historictyrant-blog

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Stares off into the distance, blank faced, even when surrounded by nature and all her living creatures.

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(( Finally some AoE Galvatron appreciation from someone other than me.

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poiseandpatience

“No.” The answer was immediate and unintended to actually slip out. He wanted to rip back the reply, especially considering how pained it sounded. His voice strained as he took only half a step closer. Galvatron could be genuine or not, but there was a bigger issue at play here.

“What have you’ve done to yourself? I… I can’t feel you.” It was different than just being far away— beyond the admittedly rather short distance they were linked. Then he knew it was just distance in the way.

Now he felt a sheering pain throb in his Spark. There was nothing.

~

Optics blink at the step forward, the closing distance slowly resurrecting more moments similar to it in their processor. Though that remained a background function, Galvatron’s more immediate attention was that of Drift. No? They wondered, letting the other vent.

“I made myself better.” KSI slogans might have gotten to them, but they were also serious. No delusions of power to make them fly through space or moments of depression to get themselves killed, they felt better at least. That didn’t answer the question though, so they continued. “I sacrificed this to be strong,” claws curl to point and hover around their vortex grinder. “For Cybertron. For us.”

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(continued from . . . x)

poiseandpatience

The lack of emotion is probably what irked Drift the most. Brought forth a… well, arguably much needed disconnect from his former Master. But still it managed to eat away at him. They’d always been his weakness…

Perhaps finally he can shake free of it. Even if a part of him still desperately searched the reborn tyrant’s facial features for any sign that maybe it wasn’t what it seemed to be.

~

“Are you okay?” Galvatron still managed to spit something out, unlike the other who seemed conflicted in thought. Whatever Drift may be caught in now must be a confusing game, from a barren canvas to suddenly caring—whether it was merely social intuition or genuine—Galvatron is an enigma to not only themselves but Cybertronians alike.  

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(continued from . . . x)

robotxwrangler

[ 🔧 ] :|| Sweat rolled down the back of the inventor’s neck as he pinned himself up against the ruined wall. His breathing had been ragged ever since he broke into a full sprint, splitting from his mission to escape the massive Decepticon—Galvatron. It wasn’t a question of howhe had been tracked, of course; there was no doubt that his heat signature could be spotted from miles away by someone this advanced.

No, the question that spiraled in Cade Yeager’s mind then was why: why him? And why now?

“Your terms make no damn sense,” he finally managed, chest aching. His eyes never left the sword. “Why would I give all of it up when you’ve got nothing left, huh? And why me? There’s plenty of assholes from the government that know more than I do.”

~

Heh, the exhausted human brought back memories of chasing another back in one of the first events on Earth by Cybertronians. Enough reminiscing, Galvatron had to force out this other life that had conflicted with their present self, orange optics locking back on Cade below.

Nothing left? Tch, they chose to ignore that bit and move on to the more prevalent question. “Because.” The sword finally came to a stop, pointed down at the other now in accusation. “You know Prime, you can hurt him.” Galvatron wanted nothing but to bring pain to their old Nemesis.

They knew that Prime was troubled with humanity enough, especially when hearing the news of Ratchet being slaughtered back when they were merely a head in KSI’s secret lab. 

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poiseandpatience

~

Metal creaked, caving more easily than any other part of Drift’s natural frame would under the pressure– the reformatting giving way to the harsher hold just slightly. And it had Drift tensing; if Galvatron was determined to expose Drift’s true features… it was going to hurt. The metal over top was much more pliable and weak then the Ostrien’s own facial structure that it’d been wielded to, in a sense. The exposure wouldn’t be ‘pretty’, nor would it be without pain.

A snarl left Drift at the half mention of their dead name, and had they not more concerning matters to worry about he’d probably spare a moment to be surprised at the cut off. Most Decepticons made a point of jeering out the name he once donned so proudly before.

Drift’s first response once that talon left his intake was a heavy gasp, cycling in cooler air to help with the climb in temperature the torture and rough treatment had brought to his frame. Golden optics half shuttering in relief before jolting back open as the Samurai smacked Galvatron’s probing digits.Wires pulling easily just from the size and roughness alone. Eventually the alarm warbled awkwardly before dying out completely to leave a stark silence in the building.

A silence that Drift, once more, broke, as his frame finally stopped squirming.

“… Hatchlings?”

~

Claws swiftly slide out from Drift, crude oil and bits of energon spilled from torn wiring helped make that exit a lot more gentle then it could have been; some of those same liquids painted bits of Galvatron’s frame, most prominently the servo that caused the situation.

Even though the tyrant had no Spark, something needed to power that monstrous void—or power core—residing within their chest. This led to them dragging the end of their energon covered thumb along their tongue wickedly, tasting Drift yet again. 

However it was more Cybertronian than sadism fueling the action this time around. Speaking of, this sudden transition made the question a lot more easier for Galvatron to open up about despite the position they had the other in. “Yes, Hatchlings. Heirs to the Decepticon Empire.”

Empire, that could make anyone’s optics roll with the current state they’re all in, there is no Cybertronian super power. Megatron’s power of gloating must have carried over too, anyways, Galvatron continued. “I cannot let them fall, as so many others have.” 

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[sentence starter] “what am i supposed to say to that?”

Galvatron twirled a sword elegantly, one that once belonged to an Autobot, it almost sounded ecstatic as a noise resonanted within each slice through the air; proudly displaying their trophy. "You'd be smart to say yes, and agree to my terms."

It seemed Galvatron had personally tracked the human down and backed them into a corner of negotiation; likely against the Autobots, given their history.

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"I can still remember the good times.... " 🙃

"As do I," memory being the only thing they have anyways—that said, does Galvatron remember those times, or is it merely confirming a well stored event from his previous vessel. Either way, the Samurai was looked down upon unbiased, without emotion from the words spoken.

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seven-word sentence starter.

“please, don’t take this the wrong way.”

“know that we’ll still have each other.”

“tell me we’re doing the right thing.”

“you know what i was gonna say.”

“i don’t give a shit what happened.”

“everything is so confusing. i don’t know.”

“sorry. i didn’t mean what i said.”

“you really don’t have to keep apologising.”

“i hate knowing we have to hide.”

“it’s not your fault. don’t blame yourself.”

“this is all out of our control.”

“i think i’m going crazy without you.”

“what am i supposed to say to that?”

“we need to talk. call me.”

“i can’t sleep because of all this.”

“how much more must i be hurting?”

“i’m not the person i once was.”

“c’mon you know it’s not like that.”

“what about all of this is funny?”

“tell me you don’t feel the same.”

“you always seem to make me speechless.”

“you left me here all by myself.”

“is this all a joke to you?”

“i can still remember the good times.”

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Smug. Ass. Smirk.

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Pops one half of his mask off—as if it were just a prop—before sliding an armor plated talon down their sharp cheek structure; ouch.

That thing can be such a hassle to bare at times. To make use of this temporary freedom, golden denta flash as Megatron snaps his jaw back into place, steam oozing out the hole between his intricate cheek design.

That atta' fix the built up tension around that area. After that simple maintenance, the tyrant hooks the plate of mask back into place—slamming shut against its mirrored piece. This was shortly followed by a growl, feeling content with his ominous identity behind the mask once more.

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Megatron held his chest tightly, grah...

What now?

Whatever it may be, it felt... old; perhaps the living core was reminiscing on something long ago.

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“Name’s Sideways.

    But don’t let that fool you.

          … I’m a pretty good shot.”

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“That’s the first time I’ve died in a while. Guess I was overdue.”

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“Finish this planet.

     We are done here.”

{A Neo-Tyran Megatron.} 

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Brawl: You look hideous.

Bonecrusher: You changed too.

Brawl: /Appropriately/.

Barricade: Quiet down you two, the Second in Command is trying to reach me.

Bonecrusher: Megatron is d—.

Barricade: Barricade reporting in, Second in Command.

Starscream:

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“Finish this planet.

     We are done here.”

{A Neo-Tyran Megatron.}