Part 10🥀🩶
Part 10🥀🩶
FINALLY!! Blessed day! OC origin story finished in full... now to link them all together and move on to other things...
She stared up at the gilded tower, the structure a perfect representation of their society’s upper castes. It’s shining walls hid the rot within, greed and excess, cruelty and corruption… and the laboring functions bore the brunt of it all. Hate coiled in her like the serpent she had named herself for.
Sun having set, the night offered her additional cover as she breached the outside wall and advanced on the main building. The blades in her arms – having replaced the grapnels – were equally as useful in helping her maneuver quickly and accurately. With a few well placed shots she had scaled the tower, gripping the ledge of the same window she had used to escape this place. It wasn’t necessary, but she felt there was a symbolism to entering once again through the place from which she’d left.
The room was occupied, judging from the sounds coming from within. Slowly, carefully, she pulled herself up onto the sill, optics fixed on the pair draped across the berth. Her steps were measured, soft, making hardly a sound as she closed in. She did not recognize the patron. A broad mech, though not a member of the Guard. His plating was too thin for that, more for aesthetics than actual protection. How very ideal. Nearly upon them, she struck, unsheathing the blade from her wrist and driving it into the vulnerable spot next to his back strut. The keen edge slid through him with hardly any resistance, into the cavity in his chassis where his spark was housed. He hadn’t even had time to cry out in pain, offlining almost instantly. The mech beneath him, however, shouted in alarm.
Reaching out, she clamped her servo around his chin, hushing him. He seemed to recognize her after a moment, quieting.
“Tonight you are free. Take what you can and leave this place,” she instructed him, releasing him only when he gave her a curt nod, fear still evident in his optics. She rose from the berth, wasting no time in moving on to her next target.
There was no security in the halls, nor had there been any on the perimeter of the building. The Decepticon uprising had bred an army, and with the looming threat came a rise in demand for those to stand against them. Anyone who had even minimal combat experience had been drafted, which meant places like this – places that were unlikely to be targeted for attack – were left delightfully unguarded.
None would be spared from her wrath this night.
...//♡//…
Energon painted nearly every centihic of her frame, her pedes leaving prints against the tile as she stalked across the room. A part of her had hoped she would find the piece of slag who had stolen her lover away, but he was of course absent, likely on the front lines. She sneered. His end would have been one to savor. For now, this would have to suffice.
The old mech crawled away from her as fast as he was able… which wasn’t very fast at all considering she’d removed his legs. Grand Master of the Spire, the decrepit wretch who had placed the order to dispose of her beloved Star and then chastise her for daring to grieve. The one responsible for all of their pain and suffering. She had saved the best for last.
“You won’t get away with this! You’ll be apprehended, and the High Council will throw your useless frame into a cell to rust!” he hissed at her,
She continued to close in on him, unhurried, amused, and as she drew nearer his brave facade slipped away, fear taking its place. He tried a different approach.
“This… isn’t what you were meant for. I molded you as an artist does! With painstaking care and precision!”
At this point he had backed himself against a wall, and she knelt down to address him, her smile widening into something sinister.
“Care? Come now… you never cared for us. You only cared that we made you wealthy. As soon as we were no longer of use to you, you threw us away… like scrap. That’s not how an artist treats their work.”
The blade slid slowly from its sheath, singing faintly as it did. He cringed a the sight. Realizing there was no reasoning with her, his demeanor shifted again. Perhaps he thought to hurt her one last time.
“This won’t change anything. It won’t bring her back!”
The blade was against his throat cables in an instant, her face so close to his he could feel the heat radiating from her.
“This changes everything. This is the beginning of the end for bots like you. I might not get her back, but I can do everything in my power to ensure that others like us won’t have to live in fear anymore.”
Her glossa slipped from her intake, tracing a line of energon up the side of his face.
“And besides… this is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
He vented sharply, optics narrowing into pinpricks. “You’re a monster.”
“Yes… I am.”
Her one servo stayed raised, blade poised at his throat to keep him from moving, and the other slid up his chassis to the Crest of his House emblazoned so proudly above his spark. Her talons flexed outward, hooking securely along the edges of the raised plate before tearing it away. He cried out as she did so, and pleasure slid through her lines at the sound. The pads of her digits pressed into the small hollow she’d just created, feeling the softer metal beneath. Again she crooked her claws, piercing, pulling. This time, the sound that escaped him was ragged and agonized, rattling in his vocalizer. She grit her denta together as she savored his pleas.
Time slipped away as she pried him open bit by bit, his feeble attempts to stop her growing weaker and weaker as she rent him apart. Once the sounds of his protesting had stopped, it was only the squelch of energon and the snap of wires that filled the space between them.
Finally, once she’d had her fill, she pulled his mangled corpse to the front gate. There, she strung him up like a puppet over one side of the door, suspended by his own fuel lines. With the little energon he had left in him, she smeared a message on the opposing slab.
Rise Up.
Stepping back, she took in the sight of him one final time before turning and making her way across the courtyard to the outer wall. There was still much work to be done.
More Posts from Gutter-bot and Others
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 🩵🩷🤍
indi • semi selective • roleplay blog featuring TF Aligned Megatron
->This blog is still under construction. Further navigation will be added at a later time.
[BLOGROLL]
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->This blog and gutter-bot are my mains, these are the blogs you will be followed back from.
More under the cut...
[RULES & GUIDELINES]
This is an adults only blog. There are no exceptions. A variety of topics that are not fit for minors will be present.
No godmodding or thread hopping/hijacking. All interactions outside of asks/ask prompts are to be discussed prior, and interactions will be based on chemistry.
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[SHIPPING & INTERACTIONS]
I am pretty open to explore all kinds of ships with my muses, again - everything is based on chemistry. These ships do not have to be romantic. Please reach out directly through DMs to discuss.
!! In the event that I decline to rp, it does not mean you are a bad writer, I simply want to ensure I'm focusing on interactions that genuinely click. Nothing personal.
Please keep in mind these are characters and their views do not necessarily reflect my own. That being said, I will respond IN CHARACTER, apart from mun specific asks or in the DMs.
Megatron is a warlord. He's old and tired and sick of everyone's shit, and 36% of the time he's hopped up on space meth. Do not expect him to hold your hand and comfort you. Likewise, the other muses will respond in their own ways, just be prepared based on WHO you are choosing to interact with.
Love is Love... Blackarachnia is and always has been my favorite female Transformer. They did her so much justice in War for Cybertron I can’t even begin to express how pleased I am with her character portrayal. And the fact that she’s actively and openly into femmes is just *chefs kiss*.
Beauty!
Commission for dragonologist-in-training, who wanted Nautica and Brainstorm!
I’m very sorry for being late with this piece, so I’ve added extra doodles:>
I hope ya like them!
Edit: Right-click for bigger view!
I'm dying. Boy your eyes are insane!!
Human slang 101 (part 1/2)
Part 9 🥀🩶
Sweet baby Jesus only one more to go!! And then I PROMISE I will get to that KOBD drabble request 😭🙏
While she didn’t know much about the world outside of the brothel, there were two things she was certain of.
Firstly, she was a fugitive, and given the level of her crime, she knew they would send the Guard out to search for her. She would have to be cautious and alert at all times.
Secondly, while the grappling cables in her arms had allowed her to escape and offered her a quick and efficient means to get around, they were not weapons. She needed to find a way to arm herself if she planned on exacting revenge against those who had wronged her and her beloved.
So she kept to the shadows, listening, searching for word of the resistance and any potential allies that might aid her. It had taken her several deca-cycles to pick up on a single lead, and another several to find the bot in question. As she stood staring at the nondescript unit that matched the address she’d been given, she felt her spark flutter nervously.
Ex-venting, she glanced up the street discretely to see if anyone was watching her, and with a casual grace that belied the tumultuous storm of emotions she was experiencing, strolled toward her destination. Stepping into the shop, she paused to look around, noting the variety of work displayed along the walls. Near a desk, standing in stark contrast to much of the other pieces, was a form - fitted with intricate armor plating. She recognized the coloration and style instantly. This had been commissioned by a member of the Elite Guard. It would seem she had come to the right place.
“Can I help you?”
Turning away from the display, she replied, “I hope so. I’m looking for weapons.”
He gave her a once over, optic ridges raising in surprise. “You uhh… with the Council? Their order isn’t quite ready, but should be within the next few orns.”
She gave a small, pointed smile. “No… not the Council. I’ve been told you cater to… other clientele as well.”
He froze, servos dropping from his hips slowly. His expression wavered, and he stepped closer to the desk. His lower half was hidden, and she would bet just about anything he was currently reaching for a weapon of his own.
“Not sure whatcha mean, stranger,” he replied, the tightness in his tone not unnoticed to her. “My priority is the Guard. Anything outside of that will have to wait.”
She kept her servos open and visible, not wanting to give him cause for alarm. The fact that he was wary confirmed he was exactly the bot she was looking for. Based on what she’d been told, he operated as an industrial machinist before Kaon was captured by Decepticon forces. The same armory that supplied the gladiators with their resources had also forged much of the Elite Guard’s weaponry, and without access to it, they had been forced to source elsewhere. Which of course meant bullying local businesses into working almost exclusively for them, under fear of pain should they refuse. Some bots hadn’t been too fond of the treatment and harassment they received.
“I’ve been told you make exceptions… in the event that I provide you with this,” she continued, slowly reaching into her subspace and producing a single shanix, the glyph for the number thirteen carved crudely into one side. She placed it on the desk between them.
He stared down at it, his posture instantly relaxing. Then he glanced back up at her, optic ridges furrowing. “Hope you can excuse the defensiveness, I’m under near constant surveillance.”
Tipping her helm in understanding, she acknowledged, “It’s to be expected.”
“So… weapons, hm?”
Not willing to divulge too much, she chose a more vague approach. “I would like to join the fight, but am woefully unprepared to do so. I can’t linger too long.”
If there was one thing she had learned from her time in the brothel that seemed to ring true everywhere, it was that some bots were willing to pay just about anything to have a night (or two) with someone like her. She hoped he was one such bot. He was attractive, in a rough kind of way, something she didn’t get to experience much while locked away in that Pit-foresaken place. She was intrigued.
“I don’t have much in the way of wealth. You’re welcome to the meager shanix I’ve been able to procure, but I do have… other means of paying you for your work.”
He almost seemed startled by the request, the vents framing his face suddenly aglow. Recovering relatively quickly, he laughed, a low, pleasant sound. “There’s no need for that. I make sure to overcharge those uppity fraggers as much as possible for all the grief they cause. Which means any special work I do is covered, unwitting compliments of the High Council.”
The mech turned from the desk and reached for the console on the wall, pressing in the sequence to lock the front doors. Wouldn’t do for the wrong bot to walk in and find him out. As he did so, he threw over his shoulder offhandedly, “Besides… yer not quite my type.”
Her derma flashed, pleasant smile turning devious. She had suspected as much. “Oh?”
Plating shifted apart, components rearranging as her frame expanded.
“Not to offend, yer certainly easy on the optics, but I think I-”
The words fizzled out in his vocalizer as he turned back to address her again… only to find a mech standing in her place. The bot shared certain features (along with the color scheme), but was otherwise taller and broader in frame, nearly matching him in size. “Primus… what-?”
“If you won't accept payment for your services...”
The bot’s voice was mildly shocking, several octaves deeper, and as he moved around the counter the shop keeper felt his spark seize a little, spike stirring to life. Reaching out, the mech grasped his chin in a broad servo and leaned forward until their lip components were nearly touching.
“...you can consider this a tip, then.”
.../♡/...
“The quality of your work really is as good as they said it would be,” she observed as she studied her new, reinforced plating. He had an optic for details, each addition blending seamlessly. The metal, while thin enough so as not to be bulky, was strong, tempered and molded to perfection.
“Thanks. So, uhh… what’s your designation?”
The machinist’s inquiry gave her pause. No one had ever asked her for a name. She had never been given one. A courtesan had no need for it, after all… they were objects.
‘Maybe it’s time I took a designation for myself,’ she considered. Megatron had… yet… what would she call herself?
'My Scarlet Flower.'
Any version of the pet name given to her by her lover seemed inappropriate, and truth be told… didn’t feel quite right. At least not anymore. That part of herself - the soft, delicate part - had perished, along with the lovely white femme who had held her spark. She was determined to become something frightful, some dreaded entity … her designation ought to reflect that.
A memory flickered through her processor, of vicious fangs striking with unparalleled precision. Of course…
“Naja,”
“Naja?” he repeated.
The Spire had earned it’s reputation as a luxury establishment for many reasons. Their selection of courtesans was second to none, each hand forged and carefully trained to provide the ultimate experience in indulgence. Yet they were not the only menagerie housed within the glittering tower; a variety of exotic wildlife was kept there as well, for no reason other than novelty and rarity. They relied on a great number of suppliers to bring in new and interesting specimens, and on one such occasion, a collection of beautiful razor-snakes had been brought in for their consideration. The carrier had handled them with such confidence, displaying each one and describing their subclass and toxicity to the patrons present – and their accompanying courtesans. He'd assured the guests and Masters the beasts had all been de-fanged, and were safe handle. Apparently, they had missed a snake. The largest of the lot, a great shimmering thing with a flared hood that framed its angular face. The supplier had reached for her, and in a motion so fast none of them had perceived it, she struck him in the face, fangs sinking deep and injecting him full of corrosive acid. Within a matter of nano-kliks half of his helm was missing, sloughing off in a puddle of bubbling metal.
The memory had always stuck with her, not because she’d been afraid, but because she recalled how very beautiful the creature was, making it deceptive in it’s capacity to harm. Nodding to herself more than anyone else, she repeated the word again, testing it, enjoying the way it sounded.
“Yes… Naja.”
Stepping toward the door, she glanced over her newly armored shoulder. “It’s been fun.”
The sentence was said in his voice, and the machinist stammered a little, nodding and waving her off.
Exiting, she took to a narrow lane after ensuring the coast was clear, glancing down at her servos. More specifically, the gleaming, hooked talons that tipped them. An addition he had suggested. She crooked her digits, grinning when they extended before retracting once again. Made to snag, carve, rend. With these, along with the thin blades he’d outfitted her with, she could begin cutting her path through the corrupt upper castes. Vengeance was within reach, but before she could return to The Spire, she needed practice…
A newly sparked predator honed their skills hunting glitch-mice long before taking down larger game.
Ahead of her, further down the lane she was traversing, she watched as a group of laborers worked diligently on the construction of a new building, bustling without pause from one job to another. A snide looking femme with a distinct badge affixed to her arm - identifying her as an architect - moved about the site, pointing and shouting, speaking down to the laborers and even striking one. They all looked at her with a bitter fear in their optics, but did as she bid them, clearly aware that they would be further punished should they speak up against the higher ranking bot
What a perfect place to start...
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.
Ravage was one of my top favs in MTMTE so it was about time I got around to appreciating him more.
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