𝖁𝖎𝖗𝖚𝖘

🩸– 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖛𝖊𝖘! 🥩 𝕾𝖍𝖊/𝖍𝖊𝖗. 𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖔𝖗.

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Froid (^.^)

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This is my 30th art with Sunder

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Testing the volume

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𝙲.𝟾 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗

— My brain? — You asked, looking into his optics and noticing how his gaze had stopped at your head.

— Brain? — Sunder repeated, as if tasting a new word. — What a primitive... term. — Feigned politeness laced his voice, with hidden mockery beneath it.

— And what do you need it for? — You locked your gaze onto his optics more intently. He squeezed you tighter in his hand.

— It's where all the most delicious things are stored. All the fears, memories, thoughts, emotions... — Sunder drew out every word. — Do you know which ones are my favorites? The vices. Their vices. Their sins. Fear. — You felt a creeping discomfort and squirmed in his grip. It became harder to breathe. You were afraid of exactly how he would do it.

— I'm curious — if I can't get into your head visually, then perhaps through a tool? — He brought the needle on the finger of his other hand to your temple once more, prodding. — Where does this open? — He was baffled.

— There's nothing to open there! — Your voice cracked. It infuriated you that he was playing like this and violating all boundaries. — If you open it, you'll tear everything in there apart.

Sunder withdrew his hand.

— Really? — He looked at you, as if craving confirmation.

— Really. — You answered more calmly. You had the feeling that you were dealing with a child, not a giant killer robot.

Sunder understood that he wouldn't be able to penetrate your thoughts by any of the methods he had used on cybertronians.

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Sunder x fem reader…

I'm drawing a person for the first time in three years... Even back then, I only drew them about twice....I think I like it...blep

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Pls?

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Sunder body sketch

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I decided to write a fanfic about Froid and Sunder... hehe... why not?

Froid hated the feeling of fear hidden deep within his spark — the feeling that was constantly with him whenever he was near Sunder. But the fear was overshadowed by another feeling, stronger, denser, prouder. Froid believed he had taken control of Sunder, believed he was the only one who could do it, the only one who could tame the monster — and it only stroked his ego, allowing Froid to forget the fear, forget his self-preservation instincts around a killer like this one.

— You've brought me new portions, haven't you, Froid? — Sunder sat in the cell, watching Froid with his piercing blue optics. His voice was calm and maddened all at once. — I can sense... that aroma. Your fear, mixed with your absurd research curiosity. It's so... sweet. — Sunder's voice was smooth as oil. He let out a low, guttural sound, like the rumble of an engine.

— No. — Froid answered coldly, walking up to the cell and crossing his manipulators over his chest. Though it irritated him how Sunder could read him, Froid loved control, and someone else's control shattered that predictability, making Froid nervous.

— No? — Sunder repeated, raising an optical ridge and looking at Froid. — I can still feel the tension in your circuits, no matter how much you deceive yourself. — He moved closer to the bars, staring at Froid. — Do you really think this distance will save you?

— You think I'm looking for salvation? — Froid looked at Sunder with something like arrogance. — If I were looking for it, I wouldn't be standing at your cell. And you are the complete opposite of salvation. — Froid's voice did not waver, betraying not a single emotion. After all, the psychologist had learned to do that, but it didn't help much.

— The opposite of salvation... — Sunder repeated, slightly quieter, gazing somewhere at the wall beside Froid, then shifted his gaze back to him. — So what are you hoping to find in this rotten, nightmare-stuffed mind? — Sunder tilted his head slightly to the side, watching Froid with curiosity.

Froid took a small step back, looking at Sunder with disgust.

— My thoughts are my own. — An attempt to set a boundary, though boundaries didn't exist around this mnemosurgeon.

— Your thoughts? Oh, Froid... — Sunder's voice dropped. — Do you really think they belong only to you? — He slowly ran a finger along a metal bar, as if it were a string.

— Shut up, Sunder. — Froid snorted, his irritation growing.

— You want to understand what it's like to be me, don't you? — Sunder looked at Froid.

— No, I don't need the kind of mess you have in your processor. — Froid loved order and clarity. A stronger irritation began to wash over Froid, and he turned around and left, closing the door behind him and leaving Sunder.

Some time passed, and Froid returned. Sunder was sitting in the corner of the cell on the floor, lazily scraping his claws against the floor, when he heard the familiar rhythm of footsteps.

— You again? — Sunder slowly turned his head in Froid's direction, but the psychologist said nothing. He walked up to the cell, touched the lock with his slender fingers, and opened it. Froid took a step back, as if allowing the mnemosurgeon to step out, if he wished.

Sunder's optics widened with surprise.

— What are you doing? — His voice sounded astonished. He slowly stood up, pushing the cell door, which slid aside with a creak. — You do understand that...

— You're insufferable. — Froid exhaled. There was neither contempt nor arrogance in it, just a sort of weary resignation and acceptance.

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C.7. Gift [p.s. I'm speedrun these chapters lol]

— Froid left me... a gift. — Sunder let out a low, drawn-out hum, vaguely resembling a cat's purr, which sent a vibration through your body, and raised his thumb, running it along your back in a stroking motion. Roughly. Firmly. But without breaking anything.

You winced slightly, feeling the pressure of his finger on your back. It was disgusting to be treated like a pet, but at least he wasn't trying to drive a needle into your spine.

— Why did he even choose me? — You asked, desperate enough to be questioning this monster.

— Why? A good question... — Sunder's voice was viscous and smooth. — Perhaps the doctor wanted to test whether I could extract memories from a human.

— And why would he need humans? — You interrupted Sunder, burning with curiosity. The Autobot didn't even take offense; on the contrary, he seemed to enjoy the questions. He looked at you attentively.

— Oh, that psychologist. — Sunder seemed to be remembering Froid, but there was satisfaction in his voice. — ..He was curious about everything. Who knows what twisted ideas were stored in his processor? Speaking of processors.. — Sunder fell silent, lifting his gaze and boring it into your head.

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I haven't drawn him in a while

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C.6.

— You reek of fear. — Sunder said it with disdain, using primitive terms as he leaned in and touched his metal lips to your neck, feeling how the muscles in your throat tensed beneath them. Despite being metal, he was warm and smooth. You didn't know for sure — could he really feel it, or had he read your body language, or was he playing again? A shiver ran down your spine from the sensation.

— What do you need me for? — You asked. You were curious about his motives — of course, you knew he was unlikely to tell you directly, but you could at least latch onto some word, some clue. Why hadn't he crushed you yet? Or would he, just later?

— Need you for? — Sunder repeated, lowering his voice, going still. His lips froze against your neck. — Froid left you to me. — Sunder pulled back slightly to look you in the eyes. — Though, he didn't live to see this moment. — A wide, Cheshire grin spread across his face, one that made your skin crawl.

— Froid? Who is that? — You wanted to distract yourself from the fear.

— My... psychotherapist. A psychotherapist with a tragic fate. The very one who locked you in here.

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— You! — You said, looking at Overlord. You recognized him. It was him. The one who had dragged you here like some kind of toy. You pointed a trembling finger at him. Though inside, everything had seized up with anxiety and irritation at being treated this way, as you remembered how you had been calmly walking home when a strange jet had flown up to you and carried you away. He was a robot, for fuck's sake. He could crush you with one finger if he wanted to.

— Why did you kidnap me? — But curiosity got the better of you, and you slowly lowered your hand.

Overlord shifted his gaze to you, lazily turning his helm in your direction.

— Kidnap? — His voice was smooth and low. — Darling, I didn't kidnap you. I found you and picked you up — you were just lying around.

— Lying around?! — Your voice cracked. — I was just walking home when you scooped me up and carried me off! That's funny, right? — Indignation washed over you, and this sadist seemed only to be enjoying your reaction.

Tarn narrowed his red optics, watching you through his mask as if recording every reaction. Deathsaurus was watching you too. They were all watching. Analyzing. You felt their gazes on you.

— Where even am I? — Your voice sounded less steady now. You glanced around the room you were in.

— Peaceful Tyranny. — Tarn answered in that same even, calm voice.

— Oh wow, that clears it right up. — You let out a short laugh, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of your lips, and rolled your eyes. — Peaceful Tyranny? What kind of nonsense is that. What do they even want from you?

— Patience. — Deathsaurus paused, hesitating. — ...What should we call you? — Deathsaurus looked at you.

— Oh, great. Now the robot is asking for my name. Wonderful. Why? Have you decided to keep me as a pet?

— Definitely. — Overlord answered with a smirk, lazily crossing his manipulators over his chest and looking at you.

— Awesome... Well, I've got nothing to lose... y/n.

— Cute. — The phasesixer chuckled, not taking his optics off you.

A couple of seconds passed, and your patience began to demand an answer.

— So are you going to introduce yourselves or not?

— Oh, right — where are my manners? I'm Overlord. — Overlord introduced himself first, pressing a manipulator to his chest. — This is Deathsaurus. — Overlord pointed with his index finger at the bot leaning his back against the wall, then shifted his finger to the bot in the purple mask. — And this is Tarn. I hope you've memorized our names and won't get them mixed up. — Overlord's voice was mocking.

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I decided to write a chapter from Froid's point of view

***

And what am I supposed to do with this? — Froid stood with his manipulators crossed over his chest plate, eyeing you with half-lidded yellow optics, trying to figure out why you were needed. The opportunity to see a human had fallen into his hands, and he wasn't about to sit idly by — after all, the psychologist always sought to extract benefit.

— The human race... — Froid spoke with a certain weariness born of incomprehension and disdain. — And why do the Autobots keep you on the Ark? You're useless and have absolutely no useful functions. — The psychologist made a sound resembling a human sigh, if you could even call it that. He uncrossed his manipulators and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

— Perhaps you should be given to Sunder to test how he would react to a human... Yes, exactly. — Froid's voice became more animated. He snapped his fingers with a metallic clang, as if an interesting idea had just come to his mind. — Provided, of course, that the human doesn't turn out to be too fragile for the strain Sunder's abilities are capable of inflicting. — Froid fell into thought. He knew the mnemosurgeon possessed such power that the strain would be too great even for cybertronians, let alone a human — but curiosity itched in Froid's spark to test his thought.

Froid sat down in the chair, making the furniture creak, crossed one servo over the other, and brought the tips of his fingers together, looking at you.

— We don't have much time, considering it hasn't been that long since you arrived here, which means the Autobots will already be looking for you. — Froid mused with a hum. He didn't want to go looking for Sunder again. His work irritated him, but more than that, he hated the feeling of fear that was always with him whenever he was near the mnemosurgeon — but he would never admit it, not even to himself. To himself, first and foremost. Froid held the cage key in his hand, tapping it rhythmically against the table. A habit, when he was thinking.

Froid quickly grabbed the fabric from the table and threw it over your cage, covering you, then rose from the chair with a clang. Just then, his communication system beeped.

— Froid here.

Froid held the key in his hand and, without much thought, dropped it onto the shelf without even closing it.

— Sunder... He what? Coming.

Froid left, leaving you behind. You heard his voice in fragments before his footsteps faded away..

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C.5

—𝑶𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒖𝒑.— Sunder demanded, his patience running thin, though he knew those words wouldn't change anything. He gave the hand holding you a little shake, as if that might help, but his fingers kept their grip on you, keeping you from falling.

— I'm hungry. — Sunder squeezed your fragile body and began to shake you. You instinctively hooked your fingers over the outer edge of his palm to keep from falling. He was hungry for memories. He was tired of going around in circles. His patience was nearly at its end.

You were terrified that his hand would suddenly clench and your muscles, your bones, would burst and shatter if he tightened his grip even just a little more.

You dug your fingers harder into the segments of his hand.

He noticed it immediately. He froze, lowering a curious gaze to your fingers. He knew that tension. Fear. He could see it. He could see how the skin stretched tight over your knuckles had turned white from the strain. So cybertronians weren't all that different from humans after all.

— So you are afraid. — He pronounced triumphantly, confirming his own guess. His grip loosened slightly — it relaxed him, the fact that there was something in you after all.

— No, I'm not afraid of you. — A lie. He could see that too.

He suddenly leaned in closer and tilted his head, pressing his nose to the skin of your neck. You felt the metal of his nose rest against your skin, barely touching it.

— Your hormones say otherwise. — Sunder was clever, and it took him very little time to study objects and adapt to new organisms, understanding their structure.

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C.4 Key.

Sunder rose with the same heavy clang, straightening his servos, and walked unhurriedly to the nearest table — something shiny and metallic had caught his optic. He spotted a key in an open locker from the edge of his vision and reached out, grasping it with his fingers, and brought it closer to his face, examining it.

Froid, most likely, hadn't had time to hide it before his not-so-fortunate fate caught up with him, cutting short a plan that had never even begun. Sunder even chuckled to himself: the psychologist had been so overloaded that he'd forgotten about such a tiny detail, despite being meticulous in everything — and such a blunder had been fatal to his reputation.

— I believe this is it? — Sunder asked. He knew it was the one. He simply enjoyed watching the way your expression changed when he asked questions. Though, he didn't yet know what to call it. Human anatomy was... different from cybertronian, after all. More alive? More flexible?

The mnemosurgeon walked back over and lowered himself to the floor again, grabbing the cage and tipping it onto his lap, digging the fingers of one hand into it to hold it steady as he tried to insert the key. You fell, slamming against the bars of the cage from the sudden shift in position. A sharp pain from the cold, hard material shot through your entire body from your ribs, making them ache — but you immediately forgot about the pain, remembering a much bigger problem.

Your body broke out in a cold sweat beneath your clothes from fear. What would happen if he got to you?

You didn't even have time to think — a clang of metal against metal rang out as the teeth of the key slid into the grooves of the lock, and the cage door swung open with a long, nasty creak. You didn't even have time to recover before a metallic, rust-colored hand tightly wrapped around you, pulling you out and bringing you up to his face.

— Little creature. — Sunder inhaled your scent. He had finally gotten you out. It was a reward for his systems. He had enjoyed the process itself, too. — You smell... different. — Sunder sensed a certain smell, but he couldn't name it.

Sunder sniffed. There was no scent of ozone, emotions, or memories on you, as he was used to sensing.

— Don't you feel anything at all? — Sunder made an assumption: if there was no smell, then the creature felt nothing. After all, one way or another, an organism gives off emotions through scents. — But I feel something in your body beating against my palm.

It was a heartbeat. Though, he didn't know that — he simply felt a faint pulsation in your body against his palm.

— Heart. — You answered. You were irritated by his ignorance of human anatomy. He was a surgeon, after all — how could he not know simple words?

— Heart? — He repeated, as if trying to locate the word in his database. — I've heard it's an important organ. Perhaps your memories are stored there? — Sunder's gaze swept over you as if scanning. — You do feel something, don't you? Why are you... shivering?