at him in warning.

“You call this madness… I call it justice.”

The room stilled at the deep utterance, the entrance of the Decepticon figurehead seeming to stop time. Unhurried steps carried him through the wreckage of what was once the doorway, across the glossy tiled floor until he towered over the detained mech.

“The masses will not stand for this attack,” came his somber reply.

“We are the masses,” Megatron bit out, fanged grin punctuating the statement. “We are the righteous, once chained by your ambitions, but no more. You will bear the culmination of our wrath.”

The weathered official shook his helm, the cables that framed his faceplate swaying as he insisted, “The Council has agreed that the castes be disbanded. Is this not what you want?! The Prime will-”

“The Prime,” he interrupted, reaching out to clamp his talons over the old bot’s mouth, “does not speak for us. He has never lived as we have, never suffered at the servos of the Council. If you truly thought, Ambassador, that we would be satisfied with such a representative, you are a fool.”

You snarled in agreement, ramming your blaster into the helm of the mech at your pedes.

Megatron releasied the envoy, turning as he began to circle the room. He addressed his followers. “From the beginning, they've treated us as though we are nothing. It is the wreckage of our bodies that feeds their machine, our energon that fuels this planet.”

His every step is measured, towering frame casting its shadow upon all as he passes by. “And peace… peace is what they offer to appease us when we finally come to collect. An insincere apology for the horrors we’ve endured.”

He stops before you, and elation dances along your circuits as your gaze meets his. “What say you to that? Do you want their peace?”

“No!” the word all but leaps from your vocalizer, echoed by the thunderous cry of your brethren.

The silver titan turned to face the subdued old mech yet again, claws splayed at the demonstration. “And there you have it. We will take what is owed to us. And it starts with you.”

Pulling himself into as straight a pose as his aged frame could manage, he accused, “You are no savior, Megatron. You are nothing but a criminal. You claim to want to free your people, but the tyranny you offer in place of the caste system is no different.”

His laughter was deep, slow as he approached his prisoner, talons sliding into a fist as he unsheathed the blade from his gauntlet. “My tyranny, as you call it, will shape this world into greatness. A world in which all bots have the freedom to choose. I have plucked us from the cesspit of despair we have been forced to toil in. I have opened the optics of this planet’s inhabitants to the corruption of the High Council and the upper castes. Decadent, gluttonous vermin leeching profit from our suffering. There is only one way this can end. We take what we are owed and shatter every remnant of the old ways. Either you stand with us to realize this vision, or…” he drawled, lifting the weapon to rest upon his enemy’s shoulder plating. “You stand in our way.”

He took a moment to look around at the subdued guards. “The choice is yours now. Stand with us to dismantle the system of oppression that has gripped Cybertron for too long…. or face your end here and now.”

When no one responded, the large mech took a sweeping glance at his followers, nodding once. Blaster charging, you pressed it into the base of your captive’s helm, awaiting the final call. Righteous anger barreled through your lines. How they could continue to stand with these… monsters, after everything they were responsible for?! How could they not see the depravity of their world as it was? How desperately they needed to be cleansed. And cleanse them you would. This entire, filthy planet would be delivered from its wrongdoings by the only mech who was fit to rule it. You watched with mounting anticipation as your master lifted his blade.

“Decepticons, our time is now!”

His cut was clean and precise, and the Ambassador’s lifeless husk was dropped unceremoniously to the ground. The outraged cries of his guard were silenced shortly after with a barrage of gunfire. You smiled down at the smoking hole in the back of your captive’s helm before curling your servo into a fist and lifting it into the air.

“All hail Megatron!”

hihi!! as you already know im a sucker for kobd <3 and i was wondering if you could write some kobd angst from breakdown's pov 👉🏾👈🏾

Of course!! Set after the events of s2 ep7 of Aligned...

Breakdown was a tough bot, always had been. Getting roughed up was nothing new to him, neither was pain. But... there was just so much. Everywhere. He couldn't even decipher the readings at this point. Too many, too quick. Then, with startling suddenness, it was gone. Coherent thought fizzled into a series of flickering pictures, briefly snapping into clarity before blurring together again. It was an unsettling feeling, as though he'd been pulled abruptly from a deep recharge. His processor felt sluggish, static-laden. He was on the ground. Had he... passed out? And where had that Pit-spawned glitch gone off to? The forest around him was quiet. The distinct clack of her many legs and the smug sound of her laughter were absent. Had she fled? Likely... coward. He was not looking forward to reporting that news to his Master. First things first... he needed to get back to... to who? Had he come here with someone? Why couldn't he... think... The static returned, and he shuttered his one remaining optic a few times hoping to clear things up. 'She must have... messed me up good.' He needed to get back. Knockout would patch him up. He always did. If only he didn't feel so depleted. 'Get up. For frag sa-sakes. M-move.' His limbs would not respond. He couldn't... feel them. Couldn't feel them... oh. Oh. He needed help. Urgently. His comm wouldn't work. 'H-help... anyone...' Lights flashed ahead, a vehicle pulling up. 'Knockout!' Relief flooded through him. He could fix this... fix him. Visuals were bleeding together now, and he could hardly make out anything apart from the light and the shadowed shape of his partner as he neared.... wait. Two shapes... three... all small. 'N-not Knock- not Knockout.' Everything was dimming. He struggled to bring himself back, to fight through the fog. No matter how he tried, awareness slipped further and further from his reach. 'I have to get b-back... to him... Primus please...'

His audial receptors were beginning to fail, sound coming through in patches.

"MECH 1 to Sylas...."

Such a cute take!

The family 🤧 every time I think about all of the collectively they just make me think of matryoshka dolls 🪆! I thought it was very cute, imagining opening a Soundwave to a small Ravage to a smaller Rumble/Frenzy to a smaller Laserbeak/Buzzsaw to a smallest Ratbat… they are very precious to me…

Transformers Prime // various text posts/headlines

Ahaaa.... but please don't step on me, Mr. Toaster.

Previews #312 [Textless] (2014)

Art by: Sarah Stone

Ahhhhhh!!!! Fuuuuuuck me right up with this picture!

- equaliser set. sound check. -