Mentions Of Optimus Prime - Tumblr Posts
Preview to a ficlet I’m writing for Transformers
This is in response to a Mafia AU with Humanformers roleplay my friend is in. I was submitting this in response to a prompt given for the RP for the part of roleplaying as Ratchet. The Prompt was: “ Optimus and Ratchet fighting because OP ignored a warning from him not to send out certain members and it ended up with some of them nearly dying and one currently in critical condition. “ It was pretty vague to give the writer the freedom to explore the possibilities of the scene.
I took my 3 paragraphs I wrote to get the part of Ratchet and made it my own starter for a ficlet I’m dubbing...
Whiskey Instead of Rubbing Alcohol
It had been ten hours since he left the medbay, ten hours of his hands deep in the gut of someone else, voice hoarse from barking order after order. It had been easy for him to fall into the adrenalin rush of having more patients than on-call nursing staff. The room where he had worked was freezing at one point but had since heated with the bodies that swarmed inside it like maggots to a corpse. In the chaos, he hadn’t realized how much blood had actually got on him and his once light blue scrubs were an ombre of reds. His arms still had specks of blood on them and he could feel the sweat still sliding down his face as he tried to calm his pounding heart. His eyes were thin slits as he squinted to deny the migraine that was begging to form behind his eyes. His shoulders were tense, boxed and seemed like a warrior getting ready to face off against an army he was outnumbered for. His breath shutters for what seems like the millionth time since he left the ward with all its patients in stable condition, and he bowed his head to rub at the bridge of his nose. Outnumbered like the men Optimus had sent into the fray with nothing more than a pep talk and some rushed instructions.
His teeth grind so hard together he could feel the sandiness of his teeth slowly being whittled away. His hand slammed onto his desk from his nose, reaching again for the large jack-daniels and pouring the open bottle into his glass. He threw his head back as he took the entire glass like a shot, the burn spreading like a poison across his tongue and burning away his anxieties as it scorched down his throat before sending one last devil’s cry up his nose. As it settled to melt his stomach, he sputtered a cough, moisture pricking his eyes as he rapidly blinked to clear his vision, sure of when his vision cleared the body of one of his patients would be lying dead before him. He ran a trembling hand through his now spiked hair, trying to smooth it down as if it would soothe him, but his anger caused his hand to clench around the ends and pull with a force that ripped a few strains from his head. The burn of vinegar was pungent when mixed with the copper scent coming from the ward down the hall.
His office was dimmed and the only light was that on his desk, the yellowed glow reflecting off his face and making him seem gaunt and sickly discolored. Heavy bags under his bloodshot eyes, staring blankly at the paperwork that would need to be filled out and filed later. He couldn’t bring himself to even recount in writing what he had to do to save those poor men- boys, they were so young- lives. His breath wavers as his shoulders shake with the manifestation of his frustrations and he shakily poured himself another glass. Occasional beeps drifted into his office from behind his closed door and it seemed to him as if the reaper was ringing his bell and trying to lure those boys to eternal sleep after all he tried to do to save them. He wouldn’t be surprised if at least three didn’t survive the night- but he hoped to any god above, if one existed, that they would all pull through. He didn’t think he could handle having to call their mothers with the news of their children’s youthful demise.