I tried writing the extended version of the poem, but limericks are really not my style and I'm not used to writing straight up freaky stuff, so I only got 4 verses that actually match lol 😭
Anyway, I made this because I really want to celebrate Minimegs week, but idk if I'll have time to make stuff for the actual prompts, so this is supposed to be for the whole week💔. I will try to make some actual drawings, no promises tho.
Also I might FINALLY finish adapting a minimegs poem I wrote months ago, the original is already up on ao3, but it's in my native language and the English version sounds absolutely crappy so that's why I haven't posted it yet.
Minimus watches alone through the little window as Ultra Magnus is destroyed. The fire takes small extremities first. The fingers, the finials, the details. The face. All of it becoming soft and disappearing.
An apt metaphor. Maybe he should write a poem about it.
It'd taken years to phase the name, the title, out of his life and others. Ultra Magnus' place in the world had been made in war, and disappeared with it. Minimus accepted that as he wore the armor less and less. The face slowly faded from the world as reconstruction continued.
It felt disrespectful to let the name and mech fade simply because Minimus no longer fit the role, though. Earlier that day Minimus held a funeral for the original Ultra Magnus. A mech who'd been denied the service all for the sake of an idea. It was rather small, not many people were left who knew him. Minimus didn't even know him. In the early days taking on the job he'd wondered how his predecessors had felt, how the original Ultra Magnus had managed to be such a paragon of law. He'd dedicated himself to be like him.
Now all that was left was the armor and Minimus. And he'd made a promise.
The larger pieces are starting to soften now. Warping, puddling and then disintegrating with the rest.
It's not hard because he's not watching himself die. Ultra Magnus, the mech and the title, has long been laid to rest. The hard part is that the mech somewhat responsible for his past, and who he has to thank for his present, is gone.
It's hard because Megatron isn't here.
…
You Would be Happy to Know
Entry 32:
A malleable form without place
Is presented an empty space
It slips into shape
Is taken far from itself
But caring hands pull it out
Past its moored walls
To a love long forged
Carefully the mold is shed
It becomes soft and disappears
Under flames of new life
And a promise long kept
...
I like to think after Lost Light and promising to destroy the armor it still took some time to completely let go of it. And also that Minimus writes poems like letters to Megatron </3
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