Grapple looked over the plans. They were exquisite, of course. He had drafted them. They had to be by their very nature. He traced over the lines with his fingers, remembering the feel of the ideas. The plans whispered to him of carefully arrayed columns. His pinkie delicately touched the curves and designs of the termini. Grapple did not even need to behold the plans with his optics to experience the content. He could feel the difference in texture between the slightly raised ink and the smooth, slick plastic.
He remembered painstakingly dimensioning the blueprints. The Golden Ratio sang in every length. Grapple had been delighted to see that the humans knew that sacred phi. Then and only then did he start to take them seriously.
The structure did not vault for the sky. It was content on the ground, as he was. Grapple had blended stately nobility with a warm coziness. He had been so very proud.
Then the Decepticons wiped the structure from the face of Cybertron.
Grapple tossed the blueprint in the incinerator. Optimus Prime was right. He was foolish to moon over lost dreams.
*hugs Grapple* Poor dear... Such a sad piece - it sets you up for how much he loves what he has created, and then rips it away in four short sentences.
He remembered painstakingly dimensioning the blueprints. The Golden Ratio sang in every length. Grapple had been delighted to see that the humans knew that sacred phi. Then and only then did he start to take them seriously.
The structure did not vault for the sky. It was content on the ground, as he was. Grapple had blended stately nobility with a warm coziness. He had been so very proud.
Then the Decepticons wiped the structure from the face of Cybertron.
Grapple tossed the blueprint in the incinerator. Optimus Prime was right. He was foolish to moon over lost dreams.
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I'm generally pretty indifferent to Grapple, but now I want to snuggle him!
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