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primergon · 5 years ago

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our love has gone cold ,you're intertwining your soul with somebody else , optimus / fem!reader

Summary : “ I don’t think I can change the way I feel about you Prime,” You whispered in defeat, shrugging your shoulders. You look around, avoiding his gaze. You used to hate how you can never tell what he was thinking, but tonight, the expressiveness of his eyes – no, optics, nearly scared you.

The tall grass swayed with the wind, hypnotic under the half-moon looming above.

“ But we can’t always have what we want, can we?”

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: F/M

Fandoms: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime

Relationships: Optimus Prime/You, Optimus Prime / Reader, Optimus Prime & You

OPTIMUS was a giver.

He was kind, considerate, selfless. You can’t remember the last time he accepted anything for himself. His generosity had scared you at one point, because you can’t wrap your head around the fact that he would easily lay down his life for others, that he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt himself to protect you, that he would sacrifice everything for the sake of one person.

A Prime never puts himself first.

He was always the one to give, never to receive.

You watched him from afar, slowly approaching. Raf was the first one to spot you, and the child zipped past Miko and Jack, with a speed that would’ve given him a perfect grade in P.E, before hugging you. Soon enough, Jack and Miko followed – announcing your presence to the Base.

Once you peeled yourself away from the crowd of Autobots eager to greet you, you exchanged a few words with June, catching up on things. You and Ratchet even shared a few words, proving that it has indeed been a while since you visited.

In the end, your eyes landed on him, and you both shared a smile.

You spend the whole day with the kids, going on patrol and having lunch.

“ You’ve been traveling a lot, huh?” Miko clapped, leaning against your shoulder to look at your scrapbook. In under four months, you’ve managed to explore most of the cities in your country, earning yourself more than a handful of stories to keep the children entertained.

The afternoon peeled itself away, and before you know it, it was nightfall. You debated on whether you should ask Fowler for a ride or to ask Wheeljack to drop you off – but Optimus beat you to it, and here you are now, sitting with your legs tucked under your chin ( and shoes off, per request) against his driver’s seat.

The small crack by the window reminding just how cold the nights in Jasper could get.

“ Are you cold?” He asked, interrupting the silence.

“ Don’t worry about it.” You patted the steering wheel, “ I’m fine.”

Your fingers lingered against the surface, and you can feel the soft vibrations underneath, coaxing you to keep your hand there. Yet, you pulled away. There was a certain kind of tension in the air, an intruder to your usual routine. The silence suggested that you’ve only met him today, even if you’ve had known him for months.

As much as you wanted to talk with him, your mouth just doesn’t work the way it used to around him.

What happened? You thought. What happened between us?

Usually, the cab would be filled with chatter, paired with your obnoxious laughter – “ Admit it Prime, you find my laughing annoying.” He would always deny it, and you hated how genuine he sounded when he claimed that your laughter reminded him of home.

It was only natural for the silence to suffocate the both of you, it was only waiting until one of caved.

“ Are you doing well?”

You can’t help but scoff at that. “ That’s very ambiguous. Physically? I’m fine. Mentally? That’s debatable. Emotionally? Let’s not even go there.”

You let out a weak laugh, but it sounded strained, forced – and Optimus must’ve sensed this, because his driving began to slow.

“ How’s – how’s Team Prime holding up? Any news on the Decepticons?”

He hesitated, nearly tumbling on his own words – and that never ceases to amaze you. Optimus was always the one for powerful speeches and moving words, to see him so unsure was unusual. You used to find it amusing, using it to poke fun at him. Now, it only made you sad – for what specific reason, you still don’t know.

As the dirt road behind you disappear under his wheels, Optimus told you what had happened the past few months. In your absence, you seemed to have missed a lot, and the Leader was more than willing to keep you up to date. Yet, that still wasn’t enough to chase away the silence – which would fight for every opportunity to leak through the seams of your conversations.

Once he ran out of things to say, you were back to listening to the asphalt road crunching under his tires.

You felt awful for not saying something - anything, but you just can’t.

There was a weight anchoring your heart, an uncomfortable weight that prevented you from saying his name on your tongue. It was like a foreign language you can’t pronounce, and so you opted to stay quiet – even if you both had to suffer for it.

“ Do you have a place to stay tonight?”

Your eyes slightly widen, giving away your surprise. “ You remembered that I sold my house ?”

While it was true that you had told him about putting your house up for sale, you didn’t expect him to actually remember it. You couldn’t even vividly recall the exact moment you’ve told him, hinting that it must’ve been something you’ve peppered into your mindless babbling weeks – no, months, ago.

And he still remembers it.

“ I remember.”

You ignore the heaviness in your heart.

“ I’m…I’m staying with my boyfriend.”

His driving stopped.

It wasn’t spontaneous – no, only Wheeljack and Smokescreen stops out of the blue. You had actually gotten a bloody nose once because of Wheeljack’s driving. You’ve never seen Optimus so concerned.

When you’re with the Prime, he was careful to slow down before hitting the breaks. Yet, you could still feel the sudden tension in his frame, the metal sizing up beneath you.

There was a moment, and you were forced to listen to the crickets outside – their chirping noisier than the sound of your breathing.

“ I see.”

He didn’t move, and you wanted to call him out for it – but you yourself were stuck, glued against the seat.

“ Optimus…” You finally croaked out.

He started the engine, only to have you open the car door, stepping out immediately.

You walked out of the road, hiking up a hill. You didn’t have to turn around to know that he was following you, his footsteps sending tremors all over the ground. Throughout the walk, you let your mind wander.

Memories began to flood your vision – you could still feel his lips against yours, ghosting against the column of your neck. His hands were warm, circling your waist, pushing back your hair. If you close your eyes, you’ll be able to hear his whispers in the dark, tracing down your skin. You’ve memorized the sound of his laughter by now, his rare and genuine moments of joy. Even when he was with you – his laughter was rare, but that didn’t stop you from etching it to the back of your mind.

You were starting to regret it, because these days it was the only sound you can hear whenever you’re alone.

There was a small stream beside you, the water trickling down a clump of rocks. The grass brushed your ankles, the dew soaking the socks peeking out of your shoes. Here, the isolation was enough to hide his towering frame from prying eyes.

You both stared at each other, waiting.

“ I’m glad to hear that…you are happy.”

For some reason, you hated how indifferent he sounded, how calm and collected he seemed. You wrapped your arms around yourself. At his words, you let out a chuckle.

Happy.

Were you happy?

You’ve only met your boyfriend a month ago. It was sudden, it was spontaneous, it was so unlike you – yet you didn’t have the heart to admit that it was more convenient than wanted. When things ended between you and Optimus, it was as if you’ve been pushed out of a boat and into the water. Out of fear, out of desperation – you’ve been trying to grab onto things to keep yourself afloat.

As cruel as it sounds, your boyfriend just so happens to be there. In the end, you’ve committed an act of selfishness, all because Optimus was too selfless to let you stay.

“ How do you know I’m happy?”

He raised his eyebrows at this.

The leaves rustled above you, shaking its branches against the breeze. “ I guess, I can be happy with him. He treats me well. He brings me flowers, he drives me home, he kisses me.”

At this Optimus tore his gaze away, staring at the flowers peeking out of the bushes.

“ I can be happy with him.” You ducked your head. “ But not as happy as I was with you.”

There was a stinging behind your eyes, trying to force out your tears – but you didn’t want to cry. Not now, not in front of him. Not when you know he could no longer bring himself to wipe them away, so you settled for tipping your head back, furiously blinking away the itch.

Your fingers wiped the corners, and you cleared your throat.

“ I can’t ask this from you.”

He sounded so defeated, so helpless, and you hated that. He was Optimus Prime, Leader of the Autobots. The symbol of hope, resistance, courage – so why did he sound so terrified standing before you?

You hated it.

“ Who made it your decision? It was mine too.” You argued, stepping forward. “ Yet, you didn’t even give me a chance to choose.”

Primes. You were a fool to think that you can offer him anything greater in magnitude than his primacy, than his duty, than his responsibility. When it comes to Optimus, you should have known that you could never be anything other than a liability.

A Prime is a martyr – a savior who needs to be willing to throw himself into the fire when asked. The fact that he was starting to second guess his choices when you came along was enough to scare him into ending things with you.

It was as if the thought of being selfish, even for a little bit, terrified him.

“ I don’t think I can change the way I feel about you Prime,” You whispered in defeat, shrugging your shoulders. You look around, avoiding his gaze. You used to hate how you can never tell what he was thinking, but tonight, the expressiveness of his eyes – no, optics, nearly scared you.

The tall grass swayed with the wind, hypnotic under the half-moon looming above.

“ But we can’t always have what we want, can we?”

When your eyes met, his expression was enough to make you cry. Even when you were back inside his cab, you couldn’t shake off the wounded look. For a fragment of a second, his face had shifted into one of sadness, longing, grief, regret.

Yet, he’s made his choice.

It was time for you to make yours.

When you reached home, your boyfriend was by the porch waiting for you. You had climbed out, thankful that the shadows paired by the distance concealed the empty driver’s seat. He looped his arms around your waist, twirling you around.

Your boyfriend leaned down to kiss you, and you complied, catching his lips. You spent some time by the walkway, with him embracing you. With your boyfriend’s back against the red and blue rig, you were able to watch Optimus parked under the trees – your eyes catching the way his side-view mirror reflected the tender moment.

You could almost imagine his expression, and that was enough for you to pull your boyfriend into another kiss, leaving you to listen to the sound of him driving away into the night.

That night, a part of you wished he had intervened. You wished that he had given in into his desires, into his want, into his selfishness – yet he didn’t, and you spent the entire night trying to shrug off your disappointment. You turn your body towards the window, watching as the curtains flutter against the breeze.

You could no longer feel the weight of the body next to you, and here, tonight – you feel more alone than you’ve ever been.

Optimus was a giver, you tell yourself.

He was kind, considerate, selfless. You can’t remember the last time he accepted anything for himself. Now, under the silver glow of the moon and the stillness of the night, you can remember why you were afraid of his generosity in the first place.

Optimus was a giver.

Then why does it feel like he had just taken something away from you?

A/N : I listened to The 1975′s Somebody else while writing this :,)

Will you look at the time, its sad O'clock. I love this song so much and it gave me the inspiration to write this one shot. I'm so sorry that I keep putting my characters in the same scenery, I'll try to be more diverse in my choice of...environment ? Tundra ? Setting. Yes, I'll try to explore different settings. I hope you guys like this, because I have major feels for OP and let's face it, the guy is always dying !!!

No one : Absolutely no one : Optimus : Due to personal reasons, I will be passing away

Like ??? Why ?? You did this, for what ??

Major martyr complex. This is something I had fun exploring, hope you're all well !

( If you want to submit a request, we can discuss it through my Instagram : @/primergonn ! If you don't have instagram, then feel free to leave it here, it'll show up in my inbox <3 )

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wings-of-a-storm · 7 years ago

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Guys, there has been so much good discourse about Martino’s season on here! So much so that it is hard to think of anything left uncovered. Still, in these long days since the season ended, I’ve found myself swimming in thoughts when watching certain clips.

I used to be blocked from the tag this post might not even make it in (cheers Tumblr) and was never able to really offer up my own thoughts at the time, but I’ve been writing some stuff down finally. So if any of you are interested in going back down the rabbit hole with me and immersing yourself in the artistic genius that is Skam Italia, then here goes with my first (of hopefully several) deep dives.

SKAMITA DIVE NO.1

To this day, there is one clip that I both love and hate watching -- to the point of never knowing which sensation is going to win out. Naturally I must take a deeper look at it to figure out why it has such power over me.

That clip is Ammucchiate (3.5).

So many things about this clip fascinate me. Seriously. So many things. In this essay I will look at:

1A) The Couch Scene. I seriously love/hate this clip. The whole tone felt like a departure from the og (and that isn’t a bad thing, it just raises very different emotions in me). In fact, it feels like the whole point of the couch scene was changed in Skam Italia. It makes for very interesting viewing.

1B) Niccolò’s emotions. Ie. how very differently Niccolò reacts to Emma compared to what I was used to with Even. I love a character study.

2) The supreme UST going on between Niccolò and Martino.

3) How the absence of Earl Sweatshirt references both changes and doesn’t change Martino’s interaction with Emma (and infatuation with Niccolò).

TONE REVERSAL OF THE COUCH SCENE

What absolutely fascinates me is how the whole tone (and perhaps point) of the couch scene felt reversed in Italia. In og, it felt like Isak had a fairly therapeutic experience with Even on the couch, but Martino’s experience with Niccolò felt rather unpleasant. It was such an interesting divergence!

Let me explain. In og, Even’s conversation with Emma about labels was so important for Isak to hear. This new perspective on the ‘gay’ label coming from a wise older boy whom Isak admires would have helped with some of Isak’s internalised homophobia (with the added benefit of showing Isak that even if Even was actually straight and Isak had just imagined his chemistry with him, Isak could still trust Even not to judge him). All up, it felt like a pretty positive moment for Isak on that couch. The way he listened so intently to Even’s wisdom was gorgeous.

In Italia though, Niccolò ended up using the debate with Emma as a vehicle to test Martino’s sexuality -- in a way that put so much pressure on Martino and came across as almost shaming him for being in the closet. It felt like Niccolò was maybe trying to tell Martino 'I know you're not as straight as you like to appear' while testing his reaction to make sure his hunch was right. But it felt so unkind to do that to Martino in front of Emma. Was Niccolò just so pressed that Martino was giving Emma attention, he tried to force the truth from Martino? To get Martino to admit that Emma was just a smokescreen, so Nico could feel better about his chances? It was so uncomfortable to watch, whatever the reasoning…

I mean, boy can you see the differences in Isak and Martino’s faces: Isak engaged in a healthy new perspective VS Martino disconnecting in discomfort:

I really didn’t like the way Niccolò was pushing Marti and even smirking at him, but I’d be lying if I said the changes to the tone of the scene didn’t fascinate me. If I had to sum it up, I’d suggest that in Italia, it feels like the couch scene was meant to be less about helping Martino deal with his internalised homophobia and more about being one long set of UST challenges between Niccolò and Marti. Or rather, Niccolò trying to challenge Marti (pick me not Emma!) and Marti not giving into him. That, and Niccolò being unable to contain his jealousy.

Let’s start with the jealousy.

NICCOLO & HIS EMOTIONS

Subjective fact: Even is cool and collected when dealing with Emma.

Subjective fact: Niccolò is a jealous force to be reckoned with when dealing with Emma.

For a clip that ticked off all the important scenes from og, it couldn’t be more apparent how different Niccolò is to Even in this clip. In og, Even catches Emma (who is very obviously immature) falling into the danger of making generalisations and draws her into a polite debate. He remains very calm and collected through it, so it comes across as him intrinsically wanting to call her out on a troubling mindset (one that would affect Isak) and show her a different perspective. (With the bonus of proving to Isak how much cooler he is than her.)

In Italia, Niccolò heard Emma make a generalisation and just kind of pounced on her. The tone he uses and the look he gives her is of such irritability. The shift in his emotions felt so immediate; he was ready to cut her down and even got into battle position. It kind of felt like he was pouncing on her for the sake of pouncing on her -- ie. the debate he instigated became an outlet for some of the bitterness he had been harbouring towards her as his rival. In other words, their debate felt more about him than about sending Martino any secret message.

I mean that “Hm” before getting into battle position! It was such a ‘hold my gloves’ moment. I was preparing to duck for cover because he seemed so pressed! At the time I was just like: Woah, my son, I know Emma said something dumb but this is not the way to call her out on it -- you’re escalating the situation instead of having a healthy discussion! But now I think it was a really clever way to demonstrate how Niccolò handles emotions/how his BPD might amplify his emotions/how mercurial he can be.

OR - because there are too many goddamn ways to interpret someone's reactions - was Nico trying to defend Marti? He knows (or hopes) Marti is in the closet and generalisations/labels like that from Emma would give Marti a harder time. Was Nico just being: YOU KNOW NOTHING, JON SNOW to her? Less likely since Nico added his own jab at the end, but possible.

Side note: I have to confess that even though Nico being a bit of an ass makes me uncomfortable, his ‘why the hell are you still here’ look when Emma keeps talking remains one of my favourite Nico expressions of the season. It makes me laugh every time. (That, plus going all Moses/red sea on them was A+.)

But why was Nico pushing Marti so much on the couch? Oh let me analyse you, complex clip of wonder.

MARTINO AND NICCOLO: THE ‘UST’ PUSH AND PULL

It kind of feels like Niccolò’s continual challenging of Martino’s self-image and sexuality on the couch was a way for Ludo to keep upping the ante of their UST and make us anticipate whether they were going to actually do something about it. The clip is called Ammucchiate/accumulate, after all. It felt at times like Niccolò was pushing Martino, daring him to drop Emma for him: ‘I know you aren’t straight, why are you bothering with her when you can have me?’ But Martino kept pulling back and standing his ground. And that became their alternating push and pull dance all night.

Let’s rewind for the full UST experience: Niccolò arrives at the party and basically hands Maddelena over to the girl squad so he is free to go find Martino. You can see the sly dog knew exactly where Martino was (did you see how quickly his head turned not just in the exact direction but to the exact friggen degree!). Here is where interpretations can get murkier though -- from that distance and with Martino’s reflective glasses, it isn’t clear whether they actually make eye-contact (from Nico’s perspective, at least) before Martino grabs Emma and kisses her. Still, Martino suddenly launching himself at Emma wasn’t exactly subtle. It was a tad over the top, so surely Nico would have been at least a little suspicious?

It would mean that Niccolò has to decipher Martino’s actions though. Is it Martino just in the closet, trying to play the straight guy in front of everyone (this is coming off the cold reception Niccolò got in front of Martino’s friends earlier in the week, after all); is it Martino using Emma to prove to Niccolò that he isn’t some pathetic loser pining after him (but actually is); or is it Martino genuinely into Emma? Because although there had been chemistry between Nico and Martino, there might have been with Emma as well when Nico wasn’t around. Like ‘You were an option, Nico, but so was Emma and I’ve chosen her because you have a girlfriend’.

Nico would be hoping it is everything but the latter but the only way to find out would be to: A) get them to stop kissing (obviously the number one priority!) and then B) test Martino the first chance he gets.

So he goes straight to them and comes up with a line and excuse (karaoke -- but with all three!) to get them to stop kissing (because hell no!). And just in case the line isn’t enough, he enacts his fail-safe plan: physically separating them with his own body. I love that he was so thirsty for Martino (and perhaps territorial?), he also found excuses to actually touch his thigh, put his arm around him, do the eyebrow wiggle, and pat his shoulder on two separate occasions. What a pro. He does something similar in Halloween and you bet I’ll be doing another post on that because I looooove it.

The problem is Marti is standing firm on the anti-karaoke thing. And somehow this annoys Nico? You can see there was little mirth when Nico more or less accuses Marti of internalised homophobia/being in the closet (even though Nico tried to disguise it towards the end).

Did Marti’s refusal touch a nerve for Nico because he genuinely wanted to do karaoke with Marti and bond with him (and shut Emma out somehow in the process)? Did Nico panic a bit because it felt like Marti was pulling away from him instead of being up for anything like he was used to Marti being? Or was Nico just starting to feel irritable in general because of Emma’s presence and was losing his patience with the grey area between him and Marti? So he started to push Marti to get answers and didn’t stop at the in-the-closet accusations, going on to basically call Marti gay to his face. Nico seemed so smug after seeing Marti’s reaction to the ‘boring gay’ comment, like: ‘Gotcha! You are into me!’

I’m trying to figure out why Nico was pushing Martino so darn hard though. Did he think he would never stand a chance against Emma while Marti is in the closet so he needs to push Marti out of it? Or was he just being gelosa in culo because he was worried that Marti might actually have feelings for Emma and it’s easier to pick the pretty girl than the impossibile guy? So his jealousy got the better of him?

Of course, there is one other possibility. Nico might not have been annoyed-annoyed; he could have been concerned that Marti might have been rejecting a fun activity out of fear. In that case, his calling Marti out on that fear might have been him trying to help Marti be himself.

Either way though, Nico seemed to be challenging Marti on that couch to give up the pretense (and pick him).

But Niccolò’s meddling efforts are for nothing because the two of them leave him to dance together anyway. Nico lost the unspoken challenge he threw out to Marti (admit you’re not straight and drop Emma for me). I love the brutal shot of them walking away from Nico in favour of spending time without him. You really feel that sting as he sits alone on the couch. (He kind of deserved it though...)

The lost challenge means that Nico has to watch Martino and Emma make out AGAIN on the dance floor though. And he is so over it. His stare was so fierce! I can’t even tell where his jealousy at watching Martino kiss Emma ends and his ‘one day I am going to kiss you like this’ determination begins.

But Marti doesn’t stop kissing Emma despite their mutual eye-f---ing. He and Marti are having a thing but it’s a stalemate, so once again Nico is kind of losing. It’s incredible that we actually get to see the effect Martino kissing Emma has on him (which was missing in the og); how he and Maddelena actually stopped kissing because Nico was so vexed/upset/distracted. (I wonder if his insecurities were flaring up here: that maybe in the end he just isn’t good enough for Marti.)

Their mutual staring was obviously the peak of their UST/challenging-each-other game and I have come to accept that the dark lighting was a good choice to emphasise that tension/seduction. I still can’t get over Nico’s laser-beam stare or how Marti was the one to start the whole thing.

But then their lust battle is interrupted by Silvia’s Parental Crisis. And surprise surprise, Nico finds a way to get close to Martino again -- he just happens to be close by when Marti needs help carrying the garbage bags out. What a coinkydink.

So hallelujah and small mercies, it is finally just the two of them outside. Nico can try to breach that distance between them and, you know, try and bring back their flirty dynamic to deal with all the intense UST. But how to start that process? The best Nico can think of is an “Elio~” tease. That will break the ice and give Nico a chance to explain about Maddelena -- that their relationship isn’t working anymore (for him at least). But he can’t leave her... (Side note: I love how personally affronted Marti seems at that, like it should have been a done deal even though he and Nico aren’t actually together.) There is no way Nico can explain to Marti why he can’t leave Maddelena though; there is no way Marti can ever know about Nico’s BPD. The best he can do is disguise both of those truth bombs as a joke.

But the silly story/projection of his own fears ends and Nico is still stuck at square one. The distance has lessened but it’s still not where Nico needs it to be. He needs to find the courage to make a move before he loses this window of opportunity.

What could test the waters while making it obvious how Nico feels about Marti? A gentle stroke of his pinky. It’s innocent enough to explain away if things go wrong, but if it goes right, it can lead to more.

And it does go right. And Marti’s lips move into that brief pout as if he is subconsciously asking for a kiss. So finally, finally, after all that pushing and pulling all night, Nico can lean in to kiss him like he has been wanting to for so long. And Marti is smiling back at him; he wants it too. It is the best feeling.

Until reality intrudes again and they don’t get a catharsis to the UST. But it’s okay -- because at least Nico knows now that Marti is definitely into him. That will be enough for him until they can be alone again…

End challenge battle. Until Halloween.

But guuuuys, he chose a gentle pinky touch! After all the mean jabs on the couch and intense laser-beam staring on the dance floor, he goes for the sweetest, most softest thing. It stands out so much; like under all the bravado and lusty stuff, this is the precious, fragile emotion that was hiding.

I used to feel conflicted about how abrasive things felt at the party, but maybe it actually works if it helps emphasise the softness of the beautiful pinky-touching moment.

Before I leave this Ammucchiate analysis behind though, there is just one more change in the couch scene that I had thoughts on: how the lack of NAS/Earl Sweatshirt references does and doesn’t change Martino’s interaction with Emma (and infatuation with Niccolò).

ONE LAST CHANGE: MIA EARL SWEATSHIRT

In the og, my favourite part of the couch scene was actually Isak and Emma talking about NAS (yes, I liked it over the Even stuff even). I loved that it made Even present; that Even was there between them on that couch long before he physically joined them. That Even was always on Isak’s mind; that that was how much he had affected Isak. Because of course Isak had never heard of NAS before that day in Even’s bedroom, yet suddenly it was his favourite artist and how could Emma not know of his music? Isak wants to like what Even likes; it means they are connected. So even though Isak is trying to bond with Emma, it is still all about Even in the end.

I relate SO MUCH to that. I have done exactly that in my high school days. It felt like such an insightful demonstration of what being infatuated with someone can be like.

So when Marti and Emma were discussing their musical interests on the couch in Italia, I was disappointed (at first) that Marti didn’t nominate Earl Sweatshirt. I was waiting for his full blown infatuation to show, for Nico to be present without being present. But no, Marti stuck to his long-term favs (kudos to that, actually) and Emma knew who those artists were. Because she is also different to her og character and has far more in common with Marti than og Emma did. That ups the stakes for poor Nico and presents her and Marti as a potentially compatible couple.

I realised I liked that Ludo makes these small changes to make his characters different people. Sure it was a shame that I couldn’t have my ‘Nico is present without being present and that is typical infatuation’ moment, but Marti basically being on the lookout for Nico fulfilled a similar vibe and--

OH THAT’S RIGHT. Ludo was keeping it for another episode where it would actually HURT. (We can’t have nice things. What’s the fun in that? They always have to hurt!)

I’m of course referring to Marti listening to Earl Sweatshirt on his way to school in Assenze (6.1). AFTER Nico had broken up with him. AFTER he had caught Nico kissing his supposedly ex-girlfriend as if Marti meant nothing. AFTER feeling betrayed by Nico. AFTER a week of depression and self-imposed isolation.

I mean, wow. After all that, Earl Sweatshirt was Martino’s musical comfort; the artist that helped him find the nerve to get out of his house and back to school. I know Isak also used Even’s NAS to go back to school (such an iconic scene), but unlike og, we didn’t even know if Marti liked Earl Sweatshirt or bothered listening to him after Nico’s lounge-room introduction.

That is of course until we hear Marti listening to him after Nico broke his heart. And if that doesn’t pack a punch...

Like, had Marti been listening to Earl Sweatshirt all week? Had Marti actually been lying in bed, listening to Earl Sweatshirt songs because he so desperately wanted to feel connected to Nico? Because he wasn’t ready to let him go? Because he was missing him so much despite everything? And that is when he started to really connect with Earl Sweatshirt’s music to the point of using it to steel himself to go back to school?

My heart just cannot take this.

So yeh, I’m fine now that Earl Sweatshirt wasn’t referenced in Ammucchiate, but rather saved up for lethal detonation later on (I’m such a masochist, ugh).

And yes, another reason why we didn’t really need an Earl Sweatshirt reference in Ammucchiate is because technically we can claim a role reversal: that Marti was the one ever-present on Nico’s mind because he came to the party in a Marti/Marty McFly-esque outfit. I was well fed and I didn’t even know it.

So that takes me to the end of my thoughts on Ammucchiate. I didn’t mean for it to get so long, but if you’ve read this and have your own thoughts please do let me know. :)

#Skam Italia #SkamIta S2 thoughts #Nicotino #my need to overanalyse must be stopped #this is seriously long son #Skamita deep dive #martino rametta #niccolò fares

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pipermca · 7 years ago

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More. Raw, unedited, read at own risk. Prequel to The Renegade and the Hound, contains spoilers for that story. This chapter may contain sads.

Vorn 0. Vorn 1. Vorn 3. Vorn 5.

Vorn 8

The procession route from the palace to the Temple was lined with citizens from all walks of life, from the highest-ranking nobles to the poorest gutterspawn who got by only with the help of others. It felt as though every mech in the capital had turned out. It was a stunning display of solidarity and unity.

Prince Smokescreen wished that none of it was happening.

The charade that Prince Silverstreak had vanished while hunting had reached its inevitable conclusion. By law, after being missing for seven vorn, the Prince must be declared dead so that the Articles of Succession could be altered. His designation would be removed from the Royal Scroll, and the line of succession would be updated to exclude him.

The King resisted, insisting that they take more time to look for his missing creation. Of course, the public searches were carried out in the wilderness of Praxus, in places where the young Prince may have gone hunting. Behind the scenes, the Temple had continued looking for full-framed Praxians outside of the walls of Praxus, but had found no definitive sign of the Prince. But eventually, King Cygnus was forced to agree to the changes to the line of succession.

However, he had resisted holding a funeral for the Prince until it was finally forced upon him.

The King walked slowly down the procession route, his door wings hung low on his back. Lord Caelum walked beside him, grasping the King’s hand tightly. They each held a torch that had been lit in the palace courtyard from the Eternal Flame, symbolizing the light of the Prince’s spark being escorted from his old home in the palace to the Temple. Both the King and his Consort were draped in black mourning cloaks.

Behind them walked the two remaining Princes, Smokescreen and Prowl, who also held torches and wore black cloaks. Prowl’s optics were fixed ahead; Smokescreen wasn’t sure whether he was staring at the back of Lord Caelum’s helm, or at the low rise of the Temple that they slowly walked towards. Out of the corner of his optics, Smokescreen looked at the mechs who stood in silence as the Royal family passed. He recognized some faces, nobles and commoners alike, all of whom knew and loved the missing Prince.

Smokescreen lowered his optics to the ground. Silverstreak had cared for others freely and openly, concerned more with what he thought was right than what was proper or expected. Smokescreen had sworn that he would do all he could to carry on Silverstreak’s work, even after he became King. Even if the Temple disapproved.

As they approached the Temple gates, an amplified voice echoed out over the crowds. “From Primus we come. To Primus we shall return.”

A murmur swept through the crowd, repeating the prayer. Smokescreen found that his vocalizer emitted only clicks, so he closed his mouth and remained silent.

The procession was led into the Temple grounds, where a funeral pyre had been erected in the center of the gardens. If this had been a real funeral – Smokescreen refused to believe that Silverstreak was actually dead – the royal frame of the deceased would have been laid atop the pyre. With no frame to burn, a deactivated prize torbuk had been laid atop the pyre in his place.

Seeing the dead torbuk in his brother’s place made the whole event seem even more surreal to Smokescreen.

High Priest Barricade stood near the pyre, his door wings held high. His white stole was twined with a black mourning cord, and he held his staff at his side. “We gather to commend Prince Silverstreak’s spark to Primus.” He nodded to the Royal family members, who took their places in front of the pyre.

The King’s face was an impassive mask. King Cygnus had hid himself in his quarters for the cycles leading up to the funeral, and Lord Caelum had spent much of that time by his side. Smokescreen knew that Triage had dosed both the King and Lord Caelum with a calming charm so that they would not break down during the ceremony. He watched closely as the King lowered his torch to the pyre, transferring the flame to the flammable kindling. Quietly, so low that only Caelum and Smokescreen could have heard him, the King said, “Primus, please guide my creation’s spark to your side.”

Lord Caelum touched his torch to the pyre next, repeating the same phrase, only louder. “Primus, please guide my creation’s spark to your side.” As his torch caught the kindling, Caelum lifted his helm and watched the sparks fly into the air.

Smokescreen and Prowl used their torches to light their kindling bundles as well. “Primus, please guide my brother’s spark to your side.” Smokescreen watched the flames catch the main structure of the funeral pyre for a few moments before offlining his optics. The image of the sparks rising into the night sky made his own spark twist in its casing.

Lifting his staff and looking to the sky, Barricade intoned, “Primus, you gifted this bright spark to us for such a short time. Now, protect it. Grant this spark your protection and guidance.”

Letting the High Priest’s words wash over him, Smokescreen thought of the last time he had seen his brother. Smokescreen had been preparing to leave on a hunt, and the youngest Prince had gestured at Smokescreen’s weapon. “You could request a better weapon, you know,” he had said. He picked up Smokescreen’s rifle and checked that the magazine was empty, then expertly checked the weapon’s sights. “I think this thing is as old as I am!”

Smokescreen had shrugged. “I’m not expecting to bag anything,” he said. He took the rifle back from his brother. “This is purely a social activity.”

Silverstreak had laughed, his smile coming easily to his lips and optics as it always did. “Fair enough! But let me know if you change your mind. I’m sure that your brother the High Commander of the First Praxian Cavalry Division would be able to requisition something a little more reliable for the heir to the kingdom.” He nudged his elbow into Smokescreen’s shoulder as he passed him. “Have a good hunt, Smokey.”

“Thanks, Streaks,” Smokescreen had replied. He hadn’t watched his brother leave the room, never expecting those were the last words he would exchange with him.

A vibroflute began to play, and the crowd around the funeral pyre lifted their voices in the Song for the Fallen.

Opening his optics, Smokescreen saw that the pyre was fully engulfed in flames. He watched the sparks soar upwards towards the stars, into the heavens.

Smokescreen had dragged a chair out onto his balcony. He knew that his head attendant would likely tut disapprovingly of moving the furniture around by himself, but Smokescreen hadn’t really been in the mood to wait for someone to do it for him.

He slouched down in the chair, his helm thrown back to look up at the night sky and his feet propped up on the railing to his balcony. His left hand rested on his chest, while his right hand hung over the side of the chair. He twirled an empty glass between his digits carelessly.

Smokescreen had hoped that the few (three? four?) glasses of high grade would help him forget. Instead, it seemed only to have made him remember more.

“Do ya think he’s still out there?” he asked. He twirled the glass through his digits again, then lifted it to his optics. He debated getting up to get more. Then he wondered whether he would actually be able to walk to get the refill.

Hearing only silence after his question, Smokescreen lolled his helm to the side to look at his brother. Prowl sat slumped in another chair that had been dragged onto the balcony, a glass in his own hand. He looked out over the gardens with unfocused optics.

“Prowl. I said... Do ya think Streaks is still out there?” Smokescreen asked again, speaking carefully so as not to slur his words.

“I heard you,” said Prowl quietly and without anger. “I was simply figuring out how to respond to your question.”

Satisfied that Prowl would eventually answer him, Smokescreen looked back up at the stars spattered across the inky darkness above him. A meteor streaked by overhead and Smokescreen frowned. It was said that meteors were really the sparks of the dead, watching over their loved ones below. Considering how he had spent the evening, it wasn’t a superstition he wanted to give any credence at the moment.

After several kliks, Smokescreen heard Prowl shift in his seat. He turned his helm to look at Prowl again. “I do not have enough information to determine whether Silverstreak may still be alive,” Prowl said. When Smokescreen opened his mouth, Prowl held up a single digit to silence his brother. “However, if he is still alive... If he is still out there... I sincerely pray that he is safe and out of harm’s way.” Prowl finally turned his helm to look at Smokescreen. “We have seen what happens to full-framed Praxians who have discovered that the outside world is not the paradise they imagine.”

Smokescreen frowned, and then shuddered thinking of the horrors they had discovered over the past several vorn. The increased focus in trying to find Prince Silverstreak had the side effect of revealing many other full-framed Praxians who had run from their Temple-mandated obligations and the oppressiveness of life inside the walled country.

Among the mechs who had been brought back by the collection squads were slaves. The exotic nature of the rare Praxian frametype drew high prices in the black market. Many of these mechs had returned without struggle, happy to have been freed from their chains by the collection squads.

Investigations in Kaon had discovered that at least three full-framed Praxians had been pressed into the fighting pits. All of them had been killed within their first vorn of being tossed into the matches. The frame of one of them hung at the entrance of the most infamous pit, pinned spread-eagled over the doorway as an advertisement of the brutal fights within.

And one pure Praxian had been found in a brothel in Tarn. He was not there by choice; rather, the brothel had advertised his frame as their “most exotic offering,” and mechs paid a high price for a few groons with him. After he had been freed, he refused to speak, and screamed whenever anyone touched him. Only after several vorn of careful nurture had he been able to reveal the awful brutality of how he had been used, but he still would not permit anyone to touch him for any reason.

Smokescreen sent a silent prayer to Primus that none of those fates had befallen his brother.

Prowl heaved himself to his pedes with a grunt, then paused by Smokescreen’s chair. “I’m getting another drink,” he said, holding out his hand. “Did you want a refill?”

Smokescreen nodded and held out his glass. He heard Prowl walk back into his quarters, then emerge a klik later with two full glasses. “I’ve never seen you drink this much,” Smokescreen said as he accepted the drink. “You’re going to wake up with an awful hangover at this rate.”

“So are you,” said Prowl. “But it’s helping to dull the pain.” He held his glass up. “To Silverstreak.”

Smokescreen held up his glass. “To Silverstreak.” He lowered his glass and took a sip. “Wherever you are,” he added softly.

#my writing #smokescreen #prowl #tf prowl #fanfic #serial fiction

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