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UGHHHHHH issogood!!

Big. Beautiful.

“Do you miss Cybertron? Do you dream of the skyline of Vos?”

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!”

one more Drawpile doodle for the night

They're all so sweeeeeet. I love them!

I’ve been thinking off an on about Cybertronian Fauna, and wondered to myself: what if instead of there being a version of most mammals, there were instead crustaceans and gastropods??

Keep reading

Oop (°~ °;)

Daily reminder that, while driving the giant driller, Jack almost got Bulkhead kicked out of the Cybertronian Repopulation Program.

Why indeed?

Ratchet, to Wheeljack: It’s like you’re involving me in crime, and I let you. Why do I let you?

Cute

60 minutes? drawing. Themed “Sleep”

Part 5🥀🩶

Working the pit broadcasts had always been a tedious affair. The bots in attendance would often partake in engex a little too enthusiastically, becoming raucous beyond what their usual decorum codes allowed. The Masters were inclined to make exceptions during these events, however, as they were immensely lucrative.

Ignoring the urge to groan as she stepped into the server’s station behind the bar, the red femme locked optics with the smaller white bot and shared a knowing smile.

“I can hardly feel my aft anymore. I think I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been grabbed.”

Gold brows tilting playfully, she replied, “The poor thing. I’ll make sure to pay special attention to it once we’re done here.”

While the work was far from pleasant - and the clientele equally abysmal – there was one benefit to being assigned to these fights. All of the attending courtesans and servants were rewarded a recharge slot immediately after, which meant that whenever she and her lover were on the same rotation, they could spend that time together.

The lounge erupted in a chorus of shouts, and both femmes, along with the others who’d been standing in the wings awaiting their cues, peered around the wall that separated them from the rest of the room. The main event was beginning, the participants making their entrances onto the arena floor. The monitor at the far end of the lounge flicked between angles, cycling theough an overhead view, a shot of the packed stadium, before finally zooming in on the gladiators.

“How utterly barbaric,” another courtesan - a slender blue mech – murmured.

She was inclined to agree. The Pit Fights were labeled as ‘entertainment’, but she saw them for what they were. A reminder to the lower castes that they were expendable.

The cheers of the patrons quickly turned sour, some snarling expletives while others merely scowled up at the screens.

“They must not like that one very much,” her lover observed.

The bot in question was one she recognized. He had first appeared some time ago as an underdog - a former miner, she recalled, having heard the chatter at previous events. It was… intriguing to have witnessed the shift in their view of him. There was a brief time, early on, when many of the clients had been fans of his, or rather fans of the funds they made by betting on him. Despite the odds he won, over and over again, and as he gained popularity among the lower castes, his favor in the optics of the higher castes quickly plummeted.

At a table not far from where they were stationed, a particularly loud soldier sneered, “This is it. There’s no way he makes it out of this one!”

“You’ve said that before,” one of his companions drawled, his tone far more controlled.

The other laughed lowly, a malicious sound. “I’ve got it on good authority that the Pit Masters have stacked the match. A lineup no single bot could survive.”

“Awful,” her lover whispered in response.

“It’s their nature,” she reminded her, having grown to expect nothing less from their ilk. The high castes treated those beneath them like objects and tools, made for the sole purpose of their benefit, comfort, and entertainment.

She had seen many of the mech’s matches, not that the fighting had ever truly interested her. His oration skill, however, had caught her off guard and piqued her interest. He had a tendency to speak to the crowd after a victory, his words stirring the flicker of unrest in her spark. He spoke of the undue suffering of his people, and all those who were not so fortunate as to have been designated a higher ‘function’. His insistence that every sentient being ought to have the opportunity to carve their own path struck a chord deep within her, and the feeling had remained ever since, growing steadily with time.

She glanced down at her Star, wondering if her dreams of freedom were really all that unattainable. Glancing back at the monitor, the red femme watched the reigning champion take his position. Prior to this match, she had found amusement in his success, not because she found him amusing – she didn’t pay much attention to the fights themselves – but because he caused such unrest in the higher castes. Watching them unravel was always enjoyable. Tonight, for the first time, it felt important… more meaningful somehow. She cared about his victory.

‘Please… you have to win.’

The fight was a brutal one, and – as the loud soldier from earlier had suggested – certainly seemed as though it was rigged to ensure his loss. Yet despite the impossible odds, he held his own, moving with a speed and grace that belied one of his frame type, pressing on with a ferocity she had never seen before. It was wildly impressive... and inspiring.

Tensions in the lounge were high, patrons nearly silent as the match dragged on. When no one was looking, she grabbed hold of her lover and pulled her back behind the bar, ensuring they were alone.

“What is it? Is everything alright?” the smaller bot asked, gentle servos cradling her waist.

She looked down at the femme who had given her the only joy she knew, tracing the lines of her beautiful countenance with irreverent optics. “We should leave this place.”

The little femme smiled, making to reply.

“No… I mean it.”

“We cannot-”

“Please, just listen. Those mechs at the table, they’re afraid of him. Of what he’s doing. All the higher ups are. They won’t say it, but it tracks in their tone, their posture when they speak of him. I’ve been watching, listening. If this truly becomes the movement they fear it will… we might have a real shot at making a life for ourselves outside of these walls. It may be the only chance we ever get.”

Her lover glanced up at her with worry etched into her features, slim digits tightening on the plates along her backstrut.

“It would be dangerous… to go. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Reaching around, she took up the other’s smaller servos and held them in her own, rubbing comforting circles over the joints. “We’re in danger here… every day. The danger just looks different, it’s not as apparent. My Star… I would never leave without you, so if you want to stay, we stay. Just… please… think about it.”

There was a brief pause, only a handful of nano-kliks, but it felt like a small eternity. Finally, the white femme gave her an answer.

“For you, my Scarlet Flower, I would go to the ends of the universe. Where you go, I follow.”

The kiss was so desperate and abrupt it nearly knocked the pair of them over, but she was able to brace them against the wall, lifting her slender lover off the floor and cradling her against her chassis.

Ex-venting as she willed her spark not to burst with joy, she promised lowly, “I will do everything I can to protect you.”

“We will protect one another,” was her soft reply.

“NO!!”

The livid shout and the sound of a table clattering over brought their shared moment to an abrupt end, and she quickly set the white and gold femme down to see what all the commotion was about.

Several bots were on their pedes, staring at the monitor. On it, the image of an energon soaked arena flickered, and in the middle of it all stood the champion, still undefeated.

“I still function!”

His raspy cry sent the crowd into a frenzy, the deafening applause quieting only when he lifted a servo, signaling he had more to say.

“Let this be a message to those who seek to see my spark snuffed out – those who seek to see all of us defeated. We are the many, and our time has come!”

Again they cheered, and again he brought them to heel with a wave of his servo.

“For too long they have reaped the rewards of our suffering. Without us, they would have nothing. They would be nothing. And when we come together, there is nothing they can do to stop us from claiming everything we are owed. We will have justice! Stand with me! Rise up!”

The cacophony of voices surged in volume, slowly coming together in a chant that filled the stadium, and in turn, the dimly lit lounge.

Megatron! Megatron! Megatron!

The bots in attendance said nothing as they watched the spectacle unfold, and she could practically feel the nervousness radiating from them.

The two femmes, now standing side by side, glanced at one another.

“It’s fragging impossible! No one should have survived that!” the inebriated soldier shouted, looking ready to flip another table. The mech he was with tried in vain to calm him, but he was having none of it, the feeble attempts only serving to fuel his rage.

A Keeper moved to intervene at this point, speaking lowly to him, gesturing in ways that made her nervous. Suddenly her optics cut across the room at them, signaling one of them needed to come and attend their guest.

Frag. There went their evening together. She had to keep a tight hold on her displeasure in that moment, but reminded herself it was a very real possibility that soon they would have all the time in the world with one another.

Her lover’s small servo caught her arm. Glancing down, she lifted a brow in askance.

“Let me take this one. I’ll get him settled.”

“Are you certain. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to be very pleasant company.”

“Undoubtedly, however… I do have a way with the more surly ones,” the white femme teased.

A short chuckle escaped her vocaliser. “Yes, you certainly do. Take care, Star of my Spark. I’ll see you soon.”

Ratchet was requested to read human's slangs