#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."

[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?"

[hypnosiacon-archived]

👀👀👀

"I have like A LOT of info about them and species' that are connected to other deities"

pls do tell me because from the little on the post I need to know MOOOOOORE pls

🌊🐺 anon

Oh I would need a tag for them!~ Leviathan is a Lycanformer so he can make more facts about these species' than Tarn about his own memories f;lkd;slgk;fld And we love talking about our own creations for canon universe, even if it breaks everything in it;s core fg;ldkg;ldsf

Okay so fact of the day is:

There are 5 deities in Guiding Hand that encompass specific things or concepts. Every deity has it;s own species. This is 5 species, not including other specific cybertronian species' that are not connected to the Deities or Guiding Hand, or have little connection to them (instead having connection to the first Primes for example), or even subdivine species'!

Divine species have immortal sparks, as they are able to regenerate their shell pretty quickly, and all of them have a nice abilities connected to them.

Primus - A chief deity, light- and life-giver, personification of Spark and the Vector Sigma - the source of all Sparks. His Divine Species called Luciformer. These are the Creations of Spark and Light! See as Angels but robots!

Solomus known in legend as representing wisdom itself. His Divine Species called Overseers (I might change their name later). Overseers are closer to what Primes want to achieve, but they don't show it, hiding in shadows. They are a creatures of wisdom, are great Leaders, and mostly personify order and wisdom themselves.

Epistemus embodied knowledge personified, connected to the Mind and Brain Core itself. That said his Divine species is more harmful than it might seem. Hypnocerises are the creatures familiar with Mind, Consciousness and Memory more than anyone else, and only the greatest Mnemosurgeons and Cerebrosurgeons can rival their core.

Mortilus is the personification of death and it seems that he had vile thoughts in mind creating Thanatomorphs. These are the creatures of hunger and sin, death and immortality. They are able to hear and see death and danger, and are dark in their own spark. They are almost immortal, as their frame regenerates by itself, and their spark is hard to destroy.

Adaptus is blessed with infinite forms, gave to mechanical races an ability to transform. And blessed his children with divine forms too. Lycanformers are the divine species able to change into almost every form they want to, with the borders being just their frame. But Adaptus wanted a war against the Universe (fearing that their utopian lifestyle would only lead to stagnation and decay). This is why Lycanthropes are Killers. They are Apex predators of Cybertronian world, able to survive or kill almost everything.

[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?»

[mnemoiisms]

He's ready to flick at a servo if it tries to touch over the worst of the damage, but seems Ghostspire is more than accustomed to war wounds, and sticks to the outer edges to observe and admire.

Good sip of wine, and he's going right for his subspace for a chamois squeeze in the oil around his knees, and gently dabbing at the burns to gently clean away and accumulated dust, grit, or grease.

"Early on in the war, Overlord broke into my place of work, and from there, I spent close to a century as his prisoner. He tired of Megatron always besting him in combat with such seemingly little effort, like just the presence made him buckle and fold on a whim. As you can imagine for someone unhinged, someone constantly losing fights is not the greatest company to keep.

So, he wanted to use me as an edge on Megatron, find out if he had some sort of kill switch or verbal trigger implanted somewhere in his frame that Megatron was activating to skew they fights." Well, it was a somewhat redacted version of events, but, Ghostspire was neither high ranking to know otherwise nor needed to know he was sharing a bubble bath with a mnemosurgeon. Cerebrosurgeon was far more a pretty label to describe what he did back then.

"I don't actually know if Megatron knew I was there when he stopped by? He knew Overlord was looking for an edge on him the next time they met, but I don't think his visit was personal. But he recognised me, and I recognised him, and I just remember this noise like a thunder clap in my ears and everything just going black."

"No idea how long I drifted in and out of consciousness laying in the rubble, but, eventually got found and patched up. Guess it pays to be nice to the other captive misfits in Overlord's playpen."

He let the mech settle and take off what he needed, pouring the wine and watching him. Ghost settled in front of him, letting the oil slowly slip into seems and joints. He waited until everything was comfortably off before reaching out to gently stroke along the side of the armor and exposed mesh.

He'd seen plenty of plasma cannon blasts before, they were quiet popular amongst Decepticon extremists for.. obvious reasons. Not an easy thing to survive from to any degree. And from the way things look like they had melted, the mech barely had.

Careful not to nick anything as he pulled back and settled, chuckling at the quip.

"Unlike some I don't run and scream at scars or overload on the spot." Settling in and stretching out some. He'd show the mech his back, the exposed wing joints and wires that blended in well enough to stay hidden. If the mech asked, and wanted to see.

"But that is certainly a difficult thing to survive from, I am greatly impressed by your will." Because most mech succumb to it.

[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.

[x-de-con-struct-ed-x--arch]

@cerebrosurgeon replied to your post: *Ironhide looking at all of the big mecha in his...

〈Waves hand at Max, over forty feet tall-〉

This is intimidation and Ironhide will not stand for it.