😊 would you put in pov for all the love interests?
G1, prime, scavangers and lost light are big favorites of mine. I hope all the characters get at least get one cameo.
What color do you see your oc as? Like what color scheme and optics?
Any chance your oc would go on a race track? I love transformers one race track. It would be so cool if your oc would compete in one. Do you think they will win? Or at least make it to top 3? I feel like Blurr would be first.
Also yay!!✨️✨️✨️ New chapter is coming
If there were a Pov separately, I'm not entirely sure(?) maybe if I had the opportunity and free time to do so, then yes! Or it could be a bunch of 'em mashed with one character (Like an Orion Pax Pov lossibly having the Pov of Elita and Ratchet as well and Megatron's having the Pov of Shockwave and Soundwave)
AND JEPPPYY oh my sweet boy, he's light blue, yellow and smidges of brown. Personally prefer his eyes to be similar in design to D-16 in Tfone. He's taller than MC but it's mostly because it's his alt form that makes him long. He'd definitely want to, but as a courier he wouldn't have the opportunity to race. But I think he'd place the top 10 at most.. I originally thought his design might be well off better as bright yellow but it hurt my eyes far too much. A socially anxious Jeepney and his weird and odd high-caste boss that he always smuggles, what a great duo..
Design and small 'Life on the other Side' drabble below of Jeppy!
This drabble was written like last month lol
MC and Jeppy are so silliest.. Boss is MC, no design of Trapster yet guys!
Jeppy was a simple mech! He liked three things: smooth roads, high-grade fuel additives when he could afford them, and not being dismantled for spare parts.
Currently, his job involved none of those things.
He sat transformed in his alt-mode, a bright, cheerful yellow jeep that stuck out like a sore thumb against the rust-colored landscape of the Kaon border, shivering so hard his suspension was squeaking. This is it.. Jeppy thought, his internal radio cycling through static frequencies out of nervousness. This is how I go. Offlined in a ditch because my boss has a death wish and emotional errors. I thought High Caste didn't even have emotional processors.
I’m going to die. Jeppy thought, the thought cycling through his processor like a glitched subroutine. I am going to be stripped for parts. My spark is going to be sold as a nightlight. My tires will be used as chew toys for a Scraplet! His passenger- the Boss, the High Caste lunatic in the expensive cloak, had gone inside. Alone. Who does that? "Why do I do this?" Jeppy whispered to himself, his internal cabin heating up with anxiety. "For the Shanix? Is 500 Shanix worth my exhaust pipe? No. Is it worth my transmission? Maybe.. But my life?" He knew the answer, and it annoyed him. It wasn't just the money.. High Caste bots were usually nightmares, Jeppy had transported enough of deliveries to them to know. They treated him like the road beneath their pedes, silent, functional, and beneath notice. They spilled high-grade on his upholstery and didn't apologize. They complained about his suspension. They didn't tip. Heck they even kicked him out when he wasn't smiling like they wanted.
But the Boss... The Boss was weird.
The Boss tipped like they didn't understand the value of currency. The Boss said "please." The Boss had looked at him and asked him to take the "scenic route" because they needed to think, not because they wanted to avoid looking at the poor people. They're going to get eaten alive in there. Jeppy thought, watching the blast doors of the clinic. As he shifted gears, prepared to roar out from behind the trash pile, a shadow fell over his hood. Standing a few feet away was a local. This definitely wasn't a miner or a Gladiator.. His plating was rusted through in patches, exposing frayed wiring. He held a crowbar that looked like it had been used to pry open more than just crates, one of his optics was flickering erratically. "Nice wheels." the mech spoke, tapping the crowbar against his own palm.
Jeppy didn't transform. He stayed perfectly still, praying to Primus that he looked like a statue! I am trash, he projected mentally. I am just a box, I have no engine, My catalytic converter is already gone! Go away..! "Shiny Yellow. Don't see yellow down here, too happy."
"I-I'm not happy!" Jeppy squeaked through his external speakers, forgetting he was supposed to be hiding. "I'm actually very clinically depressed! The paint is ironic!" The mech paused, blinking, then he shrugged. "Don't care. Need the axle." Jeppy burst out of his alt mode and impulsibely grabbed a crate, slamming it hard against the mech's helm, even going to the point as even grabbing his crowbar "I said I'm clinically depressed! @#^@;%@?! I'll turn you clinically compressed, would you like that?! You #^#^;@,!?!?" The Crowbar mech grumbled, huffing. "Don't need to fragging yell at me.. damn stupid jeep.." He said before going away as Jeppy threw him back his crowbar. Then, his Boss came back, almost immediately he went back to his courier self, realizing he had lashed out on the mech, his own pedes quivering at his own actions. "Boss!-.. You're actually still alive! I was.. I was already writing a eulogy.. About you.. And me. That mech over there looks like he wants to steal my wheels." He said, a small glare pointed at the mech who looked away. "..Then what're you waiting for?- Let's get out of here." Boss said, he nodded simply, transforming.
@iceybit3 tagged them here bc they enjoyed the last IceÝgen x Reader :3
baking since September 8
did some light editing- (practicly toppings for Iceybit3-)
IceÝgen followed you quietly through the snow back to the Ground Bridge, the snow crunching under his hoof-like pedes as he kept an optic on you with a gap between you both, knowing that your much smaller frame some point, will freeze since the energon resources they were assigned to mark out for the mining Vehicons to get. Him doing most of the work while you kept a lookout for any stalking Autobots.
You knew he was there, just by the steady pattern of the vibrations from his pedes on the snow while you tried to look for the damn Bridge through the forming storm. IceÝgen ex-vented, picking you up and just tossing you into his chassis. Now in a safe and warm place.
[Context for cunfusion you've read the first IceÝgen x reader ; IceÝgen puts his sparklings in a safe space in his berthroom before missions so dw <3]
Looking around and noticing the sign on the back within...interesting? It almost looks like the inside of an an Earthling elevator...but with more space.
Eventually after some time of watching some old video files, you're pulled back out, closing your wrist panel and looking around. Back in The Nemesis. You're placed back down, closing the screen in your wrist and heading back to your berthroom to get some rest...being also a roommate of IceÝgen's, which he doesn't mind that much. But, due to the height differences between you two, he was able to step over you and barely crush you. Barely.
Looking up and-
. . .
. .
.
What are those-?
You just saw a glimpse of something light blue on the bottom of his pedes- What are they?!
You slowed your pace a bit, since IceÝgen is often in no rush, unless if he gets to see Megatron, he's trotting almost like a happy fawn to their mother. Now somewhat being able to see the soles of his pedes—he—you couldn't explain it- but you might be able to search it up and ask what those are.
Eventually reaching the berthroom and slinking through the door after he opens it with a code you can barely see. The room was quite large and spacious. Other than that, IceÝgen does have some unsettling things here in this berthroom.
Like a giant grandfather clock that randomly goes off when he doesn't wake up. Even with that...he has another Wintercon's skull hung on a wall.
Over his bed.
Always.
Who are they?
Who knows.
[ur mom]
But it sometimes keeps you up since you often think it still has its optics. And is staring at either you or IceÝgen, who just acts like a normal painting—probably tipping the spirit of the skull off that he's ignoring its internal suffering like a movie prop.
IceÝgen sat on the edge of his berth. Some snow still stuck on the bottom of his pedes, which he lightly shakes off. You see them again. Huffing, you walk over to him and knock on the side of his pede.
"IceÝgen- Let me see real quick what's under your pedes...!"
You piped up, having to speak slightly louder so that the wintercon can hear little you.
"Why? Nothing's there but snow shown in my internal scan."
IceÝgen replied back, rolling his optics as he shakes off some more snow. The large carpet squaring his berth, soaking up all the H20 that came from its melting form. Your optics narrow, your digits hooking the edge of the armour of his pedes and trying to lift it. Much like a sparkling trying to wake their carrier or sire for energon without understanding the concept of time and that it's still too early to wake up right about now.
IceÝgen laughed lowly, amused by your persistence of what's on the bottom of his pedes, his leg lifting and resting on his other knee. You huffed in annoyance, letting go of his barely moving pede and taking a step back. Now, being able to see the bottom of what's there: You've now found what you've consistently been spotting under his pedes whenever he lifts his leg. Even for a moment.
The bottom of his pede had 4 dots with a metallic light blue hue and were lined in a row at the front bottom of the pede, another one being quite larger and taking the majority of the space in the bottom back of the pede. Shaped an inflated heart. Out of curiosity, you poke one of them lightly with your digit.
It was cold and soft. Almost like silicone is making up its matter with some padding properties that muffle his steps, making his movements eerily quiet when stalking something and or someone. Which you've seen a few times occur to Starscream when alone with him. Poor thing is shaped like the earth's organic, called a bird.
[mosquito*]
So he got hunted down like one. Still having the scar in his wing as a cookie-cutter outline of IceÝgen's dente. Even Megatron has a few that have healed over time and disappeared. You felt the soft surface, watching as it hued a more vibrant shade of its main colour below your digits, pulling back and watching it fade away.
"What are these called?"
You asked, still poking the soft surface, which almost sinks under your touch before reforming. Earning a faint flinch at the contact, making the pressured nerve trigger a reaction that would make him pick up pace for a moment...that is, if he's walking or prowling.
"Pede pads. Or what humans call 'beans' on mammals."
IceÝgen answered.
"I have them also on my servos."
HE HAS MORE?
Your optics widen to the size of moons, looking over to him as your optic ridges rose while doing so.
"I need to see them."
IceÝgen huffed, picking you up by the back of your plating and setting you on his berth, undoing some things on his wrist...making the armour on his servos go loose, pulling it off and setting it down. Not taking the claws with it. They are part of his servos. In awe, you walked up to him as his servo lay palm up next to you. You softly caressed the servo-pads, watching as they faintly flexed as a reaction to the contact...being somewhat able to see the cable composites in it flex as their claws retracted further. Your optic pupils widening as you now just played with the 'benas'.
Mesmerized by the metallic hue of light blue shift under the light of your perspective, wherever you move, flattening his servo and hopping onto the palm of his servo, lying down, and just staring at the ceiling.
IceÝgen hummed, his servo curling around you as a light fist, making you squeak. His servo padding was quite...soft and rechargeable on...your processor settling into a state of rest as the coolness of his frame relaxes you.
How could you get so sleepy in just a few seconds? The cons of staying up long enough that you're convinced the skull on the wall is possessed and is taking its anger out on you.
IceÝgen could only tilt his helm to the side, sighing through his vents and shifting to lie on his berth, you still in his palm, putting the servo armour to the side on the nightstand and keeping an optic on you as you slept.
"Bonne nuit.. Il est tard de toute façon."
IceÝgen muttered, his optics closing. His servo pads picking up on your sparkbeat.
TRAPSTERRRRR Awwwwww I LOOVE trapster when can we give trapster a big ol hug??? Ur one of a kind pookie
Trapster and Jeppy miiight be the only bots holding reader together
Oh but seriously, are they the only two bots that the system doesn’t kick in for? Like they’re the only bots that ACTUALLY know reader?? Sorry if this question is like.. gonna expose any plot 😭 I just love them so much they kinda remind me of my bffs. I’m super excited for an update!!!
I feel like the System is making sure that you know!!! Reader, their favorite Cybertronian doesn't have a mental breakdown and get sent to Cybertronian Asylum, or worse, Empurata!!! Although the maintenance wasn't apart of it's plan.. If only Alpha Trion hadn't meddled with it during their meeting 😡
But Jeppy and Trapster are really really some bots outside of the original plot and mayy be somehow possibly just added there by the System, or purposely made their paths cross. If yougetwhatimsayinggg I dont know how to wordit properly LMAO 😭
You could barely sleep...being kept in some box under the wintercon's bed, having been picked up by some Decepticon in the cold on the side of the road, hurt and abandoned by your own family...now here on some ship in the sky. Surrounded by some large pillows and blankets to keep you warm to put you to rest while the medicine kicked in to help your weakened immune system, having gotton the medicine with a human holoform at a pharmacy.
Barely being able to breathe through a stuffy nose and phlegm clogged lungs, the tissue box given half-way done...shakingly getting up with the weakness in your knees, walking to the nesrest wall and knocking it to get the sleepy giant's attention.
The wintercon growled...shifting onto his side and reaching his servo under the berth. Pulling the box out and opening the top to see what you need now. Rising an optic ridge. You tried to speak, but it came out raspy and dry...clearing your throat and coughing from the slight sharp pain that followed.
"Ты кажешься ужасным... едва можешь сомкнуть глаз."
IceÝgen huffed, gently reaching his servo in and picking you up gently with the blanket and holding you by his abdominal region, looking up at him like he's some moutian. He seems like one, even on his side or standing. Curling into the blanket as his digit fixed the blanket over your cold body.
His arm curving around you as he settled back into sleep. You were just like a premature offspring of a wintercon, somewhat wobbly when you move and screeching almost when you try to communicate.
Poor baby, so frail and weak he couldn't help but nurture you? Who else was? No one. So he did. You seemed similar enough to be some of his own in terms of having been abandoned by your own kin.
His optics closing as his engine revved lightly, producing you some heat radiating off his frame. His engine creating a contented...purr. Seening to be snoring.
(what it technically sounds like- hehehe)
You sighed, sniffling as you closed your eyes...forcing them so stay closed until they relaxed into doing so. IceÝgen planned to try to feed you in the morning something...maybe at a restaurant? A fast food? Or will he have to make it himself? Who knows.
The vibrations of the snore relaxing your muscles and focusing your tired mind. Even helping them mucus clear as you settled into an elevated state. Now slowly slipping into sleep as your mind slowed...your heart a quiet thrum in your chest cavity.
Now paying off your sleeping dept you've had since the longest you can remeber, often causing you to be able to feel your eyebags when your bored enough in silence. Like it's a foreign object stuck to your face.
Your mind slipping into a fever dream you barely remembered in the morning.
Reader wondered alone, insisting that they would be okay looking for the source of where the explosion had came from...passing boulders and hills to a burned down sight, a chard circle where a white blob lied—a leucismic predacon.
You approached slowly towards Ghoststar, having seen him a few times before around Predaking, and the other predacons. Often being in front or behind the pack, never the middle.
Now just living in his own space since the Decepticons were disbanded. Waiting seemingly for the rest of his clan he's lost long ago.
Your looked him over slowly, circling him for a bit till you found where his head is tucked under his wing, your servo slowly reaching his helm and softly caressing the area between his horns. Causing the poor thing to flinch almost...leaning into your touch as he blows heavy air towards you...his white optics fluttering open as they fixed onto you.
Ghoststar's mandibles twitched, growling as his wings tucked to his frame, his chest glowing a brighter white as both your servos rubbed his cheeks with your knuckles. Almost metling into your touch.
Poor thing hasn't had much contact and care since its creation. Being subjected to plenty of phychical violence from Starscream that's made Ghoststar a bit skittish to the smallest sounds, and recently, terrorfied of any aircraft body that is a jet flying over. Either hiding or swooping down at it at alarming speed that's made you see the Allspark almost.
Ghoststar chuffs at your touch, transforming into his cybertronian form, now on his knees to be your near your height, his servos on yours to nuzzle the plams of your own. His optics half-lid with a small smile on his faceplates. His glossa sticking out slightly as you give him head rubs and small kisses.
Over time he's gotten used to you being near him and his territory. Even being less snappy at other predacons and cybertronians. Now just contently melting into your touch and small praises of being such a good lad. His chassis rumbling with a purr from his engine revving.
No longer giving you the look of a kicked puppy.
His clawed digits trailing to your waist and hugging you close to his tall frame, sitting criss-cross as you rub circles into his cheekplates, tilting his helm back as your servos rub his jawline to his chassis. Lightly patting him as he nuzzles his face against your helm.
Chuffing as you give him all the attention needed to be a happy king oncr again from a fallen kingdom long ago.
possible submechanophobia & xenophobia (AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA-)
Notes:
Reader is human & GN (decided to do hooman-)
Reader is a magical smart scientist in technology + stronk
????? ?????'s design is mostly the same in every universe of Transformers :3 (they're my oc)
baking since 08/29 :,D
Another day and another shift in some place you work in: uncovering some ancient "cybertronian" on another planet with a pulsing energy spike, even with that, the planet in question was nicknamed as "Whiro's Burial", or whatever that means, kinda dark, (But you got that information from Optimus Prime who said no further), and got caught in the Sun's gravitational pull, though it moved very slow from how far it is from Neptune.
How did you get there? Well, let's say spacecrafts have improved with some cybertronian space and technology knowledge that was borrowed and used to upgrade their own space technology, allowing them to learn more about the planets in the solar system.
So here you are, in some underground cave on a planet that has an atmosphere with life, having drifted from another solar system to here. Your arm slowly moving Infront of you like a windshield wiper with a specifically specialized metal detector in hand to pick up an energy marking...your helmet equipped a headlamp to be able to see from how limited the light is, your tools in your bag that wears the side of your belt and trousers down...wearing a gas mask to block out the somewhat toxic air that reminds you of the good ol' days of second hand smoking.
Your boots crunching against the ground as your ankles tilt a bit to slide down a slightly steep hill quite smoothly, nearly letting the ground kiss your forehead as you catch your footing, now walking down a giant tunnel that reflects the sound of your heartbeat almost if you listen closely and pause your breathing.
After some time of walking, you find that the end of the tunnel has either collapsed or been sealed off by rubble, while being accompanied by a large metal sign in some language you don't understand, as it is rusted over by time and age. The engraved photo of someone corroded well. Barely recognizable.
Maybe there was some civilization here, and the photo is their founder? Who knows.
[You'll find out soon.]
Passing the sign and getting a closer look to see if it's possible to find a passage way through the rocks and if there's another otherside...did someone die from the cave collapsing on them? Let's find out...there's red and burgundy plant matter growing through the narrow spaces, and even some red crystals were forming behind some rocks you've moved after connecting the device you were carrying earlier to your belt. Eventually finding a crawl space you can squeeze through.
The knees of your pants are a bit torn and bloodied as a result of the sharp edges of some rubble. Welp- more grunge to your collection is. Even your elbows weren't spared. Dusting yourself off some smaller, loose gems that stuck to your gloves and knees.
Walking further down and...oh...oh dear lord...the whole space was massive, even to the point you thought you went some place else, turning the head lamp off and oh, it's majestic, there was a hole in the ceiling that let in some light, but not a lot, onto a large patch of land in shape of a little island, from your perspective, a lake circled around it with a steady flow of some dark-ish substance that's like water.
Coming from a crack in the wall like a waterfall and going out another gape in the wall under you.
There were red gems of all sizes, ruby, spinel, and garnet that spiralled out and onto the walls with progressive layers like roses and those similar, getting denser and denser around the ceiling. Shifting some light at the up there, a red hue of what you assume to be a grave where it starts on the island...there's a sign there.
Managing to get over and barely getting a drop on your boots up your skidded knees' blood. Sighing as you pull out a piece of the matrix—is Optimus sure this would work? Eh, maybe, he sounded confident enough...and reassuring. Finding the scentor after some "don't step on the sidewalk cracks" game with the crimson rocks while climbing up the hill. Looking around to get a better look before you do what the Prime suggested.
The burgundy plant matter was here as well, but more...lively...a few of you've even spotted growing inside some of the crystals. Looking to the center and looking closely, it was red with some burgundy froal and moon markings over a red outline of a cybertronian spark Optimus drew for you since you didn't know what their sparks looked like...setting the cyan piece in the spot it was supposed to be.
The froal and moon markings
What did Optimus also say to do?
Run.
Why?
You didn't want to get crushed or sent to another dimension, did you?
So you M O V E D-
Now, back where you were at the entrance of this red crystalized room, the red glow expands like tree roots through the gems like veins...the center of the soil-like material cracks with a red glow...the symbol took it, having dragged it down to the center of the being below.
Reviving it.
Now it shall walk again like no funeral has occurred.
You watched in awe as the soil cracks more with a soft red glow, lifting some of the ground in chunks...the being below now revealed once it pulls itself up to be sitting up, shaking its helm some dirt. You almost couldn't believe it.
Dang thing looked like a dark knight in an old book! Fancied with some burgundy floral and moon markings you were able to spot on areas illuminated by the bio lights above that can be mistaken as the Sunlight of this solar system. The back of the helm is equipped with some pieces of metal that mimic a pommel of a knight's helmet in some countries in Europe during monarchy times...the figure looking at their servos despite the armor that hid their face.
Having to strain your hearing to hear their muttering in possibly some ancient cybertronian you couldn't understand, but...damn. They're quite tall for a Prime. Could they be Whiro? Who knows. The Prime eventually rose to their pedes, causing chunks of the dark soil matter to fall off and out the gaps of their amor, still managing to fit in the space with their faintly shaky stance of how long they might've been laying down in their dirt coffin...maybe the size description from before was an understatement, it almost looked like they were in a rounded ball room made of red glass and gems if the Prime was human sized and you were just a watcher byer of a film in an ad. But it wasn't, yikes. How are you gonna get them out now? The tunnel seems large enough that they can easily stroll through now that you look back.
The entity before you dusted the soil matter of their armour, even looking at the palms of their servos to see if this was real or not, their helm tilting to the side and exposing the red gem and crystals that grew over time under the armour around their neck and shoulders...their optics behind the facial armour and visor fixed onto you. Kneeling down and pulling out a giant, black sword that was embedded in the ground. Seeming to be layered with three swords, the other two smaller than the main stabber, that's the biggest of the two as the main blade. The floral markings are noticeable on the non-sharp surface of the metal and the hilt...glowing from the matrix within them that's giving it power to burn such a surface. Even the sword wasn't spared; some gems were growing behind the smaller blades.
You tensed. Your breath hitching at the sight of the entity now focused on you as it rose to its full height...possibly 95 ft...it could kill you now if they wanted to, instead its movements slow and seemingly meticulously coordinated in how it approaches you. Their optics drilling through your soul and fibres of your being, kneeling down where you are, their elbow on their knee. Even with no optics visible, you can feel them fixed onto you. Analyzing you as its upper body lowers a bit. The dark water lapped at the armour of their pedes.
"What are you."
The voice of it was deep, almost unrecognizable of being living with some rust in it from how long it's been use since possible death, making your bones and skull grow cold, giving you nearly a dizzy spell that you had to take a step back.
"U-uh.. Hello? I- ...I'm a human?"
You cringed, saying that. That alone sounded like you have no clue either what you are. A homo sapien that doesn't know either what itself is exactly in the common language.
"...You sound unsure."
The entity questioned, their optics behind the head armour narrowing. Their large free servo softly tapping a digit on the plastic helm.
"Did you forget from the air numbing your skull?"
Whiro taunted somewhat, earning a soft yelp from you as the clawed finger made contact in a surprisingly gentle manner on your head. Lightly pushing the metal away, which it does move—the servo now just next to you.
"Uh, are you...Whiro Prime?"
Whiro nodded faintly, sheathing the sword back onto their hip. The glow in the blade fading away now that it's not in their hold.
"Better known as The Sparkless Prime."
Whiro's reply was quite nonchalant with the reply. Your eyes widen slightly, nodding a bit to be respectful, not really questioning it...suddenly being picked up by the servo next to you in a gentle manner. Whiro got up slowly back on their pedes.
—t i m e s k i p b c i t q u i c k—
You currently have the Prime back on Earth, having slowly introduced them to Optimus, which is letting them both be in the same, large field you have as your yard, as someone who lives almost in the middle of nowhere. Letting them figure out one another's boundaries and language just by a few bluffs from Whiro to see if the Primes of the modern day have been degraded.
(Farmer core🌾)
Ya' know. Privacy? Who else doesn't get driven to the roof by their snoopy neighbours that keeps asking through spam calls about wtf you're doing in your basement? Who knows. But you've seen some moments you'd call preening just from Op getting chunks of dirt out of Whiro's armour that didn't come out despite the height difference, even some loose gems that were grinded down from their original place from Whiro's movements. Which he kept for later.
Currently, the Sparkless Prime was curled around you, almost, on their flank along the freshly mowed grass as you properly cleaned their armour. Optimus Prime was away trying to get rid of Megatron's trail of finding the reawakened Prime. Now getting every so often a chuff or growl from Whiro whenever you try to make conversation, having to wear a somewhat thick pair of gloves to be able to clean their armour without feeling the side of your palm going raw from scrubbing.
Which was quite easy yet tough since there is some pieces of soil being stuffed in more narrow details. Which you have to manually pick out with steel wool. After some time from having to get the poor thing to roll over every so often to reach a spot, the grass under them was just stained a dark colour that makes an illusion their shadow grew darker.
Now currently curled around your space as you try to figure out how to open their torso plates...every so often chuckling deeply when your tries are futile of opening their chassis to possibly get out hidden grime and unwanted rocks...the area around you both sprinkled with red gems that got loose from their movements. Whiro didn't mind now, after some weeks of you pampering them to a healthy state that made them less jumpy from any unexpected contact, like brushing shoulders with a tall object when exploring.
Even then, they'd round up the gems that have shed off from under their armour that's fallen and give them to you as a doom pile by your porch to do something with them...which you'd either sell for money or keep as a stash for yourself in the future to put to use if given the chance.
"Still trying...?"
Whiro teased, watching as you gave up and sat down.
"Not anymore, I'll try later."
Whiro hummed, their helm resting on the side of their arm. Watching as you got up and headed to their face. Your arms hooking the edge of the optic armour of the upper half of their faceplate and push it to the side like a rusted barn door, which you manage and try to catch your breath. Looking over to their optics and being stopped in your trail of thought and movements.
Their optics were a deep shade of burgundy with red flakes thrown in, making an illusion their optics were made of gem matter; the edge of their optics slightly squinted. Indicating a light smile. The mouth guard is still up. Their helm shifting so that they can see you horizontally, the edge of their jawline against their bicep.
You were in awe, feeling as if the world was lighter as your hands softly rested on their cheeks, getting a soft growl as you felt the surface, softly nuzzling your hands before pulling back, sitting up on the side of their ankles while crisscross and mass displacing...seemingly around now 10 ft...interesting? This form could be used to get around smaller placeless to not be spotted if on a mission. You slowly approach as they rest their elbows on their knees, leaning a bit over to be nearly eye level with you.
Their face, most importantly; their optics were magnificent to look at and get lost in.
Your hands cupping their face again, earning a soft chuff as you look over their face now that it's exposed. Almost melting into your gentle hold, Whiro has never felt this kind of touch before, even before, as a prime when they used to be smaller and not so dark in armour tone with red highlights. Their optics fluttering close as your thumbs circled their cheeks.
Their mind settles into a content (yet hesitant) state, that they'd open their optics every so few times, to see your face. If you're growing disgusted with them, but won't say anything just to please them as a prime. But, no, your gaze was still soft and focused, seeming to be intraced with their unique being.
Their optics tearing up as they lean into your hold for more of your love. Closing with a heavy vent as they make a soft sound equivalent to a purr in their engine. Your heart aching at the sound. Poor thing mustn't have had much love growing up and is going loose in the touch you're giving them.
Your hands cupping their cheeks and soothingly rubbing around the plating by their optics. Their helm settles into a limp state in your hands...their mouth guard lowering as it shifts to be hidden behind the armour by their jaw. Their lips set into a neutral state with a tint of a small tug up. Safe and soaking in your love like sunlight, the antenna on the sides of their helm is lowering as well.
"You're.. comfy.. how can someone with a role as yours have such soft...palms?
Whiro muttered through their fangs, nuzzling your hands as the rest of their frame went limp. You chuckled in response, their servos lightly holding onto your forearms with a gentle touch despite the sharp edges of the servo armour and claws.
You slowly settled to sit down on the grass, not really wanting to stand forever with a drozzey Prime that's nearly lying on top of you. Whiro grumbles, shifting their frame as well to be sitting on the side of their thigh armour as you set their helm on your lap. Their Optics somewhat open as they growled softly. Your hand softly caresses the side of their helm as they shift a bit to be closer to you. Their servo resting on the tibia of your leg closest as they wrap their arm around your hip. Now growing quite protective.
Whiro hasn't had any form of touch like this from someone who wasn't a medic, trying to settle their non-existent spark that they go into overdrive and shut down back into stasis from the stress following them the last time they were awake.
You found this endearing, almost sad, how they were snappy and short-tempered to anyone's nonsense of trying to pull their leg, which is reflected with a growl or glare to get them to stop. Your free hand next to theirs by your side.
"I want to stay with you..."
Whiro mutters sleepily. Their processor slowing down to a steady stream than how it was running before, as a waterfall of memories and thoughts since awakening.
"You already are."
You reasured, softly patting their shoulder and resting there. Whiro's optics lit up at that information. Delighted almost as their empty spark chamber warms up.
"Even better."
Whiro responded, their optics closing fully.
You laughed lightly. Poor Whiro. What will they even do when you're away at work? You're gonna figure that out later since they're gonna go offline soon into recharge.
shockwave being a struggle to write so maybe after posting this there will be some changes here and there in dialog
Note:
Reader will be GN + cybertronian > <
IceÝgen is my Transformers oc :3
I've been baking this story since Augest 10.
You've been in the Decepticon fraction for quite a long time in the lab, often having your faceplate buried in datapads of information Shockwave leaves you to scheme over and edit before going back to what you were doing in the morning.
That of recently—since you don't go out often due to your work in Shockwave's lab—have noticed there's a wintry giant in the Nemesis Shockwave seems to worry sometimes in the other room of the lab.
Obviously, the con he's worried about is quite tall just by the vibrations of their pedes on the metal floor when passing by or entering the space.
But aaaaayyy-
You haven't gotton much of a chance to even get a look at 'em.
Only a sliver in the crack of your door when he walked in for a moment out of curiosity of what Shockwave was even doing...you could only remember their white armor palting. Maybe there was some silver-blue accents on them...you're not fully sure.
You've asked Shockwave about it, but the only vague response you can remember was that the mech is a 100 ft wintercon with an extra pair of limbs that are tucked to his body, mostly around his stomach area. He has a pair of goggles on his helm you onetime saw, you know, the skier kind? yeah, those, but they were a white-blue.
So, you one mega cycle you asked Shockwave when you got the chance around the time there's less activity.
"Oh? Their name...?"
"Yeah, what is it?"
"The wintercon's name is IceÝgen."
"Iceyhuh?"
"IceÝgen.."
"Oh! IceÝgen...! Never heard of him. What's he like?"
Shockwave rolled his single red optic. Paucing for a moment to think of how to explain this to you.
"He's selfisolating due to abonnement issues. His internal heater was damaged when we first found him in the time period Earth was a 'snowball'. Resulting on his insides frosting over due to bluntforce trauma done from the attack from an Autobot group that resulted in the death of his mate. Despite it—his communication systems are very well advanced to work through the cold and snow when the miner vehicons can't."
"Oh.. is it possible for the heater part to be fixed fixed?–"
"He has an extra pair of limbs."
"WHAT-"
So here you are the mega cycle after. Face to face with IceÝgen, having to tilt your head back by 70-96° to look him in the optics...somewhat. Considering they had light-silver blue eyebag-like markings around them, which you might have seen before on Knock Out's wall of human band musics you barely understood. The optics themselveswere quite unique, they were a light-silver blue with white optic pupils.
Your optics glazing him over now that you have a better angle at him as Shockwave does some work to the side prepping some things now that you decided to come out like the xenophobe you are into the light.
The atmosphere around him cold like a slow flowing waterfall. . . you can already just feel the ground below your pedes gradually getting colder in waves that roll off his tall frame.
His stabilizing servos (legs) caught your attention, they were quadruped shaped, much like the life forms on Earth's surface called "animals". The second pair in question tucked to his lower torso quiet neatly, you almost didn't pick it up first time looking at him. Even his lower pair of arms!
His pedes were similar go what humans called a lynx and...uh...mountain goat?
That surprised you. Even looking him over he has what looks like retractable BLADES on his servos as CLAWS, even on his elbows, shoulders, and his heels.
IceÝgen harshly growled, stomping his pede just infront of your much smaller frame. Making the ground shake and you almost fall backwards onto your aft, causing you to yelp and move back quickly. Huffing through the vents under his nasal ridge a giant, cold white fog you thought was a cloud for a moment until it formed thin icicles that melted off due to the temperature of your armor.
.
.
.
IceÝgen chuckled, taking a few steps back to his own respective space bubble from before...probably smirking behind his mouth guard. Shockwave only glanced over to you to see what's happening...rolling his optic and going back to what he was typing up.
You were fuming from that—having just been bluff charged by a WINTERCON who did it for the laughs. Now that you have gotten a step back—he's got HORNS, one's that curve back and spike up!
(NOT THAT KIND OF SPIKE YA' NASTY🧼-)
WHAT ELSE HAS THIS MINITURE FROST MOUNTAIN GOT HIDDING?!
Anyhow. You were only here to help Shockwave with something about IceÝgen, that being checking their internals for why IceÝgen's heaters weren't working, even when it was fixed by Knock Out from before.
IceÝgen shakingly sat criss-cross to be within range of reaching into his chassis and torso, which slide open to the sides in four parts like some of the Earth natives' curtains. Causing some chunks to fall off the vents by his sides from the movement.
But...something small caught your attention.
"What do you have in there."
Shockwave piped up, his helm tilting to the side as his optic stared a laser through the colder mech.
"Quoi?– Ah, nothing."
IceÝgen replied, his voice quiet deep with an accent...What was it? Russian? French? or perhaps both? Not sure.
"Sure.."
You lightly cooed, your optics narrowing as your servos rested on your hips. Getting shot at with a glare from the mech, snarling.
"Shut up, scrapbox."
"Whats that?"
Shockwave lightly growled. Taking a step closer. Resulting in him getting a light glare with a low growl from the bigger mech.
"Pas grave.."
". . . Okay~"
You cooed, not really understanding what he's saying, and out of curiosity, you took a step closer and peering in...what was moving in there?
.
.
.
A sparkling poked their helm out. Their optics large, curious, and spark squeezing. And another popped out, and another pair came out, and a fifth . . . !
They all look almost like IceÝgen, but different. . . in a sense they're Wintercons, like him, some having the same blade armor as him.
A few had their mouth guards up.
Some had different coloured markings with white as their primary colour.
But most importantly..
.
.
.
HE HAS FIVE SPARKLINGS IN HIS CHASSIS?!
Shockwave's antennas perked up. His optic shifting slightly on the sparklings.
"How long have they been in there this time...?"
Shockwave questioned in a stirn tone. The sparklings still looking up at you two as IceÝgen cups his servo below his open chessis to prevent his kin from trying to ecscape the safe space.
"15 Earth weeks."
IceÝgen replied. His optics fixed on the sparklings as they squeak and try to form words.
"...Huh?"
"He uses the Earth timezone to messure time. Having grown up and learned it as a sparkling. So, in Cybertronian time, the litter has been in there for 15 mega cycles."
Shockwave explained, his servo flicking on a little button inside IceÝgen's chassis, causing some little lights to flick on. His lower torso an open room with railing along the inner walls with some neon-yellow-cyan striped signs in English, French, Russian, and old Cybertronian, which warn to hold onto the railing when things get bumpy.
The top part of his internals frosted over, even his fuel lines are stuck together. Some lights in there are also iced over.
Though.. what caught Shockwave's attention the most was the floor of the room compartment had a few layers of blankets and pillows. The Sparklings squeaking again as they tried to avoid the light.
Your optics widening at the sight. You almost thought you were dreaming.
"1.5 vorns?! That's....how?!"
You panicked. Struggling go figure out how this is possible. Even for a winter technology advanced Cybertronian you didn't even have a clue existed.
"It's normal widowed wintercon behavior who didn't have a pack when in development of their sparkling years, particularly those who had planned to have sparklings of their own with their mate. But couldn't. So, they fill the hole by adopting sparklings they're able to find without a parental figure of their own.."
Shockwave explained, his tone quiet clear and firm for your sake so you don't hide back in your little cave from how sudden all this is.
"...Why don't they have sparklings with, uhm...another Wintercon that does and doesn't already have offspring?"
You asked, your optics fixed on the smaller Wintercons as they squeak and chirp as Shockwave's servo slowly hovers over them, his optic shifting a bit to see who to pick up first.
"Widowed wintercons feel a sense of betrayal to their deceased mate when they do try with one whom does and doesn't already have offspring. Which is a result of wintercons being a mainly mate-for-life species of cybertronian since their exsistance has been repurpsed by energon companies that go beyond space to leave one or two, or even more, of them on a ice planet with an energon spike the companyies' technology won't survive in for long."
(NOTTHATKINDOFSPIKEYA'FILTHY🧼-)
Shockwave clarified for you, gently picking up one of the sparklings by the underbelly and looking them over. Making the little one squeak and cling to him with their claws.
Earning a warning growl from IceÝgen while a sparkling clings to their current sire's servo for stability.
"How do you know this?"
"Datapads and free time learning what IceÝgen is so that it's easier to care for him."
"Aw, you care-"
"I do. They're difficult to learn with old reports and studies of them. He's quite social with Predaking, somewhat. They don't mind showing a bit of affection after getting a beating or two from Starscream."
Shockwave replied. Gently shifting the sparkling to lay on their back in his palm so that he can see its torso and if there's any damage done there.
"This is SnÖWslap. Femme. Quite healthy with a dew claw."
"What?"
Shockwave gently places the sparkling on his cannon arm and allows the sparkling to cling to his servo, slowly lifting her upper arms up in a way to shows off the little blades that are on the half way down the forearms. It's retractable just by the blade unsheathing from under a plate that's slightly up.
"This is an uncommon trait to see this trait in wintercons. Mostly those who came from an environment that they need to defend their resources; energon and frozen energon, mostly from apposing companies and or other beings being a threat to it."
Your optics widen slightly at the information. Damn. This reminds you almost of a group of natives called the Amish and how they'd treat their horses in the articles you've been able to get access to from the Nemesis to figure out how human politics and global information works.
The sparkling squeaks lowly, clinging to Shockwave's servo more as she manipulates her body to now cling onto his servo. Getting a hum of approval from Shockwave that she's exhibiting strength of being able to lift her whole body.
You watched in awe as Shockwave gently sets SnÖWslap back in the huge Wintercon's chassis.
"So.. do they also have heater problems?"
"Luckily, no. They don't have heater problems like their current sire."
You nodded at the response. Looking over to the sparklings, whom all are staring at you in curiosity, having not met any other cons but their own adoptive sire, Shockwave, possibly even Megatron, and more...their white optic pupils wide as they watch your every move.
"We need to keep the sparklings in there if we need to do this operation to figure out why the heater isn't doing what its supposed to."
"Why?"
"It would be illogical for you to lose a limb at this time due to his strong instinct control."
You shuddered at the thought of losing something major off your frame just because you picked up a con's offspring and lost a servo or arm from it. So, you shifted your focus onto the heater, which is tucked in under where you resume is the wintercon's fuel duo tank, that is tucked sort of under the spark, to store energon in after some time of over-consumption to last for longer periods of time in a moment of famine or sacristy of energy resources within reach. The heater is frosted over despite the soft humming it creates with a faint red glow underneath between the cracks.
To get within reach of the heater, you got up onto the wintercon's stabilizer servos and onto their arm. Now within optic level with the heater.
Shockwave picked up an object off a table, walking over to your side as your servo rubbed over the thin ice, hooking a digit under an edge for leverage and peeling it off, earning a growl from the huge wintercon at the sensation. Even then, he's trying to stay still, only moving his servo to keep his sparklings in from getting out.
Unsure what to do with it, you just chuck the piece of ice to the side and get the other chunks off. Looking over to Shockwave as he screws open the front of the heater to get a proper look inside.
.
.
.
It's a haywire mess- The fuel lines within weren't connected properly to where they were supposed to go, even a few wires where barely holding on- it was like a scraplet went to town in there before finding bigger prey and going for it instead of what's left in his heater system at the moment. Making you almost gasp as your processor registers what's before you.
Taking a step to the side to let shockwave deal with it himself. Watching as he fixes the fuel lines and wiring to what they're supposed to be. Even unknoting some that were looped odly.
"Starscream is most likely to do this. Its illogical that Knock Out would leave it like this after the last few operations."
"Why would that mosquito do that?-"
"Starscream often does this as an act of revenge of simply existing and being better than him."
Damn. First he's a drag queen, mosquito, and now he's a PICK ME? What else is he? A CURLY FRIES LOVER?
Shockwave closed the heater once he was done, hopping off the grumpy wintercon and and walking back to the computer to report back to Megatron his adoptive-sparkling's health.
You slowly slid off after, making the wintercon sparklings squeak and wail for your attention after the four parts of IceÝgen's torso close.
Damn.
Talk about horror.
You steadied yourself once you were back on your pedes on the even colder ground. Turning around and seeing the wintercon's expression is softer than it was before...a bit. Getting a soft growl as he shifted slowly to get up, as shaky as they sat down. Stretching out his whole body to the capacity Shockwave's lab can containt.
"I wonder often if he's too big or the nemesis is too small."
Shockwave muttered, lightly shaking hid helm.
"What?"
You questioned, not really getting at what he meant.
"He's still in his development stages of a Wintercon. So technically he's a late teen in native standards."
"How old is he then?"
Shockwave paused for a moment. Unsure how you'd react to this information of the wintercon's age.
"720 millions years old in Earth time. So dividing it by Cybertronian vorns, which is 83 earth years, would make him 8.6 million vorns old in our time."
OH..
HE'S OLD. Like...ancient kind of old in Cybertronian standards of age, even for the Earth natives! Who barely even live for 2 vorns! That information alone almost making your jawdrop. . . damn. This poor thing must've seen things you haven't.
You nodded once you recollected yourself. Looking over to the wintercon who was staring you down.
"J'apprendrai votre nom de désignation plus tard. Y/N~"
IceÝgen cooed, dryly chuckling and heading out the lab, causing the floor below you shake from the weight of his body and pedes. Making Shockwave just rest his digit on the edge of a nearby vile as he read the written up report of IceÝgen's new medical report.
"And off he goes again. Back to recharging."
Shockwave mumbled to himself outloud. Looking over to you as you walked back to your little cave.
Operation successful! The wintercon no longer suffers being internally cold.
And now he visits every now and then to see you and get you to meet the sparklings due to how persistent they to your new presence.
