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theicescorpions · 24 days

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Primal Fire

Wheeljack never escaped the Decepticons after the fall of the Autobot Base. Instead he was given to Shockwave as a test subject. Through a series of horrific experiments, Wheeljack is no longer a normal Cybertronian. He’s been turned into a Predacon. When Starscream and Knockout cause a zombie outbreak on the Nemesis, Wheeljack escapes. Now out for revenge and seeking to learn how to control his new body he finds an unlikely new friend, another Predacon experiment who was long thought dead.

Story inspired by @sugarand-everythingnice and her “Of Flesh and Steel” AU

Chapter One: Rebirth

Choking, Burning with white hot fire, Wheeljack struggled within the viscous fluid that filled his containment cylinder. Unspeakable pain, relentless agony, time ceased to exist. Only this torture and a deepening hatred of those who condemned him to this hell.

He’d been captured by the Decepticons and instead of sentencing him to death after they rooted around in his head he’d been given to Shockwave as a test subject.

Wheeljack couldn’t hear or see anything and whatever that one eyed freak was doing to him the only thing Wheeljack was aware of was that it felt like his armor had been melted away leaving only his protoform behind and the mad scientist was playing ‘operation’ while keeping him alive and aware of every bit of pain.

Eventually he felt his body begin to itch and new armor beginning to grow across his protoform and the tube seemed to shrink and there was no more room to thrash or fight the pain and he was left to curl into a tight ball to fit into the increasingly small space.

Wheeljack could feel his mind slip in and out of consciousness and his memories became fuzzy and hard to grasp. He clutched tightly to the memory of Team Prime, Bulkhead and Miko and the last memory he had of his carrier. As the memories grew harder to remember something changed.

He heard alarms and the thick glass around him cracking then blaster fire. As the blaster fire receded, Wheeljack flexed and stretched, hearing the glass around him crack even more.

He knew he had to break free before it was too late. His movements grew more frenzied as the Decepticons were too preoccupied with their own battle to notice his struggle. His mind reeling with the idea of freedom after what felt like an eternity of misery.

With one last surge of strength, Wheeljack burst through the glass, shards flying in all directions. He spilled out onto the floor in a heap. His frame immediately heaved and he began purging a fluorescent yellow goo from his system and he gasped for fresh air.

He looked around, his mind hazy. Everything seemed so much smaller. He forced himself to stand and was startled that he couldn’t stand on two legs. Then he looked up and the reflection of the face he saw wasn’t his own. It was a monster from one of Miko’s movies. Wheeljack recoiled back but heard more blaster fire and screaming. No time to figure out what the hell was happening he had to get out before Shockwave came back and continued whatever this was.

He awkwardly found his footing after tripping and falling over his feet and his tail??? This was so fucked.

Wheeljack's head swam as he stumbled forward, each movement sending jolts of pain through his circuits, his new form feeling foreign and unwieldy. The sounds of battle echoed around him, the cacophony of blaster fire and shouting spurring him on. He needed to find his way out, away from the Decepticons and their torturous experiments.

As he moved through the dimly lit corridors, Wheeljack couldn't help but marvel at the strength in his new limbs, the sharp claws at the end of his digitigrade legs clicking against the metal floor with each step. His tail swished behind him, a constant reminder of his altered state.

Rounding a corner, Wheeljack froze as he came face to face with a group of Decepticons. They stared at him in shock, backing away at the sight of this unfamiliar creature before them.

Without hesitation, Wheeljack lunged forward, his instincts taking over. He ripped apart several Decepticons and his jaws closed on the last vehicon with a sickening crunch, warm energon oozed out of its crushed frame, staining his new teeth. He ended up involuntarily swallowing the vehicon’s blood and his body immediately demanded more. He was starving. He crunched down harder, sending a larger gush of energon down his parched throat and he began to chew, devouring half of the vehicon before his head cleared enough to focus on the matter at hand.

No time to feed. Danger. Out out out. Had to get out.

Wheeljack sprinted through the halls of the Decepticon ship, He was desperate to escape this place, to be anywhere but here. He eventually made it up to the flight deck and skidded to a halt at the edge of the ship.

Looking down, Wheeljack saw a vast expanse of Forest far below him. The trees stretched out as far as the eye could see, painted in hues of green and brown. This was his only hope for freedom.

With a deep breath, Wheeljack leaped off the ship. If his frame couldn’t handle the drop, oh well. death was preferable to being recaptured. And if he died at least the pain would end.

Plummeting down towards the forest floor, Wheeljack braced himself for the impact. His armor offered little protection against the ground's unforgiving surface. As he hit the ground, he rolled, skidding across the mossy leaves and twigs with a loud crackling noise, trees splintering under the weight of his mass pin balling off of them until he finally tumbled to a stop. The pain coursed through him like wildfire, but it was a different kind of pain, overshadowed by the relief of freedom.

He lay there for a moment, gasping for air, his body heaving and trying to recover from his ordeal. The sky above him was darkening as thunder rumbled in the distance. Relief flooded his systems and the exhaustion he felt from the constant agonizing torment pulled him under, not realizing that the low sound he heard was coming from his own chest.

Wheeljack snapped back into awareness after an undetermined amount of time when he heard the underbrush rustling. A pair of golden optics met his blue ones. A reassuring thrum permeated the air and he involuntarily relaxed as the creature approached him and gently nosed his face.

His chest rumbled back a response filled with pain. The creature hummed a reassuring melody as it pierced a spot on his foreleg with a talon. Wheeljack jerked and hissed before the creature dug out a tracker and threw it away.

Wheeljack looked between the creature and the device for a moment before he realized what it was, rage boiling to the surface in a vicious hiss as he quickly smashed it with his claws angrily before losing his strength again and collapsing back to the ground.

The creature licked the wound it had made on his frame and it stopped bleeding. It then slipped its body under his and lifted him up on its back. His head hung down over its shoulder, his abnormally long neck making it so that his nose almost touched the ground.

The creature used its snout to adjust him into a more comfortable position before quickly retreating deeper into the heart of the forest.

Back on the Decepticon warship, the vampiric zombie outbreak had been contained and dealt with and Shockwave was assessing damage to the ship by order of Lord Megatron when he finally returned to his lab. The one eyed mech stared at the shattered containment cylinder and the flashing red warnings on the screens.

!Containment Breach!

Physical Alterations: Complete

Memory Wipe: Failure

Containment Protocol: Failure

Termination protocol: Failure

Tracking: Error! No tracker found

Shockwave quickly turned to report this to Megatron. Starscream and his idiotic folly have created more than five major issues on this day. And one of them was still an active threat.

Chapter Two: Monster

Also posted on Wattpad

#tfp wheeljack #wheeljack #transformers prime wheeljack #transformers prime #AU #predacon #mature #gore #unethical science #Wheeljack x OC #dark

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actualaster · 10 months

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The AU I shitpost about: Funny, silly, cute, wholesome, overflowing with adorable and fun vibes

The same AU when I'm actually writing: "So I already covered the time this literal kid turned into a beast for the first time and was immobilized with paralytic drugs while terrified and confused because he didn't know what was happening to him after nearly being killed and having his humanity violently stolen from him, but how clear do I want to make it that he's also been vivisected by the most unethical scientists in the world studying him?"

#unethical science #idk how to tag this tbh #look it is angst and hurt/comfort with lots of violence and horror aspects to it

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regallibellbright · 3 months

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Honestly I think I'd hate Arthur Cantabella less if they'd simply removed the whole "Yeah no this is a government-condoned psychological experiment" aspect.

TESTING WHAT?! No, genuinely, what? Using the contaminated groundwater/weirdass Silver Fainting Allergy and/or the flower ink as a drug? Because uh, if that's the case, then I'm pretty sure using them both in conjunction contaminates your results.

Is it something about mob mentality? In-groups and out-groups with the elaborate tech crew made of convicted witches and victims maintaining the whole illusion? In that case, I think the fact that you're drugging and gaslighting the entire experiment group is also contaminating the results.

Also the whole fantasy setting is probably a confounding variable for Something.

Okay sure parents could consent to taking part in this experiment for their children, but uh, I'm pretty sure some of these kids were born AFTER the experiment began. Given the aforementioned Large Amounts of Drugging From Multiple Origins going on here, I have some concerns!

No seriously. Please. PL vs PW writers. Give me the grant proposal Arthur Cantabella submitted to get anyone to fund this project. I know it's Bill fucking Hawks, but even he's got limits! I don't see how he benefits from half this shit even if he wants to use the other half (I assume the drugs.) Why is he paying for the rest? There's a reason why Clive is established as being a lone schemer with obscene amounts of money who's keeping all his scientists in the dark and/or coerced to keep building, and it's so that we don't have anyone there questioning why he's building an elaborate fake town populated by actors in addition to his Underground Vengeance Mecha!

The fact that you somehow managed to get this cleared as a psychological experiment establishes that you know the field of psychology exists. Why in the name of all that is holy did you think building an elaborate fake fantasy town with an elaborate magic system which you make real through the power of drugging people, knocking the ENTIRE TOWN out every time a spell is used, changing things around them to simulate "magic" using the most ridiculous Renn Faire stage crew ever, and manipulating the clocks so no one's aware time is passing, with a system that prosecutes witches and burns them so that they can join the Renn Faire Stage Crew along with their victims, and positioning yourself as the all-powerful Storyteller who writes their reality into being would be a better solution than therapy?

Honestly I'd respect "I had a god complex, lol" more. Especially for that last one, but like. In general. Descole's out there living his worst life, he KNOWS he's an asshole supervillain agent of chaos, and I respect this because he has clearly CHOSEN to be Like This. You do you, man. Ditto for Don Paolo but like, less effectively.

This is not how any of this works.

Okay, setting... ALL OF THAT aside, you're doing this because your and your best friend's young daughters are understandably incredibly traumatized because they wanted to ring the bell early and the Weirdass Groundwater-Induced "Allergy" That Makes You Faint When You Hear Silver Ringing caused them and everyone else to pass out, and as everyone in the square below was having a fire festival, this caused a massive tragic conflagration. Okay. Yeah, this is bad. (I have. MANY questions about how this bell was made, excavated, and mounted in the square without anyone ever ringing it and realizing something had happened, but we're going to gloss over those for now, it's Professor Layton and I would otherwise be all over this incredible bullshit. It's great up until it asks us to think THIS was ever a remotely reasonable idea.) One of your daughters is all but catatonic because a story you told her earlier has convinced her she either is or will be taken by The Great Witch Bezella. Sure. (You suck.) Why the FUCK is your solution based on the other one unpersoning herself to her best friend and doing all the work to make the magic real? Yeah, sure, she agreed to it. SHE'S LIKE EIGHT TO TEN. HER BEST FRIEND THINKS SHE'S AN AWFUL MONSTER AND WON'T REACT OTHERWISE. OF COURSE Eve's gonna help, but that doesn't mean you should put the entire burden on her! She is ALSO horribly traumatized to the point of repressing what happened. Get her help too. The fact that the game seems to put their actions on remotely even footing when one of them has been treated like shit since she was TEN and one of them was an adult who PURPOSEFULLY AND INTENTIONALLY set up a system that would put her in this shitty situation means that yeah, no, they fundamentally are not. Of course her decisionmaking is misguided and terrible! She's a twenty-year-old who's been horribly mistreated for more than half her life! HER DAD JUST COMMITTED SUICIDE OUT OF GUILT FOR HIS ACTIONS IN SETTING UP THIS SYSTEM.

No one's going to hold them responsible for the deaths. This was a sequence of events so thoroughly unforeseeable that literally no one could have predicted it. It won't even reflect poorly on you and Belduke, because you two somehow managed to find the bell, excavate it, and mount it without ever ringing it and realizing it knocked you out and you all had an environmentally-induced silver "allergy" and at that point this goes into "acts of a cruel and malicious Writer-God" territory.

Also it was totally predictable that this elaborate system of misogyny would not actually help Espella in the long term as she instead repressed her memories and further internalized the whole witches = evil thing so that when those memories inevitably came back she would be in EVEN WORSE shape, this is why you should have gotten an actual psychologist who could have told you this whole thing was a terrible plan to write your grant.

No like does he drug all his requests to whoever he reports to (it has to be directly to the person signing checks) in the mind-control ink? This is my only explanation here.

Why. In God's name why. Did you not. Simply. DESTROY THE FUCKING BELL TOWER. You have a crane here! What possessed ANYONE to think just covering it up with Vantablack and gaslighting so people couldn't see it was a reasonable solution to the Trauma Tower? (There may be an explanation for this, it has been ten years, but this man's problem solving has been established to be so poor I award him no points.)

And if you were going to do this, why didn't you tell Newton? Or was it just that the lightning strike burning up the Vantablack was itself a reminder to him that you can't repress the past away and he was suddenly aware of how overwhelmingly POINTLESS all this suffering was? (Edit: I think it was this. No but seriously you could’ve just taken a fucking wrecking ball to that thing while you were rebuilding the town.)

Seriously why the fuck did Newton Belduke go along with letting you use his traumatized daughter like this? What the hell, man. What an asshole.

Also. Your problem was that you had two severely traumatized little girls (even if you only acknowledged one of them was traumatized.) Your solution was... to traumatize a shitload more young girls?

TO THE POINT WHERE AT LEAST ONE OF THEM ATTEMPTED SUICIDE?!

And then your best friend actually committed suicide?!

Like. Seriously. If these are the actions of a single, seriously traumatized person, the fact that you are making Literally The Worst And Most Inexplicable Decisions Ever Which Make The Problem Worse For Literally Everyone Involved is more... well, conceivable. I buy a traumatized eighteen-year-old with an obscene amount of money building an elaborate fake London that is allegedly London ten years in the future, hiring actors to populate it, kidnapping scientists, making them build an Underground Vengeance Mecha to destroy the city, and then kidnapping the Prime Minister who is the source of that trauma and hooking the engine of the mecha up to his heart. And then roping in the one guy who could conceivably solve the whole problem and stop him and Clive would let it. It's a bad idea on EVERY conceivable level, don't get me wrong, on an UNPRECEDENTEDLY terrible scale, but it's a bad idea in which it is very clear no one at any point has asked the person what the fuck they think they're doing here, what they are trying to accomplish, and why they are doing so with this objectively absurd method. Because they have not let anyone in close enough to key them to The Full Absurd Terribleness. It's either this or become Batman.

But Arthur? Apparently his decisions have been vetted by OTHER PEOPLE, and this just boggles my mind. I refuse to believe this. I refuse to believe NO ONE went "have we considered this is like eight hundred terrible ideas bundled up into The Worst Idea Ever?" And I refuse to believe he's anything but a massive asshole when his plan had so many awful consequences for literally everyone BUT himself!

Like, don't get me wrong. There are SO MANY examples of unethical experimentation on human subjects in the real world, psychological and otherwise. But most of them are not this incredibly convoluted, implicitly expensive, and we all generally recognize these days that they were bad.

Also, none of them were enacted as an elaborate setup to (incompetently) handle the trauma of the experimenter's daughter after he told her if she was bad a scary evil witch would possess her and then she and her friend accidentally enacted a tragedy whose scale and fundamental absurdity rival the Boston Molasses Flood, but without corporate greed. There were solutions to this that were so much easier, less convoluted, less EXPENSIVE, and less harmful to... well, everyone else involved, except Arthur Cantabella.

#drugging #gaslighting #attempted suicide #suicide #psychological experiments #unethical science #mass death #pl vs pw spoilers #pl spoilers #going to try to avoid maintagging here inasmuch as I can because uh. Yeah. Preeeeetty critical.#the thing is I genuinely LOVED like 90% of this game. Adored it. Had a blast RIGHT up until the reveal.#and then the reveal and the ways it's handwaved just kill it for me even though I usually enjoy Layton Plot Twist Bullshit #(the Underground Vengeance Mecha is my favorite thing ever. Unironically. It's delightful.)#because it's like... multiple people vetted this terrible idea in-universe? Why the fuck?!#and we DWELL on the consequences in a way we rarely do for most Layton Bullshit and see that oh THEY ARE /BAD/.#(I'm pretty sure it's established Jean's still a teenager. She was under Belduke's care /for five years./)#meanwhile the game only BARELY seems to recognize that this dude is in fact the Actual Villain Of The Game. Like. Eve's justified.#but she's still given more of the Sympathetic But Misguided Layton Antagonist treatment whereas he's MAINLY 'sympathetic but misguided.'#which... no. just. no. You're an adult and you had options and you were in a position to choose them. Why was THIS your choice?#again I respect Descole so much more for being like 'well I'm gonna make myself Everyone Else's Problem but mostly Layton's.'#own that you're terrible. Embrace it. Laugh as you seek your revenge on the entire world.

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scienceboi · 2 years

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For character development, I will inject myself with this green goo.

What could possibly go wrong?

#mad science #feral science #mad scientist #unethical mad scientist #unethical science #sciencecore #mad scientist aesthetic

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kalsamurai · 3 months

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was talking to my boyfriend and became a deranged and unethical scientist for a moment. i mean. i'm normally like this i just normally don't have outbursts about it. i feel like herbert west ngl

#unethical science #immortality #herbert west reanimator #science fiction #except i believe that it can be MORE than just science fiction #perhaps not within my lifetime; but we should certainly try!#i at least shall #i vary between being suicidal and wanting to live forever #BUT LIVE FOREVER I SHALL #i care not what must be done to advance this but i'll fucking do it #grixis color philosophy for the win baybee #nothing will stand in the way of my progress #man i sound so evil but i don't care honestly

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faofinn · 2 years

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19. Whining/Crying

Part 1 / Part 2

@sicktember

Steve's heart broke as Fao gave in, but it was his best option. He made sure Fao wasn't going to fall off the bed, then turned away to grab blankets and fluids. The more he could flush out, the quicker Fao would feel better.

The sedation kept Fao out of it for a while, giving Steve time to let the fluids run and get him comfortable. He slipped a couple of bits of monitoring on too, just whilst he slept. Just in case. Fao stirred after some time, groaning. He felt awful, his head pounding and his mouth dry. He was still dizzy, and the nausea was back as soon as he moved. He struggled to lift his hand to rub at his face, feeling as though he was made of lead.

Steve glanced up. "Oh, hey. Back with us?"

Fao groaned, long and low. “Maybe.”

"I'll take a maybe." He smiled, stretching to brush Fao's hair from his face. "That's better."

Fao leaned into him, struggling to organise this thoughts. “Drugs?”

"Still not found a painkiller that works. Had to sed you to get you over the worst."

“Mm. Why I feel like shit.” He mumbled, closing his eyes.

"Yeah, that'll do it."

“Sorry.”

"You don't need to apologise."

“Tired.” He mumbled. “An’ still feel a bit sick?”

"You can't have any more antiemetics, I'm afraid. But you can have a sleep. We can go back to the on call room if it's more comfortable?"

Fao considered for a minute. The thought of the on call room was nice, but he’d have to move, and he really didn’t want to move. So he shook his head. He’d be okay here, and Steve would keep an eye on him.

"Alright, we can stay. Do you need another blanket?"

“I’m okay.”

"Okay. A drink?"

He shook his head, and then paused. “Water?”

"I'll grab you a cup."

“Thanks.” He mumbled.

Steve was barely gone a minute before he returned with a cup of water and some tea. "Fao? Here you go."

He reached for the water. “Mm, thanks.” He said, taking a couple of slow sips.

"You're welcome. Just a little though, okay? Don't want you gulping it all down."

He nodded. “Small sips.”

"That's it, you know the drill."

Fao felt a little better at first, the water soothing his throat. But then the nausea flared again, and he groaned.

"You okay?"

“Feel sick again.”

"Just try and relax."

“I really feel sick.” He whined.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. You've got your dish, you're going to be okay."

Fao reached for it, feeling worse. He retched, bringing up the small mouthful of water that he’d had. It was suddenly all too much, just completely overwhelmed and frustrated that it wasn’t going away. Tears pricked at his eyes and he reached up with one hand to swipe them away roughly.

"Oh, Fao." Steve said softly, moving closer to pull him in for a one-armed hug. "You're gonna be okay."

Fao slumped against Steve, pressing his face into his chest. He couldn’t stop the tears then, the sobs bubbling up without him meaning to.

"You're okay. I know it's shit." He murmured. "You've done so well, it's okay to feel shitty."

Fao felt small and pathetic, crying against Steve. He just hated feeling so rubbish. He knew reasonably it was the drugs making him feel that way, whatever Steve had sedated him with not helping. He whined, sniffing.

Steve rubbed his back. "Just let it out, yeah? You'll feel better soon."

He pulled away, looking up at him. “Sorry.”

"Hey, no need to be sorry."

“Causin’ trouble, bein’ a baby.”

"You're not being a baby." Steve 1qsaid softly, hopping up next to him to pull him properly in for a hug. "Come on, try and get some more rest."

Fao leaned into him, unable to stop the tears that came again. “I jus’ feel so shit.” He mumbled.

"I know, it’s not fair."

“You help though.”

"I'm glad."

He sniffed, resting his head against him. “Maybe we’ll find one that works soon.”

"I hope so, Fao. I hope so."

“Worked at first.”

"Well that bit is positive."

“Yeah.”

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ryukiki · 1 year

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Hey guys? Hey? My uh. My beaker is making weird noises. I brought my solution to a rolling boil and now it's making sounds. Angry sounds. What do I do? I think it's out to get me

#mad science #unethical science #mad scientist #mad science posting #mine

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flamingredanon · 2 years

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Small fic for you all involving more about Tin and the CCC.

#fanfic #ao3 #tin tintin #the ccc #the ccc being shit humans again #reginald copperbottom #child experimentation #human experiment tw #unethical science #unethical #again tin is fine in the end #the tag glitch is fixed!#going back to the abyss since im on wifi at the moment as my internet is out in my area

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minnesota-fats · 2 years

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Jazz gets a panicked call from her brothers friends one day out of the blue, saying that they were worried because danny hadnt come to school in a few days and he wouldn’t answer his phone and when they went over to see if he was just sick Maddie opened the door looking like she hadn’t slept in days saying that Danny was fine. Jazz comes home to find the house an utter mess and when she goes down to the lab she finds her baby brother strapped down to a metal table with stitches in his chest. She goes to untie him but is stopped her mother Maddie telling her to get away from the ghost. Jazz yells at her and Maddie gets a sad look in her eyes and says, “I guess it got to you like it did your father.” And she attacks Jazz. Jazz throws her off and in the scuffle knocks over all sorts of equipment, chemicals and even opens the portal, Jazz pushes Maddie into the Ghost Zone and closes the hatch doors behind her. When she finally unties her brother he latches onto her and hugs her for dear life, unfortunately the touching moment doesn’t last long because something in the lab started to mix and sizzle. In his last bit of consciousness Danny strains his powers to turn both him and Jazz intangible and fly them both out of there up to the street just as the lab exploded which brought the house with it, burning down their childhood home!

This is for ANOTHER fic idea I wanna write where basically Maddie went insane at the idea that her son had died and was “doing him a favor” and she becomes a batman villain! (Or if your not into DC x DP fics you can just ignore that part!)

And if it wasn’t clear Maddie killed Jack because he was also trying to untie Danny because he is a big dumb sweetheart and Maddie thought that Danny was controlling him.

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insect-biped-arachnid · 2 years

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Itsy Bitsy Spider

CW: depiction of panic attack

Sometimes in the midst of the hot summer night, Locus liked to go on walks through the city park. He liked the quiet. He liked the privacy. Although the heart of the city never truly went to sleep, the outskirts shifted at night into a peaceful atmosphere. Mourning Park was the closest to Jessie’s repurposed warehouse, and so that’s where Locus usually headed on those sleepless evenings.

There was a constant buzz of cicadas which continued on far into the night. Locus wondered if they’d ever get tired of singing. The crickets chirped and every once in a while, a toad would croak from a hidden spot in the mud, near the pond.

The spider hybrid’s taste for crickets had never exactly gone away. If anything, he craved them more now that they were less available. Back at the lab, everything was so simple. All he ever did was eat, sleep, and test. Now there was much more to it. At first, it hadn’t been easy learning that in order to eat, one needs money, and in order to get money, one needs to work. The lab was of course free from a currency system of any kind, and so it’s understandable the difficulty that came from having to learn the way the world truly works.

If there was anything Locus missed about that horrible place, it’d have to be the food. Those scientists knew just what would make his stomach happy. Now that Locus was in the real world, he had to eat normal human food. The cheap stuff too. It’s not like the bugs had much money to spare in the first place let alone to spend on pre-seasoned crickets from the pet store.

Leaves shifted and rubbed together above. Fireflies lit the path ahead, showing themselves, then quickly disappearing once more as if they had never been there in the first place. Locus’s pace was steady, but quick. He focused on the soft sound of the rubber bottoms of his new shoes colliding with the stone ground. With two hands, he let his fingers intertwine with one another, each falling into place perfectly. Another pair ruffled his own hair, fluffing up the back especially with its bouncy curls.

Locus had never noticed how long it takes for hair to grow. He’d always felt like his scheduled haircuts had been far too often, when his hair had barely even changed from the last. But now that he was free to style his hair however he pleased, he was surprised to say the least when he learned just how confusing that could be.

He twirled the ends of his locks with his index fingers, happy that he’d been able to grow them out this long. Locus planned never to get his hair cut again, but he could already imagine Monarch’s protests. They were the one obsessed with proper hair care after all. However their terrible lack of knowledge made them far from an expert.

Thoughts of his partner made Locus grin. Those two years without them had been nothing short of hell. And what’s worse is that the last conversation they’d had at the time had been a fight. Locus couldn’t even remember what it was about. He only remembered how terrible he felt afterward, how he planned to apologize, and that they had all but disappeared overnight, leaving the conflict unresolved for three years.

But that was far behind him now, Locus reminded himself. He gazed up at the cloudy night sky and marveled at its unmatched beauty. The dark colors swirling around one another, the puffs of shaded lilac clouds. It all came together to a feeling like the world was standing still. It was a nice change of pace. Normally Locus observed everything seeming to move too fast, leaving nothing for him to grasp onto for comfort or reassurance. But this was different.

For once in his life, Locus felt happy to be alive. A welcome change of pace from his earlier thinking.

A rumble sounded from the clouds. It was out of place, Locus thought. He clenched his jaw and released his folded hands, but continued walking.

Leaves still shifted together, but the wind seemed angrier than before. It pushed fear into the foliage, and Locus’ hair into his eyes. He began to wonder if the sky wanted to steal him away, but quickly dismissed it, deciding he was at least wise enough to know that the sky couldn’t want. And if it could, it wouldn’t want him.

A few seconds passed before the next strange thing. A long, stringy light appeared in the sky, making something inside of him scream irrational words of caution. Locus stopped in his tracks and eyed the spot which the light was now missing from. The back of his mind told him it must be dangerous.

But no. This had happened before. The first car he’d ever witnessed had scared Locus half to death, but Monarch had been there to explain it. They seemed to always have an explanation for things. A way to make everything feel right again.

Maybe this was one of those times. Maybe this was similar to the car: a normal occurrence in regular human life. A routine experience. Maybe the sky just did that sometimes, Locus imagined, just before a second crash of thunder shattered his fragile sense of safety like a china plate.

It was even louder this time. Even brighter too. Locus jumped in surprise then, and again when his skin started to prickle with tiny, cold droplets. The whole earth seemed to start peppering itself with them too.

The startled spider stumbled away from the path, running for cover under a tree’s leafy branches. He was so distracted by the increasing shower of water that he bumped into its trunk on accident, then a second time on purpose, gluing his back to the bark as he watched the storm pick up.

A third angry grumble came along with a third flash of light in the shape of veins. Locus shivered, overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and sensations. A terrible, nauseating feeling took control and he dropped to the ground, hands over his ears, another pair coming to hold his knees close. He whined in discomfort and his eyes boiled when the next thunderous clash sounded even louder than the last. He squeezed all six eyes closed and pushed hard at the sides of his head, begging the sounds to stop.

They didn’t stop. They grew louder and became more vicious. Locus grew more distressed.

The rain started falling faster. It coated the previously bone dry stone in a shiny gloss. It showered down onto the ground with such force. It was unforgiving and persistent. So much so that it dripped down, through the tree’s foliage just to find its way to Locus. And when it did, he was not appreciative.

The crackles and pops of the angry sky were terrible, but the rain was bad too. It surprised Locus, nicking the back of his neck, then falling onto his arms and the top of his head in a frustratingly disorganised manner.

It was one thing to be terrified of blinding lightning and screaming thunder, but it was another paired with the incredible discomfort the water and humidity brought.

As the sky sobbed, Locus did too. He overwhelmed himself with incomprehensible thoughts which drowned him in worry. He didn’t know what to do but cower. And even then he didn’t choose to, it was learned behavior, done now without thinking, more powerful than the instincts that told him to fight the danger.

He thought of cold showers that used to leave his matted hair sopping wet. He thought of medication disguised inside a glass of water, like what he’d be given at the facility when he couldn’t keep anything else down long enough for it to kick in. He thought of drowning. He thought of people yelling. Yelling at him.

Locus begged for it to stop. He covered his ears and buried his head between his knees. It didn’t stop. He realized it never would.

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craycraybluejay · 2 years

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I want for there to be a hyper-intelligent mind mapping program that connects to full body vr and allows you to experience your mind's contents in real time in real life. Fantasies, dreams, thoughts. I want to make that tech and test it on myself over and over. Drive myself insane with the mad science of it all. Feed this program everything humanity's got. Who cares about ethics? Who cares about scientific lines we can't cross? Who cares about the delicate nature of reality itself? I want to see and feel Aria stepping on my dick till I cry. I want to look at and feel a tree with many eyeballs. I want to go to The Other Place. I want to murder the person annoying me and then casually spend time around them as if it never was. I want to build a piece of technology which whomever the user is becomes God. I want to be the first God of my world. To see it blossom to life not only when I'm dreaming and fantasizing but every moment whenever I like. Even more vivid than my 4 dimensional world. Give it 5 dimensions, 7 dimensions, 10, 20, 50 dimensions! I want to fry my mind with itself. Let it fall apart and come together over and over in the pursuit of a seemingly impossible dream. I want to hold the fabric of reality itself and change it, rebuild it, morph it into something else entirely. A world where my mind is God but *I* am a mere explorer. I float through the void endlessly seeing everything that is and ever will be flashing before my eyes. I make love to rain. I make love to music. I topple empires.

All this inspired by the fact that I really really want Aria to step on my dick but I also really want to stretch the bounds of reality until they break because I am absolutely thirsty for knowledge and creation.

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theicescorpions · 24 days

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Primal Fire Chapter 2: Monster

Wheeljack never escaped the Decepticons, instead he was made into Shockwave’s lab experiment and was turned into a Predacon.

Inspired by @sugarand-everythingnice and her “Of Flesh and Steel” AU

Chapter One

Wheeljack faded in and out of consciousness as whatever this thing was carried him on its back away from the Decepticons. Eventually the rain came pouring down and the creature scurried into a large cave with him. Carefully the creature lowered Wheeljack’s exhausted frame into a nest made of soft soil.

‘It is alright. You are safe now.’ The creature insisted, its voice registering as feminine.

Wheeljack blinked, ‘Who… are you? What are you?’

‘I am Fablebreaker. And we are Predacons. Sleep… you are badly wounded and need rest. I will keep you safe from the songless two leggers.’ She replied

‘I’m not a Predacon.’ Wheeljack tried to insist weakly.

‘Sleep.’ Fablebreaker insisted more firmly. ‘When you wake I will have something to eat for you.’

When Wheeljack resisted sleep, the female huffed and began to sing a gentle haunting melody, her voice like an instrument, soothing and commanding at the same time. Wheeljack felt a strange now-familiarity with this voice, a sense of calmness and solace he hadn't experienced in ages. Slowly, he began to associate the voice with the safety he had been searching for.

Finally he let sleep claim him and he sunk into a deep dreamless sleep while Fablebreaker watched over him. The cavern around them was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the energon crystals that were scattered around her dwelling.

When she was sure he was completely unconscious, the female stood and went to gather some of the smaller crystals together, they would be easier to eat.

She had been the last of her kind. Her kin had all died out long ago and now, there was clearly another. She glanced over at Wheeljack, a low pained rumble emanating from his draconic form.

The female Predacon watched the large male for a moment longer before returning to her task. When she had a suitable collection of energon she picked up a stone bowl and very carefully crushed each crystal into easier to eat shards. She placed the bowl close to the bed and then went to go to a nearby scrap yard for some hopefully decent metal scrap.

Eventually once she had her offerings laid out for him, Fablebreaker curled around the larger Predacon to her best ability and flicked a warm wing over his sleeping form, the pain in his subharmonics lessened slightly and he subconsciously pressed into the offered comfort.

Elsewhere at the new Autobot base, Ratchet had finally gotten a few systems up and running. The life signals of Team Prime popped up on the screen and then to everyone’s surprise, so did Wheeljack’s although it was corrupted.

“It’s corrupted? No. You don’t think the cons turned Jackie into a terrorcon do you?” Bulkhead looked to Ratchet with pleading optics.

Ratchet examined the signal as Optimus Prime, Arcee, Bumblebee, Smokescreen and Ultra Magnus all waited for his answer to Bulkhead’s question.

“This appears different from when Cliffjumper’s came back online.” Ratchet admitted. “This here, is a clear sparkbeat.” He pointed to the life signal. “But it’s erratic and for some reason I can not trace his location.”

As Ratchet continued to analyze the corrupted signal, Bulkhead's face grew more concerned. "We have to find him, Ratchet. We can't leave Jackie like this," he said, his voice filled with worry.

“I need time to track his signal. Whatever has been done to Wheeljack is messing with our system, which is currently still in disarray. Ultra Magnus, would we be able to use your ship for its enhanced scanners?” Ratchet asked. Wheeljack’s sparkbeat had him very worried, he could be having a medical emergency.

Ultra Magnus nodded and quickly left for his ship to help coordinate with the base.

Elsewhere, with the Decepticons, Megatron listened to Shockwave's report with a growing sense of frustration. Starscream's failures were piling up, and the Decepticons were losing ground. He found himself regretting terminating Dreadwing in favor of Starscream. He needed to find a way to regain control and stability.

“I want that Autobot found and destroyed, Shockwave.” Megatron growled “we lost more than half of our forces. how do you expect to correct this egregious error?”

“I have already cultivated another Predacon specimen, Lord Megatron. It is in my lab on Cybertron it only needs to be activated then you will have a Predacon completely under your control.” Shockwave replied “I will begin cloning more Predacons to add to our forces.”

Megatron nodded, a hint of hope glinting in his optics. "Excellent. Make the preparations, Shockwave. We need a reliable Predacon to keep the Autobots in check."

It was several days before Wheeljack woke, the pain in his frame now only a dull ache. He blinked and lifted his head and noticed the crushed energon and sniffed it, it smelled fine and his tanks rumbled painfully. He experimentally took a small shard into his mouth and began to chew. The oral lubricants in his mouth surprisingly began to break down the raw crystal energon into usable fuel. On his next bite he scooped a much larger amount into his fanged maw and began devouring the energon crystals.

As Wheeljack fed on the energon crystals, he felt a surge of energy coursing through his body, replenishing his strength and easing the ache in his systems. He looked around, taking in his surroundings within the dimly lit cavern. His optics settled on the scrap metal that had been offered much in the same way the energon had.

Wheeljack looked at it confused before his system alerts notified him that his body needed resources to continue repairs. Hesitantly he took a mouthful of scrap and began to chew, his powerful jaws crushing and cutting the metal with ease. It tasted alright, but it wasn’t as good as…

Wheeljack recoiled, causing himself to topple backwards with a crash, pain shot through his back as he landed on his wings wrong only magnifying how wrong this all was.

He ATE someone while escaping the warship.

The memory hit him like a ton of bricks, the guilt and horror washing over him in waves. How had he not realized it before? Wheeljack's processor whirred as he tried to piece together what had happened during his escape from the warship. Images flashed before his optics, snippets of memories that had been lost in the fog of panic and instinct.

He remembered the chaos and destruction, the desperate fight for survival. And then, in a moment of sheer desperation, he had done the unthinkable. The vehicons he had encountered on the warship, the last one standing...

As the realization dawned on him, Wheeljack felt a profound sense of shame and disgust. He had always been stubborn, even when he was starving during the war he knew that there were just some things you shouldn’t do. Cannibalizing another Cybertronian was high on that list. But now, faced with the undeniable truth of what he had done, he couldn't help but question everything he thought he knew about himself.

This had to be a sick nightmare.

Wheeljack forced himself to stand and quickly left the cave, searching for any kind of reflective surface to confirm what he feared. As he stumbled out into the light, his optics adjusted to the brightness of the world outside the cavern. His reflection in a nearby pool of water confirmed the truth he had been trying to deny. The face that stared back at him was foreign and animalistic.

He sunk to the ground, his mind spinning, his spark heavy with guilt and self-loathing. How could he face his fellow Autobots after what he had done? The memory of consuming the fallen vehicon haunted him, the taste of metal and energon still lingering in his mouth. Wheeljack knew he had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.

As he sat there, lost in his thoughts, Fablebreaker quickly jumped out of the tree line and looked around in alarm, plates flaring to make herself look bigger if there was a threat nearby. When she saw Wheeljack on the ground and there was no other scent in the air, her armor relaxed and the female Predacon walked over and gently brushed her head against his.

Wheeljack flinched at the touch, his guilt and shame making him feel unworthy of any comfort.

‘Why are you here?’ Wheeljack asked, pulling away from her.

‘I heard you calling for help.’ She replied

‘Calling for- I didn’t call for help.’ Wheeljack turned away from her.

Fablebreaker mimicked the subharmonics that Wheeljack had been using without thinking. It was a sound of distress and panic.

His head whipped to look at her stunned before he finally noticed that he was still making that sound.

‘I didn’t realize…’ Wheeljack said, trying to compose himself. ‘I’m just… dealing with some things right now. I don’t even know what I am anymore.’

Fablebreaker tilted her head, studying Wheeljack with her amber optics. She could sense the turmoil within him, the inner battle he was facing. Despite his attempts to push her away, she knew he needed someone to talk to, someone who could understand the weight of his actions.

‘We all carry burdens,’ Fablebreaker said softly. ‘You are not alone in your struggles, friend.’

Wheeljack bristled ‘I don’t know you enough to call you my friend’

‘Yet I do not know your name. How else am I to address you?’ She replied

‘My name is Wheeljack,’ he said after a moment of hesitation, feeling a spark of connection with the Predacon despite his inner turmoil.

Fablebreaker nodded in understanding, her draconic features softening with empathy. ‘Wheeljack, I am Fablebreaker. I do not know if you recall my introduction from when I brought you here.’

‘What are you… what am I?’ He asked.

‘We are Predacons. A predatory species from the before times.’ She answered ‘though our instincts are strong, we are far more intelligent and advanced than the two legged ones give us credit for.’

Wheeljack's mind reeled at Fablebreaker's revelation. Predacons – a legendary species spoken of in the past tense, believed to be mere myths by some, fancy rocks in museums by most. A species long extinct. Cybertron’s dinosaurs, And now he found himself face to face with one. As he pondered the implications of his newfound identity, a mix of fear and curiosity stirred within him. It certainly explained the violent compulsion to eat that Vehicon.

‘Advanced how?’ Wheeljack muttered, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.

The Predacon backed up slightly and her plates shifted and her body transformed into a bipedal form. “Like this.” She replied, sitting down next to him and offered a gentle smile.

Wheeljack blinked. He’d been so distraught he hadn’t even attempted to transform.

Fablebreaker watched as realization dawned on Wheeljack's face, his optics widening in surprise. The sight of her transformation seemed to spark a glimmer of hope within him, a flicker of something new and unknown. He stood up on his four legs and attempted to transform.

He focused on the familiar sequence, willing his body to shift and rearrange. Gradually, the sound of whirring gears and shifting metal filled the air as Wheeljack transformed. His exterior panels folded and shifted, reconfiguring into a bipedal form covered in spines and jagged edges. As he completed the transformation, Wheeljack stood there in his new form, looking down at himself in awe. He flexed his clawed hands and quickly ran over to look at his reflection.

And there he was. Granted there was a few more scars, his denta were jagged and his optics looked more predatory but it was his face.

Fablebreaker watched as a mix of emotions played out on Wheeljack’s face - surprise, wonder, and a glimmer of relief.

“Feel better?” She asked

Wheeljack nodded slowly, still processing the reality of his transformation. It was a lot to take in, but seeing himself in this new form brought a sense of familiarity that he had been desperately seeking. He turned to Fablebreaker, a newfound sense of gratitude shining in his optics.

"Thank you," Wheeljack said softly, his subharmonics betraying a mix of emotions. "I never thought I'd be able to transform again after... everything."

She patted the ground next to her and he sat next to her.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” Fablebreaker asked.

Wheeljack hesitated, the memories of his past weighing heavily on his spark. But something in Fablebreaker's compassionate optics encouraged him to open up, to share the burden that had been consuming him from within.

"I used to be an Autobot," Wheeljack began, his voice laced with a mixture of regret and sorrow. "I thought I was doing the right thing, fighting for what I believed in. But then I got caught. I wasn’t worried, I’d been captured and tortured many times before and escaped. This last time was different." He stared at his claws.

Fablebreaker listened intently, her gaze never leaving Wheeljack as he told her what he was willing to share.

"I thought I was unshakable. That nothing they could do to me could break me," Wheeljack continued, his claws curling into fists as he spoke. "But they got to me. Broke me in ways I never thought possible. And when I finally escaped, I couldn't think. I did things that’ll haunt me forever. The things they did to me... I can't shake them off."

Fablebreaker reached out a comforting clawed hand and placed it on Wheeljack's shoulder, offering silent support.

"I don't know if I'll ever be able to fully move on from what happened," Wheeljack admitted.

“You do not have to. I was a clone created on Cybertron. My kin and I were subject to different experiments. I was the only female to survive those tests. Males tend to have thicker armor and greater strength. Their survival rate was higher.” She explained. “My kin and I were sent here to root out Autobots and create energon stores and keep them secure. The males were not particularly kind to me. I had enough. I removed my tracker and simply disappeared. I found a large energon deposit and hid, digging out metal ore and consuming that and the energon to keep myself fit and young while the others starved themselves to hold to their directive. I was alone… Until I found you.”

“Am I that important to you? You barely know me.” Wheeljack commented

“You may not have been born Predacon, but you are still one of my kind. As far as I know we two are the last of the Predacon species. And I already prefer your company over that of any other of my kind that I have met before.” She replied.

Wheeljack grunted in response, thinking for a long moment. “I can’t face Team Prime like this. I can’t go back. It’s best if they think I died goin’ down with my ship. You really don’t mind if I stay?”

“I’d love it if you would.” Fablebreaker looked at Wheeljack, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

They both had suffered horrendous agony in their own way because of Shockwave. In that moment, as the sun began to sink down behind the trees painting the forest in gold and orange, they both knew that they had found an unexpected companion in this desolate corner of the universe.

Chapter Three: Fangs and Claws

#tfp wheeljack #wheeljack #transformers prime wheeljack #transformers prime #dark #mature #unethical science #gore #existential crisis #predacons #fanfic

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