who wants to read about optimus prime dissasociating and hallucinating about megatron/d-16 and orion pax for 3.3k words!
---
there are expectations, of a prime. of duty- servitude. protection, guidance. he imagines it ought to be stifling- orion pax would have thought it so. optimus wonders if he should find it so as well.
strength is not only his duty, but his birthright. his purpose. war- conflict. protection. battle. he was born into it. he will die amongst it, he assumes.
---
like this, lowered to the ground, hydraulics weakened, gear-locks disengaged- he can almost imagine himself a body the memories of which are abstract and unfamiliar. smaller- sweeter, perhaps.
orion pax was not one to kneel, either.
still, this is as close as he can get to his once self.
there is a ghost, at the edge of his processor, two, if he allows them. three, if he wishes. His beginnings, his eternity, and his enevitible end.
---
red morphs into orange into gold. end into eternity into beginning. into memories that belong not to him- but memories he clings to nontheless
soft optics and a aggrieved smile. optimus is a mech who was born haunted. A ghost of something someone he once knew once knew.
a hand, open and gentle, servos almost brushing against his cheek.
just oh so slightly to the left. a slight tilt of the helm is all it would take to shatter the illusion in front of him.
he refrains. permits himself imagine the hollow sound of metal tapping against metal. instead of silence, air brushing by his finials
---
'you look like him, like this. You know.'
'like orion.' (lies)
If he could reply. bring himself to online his voice module, respond to this haunting of his own mind- of orions spark. what would he say?
orion is dead. you killed him
'It was orions fault, though.'
'he got in the way.'
yeah.
---
knelt low, servos curled to his thighs,fans halted and processes slowed.
Like this, optimus could almost be mistaken for a statue. not particularly serene, but -
there is a tension to him. he arose to war. forged for battle. it is inate.
---
If it had been orion in his place-
---
blue optics stare at up him, bright and sweet.
optimus wants to hate him, hate him almost as much as he pities him.
one half of his beginning.
a spark that lays within his own. intertwined- smothered, protected, maybe. he wonders how much of him is orion. how much of orion was him.
slowly coaxing closed. he will smother what is left, eventually. it is not a relief.
---
he loved you. He wants to say it, wants to online his optics and his vocals and see this non-existent spectre that has been passed onto him by orion pax.
wants to shout at it this truth that he was born into. wants to profess the love of a mech that died for his birth for a mech that died for the same over and over again.
as if that truth couldve changed anything, couldve saved d-16 and orion pax. couldve stopped the spark that resides in his chest from curling and twisting into that of a prime. into himself.
---
back into orange into red.
"I love you I love you I love you I love you"
It beats in his chest like a drum
not only had orion left him his ghosts, he had left his love, and as orion died and so rose optimus, so did d-16 die, and so rose megaton.
was it so strange, then? that the love that orion pax held so dearly to his spark, died as well, and so rose for optimus prime, love. as well?
---
blue shutters into life. He turns his attention elsewhere. He remains a coward. does not want to view the nothing that he knows is there.
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thinking about shockwave transformers and [Crack Baby - mitski]
he makes me. sofucking ill. first. the reason i associate the song with him the most;
these lyrics. these fucking. these lyrics. in refrence his emotions. his passion his love his hope.
(orion was his hope once.)
shockwave. senator shockwave. was so many things. but more than anything he was someone who wanted better. he wanted a better bench without a broken fucking leg in his garden he wanted a better senate he wanted a better world for his people.
and they took that from him. the senate looked at him looked at his hope and they took it. they took his face. (he had always been proud of his appearance. he would frequently change his paint and kibble. he liked looking pretty) and replaced it with a single eye, they took his hands, and gave him a gun and claws. for destruction- not the rebuilding he wanted for the world.
(blank open eues, one emotionless optic thag cant really 'close')
he was so many things and now all that is left is a holllow void where those things were and its like- do you think he knows. do you think he looks at cybertron. at optimus. recalls his memories and knows he should feel something?
he doesnt, though. doesnt feel anything anymore. knows he should. knows he wouldve. almost knows what it used to feel like the feeling in his chest the butterflies in his stomach but its all. gone.
he had it once. knows he should have it knows hes become something so far from what he once was knows that past him would hate the current him. knows he used to love.
he looks at those things. at the people he used to care about. at optimus. doesnt work, though. still empty still under the effects of that fucking surgery. still purple and one eyed and minus and arm and missing everything that once made him him
cotl grabbed me by the throat and hasnt yet letme go, have a short (500ish words) blurb i wrote about my lamb and why they eventually grew to betray narinder
there is a terror in knowing, the lamb has come to recognize. a terror in the knowledge of the future and past that no entity should have. a terror in knowing there is something. something beyond even the gods, which has set it sights onto the lamb. dug its claws in so deep, the lamb fails to understand where they begin and the entity ends.
the first time was confusing. the lamb had completed their duty. the purpose for which they had been granted life twofold complete.
and yet here they were, shackled again, become threefold become four.
they questioned it, at first, begged the god from which they derived existence to grant them knowledge, to tell them why they must live again, why he remains shackled, why the hearts of interlopers remain beating, when the lamb had spent eons ensuring otherwise.
but he did not understand. he claimed the lamb to new to his domain. freshly slaughtered.
what did a lamb know, compared to a god?
they accepted what was truth and continued on. no matter of visions or memories they had a duty. their birth was one destined to end in death, this they know and this they accept
they relinquish what is not theirs. they complete their duty
they awaken. shacked and pathetic. walking towards the faces of fallen gods they know well. they know the heart of these four, they know their deaths two times over. they will make it threefold
there is a horror. in knowing the rolls of dice. of knowing the exact movements of enemies, of knowing the name, the thoughts the prayers of a follower not yet recruited
the lamb continues on. they will complete their duty. The crown weights heavy on their brow. To be returned to its rightful place.
The lamb relinquishes what is not theirs.
They awaken shackled.
they are chained to this duty. their cycle. it is an honor awarded to no others. none else remember
they wonder if this is simply a dream. a cyclical reality held within the domain of their beloved. their god.
they awaken shackled. there is something behind them.
The lamb relinquishes what is not theirs. the cracking of their bones is still the same. they find a comfort in it. their flock screams.
They awaken shackled. there is an entity behind them. they do not turn their head.
it is familiar to them. they feel its hands guiding them forward, it feels sacrilegious
The lamb completes their duty.
They relinquish what is not theirs. the crown is lifted from their brow.
They awaken shackled. hands grasp at their neck.
They kneel. once again.
a familiar setting. it is pure, white. godly. the lamb does not belong here. they have been tainted, another watches them, they have forsaken their god, their benefactor by no will of their own.
a voice whispers at their ears. they cannot make out the words
They relinquish what is not theirs.
They awaken, shackled. there are hands at their neck, guiding their arms, pushing them forward. there is a voice at their ear.
The lamb completes their duty. they kneel and relinquish what is not theirs and they ignore the voice at their side, it is a voice of a smiling entity, it beckons them to disobey, to discard their purpose, to grow claws unnatural to their own flesh, and hold onto what is not rightfully theirs
The lamb awakens shackled. there is a voice at their side and a smile in the corner of their eyes.
