#cerebrosurgeon

[thelastpathfinder]

› 🗣 ▮

-CEREBROS✧

🗣

"You're so much larger than your body." You sit with your knees pulled up to your chest, your head resting on your arms. Looking at Cerebros sideways, you can almost imagine he's floating in zero gravity. "How can you stay so kind, after everything you've seen? Isn't it hard? It must be easier to share your pain. There's people out there who deserve it."

[forgedcold]

› Unsent texts.▮

-Fortress Maximus and/or Cerebros

Send me 💬 or "unsent texts" I'll share three texts my muse typed but never sent yours.

Megatron doesn't deny the pettiness he feels nor his lack of desire to move beyond it. "Enemy of my enemy, maybe," he thinks. His curiosity feels damning as he considers reaching out to Fortress Maximus.

TXT » Perhaps the one thing we might have in common is a mutual hatred of Prowl.

Hatred, however, isn't likely the best way to form a friendship of sorts. He doesn't trust Fortress Maximus to not resent him; after all, he was responsible for who Overlord became. Megatron deletes the message, not wanting to be the one to potentially reopen old wounds.

Cerebros, perhaps.

TXT » I heard you are a healer of sorts — able to help restore others to higher function after otherwise traumatic injuries. I wonder what you might know about healing surviving victims of shadowplay?

No. Too much. It leaves room for questions to be asked. Megatron deletes the message.

TXT » Did you still need a ride?

Or would the idea of being on a ship resembling the Lost Light be damaging? There are no phase-sixers hidden in the basement this time. Megatron deletes the message — likely, and per usual, he is too late.

[maxfortress]

@cerebrosurgeon | as discussed

The hallways flickered, dimly lit and in some places, clearly in disrepair. Some hatchways appeared forced open, or even broken through the closed door, while others were left open, or only half closed.

Battles had been fought in some places, judging from scorches on a few walls, spattered energon on others.

Silent, the small Titan drifted aimlessly through space in ship mode.

[rodismancave]

Ping.

› You should be at the club.▮

:: AT LAST! SOMEONE agrees. ::

[thelastpathfinder]

"I think I get it. You're a combiner of sorts—the most unique one I've heard of, definitely, but the mechanics are fundamentally similar." You nod to yourself, then give him a lopsided look that's somewhere between wistful and envious. "You must never get lonely. Do you think you could put the schematics on a data-pad? I don't have any upload filters, so too much information at once is overwhelming."

The rest of what he explains is just as new, but relatively easy to process now that you've wrapped your head around the how of it all. At the mention of dark matter condensing within someone to ill effect, you fold a hand over your chestplate reflexively. You try not to give too much thought to the little anomaly in your spark chamber, but maybe you should. "How bad—" you blurt out, panic starting to bubble to the surface, only to be silenced when your processor belatedly latches onto the rest of his words.

"One of the wisest...?" You hunch in on yourself and stare at him, waiting for the punchline, but it never comes. He's being genuine. It makes you feel hollow, somehow, as if words alone could punch a hole straight through your chest.

"I—" You choke on your attempt to speak, and turn your head away, embarrassed. How could such a casual comment affect you so deeply? "I don't... know what Nebulos is. I don't know if we have a Nebulos in my universe. I don't know much about anything. I'm sorry."

"My body- frame, my frame was a starship, and it was a trans-ec-ter, if you're speaking Nebulanese, before I was... Me. I can relay transtector schematics to you, if you have a working receiver or broadcast frequency you can read?" He felt bad for smiling, but he can't help it; Wayfarer is refreshing. He prepared an ultra-compressed and condensed version of the usual We-Are-From-Elsewhere package, asking Max to prepare to boost his signal if necessary.

"I have a processor, terminal, the whole thing, but-" He paused. This was sensitive information, but surely Wayfarer was someone he could trust? Besides, he's had his helm blown apart before. Cerebros was surprised to be called a Nebulan so bluntly, something that made his fans kick up and heatsink work overtime. Galen used to feel like this when he tried not to cry. He'd talk about it later, when he calmed down. "I'm made from the Steelhaven's reserve parts. I went back and pretty much built out my own brain module hardware later on, though there isn't much space for upgrading microchips and I'm a little scared of what a motherboard swap would do to me. I'm Max's head, literally, so... Sometimes it's more like I'm his brain, but we share one, really."

"I think you're one of the wisest people I've ever met, Cerebros says easily, nodding again. "Dark matter definitely exists; I've seen what dark matter does if it... Condenses... Inside someone- It's, it's bad, things get bad. Can you follow the scaffolding somewhere? Like a road, to another universe then... Back again?"

And, because his attention span could snap sometimes and make seconds feel like minutes: "What do you know about Nebulos?"

[hypnosiacon-archive]

Cerebrosurgeonic: a gender connected to cerebrosurgeons from Transformers franchise.

[chemicalsleep]

i never uploaded any of my art of him, not even my initial gijinka design,,,, as soon as i get SSI and can repair my laptop+obtain my old sketchbooks i will do that

cerebros experienced both bilateral shoulder disarticulation and bilateral hip disarticulation amputation, as part of the binary bonding process. he has articulate prosthetics that brainstorm and arcana prototyped, but he constantly upgrades and works on (occasionally to his own detriment). he has special sockets for when he interfaces with his transector.

and he's bad at undoing knots and usually just. keeps looping his jumpsuit's pant legs around each other until they stay put when he removes his prosthetics, lmao

[novafire-is-thinking]

Yeah so I have been reading the IDW Transformers Animated comics and in the first issue I found this (which I believe is in the show as well but I can’t remember):

Sooo, is Ratchet a mnemonosurgeon? I’m just asking bc I don’t really know who else to ask.

That line is also in the show, yes. This fandom won’t let me forget it. /mild annoyance

TFA seems to be one of the continuities that puts a heavier emphasis on the bots being removed from physical “humanness.” The writers put very little focus on parts and processes that can be easily translated to human anatomy and physiology. This applies especially to the bots’ minds.

There are no psychologists in the TFA-verse. There are no cerebrosurgeons. Bots can just plug in and alter their programming with ease.

Ratchet isn’t really a mnemosurgeon. In IDW, mnemosurgery is a separate medical specialty that requires special training. In TFA, it seems anyone—or at least any general medical professional—can plug in a bot and run a diagnostics program to remove unwanted feelings and thoughts.

It’s not quite the same as mnemosurgery.

[highflygingcon]

The second Highbrow sent the fix in through Cerebros, a horrifying fact came to light. Much of that junk data was actually an artificial barrier Trojan temporarily put up to spare the mini from the onslaught of information their internal computers were running to keep the forge running.

Now, it had no filter. Hundreds of micro-adjustments to compensate for power fluctuations within the forge. Data streams of each sparks current status, both physically and mentally. Gravity shifts to balance out the dozens of sparks within the chamber, making sure two did not fuse by accident.

But most of all was a crushing pain around the hiveminds spark chambers. The second Trojan realized this, a loud click sounded under Cerebros, followed by metal straining against something. The Forge had been slightly shifted upwards, heat blasting from the small gap it made.

Finding itself stuck, an emergency override took place, opening a small panel in front of the forge, just big enough for a minibot like Cerebros or Turfwar to squeeze in.

Outside, Trojan shuddered under Max's touch. The inner ring of their turbines rotating slowly. Energon began to leak out from under them, fast, mixing with their spilled oil, coolant, and other fluids. Whatever Trojans condition before, it rapidly became critical.

What remained of their EM field weakly wrapped around Maxs servo, trying to comfort him in their delirium.

Back inside, it became apparent that the tunnel Trojan opened up led directly to where they hid their sparkchamber after the changes. Directly underneath the forge, powering it themselves. More shocking was the condition of the chamber itself, or rather, the wing crushing it.

In the crash, Trojans starboard wing caved in their side, cutting all the way through to their spark. Still in one piece, but crushed against the opposite wall, it would not hold. Their own weight cutting off power to their rotors, making them unable to move, and save themselves.

Initially, Cerebros followed Trojan's holoform, his HUD displaying a detailed overview of what needed to be fixed and how. He trusted Trojan, though, and stood his ground until he was given instructions. Cerebros could feel the deep scores in Trojan's plating through Grommet's fingertips, the oil coating Gasket's forearms as he blindly dug deep, seeking out the severed line with precision. It was awful. As much as the tension, the fear, in Trojan pained Cerebros, he kept his gaze on them steady, nodding an affirmative. What Cerebros lacked in electromagnetic perception, Max made up for, and it was him that could understand the extent of Trojan's terror. The information relayed to Cerebros late but was shuffled aside - It wasn't damage Cerebros could repair, not now, not when Trojan's life was endangered. Max reached a hand out, his own EM field tense but comforting, reassuring, hand hovering at Trojan's port side without touching them.

At the sound of the door opening, Cerebros spun on his heel and sprinted through the open door, only hearing his old friend's words once he was over the threshold, and he froze as soon as he saw the sparks housed in the surrogate forge. For a moment, he stood there, even his ventilation fans silent. Slowly, he removed his mask and visor from storage and slotted them back in place as he looked around. Max, outside, was equally shocked. Their biology was so different from Trojan's; Cerebros could stabilise a laser core, transfer mind engrams to CCVs, or operate on brain modules... But this? To save more sparks than his processor could log in a glance, when he'd never even handled one? A sudden slew of data slammed into Cerebros, staggering him as he held his helm; the other Headmasters had seen what he had. Highbrow and Arcana were the loudest voices in his head, Brainstorm and, most surprisingly, Vorath, close behind in volume. They were all telling Cerebros what to do in different ways, and it took Max enforcing command protocols to get them to organise usefully. Highbrow came in first, Cerebros's feet carrying him to the nearest display panel, hands guided into navigating the glitching UI behind the shattered screen, Highbrow seeking metrics readouts through Cerebros.

› Dont even look at the sparks. Look at the mechanisms of the forge. Repair it like anything else.▮

› 𝓣𝖍𝖊𝖘𝖊 𝕾𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖘 𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝕻𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕷𝖆𝖘𝖊𝖗 𝖈𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘. 𝓣𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝓝 𝖊𝖇𝖚𝖑𝖆𝖓 𝓗𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕭𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘.▮

Vorath's advice was both the least expected and the most helpful. Whatever Brainstorm had been trying to communicate via the Headmasters' telepathy was abandoned in favour of spamming Vorath and Mindwipe with endless questions regarding how, exactly, the fellow scientist knew anything about sparks. What readouts Cerebros could parse didn't look good; he was thinking of Galen, bloody and cold, brain activity undetectable. He was thinking of all these sparks winding up like that. Highbrow was piloting him remotely to the best of his ability - Open up this box, replace these fuses, find that chemical, replenish lubricants, swab rust away... Brainstorm's attention returned, destroying Highbrow's tenuous influence.

› ᴘʟᴜɢ ɪɴ!▮

The command was so confident, Cerebros didn't even question it, ejecting an adaptor from one wrist and sticking it in the first slot it fit into, hard wiring him into the surrogate forge's dedicated motherboard. The data stream was routed to Highbrow, course corrected, sent back to Cerebros, and uploaded back into the software. His processor was overheating, but it was working, Cerebros clumsy in his hardware repairs. Tubes needed to be patched, a rod needed to be submerged in a cooling station and replaced, half the sparks' vitals were unavailable due to damaged units, but they were still viable. Arcana patched in formally after pinging Max, presence soothing Cerebros as he settled into almost autonomous motions. This was what he was built for, after all.

› 𝓘𝓯 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝔀𝓮 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭-𝓸𝓷.▮

"Trojan," Max murmured, leaning down towards them slowly, "does the forge need additional parts?"

[medicalgradezine]

According an earlier post (one of the first asks you answered), Swerve would count as a medic, but I can't find him on the Zine character roster. What's the situation on him? Additionally, would Lobe count since the wiki refers to him as "cerebrosurgeon" (rather than a mnemosurgeon) who rebuilt characters like Shockwave and Tarn?

So when you open the roster sheet, there should be tabs located at either the top or the bottom of the screen (depending on your device). Swerve is all on his lonesome because he's the only metallurgist that is canonically named.

And then Lobe was placed in the Mnemosurgeon tab since we figured there wasn't enough narrative distinction to give that job its own section.

[forgedcold]

〈 MA! gently placing cerebros within* arms' reach. for fun. 〉

〈 *he is too short for that at mutual standing height. [insert creative positioning here] 〉

Dread pulsates across his field when Megatron realizes his proximity to Cerebros. A victim of some sort of psychological weapon or not, size matters little as Megatron mass displaces against his will, his body shrinking until the difference in height is negligible. By now, he knows he can't stop this no matter how he tries to fight, and panic bites at the edges of his spark as his hands cradle a stranger's face.

The influence compels him to stare, to look so deep as though he might fall down a chasm trying to unburden himself. Megatron's mouth moves before he can stop it. "I don't know what you are," he blurts. "Headmasters — I don't understand. I will kill you before I am shadowplayed again."

At once, the impulse dies, and Megatron releases Cerebros with an expression as though he has taken the brunt of an ion blast. The energon in his lines suddenly bleeds cold.

No one knows that about me. What if he tells?

Resuming his full height, he glowers down. "You heard nothing. Do I make myself clear?"

[verdigrisprowl]

@cerebrosurgeon

«Are you still intent on wasting your life on that antiquated space rock, or do you harbor any ambitions for a more rewarding position?»

[primepredacon]

From Ashes

Everything hurt. Optimus wasn’t one to give in to weakness, but heaping pain upon pain would wear even the most stalwart of mechs down. Trembling slightly with the strain of standing, Optimus cycled his optics, vents wheezing as they shifted to the side of his prison. At least Shockwave hadn’t tried to continue further experimentation today. The shackles around his wrists and ankles clanked as the Prime shifted, weight sliding left-right-left until he was slightly more comfortable. Optimus’ optics closed, and he prayed - to the Matrix, to Primus, to any deity that would listen, for salvation to find him. Or end him. Either seemed equally appealing at this point.

@cerebrosurgeon

[hypnosiacon-archive]

Cerebrosurgeon Omninoun: A type of omninoun. When one has a deep connection to the word Cerebrosurgeon and uses it in their identification fully or partially. One uses Cerebrosurgeon as honorific, as a name, as pronouns, etc in any form of this word.

[ Additional Tags: @omninoun-archive ] [ Omninoun by Me ]

[defectiicon]

@cerebrosurgeon

Waking was abrupt; one moment she was asleep and the next she was shooting up, wings flaring out--causing a flare of pain, naturally--as she threw herself forward, tumbling to the ground.

Stunned, she blinked for a long moment before processors finally finished booting, and she dropped her head backwards to stare at Fort Max for a few moments. Big, big Autobot. Very big. And a good perch.

But he was asleep, and that was boring. With a huff, she crawled back up onto the berth and on him; once settled, she began to poke and prod at seams.

“Hey. Hey. Hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey, Hey!”

[lobethemnemosurgeon]

"I am pleased to meet you," - he replied with a soft expression. Not that any kind of expression could have softened his sharp facial features. - "I'm Lobe, the IMD cerebrosurgeon." Also a leading specialist of the Institute, he added in his thoughts. In the current political situation on Cybertron, it was, in fact, the the same as a counterintelligence officer.

"Aw you're such a cutie, can I pet you?"

- @starshinesiren (Siren)

He blinked, quite surprised. Many things had he heard about himself, but no one, - not even his bondmate, - had ever called him "cute". That just... wasn't it an epithet that could be used to designate a person of his kind. Namely, a cybervore working as a mnemosurgeon. "Do I know you?", - he asked softly.