Transformers X OC Oneshots (REQUESTS OPEN)

Only A Little Crazy // Blitzwing X Femme

Important Note: This occurs in the 'Transformers: Animated' universe after the show ended. Instead of being held in a regular prison like the other Decepticons, Blitzwing was sent to the psych wing of the prison. We all know the higher castes in TFA are probably just as corrupt as ever, so rather than give Blitz and the other prisoners proper treatment, they lock them up (but, let's be real, Blitzwing would still be a Decepticon even if his DID was medicated/managed. All three of them are psycho in their own rights, and the DID has nothing to do with it).

Y/n is technically neutral but often worked with the Decepticons. She creates weapons and is a scientist who is obsessed with chemicals and bombs. She too was captured and sent to the psych wing (for many reasons), where she's been working on a painful and self-deprecating escape for quite some time...

WARNING: SELF-HARM, EXPERIMENTATION, SCHIZOPHRENIA, DISSOCIATIVE IDENTITY DISORDER, OVER-STIMULATION, AND OTHER MENTAL ILLNESS STUFF

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       How long has it been? Very long. Or not long at all. It's all a matter of perspective, and mine is one shared by none other than myself and my lifelong acquaintances. Everyone ignores them...why don't they ignore me? Well, they do now. They paid attention just long enough to put us in this cell, and then silence.

       Well, supposed silence. I think that was the goal. But it's never been louder than in this 10-meter by 10-meter room. So many ideas. Many underestimate the potential of five different minds, working together with nothing but one Cybertronian's wires, Energon, daily rations, and no recharge all while stuck in a cube.

       There are so many chemicals inside of us. It's not just Energon. Our frames sort and mix the chemicals for different uses, and prison rations aren't as filtered as they should be...hints of oil, transmission fluid, engex, and all sorts of chemicals can be found. The samples are minute...but we are patient. My body sorts it out for me, and I've managed to break off sharp shards of my frame to act as blades.

       Surgery like this is...unideal. And every time only bears so much fruit. But my friends tell me when the guards are away, asleep, or simply not watching the camera in this monumental room.

       Monumental why? Because now I get to hold up an Energon cube, glowing with acid. Tomato red acid. What are tomatoes again? An organic fruit. Or vegetable. Or both... Once we're out, we'll have to go to that terran planet and find out.

       Anywho, time for the outside world. It's such a fascinating place, with so many things to learn and explore. Why does no one understand? Why would they lock me in here? Why do they ignore my friends? I've been told they aren't really there...but then how come I now get to watch as the tallest of us slowly pour some of the oozing acid onto the floor?

       And if they aren't real...what do they want from me? Why do they give me conversation and companionship? Do they want me to be one of them? To be someone ignored by the world? I don't want to be ignored. I want to rant and share and tease and joke, and then disappear for a few decacycles before reappearing again.

       A hole is burned through the floor, and one by one we slip through. I hear multiple alarms blaring in my audials, completely jostling my view. The room is...white. There's a desk. A- noise. The sound is loud and...indigo. It's fuzzy and wavy and distracting.

       "Duck!"

       I drop to my knees, servos clamped to the sides of my helm. A blaring barrage of yellow shoots one of my friends down - a feeling of deja vu invading my spark as I watch them fall and lose all shape. All familiarity and strangeness.