Part 6🥀🩶
Two orns now, and not a single glimpse of her. It was a long stretch to go without contact, even if that contact was as fleeting as a discrete brush when they passed in the halls. She wasn’t still with the same client? It wasn’t unheard of… but it wasn’t common for a patron to stay for such a long time.
She considered her options, how she might find a way to inquire about her lover’s location without giving anything away. Recollections of her encounter with the young mech from Vos flickered through her processor.
“I think I’d like to meet her.”
A pleased smile curved her lip components for a nano-klik before disappearing, and she made her way toward the Grand Salon, steps even and measured. Bypassing the guests and other courtesans, she maneuvered to the head of the room, where one of the Keepers stood monitoring activity.
Pausing when she reached the dias, she stood quietly until she was acknowledged. Seeing the slim mech wave a servo in her direction, she tipped into a slight bow. Head down, she inquired softly, “Greetings, Keeper Accelera. Might I have a moment?”
“What is it?”
“I have a patron who expressed interest in the femme who last performed at the Inner Theatre. When is her next available appointment?”
"That one is no longer available. Tell your client to see me and I will offer them similar alternatives.”
…
…
…
What?
Everything else fell away, her spark stuttering in her chassis at the implication in those words – said so flippantly. No longer available. The phrase used by Masters and Keepers when a courtesan was scrapped, but that wasn’t - it couldn’t… no.
No.
How?!
No! No! NO!!
From the corner of her optics, she saw the Keeper glance at her expectantly, and she forced herself to mutter a brief acknowledging response before turning away and striding from the room. She sought an empty lift, refusing to meet the gaze of any she passed. Her servos balled into tight, trembling fists behind her back, her stance wavering as she rode the pod to the upper floors. Once there, she identified a vacant room and slipped inside unnoticed, closing the door softly and pressing her forehead against the smooth metal. The rooms here were built to offer privacy, dampening almost all sound from within.
A sharp, keening wail escaped her as she sunk to the floor, helm shaking in denial.
Images of her lover’s smiling countenance as she looped her arm through that fuming guard’s own came back to her. Him. He had done this.
The anger was quickly swallowed up by guilt. She… had let it happen. She should have been the one to serve him that night. But her Star had stepped in… volunteered.
‘I never should have allowed it. This… is my doing.’
This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. They were supposed to escape this nightmarish place… find happiness together. She was a sweet, gentle spark, without an ounce of bitterness in her. She, above all others, had deserved happiness. Instead, she had met an ignoble end in this wretched place, her last moments spent alone, afraid, in pain. And they threw her away like scrap, like she was nothing.
She was everything… and now she was gone.
Her arms shook as she struggled to keep herself upright, eventually giving in, collapsing and pulling herself into a shuddering heap. Her outlook on their situation had always been far more pessimistic, but her darling lover had dispelled the darkness with her light. Tucking her chin against her chassis, she closed her optics, feeling the slim hope that had resided in her flicker out of existence.
Above all else, be safe, however you need to. With so much going on in the world at this time there is no shame in doing what you need to do to survive.
Hugs to you all!!
Happy TDOV, now more than ever 🩵🩷🤍
I love this so much. Louisa deserves a break. You go Isabella!
cactus beatdowns are definitely the answer to ppl making her sister do unnecessary labor
-> Honestly drowning in ideas rn. So many things have inspired me. As if seeing some of my fav pairings pump out hilarious scenario content wasn't enough, I have developed an unexpected love for Knockout/Starscream (thanks @sublimati0ns)?!
Going to try finishing navigation pages for the other blogs then try to make some art.
Neat
This concept for militarized testudines incredibles fabric textures for the neck and legs, which grant a semi-organic feel to the mechs.
“Mech Turtle” by Rofelrolf.
Pfft. She would absolutely say this...
Older pinup of mine I touched up, re-did Jack and Miko too
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
“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!”
We have always existed, and we always will.