#matrixblessed

[unicronnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnom]

@matrixblessed replied...

“…Has Rodicron been streaming playthroughs of Portal 2 directly into your brain?”

"He can barely run Doom 1, so no."

( ... WHAT. )

[transformiing]

@matrixblessed

“You are. How astute.”

[photobombingcryptid]

"What alternate Lost Lights have I been visiting then..."

Goddman it.

"Can I crash in for a few weeks at yours then?"

@matrixblessed

[unicronnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnom]

( UNICRON IS AN EMBODIMENT OF MAGICK )

@unicronnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnom said:

NO

“Come on, dude. For ✨science✨.”

[servusendura]

{ @matrixblessed }

Please excuse Rodimus. He may be dying.

No, no. He can’t do that. There’s no dying allowed until Galvatron decides to kill him. That’s how that works. Probably.

Cyclonus is leaning over into his personal space to get a good look at him, optics far too sharp and knowing. “Prime.”

[sparkmender]

{ @matrixblessed }

“You need to be meaner.”

"That sounds like a great way to make everyone mad at me forever."

[crownshrike]

{ @matrixblessed }

“Tell me what we’re lookin at and maybe I can explain it.”

"Rodimus, darling," Starscream drawls, wings giving a pretty flutter for the optics of it. "Believe me when I say I don't think even you could come up with some satisfying bullshit about it."

[noiizemaze]

{ @matrixblessed }

He is Looking.

Get Observed back, strange twink.

“…Hello. Where did you come from?”

[best-first]

{ @matrixblessed }

“The new Shark Megatron is scary.”

"His alt. mode is a shark? Now, I find that awfully fishy."

[forgedcold]

Word travels fast through the multiverse, and so here he is: not to mock, deride, or fulfill some morbid curiosity; nor is he here to force an interaction for his own interests. Sure, this isn't Rodimus' Megatron from his home universe, but in spite of that -- and in spite of all the grief he often gives his own co-captain -- Rodimus still feels obliged to help, somehow. He taps his helm crest, a space of formal or sometimes familial affection. "Here. Feel free to speedrun it." (matrixblessed)

Optics focus on the helm crest, and Megatron stares, squinting, trying to see through the sudden aura of irritation eclipsing his line of sight. He grips the edge of the table, hand trembling from the strain of his thoughts and feelings tied to them. 

Be nice.

He wasn’t nice to me.

The table cracks within his grip. “Are you not the one who thinks Starscream - wickedly deceptive as he is - is somehow redeemable enough to be called better than me?” His optics fall to meet Rodimus’. “Are you not the one who decided to mock me rather than try to understand why I made the decision to leave?”

Megatron waits, gaze searching between his optics, and for what? Empathy? “Spare me your pity. I do not want help from someone who goes back and forth on when I’m worthy of it.”

[cavalierautobot-a]

@matrixblessed

You look...

... exactly like me.

[squinting]

Are you also Hot Rod?

[unicronnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnom]

@matrixblessed replied...

“NO.”

( NOT YOUR CLING-ON. UNICRON RESPECTS YOUR'S MORE THAN IT RESPECTS YOU. )

( THE PRIME'S CLING-ON. THE. LARGER PRIME. BIG WINDOWS, TASTY LEGS, FOLLOWED AROUND BY A HAPPY LITTLE BUG. )

[solisanima]

matrixblessed​:

Slow shrug. “Both?”

To be honest, he’s had a lot of crushes over the years, most of them awkward and all of them, to his knowledge, unrequited.

“What Drift and I have right now is good. Too good to risk messing up with feelings n’shit, y’know?”

Rodimus gives a gleeful gasp. He scoots closer to his alternate—way too close—optics wide.

“No way. You have to tell me everything.”

[photobombingcryptid]

✵ from matrixblessed

Their first impression of your muse:

Loud, a bit obnoxious? Not annoying, though.

Current impression:

My b-bro

Are they attracted to your muse?:

B...Bro

Something they find frightening about your muse:

You know my wrestling moves and this is how you our roughhousing.

Something they find adorable about your muse:

I do like your back. Yes. Your back.

Would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:

Yes.

Would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic:

Sure. For a bro date.

One word my muse would use to describe yours:

Barbecue.

Would my muse slap yours if they could?:

If someone offers me two million Shanix to slap you, I’d slap you and give you one million.

Would my muse hug/kiss yours?:

I think we hug a lot already.

@matrixblessed

[servusendura]

“Hey! Hey! Stay awake, okay? Stay awake.” -matrixblessed

{ @matrixblessed }

Cyclonus’ fingers twitch, then curl into claws and take a haphazard swipe at the piping orange blur in front of her. It misses by inches, but between the willingness to still strike out with her intact arm and the rattling warning hiss—

The starfighter is very much still alive, if a tad delirious from dropping fuel pressure.

“What have you done to them?” She rasps. “Where is my mate? Where is my Lord? I cannot— they are not on my radar. Where are they, Autobot? I know they live yet— do not hide them from me, or I will field-strip you rivet by rivet—”

When she lunges, her crushed forearm and servo are a dead weight that throws her off course. Cyclonus ends up weakly headbutting the blunt curve of her horns into Rodimus’ shoulder with a whine of her engine.

[crownshrike]

{ @matrixblessed }

“I have stencils and The Good Paints that I stole from Drift. Also his second-best airbrush. See me at your earliest convenience.”

"Why, Rodimus, stealing from your bosom amica? How terrible. Don't let me encourage you."

Starscream's smile is genuine, though-- are those dimples?

"I'll trade you some nice polish and a decanter of Nightmare Fuel. How does 3rd quarter 7th cycle sound?"