“What’s the matter?” Megatron sneered. “Why are you making such a face?”

He lifted a brow, and continued with that elegant way of his. The pitch of his voice rose in volume and ferocity as he continued, “I crawled my way up from the muck of Kaon. I tore through the arenas with spilled energon on my lips and hands. I ripped apart friend and foe alike.

"I screamed my name until it was echoed back at me by the masses crying out as I stood in the center of the deepest pits of Cybertron’s core.

"I am Megatron!” He roared.

He calmed, the slick smile growing back on his face. He chuckled, “You didn’t really think that I would be intimidated or embarrassed by a scrap of pink fabric, did you?

"Oh, so you did,” he said. “Well, allow me to correct that misguided daydream.”

Inspired by this comic panel.

TF - Masks

[Let’s start this new year off right. Here’s a little Tarn/Megatron to shake things up. *puts on cool glasses* Wanted to explore a little of my own thoughts on Megatron, and how they’d contrast with a character like Tarn.]

Rating: PG for Implied Sexual Situations.

Summary: Today, Tarn would see Megatron. He had to hold it together. Tarn must hold it together.


Tarn clicked off his mask and placed it on the side table next to his berth. 

One of the biggest mistakes that the Autobots made daily, was to assume that the Decepticons were a faction like their own: A group of individuals fighting for a single cause.

They were fools. 

Keep reading