#Mine was Transformers: Cybertron | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

icecream4starscream · 6 months ago

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Spoiler Warning for Transformers One. Please go see the film, it's great.

Something occurred to me when rewatching Elita-1's firing scene:

Right off the bat, she's presented as an absolute unit in the mines. We see her being a very by-the-book character. She's incredibly competent, strong, serious, focused, and an effective leader.

Maybe a little too effective.

We learn that Sentinel goes out of his way to personally take care of any "anomalies" in his system and does so in a way where the blame always gets shifted away from him.

It's why he personally went to see Pax and D-16 after the Iacon 5000 race. He makes himself out to be the open-minded, compassionate leader he's been parading as.

When Darkwing throws Orion and D-16 into sub-level 50, neither bot suspects Sentinel for their demotion. In fact, they beg Darkwing to talk to Sentinel so he can sort out the "misunderstanding".

It's later confirmed that Sentinel never had any intention of talking with Orion or D-16 after their first meeting. When Orion reunites with his fellow miners later in the film, they mention that Sentinel put out a statement saying that they both died from "racing injuries".

Sentinel might've not even openly ordered Darkwing to dispose of them. Darkwing might've been manipulated into thinking everyone was mocking him for losing the race (thanks to lowly miners) making him want to get rid of them.

Subconsciously manipulating someone like Darkwing would've been easy for Sentinel.

Sentinel clearly does not tolerate anyone rising above the station he imposes on them.

So what does this have to do with Elita-1 being fired?

We see her rigidly following the rules, meeting all quotas, running a tight and efficient crew. She's doing her job as a miner, a role unknowingly forced upon her by Sentinel, perfectly.

Shouldn't Sentinel be happy about that?

Well sure...

If Elita wasn't actively trying to get promoted.

We don't get a lot of information about how promotion works in TFOne's mining system, but we do know that in other iterations of pre-war Cybertron, one of the only ways miners could rise out of the mines was by participating in ridiculously difficult gladiatorial fights in Kaon's pits.

In other iterations, this was how D-16/Megatron was able to escape his station and how he grew to be so strong.

So basically, whatever version you look at, the miners are told "if you work really, reeeeally hard, and do your job perfectly, and don't die in the process (which, odds are, you will) you might, MIGHT get a chance to get out of the caste you were born into."

It's BS.

It's an impossible feat. No one is actually supposed to be able to achieve that goal, but it's the metaphorical carrot dangling in front of the work mules so they don't notice the ever-tightening rope around their necks.

But every so often there's someone extraordinary, like Elita, who actually manages to meet this impossible standard and with whom it becomes increasingly difficult to deny this coveted promotion.

So what can Sentinel do about bots like Elita-1?

Simple.

Wait for a screw-up.

It must happen eventually.

A member of Elita's team, Orion Pax, in clear violation of evacuation protocol, goes back into the mines to save Jazz from getting crushed to death.

Despite managing to escape, the closing mine causes a tunnel support to be flung into nearby machinery (which doesn't look critical and could probably be easily fixed).

Then, right the heck outta nowhere, Darkwing drops in, SECONDS AFTER THE INCIDENT JUST HAPPENED, and immediately fires Elita.

No "What happened?" or "Who's responsible?" or "The supervisor wants to see you", he just pops into the scene and demotes Elita, arguably one of the best workers in the mine, to a bottom-tier waste management position.

As if he'd been on standby, actively waiting for a reason to fire her.

"But Elita herself wasn't the one who screwed up!"

Doesn't matter.

"But she told them to follow protocol!"

Doesn't matter.

"But Orion admitted he was the one at fault!"

Doesn't matter.

"But a bot was saved! Jazz would've died!"

Does. Not. MATTER.

Her firing is presented as the typical "one character says thing won't happen then thing immediately happens" joke, but given how so much thought went into so much of TFOne's background details, I can't help but wonder if this was a hint to how broken the system was and how it was always rigged in a way that ensures the miners will never get out.

Not to mention, once Orion, D-16, and Jazz safely escape, she chews Orion out by saying, "If I get fired for this..." meaning this abrupt, out-of-nowhere, baseless firing is absolutely typical.

That's what makes Elita's "I'm better than you" speech to Orion that much more meaningful, because in many ways, she is better than him.

She's a better worker, better fighter, better at completing the task at hand, better at making sure things run smoothly. She is, ironically enough, an efficient and perfectly-running machine.

But had Orion not dragged Elita to the surface, she probably would've spent her whole life obediently following the rules, never questioning why things were the way they were. She was so focused on rising up within the system that she could never look beyond it.

Elita might be the cog by which other cogs turn.

But Orion is the spark that shows them a better way.

That's why he was given the Matrix.

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i-starcreamed · 9 months ago

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Can you write something with D16 and a human reader please? Maybe like seeing a human for the first time and befriending eachother, then the reader develops feelings because I mean....D16 XD (There is literally nothing of transformers one 😭) PS. I don't know why but I feel like transformers one character at least the miners are closer to human height for some reason 🤣 (sorry for yapping I'm obsessed)

D-16 X READER

Ok so…very unrealistic because yknow, no humans on cybertron. However I made up my own scenario :3 in my mind humans reach about to the knees of mine bots. You’ll make it work..

Human! Reader

Dumb fluff, no sad stuff

Reader is a space explorer who SOMEHOW MAGICALLY managed to successfully land on Cybertron with some of their survival kit intact (food, water, etc). What they didn’t expect was to encounter a train looking vehicle, hopping in it out of curiosity. What they also never expected was the train to start moving at full speed, charging inside of the planet as the crust literally opened up.

Your throat almost went sore because of your screaming.

You shifted, groaning as you sat up from your laying position. God, your head was pounding, what even happened? The ground beneath you was cold and rough, like the texture of popcorn wall if it were made of metal. Around you, you could hear the sound of wheels screeching, metal banging. Whatever you were on was not a smooth ride.

You opened your eyes, your breath hitched as you saw a figure above you. They were looking straight forward, both their hands placed on the edge of the cart. And they were not human. No human is that big.

You swiveled your head around you, seeing a pile of large rocks surrounding you. They were glowing a bright blue, looking quite radioactive. Okay, maybe you and your team expected a tiny bit of life here—but not a whole…whatever this was. You slowly stood up, carefully making your way towards the rock nearest to you. You struggled to move, all the rocks were basically covering your body. The rocks rolled over softly as you lifted an arm.

“Hey there,”

You froze, hearing a deep voice above you. You turned around, eyeing the figure still looking away from you. They looked to their side, mimicking the human expression of curtly smiling and nodding to someone to their right. You sighed in relief.

Placing both your palms on the edge of the cart, you pulled yourself up, letting the rocks fall away from your legs. You peeled your head over the cart, your eyes widening at the life around you. Sooo many robot beings walking around and pushing minecarts, all in different colors and similar size. You let out a small gasp.

D-16 raised a brow, hearing a noise just below him. He did a double take as he saw..something poking out of his cart. He froze. You froze. You both frozed.

“AHH!” You both yelled at the same time, backing away from eachother.

You fall back in between the rocks, probably scraping your back against one. Simotaniously, he bumped into someone’s cart in back of him, he muttered an awkward apology as he hurried along with his cart—he couldn’t let anyone else see this…thing.

He rushed over, taking a sharp turn and away from everyone doing their jobs.

When he stopped, he leaned over his cart to take a good look at you.

“Okay…what! What are you?” He whispered yelled, honestly feeling a bit defensive. You couldn’t blame him, he’s never seen a species like you. Sure, you were smaller. You were about the size of his leg..definitely shorter.

“I uh..I could ask the same thing…” you nervously said.

When you two first met you were very cautious of eachother. You were both scared. I think it took him a while to realize you were from a wholeee different planet. You were a space explorer? That’s cool! He’s definitely going to ask you about cybertrons surface, even though you insist you only saw it for a couple minutes before being kidnapped by a train.

He becomes so interested in you. Eventually, you OF COURSE get introduced to Orion. He had the same reaction, but was equally as intrigued. We all know how much he loves history and learning, they’re both gonna ask so many questions. They do everything to keep you hidden away from other bots, ESPECIALLY DarkWing. Orion has never seen D-16 as enthusiastic about someone as he is about you. (Maybe except for Megatronious)

The three of you are almost always together, but you definitely spend more time with D. Instead of getting rest after a long day in the mines, he takes you around with you sitting atop his shoulder—just talking. Whenever he hears a bot approaching, he quickly snatches you off and holds you behind his back. Definitely not obvious.

Rest in piece to privacy, because you both have NONE! We saw how none of the miners have individual sleeping areas. You have to constantly sneak away—usually it’s places where Orion has taken him. Imagine being taken to their special places :((

You spend longer than you thought on Cybertron, it’s not like you had a choice. Your pod was left on the surface and most definitely scrapped for materials. No one knows who or what and where the mysterious person from the pod is. Lucky you

It’s only logical you begin to fall for D-16. He’s oddly charming, funny, dedicated, and caring. You spend all your time together. He introduced you to his best friend. He tells you about all his plans. Plus, it’s always exciting to go on little trips together, potentially risking getting caught. These trips eventually turn into dates btw

He has definitely called you cute and pet your head with one digit. Yeah that kinda did it, even though he meant it as a tease

You know that scene where the two went racing? They were in first place, they’re exhausted and D got hit. Despite this he grins, looking back at the cameras which he knows are streaming the race. He knows you’re watching all the way from that green light.

“This is for Y/—!!“ he begins, only to be interrupted when a jet zooms past them, knocking them both over and sending them flying. Idiots <3

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #transformers one #tf one #tf one spoilers #tf one x reader #d 16 #d16 x reader #megatron #megatron x reader #human reader #gn reader

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muletia · 4 months ago

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-`♡´- 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐮𝐬

orion pax x human!reader x d-16 and a sprinkle of platonic x elita <3 pocket spouse au

summary: finally, the time has come to meet your spouse! after joining the Pocket Spouse Program — an Earth-Cybertron friendship pact allowing humans to become partners to bots who wish to have their very own human to love, cherish, and treat as their soft, squishy spouses — you’ve been waiting for so long for your turn to come. and as it turns out, this long-awaited day is full of pleasant surprises <3

cw: fluff, canon divergence because tfo takes place bazilion years before humans, a little bit of jealousy and obsessive thoughts, possessiveness, implied polyamory, implied nsfw thoughts (nothing explicit thought)

word count: 3900

shot out to all the anons and non-anons who gave me a lot of great ideas for this au <3

Armed with a travel bag filled with the most useful items and a backpack stuffed with supplies, you stand before the capsule-shaped elevator. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before stepping into the tight, enclosed space, and enter, sealing your fate. The doors close behind you, and without giving you even a second to prepare, the elevator descends rapidly, taking you towards your new life but not granting enough time to fully shake off the old one.

Not that there was much to shake off, considering you had willingly made the decision to join the Pocket Spouse program. Nothing was holding you on Earth, least of all luck, so you decided to seek it elsewhere. And as it happened, you chose to start your search on a planet inhabited by sentient, enormous, transforming robots who, apparently, had quite the fascination with humans. An extreme new beginning, but after hearing only good things about the living conditions and the way humans were treated with care, you figured — why not, if it meant living in luxury?

Of course, you had considered various scenarios in case the rumors turned out to be a sham. You could end up with anyone. A fetishist, a collector of exotic pets, a hoarder of toys. That was the unknown, stressful factor that the speed of the elevator gave you no chance to tame. The decision of which robotic spouse you would be assigned to also did not belong to you, so all you could do was hope for a stroke of luck that you’d end up with someone normal.

You don’t even have time to take another deep, reassuring breath when the capsule comes to a sharp stop, and almost immediately its sliding doors open.

You’re greeted by a metallic face with distinctly feminine features. Beautiful in its strange, alien way, but also serious. One look is enough to tell you that you’re dealing with a bot who is strict and has no tolerance for nonsense, but your first impression naturally shifts when your eyes and her optics meet. Her metal face softens almost instantly, easing your stress just enough for you to regain feeling in your legs. You step out toward the bot, onto a small platform designed specifically for a species of your size, and with each step, the bot seems to grow to an unsettlingly immense scale.

The room is small — or at least it seems that way as you try to translate its dimensions into the standards of the giants who inhabit this planet — and carelessly sterile in dark gray tones. There’s no doubt it was put together in a rush, without much thought, simply to exist and serve its function. Its barrenness is unsettling. So much for a luxurious life of doing nothing?

The bot straightens and pulls a datapad closer as she finally speaks. “[Name] [Last Name], I presume?” You still can’t get over how easily the metal of her face bends and flexes when needed, as if it were made of rubber.

“Exactly.”

She nods her helm. “My name is Elita One. I am the head of this mining sector, and I also hold responsibility for every pocket spouse assigned here. And unless there is a change in management, you answer to me, you listen to me, and you bring all future requests or orders to me.”

Oh. So you got assigned to the working class. Fine, you’ll adjust as soon as you get proper living conditions. “Alright.” The lack of warmth in her demeanor discourages you from wanting to engage in any future interactions, but if she’s your only lifeline to protection from potential mistreatment, you’ll treat her words as gospel. “Nice to meet you.” You smile and extend a hand toward her. She stares at you hesitantly for a moment before finally reaching out a single digit to complete the greeting.

“Likewise.”

Elita doesn’t withdraw her servo, though; instead, she straightens it and clasps her digits together, gesturing for you to climb onto her palm. “For safety.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You accept the invitation, though a red flag starts waving in your mind. You don’t remain on her servo for long, as Elita smoothly and carefully transfers you onto her shoulder.

“I advise you to be careful,” she warns. “Miners rarely interact with pocket spouses, so they might try to touch you or snatch you up in their servos. Do not try to stand, do not lean over, and above all, do not excite them. A simple wave of your hand is enough to send them into a frenzy. Understood?”

Alright, now the stress is back. You hadn’t expected such strong reactions towards humans, especially since this trend od getting pocket spouses was no longer new. “Wait. I thought pocket spouses were already a well-established concept on your planet.”

“Not in these parts,” she sighs. “On the surface, the sight of humans may not cause much of a stir, but things are different down here. For us miners, pocket spouses are a rarity. Only the best can afford them.”

Oh, so even among a highly advanced race of sentient robots, there was still a harmful caste system in place. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you stammer, because what else is there to say in this situation? When she shoots you a sour glance, you decide to change the subject, hoping to save your image from seeming callous and naïve. You clear your throat. “So, I assume you already have your own pocket spouse?”

She gives you a pointed side-eye. She saw right through your plan.

“Of course, I do. Do I need to repeat myself about being careful, or is everything clear?”

“Clear as day.” You don’t need to see her faceplate to know that this human phrase is unfamiliar to her. Feeling her impatient side-eye on you, you awkwardly correct yourself, “Yes.”

“Good. If you have anything else you’d like to know, now is the time to ask. I assure you, you won’t have time later.”

“My spouse. What are they like?”

“Spouses,” she corrects nonchalantly, not even looking up from her datapad, throwing you completely off.

“Spouses? Do I get one for free?”

Elita does not appreciate your attempt at humor. She sends you a sharp look.

“In a manner of speaking. Officially, a pocket spouse is assigned to a single bot, but there are cases of sharing. Or, if by some miracle, a human ends up with a conjunx. But I haven’t heard of such cases.”

Conjunx? That’s a new word, and it means absolutely nothing to you, but you decide to store it in your memory for later, too distracted by the fact that you’ve been assigned to a pair.

“Okay, I definitely wasn’t expecting that.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“No. I think? I don’t know yet, you caught me off guard.” You take a deep breath. You’ll manage. Somehow. “So, my spouses. What are they like?”

Elita’s expression darkens, and that, in turn, unsettles you. That couldn’t be a good sign.

“What is it? Did I get assigned to some creeps?”

“Worse,” she huffs. “D-16 is a decent mech and an exemplary miner, and officially, he is your spouse. But Orion —” she grips the datapad tighter as if restraining herself from an outburst “—Orion is the most foolish, irresponsible, and reckless bot on all of Cybertron. And if you think I’m exaggerating, you’re gravely mistaken. He attracts trouble like a magnet and throws himself into it because he is incorrigible. I almost pity you, really, because you couldn’t have gotten a worse match. Even Darkwing would have been a better spouse.”

But… as if fighting her own thoughts, she adds, “For all their recklessness… they worked very hard to have you, and I know they will treat you well. Perhaps clumsily at first, but well. That doesn’t change the fact that Orion has an empty canister instead of a processor, so if he does something idiotic, and he will, you are to report it to me immediately.”

Galncing at the datapad, she adds "Do you want to know anything else? We don't have much time for idle chatter."

"Just one thing. You mentioned that there's already a human in this sector. Can you arrange for us to meet sometime soon? It’d be nice to have occasional contact with someone like me."

"We'll see what can be done," she replies warily, clearly displeased with the idea. Her answer makes it obvious that there's a high chance you’ll be left hanging rather than meeting your fellow human, but you’re not giving up that easily.

"Thanks," you say. Out of politeness, feeling an even stronger urge to stay on her good side.

"Shall we begin?"

You take a deep breath. You’re doing this. You’re meeting your extraterrestrial partners, cementing your future on this planet. Your hesitation lasts only a moment — just a brief weighing of pros and cons, an instant of fighting the urge to turn around and run back to the elevator. Less than a second is all it takes for you to give your answer.

"Yes, I want to meet them."

"Be careful," she warns sharply, one last time. "I've worked too hard for this job to lose it now because of human irresponsibility."

Elita takes a step forward, and you have to grab onto her helm to keep your balance, but thankfully, an exaggerated optic-roll is her only reaction to the excess contact. The next steps aren’t as shocking; by the third, you’ve adjusted to the rhythm of the giant leading you to a set of sliding doors, which she opens with a button on the side.

Your pocket spouses certainly know how to make… an intriguing first impression.

Caught off guard by the sudden opening of the doors, they literally tumble into the room and land on the floor, shooting you a lightning-fast glance before scrambling to their pedes at record speed, straightening up as if nothing happened. Their excited grins grow quickly and they’re clearly contagious, because you feel your own lips curling into a smile.

They look masculine and young, as much as you can say that about beings whose tissues don’t age. What grabs your attention most is the bot with yellow optics. You haven’t seen such a unique color among their kind before. Maybe you haven’t met many bots yet, but you could swear most had blue optics. Interesting... You make a mental note to compliment those bright, captivating optics later.

Your gazes meet, and the mech with the unusual, beautiful optics parts his lips slightly. You get the feeling he wants to say something, but excitement completely paralyzes him.

"Well, that was a stunning performance. Was eavesdropping worth it?"

"Ahem, no... we weren't eavesdropping," Orion defends himself, though his gaze remains fixed on you.

"Forgive us, Elita, you just caught us off guard when you opened the door so suddenly," D-16 adds, having suddenly regained control over his body.

They step closer, as if hypnotized, drawn to minimizing the distance, but Elita halts them with an outstretched arm. They stop, but their lovestruck expressions make it clear that their minds are already revolving solely around you.

"Ugh, pull yourselves together," Elita scolds. "You won’t lay so much as a digit on your pocket spouse until you’ve listened to the protocol, so focus."

"Mhm, yeah, yeah."

"Now do you understand what I was talking about earlier?" she directs at you. "I wish you Primus' patience with these two airheads."

"Oh, come on, they’re quite charming," you remark — but it turns out to be unnecessary, as the eruption of joy at hearing your voice is nearly impossible for even Elita to suppress.

Both of them surge forward, their excited cheers and cooing echoing through the empty room, bombarding you with loud adoration.

"Didn’t I just say something about getting them worked up?!" Elita hisses at you, but the sharp tone doesn’t sit well with your partners, their expressions suddenly sober as they feel the instinct to stand in your defense.

"Elita, leave them alone," Orion intervenes. "They’ve done nothing wrong."

"I knew this would happen," Elita sighs. "Enough. Let me recite the protocol so we can all go our separate ways, because I don’t have time to babysit all of you."

She looks at the two mechs before her to make sure they’re listening, but it quickly becomes evident they have no intention of cooperating today.

"Primus, focus! Do you think I have time to waste? Unlike you, empty cans, I have a ton of work to do and I'd like to finish it before my shift starts."

Still seeing their dazed, absentminded expressions, Elita decides to escalate.

"Do I have to take your pocket spouse away for you to finally pay attention?"

Orion snaps out of his trance first, alarmed at the idea of you being taken away.

"What? No, no! We’re listening now, boss."

"Next time, there won’t be a verbal warning. I’ll smack you both on the helms, and that’ll be the end of your pocket spouse respecting you."

Of course, a reprimanding servo-to-helm contact was unavoidable when it became clear they were drifting off again. But after the protocol was recited, a datapad signed, and you were informed that regular supplies of human fuel and clothing would be delivered to you, the long-awaited moment of your "eviction" from Elita’s shoulder finally arrived.

She steps closer to the two bots, who extend their servos with interlaced small digits toward you so you can transfer safely. Grabbing your bag, you carefully step from her shoulder onto their servo, at last entering physical contact with your spouses.

"You have a few clicks of free time before your shift starts," Elita informs them. "And if you’re even a nanoklik late, I swear you’ll be pulling overtime."

She gives you one last soft, almost sympathetic look, so out of place with her previous authoritative tone before leaving, closing the door behind her.

Two pairs of optics focus on you.

You gaze into them, sinking into the moment, finally understanding what Elita meant about their fascination with humans. Because looking into their dazzling optics, brimming with excitement and adoration, you find yourself experiencing that same fascination with their alien race, even though you’ve met other bots before.

You can truly call yourself a pocket spouse now, completely leaving your past life behind. And you sincerely hope this one will be better. That Orion and D-16 will make it so, though you have no guarantee.

"Hello," you say warmly.

"Hi," they reply almost simultaneously.

D-16 can’t hold back any longer. He extends his servo toward you, eager to finally acquaint himself with the texture of your body, but he hesitates the moment he feels you shiver ever so slightly, struck by your fear.

"Ah, I’m sorry, don’t be afraid," he says.

A bad start. A very bad start. He worries he’s already tainted your budding relationship, that his reckless excitement has scared you enough that you won’t give him a chance to open up. But you quickly soothe his fears.

"It’s okay, really. You can touch me if you want."

Their youthful, boyish excitement returns, softening their handsome metal faces — and your heart along with them.

"Just be careful," you remind them. "Humans are quite prone to accidental squishing."

"We’ll remember," D-16 promises. "We’d never hurt you. Right, Orion?"

"Of course. You’ll be completely safe with us."

"Alright, I believe you." Not entirely. You want to believe them. But if what Elita said was true, then they would stay true to their word if they worked so hard to be assigned a human. Only fools would deliberately destroy the fruits of their labor. "So? Do you want to touch your pocket spouse?"

Your pocket spouse. Your. Theirs. Theirs and only theirs.

It’s a dangerous thought for a miner, because the concept of ownership had been limited to just a recharge station and the locker next to it. Everything else was shared. Shared washracks, shared habsuites, shared berths for resting. There was no room for theirs.

But you were theirs. Truly, undeniably, and tangibly theirs. Only theirs. And they wanted it to stay that way. Theirs to touch, theirs to give attention to, theirs to talk to and compliment. Not for Jazz, not for Wheeljack, not for Sideswipe, and no longer for Elita. Theirs. It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time because you were burdening them with responsibilities they had never known before. Theirs. They couldn’t rely on anyone else anymore.

They exchange a brief, knowing glance. Theirs. They cannot ruin this. They cannot make mistakes. You have to like them, just as they instantly fell in love with you, and see them as good spouse material. They will show you that they can take care of you. Their pocket spouse. Theirs. Only theirs.

"What’s wrong? You don’t want to?" you ask teasingly, snapping them out of the traps of their own thoughts.

"Oh, Primus, of course we do. Very much. You have no idea how much," Orion confesses.

They were both brave, but it’s Orion who makes the first move. His servo finds your back, pressing against it with a single digit. Soft. Oh, so soft.

Once, he asked Elita what her pocket spouse felt like, and that was the answer he got. He didn’t understand it then. What was softness? What kind of sensation was it? What could he compare it to? But now… now he knew that softness was you, and you were softness. And if he could, he would never let you go.

"Wow, incredible. D, this is incredible, unlike anything else. You’re�� extraordinary!"

He gently strokes your back, and you allow yourself to wrap your hand around his massive metal finger, which Orion welcomes with a beaming, delighted smile. How was it possible that your servo was even softer? Or maybe somewhere else, you were even softer still. He’d heard that humans and Cybertronians were compatible, and though he knows it’s not exactly proper to let his mind drift into impure, carnal territories so early in the relationship, cannot stop himself from dreaming of drowning in your softness. Wants to be surrounded by it. Wants to be suffocated by it. Wants to feel it after every shift, wake up in it and recharge.

Impatient with his partner’s sluggishness and selfishness, D-16 clicks his glossa.

"Move your digit, Pax, it’s my turn now."

It takes Orion a few nanokliks to pull himself away from his indecent thoughts. He doesn’t want to let you go, doesn’t want to be more than a few centimeters away from you ever again, but he knows D will smack him on the still-fresh sore spot left by Elita on his helm if he doesn’t pull his servo back. So he does. And immediately, he is consumed by an overwhelming sense of loneliness and emptiness, as if his life has suddenly become incomplete. He already wants to come back to you.

D-16’s reaction is similar. Awe at the new but pleasant texture manifests in his slightly parted intake and quick strokes across your back, searching for and discovering softness. Where your hand meets his digit, an incomparable warmth spreads, giving him a sense of completeness. You, him, and Orion. Three puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly, finally reunited after years of separation.

"I’m glad you like me," you laugh. "That’s a good start, huh?"

"It was good the moment we saw you," Orion says. "Really, we couldn’t have imagined a better pocket spouse."

"You’re too kind," you reply. You know they’re speaking from excitement, their minds weaving intricate visions and fantasies about life with a pocket spouse — visions that might not be so rosy in reality — but you don’t want to ruin it for them. Especially since you want to find a good life here, too. You want to be happy, regardless of the expectations they unknowingly place upon you. If they want to play house, you’ll join them. If they have a human fetish, you’ll indulge them in that too. "I think we’ll be happy together, won’t we? I’d like that."

"We will, for sure!" Orion assures enthusiastically.

"We know we’re just lousy miners, and you won’t have any luxuries," D-16 adds, earning a sharp elbow to the side from Orion. "I wasn’t finished, Pax." He elbows him back. "But we’ll do our best to make sure you have a good life with us. We’ll do everything for you. We’ll get… almost anything, but if you need something from the city, just say the word! Orion or I will get you food, clothes, whatever you need."

"Thanks, you’re sweet," you say, touched by their words. "I know I can’t do much, but maybe I can repay you somehow?"

"Just having you here is enough for now," D-16 says, smiling softly, enchanted by your question.

"Will you touch us again?" Orion asks, only to immediately receive a frustrated elbow. "What? They asked first."

D-16 pinches the bridge of his nose, unable to believe his partner’s tactlessness. Orion’s talent for making things worse had to affect you, it just had to. Just like every fragging time, it would fall on his shoulders to get them out of trouble, and in this case, to make sure you saw them as normal and worthy of being your spouses. They cannot mess this up. At any cost.

Which is why D is surprised when he hears your soft laughter. He lifts his servo from his faceplate and looks at you hopefully. So their relationship wasn’t ruined by Orion’s loose vocalizer?

"Of course. Come closer," you say, encouraging them further by crooking a finger.

Two massive faceplates move toward you simultaneously until they finally touch. They’re so close that you can stroke their cheeks, and so you do, slowly running your fingers over warm, living metal, drowning in their proximity. Orion and D-16 press into your hands, leaning into the comforting, though foreign, softness — now only theirs. Not for perching on Elita’s shoulder anymore. For them. Theirs to be petted, theirs to be embraced.

They could spend a lifetime in this room if it meant constant cheek-stroking and being spoiled by you. Oh, how they couldn’t wait for your shared life. Waking up with you. Coming back to their recharge stations after a hard day’s work, knowing someone was waiting for them. Spending time together. Telling you about Megatronus and Sentinel, showing off their merch, sharing every detail of their lives, and begging you to tell them about yours. About your planet, your interests, your human life — so they could make your life here as good as possible, desperately vying for your affection.

You will like them. You must. Because they already adored you, unconditionally devoted to their beloved pocket spouse. Theirs.

Relaxed and overwhelmed with contentment, they let their engines hum louder.

"Oh? You like this that much?" you ask, totaly not planning to exploit the bots’ ability to purr purely for your own selfish pleasure.

"Very much," Orion rumbles.

"You’re the best," D-16 adds.

For a moment, they open their optics, their gaze focused on you. And the trust flickering within them, the fervor of emotions burning away reason convinces you that you chose well by deciding to become a pocket spouse.

#transformers x reader #transformers one x reader #orion pax x reader #d 16 x reader #pocket spouse au

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quibble-auk · 4 months ago

Text

@thebrokenmechanicalpencil

Am I allowed to offically start the intergalactic pen pals series? Can that be what this is? Please I’m begging you I’ve been thinking about this since we talked about it and it’s been driving the worms crazy… mainly because I never actually thought about them going to earth.

Jeopardy and his not-dad arrive on earth.

—

Jeopardy couldn’t help but eagerly look out the shuttle window as they approached the strange blue and green planet. His thoughts buzzing with excitement of getting to set foot on the world, of getting to see the friend that he found himself missing so often again. It was strange to think they had been apart for so long.

He looked over at Dropmix, who sat quietly to the side, watching Jeopardy with a blank expression. The younger smiled brightly, gently kicking the other.

“Oh, come on, you’ve gotta admit it’s a little exciting!” Jeopardy teased. Dropmix had barely wanted to come along on the trip. With peace negotiations in order he finally deemed it safe enough for them to visit. But the only reason he claimed to come along was to keep an eye out on Jeopardy and check in with Comet to see how his eye was doing. Other than that he seemed completely repulsed at the idea. He had been grumpy for the entire trip so far.

Dropmix looked out the window and shook his head once, “No, not really.”

Jeopardy frowned, pouting a bit at the other, head tilting in a more childish display. Though his genuine confusion shone through, “It’s your first time off world! How could you not be excited?”

The dark mech sighed, shaking his head as he huffed. He already seemed tired of his younger companion’s antics, which was fair—Jeopardy had been practically bouncing off the walls since they boarded the shuttle… and that was a few weeks ago. “It’s your first time off world,”

He corrected it plainly. Dropmix looked around then at the empty seat next to him, his eyes narrowed, “Sit down, we're going to be landing soon.”

The young medic rolled his eyes as he complied, finally moving to sit in the seat next to Dropmix, “And when have you been off world?”

“When I was younger,” the elder responded dryly, eyeing Jeopardy.

The mech shot him a glare, “Real specific,” he muttered as Dropmix smiled to himself. Eventually, after Jeopardy pouted enough, the mech gave in,

“There was a diplomatic meeting between Cybertron’s leaders and another race. I don’t know what about. But they brought a bunch of stuff with them to “share our culture.” obviously they thought bringing a couple gladiators to show off was a good idea,” Dropmix shrugged, looking out the window at the planet that was steadily getting larger, “Turns out I’m not much of a swimmer, didn’t even know it was possible for us to almost drown.”

Jeopardy stared at him wide eyed. How the frag did this man keep all of the most interesting parts of him a secret and drop it at the most random times? It was almost infuriating if it wasn’t so impressive. He opened his mouth, struggling with words for a moment, “I’m sorry, you were brought along to show off?”

Dropmix blinked, looking back at the younger mech, “Yeah, they didn’t want to risk losing the top gladiators so they sent the runner ups.”

The medic stared at him, mouth open in an almost offended expression. He looked at Dropmix, eyeing him up and down, “You were ranked?”

The gladiator looked the other over, brows furrowing and eyes narrowing slightly, “I don’t know if I should be offended by that or not.”

Jeopardy sputtered and laughed, he shook his head as he smiled, “No, no, no! It’s just… Why haven’t you told me?”

The dark mech shrugged, looking nervously out the window before his gaze fell back on the other. His tone was completely neutral, “I’m telling you now?”

“That doesn’t count,” Jeopardy criticized, looking out the window again and the lush planet that approached. A beat of silence settled between them before Jeopardy whipped back around to face Dropmix again, realizing the other half of what he said, “Hold on, did you just say you almost drowned?”

Dropmix peered over his shoulder out the window, “Yeah, they thought it was a good idea to make us compete with some of the other race’s gladiators. I guess water combat was a big thing for them, which… pretty sure they were semi aquatic; so it made sense.”

The younger medic just shook his head. The amount of near death experiences his mentor had was concerning, though expected. It didn’t make it any less jarring though, thinking about how close he had been to never getting the chance to meet the other. Though he’d learned not to dwell on it for his own sake, Dropmix had been quick to agree.

“Huh, seems a little unfair,” Jeopardy commented, the intercoms crackling and informing everyone to prepare for entering the atmosphere. He looked around at the speakers, excitement making his plating quiver ever so slightly.

Dropmix huffed, arm going to rest around Jeopardy’s shoulders casually, “I still won.”

Jeopardy huffed out a gentle laugh, he opened his mouth to retort but closed it again when a small tremor ran through the ship. He looked around at the few other people seated in the room, most keeping to themselves. They seemed unaffected, not reacting. Why weren’t they reacting? The ship shuddered violently. Jeopardy stiffened as the tremors built in waves, growing stronger. The lighting flickered—just for a second.

He hated that.

His nerves spiked again when the shuttle started to gently shake more consistently. His hands twitched, fingers flexing, fidgeting. He looked over at his unbothered companion, “Is it supposed to do that?”

His mentor looked away from a mech he had been eyeing for the past half hour and back at him. It took a moment as he looked at the younger before he pulled Jeopardy a bit closer to him. The large mech nodded as he sighed softly. Dropmix’s voice was firm and deep, grounding “Yeah, it is. We’re fine.”

The shuttle jolted sideways. Jeopardy sucked in a sharp breath.

Dropmix paused, looking at Jeopardy’s anxious expression, the ship's vibrations coursing through them “I can open up a comm with you if you wanna listen to music with me while we wait.”

The younger mech nodded, jumping a bit as the ship rattled again, creaking as it entered orbit. Jeopardy knew what this was, an offer for a distraction, Dropmix knew he was uneasy, likely to start overthinking about how much the shuttle was rattling. Really, it shouldn’t be shaking so much. He couldn’t help but lean into the larger mech as he heard something clang, “Uh… yeah… that would be nice.”

The gladiator nodded and quickly sent an invitation to the other. Jeopardy almost sighed as the familiar melodies filled his world. He had missed having the music to accompany him like it did in the medical bay. It reminded him of home. The soothing sounds calmed him somewhat, though as the air seemed to hiss he couldn’t help but press a little further into Dropmix, “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” Dropmix’s tone was clipped as he leaned back, letting his own posture relax as he looked around the shuttle bay. He looked unbothered, though Jeopardy felt the way he pulled him a bit closer, trying to reassure the other quietly.

The shuttle’s frame let out a low groan, metal shifting under strain. Jeopardy swore he could feel it through his plating. He couldn’t help the way his breath hitched as he looked around. No one else was reacting, were they all unaware of the noises the ship was making? It sounded like it was about to fall apart! Dropmix looked back at him, brows furrowing as he looked at the other.

“Relax, Junior, we’ll be fine,” He reassured, he paused, noticing how little it affected the other’s slow descent into panic. Not even the nickname that Jeopardy despised seemed to have any effect. He tried a different approach, voice gentler, “Did you ever learn any english? I’m pretty sure I saw where you downloaded some files for it before we left.”

The young medic looked around as the ship groaned and huddered again. He managed to glance at Dropmix, Jeopardy blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. “Uh, yeah, I’ve been practicing. Comet said I should be.” He frowned for a moment, eyes narrowing, “You were supposed to learn some too, you… you did look at it right?”

Dropmix looked at him, raising his brows casually as he deadpanned, “No.”

Jeopardy groaned, shaking his head. He looked up at his mentor, exasperated, “Seriously? Did you at least learn the greeting?”

The gladiator blinked, unfazed, “Nope.”

“What! Dropmix!” the younger groaned again, pausing for only a moment when the shuttle shifted again. He sighed, looking at the other with a stern expression, “You know how many other languages?”

The large mech raised a brow, “I don’t see what that has to do with this. And I only know four, which isn’t that many… And two of them are dead now. ”

Jeopardy shook his head, “Yeah, then let's count how many languages you're half fluent in?”

Dropmix shifted, looking around the ship as their descent slowed steadily, the rocking starting to cease. He shrugged casually, looking back down at Jeopardy, “That makes it thirteen, which, once again, ten of them are dead now. Most mechs know a lot of languages.”

The younger mech rolled their eyes dramatically. “Yeah, then the war happened and everyone forgot them again. Why did you not look at the guide?”

The large gladiator huffed, adjusting his joints slightly as he looked around dismissively again, “Don’t exactly plan on making this trip that often, and it's not like we’re supposed to be talking to the natives that much either.”

Jeopardy sighed, shoulders sagging a bit as the intercom crackled again. They had finally landed and were preparing to unload. His spark skipped a beat as everyone started shifting and moved, getting ready to leave. He looked at Dropmix, smiling. He decided to ignore the elder’s comment “Hey! We’re here!”

The gladiator smiled fondly as he moved his arm from around Jeopardy and grunted as he slowly got up, bracing his hands against his knees for leverage. Jeopardy could hear the way his armor creaked slightly, plating stiff underneath it, his joints groaning under the strain. The medic frowned as he stood up himself, looking over the other. Sometimes he forgot how old the dark mech was, how much more life he had lived compared to others.

Dropmix caught his gaze, a fond smile growing as he nudged the medic a bit, “Come on, Jeo, lets go get our stuff.”

Jeopardy nodded and smiled, walking alongside the larger mech as they retrieved their luggage. Nothing too much, the young medic brought some datapads with him, some extra supplies and a few small gifts for his friend. Dropmix carried a bit more, a lot more medical equipment stashed away for when he would be inspecting Comet. He knew that Ratchet would take good care of him, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Again Jeopardy noticed how the other’s body seemed to groan in protest to the strain. He would definitely be looking into that in the future. He knew gladiators weren’t built the same way as most mechs, their frames supporting a body built with actual muscle structures in mind. They were based on organic design more than other builds were.

As they moved toward the exit ramp, the air hissed as the doors unsealed. Sunlight flooded the interior, a harsh contrast to the artificial glow of the ship. The heat of the new world hit them instantly. Jeopardy’s plates flaring at the difference between the shuttle’s icy air and the warmth of the sun. Dropmix’s plating didn’t flare or react, trapped beneath armor.

Dropmix paused, exhaling slowly as he took in the unfamiliar skyline, eyes narrowing as he adjusted to the brightness. Jeopardy stood beside him, shifting slightly, taking in his surroundings with wide-eyed wonder. The monotone world of Cybertron paled in comparison to the sheer amount of color that radiated around them.

It was beautiful.

Jeopardy’s expression softened, awe bleeding into his features.

Dropmix remained silent, unmoving, his gaze distant.

Among the small crowd that had gathered at the landing pad, two mechs stood out. A flashy golden one and a bright red one by their side. They appeared to be bickering, hands moving wildly as they exchanged heated words with each other. A native stood next to them, a human—Jeopardy reminded himself with a smile. They were small and narrow, just about 6 feet tall. It was kind of adorable, they looked like a sparkling.

The two arguing mechs looked up at the unloading mechs, the red one—Sideswipe—waving as they caught Jeopardy’s frame. The golden one—Sunsuteaker—huffed in annoyance, eyeing Dropmix from afar. The small human waved enthusiastically from where they stood, Jeopardy had almost missed the second human standing next to them.

Jeopardy gave a small, nervous wave back, smiling brightly at the two mechs and their companions, though his unease grew slightly with the way Sunstreaker was looking at them. If he was already picking a fight they were going to have issues. He sighed under his breath.

“Looks like we’re about to get an interesting welcome,” Jeopardy muttered under his breath.

Dropmix didn’t respond immediately, his stance still tense as he adjusted his weight on his legs, but his gaze didn’t leave Sunsteaker. His demeanor shifted slightly, and Jeopardy could sense the discomfort building up within him. He had seen this before—Dropmix wasn’t one to show discomfort, but there were certain situations that always seemed to get under his armor.

Sunstreaker and Dropmix never officially made up after the little incident in the medbay.

It seemed like ages ago now.

“They look different,” Dropmix finally said, his voice low but steady as he turned to face Jeopardy. He was right, their armor not sitting in the same way as it used to, shapes not matching up. His low bassy voice monotone, “Seems like Sunsteaker’s still a prick.”

Jeopardy couldn’t help but crack a smile at that, walking off of the ramp, Dropmix slowly in tow, “You smashed his face in, pretty sure that may have something to do with it.”

Dropmix’s expression softened just slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest smirk at Jeopardy’s remark. He slowly followed the medic off the ramp, his heavy steps echoing behind him as they approached the group of mechs and the small humans. Jeopardy noticed how his steps fell slightly out of rhythm as he moved from walking on the metal ramp to the concrete ground. Dropmix spoke in a low tone, eyes flicking dangerously as he sized the other gladiator up, “I’d happily do it again.”

The medic chuckled lightly, “Please don’t.”

As they drew closer, the human, who had been standing next to Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, waved again, a bright grin on their face. They were wearing a strange outfit, something Jeopardy hadn’t seen before, but it looked fitting for the world they had landed on. The small being rushed forward, “Jeopardy!”

The white mech halted in his approach, staring at the other. He knew that voice, it may have sounded older, a bit gruffer, but he knew it. It was Cometeater. The pretender must have shifted to resume the native’s appearance upon coming to earth. Something that he had not mentioned in any of the messages they had sent.

“Fragging—Comet?” He exclaimed breathlessly, mouth open in shock, though it quickly spread into a grin.

The human stopped a few feet in front of the two medics, smiling brightly, “You recognized me!”

Jeopardy’s grin grew wider as he rushed forward, practically forgetting his manners in his excitement. He knelt down to try and match his height, though he still had to look down at the other. He struggled for a moment with how to greet him, he was just so much smaller now. Jeopardy didn’t want to hurt him. He decided to let himself just smile happily.

“Comet… You—look—” Jeopardy stammered, struggling to find the words as he took in the sight. Cometeater, still grinning, gave a little shrug, clearly amused by the medic’s speechless state.

Dropmix just stared down at the ground, he stood a bit further back, where the concrete stopped. A single foot was in the grass. The elder slowly retreated back onto the pavement, eyeing the ground cautiously. Jeopardy hadn’t even noticed he was stepping on the grass, suddenly becoming aware of how soft and mushy the ground was. His plating pressed against himself as he adjusted to the ground sinking beneath his weight. Cometeater tilted his head.

“You alright Jep?” He asked, examining his friend.

Jeopardy looked at him, “Why the hell is the ground squishy?”

Cometeater chuckled softly, a familiar playful gleam in his eyes as he noticed Jeopardy’s confusion. He gave a little shrug, “That’s just the soil here. Earth’s got all kinds of weird things, but nothing’s gonna hurt you.”

The medic blinked, still trying to process the whole situation. He reached down cautiously, pressing his hand against the ground again as if it would suddenly change. It didn't. He gave a little shake of his head and let out a nervous laugh, finally standing up straighter. He glanced back at Dropmix, who had taken another step away from the grass.

::Dropmix? You good over there?::

Jeopardy comed, trying not to draw attention to the gladiators unease. Cometeater didn’t seem to notice, saying something to the other human in what Jeopardy assumed was english. If he was really trying to pay attention he probably would have been able to decipher it. His thoughts were on his mentor, who was glaring at the grass like he could will it out of existence. He sent another com out to his mentor.

::Comet said that it was just the ground here::

"So... this is Earth, huh?" Jeopardy asked, trying to get his bearings as he looked around, now finally taking in the scenery beyond the landing pad. The lush greenery surrounding them, the open fields, the distant buildings… It was both overwhelming and underwhelming in the best ways.

“Yeah, it is. Jeopardy, I want you to meet someone,” Comet gestured vaguely to the human beside him. They looked to be a female human, sexual dimorphism shining through. They gently waved and Jeopardy waved back. “Her name is Coo, she’s my wife.”

Jeopardy felt his processor stall, a couple programs rebooting.

“Your what?”

#transformers #transformer oc #concepts #comet and coo are not mine!#Jeopardy and Dropmix are #transformers writing #oc writing #this counts as fluff?#fluff #dropmix does the grandparent thing and randomly drops interesting lore at the most random times #Jeopardy like to ignore how old Dropmix is #this is not proofread #I had so much fun writing it tho #Dropmix: *Touches grass* oh hell nah #I just feel like it’s something he would not enjoy #the ground should not be squishy #that’s just wrong #he’d like to get off this cursed planet now #he’s too old for this #Sunstreaker’s going to shove him onto grass at some point and Dropmix will just die #he just simply stops #Dropmix and his fear of what he doesn’t know #he’s lived so long that he knows pretty much everything about Cybertron #not here L #also the twins are arguing about Minecraft or something

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