#Optical Chemical Sensors | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wifetomegatron · 7 months

Text

an alchemy of ore & eu de parfum : how i imagine cybertronians react to human perfume (afab!reader) (nsfw!)

most of the lost light crew only knew about it in passing. rumor was that before the war, the wealthy would import organic plants from off-worlds to extract their oils: steam distillation, boiling, maceration. of course, it wasn't very popular when the planet's atmosphere lacked the proper gases. without volatile elements in the air like oxygen, the exotic scents hardly smelled like anything. it didn't stick against their armors the way it clings onto organic skin. so it became a short-lived experiment that barely dented the surface of the planet's long history of achievements. mechs, trying to replicate organic perfume. it sounded ridiculous.

until perceptor caught a whiff of it: phantom light, brushing against his olfactory sensors. he lifted his helm, finally compelled to tear his optics away from the datapad to look at the human liaison. he inhaled experimentally, failing to be discreet. embarrassed, you tell him it's the new bottle of body wash you've tried: a mixture of wild violets and pink hibiscus. do you like it? he thinks of strange fragile flowers, drifting under the wind. perceptor nearly missed the question, slowly nodding as you leaned closer in worry. it took the mech a lot of self-restraint to not pull you flush against him when the new, alien fragrance hits him square in the chassis like a bullet.

minimus drags his human's wrist across his intake, peppering light kisses along the skin. it was where the sweet, smoky odor was strongest, luring him closer. with you sprawled across his lap: trembling, laughing at the ticklish sensation, minimus couldn't contain the small, helpless groan that escaped him. shamelessly tipping your chin down to press your lips against his. the fragrance of mandarin and jasmine, crowding the space between your bodies. the scientist hovered above your shoulders, mouthguard grazing the junction where your neck meets your jaw. brainstorm tightened his grip against your wrists, pining it above your head. he wants to melt into you, to drown in the overwhelming scent of amber. tyrax, benzoin; he knows they're just a cluster of chemical reactions coming to life along the curve of your collarbones. bonds breaking and fracturing to release something tangy, saccharine. but you're telling him that bulgarian rose, sandalwood — foreign, outlandish names of floras he'd never heard about before was making you smell celestial ? he was the universe's biggest heathen, but primus, save him. you were wiggling underneath his frame, back flat against the pristine table. he says he wants to run a few experiments, noticing how your pupils respond by widening, skin prickling with excitement.

he's trying to be gentle, servos encasing your hip to lower you down his spike. megatron watches as you take him, inch by inch. with your back pressed against his chest plate, he could feel the thrum of his spark against the line of your spine as it bows and curves in pleasure. as you spread your legs further to sink further, he rewards you with a kiss — brushing your hair aside to press his intake against the pulse point beneath your ear. and he tastes it, or rather, breathes it in. he didn't need to, but when your sweat mixes itself with the perfume you always wore: bergamot and peony, he inhales and loses himself even more.

the habsuite reeked of sex, and it crowded the air: humid and heavy, whirl's optic nearly offlined at how obscenely wet you were around his spike. already drunk on your pheromones. so when he lifted both your legs higher — up to his shoulders — to fit himself up to the hilt, whirl didn't expect to catch a whiff of your perfume around your ankles. you whined, a high-pitched, desperate sound, when he stopped thrusting to press his enstril against your achilles heel. that was enough for him to snap. he hoisted you up into a mating press, driving into you with a new kind of vigor. 'you did this on purpose', he emphasized by roughly grabbing your ass to push further into your already trembling cunt. causing you to moan into the dark. 'you knew we'd end up here. like this. filthy, little —'

sicilian mandarin and citrus musk. you made a mental note to yourself to wear the combination around your lover more often.

a/n : for @robot-horde because you're brilliant and left a comment on the tags of this post and it just inspired me to make more.

436 notes · View notes

tinydefector · 1 month

Note

quietly whispers (for your consideration)

ratchet x human reader

sex pollen

Pheromones

Ratchet x human reader

Word count: 2k

Warning: smut, thigh fucking, sex pollen/ pheromone spray, #valveplug

Request and ask open, read pinned post

So what about, Cybertronians react to perfume in the way humans react to Sex pollen hehehe. I love the idea of human perfume mix with skin contact makes an almost intoxicating scent and sends Cybertronians feral when they get a hint of it. They love how it makes humans skin taste, and it over rides their interface systems.

So enjoy.

_____________

The human moves around Ratchet's medical lab looking at different vials and flasks their eyes flickering over the difference Liquids. " Hey ratchet what are all of these different vials?" They call out to the medic. Ratchet looked up from his work when he heard the human call out to him. He put down the datapad he was looking over and walked over to where the human was examining the various vials on the shelves.

"Those are different medical compounds and chemicals I use in treatments and repairs," Ratchet explained. "The colourful ones contain powerful medications and sedatives. The clear ones hold things like bonding agents or nanite solutions. Others are a mix of experimental solutions"

He pointed to a vial with a swirling pink and purple liquid. "That one is a broad-spectrum energon healing compound I developed. It speeds cellular repair and regeneration, within Cybertronian functions." His optical ridges furrowed as he watched the human carefully look over each vial.

"You know better than to touch anything in here, less you break something and contaminate yourself with something i can't fix" Ratchet said sternly. "Some of this equipment and chemicals could seriously harm an organic being like yourself." Despite his gruff tone, his words held more care than scolding. Biology was complex, and humans were so small and fragile compared to Cybertronians. He hoped his favourite little patient and helping hand was being careful not to endanger themselves.

"It's just fascinating is all, kinda reminds me of a mediaeval apothecary" they chuckle. "Do you ever just take samples for fun, like when you're out and about on planets?" They ask, they were always curious over what things ratchet tended to keep.

Ratchet huffed a small laugh at the comparison to a mediaeval apothecary. "Fascinating perhaps, but also dangerous if mishandled," he remarked.

He considered the human's question for a moment. While most of his samples were acquired for medical necessity, he couldn't deny a certain curiosity about other life forms and ecosystems.

"On occasion I have collected specimens from planets we've visited, simply for observational study," Ratchet admitted. He walked over to retrieve a data pad containing photos and analyses of plant samples from their recent away missions. "Here, let me show you some I recorded on our last stop." Ratchet enlarged the images for the human to easily see. "This radiation-resistant lichen seems to secrete a natural antifreeze. And these fungi act as natural air filters in their toxic environment." The medic's optics glinted with interest as he discussed his findings. Perhaps exploration held some appeal, even for a skeptic like himself.

They stand close to Ratchet looking over different specimens, “some of these plants look like they would make really nice perfumes'' they mumble while flicking through the different photos reading the small information bubbles around them. As the human stood near Ratchet examining the data on his specimens, something about their scent suddenly registered in his olfactory sensors. An overly sweet aroma was emanating strongly from their skin, but it was clearly not the normal scent of an unadulterated human.“perfume?forgive me, I'm not accustomed to what that is?” he asked with a raised optical ridge

Their eyes flicker to Ratchet. “It's like scented alcohol or oil we put on our skin, most times it alters our scent. We humans happen to have a big fascination with them, and have millions of different perfumes.” they explain before tilting their head in slight amusement. “I'm surprised Cybertronians don't have something similar” they reply.

“once millennia's back cybertron did try making things like that, but due to our metallic body's it doesn't stay on us, or it tented to cause rust spots from the ones they did try and make” Ratchet explained, sensors flared as he analysed the unfamiliar composition, immediately detecting unusual chemical traces that seemed to send strange pulses through his neurocircuitry. The smell was strangely enticing yet worryingly off-kilter at the same time. He tried venting deeply to clear his nasal chamber but the scent only grew stronger.

"What in the Allspark..." the medic muttered, not meaning for the human to hear. His optics dimmed slightly as redundant calibrations ran, trying to make sense of why the scent was affecting his processor. Ratchet crouched down and focused his sharp gaze on the human in concern. They smile up at him offering for him to examine.

"By my scanner it seems as if you've been contaminated with something. Are you positive these ‘perfumes’ are safe? I need to analyse your system for potential toxins." He asked while trying to figure out why the scent was having such an effect on him, it was as if his processor had thrown care to the wind.

They let out a laugh as his optics try analysing, he moves closer taking another inhale of their scent "haha yes Ratchet, it isn't harmful, humans have been using it for hundreds of years" they state. “Ratchet are you alright?” They ask while cupping his face.

Ratchet's sensors were in disarray as the potent scent overwhelmed his circuits. He vented heavily again, coolant failing to properly flush the heated energon now racing through his fuel lines. His optics flickered with minor instability as calibration errors cropped up across multiple systems.

Though lacking his usual gruffness. Ratchet leaned in closer, trying to pinpoint the source, but only succeeded in inhaling more of the intoxicating aroma. A rumble rose in his chassis against his better judgement. “ your scent...", he struggled to find words between fragmented logic protocols. "It's affecting my sensor net. Overloading my functions. I need to...run a full examination. Determine why this perfume is making your scent overwhelming..."

His field pulsed with uncharacteristic confusion and static electricity. Ratchet knew he should contact someone for assistance, but found himself unable to call out in his muddled state. The human's safety was his top concern, yet he feared touching them in this condition. Some natural, impossible chemistry was at play here, and the medic had no control over his compromised systems.

As gently as his shaking grip allowed, Ratchet grasped the human in his large palm to properly scan them from close range. His detailed medical scanners searched every inch, They gasp as Ratchet glossa meets their throat, fingers shootout to grip the side of his faceplate.

A throttled moan escaped his vocalizer against his will. That light touch from their hands nearly shorted out his already fritzing systems. vents plume in hot exhaust. His interface panel felt too hot and tight , barely clinging to integrity protocols as the pleasure centres of his processor went haywire.

“your scent...overloading my sensory net...cannot...resist...” Ratchet calls out through groans,his grip unconsciously tightened around the small organic in his hand. His free hand scrambled for purchase on the table, denting the metal. Something primal and powerful part of him was unravelling his mental restraints, and no calibration or forced shutdown seemed able to stop it.

Their eyes go wide. "Ratchet! Are you alright do in need to get a Perceptor or first aid?" They ask as the medic leans down into their shoulder, denta nipping at the skin as his digits try removing their shirt as quickly as he physically can. They yelp as he pulls them back together with him, his lips work along their smaller frame desperate to taste the sweet flavour and scent that had taken to their skin. capturing them against his heaving chassis. His optics blazed with static and uncontrolled charge.

"No...don't leave," Ratchet growled through clenched denta. Every fibre of his being screamed for more. His panel snapping open with an echoing click, massively engorged cables twitching in the open. Coolant and lubricant poured from his interface array, drenching the human involuntarily as he grinding against them, bright glowing pink stains their pants and paints their skin in his transfluid.

His hands trembled, barely able to restrain their desire to claim the tiny body before him. Rational thought was impossible under the onslaught of chemical signals frying his cognition. Ratchet bucked erratically against them, whole body illuminated by dancing electricity.

"Need you... interface protocols are in-gauged, can't fight it...please,!" he pants to the human as his spike presses against their back. Blunt node swelled monstrously at its tip.

Their back arches into each grind of Ratchet's spike. “Ratchet!” They whine out.

Their soft noises egg ratchet on, his servos move quickly, trying to discard the pants sticking to their form, he hisses out in annoyance before finally getting them off their legs, throwing them across the medical room. Twisting them around so he can see thier eyes.

Ratchet growls eagerly spike swiftly sliding between their thighs and against their stomach. His spike is already dripping with lubricant. As he ruts against them. Each inhale of their scent has him spiralling more.

"Is this what you want, sweetspark? My spike filling you up?" His voice is rough with lust. Gently spreading their legs wider. Watching the bright pink stick to their legs "Primus... I bet you feel amazing."

He moves slowly pressing his spike against them, tormenting as he presses into them inch by inch. Needy moans leave their lips, hands clinging to him desperately as they roll their hips. “Ratchet!” They cry out.

Their stomach bulges from Ratchet's spike, the bright pink splatter across their skin nearly has ratchet overloading from the mere sensation, not to mention the intoxicating scent of their skin. Ratchet groans deeply at the sight of his spike bulging their abdomen, his engines rumbling with feral satisfaction. One hand strokes almost reverently over the taut swell.

"So stunning like this... stretched wide around me, primus so small and tight”

Slowly he draws his hips back, then thrusts forward, grinding deeply into them. setting a steady pace, rockin into the slick heat enveloping his spike. Ducking his head, he captures their shoulder between his denta, glossa flicking against the sensitive skin as he tries to lap the perfume from their skin.

Ratchet growls deeply, thrusting harder at the way they clench around his spike. The table creaks and trembles under the force of his movements but he can't bring himself to slow down.

"Yes, just like that," he rasps. "Keep that sweet valve squeezing me. Feels so good..."

captures their cries in a heated kiss. "Want you to overload for me," Ratchet purrs. "Let me feel you come undone around my spike, sweetspark..."

His engines are roaring furiously now, spike swelling and throbbing powerfully inside their smaller body. Ratchet groans deeply as they clench around him again, the feeling of that slick heat clenching and rippling around his spike is incredible.

"That's it love, overload for me... you feel exquisite. So good"

The sensations quickly become too much for his own systems to bear,the feeling, scent and the pure primal heat running through his system hits hard. With a staticky shout of Julian's name, he buries himself to the hilt and overloads powerfully. His transfluid gushes hot and thick, pumping deep into their smaller form.

His engines vent heavily as he leans over them, face pressed into their shoulder, a deep guttural moan leaves him, Shuddering with aftershocks. When he finally leans stack to take in their exhaust and truly used form their lungs desperately inhale and exhale drawing in air as if it was their life line.

Bright pink transfluid pudding around them as Ratchet's systems finally subsided. His optics flicker on them. “ Are you alright?” he asked softly, his human companion replied with a soft whine and nod. “ Remind me not to wear my perfume out in public” the call out in shuttered words. It makes ratchet chuckle as he leans back down to them. “a wise decision”

#transformers #transformers x human #transformers idw #transformers x reader #transformers lost light #transformers prime #ratchet #ratchet tfp #transformers ratchet #tfp ratchet #ratchet transformers #ratchet mtmte #mtmte transformers #mtmte #idw transformers #tf idw #valve plug #valveplug

174 notes · View notes

mindblowingscience · 9 months

Text

Engineers have developed nanoscale tattoos—dots and wires that adhere to live cells—in a breakthrough that puts researchers one step closer to tracking the health of individual cells. The new technology allows for the first time the placement of optical elements or electronics on live cells with tattoo-like arrays that stick on cells while flexing and conforming to the cells’ wet and fluid outer structure. “If you imagine where this is all going in the future, we would like to have sensors to remotely monitor and control the state of individual cells and the environment surrounding those cells in real time,” says David Gracias, a professor of chemical and biomolecular engineering at Johns Hopkins University who led the development of the technology. “If we had technologies to track the health of isolated cells, we could maybe diagnose and treat diseases much earlier and not wait until the entire organ is damaged.”

#science #stem #biology #tech #biotechnology #nanotechnology #health #medicine

77 notes · View notes

kosmonautensuppe · 3 months

Text

Data and imagery from NASA’s Perseverance Mars rover indicate one of two covers that keep dust from accumulating on the optics of the SHERLOC instrument remains partially open. In this position, the cover interferes with science data collection operations. Mounted on the rover’s robotic arm, SHERLOC (Scanning Habitable Environments with Raman & Luminescence for Organics and Chemicals) uses cameras, a spectrometer, and a laser to search for organic compounds and minerals that have been altered in watery environments and may be signs of past microbial life.

The mission determined on Jan. 6 that the cover was oriented in such a position that some of its operation modes could not successfully operate. An engineering team has been investigating to determine the root cause and possible solutions. Recently, the cover partially opened. To better understand the behavior of the cover’s motor, the team has been sending commands to the instrument that alter the amount of power being fed to it.

With the cover in its current position, the instrument cannot use its laser on rock targets, and cannot collect spectroscopy data.

However, imaging microscopy can still be acquired with WATSON, a color camera on SHERLOC used for taking close-up images of rock grains and surface textures. WATSON (Wide Angle Topographic Sensor for Operations and eNgineering) operates through a different aperture.

#january the 6th...sherlock holmes birthday...maybe a bit too much 7% solution?#mars #perseverance #sherlock holmes #john watson #nasa

17 notes · View notes

materialsscienceandengineering · 4 months

Text

Researchers optimize 3D printing of optically active nanostructures

For about 20 years, it has been possible to modify surfaces via nanoparticles so that they concentrate or manipulate light in a desired way or trigger other reactions. Such optically active nanostructures can be found in solar cells and biological or chemical sensors, for example. In order to expand the range of applications for these nanostructures, researchers at the Institute of Electron Microscopy and Nanoanalysis (Graz University of Technology) and the Graz Center of Electron Microscopy (ZFE) have been working for more than a decade on manufacturing not only flat nanostructures, but in particular complex, free-standing 3D architectures. The team led by Harald Plank, Verena Reisecker and David Kuhness has achieved two breakthroughs. It is now possible to precisely simulate the required shapes and sizes of nanostructures in advance to achieve desired optical properties, which can then be accurately produced. The team has also managed to completely remove chemical impurities incorporated during initial production without negatively impacting the 3D nanoarchitectures.

14 notes · View notes

robot-thighs · 1 year

Text

I definitely poured my heart and soul into a TF sex pollen fic. There's not enough simpatico content in the world, so I'm afraid I need to start cooking my own food. Here's a little piece - full fic is linked on ao3

“Brainstorm. How many times will it take before you—?”

Perceptor’s stern voice was cut off by the sensor-splitting wail of klaxons, punctuating the reprimand with the chaotic deployment of security protocols. Brainstorm sidestepped away from the wreckage of the current project on his workbench, coughing and sputtering smoke from his vents. Methodically, he grabbed the nearest extinguisher and sprayed the smoldering mess down, then quickly hit the switch for the ventilation hood. A miscalculation - but where? He stopped in the middle of the commotion to consider it, even as the overhead sirens filled the room with chaotic red noise. He’d looked at the equation dozens of times now. Hundreds, even. He couldn’t find a fault in his math. But predictably, despite his confidence, the material resonance converter had blown up in his face for the twelfth time. This had been the most spectacular one yet.

Perceptor had abandoned the chemical experiment at his workstation and moved quickly to one of the lab terminals to access the ship’s computer. The security blast doors lowered as he typed, sounding an ominous thud that undercut the sirens as they slammed shut outside the lab doors. His stance stiffened.

Brainstorm froze in dubiety. “What’d you close the blast doors for?”

“I didn’t.” Perceptor’s voice was sharp enough to cut above the alarm without really reaching the level of a yell, which Brainstorm found both breathtakingly hot and infuriatingly groundless. “I’m trying to disengage the security protocols, but the controls aren’t responding.”

Brainstorm cringed behind his mask and walked over to the terminal to loom at Perceptor’s shoulder. He lowered the sensitivity of his input volume but still put his hands over his audials as the alarm drilled into his processor. “Can you at least shut off the alarm?”

The look Perceptor turned on him was piercing enough to take a mech out halfway across the sector. Sufficiently chagrined, Brainstorm raised his hands in a disarmed gesture and backpedaled a step.

Perceptor resumed ticking at the console. Brainstorm almost had time to admire the collected concentration in his expression, the tiny pinch between his optical ridges that he totally didn’t think about kissing. Ever. Then the sirens finally stopped. Brainstorm cycled his optics as the red flashing subsided and the normal halogen lights of the lab came back in a harsh white. The sudden silence allowed him to let out a vent he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

His laugh was sheepish. Perceptor was still typing at the console, expression no less consternated than before. “Whew. Well that was bracing. I must have forgotten to carry a three somewhere.”

“I can’t seem to open the blast doors,” Perceptor said with a chill of irritation. “That protocol is not responding to my commands.”

“Huh.” Brainstorm’s wings tilted in some unspoken question. He turned back to his work bench and reluctantly started pulling at some of the broken components, privately sneering at the retardant foam that clung to the mess. He felt a pang of regret go through his spark. There wasn’t much here left to salvage. He’d probably be better off sweeping this entire mess into the trash. He peeled a blasted metal panel aside to find the wiring underneath completely scorched. Well, frag. The rest of his eventual reply came out snappish. “So what?”

“So, we are trapped in the lab until the blast doors open.”

“Can we override them from here?”

“I’ve tried.”

Brainstorm glanced over to find Perceptor giving the console a withering glare. “Do they time out or anything?”

Perceptor didn’t answer him. He touched the comm panel next to the door and spoke into it curtly. “Captains. We have a problem with the security system in the lab.”

An expectant moment passed. Brainstorm busied himself with scooping some of the mess off of his desk and into a waste bin. Then the comm crackled with a reply.

“Perceptor,” Megatron’s voice was colored with tinny apprehension over the speaker. “Is there a situation?”

“Not precisely.” Perceptor’s answer was measured with caution as he kept a hand pressed to the intercom panel. “There was…” He hesitated. Brainstorm craned slightly to catch his expression. “A minor incident, but I believe the security protocols were engaged erroneously. We have things under control, but the blast doors won’t respond to override commands on our end.”

“What were you guys doing in there, blowing stuff up?” Rodimus’s voice joined the comm, sounding farther away.

When Perceptor didn’t answer, Rodimus’s voice piped up again. “Oh shit, really?”

“The situation has been handled,” Perceptor said with a faint lash of irritation. “My more pressing concern at the moment is our ability to leave the lab.”

“We will have the security team investigate it,” Megatron cut in. “Will you be alright remaining in the lab until then?”

“No need to worry, captain.” Brainstorm maneuvered over to Perceptor’s side and raised his voice to the intercom, toweling a cloth over his hands to wipe away the retardant. “We’ve got plenty to keep us busy. Hell, we probably won’t even notice when the blast doors finally do open up. That’s how busy we are.”

#maccadam #transformers #simpatico #mtmte #lost light #brainstorm #perceptor #tf brainstorm #tf perceptor #valveplug #my writing #lemon #posts simpatico smut twice in the same day lol #what's up simpatico tag

45 notes · View notes

seytazen · 2 years

Note

“Is that blood?” tfp ratchet with any of the humans

Ratchet remembers the first time he ever had seen human blood. He had been a medic a long time and had seen many gruesome things. He had repaired those gruesome things and it had never bothered him in the slightest. For a very long time, he didn’t think there was anything that would ever really squick him out. That is, until he started learning of all things that made up humans.

He remembered physically recoiling when June had described to him what their internals were actually like. How a human was really just a complicated bag of various goo, fluids, and stuff that was squishy which was piloted by an even more complicated mound of squishy-ness that did all of these things by exerting various chemicals and electrical impulses.

And all of it was wet.

All the time.

He had turned his back for a mere moment. He swears it wasn’t even 60 seconds. He had turned his optics away from them to glance at some tests he had running a few meters away from him while he supervised the children playing around on the floor when he heard the sickening thud, followed by a wail of pain.

Every medical protocol he had yanked his attention a million different ways when he turned around to see Miko sitting on with her knees now exposed and bearing several red streaks. He had paused seeing the streaks noting that the fall had torn her clothes. He distinctly remembered thinking about how he didn’t know that humans could get paint transfers… and where had the red come from?

“Ow ow ow!!!” She whined loudly, sitting back on her hands, which also bore similar streaks. Ratchet frowned, kneeling down next to her with a soft sigh as Jack and Raf both went running for the first aid kit.

“Are you alright?” He asked her, frowning at the sharp smell that was suddenly permeating through the air. It tanged in his olfactory sensors in a way that was similar to iron. It was a sticky metallic scent that clung to him. That’s when he saw the small red droplets beading up from the streaks, how they fell against her form in a small flow.

His optics had widened when the pieces clicked together. The brilliant red substance dribbled from the cuts, seeping into the cloth. How it dribbled on the floor, leaving hot droplets of red.

He had soothed Miko over relatively easily by holding her in his hand while she looked at how many seams and different plates his servos were made up of. She and him had talked about how his servos were made differently, made to be more sensitive and with more refined motor skills. The treatment had been more painful than the initial injury is what he had gathered.

How he wished that were the case now.

He couldn’t even begin to piece together why and how he had gotten himself here. How the team was off somewhere else, he didn’t even know if they were together or not. Now, it was dark and humid with fog around him around him, and his vents came heavy and unevenly. He struggled to calm them and to make his frame be quiet when he ducked into the brush and slid down into the dried river bed hurriedly, Fowler remained somewhat limp in his cupped hands. He pressed him close against his chest, covering him as he shut his optics tightly to eliminate the light they emit and he held his breath.

The choppers thundered over head and engines roared around them. Bright search lights illuminated through the fog. Human voices drifting around them for a terrifying moment before they all moved on to search deeper in the wooded area they were in. Ratchet waited an agonizing moment, listening to them disappear over the horizon, listening to the deafening silence they left in their wake. He counted the hundreds of seconds between that time before he dared to open his optics again. He sagged against the wall of dried mud before he carefully unfolded his servos in the dark. The dim moonlight and the soft cyan glow from his optics illuminated them along with the human in them faintly.

“I think we lost them…” he told him in a soft hushed voice, his free servo traveling to his audial to comm base but unfortunately he was met with only static. He carefully set Fowler on his shoulder as he continued to try. “My comm must have been damaged in the initial skirmish. Do you still have your…” he trailed off when he heard just how labored Fowler’s breathing was. “Fowler…?” He asked softly, turning his helm and watching as his silhouette struggled with the jacket wrapped around him. That was when the smell hit him. It drifted up to meet him, coy and metallic, clinging to the inside of his vents. “Is… Is that blood?” He asked softly.

“Got a light, doc…?” He asked weakly, his voice was trembling in pain. Ratchet dug in his subspace grabbing the small flashlight typically used to check optic reaction. Mentally, he hoped that the smell was being worsened by something. That it was just a scrape or a cut. He flipped it on with a small click. His ground his denta together upon seeing the dark red stain spread across the white button up all up his right side.

Cold nausea gripped his internals and his spark seized in a long forgotten kind of panic. It was the kind of panic that experience had worn away for him. The panic that he chastised young medics for getting lost in. The kind of panic that made him scream at people to get out of his medbay and out of his way. It was a cold kind of terror that made it hard to remember how to move or think, and you could only stare helplessly as it engulfed you.

“Damn fuckers shot me,” he explained still rather shaky as he undid the button up with stiff, clammy hands and clumsily took it off of him. His audials were ringing a little bit from the dread coursing through him. He had never seen a human lose so much blood before. A snapping sound caught his attention again. He blinked looking down at Fowler. “Hey, I know it looks bad, but you gotta help me out doc. Do me a favor, tear this into strips, alright?”

Ratchet silently nodded, mentally chastising himself for losing his thoughts. The smell was getting worse. Much worse. He propped the small light up on a divot in the riverbed as he worked, tearing the small piece of fabric into strips like he was asked. He noticed the shiny red gleam that had seeped into the many seams and joints on his hands. He could feel the wetness now that it was cooling off in the cool damp night air. He carefully collected Fowler from his perch on his shoulder so the human could have more room. Fowler grimaced and grunted in pain as he worked to pack the wound down and wrap a strip around himself to apply pressure.

“Here, use help me put more pressure on this, it’s too painful for me to do it myself,” he grunted, gesturing towards Ratchet carefully pressed his thumb over the leaking wound. Fowler groaned in pain, tightening his grip on the plating on the medic’s servos.

Ratchet and him sat in the dimly lit silence for a long time. Ratchet focused on Fowler’s breathing, noting how it was still shaky and irregular. “Fowler?” He asked.

“Yeah?”

“Is this… fatal?” He asked.

“Maybe… if I don’t get some medical help soon,” he replied with a nervous pained chuckle.

“What do I do if…” Ratchet trailed off, not really being able to finish the sentence. He hated this feeling of helplessness.

Fowler hummed faintly letting his head roll back all the way. “If I pass out, keep pressure on the wound and take me to June if you can... If I stop breathing… well then I guess I’m shit outta luck and you did everything you could. Prime will find us, and you’ll take me back to base so I can be buried in a flag. But, hey, I’m not dead yet. I still got some fight in me and Prime is gonna find us. Got it?”

Ratchet met his eyes. He shifted slightly, giving him a small smile and a nod, merely hoping he was right. He cupped him close to keep him shielded from the chilly breeze as they made small talk while while the fog settled around them, hiding them from hostile eyes as they waited to be rescued or for dawn to break.

#transformers #tfp #headcanon #daily does of headcanons #seytazen’s drabbles #seytazen’s asks #tfp ratchet #tfp agent William Fowler #agent fowler #angst

145 notes · View notes

bizarrementation · 3 months

Text

one 18.25 oz package chocolate cake mix. 1 can prepared coconut pecan frosting, 3/4 cup vegetable oil, 4 large eggs, 1 cup semi sweet chocolate chips, 3/4 cup butter or margarine, soften 1 and 2/3 cups granulated sugar, 3 large eggs, 1 teaspoon vanilla extract, 2 cups all purpose flour, 2/3 cup cocoa, 1 and 1/4 teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon baking powder, 1 and 1/3 cups water, 1 ?? 16 oz each cans vanilla frosting. don't forget garnishes such as fish shaped crackers, fish shaped candies, fish shaped solid waste, fish shapes dirt, fish shaped ethylbenzene, pull and peel licorice, fish shaped volatile organic compounds and sediment shaped sediment, a 20 ft. thick impermeable clay layer, candy coated peanut butter pieces shaped like fish, blue and yellow food colours, alpha resins, unsaturated polyester resin, fiberglass surface resins and volatile melted milk impoundments, 9 large egg yolks, 12 medium geosynthetic membranes, 3 large whole eggs, 1 cup granulated sugar, 1 cup lemon juice, for immunosensors. 2 cups heavy cream 3 tablespoons granulated sugar. 2 egg based gelled flame fuels. 2 cups rhubarb sliced. 2/3 cup granulated rhubarb. 1 tablespoon all purpose rhubarb. one tablespoon grated orange rhubarb. an entry called "how to kill someone with you bare hands". 2 teaspoons baking rhubarb. 1/2 teaspoons salt and rhubarb. 3 tablespoons rhubarb on fire. one large rhubarb. 3 tablespoons rhubarb milk. one cross bore hole electromagnetic imaging rhubarb. two tablespoons rhubarb juice. sweet potato tea cake. take me to a picnic cake. trim time chocolate cake roll. tropical snack cake. tunnel of fudge cake. sour creme pumpkin Bundt cake. spicy jalapeno chocolate cake. upside down apple coffee cake. upside down rhubarb cake. upside down flux sampling device cake.

vanilla crazy cake. vanilla crazy cake. vanilla. crazy. cake. vanilla crazy. cake. vanilla crazy. cake. vanilla. crazy cake. vanilla crazy. cake vanilla. crazy cake. vanilla crazy cake. vanilla crazy cake. vanilla. crazy. cake. vanilla crazy. cake. vanilla crazy. cake vanilla. crazy cake. vanilla crazy. cake vanilla. crazy cake. nutcracker sweet ginger walnut thermal reactor loaf. old fashioned fibre optic relative humidity sensor cake, old south prune cake. one bowl chocolate cake with easy laser induced fluorescent frosting, persimmon pudding cake. pineapple upside down cake 1, pineapple upside down cake 2, pineapple upside down cake 3, arm and hand positioner, full width plastic body positioners, multi block plastic body positioners, extremities positioner, aluminium body bridges, plastic lower body positioner. pineapple upside down cake 4, adjustable aluminum head positioner, disposable polystyrene head blocks, slaughter electric needle injector, cordless electric needle injector, injector needle driver, injector needle gun. cranial caps malformers. rhubarb and rhubarb and rhubarb and rhubarb. and rhubarb. and it contains proven preservatives, deep penetration agents and gas and odor control chemicals that will deodorize and preserve putrid tissue as well as areas of the body that arterial embalming may have missed. and rhubarb. okay, we're even now. you can stop.

2 notes · View notes

lord-squiggletits · 1 year

Note

"blind Pharma au" Please tell me more 👀

Oh shit hiiiiii dsklfjsd I'll try to write down some sorta interesting details in bullet points, I don't really have a specific "plot" for it or anything it's literally just, "everything is the same but Pharma was born blind" so here goes. Also, warning for made-up medicine, sketchy biology/scientific knowledge, and lots of headcanons

Pharma was still a forged medic, only when he finished forging everything about him was top notch except his optics. They're still there on his face and look like any seeing mech's eyes, it's just that there's just no connection between his eyes and his brain for whatever reason

This leads to a lot of discussion of what classification he should be put underneath, as Pharma has beautiful medic hands (scientific class) but is also a flight frame (typically consigned to transportation or soldiering) but is blind so how is he supposed to do any of those things (disposable class)? Pharma is sitting there through all this and gets increasingly irate at these mechs calling him useless because he can't see and this is apparently a big deal. From Pharma's perspective, he has all the tools he needs to live a normal life, but apparently because he's not "seeing" there's something wrong with him

Pharma meanwhile was forged with plenty of extra strong senses including keen hearing, echolocation, electromagnetic sensors, sonar, etc even sensitive touch and taste and smell. He can walk around and avoid colliding with other mechs without aid. He can detect objects around him even if they're of very small size.

Somehow or another Pharma ends up successfully becoming a doctor (maybe they just decided they didn't want to waste a forged medic or something) and his medical hands + his increased senses actually allow him to do just fine. Things that other mechs would observe with their eyes, Pharma can sense through his hands but also unorthodox senses like tasting/smelling faint chemical traces in the air and being able to hear small changes in patients' organs and whatnot

Yes, Pharma gets a lot of questions about "but how can you fly if you're blind???" and his answer is always that his alt mode works just fine, he just avoids flying in the city because he doesn't want to get hit by anyone.

Which actually means that Pharma spends a lot of time living among ground-frames (taking public transportation instead of flying, living in an apartment with ground floors instead of high towers flight frames usually favor) and thus he becomes accustomed to near-constant attention and more or less being a spectacle. As a result, Pharma really doesn't like being stared at or having people crowd too close to him (sometimes people on the bus would get...touchy with him, with the wonder of seeing a flight frame on the ground and all).

Pharma could navigate on his own and do his job without disability aids, but he does buy a cane at some point just because it makes things a little easier (and also he can stab/whack people with it "by accident" if they get in his personal space)

Eventually, Pharma saves enough money from his job as a doctor to buy a seeing eye drone (this is why I was reblogging your art with "blind Pharma AU" :3c ). I imagine the drone also has flying capabilities and can augment Pharma's senses with its own due to some Cybertronian Bluetooth connection or something. It gives Pharma enough extra sensory and spatial information that he CAN do things like fly in crowded areas, since the drone can help him navigate traffic and guide him from open area to open area

Why doesn't Pharma just get his eyes fixed or something? A couple of reasons, one being that Pharma insists that there's nothing to fix out of pride. From the moment he came online people talked about him like he was defective just because he couldn't see, and frankly Pharma is so offended about it that he partially wants to remain blind just to spite everyone who thinks he's odd or can't be a good doctor

Another reason that Pharma doesn't "fix his eyes" could possibly be that the cause of his blindness isn't well known (he was forged, not cold constructed, which means there are no "schematics" to explain how each piece of his frame works) and Pharma is afraid of letting anyone tinker with his body or especially his brain without knowing exactly what the potential side effects of surgery could be. I mean, Pharma literally works for the Institute before the war; he knows exactly what things like shadowplay are capable of doing, and quite frankly, he doesn't want to even risk anyone getting inside of his brain and tampering with something that could completely alter his mind

That's about everything I can think of offhand ^_^ I'm happy to answer any follow-up questions or maybe dig through my Discord DMs if you want more details!

#squiggle answers #blind pharma au #oh i forgot you also ship tarnma #well another detail there is that tarn uses a distinct oil fragrance (he would the fucker)#and pharma can smell it distinctly and can recognize tarn that way even when tarn thinks he's catching pharma unawares

11 notes · View notes

zoomzooml · 11 months

Note

given various sensors and optics, how does cybertronian stealth work? or is changing color enough to fool the every day cybertronian, and the actual commandos are the ones with special eyesight?

Well, most of the time even Spark's signature is undetectable, so in this respect the 'Cybs aren't much different from Earth life forms. Before anything else, stay quiet and out of sight, bonus points if you move around often enough to leave no obvious chemical or energetic traces of your presence.

It really depends. Enough when used properly, so among other things, you should still stay in the shadows (doesn't have to be literally lol) and not get too close to enemies.

Special eyesight would rather be a special skill or upgrade, but some models statistically have more of certain types of eyesight. For example, aviators are more likely to have farsightedness than ground models. Those units can see sharper at longer distances, but they pay for it with blurring of close objects. Though it's not a rule for any model.

#ask #anonim #tfcheesy #sorry for late reply

5 notes · View notes

primadomina · 2 years

Note

"You...are not my Galvatron, are you?"

@forged-through-flames

“Your Galvatron?”

Her voice is the soft murmur of a polishing cloth over the blade of a sword as she leans in closer, coalfire optics a bright blaze in the shadow she casts over Rodimus. She’s braced an arm against the wall next to him, trapping him there as she presses in even closer— sniffing at him, given the way her stained lips have parted to draw in atmosphere over hidden chemical sensors in the roof of her mouth.

The massive artillery platform growls at Rodimus, low and resonant from somewhere deep in her chassis.

“Galvatron belongs to no one. Neither god nor mech can master me! Especially not a flimsy, snot-nosed brat of a Prime, boy.”

3 notes · View notes

nn1895 · 2 years

Text

AU August Fic 25

Mad Scientist

Most bots thought of science as chemicals in beakers or mad engineers building time dilation devices.

They all ignored the subtle science of cybertronian anatomy. The danger in a well designed pede and the poetry of a perfectly sculpted bumper.

The perfectly sculpted bumper in front of him, put stars in Jazz’s optics. It was a perfect mixture of sleek and tough, expertly designed to balance speed and ramming ability. The curve alone!

Jazz was not, however, blindsided by a perfect bumper to the point that he ignored the rest of the gorgeous, gorgeous anatomy.

Where to start? Top or bottom. Heh, ‘bottom.’

The mech’s pedes were not pretty in the same way his bumper was, but the sheer craftsmanship that had gone into them was dazzling. Jazz watched each tiny hydraulic cylinder compress as the mech shifted from pede to pede, the shaft pressing inwards with the weight and easing out as he lifted his pedes. It must have been like walking on air. The moving parts, spinning and pumping and cranking, were dizzying to watch.

As his optics moved upwards, Jazz could see the cables and sensors peeking out from behind the armor plating. Each leg was thick - heavily armored and strung with thick and thin cables. It allowed the mech the choice of powerful gross movement or delicate precision. Jazz felt an ache in his digits - he wanted to stroke his servos over those smooth shinplates and up those round thighs…

His hips were very wide - perfect for resting weight on be it his own or a partner’s. While the mech was in pursuit the hip joints would take the heavy pounding if he was running. Whatever bumps weren’t compensated for by the hydraulic suspension in his pedes, would be evenly distributed over his hips to reduce vibration and damage to his torso and sparkcase.

It seemed wrong at first, for the waist to be so small and trim compared to the generousness of his legs and hips. However, as Jazz stared looked he realized the narrow waist gave him nearly 180 degree bend and twist. The armor around his central column was made up of many interlocking plates, creating a thick, but flexible shield. Flexibility was always…good.

Jazz shifted and bit down hard on his thumb, trying not to imagine that flexibility too much.

His chest was broad and deep. Jazz had heard him speak and it was like a rumble of thunder. His shoulders obviously held a trio of missile each, if the lines in his plating was any indication. Yet they were so smooth and polished, it seemed impossible that they could transform. Jazz imagined the plating folding out like a flower as the weapons sprung forward, hot and charged and -

Oh, he might need to step outside. Jazz tried to discreetly increase his fans and pressed his back against the coolness of the window behind him.

His chest was impressive, not counting that perfect, perfect bumper.

The helm was striking. Plain white, rounded, with cheek guards. A single adornment - a sharp, red chevron - was the only flash of color.

His face, well, Jazz had always had a thing for the stoic type. Pale blue optics and a stern mouth. A chin that looked like it had taken a few hits - which only intrigued Jazz more.

Behind him, held stiffly, were the ultimate temptations. If rumors were true, those elegant, thick doorwings were sensor rich. Jazz wanted to locate each sensor and give it the attention it deserved. Preferably while the mech was pinned on his front -

“Thermal-Blend with sprinkles for Jazz!” called the barista.

Jazz wasn’t sure if it was good or terrible timing. He felt a step away from combusting and he had a feeling the crowded cafe would notice something like that.

He had to be careful in the colonies. It wasn’t as easy to disappear. He had to leave behind his old profession and his old skills. Things like that wouldn’t go unnoticed here. Such few bots made patterns easier to see.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he bumped into someone, holding his cube close to his chest so it didn’t spill. He looked up.

Oh. He didn’t think he’d get to study the bumped up close.

“It is alright. You are new to this colony?”

Jazz nodded, trying to keep his optics fixed on the other mech’s instead of letting them slip down to -

“Just left Cybertron last week. Thought it would be a good change.”

“It is. I am Captain of the Enforcers here. If you need anything, you only need to ask.”

An Enforcer. Of course he was. Built for combat and pursuit. Scrap.

“Thanks. We’ll probably be seein’ a lot of each other,” Jazz said, before his processor caught up with him. He wasn’t supposed to be taunting the enforcers!

“Oh?” The enforcer tilted his lovely helm. “What is your function?”

Jazz looked the mech up and down as his processor ran a mile a minute. Well, he had said he was going to go straight once he got to the colonies…

“Scientist,” Jazz said, leaning back against the door frame. “I’m a scientist.”

#transformers #maccadam #maccadams #transformers fanfiction #jazz x prowl

6 notes · View notes