#I alone on Cybertron and beneath the cosmos am the one who has the vision of Primus himself

[quetzalpapalotl]

I love Katana To Saya as a megop song because, being about someone whose life meaning lies in battle enganging in a battle to the death with their fated rival as an act of love, is just fitting, you know? And there are many lines that suit these two, but right now I'm thinking about the song citing 天上天下唯我独尊

Tenjō tenge yuiga dokuson (Jap.). ‘Above heaven, under heaven, I alone am worthy of honour’, a statement which Zen Buddhists believe was made by the Buddha Śākyamuni after his enlightenment. Far from being self-aggrandizing, it is a subtle statement of the realization that all appearances in the universe share the same buddha-nature (busshō) and are equally empty of self (śunyatā).

And from another source

In Buddhist legend, the phrase that Shakyamuni uttered right after he was born and on his feet taking seven steps about, pointing at heaven with his right hand and at earth with his left. This phrase seems to be a more condensed translation of what the Buddha was supposed to say. Compare the Pali aggō hamasmi lōkassa, jeṭṭō hamasmi lōkassa, seṭṭhō hamasmi lōkassa, ayamantimā jāti, natthidāni punabbhavo from the Dīgha Nikāya. A slightly different form is 天上天下唯我為尊, from a Chinese translation of the Dīrgha Āgama. Although the phrase sounds extremely arrogant, especially given that the one who purportedly said it was the founder of Buddhism, and it is indeed used to describe hubris, the 我 (“I/me; self; ego”) could be interpreted as "humans" in general instead of the Buddha alone, expressing a human-centric attitude in a country dominated by Hinduism, a polytheistic religion.

This is quoted in many places in Japanese media (often translated as "On heaven and Earth, only I am the honored one"), sometimes with the intend to sound arrogant, and attributing it to the megops can come up with a variety of meanings. Starting with the conflicting meanings this phrase is portrayed with. Megatron is, of course, extremely arrogant, seeing himself as the only one who can save Cybertron and thinking all the Galaxy's resources are his for the talking. Whereas Optimus recognizes the worth of all sentient beigns as the same.

So there's that, but there's also the fact that Optimus is the choosen of the Matrix, the Honored One, whether he likes it or not, that's his claim to power. And he himself can be prone to arrogance thinking that he's the one with the right choices. And then we can compare the human-centric interpretation, to Megatron's own Cybetronian-centric worldview.

And that's not getting into the Buddhist parallelisms in "'Till all are one" which coul be interpreted as a nirvanic union.

[black-strike-otp]

part 53

//turns tf up some Chillstep and pretends to act like I Am Chill(TM) //

It was a lot easier getting things done around the transport vessel again. With Blackout back on duty, bots were more at ease and willing to listen to orders. Novastrike found herself instantly recharging better when curled against the side of the butcher of bots she called her darling suitor. Better quality of sleep made for better work; and exchanging blows in the small excuse for a training room settled in a more damaged and irreparable sector of the ship with Blackout and Scorponok and so near once again put her more at ease.

She still would find herself coming to a pause time and again. Hesitating her attacks, tasting death in her mouth, seeing flickers of a ghost in her vision. But with a cocktail of conviction and willpower; wanting to please those who believe in her and please herself, she found the strength to continue her daily assigned jours as told.

Quite frankly, she’d rather deal with the sour bite of trauma than Neutroboost. Every time she passed that mech no matter where they went, he was always giving her a dirty look. It probably didn’t help the new method of reviewing the energon stock was likely making it harder for him to sneak off with his stolen rations. Blackout offhandedly brought it up to her on a few occasions that the jours would shift when the numbers seemed to change the most drastically. For now however kept a constant vigilant count to rectify any missing cubes.

They had to be close to Neutroboost’s door. No matter how large or small the pool of suspects were; even if they didn’t take him seriously as a candidate for thievery, he was likely upon it.

Sometimes she just wanted to open her trap and tell Blackout or Guard what she knew was happening. Just when she thought that she’d built up enough courage to do so though, she’d run into Neutroboost and he’d give her that livid glare. All over again, she’d be reminded of his furious raving; the hot-helmed wrathful spouting he gave to her in the cargo bay. If not that, the pity she felt would remind her from the days prior to that how defeated he looked. Alone in his room, overcharged, babbling nonsense about how no bot liked him, believed in him, trusted him or followed his orders.

This was the same mech who once argued for her to stay long ago. She just had to remind herself he was still in there, somewhere. No matter the loss of his close ties with Crookedwing, Neutroboost had to still be in there, underneath all that hurt and bitterness. Maybe one day he’d even have his own opportunity to break free of the chains that battled him into the depths of his own inner strife too.

Until then, all she could do was hope and pray for him.

Just as she did for Guard. He barely could be found walking around the ship anymore. The medic managed to speak with Blackout and have something scrounged up to give the elder mech a larger, more sturdy cane to walk with. Sections of spare metal that had been set aside for repairs on the ship were manufactured into what had to be an uncomfortably stiff splint. The joint of his knee was completely without function now for all it appeared to Nova from the way he walked; rigidly swinging his pede in an arc with each step.

There was still good in the cosmos. It was visible in most of those on board the Rising Star. She believed that. She had to believe that. There was still aspirations that everything would get better. Cybertron would heal and they could return home. The war would end. Bots could get better and rekindle friendships long thought lost, sparks would grow fonder and apologies and love far more plentiful.

After all, Novastrike already got the chance to witness growth in one bot thought too hard and filled with revenge and hate to ever possibly be redeemable. Rogues called him a friend; she called him beloved.

Time passed; jours, days, a week, then two. Sparks could heal. Minds could change.

~

“I’m starting to think you just like buffing and glossing my armor for the sake of touching me,” Blackout pondered aloud with a sneaky smile on his face.

“Now that doesn’t sound like me at all!” the little femme retaliated whilst placing a servo to her chassis in a false show of hurt.

Blackout raised an optic ridge with disbelief. Novastrike couldn’t stop herself from giggling a little at his otherwise bare complexion.

“Uh-huh,” he gradually droned in response with a nod of his helm.

“I thought you enjoyed looking your best.”

“I enjoy looking more than sub-par, yes. But I’m fairly certain there’s an alternative motive to all this scrubbing you do.”

“Careful there,” Nova chimmed with a waggle of her digit. “You wouldn’t want to misjudge a poor, unblemished, sweet, innocent, naive little femme. It may break a poor femme’s spark.”

A snort of laughter resonated through the mech. “I might have believe that once, but I’m not totally dense. You have some fiendish tricks in your subspace.”

Giving a cat-like grin and a flash of pointed derma, Novastrike narrowed her optics slightly up at the towering mech playfully. Pulling her arm back with rag in hand, she whacked the fabric against his arm and pressed her glossia between her lips as she expelled a breath.

Blackout’s optics widened with surprise. “Did you just razz at me?”

“I did!” Nova stated proudly, placing her servos against her hips.

“You know the last bot to razz at me lost their glossia,” Blackout threatened, pointing out his index digit to proke the small femme in the tummy.

“What’d you do? Bite it off?” Nova challenged, and instantly made a face of disgust. “Ew wait- nevermind, I don’t need to know.”

“Gross Nova, really?”

“I’m sorry it just came out!”

“Do we need to have your processor to mouth filter scanned for?” Blackout teased, snickering.

Taking a step back from the mech’s prodding digit, Nova flicked her towel to whack him in the servo once more.

“Like you never get glossia-knotted and say the wrong thing!”

“That’s practically me on a daily basis, darling,” admitted the large mech with an agreeable nod. “Especially if it’s an unpleasant thought. The more unpleasant, the more likely I am to say it.”

“That’s because you got a bad attitude,” she pointed out in a snooty tone.

“I won’t disagree with that. Stupid bots deserve equally stupid responses.”

“You don’t say stupid things,” Novastrike disagreed with panic, dropping the rag in her servo as she stepped closer. Reaching out for his digits, she gently grasped his pointer and went to lightly pat him with reassurance.

She’d never seen such an instantaneous look of ‘oh really?’ in all her life. Optic ridge cocked, slight thoughtful frown on face.

“Okay, I’ll grant you that we all stay stupid things from time to time.”

A smile replaced the frown on Blackout’s faceplate and he dropped his optic ridge. “Your very thoughtful dear, but honesty goes a long way.”

“I just don’t like to see you beat yourself up.”

Her lip wobbled slightly as she spoke against her own will. Novastrike went to gnaw on her lower lip lightly to stop the slight quivering before Blackout could notice.

A vent escaped the big mech, and he maneuvered his digits carefully and slowly around her. His index digit pulled free of her servos as he moved, sliding partly beneath her chin to keep her helm pressed back to look up at his faceplate as he rubbed along her right audio.

“You worry too much about how I see myself,” Blackout commented shortly. “I’m fine, dear. Nothing’s bothering me. You’re much too good to me.”

“Well I’m going to continue worrying all I want,” Novastrike responded, doing her best to ignore the heavenly feeling of his finger along her ear. “Until you see yourself more like I do. Because you have good inside you, and you are worthy of praise and happiness.”

“That just means I’m qualified to spoil the frag out of you too, you know that right?” Blackout teased.

Turning her helm slightly, Novastrike pulled her chin off of Blackout’s digit. A brief flicker of concern lit up in his optics as she pulled away from his servo for a nanoklik. As she stepped back, she grabbed his digits and yanked downward. He seemed to get the notion easily, and lowered his arm down against the berth.

Reaching over his arm, Novastrike smothered her servos over the area of his forearm currently missing a panel of armor. The scars that ran from his wrist up towards his elbow joint on his protoform were visible; and she rubbed her servos all over them.

“See these?” she demanded fiercely. “These may be a part of who you are, but they are not all you. You are a survivor who has endured, a fighter, a legacy, a hard-worker. You are all these things, but you are more. You are careful and cautious. You are gentle and kind. You can weigh the options with your own mind and make your own decisions in life. Some bots only see the parts of you they want, or the parts that they fear, but what they say about you is not the whole you. Just as you refuse to see all that you are.”

Blackout spoke in a profoundly thick voice; eeriely quiet and missing the gravely tones but still profound as he inquired: “And what is it that I am that I do not see? What is it you see?”

She instantly felt breathless. Fidgeting in place, Novastrike glanced down at the discolored lighter marks on Blackout’s protoform that ran along to the metal that surrounded his wrist still. She see the reflecting glow from her blushing audios bouncing off the metal, giving a luminescent indigo fractured light.

Nervously rubbing her digits against Blackout’s protoform, Nova bent forward just enough to brush her lips against the scarring upon his arm. A slight shiver moved through the dark-armored mech’s frame as his chassis rumbled.

Glancing back up to the mech’s shadowy vermillion colored optics, Novastrike spoke softly: “I like to think I see all that is inside you. The old and the new; the bad and the good, the dangerous and the benevolent. All that I said before and so much more. No bot is just one layer of black and white, and you are no exception. You are both destructive and kind. A murderer and a savior. Someone to fear and someone to idolize.”

“And what do you want of me?” Blackout asked softly; his voice persuasive and powerful. “What if I want to be what you desire; what you deserve?”

A smile curved along her mouth swiftly. “It’s not about deserving. I want you, all of you, just as you are. All of your darkness and light; all you’ve done and are doing, and will do. You wouldn’t be as you are without all pieces that make you who you are.”

Novastrike let out a sudden shriek as someone grabbed her from behind. She felt her legs lift up from the floor and she dangled awkwardly in a pair of strong arms.

By the Primes, she must have been really distracted if she didn’t even sense Blackout’s holoform manifesting behind her.

“Blackout, you’re going to break my spinalstrut,” she wheezed, kicking her pedes out in front of her.

“Sorry,” he murmured quietly, placing her back upon the berth.

Taking a few steps away from him, Novastrike turned around and brushed herself off. Her optics dared to glimpse up at his holoform’s faceplate, and the gleaming red light. There was a hint of blue too; reflecting from her shimmering ears and glittering optics.

Giving an insecure shuffle of his pedes, Blackout rumbled quietly in his chassis as he commented, “If I startled you I apologize, I didn’t mean to. I was... a bit overcome.”

Moving forward, Nova reached out to place her servo on the holoform’s chassis, just over the spot his spark would lay. She gave a bashful smile as she met his gaze through slightly lowered optics. Heat was spilling out of her frame. She couldn’t determine how much of it was from humiliation and how much of it was the humming energy of excitement to how close he was now.

“Overcome, hmm?” she mimicked quietly, caressing her digits along his chassis.

A rumble moved through the holoform. Reaching down, Blackout grabbed her free servo between his digits. Bringing her arm up, he brushed a kiss against her hand and then slowly turned her arm over to do the same to her wrist.

His optics were twinkling with warmth as she hitched her breath. Tingles followed wherever he pressed his wicked mouth.

“If I am a better mech at all, it’s because of you,” he expressed fondly. “I know I’ll never be free of my faults and flaws, but I swear to you I’ll do everything in my power to be the best mech I can possibly be for you.”

Offering the sweetest small smile she could offer, Nova took her other servo off his chassis and reached up to cradle Blackout’s face. He leaned into her servo, smiling a little further in return as the humming in his chassis grew louder.

“You were always the best mech you could possibly be, and more than enough for me. More than I deserve, probably,” she admitted.

Blackout released a faint growl, placing his other servo along her waist and pulling her against his frame. The sharp points of and edges of his armor and kibble lightly poked and prodded against her softer armor and the ever present areas of her protoform. A slight shudder ran along her backstrut in response.

“A lie,” Blackout snarled quietly, leaning down. “You could win the sparks of dozens of better bots than me with a single glance if you wanted.”

“And you could easily have a hundred femmes or mechs at your doorstep in a nanoklik if you breathed the word.”

“I don’t want any other bot.”

“And I don’t want any other, no matter their grand status, species, or gender.”

The rumbling in Blackout’s chassis grew louder still, leaving his chassis armor to visibly vibrate from the low notes that rang through him. His servo released her own and moved to carefully cup her chin.

Novastrike’s pupils grew a fraction wider as Blackout leaned in to her more. The light of her optics dimmed and shuttered as he pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

The feverish heat of Blackout’s frame pressed against her own was intoxicating. Scents of darkness and light mingling; whispered threats of trouble and sighs of relief and devotion.

Moving her free servo, Nova placed it gently upon Blackout’s. He allowed her to move his servo from her face and hold it as a quiet growl echoed in his throat, deepening the kiss as his glossia swept against her own.

Groaning weakly, Novastrike’s digits gripped Blackout’s servo tightly. His arm moved as she lowered her own down without resistance.

The kiss broke suddenly as Blackout pulled away with shock.

Clearing his vocalizer sharply, the large mech leaned back a small fraction. His optics flashed down her chassis and back up to her faceplate as she pressed his servo against her interface panel.

“Are you sure-?” he barely managed to strangle out with confusion and shock.

“I’m sure,” she whispered, pressing a kiss against his jaw.

A rapid rush of hot air escaped Blackout in a rush, leaving a brief shimmering around his frame from the heat billowing out of his frame. Curling his digits very lightly along her inner thigh and interface panel, he shifted his helm to kiss her once softly once more.