#Rodimus would never let Percy live it down | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

noodleblade · 11 months

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Dense but bright

Summary: Unfortunately for Perceptor, no matter how many foolish, inane attempts he made, each one had gone…unnoticed.

For Brainstorm, while an astoundingly brilliant and bright mech, was painfully, tormentingly oblivious. -- Or, Perceptor struggles to confess his affections for Brainstorm.

Ao3 Link x Enjoy!:)

The scenario had grown decidedly frustrating. Perceptor stood stiffly as he shifted from pede to pede, waiting for Brainstorm to open the small box. He could only watch with a mixture of absolutely dread and terribly, horrible, burning adoration as Brainstorm’s optics cycled wide and brightened at the small vial now cupped gently in his servos.

KClO3, otherwise known as potassium chlorate. Highly reactive, highly sensitive, highly dangerous. Innocuously packaged and neatly contained, but no less deadly. Just like Brainstorm and his maddening ingenuity; just like the quarrelsome feelings Perceptor held for the other mech.

A soft gasp whistled through Brainstorm’s blast mask, optics darting from Perceptor to the vial and then back again.

“Oh, Percy , it’s perfect!”

Perceptor’s spark spun rapidly in his chassis as Brainstorm beamed. Even with the mask affixed, the jet’s unbridled joy was evident, fanning out in waves across their quiet lab. Brainstorm immediately started rambling about all his plans for the white crystalline powder, wings fluttering to match his excited speech.

The swarming enthusiasm had Perceptor fighting back his own small smile, his spark threatening to nose dive directly into his tank. He’d never felt so off-kiltered, so unbalanced in the desire to simply just be around a mech, let alone Brainstorm . But, as the cycles passed, it had become ever-so-clear that Perceptor had become wholly and truly infatuated. His processor delighted in cataloging and recording Brainstorm’s reactions, already eagerly thinking up new ways to get repeated results, desperate to find a way to live in these moments a little longer without having to voice his own confession.

In truth, that really all this was: yet another poorly concealed way for Perceptor to express his affections, to confess his feelings. Not just of that as a colleague- he knew he had obtained that long before these sticky, messy feelings clung to his spark -and not just that of a friend- that territory itself was still new -but of a partner , encompassing both colleague and friend but also more . Unfortunately for Perceptor, no matter how many foolish, inane attempts he made, each one had gone…unnoticed.

For Brainstorm, while an astoundingly brilliant and bright mech, was painfully, tormentingly oblivious.

“How’d you get this?” Brainstorm asked with optics so bright they were blinding. “I put the request in three times and Ultra Magnus vetoed it every time before it could even reach Rodimus’s desk. ‘Insufficient reason’, my aft. You must have really oiled him up.”

Warmth crawled across Perceptor’s plating, a flush of embarrassment curling in his circuits.

He had been well aware of Brainstorm’s failed attempts in trying to acquire the chemical substance. He had watched the repetitive cycle go on for weeks. Request submitted: Submittal denied: Denial complained about in length to Perceptor while pacing back and forth across the center of the lab, finding equally crude, yet impressive elaborate insults to vent his anger at Ultra Magnus before calming down to try again. Rinse and repeat.

He highly doubted if the requests had managed to reach Rodimus’s desk that the Captain would look at them himself. Undoubtedly, the fate would remain the same as they would surely be passed right back to the Former Duly-Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord who would issue the same scathing denial.

Perceptor, on the other hand, only needed to submit his request to Drift and within three cycles his inquiry was approved, funded and in servo. Granted, he did have to withstand the exposing humiliation of Drift wishing him “good luck!” with a cheeky wink, but that had all washed away in simply seeing the delight blossom from Brainstorm.

“It’s all about knowing who to ask,” Perceptor said quietly, swallowing down the nervous static that tried to hang onto his words. “I hope it helps in your research.”

“It will!” Brainstorm beamed, his field wide, encompassing and warm. “Thanks, Percy! I don’t know what I would do without you.”

In his processor, he could see Drift nodding encouraging, whispering, ‘Go on! Now, tell him how you feel. This is the moment.’

The words were on the edge of his glossa, threatening to spill from his lips. They were simple- nothing grand or extravagant -precise, and painstakingly practiced every recharge cycle he failed to utter them. They had become a horrible mantra of failure. It would be so easy to say them now and yet, the very thought brought the familiar grip of trepidation over his spark. What if his words were not well-received?

“Just try not to blow anything up,” Perceptor muttered instead, quickly turning around to retreat to his work station as shame and disappointment pushed down on his shoulders.

Behind him, Brainstorm let out a maniacal chuckle. “No promises!”

It shouldn’t have been endearing. It shouldn’t have made his spark strain in his chassis. It shouldn’t have been immediately recorded into his memory banks to play on repeat for the cycles to come…and yet. Perceptor bowed his helm onto his workbench, letting the cool metal sink into this plating.

Even with the swordsmech on the other side of the ship, Perceptor could still hear Drift groaning in his audials at yet another missed opportunity. It was becoming an all too familiar experience. He could already imagine yet another demoralizing walk of shame to the back corner of Swerve’s where Drift would spend the rest of the evening attempting to rally Perceptor up once more to try again. He’s surprised Drift had the emotional stamina to keep the effort going.

Then again, this was owed. Perceptor couldn’t count the number of late night talks where Drift bemoaned his fragile and tenuous friendship with CMO. Which was saying something as Perceptor loved to count the integers of Pi as a relaxation exercise. Regardless, since the coupling of the TIC and the medic, the direction of their relationship talks shifted to that of Perceptor and Brainstorm. Drift was ever eager to find Perceptor the same happiness he finally snagged for himself.

“You deserve to be happy and in love too,” Drift has insisted with soft, quiet words. “We both do. We’ve all been through too much.”

They had tried everything from gifts to friendly, affectionate touches to outings of not-quite dates that fell under the painfully flimsy label of “shop talk” . Each attempt had been eagerly, warmly accepted. Each time, hope bobbed up Perceptor’s intake, only for Brainstorm to smash it with a beaming grin of how Perceptor was such “a good friend” or “ the best lab partner a mech could ask for.” All horribly, pitifully platonic. Perceptor couldn’t remember a time that such simple friendship felt like an agonizing punishment.

“You know there is a simple way to remedy this,” Drift had pressed one cycle, optics cast in a knowing light. “If you just tell him, I’m sure he’ll be more than receptive. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, how he talks to you, about you-”

Perceptor, aim true as always, narrowed his gaze at Drift pointedly. Drift had little room to be suggesting a verbal confession when for months Perceptor had given him the exact same advice only for the swordsmech to hem and haw and ultimately avoid it just as he was doing now.

Still, it didn’t stop the TIC from being correct nor did it stop Perceptor’s simulations showing him the repeated evidence supporting the claim. It had worked for Cyclonus and Tailgate and for Drift and Ratchet eventually ; it even worked for their not-so illustrious Captain and his staunch Second despite neither of them being genuinely forthcoming with their feelings or emotions.

Perceptor just…wasn’t ready to verbalize his feelings. Not yet. Not when the very idea of having to stand before Brainstorm and utter such words sent his processor into a tizzy. Scrap, just trying to pass over a small gift as a token of affection, nearly crashed his neural net under the mounting anxiety.

Perceptor lifted his helm with a heavy exvent and looked down at his datapad of research notes. He needed to clear his mind, have a moment of peace and focus on his work for a few blissful hours before he attempted to confront his feelings again.

He flicked on the datapad and started to review his notes. Distantly, he could hear Brainstorm humming from his side of the lab, the soft clinking of glass as he fiddled with his newly procured chemical. It was…distracting. Perceptor’s processor drifted away from his own words to attempt visualizing what Brainstorm was doing.

Were his wings fluttering to the rhythm of his hums? Was he scrawling his incomprehensible doodles and notes across the messy scattered datapads that littered his work station? Did his optics hold the brilliant glow of focus and excitement so unique to Brainstorm that Perceptor could only ever picture his lab partner with such a look in his optics and hope one day it may be aimed towards him?

A frustrated groan bubbled up his intake as he pushed the datapad away. The glyphs of his own notes were suddenly unintelligible, not that he could focus on anything with his processor so tied up in everything that was Brainstorm. He brought his servo to his helm, digit lightly rubbing his crest to help sooth the mounting helmache. He just needed to concentrate and forget about Brainstorm for just one klik-

“Uh, Perc?”

Perceptor jumped, startled despite his mind being laser focused on the only other mech in the room. He stumbled to his pedes, spinning around to find Brainstorm leaning towards him, their faces just a scant few inches apart. Brainstorm’s optics were soft and concerned. Perceptor felt like his spark was going to fall out of his mouth.

“You okay? You’ve been staring at the table for a while.”

Embarrassment locked his intake shut, keeping any fumbling words lodged tight behind his denta. The proximity was hindering his fine motor-functions, leaving Perceptor to jerkily nod his helm. Embarrassment crawled across his plating. Primus.

Brainstorm didn’t seem convinced, his field lightly poking Perceptor’s retracted one. “Want me to walk you down to Ratchet? You’ve been acting so strange lately. Maybe you got a virus or something.”

The last place he wanted to go was the medbay. Undoubtedly, unless he was on shift, Drift would be there and see yet another example of his failure in doing such a simple task of just stating how he feels and-

Perceptor wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry or scream. He’d been under far more stressful situations than this. He’d survived a war, lost an optic, watched mechs die and perish around him and yet, the simple act of telling a mech he liked that he may adore them, set his systems into an emergency lockdown. He needed space, he needed to think, he needed to recenter himself because there was no scavenging a meaningful conversation out of this.

He took a step back and instantly collided with his workbench, the various instruments and datapads rattling loudly against the metal. Before him, Brainstorm’s wings dropped and the jet quickly stepped away, field retracting in so quickly it left the room blisteringly cold.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you,” Brainstorm continued to back off, helm bowed and optics locked on the ground. “Probably spooked you. My mistake. I’ll just leave you alone for a bit.”

Perceptor’s HUD flashed warning lights. This was not his intended response. He had not meant to snub the other mech or push him away. Seeing Brainstorm dejected and down by Perceptor’s doing, was enough to spur his movement, hydraulics hissing as he stumbled forward and clumsily landed his servo on Brainstorm’s shoulder pauldron.

The jet flinched, optics darting up to stare at Perceptor. He quickly retracted his servo, letting it simply hover between them uncertainly. This was not how Perceptor wanted this to go. Not at all.

“I’m sorry about my behavior,” Perceptor forced out, the words stilted and not at all what he should be saying. The haunting vision of Drift stood behind Brainstorm, nodding his helm encouragingly, desperately so. “I didn’t mean to react so...You startled me.” Hesitantly, he added, “You are never bothersome.”

Giddy warmth bloomed across Brainstorm’s field. If his mask was off, Perceptor was sure the jet would be smiling. His processor was delighted in procuring images of such an instance.

“Never caught you unawares before,” Brainstorm hummed happily, optics flashing up and down Perceptor’s frame like he could find the irregularity that had his coworker in such a tizzy. Woefully unaware of his effects on the microscope entirely. “Usually you are too observant.”

I can’t keep my optics off of you.

Perceptor quickly discarded that speech suggestion. It was from one of Drift’s many lent datapads on romance and courtship. It was cheesy, un-Perceptor in every way possible, but the urge to say it was right there, on the edge of his glossa. Along with hundreds of others.

Come on, do it now, Percy.

Perceptor looked away from Brainstorm and took a safe step back towards his station. He turned to his workbench, optics affixed to the clean top.

“Perceptor?”

He could hear Drift’s quiet, exasperated exvent. The swordsmech didn’t need to be there to point out that opportunity had presented itself and Perceptor was wasting it. Again .

Just be honest.

“You…” Perceptor started softly. His back was still turned to Brainstorm and his helm ducked down to stare at his incomprehensible notes. They looked like gibberish now, foreign and not by his own hand. “You mean a lot to me. I will always aid you in your endeavors. As convoluted and anine as they may be. I want to support you anyway I can, and be by your side to watch you succeed.”

There. He said it. Finally.

Horrible, haunting silence greeted him. He waited a klik, then two, hoping perhaps the other scientist just needed a moment. His words were sudden after all, and maybe he just needed the moment to process it. But all he got was quiet stillness.

Perceptor twitched, servos clenching into tight fists as he let out a steadying exvent. Perhaps he had miscalculated.

Peeking over his shoulder, Perceptor found Brainstorm in a similar state, back facing Perceptor, helm bowed, servos resting over his helm and wings trembling-

“Brainstorm?” Worry seeped into his words.

The jet withered, wings tucked low and protectively over his form.

“Brainstorm,” Perceptor tried again, slowly approaching the other. “Are you okay?”

“Excellent,” came the muffled reply, words spoken into his servos rather than to Perceptor. “I need a moment.”

“Was it something I said?”

“No, no,” Brainstorm was quick to wave off before returning his servo to cover his helm. “You’re perfect as always. It’s just me. I’ll get over it. Promise. I don’t want to make this weird.”

Perceptor frowned. If anyone was making this weird it was him and his inability to properly handle his feelings. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

A small groan left Brainstorm, digits digging into the seams of his helm. “I have a tendency to misread a mech’s kindness.” The voice was Brainstorm’s, sad and longing and bitter, but the words were not his own. Immediately, the bitterness dropped from his field, leaving only melancholy. “I just- you mean a lot to me too and I don’t want to ruin our partnership.”

Ruin it?

“I don’t believe you can ruin it,” Perceptor spoke softly, hoping to comfort and soothe despite his nerves clinging to his plating.

“Don’t jinx me, Percy,” Brainstorm taunted bitterly. “I have a knack for it. I let my emotions get the better of me.

“Emotions,” Perceptor repeated quietly, hope blooming in his chassis as the edges of anxieties pulled at his wires.

“I mean, I’m not exactly subtle,” Brainstorm spoke quietly, as if hoping Perceptor would not hear him. They still made their way to Perceptor’s audials, sinking into his processor as understanding stabbed him through the spark.

“Oh,” he said weakly. “I see.”

“Told you I could ruin it.” Brainstorm curled in on himself, his field coiled tightly to his frame. “Um, maybe I should leave. Give you some space. We can just forget today ever happened all together. Yeah, actually, let’s do that. If I bother Chromedome enough, maybe he can wipe it from both our processors-”

“Brainstorm-” Perceptor interrupted. The jet was spiraling. While Perceptor could more than relate, he much rather make some imperative corrections. “It appears I may have misrepresented myself these past few weeks.” Perceptor winced at his next words. “I thought my advances were also quite…obvious?”

“ Advances ,” Brainstorm repeated the word. He whipped his helm around to look at Perceptor, optics cycling wide as the word registered. “Romantic advances?”

Perceptor averted his gaze, tank threatening to flip. “Yes.”

“So the gifts…and meet ups at Swerve’s…and-” Brainstorm let out a harsh exvent, optics blindingly bright. “ We were going on dates. ”

“That had been my intention, yes.”

A high pitched whine echoed from Brainstorm intake, the jet looked flustered. His wings fluttered nervously. Perceptor broached the remaining distance and watched Brainstorm seize up. He brought his hand up between them and in a moment of true boldness, cupped Brainstorm’s cheek. His touch was light, easy for either of them to back away. After an agonizing klik, Brainstorm pressed into it.

“I see,” the jet murmured, the edges of warmth in his voice. “Oops.”

Perceptor couldn’t help the small chuckle that left him.

“Primus,” he whispered, digit gently brushing just beneath Brainstorm’s optic housing; a heavy intake of air whistling through the gaps in the jet’s mask. “For such a brilliant mech, you are so, so dense.”

Perceptor was not much better, but he was willing to ignore that little fact.

“I’m not…” Brainstorm struggled to speak, optics too bright and too wide. “I’m not dense . You're dense.” A moment passed as Brainstorm hesitantly leaned back into Perceptor’s touch. “Brilliant?”

Perceptor couldn’t help but smile. “Focus.”

“I am,” Brainstorm let out with a sigh, wings fluttering happily. “You called me brilliant.” Turning into Perceptor’s palm, Brainstorm nuzzled it affectionately. “You’re amazing too. Not as amazing as me, but a close second. Like, a micron behind me.”

“Charming.” Perceptor couldn’t even try for any sarcasm, his spark spinning around utterly smitten.

“It should be, not many come anywhere close to us. We’re amazing.” Brainstorm cautiously raised his servo to rest over Perceptor’s, locking it to his cheek. “So, that means…you like me?”

Perceptor swallowed the static in his intake and nodded. “I do.”

“Fantastic,” Brainstorm beamed, optics casted in a soft, focused glow. “So…um, do I get a retry for a drink at Swerve’s?”

“A date,” Perceptor corrected, hesitant for only a moment before a warm chuckle whistled through Brainstorm’s mask.

“A date. Oh, and for the record, I like you too.”

Perceptor’s processor wasted no kliks in recorded that.

#simpatico #brainstorm #perceptor #mtmte #transformers #maccadam #my fics

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shikai-the-storyteller · 4 years

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Mae Catt’s Cyberverse Q&A

Here’s a neater version of some key Q&A responses from Mae Catt’s Cyberverse stream.

Please note: not everything is verbatim, and also note that Mae Catt said “Don’t take things I say as the end-all be-all.” She’s a big supporter of fanfic writers!

This Q&A session contains spoilers for Season 3 of Cyberverse. For a (somewhat) more comprehensive transcript, please refer to this post.

Q: Megop rights?

“Oh absolutely, duh.”

Q: What does Optimus do when he’s not giving speeches / being a leader when they were all hanging out on the ARK?

I think he reads, he seems like a heavy reader. It’d be cute if he read really bad Earth romance novels. He seems like a guy who needs a break from everything.

Q: Does Optimus have hobbies?

Not to borrow from Rung, but doesn’t it seem like Optimus would make model ships? Very quiet, very focused detail-oriented hobby. *pauses* Oh duh, he also plays basketball.

Q: How did the Decepticons learn to stream?

Because they’re deceptive! Megatron knew he should dedicate some time to winning the hearts and minds of humans. Starscreams’ funeral was not the first time they streamed. Optimus would use the official media channels (like the news), not a streaming service. Megatron would try to speak more directly to the people.

Q: Is Optimus the type of streamer who would take 10 minutes to figure out how to un-mute his microphone?

Optimus is a dad. He has no idea what’s going on with streaming. Optimus would say embarrassing things while Bee and Hot Rod were in the middle of streaming something.

Q: Is Megatron dead?

In discussions we wanted to kill him. We wanted to do a reverse Optimus death. However, in the final product, I kinda enjoy the ambiguity rather than the final decision. Can’t remember if we were decisive about that in the script.

Q: Did the Titan mind Decepticons living in them?

The Titans want to be cities. They want citizens. They want to be lived in, that brings them joy.

Q: Does Megatron do anything for fun or is he too angry?

I want to say he’s too angry, he has fun beating people down but I don’t think he’s had fun for a long time.

Q: How would you feel about a female Optimus Prime?

[GAY LAUGHTER]

The question is: do you turn Optimus Prime into a woman, or do you take characters like Elita One and uplift her? I would want to lean more into giving Elita One more oomph, I do love how Optimus doubts himself and if he’s worthy of being a Prime.

(Mae Catt talked a lot about representation and later mentioned how there's more pressure to write the girl characters well, especially because of the need for better representation. They wanted more girls in the show, and they planned to have Jazz be a girl).

Q: Elita prime when?

All the time, in my heart!

Q: Did you plan to have ___ character in the show?

Almost every character was discussed at least once.

She really regrets that they didn’t get to have Beast Machine Obsidian or Rumble and Frenzy in the show, and says she would’ve loved a MTMTE-style Ultra Magnus / Minimus and Transmutate. She didn’t know what Obsidian’s personality would be, it was just a “Look how cool he is!” sort of thing.

(Note: We have Mae Catt to thank for Whirl getting into Cyberverse)

Q: What was your favorite episode?

“I Am the AllSpark” because of the Megatron and Starscream dialogue (which she wrote). Also S2 04 Soundwave and Shockwave.

I enjoyed writing Starscream most, Clobber and Hot Rod became a joy, S2 E4 was my first episode, and it was fun getting into Hot Rod’s voice. It was hard doing Optimus’ voice, I’d always pass it off to someone to look at it.

Q: Did you ever plan to have Hot Rod become Rodimus?

Rodimus was never considered for the show because Optimus dying has been covered to death, but we were adamant about portraying Hot Rod as someone who wanted to be a leader. Hot Rod is someone who is learning to be a leader.

(On that note, when someone asked if she thought Bee would ever become Prime, Mae Catt said:)

I don’t think Bee would be a Prime. Windblade and Hot Rod would be a better Prime. He wouldn’t want to be a Prime. He’s the #2 to Primes!

Q: Did Megatron always plan to return to Cybertron?

Megatron’s priorities changed when he saw his doppelganger. Realizing he was a horrible tyrant, that scared him enough to return and not kill Optimus and make peace no matter what.

Q: Which death hurt you the most?

Starscream. (Slipstream’s hurt too).

We didn’t want to kill people off willy-nilly for shock value, but in certain instances it made sense. Like, the audience will fall in love with Slipstream because she’s becoming good, so she has to die. (She apologized for that sounding harsh). We killed Prowl because it was Shadow Striker doing the killing and he’s a self-sacrificing lieutenant. I almost wanted Starscream to emerge from the Judge’s head untouched, but I’m ultimately glad that idea got shot down.

(She circles back to this comment later, so I’m making note of that here since it wasn’t a direct response to a question)

When I was desperately trying to save Starscream’s life even though I brutally murdered Slipstream, I wanted Starscream to have amnesia and have a redeption arc. I wanted him to have a Windblade shard and have it be kind of like Castaway, where the only person he talked to was that (and the shard only had 5 phrases it could say). Eventually Bee would befriend him and he’d wind up with the Autobots.

I wanted to write Starscream kind of like an abuse victim who expects the worst of the Autobots, but I wanted him to warm up slowly to them. I wanted to have a Starscream and Optimus episode where Starscream messes up on something and Optimus is like “you did your best and that’s what counts”, a response which is totally new to Starscream. But obviously we didn’t have time for that.

Regarding redemption arcs (a continuation from the previous question, and a huge highlight from the stream):

Re: the potential for Starscream’s redemption arc “A redemption arc needs to be facilitated by a character acknowledging that what they did was wrong. He would have had a laundry list of excuses for it, even if there was all that evidence to the contrary, but the character needs to acknowledge that reasons don’t matter because people got hurt [by their actions]. [The character] needs to intend to do better. Let them try and let them fail, they don’t need to do a 180, it’s hard work to be a better person.”

NOTE: Mae Catt also made a few more comments re: the idea of a Starscream redemption arc on her Tumblr page.

Q: Did Megatron really kill Starscream?

The Starscream beatdown was super severe and they were like “holy frick they’re really going for it” when they saw the storyboards. According to Maecatt, Megatron didn’t kill Starscream when he slammed him down (which is a bit confusing since the show definitely made it seem like Starscream died).

Q: Did Drift die? Why was he a double-agent?

According to us, Drift did not make it, but I fully endorse whatever you want. We needed a double-agent, someone who would (seemingly) kill Hot Rod. (She says they went with Drift because of his history in the comics).

(Later on in the stream)

Maybe Drift is alive, maybe he’s rethinking his decision and he’ll come back later. Drift would’ve been helpful in S3 for sure, maybe he’d come back with Repugnis or something.

Q: Why are you so mean to Percy?

He's so mature and pragmatic that he can take it, and is willing to take one for the team bc he understands that it's what he needs to do. (In response to someone’s comment about his personality) Yes, he’s calmly feral.

Q: Is Skullcruncher Percy's bouncer now that he's running Maccadam's?

Oh totally.

(She later mentions that Percy has permanently taken over Maccadam’s. Also: Skullcruncher is a lady! She misses Mac, but Percy takes good care of her).

Q: If Tarn is the perfect Decepticon who's the perfect Autobot?

A firetruck alt mode, and an Autobot insignia as a face. Nat (her fiance) and I talked about it a lot. Optimus SHOULD be a fire truck, it makes the relationship between him and Ratchet a little more fun since Ratchet is an ambulance, and Optimus has an ax. It just makes sense!

(She agreed that the perfect Autobot would be Thunderclash after the chat said that).

On that note, Mae Catt said they used Tarn for the show because: “OBVIOUSLY (the perfect decepticon) should look like this guy. A faceless mindless Decepticon that only serves Megatron”.

Q: What sort of documents DID Optimus work on in the archives?

Probably historical archives and working on stuff about all the Primes. Something like the French / American revolution equivalent, which informed his speech writing for Megatron and his own ethics.

Q: Did you always plan to make Optimus socially awkward?

We “found” the social awkwardness for Optimus. Optimus was depicted as a father figure in S1 (implying it’s because S1 is from Bee’s perspective), S2 / S3 we were able to explore more and found the limits [writing him] and found it was hard to maintain that level of heroic dialogue. Optimus would feel awkward about it too. Randolph did an impression of Optimus’ speech for the Party Down episode. “[Optimus] can’t not be in war-mode.”

Q: Were Optimus and Megatron ever friends, or did they just work together on the speech stuff?

Oh hell yes, I think [the story] is always enhanced when they’re friends and when Optimus really believes in what Megatron was working on. Optimus’ rejection of Megatron is what pushes him over the edge, his best friend rejecting him pushes him into a place where he becomes a tyrannical person.

Q: Does Maccadam know we love him?

Mae Catt: *puts hand over hear heart and looks off into the distance dramatically* Yes.

Q: What’s the best selfie Arcee’s ever taken?

I like the one with the giraffe. Or maybe a selfie with some humans. I like the idea of Arcee having a bunch of human friends.

Q: What do the Transformers think of the Florida Man?

They can’t really tell the difference between humans, they don’t really get it. It just sorta looks like all the normal stuff they see on Earth (or something).

Q: Who’s the Florida Man of the Transformers?

Rack ‘n Ruin. But he’s too nice. Hmmm.

Q: What was most important to you personally to put out in each episode? Like humor/characterization/arcs

I wanted to make sure I didn’t write dialogue that was condescending to kids, wanted to be true about the character. Dialogue needs to be true to the characters, and gay. (Laughs)

Q: Do Transformers know what memes are?

They know what they ARE, but they don’t get it. We wanted Hot Rod to be super into Earth culture (winning races and driving off before humans could realize no one was in the car), but we never had time to really get into that.

Q: What music does Soundwave like?

We had a cut joke from S2 E5 [where Megatron and Optimus are popping through portals all around the world trying to find the All Spark] . Soundwave pops into Brazil where there’s a music festival and he crashes the concert and hang out. He likes EDM the most?

His favorite song is Despacito. He thinks its so sad.

Q: Were you surprised that Jake Tillman was in his 20s listening to his Optimus voice the first time?

She apparently listened to his vines a lot when he was in his teens so meeting up again like that was a cool coincidence.

Q: What other dimensions or places did you want to be in the show?

I would’ve liked to have the other Transformers series show up (TFP, TFA, G1, Shattered Glass) but we don’t have those assets or budget.

“This will quickly become unclear to audiences who aren’t (you people).” They couldn’t have all these references when some of their audience wouldn’t get it.

Q: What about ____ ship?

Mae Catt says she doesn’t want to yuck anybody’s yums. For example, someone asked about Arcee/Grimlock, and while she said she sees them more as friends, she didn’t say they can’t be in a relationship. (Mae Catt also said she doesn’t ship Bee with anyone because she sees him as a little brother).

As she said several times in the stream, “Don’t take things I say as the end-all be-all”!

That being said, she did say she likes Dead End / Perceptor and Windblade / Slipstream.

Q: Why are there no humans in the show?

From the show’s conception, there were no plans to include any humans. They didn’t want humans distracting from the Transformers.

Q: Why did the Scientist collect Soundwaves?

He collects Soundwave because Soundwave is COOL! Wouldn’t you collect a single father of 5 who carries them around in his chest?

Why does anyone collect what they collect? “That’s a really angry dad who’s got five children he carries around in him and he plays music. Gotta have that!”

(Later on, she circles back to this question)

All the Other Universe Soundwaves the Scientist collected also had their own Laserbeaks. I wonder if the scientist would’ve taken them out. He might’ve just gotten rid of them.

(And of course, here are the boyfriend questions from the stream:)

Q: Is Dead End a good boyfriend?

Dead End is a work in progress, but maybe Percy is patient enough to get him there

(Mae Catt says she really loves the Deadceptor ship. She knew people would ship it, but she didn’t ship it herself until she saw the fanart for it).

Q: Is Astrotrain a good boyfriend?

No, no...he’s not a good person, really.

Q: Is Percy a good boyfriend?

Absolutely--WAIT HOLD ON. He’s very blunt, he doesn’t mince words, if you can handle his bluntness then you’re good. He is what he is and you have to deal with him.

Q: Is Soundwave a good boyfriend?

Soundwave is not a good boyfriend. He’s a good casual romance but he’s not a good boyfriend. Soundwave would be a terrible listener. He hears a lot but he’d tune you out.

Other information tidbits:

- If Thunderclash was in the show he and Jetfire would HATE each other. Thunderclash would be a rival reality star (maybe) to Media Fire.

- Mae Catt said “A lot of intelligent life is inherently mechanical” in space, explaining why so much of the non-Cybertronian life we saw in the show were robots.

- Knock Out was considered for the show, but every Transformer under the sun was discussed at some point in the writer’s room. (Ex: “Rumble and Frenzy are always considered in my heart, but there wasn’t enough time or space or assets to do so”).

- “The brand team had grown up on the toys as we had grown up on the ‘toons, so we just wanted to make the best thing imaginable.”

- They decided Optimus would be in the Other Universe’s Matrix and have a plinth because they wanted to show he was dead. “Logical backflips because he needed to be among the 13 to talk to Windblade.”

- Dead End’s eyes are white.

- The team wanted Jazz to be a lady (!!!!!!!)

- These characters have their own lives that we don’t see. Lots of stuff happening between episodes that we don’t always necessarily see.

- Developing Sky-Byte’s character was simultaneous with Jetfire’s character. “We knew we wanted Sky-Byte to be a poet, and we wanted him and Megatron to be chummy”.

- Percy did permanently take over Mac’s bar.

- Her favorite VA is Jeremy Levy, he’s a really cool guy.

- She thinks Starscream and Cheetor could become (not necessarily friends, but connected?) because of their connection to the All Spark. Mentions how Starscream acknowledge Cheetor as the “Guardian of the Allspark”.

- Mae Catt describes Starscream as an “Awful gremlin” several times.

- Astrotrain and the Insecticons are from Megatron X’s universe.

- She thinks Cliffjumper and Bee wouldn’t get along, solely because of the IDW2 comic stuff. (They had a cut joke about someone telling Bee he should paint himself red and Bee saying, “But then everyone will think I’m Cliffjumper!”).

- Cyberverse got 26 episodes for season 3 because they had the 4-part episode movies.

- Megatron cares about his troops, but not in a way that we would notice that care.

- AcidStorm is genderfluid.

- Cold Construction doesn’t exist in this show. When asked why all the Seekers look the same then, Mae Catt says “Maybe there’s one jet mode all the seekers really like”.

- She loves the idea of Wild Wheel robbing Astrotrain in train-mode, totally Wild West-style.

- One of the things she’s proudest of was turning Lugnut into a gal (and having so much body diversity and gender-neutral designs for a lot of characters). They wanted to include many more girls in Cyberverse (Nickel and Lightbright among them). She also mentioned that Shadow Striker is taller than Optimus or is his height.

- She describes Cosmos as “R2D2, but a Transformer!”

- Maccadam looking like a buff Rung was just a strange coincidence.

- Blurr really was the fastest.

- Mae Catt says we absolutely SHOULD write fanfic. Fanfiction made her into the writer she is today. She wrote non-stop Matrix fanfic from the age of 12-20 years old. It helped her learn a lot about writing.

- She uses “They” pronouns for Rack ‘n Ruin when referring to both of them, but says that individually they both use “he”.

- She’s really sad that Skywarp didn’t get a speaking line.

- Mae Catt won’t say whether Ratchet finished medical school or not. (She laughed when someone commented "I don’t believe that man has ever been to medical school”). She also says she wants “I choose to believe Ratchet has never been to medical school” on a T-shirt.

- When asked why Rack ��n Ruin were captains of the Ark in one universe, she says they’re probably the Prime in that one weird universe (lmao).

- She loves the idea that Transformers have siblings / families.

- In a world where they had an unlimited budget, it’d be fun if Cybertronians were constantly shape-shifting and changing their forms. Example: she’d like having Transformers who “grew a beard” and decided to “shave it”.

- She doesn’t understand cycles or astrocycles, she doesn’t understand the weird Transformers time stuff. (mood)

- She loved Beast Wars Inferno, she loved that Inferno called Megatron a Queen. It was played as a joke because the 90s weren’t very socially conscious, but she liked that Megatron never corrected him or beat him down.

- Shockwave altered his spark to have maximum bad vibes to destroy the All Spark.

- She said it’s hard talking about writing a show because you’re designing the experience and you have to make sometimes what sounds like cold and pragmatic decisions (eg: "we need a cold and spunky female”) which sucks, but they need to balance out the show. She says she’d never do that just for the sake of doing it, but it’s part of something that they do need to be aware of while working on a show. “It starts from a weirdly cold pragmatic place, but we try and put truth in it”.

- They didn’t want to have Unicron in the show since he’s the default “big bad”, but if he was in the show, Mae Catt says “If you put the proverbial budget-gun to my head, I’d keep Unicron in planet-mode because it’s more mysterious, but I want both alt modes”.

- Her favorite Megatron is Beast Wars Megatron.

- She doesn’t like Sky Lnxy’s design, it’s creepy. “He talks in the G1 episodes and the voice makes it worse.” She can’t get over his face.

- “I’d love to see more jets [who aren’t our usual gang] and find out all jets are kinda snobby, which explains why Starscream’s the way he is”.

- Everyone on the Autobot side are friends with each other.

Thanks for your time Mae Catt! We’re lucky to have you. Thank you for all your hard work on this amazing show.

#Megaop #Megop #Deadceptor #Cyberverse #mae catt #Primordial Robot hell #Transformers #I'm watching Cyberverse #i talk #Cyberverse spoiler /#Legitimately half these questions were ones I asked thank you Mae Catt for being so sweet #We're so lucky to have you #I loved that moment in the stream where everyone spammed the Lesbian / Bi flag #that was so cute!#(I was DecepticonGroupie)

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pastelgrungewrecker · 5 years

Text

Genesis As A Love Story

This is the eye of the hurricane, this is the only Way I can protect my his legacy…

Perceptor stared out the wide window of the observatory-turned-homestead he and Brainstorm had spent the MTO’s final years in. The sky looked dark yet burning, the wind howled instead of whispered.

Something knocked at the door.

They were scuffed and battered- lost and trembling.

They pleaded to be let in; their vocoder corroded and raspy and their hands worn down. Perceptor remained silent, tilting his helm and narrowing his good optic before he finally spoke.

“Why did you come here?”

“You saved one of us, once. You loved one of us, once. Please.”

His optic widened. He noticed the haphazard plating, the twitch of unfit cabling and beckoned the shivering form in before glaring into the cloying evening as it fell. The door shut like an executioner’s axe falling into the chopping block.

Like a guillotine hitting its mark.

They were an MTO, like Brainstorm had been. Born into the fires of the end of the war off an assembly line into a mission that was dead in the water. Off planet factories, hidden springs of life and hazards unknown and Perceptor handed them a fuel ration in silence.

“He called you the Least Warlike Autobot.”

“I was once known as that, yes.”

“I couldn’t think of anywhere safer to go when they raided the facility.”

Perceptor rested his chin on his own hands, thinking. Thinking to the times Brainstorm’s nightmares threw both their sparks into a death-tone spiral; thinking about the whispered confessions from a one time weaponsmaker, a coffin-filler.

“....How many of you are there.”

“Ten of us, the final half-batch.”

“Can you contact them.”

“...Yes, of course- they’re my unit, I-”

“Comm them, now. Give them these coordinates. Tell them to look for the observatory dome, and to come by cover of night.”

The mech looked at Perceptor in shock, mouth opening and closing wordlessly as The Least Warlike Autobot smiled tiredly.

“I did not love one of you once- I still love him. And this... This is something I will do, in his name. Because its the right thing to do. Because it’s what he’d want, I think.”

‘I want to make a DIFFERENCE, Percy!’, echoed in the sniper’s helm, ‘There has to be more than making assembly line weapons, assembly line people... Always war and more war- what about LIVING?’

And so, Perceptor took his place back at the wide, wide window to keep watch. Hours passed, he paced and fueled and calmed the nervous twitches of his new housemate.

The first one arrived in a clatter of unfamiliar wings and wide optics; the scorches of blaster-fire on his plating.

The second arrived with a limp- a cracked Autobrand and wobbling as they stood.

And then a third. A fourth. A ninth. A twelfth.

As days began to pass in blurs of color and sunlight Perceptor welcomed them with a quiet smile. Datapads were activated that had spent aeons in dim silence; lines of styluses slid over screens and there was clattering and clinking in the unused laboratory again.

They called him Sir, and their ranks grew.

They called him Commander, and their ranks grew.

And then, as Perceptor looked over the Observatory that had grown to house almost a hundred and thirteen MTOs from both sides of a broken war, he smiled his tired smile again.

“Call me Professor.”, he said softly, “Call me Professor; and call yourselves students. Scientists. Medics. Cybertronians.”

Word began passing around- to MTOs who feared going out in the daylight; to mechs who called themselves neutral but feared the gazes of old warriors.

And so, the ranks grew. The Observatory grew. The eyes of history turned their fickle gaze towards the one-time homestead as another construction project began.

As a sign, humble yet clean, was raised. As grounds were slowly acquired and purchased and cultured.

Genesis Academy.

The first ten graduated in a simple ceremony- no badges, no sashes, with only their fellow students and a few of their Professor’s friends in attendance. It was First Aid; shuttled in from medical duties scattered across broken galaxies, who painted the first new medic’s sigil upon the pauldron of the nervous First Graduate.

It was Minimus, chest puffed proudly as he saw his two newest apprentices bow low to him before taking the Oath of the New Accord.

It was Drift, soft-opticked for the first time since the war ended who greeted three brightly smiling mechs; packed and ready to follow him into the newly-budding cities as planners and guides.

Perceptor stood with a wide smile, flanked on either side by a new scientist and teacher.

The applause was soft, almost intimate. Perceptor adjusted the spectacles he now wore in place of his old reticule and his backstrut creaked. And then someone in the little crowd turned, and jogged towards the ‘entrance’ of the ‘campus’ grounds.

A dozen new faces, wary and nervous, looked back.

“Professor! New students!”

Perceptor glanced up, and stepped down from the short grandstand built for the small graduation. Rodimus greeted him at the gate with a debonair smile he hadn’t worn in longer than memory.

“I found some new faces, Perce. Got the room?”

Perceptor, as always, thought back to the first time Brainstorm slunk into the lab. Silent and shy and hesitant and wondering who would fire bitter words at him first.

“Always have room, Roddy. Always will. Welcome, students, to Genesis Academy. Let’s get you started.”

One of the faces twisted into disbelief, “But... But we’re CONS.”

Perceptor met their gaze, “Does that matter?”

Silence.

“The answer is no.”, he continued,”This is Genesis Academy, this is MY academy. There are no Bots or Cons here- there are students, and today there are graduates. Come with me- there is a celebration to be had, and then we will begin studies in the morning.”

Twelve hesitant frames followed the sniper-turned-science teacher to the crowd of brighter faces and smiles. A bellow of recognition, a shriek of glee- Perceptor glanced over, seeing a second-stage student bowl a new arrival over with wordless joy.

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD, HALF THE UNIT’S COMMS WENT DOWN-”

Steps creaked as Perceptor rose to the grandstand again and faced the crowd.

“Welcome to the new students, and congratulations to our graduates!”, he said, his university-accented baritone carrying over the gathered Cybertronians, “To my graduates- It makes my spark jump its orbit to see how far you have come- battered and beaten but never broken, all the way to rank and title!”

Ten chestplates swelled in pride.

“I know, deep in my processor- that you will do us all proud. Every single one of us- even the ones who are not present.”

Perceptor cleared his throat, optic dimming.

“All I will ask of you, as a final assignment- do not forget. Do not forget what you saw, what you lived. Do not forgive needlessly, but do not carry grudges longer than you need them.”

A moment of silence, of helms tilted down in respect.

“Now, with my blessing- congratulations on completing your education under my tutelage.”

The First Graduate stepped forward, “A cheer for the Professor!”

Perceptor jumped slightly at the dull roar that rumbled over the grounds; surprise replaced with a fond smile as he swore he heard Brainstorm’s voice in the crowd.

And then, the heavy thud of Whirl and Cyclonus’s steps.

Perceptor froze, and then turned- curious and confused. The last two of his students stood proud and tired and each with one of Whirl’s claws on their shoulders.

“May I present, Sniproscope-”

“PROFESSOR, you mean.”

“Whatever, Percy. But may I present- the first Artisans of New Cybertron; certified by yours truly. And my mech- they have one hell of a final project for ya.”

Both students stepped forward, each bearing one side of a holoscreen projector display.

“Another cheer for the Professor!”, called the one on the left.

The roar returned, as expected.

“And three cheers for Brainstorm of Kimia!”

Perceptor’s spark froze as the projection flared to life....

“Hiya Perce.”

The hologram grinned, popping it’s mask off and showing a crooked smile Perceptor missed more than he could ever say. Holo-Brainstorm laughed weakly.

“I can feel my spark going, Perce. I can feel it. So I’m recording this for you, and hiding it where you won’t think to look until you need it- or until I’m needed again.”

Perceptor’s hand shakily went to cover his mouth, and Drift moved like a flash of snowfall to hold him steady.

“Ratch is gone, and I know it hurt you to say goodbye to him. I could see it in your optic- and I knew one day that look would come back when they lowered me down. Hopefully you remembered what I wanted after all the fancy stuff was done.”

The hologram snorted a laugh, “Fire me into the unknown, and all that.”

A cleared throat, and Holo-Brainstorm stood tall.

“But.... In the event my projector plans can be. Well. Deciphered....”

The students puffed their chests proudly.

“It didn’t hurt, Perceptor. I promise. It couldn’t- I was with you, and that was all I needed. I lived my life, full and grand as I wanted it to be....”

Brainstorm’s smile recreated far too accurately.

“Come here, Percy. I hope, if you’re seeing this, and it’s built the way it needs to be.... I hope this works.”

Perceptor walked forward slowly as the hologram opened its arms. He stepped into the embrace, expecting the buzz of electricity when those arms closed around him-

And then he didn’t.

Firm and so close to real it broke his spark as the tears he had swallowed down since the funeral dripped from his optic- feeling Brainstorm’s faceplates against neckcables.

“I love you, Percy. Don’t close yourself away, okay?”, the hardlight hologram whispered, “There’s still so much to do in a brand new world.”

A soft laugh.

“Maybe start a school or somethin’. You always had a knack for teaching hard lessons... Sometimes with a whack to the helm. I gotta go now, I can hear you upstairs settling into the berth after making it again. I’ll see you on the other side one day; but not too soon, got it?”

A last squeeze, and the hum of the hardlight projection faded away like stardust.

The first new Artisan stepped forward.

“I was able to find most of the plans he hid away, Professor. I... If you grant your blessing, I can-”

“Build them all.”, whispered Perceptor, “Every last one of them. Put them in the world. For me. For him.”

The second New Artisan stepped forward, pulling a datapad from their subspace with what looked like a added memory drive, “I wasn’t much help with the building- but... here at the academy, I learned to love. Well. Writing. And I want to show you the first new title for New Cybertron.”

Perceptor held out his hands, breathing deep and taking the datapad and tapping the screen. It hummed softly to life.

“Genesis As A Love Story In Equations - Or, The Biography of Brainstorm of Kimia; and the Memoirs of His Conjunx and Fellow Crewmates.”, read Perceptor, his voice breaking softly as the words flowed out.

An awkward laugh, “It’s... a clunky title, but. I still have some drafting to do.”

Perceptor looked up, optic blurry and Drift’s hand on his shoulder strong and comforting.

“Thank you.”, he whispered, “From myself.... and Brainstorm. Don’t let them forget him.”

“I won’t- WE won’t.”, was the answer, “He was OUR Genesis; he was the First of us.”

Perceptor exvented softly, his optic closing peacefully as the final words passed from his processor to his spark.

“He’ll never, ever be left behind again.”

#tf #pastelwrites #perceptor #brainstorm #simpatico #big heart hurty

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libermachinae · 5 years

Text

It Takes Half a Curium to Fall in Love

This fic is also available on AO3!

Summary: The Lost Light is trying to decide the best way to measure time, but Ratchet already knows how he plans to count his days.

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Character Death

---

There had been multiple efforts to install a system by which to measure time in their new universe. They’d started with the Cybertronian calendar by habit, but several hundred stellar cycles into their voyage had come to realize that there might be more practical options, ones that did not rely on the position of a planet that had A) been destroyed in one universe and B) never existed in another. They had tried the Numeron decimal system for five kilos, and then a humul with the Unetrium system. They had even spent several days humoring various systems from Earth and come to the conclusion that none of them had been developed with any sort of strategic plan in mind. It was Brainstorm who suggested something based off of the half-lives of certain compounds in the artificial energon Perceptor had developed, and the rest of the science team had taken to it in one hundred-thousandth of a plutonium.

Ratchet, though, would not be so easily swayed. Brainstorm’s attempts to convince the medic of the benefits of a scientifically sound and provable system of time measurement resulted in a swat, and a promise there would be much worse if he didn’t clear out of the med bay in five spark rotations. Luckily for both, Drift, served by instincts older than the war itself, happened to be on the lower decks at the same time trouble was starting. Standing just outside the door, he reminded Brainstorm that the ship’s second-in-command would want a detailed report of the new system before the medical staff were licensed to use it.

“Are you planning to explain it to him?” Brainstorm asked, attention still mostly dedicated to Ratchet. Beneath the haughtiness was a subtle peculiarity that Ratchet had come to recognize since he’d taken the ritus with Drift: a question, from a fringe Decepticon to the real deal, of intent. Separate from (but no less baffling than) the usual hesitance inspired by Ratchet’s conjunx endura, Brainstorm always spoke to Drift as though fishing for some deeper meaning, a threat intended but not spoken aloud.

Ratchet had asked Drift about it not long after their honeymoon, when the bliss of isolated togetherness was still weighing on their processors and the usual clamor of a spaceship full of mechs sounded much louder than it had before they left. The answer, some combination of the command structure, a culture of second intentions, and prestige earned in spilt energon, had been as uncanny to Ratchet as any of the other pieces Drift had been willing to share about his past life, but the fact that he was willing to talk about it at all meant that Ratchet had to stop himself from raising his hackles when he saw the familiar expression pass under Brainstorm’s facemask.

“Actually, I was thinking you and Perceptor might draft it together,” Drift said, stepping inside so the automatic door could close and leaning back comfortably against its frame. “Considering it’s technically a collaboration. It’s an opportunity for him to explain his work to a mech who will not only listen, but demand that he be as thorough as possible. Maybe you could work on it over a couple cubes of engex, see how late Perceptor can stay up describing the chemical properties of energon?” He punctuated the suggestion with an eyebrow wiggle.

Ratchet, despite himself, felt the fire in his spark burn out, replaced with an amusement unbecoming of a mechanism his age.

Brainstorm’s optics brightened and his frame swung fully away from Ratchet, angled toward Drift only because that was the same direction the door was in.

“Now there’s an idea,” he said, as though his legs weren’t already maneuvering him out of the med bay and the entire reason he’d come to this part of the ship. “I suppose he’ll want citations, an annotated bibliography; we’ll definitely have to go searching through Percy’s archives to find those. I’m sure a few experiments to prove the uniformity of the compounds will also be in order?”

“And maybe a couple others, in case you need a backup,” Drift added, stepping out of the way so the signature sensor could detect Brainstorm and open the doors, releasing him back to the rest of the Lost Light.

“Doubtful, my system has already been perfected, but thanks for the input,” Brainstorm said, and then he was out the med bay and down the hall, wings twitching like he was just barely keeping himself from transforming and flying straight back to the lab.

Drift stepped forward while the door shut behind him.

“That was a transaction,” Ratchet said as his conjunx approached, quoting the terminology Drift had come up with to explain Brainstorm’s behavior after a previous encounter.

Despite the accusation, he smiled as Drift’s hands reached forward and settled on his waist, allowing his own to come up and wrap around Drift’s shoulders. Both of their frames were slightly scuffed, due for a polish that Ratchet would be able to wriggle his way out of up until their next date night, but their ventilations, when they came, were light and shallow, barely warmer than the room around them. Ratchet’s spark was spinning slowly and comfortably, a rarity these days, in time with the beeping of some equipment he’d been working on when Brainstorm burst in.

Not long after their mutual confession of having broken the keystone rule of a friends-with-benefits arrangement, they had agreed that certain areas of the ship would be off-limits for PDA, to maintain whatever scraps of authority either of them had among the new and returning crewmembers. However, the nature of their adventures, combined with a growing familiarity among all of the ship’s inhabitants, meant the timeline of the Lost Light’s journeys in an alternate universe could be measured by the increasing frequency with which they broke those initial guidelines.

The first time the ship made landfall, Drift had been standing on the command deck beside Rodimus, optics out on a horizon that was rising up to meet him; Ratchet had approached from behind and lightly entwined their fingers, waiting until Drift squeezed his consent to squeeze back.

Their first battle with aliens (Guice Nighs, a friendly hitchhiker had later supplied; universally xenophobic and vicious, not to be taken personally) had ended in the hangar, when Drift had launched himself at Ratchet before the latter had even made it down the transport pod ramp, hugging him until he was convinced the frame in his arms was corporeal and real.

The first permanent addition to the roster, a group of about a dozen organics who had been held as prisoners after their home world was destroyed, was finalized with a joint speech between Rodimus and Megatron. At the end of it, as the crowd applauded the co-captains’ earnest effort not to speak over each other for five centis (they were still experimenting with Numeron time then), Drift did as he’d always wanted to in their initial adventures and kissed the love of his life.

The time the Lost Light was shrunk down to the size of an engine block was remembered by an escape pod sized for two. Thoroughly inappropriate use of lifesaving equipment, but they’d cleaned up afterward.

And now, here in the med bay, to mark an occasion of no greater significance than proof that the shenanigans of the crew would continue regardless of time or space, they embraced, engines humming in quiet contentment as they both stared into optics familiar and wondrous.

“It’s a gift,” Drift said, thumbs rubbing small ministrations on Ratchet’s armor, “for my dear Ratty.”

“Oh, really? That’s unexpected,” Ratchet said as one hand reached up to play along the edge of Drift’s finials. He let humor lace his tone. “I hope I didn’t forget another anniversary.”

“No, I promised I would remind you,” Drift said, pushing into Ratchet’s touch with a stuttered sigh.

It wasn’t that Ratchet didn’t care about such things; even if they were commercialized, overhyped, and ultimately meaningless, anniversaries had become a part of Drift’s system of rituals, important to him and therefore important to Ratchet. It was the dates he struggled with, his mind no longer processing time as a linear system.

Instead, at some point along the way, most likely around the time First Aid’s tests had confirmed the pattern of fluctuations of Ratchet’s spark as those brought with a life lived, apparently, long enough, he’d taken to measuring his life by the time he had left with Drift. The universe had been compressed, then expanded, into fuel taken in good company, off shifts spent lying in berth, and long drives on uncharted alien planets. He counted his days by the memories he had left to make and the sum total of all the joy he had left to give and receive. For the rest of the crew, time was a road, opening out before them so far it disappeared over the lip of the horizon, pavement so smooth as to demand that it be driven as soon and as fast as possible.

For Ratchet, it was a closing door, the light it let in shrinking each day closer from a slice to a sliver. In his youth, he had railed against the door, forced it open another inch over and over, fighting to keep the light on all those he held dear to him. Now, though, in his later years, he had finally made a shocking realization: the light was no less bright for there being less of it. He could still feel its warmth and revel in its color, even if he could only watch it dance over his fingers as he held them to the crack. More importantly, his being shut out no longer meant the others would be trapped in darkness. While he’d been forcing the door to stay open, they (Drift) had made their way through, and they would continue to bask in it even after Ratchet finally accepted the gentle caress of the darkness.

So he held Drift, his conjunx endura, where anyone could see, because the light was thin and he intended to love every moment he had left with it.

“And how lucky I am for that,” Ratchet said, meaning every word. “Tell me, how long until the next one?”

#maccadam #dratchet #transformers #drift #ratchet #my writing #fanfiction #drabble #death tw

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designationpinknoise · 6 years

Text

Transformer Scenario: Body swap

The following is a non-profit fanbase Story Transformers is property of Hasbro. please support the official release.

LL/MTMTE Rodimus and Amber

"nhg...bah!" Rodimus optics came online as he looked around his Habsuite, But it wasn't his suite it was Starfire's room? ::when did I?...:: it was then he felt something off. why was it cold? and why was his chest so heavy? Rodimus went to reach and froze when a long braid fell over his shoulder and he looked at it confused as something moving in his chest. as his hand pressed against his right side instead of hard metal he felt soft flesh!

Rodimus started to panic he flew from the bed, ran into the bathroom turned the lights on... A scream pierced the air loud enough to alert security! he heard the door swish open as someone sighed in annoyance "Not the bloody captain too..." before everything went dark. When he came to second time; Rodimus was very shocked to see his worried self looking down at well,... himself. "Starfire?" he groaned still dazed and not used to his feminine voice "Yeah?" his body answered back awkwardly "How did this happen?" they asked still in shock/

Star-rod...Rodfire? stared off into space trying come up with an answer than shrugged "A wizard did it?..." she joked Rodimus frowned clearly not in the mood. "Don't gimme that look! That's my look!" she huffed pointing at his uh...her face. then crossed her, well..his arms " All i know is that I took a nap and woke up like this, then we found you inside me...okay, that sounded wrong." She explained while her boyfriend? looked panicked "B-but how do we switch back...not that I don't mind the boobs. But we can't stay like this forever!" he started to hyperventilate as Amber tried to snap him out of it "Look Brainstorm and Percy are working on it! Now just calm down before my body- " Before Rodimus could even blink Starfire's body had shifted to a bot mode about 10ft tall decked out in orange and gold. he looked at his refection then at his girlfriend/body trying to sneak away "Starfire ...." he hissed the techno organic knew she was gonna get it when they got back to normal.

Cygate x Paige

Chaos that's what was going with Paige and Cyclonus right now, as they watched Tailgate running around a sobbing mess one would think it was like any other panic attack except for the big aft chompizoid in the room...Well, three actually, see this morning when they woke up the trio were shocked to find their bodies had switched. Paige was in Tailgate's body, Cyclonus was in Paige's and you can guess where Tailgate was...as his lovers watched Cyclonus's body running around crying "ohmygodohmygodohmygod...whatarewegonnadowhatarwegonnado..."etc. It was kind of funny in its own way. if Paige and Cyclonus weren't thinking the same thing. It was kind of surreal for them, Paige and Tailgate felt very out of their element being giant and clumsy.

While Cyclonus felt exposed...It felt like he was in a cybertronians body. but the same time stuck in he avatar's body, it was just ...off. Like it was and wasn't him. Everything seemed like it could up and kill him at any second! He shuddered at the morbid thoughts that plagued his mind, then shook his head looking for a distraction...and after a few moments opted to examine his droid lover's body from their perspective. He curiously stretched it's arm noting how small their hands were. and felt every little nick and dent on it's artificial skin, he frowned there were a lot of them."What's your skin made of?" the question caused Tailgate to stop and Paige to jump. "why are you curious about that?!" Tailgate asked still panicking as Paige picked up on what Cy was doing.

"My skin is made artificial fibers and clone tissue, the fibers tighten and harden when in combat allowing extra protection against ballistic force such as bullets."

"But not blades?"

"Bladed weapons can still harm me. However, the enemy would have to get close or have aim like Miss Yuki or Prof. Coutez."

"...hm"

Cyclonus stared at a rather large burn on her thigh and went to ask about feeling pain. but, a somewhat calmed down Tailgate beat him to it, Paige explained she can regulate her body's sensory and temperature... it went on back asking questions about each other, Til Perceptor announced he and Brainstorm figured out how to which them back.

[Odyssey au]

Janis and Prowl

"it's not funny Landmine..." Prowl hissed blowing blond hair out of his face brown eyes glaring up at his sparkmate's guardian, who was on the ground laughing his aft off a the couple's predicament "Oh-ho-ho...heh Frag yeah it is!" the ex con snorted as he wiped lubricant from his optics, as Prowl growled wishing he was back in his body! So, he can show Landmine where he can shove that sense of his,...Before turning his attention back to Janis who was passed on the ground...

You see wheeljack was experimenting on a new "lie detector" that could read thoughts, unfortunately due to unforeseen... Sideswipe jump scare! it blew up and blasted a odd purple energy wave, that washed over Prowl and Janis when they came out of it. The couple were shocked to find they switched bodies! Janis more so then Prowl; who tried in vain to calm her down, the poor girl started hyper venting panicking when Perceptor said it might be permanent! a one armed Wheeljack didn't make it any better by saying "are ya sure? this seems like an improvement to me." Prowl look taken affronted while Janis glitched and passed out on the ground since...that's where Landmine came in. they needed help moving her to medbay...a few hours later they were back to normal thanks to Ratchet and Ironhide [who also got switched] who scared the living tar out of Wheeljack by saying.

Ratchet (Irohide) "Y'all are gonna fix this.~"

Ironhide [Ratchet] "...or we're going to fix you..."

(["got it?"])

Wheeljack "...ok"

Perceptor and Cordelia

Neither had noticed till' one of the SiLo researchers asked for help on some algorithms, Perceptor had taken one step and he realized how far the floor suddenly was! and how close he was to becoming a red smear on the lab's white tile floor. if not for Cordelia's quick reflex which knock the wind out of him, Perceptor grimaced as he recalled the many times he done this for Cordelia.

[mental note be more gentle to Cori.] he blinked then looked up at his assistant/ lover in his body who sighed relieved, then noticed their curious predicament. "oh, dear." they said simultaneously, before going to work and realized that the back blast of Wheeljack's device was was still circulating it shouldn't be permanent...So,no reason to panic that was until Perceptor felt how exhausted Cordelia's body was and an empty gurgling feeling in her abdomine, caused him to frown "Cori..." She stood up straighter. He never calls her that in public unless she's pissed him off!

"um...yes?"

"when did you last eat?..."

"...um...t-w...three days.."

"...Get out..."

He snapped at the lab techs who were already out the door, let's just say it's a good thing these walls were sound proof, c'os when Percy's mad he scarier then Ratchet, a few minutes later a rather pale faced Cordelia was being carried by Perceptor "-oing to sleep even if i have to strap you to the damn berth!?" again neither seemed notice they were back to normal as they were to caught up in their own world.

#transformers maccadam #transformers scenario #body swap #prime prowl #perceptor #cygate #Rodimus Prime

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pastelgrungewrecker · 5 years

Text

Hollywood Hoax

Ever thought of callin’ when you’ve had a few? Cause I always do.

After Brainstorm left this new world, left his mark the only way he could- Perceptor expected silence for a while when he entered the room.

He had grown accustomed to noise, so it was jarring at first- But not as much as the first time a drink was thrown in his face.

His optic flickered in a shocked blink, hearing the accusations thrown at him as Swerve bellowed for the accuser to leave. Accusations calling him homewrecker, thief, buymech- And then they were gone, ushered out.

His shock was plain to see as Swerve offered him a clean bartowel to dry his faceplates, and whispered for him to head home while he figured this out.

The answer was worse than he could have imagined.

Self-styled historians, pawing through old records; journals left behind when a CMO passed into a light he never thought he’d deserve. Memories, taken so far out of context they were barely recognizable. He watched on the small screen in a dim common area- a living room decorated in memories of the dead and well-loved.

They had called it a biography. They called it a retelling, and a re-imagining. And he watched as a speedster decorated in a mockery of his own appearance portrayed him as nothing more than a side-piece; depicted him as a seducer, as an invader.

As they took his name and dragged it through the acidic silt of rust-rivers.

It was Rodimus who first spoke out; who condemned this joke of a faux-history; and Perceptor’s heart broke when it was Xaaron who refuted Rodimus’s words; claiming that Perceptor’s motives were never easily known, that he had been a master of hiding everything from feelings to grudges.

Perceptor closed his optic, and wished Brainstorm was still here.

It was Minimus who came to his door; the observatory-turned-homestead where he and Brainstorm had settled; the loadbearer in high and vicious spirits and armed with every inch of the law he planned to weaponize.

‘I remember what you gave up for our cause.’, he had said, his hand resting on Perceptor’s forearm, ‘And I will not stand by as you are desecrated for the sake of profit.’

The trial was televised. Xaaron defended the studio that treated memory like a moneylender; he looked down his nose as Perceptor sat in silence after being assured he would not be needed to testify as the people watched.

That raw, painful memories would not be shown to the world in some kind of display.

And then Drift was called in by Xaaron- questioned as he looked down. As he gave his ever-vague answers to guiding questions and jurors watched with bated breath.

::It looks dire.::, Minimus commed Perceptor in silence as Drift finished speaking on the sordid history between the swordsmech and the sniper, ::This will be hard to challenge-::

::Get me a hardline, and a projector.::

::...Perceptor, you don’t-::

::Bring those things to me. Now. And I will show them all my place in this little tale.::

Xaaron blanked as Minimus made his request. Perceptor rose from his seat, and heard the gasp in the watcher’s ranks as he walked forward.

“This is ridiculous, Perceptor.”, said Xaaron grandly, “Memories, as anyone knows, are biased, and-”

“And you should know, as a leader on Kimia, that due to my station; not only is my testimony treated as fact in most court proceedings... But my optic feed is recorded, and saved in a locked drive partition on my processor in the event of a fatal incident.”, was the cold answer, “I never deactivated such a thing- Convinced I would die long before anyone cared to remember my name. Not only is that unable to be tampered with, but it is accessible by an Enforcer of the Accord.”

Minimus looked down as Perceptor took a seat in the witness stand, and pushed the portcover open. As the jack slid into place, his optic went dim, and Minimus called up a holoscreen as Drift looked away with optics screwed shut.

Passcodes entered, accesses granted. Minimus put his hands behind his back as images flickered by too fast to count before stopping- and allowing stored footage to play. Of Ratchet’s flirtations once upon a time. Of Ratchet’s purred promises and sly innuendo.

Of his notes left behind in the morning-after’s. Of his purposeful avoidance in days following night’s spent in the microscope’s company.

Of Brainstorm’s soft comforts, with the glint of bottles in the background.

The images passed by again, and Drift rose from his seat to leave only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder- green as greed and strong as sin, it forced him to sit back down while baby-blue optics bore holes in his helm as audio began to play.

‘Love you Perce.’

Drift winced.

‘I love you more, Drift- darling.’

‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

They both looked back to the console; producers trying to scramble out of the courtroom to be blocked as jurors watched in horror as a sleep-blurred feed caught glimpses of a white mech gathering various objects, little necessities...

Before slipping out the door in the dim darkness.

Optics in the jury-stand glittered in tears of empathy, and the judge looked down at his lap and shook his head.

“The court has seen enough.”

“Not. Yet.”, said Perceptor from his half-aware state.

Images flickering by as Drift felt hot glares on his plating, as Xaaron hissed for an explanation from his clients.

The Lost Light, again- the home away from home a ragtag crew had made. Whispers of the conversations overheard- whispers that included the voice of a CMO-turned-Saint and a Nightmare-turned-Warrior. Teasing that was not quite teasing, jokes just this side of off color.

And then the feed was paused, and closed, and Perceptor’s optic onlined as he pulled the jack free of its contact-point.

“As shown in the footage; not only was I slandered- not only was I LIED ABOUT, and depicted as some... villain, for profit...”, he said quietly before he glared coldly at Xaaron and Drift and the gathered watchers, “But I was belittled and drug through the mud mere weeks after my own conjunx endura left this world. May I be dismissed from the witness stand, please.”

“You may.”, murmured the judge.

The trial ended shortly after Perceptor’s expose; he stared at nothing until the verdict was read, he stared through time until Minimus put a hand on his shoulder and whispered that it was time to leave.

Perceptor exited to silence. The gathered crowd refused to look at him as he walked through the tall doorway, shame hanging in the air like a miasma as he returned to transport and murmured the location of Swerve’s bar when the door shut.

He closed his optic, letting coolant leak from the corner of it as the accusations that were thrown at him played on repeat in his processor; interspersed with the lies wrapped up in old I Love You’s.

The door to Swerve’s was propped open when he arrived; the minibot sitting at the bar with Rodimus as they watched him enter. Rodimus rose first- walking forward and pulling Perceptor into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry.”, whispered the still-young Captain, “You shouldn’t have had to... Drift had no right to-”

“I am... used to being so easily discarded, Captain.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

Swerve slid a glass to Perceptor, something bright and fizzing within it.

“Altihexian Sunset- on the house. No tab needed for you, Perce. You drink on my dollar.”, he said.

“...Dare I ask why?”

Rodimus sighed, “....A lot of the crew were interviewed for that... THING they called a Historic Retelling or whatever. And... Well. Their assumptions played a big part in things too.”

“Ah yes- the crew that made every effort to pretend I wasn’t there; at least, until Overlord was. Or the engines made a spooky noise.”

Rodimus nodded; before looking sharply up.

“Percy?!”

The sniper turned, to see Drift in the doorway. Just the sight of the white mech made his spark hurt, and he looked to the side before going to speak- only to be beaten to the moment by Rodimus himself.

“What is your PROBLEM, DRIFT?!”

The swordsmech raised his hands placatingly, “L-Look, I was in mourning, I wasn’t thinking right, I-”

“PERCY’S MOURNING TOO; HELL, HE PROBABLY HAS BEEN LONGER THAN YOU’VE KNOWN HE EXISTED!”

Drift’s finials tilted back and down, “Roddy, c’mon, bro, calm down-”

The crack of a fist meeting a face was loud in the bar, and Drift nearly bounced off the doorframe before Rodimus put a heavy pede to a white chestplate and shoved.

“GET OUT, AND STAY OUT- I DON’T TOLERATE LIARS.”

Swerve shook his helm, putting a hand on Perceptor’s in a gentle pat, “Tailgate commed me- Chromedome and Rewind met up with him and there’s a welcoming party at home for you- a nice quiet one; except for Whirl.”

“...And why is Whirl in my home?”

“He’s acting security. You’re a little famous now; and not just because you’re THE Wrecker-Sniper.”

Perceptor nodded, laughing bitterly and quiet as Rodimus berated his one-time TIC in the background.

“I’ll call you a ride home, enjoy your drink and I’ll see you next week, okay?”

“...Thank you, Swerve.”

“Anytime, Percy. Anytime.”

#tf #pastelwrites #perceptor #swerve #kind of an au almost #vaguely canon compliant?

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pastelgrungewrecker · 7 years

Text

Alt-Mode

All this bad blood here Won’t you let it dry?

Winning the ship was a hollow victory as half the crew ran; scared of retribution.

Getaway was smug until the end, until the very moment his optics faded and he went limp in Rodimus’s hellfire grasp and the newly instated Captain looked out over his battered crew.

“Tally up who’s left.”, he rasped out, voice worn down from rage and battle, “Find out who’s still here.”

Those missing were either mourned or cursed; depending on whether their bodies were found or not. But the name that hurt the most... Was Perceptor. The name that made Brainstorm’s wings raise in betrayal, that made Rodimus grind his dentae and that broke Drift’s spark into pieces...was Perceptor.

Ratchet shut down, the crew fell silent.

He was not mourned.

That was nearly two years previous. Brainstorm had grown used to working alone, enjoyed it even... until he didn’t. And suddenly, he understood why Perceptor had gone cold and so very quiet. Why things seemed to become nothing more than a routine for him, why he dodged the winds of change by hiding in the lee side of old stones of protocol and rules.

And Brainstorm, himself, grew quiet. Quiet, and cold, and bitter.

A beaker shattered upon the floor when it fell from shaky hands. Brainstorm sighed, wings flicking as he rose from his seat and trudged to the old storage closets. His hand hovered in front of the keypad as he remembered the bickering over the codes they set as locks. He swallowed his smile like powdered arsenic and pressed the keys in the proper order.

[Access: Denied.]

He frowned, and entered it again.

[Access: Denied.]

A few more tries and the keypad shut down. Brainstorm muttered his curses as he forced it to reboot and began to toy and fiddle with the keypad before he finally got the code to work-

And narrowed tired optics.

Perceptor, paranoid though he could be, had one fatal flaw with passwords. He had only four he would cycle through without fail- his memory had taken a hit alongside his optic all those years ago, and as such he wanted to make sure he never forgot a keycode.

The series of numbers used matched none of the ones Perceptor used.

The main door eased open with a hiss. Brainstorm huffed, stepping in and looking over the labels on the internal closets before snarling curses as he realized every label was suddenly missing. He hadn’t been in these closets in ages, and as such didn’t have them memorized- organization was more Perceptor’s thing anyway.

He hauled the doors open one by one- each more worrying than the last. These were not the perfectly ordered storage units he had left behind all that time ago; these were not units meticulously placed in the comforting brackets of Perceptor’s system.

Crates and boxes haphazardly packed and shoved in wherever they could fit; dust and dirt and signs of age. Dead chemicals and stained equipment.

And the final door was welded shut; its lock shot to pieces. Dust caked the weld and Brainstorm felt his spark seem to sink. He ran for a plasma cutter and hustled back, fearing what he would find within the sealed storage room.

It was the matter of moments to cut the door from its frame, and only a few hits with a heavy shoulder to knock it in and send it clattering to the floor.

The room... was empty. Empty aside from an old microscope sitting in the middle of the floor. Scuffed and battered and beaten, paintjob smeared in splatters of rust and dust and age and misuse it sat alone in the dim light coming in from the main walkway that led down the line of storage units.

With a sigh, Brainstorm turned to leave.

Whirrrrrrrrrrclick. Whirrrrrrrrrclickclickclick.

He paused.

A hum, and another whirr.

Brainstorm turned, optics wide in shock as he saw the tray lower and raise, the cracked eyepiece twist. The tarnished knobs turned and ground as they did.

Vwhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirum!

The sound of a t-cog desperately trying to activate.

Brainstorm stood in dumbfounded shock, and opened his mouth to speak. He mean to ask what the meaning of this was, who they were- but deep down he already knew.

“Percy?”

A hideous grind, and the entire thing tried to MOVE.

And that’s when Brainstorm saw where treads had been removed as he moved closer. That’s when shaking hands reached out as his comms activated.

::Drift, Drift it’s Brainstorm, in the labs- I may know where Percy is-::

Click.

The commline went dead.

Brainstorm tried again, ::Rodimus, its-::

::Don’t.::

Click.

Brainstorm found something bolted into the microscope’s frame as he opened a line with Ratchet.

::Don’t you DARE CUT ME OFF.::, he snarled, servos working as fast as they could, ::I may have found Perceptor, I’m in the lab storage.::

::Brainstorm, that’s ridiculous. He’d be offline, or worse.::

::Not if he was locked in alt-mode.::

::I doubt even GETAWAY would be that cruel-::

Brainstorm grunted as he pulled hard after loosening bolts and easily popping old and rusty screws free.

The clatter and clash of transformation- and a rust-spotted Perceptor gagged on an attempt to vent before he howled in excruciating pain.

::Then tell me who THAT is?!::

::PRIMUS, keep him steady, do what you can to keep him stable- I’m on my way.::

A crunch and whine of old machinery and Perceptor screamed again, flat on his back as he convulsed and his servos creaked almost as loud as his loosened jaw.

Brainstorm crawled over, letting Perceptor’s twitching hand grip his own and weakly squeeze as though that would make the grinding pain stop. He winced, not from pain, but from the lack of it. On his knees he inched even coser, carefully lifting Perceptor’s helm onto his lap and speaking to him in a rapid babble.

“Perceptor, Percy, hey, it’s me- focus on my voice alright? Ratchet’s on his way, you’re gonna be okay-”

“Br-”, Perceptor’s voice shattered into static and he reset his vocalizer, gagging at the sensation, “Brain-st-m?”

“Yeah, it’s me, it’s me Percy. I’ve got you, Ratchet’s on the way, he’s gonna help you.”

Another static charged howl of pain, and Brainstorm heard the crack of a knee-joint’s setup nearly disintegrating.

“Focus on ym voice Percy, you gotta listen to me- I know that’s hard but you’ve got to stay with me here, alright? You’re in bad shape, but we’re gonna fix you up.”

“Sch-m-tix.”

“Scamtix?”

“Schema-tix. Desk, top r-right.”

“Percy, why do we need those-”

“Re-b-ld. Mod-d fra-”, a shriek pierced the words, and Brainstorm nodded. He heard the crash of Ratchet bulling the door down, and his wings jerked up.

“RATCHET! TOP RIGHT DRAWER OF PERCY’S DESK ARE HIS REBUILD SCHEMATICS! YOU’LL NEED THEM!”

“WHY?!”

“HE MODDED HIS FRAME!”

Muffled cursing, followed by the sound of something breaking. Brainstorm winced, knowing Perceptor wouldn’t be happy that his desk was no doubt in pieces.

Speaking of, the shuddering scientist rolled onto his side and curled as a movement of his arm popped the shoulder’s joint out of place- the arm hung by wires and showed the internal rusting and deterioration lacing through it and Brainstorm’s spark was in his intake.

And then Ratchet filled the doorway, his faceplates contorted in a mixture of rage and horror before he was at Perceptor’s side. On one knee, he spoke in the softest voice Brainstorm had ever heard as he searched for the mediport in Perceptor’s arm- only to hiss a curse.

“What is it?”

“Welded closed. I’m going to have to force it- and it’s going to hurt.”

“Is there any way to bypass the pain?! He’s in enough of it!”

Another howl from Perceptor.

“I could link up with him but with this level of deterioration he’d take ME out from the pressure of it, Brainstorm- hell, it’s a wonder we’ve been able to handle his field this long.”

“Then I’ll do it.”

“Brainstorm-”

“Listen, I abandoned him once already.”, snapped Brainstorm, “I’m not doing it again. I’ll help with his pain, you focus on getting him better.”

Ratchet pulled a heavy grey cable from his subspace, his expression something almost reverent and... maybe proud.

“Base of his helm to yours- and be careful; it’s gonna hit you like nuclear meltdown.”

“I’ve lived through worse.”, said Brainstorm bitterly, snatching the cable with one hand as the other felt out the tiny indentation at the back of Perceptor’s helm. One end of the cable slid in with a click and he raised the other to his own.

“Work quickly, Ratchet.”

Click, hiss.

Nothing, for a moment as his processor verified the connection; and then it was nothing but white hot pain as Perceptor’s howls and screams slowly quieted down into a sedated whimper, punctuated with soft cries and Brainstorm doubled over with a gasp.

Every last inch of him was on fire- it was death all over again; it was the killswitch mixed with betrayal and Brainstorm shuttered his optics as he wobbled in place.

His hands moved the floor to steady himself and once again Perceptor’s sought him.

Ratchet worked quickly, coughing at the scent of burnt circuitry and hoping Brainstorm hadn’t shorted completely out.

Brainstorm didn’t know how long he had drifted in and out of starbursts of suffering- until they came slower and slower and finally stopped. Ratchet pulled the cable free, subspacing it before patting Brainstorm’s cheekcabling and speaking the MTO’s name.

“You still with me?”

“That was... He was....”

“It’s hell.”, said Ratchet quietly, “I’ve got hi sedated, we need to get him to the medibay- It’s a wonder he didn’t just fall into pieces when he transformed, but he’s not going to be walking for a good long while.”

“How bad does it look?”, asked Brainstorm as Ratchet’s arms went under Perceptor and carefully lifted him. The sniper hung limp, optics dim and limb twitching as bursts of whimpered static flitted from him like ashes from a wildfire.

“Bad.”, was all Ratchet would say, “It looks bad.”

“But you can repair him, right?”

“I hope so.”, said Ratchet as Drift nearly slid into the doorframe with a broken spark in his optics, “I really hope so.”

Brainstorm watched as Drift stepped aside for Ratchet to pass, mouthing Perceptor’s name and wobbling where he stood. Brainstorm forced himself to his pedes so he could get to Drift’s side, give him someone to lean on-

What he never expected was for the TIC to turn and hug him fiercely, making backstruts pop into alignment as he did.

#tf #pastelwrites #perceptor #brainstorm #drift #ratchet #rodimus #getaway mention #mild robogore #torture mention

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