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Language:
English
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Published:
2026-08-17
Words:
372
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
4
Kudos:
11
Bookmarks:
1
Hits:
63

Here One Moment, Gone the Next

Summary:

You are unraveled.

Notes:

I keep thinking abt this post and ESPECIALLY this artwork by vii-sparks and I have MANY thoughts about it and made said thoughts into this fic lmao.

Like, imagine being a living being who's parts are made up of other living beings with their own individuality, and how suddenly losing one of them would do to your psyche.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The well of your being is not infinite.

On the first combination, you and your components must know each other, and become more than just another stranger.

To know the spark of another is a terrifying thing, and so is to be known.

And terrifying too is to be hurt, so you cling to your very being, seeking to know your components and yourself in hopes of avoiding pain. One way of avoiding pain is seeking to know where the dangers are hidden, so you can be ready and perhaps brace yourself if the pain is unavoidable.

But when one of your components is dead, and you still wield them like they’re alive again… the complete reality of your existence threads it way through your mind.

Alive. Dead. Alive. Dead. Alive, dead, alive, dead, alive, dead, alive, dead, then alive and dead and alive and dead all at once. The wounds this one dead component have inflicted on the other components with every plating you’ve moved and every word you’ve ever spoken.

Your existence hurts them.

It is not even a prison, because a prison can be escaped from. A prisoner can gaze out the windows and dream of escape. They can watch the skies change hue from dusk to dawn.

No.

You are a corpse.

“Defensor?”

You turn to see… you don’t know what you’re seeing. It’s a person, but it’s not. They’re alive, enough to know their way towards the center of your dead-but-not-really-dead spark. The only thing that would be possible is through your gestalt bond with your components. But that’s impossible. How can someone communicate something that’s neither dead nor alive?

“Did I… break you?” The voice cracks, fragile and small, and somehow it’s like a knife to your spark. You don’t care if you don’t know who this voice belonged to, the urge to offer comfort and reassurance to this one stranger feels stronger than your own uncertainty.

“Is this my fault?”

You know the answer to that. It’s no one’s fault for the way you are now. The dead components you’ve had are simply because you weren’t enough to protect them.

And how can you call yourself a Protectobot if you can’t even protect them yourself?

Notes:

My first fanfic and it's just giving my boy a crisis lmao