tilallaregone
OᑭTᖇOᑎI᙭
G1 INSPIRED SHATTERED GLASS OPTIMUS PRIME RP BLOG
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martyrix:
Or a sense of humor apparently.
bitch i melt people
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@martyrix
TIS A FLESH WOUND.
we don’t have flesh.
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Smacks him upside the head
stabs him
“see now we’re both in the wrong”
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dizzydiodes:
Their gaze meets and the little minibot is once again filled with a sudden jolt of fear. It’s irrational, he tells himself, and wills himself to relax. It was just different, not bad. Not scary. He was only picturing those optics belonging to the likes of Megatron because he just wasn’t used to it yet.
Shaking himself from a momentary lapse in manners, Bumblebee makes up for his silence with an enthusiastic nod. “I know I’m full of questions. And if I don’t know an answer, we can always find someone who does.”
Right off the bat, the question seemed difficult to answer. It always seemed like the Autobots were on the defensive, simply reacting to Decepticon attacks and pushing them back just long enough for Megatron to strike again. Still, the fight on Earth felt more optimistic. On Cybertron, they were dying. If it wasn’t Decepticons slaughtering Autobots in battle, they would succumb to depleted energy. Earth’s battles felt repetitive, but with plentiful fuel and human allies, the war was beginning to feel winnable for the first time.
“Well, Megatron isn’t exactly the type to sit down for a chat. He’s more interested in building machines to strip Earth of its energy. But we’ve been winning a lot of those fights. It’s all thanks to our human friends helping us out, I think. Megatron is tough, but the Autobots are tougher. What about your Autobots?”
There was so much nuance to the weakness of these Autobots. A continued intrigue has him wasting his time listening to him babble on about their shortcomings and failure in the war against their Decepticons. All that kept him lingering on the conversation was that Cybertronian archivist still lingering beneath the misty fogged mind of the murderous tyrant. Disappointing, that’s all that could be said for his feelings about these counterparts of his legion.
“I suppose we’re faring a bit better.” If these Autobots were simply reacting, Prime’s were nothing but action. Megatron and his mindless fools were attempting to push them back and save humanity, Earth, and Cybertron. But their numbers dwindled against the relentless merciless hand of the Emperor of Destruction. But speaking too harshly about his conquest and the spark snuffing of Decepticons would market himself as being different from Bee’s Optimus little too much.
“Their numbers are shrinking. We find ourselves on the winning side of the majority of conflicts as well.” Was the polite way he could put it. Prime was fast-tracking his way to rebuilding the same collection he’d sported on Iacon. Traitors, Decepticons, and whatever else in between, slagged and hung from his walls.
As he grew in power, as the Matrix held tight onto his spark, he found himself growing more intolerant and unhinged, more hungry for violence-- Which found him slagging as many Autobots as Decepticons. Hands fold behind his back, hiding the clawed digits from the smaller bot, who seemed so absolutely enamored with him. “Megatron never really stood too much of a chance-- As much as I wish we could have seen eye to eye.”
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He’s definitely visually a combo of the blocky boxy g1 optimus, and the thin lanky creepy aesthetic of the aligned verse decepticons. He looks creepy and weird, he’s got pointy dentae beneath his face shield, and looks basically like everything optimus shouldn’t stand for: like a bot made to kill.
his voice is gravelly, rough, hoarse almost like a monster who spends its entire time screaming
his optics are like burning hot energon daggers that look like they peel their way right to a bot’s spark with just a look.
The frame is very much Optimus Prime looking, but once you get the opportunity to look at the finer details (beyond palette) he’s very different.
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Prime’s smokestacks are energon cannons, it pairs with the fact that his alt mode is not an Earth truck
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dizzydiodes:
The talk of unity was inspiring, and leave it to an Optimus Prime to focus on sharing knowledge rather than turning towards violence. The little Volkswagen felt almost embarrassed for suggesting it; it was so unbecoming of an Autobot. But if this Prime was judging for it, Bumblebee was glad he didn’t make it known.
“I’d be happy to answer questions,” he volunteered, shaking out of his momentary spiral into self-degradation. Motivated by the idea of some other Bumblebee earning Optimus’ approval, he would be happy to offer up any information the other deemed necessary. “We could take turns. You can ask a question, and then I can ask one back.”
Bumblebee was far from an expert on anything involving Autobot strategy, technology, or even the day-to-day operations at Headquarters. His expertise was better suited to garner that information from Decepticons. With the Autobots, Bumblebee was happy to follow orders and know only what he was supposed to.
That said, he knew exactly how to get what he needed out of Teletraan-I.
The proposition breaks him from his focus on Teletraan-I’s databanks. Throwing a cog in his vested interest in gleaning all he could about this place before he set forth to conquer it. Were their solitude an assurance and not a potentially hollow promise, Prime would have put a whole in this poor little bot’s armor pulling his spark out. Though Prime wasn’t so sure it was something he could do quietly even if he wanted to.
Clawed digits furl tightly to mask the seething rage of his focus being broken, and he casts the gaze of those blood red optics down to the smaller Autobot, “Of course, that sounds like an excellent idea.” Worst coming to worst, he’d simply bury his energon axe into the poor bot’s processor, and be done with it. Given their track records with their world’s version of Decepticons, surely these Autobots would mistake it for one of their plots.
“I suppose we’ve both got plenty of questions for one another.” Prime knew enough, he figured, from skimming the surface history of this world it seemed that their histories were flipped, their alignments twisted. Few things being the same, like coming to Earth on the Ark, but reasonings and conflicts still a dark reflection.
“How are your Autobots faring in the war for unity?” His were winning, in full measures, the Decepticons dwindled and were desperate. Slowly being swallowed by the despair of their unwinnable war. Soon Megatron would find his head on a pike, and once he started his conquest, so too would this world’s.
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forgedwrecker:
The voice jolts Ultra Magnus from his work, and he glances up at the vid-comm. now opened at his terminal. He had answered it absently whilst mid-sentence reading a report, and now he wishes he’d been paying closer attention.
The timbre of the voice itself is painfully familiar, and he immediately recognizes it as that of his deceased leader – except it is not. Something is off, perhaps the cadence or the tone, something slight that were Ultra Magnus less familiar, he might not have noticed. So does the visage that greets his strike a familiar chord– except it, too, is wrong. The colors are the most obvious, though that is not what makes the blue mecha leery. It is the proportions, the boxier nature that belies an alternate string of existence, and the look he catches in the Prime’s optics.
Were he a lesser mecha, he might have shivered in discomfort.
As is, Ultra Magnus schools his features into a neutral– albeit vaguely suspicious– countenance, before returning the comm.
« You have reached Ultra Magnus of Autobot Command. Is there something I may help you with? »
"Yes yes, I am more than fully aware of who you are-- Where you are-- What you are.” Prime’s optics burn from the other side of the video screen, tearing away at the navy finish of the other bot, the one he’d recognized as-- what was in his world-- his brother. He remembers the feeling of clawed digits burrowing into frame to peel scrap face away from his pitiful weaker sibling-- Casting him into an eternal prison. A bot he could never forget, no matter how much he tried, a punishment he relished in as one of his finer moments.
“You may not be the Magnus I know, but I could never forget a bot no matter how different the sparks may be. It has been many cycles since I relished in damning you to eternal torment.” Hatred continues to toil and light that spark brightly beneath the mostly calm and collected visage of the tyrant Prime. Boiling away at his tanks, pulsing alongside the energon in his fuel tanks.
“I know who you are, just like you know who I am, Ultra Magnus. I am Optimus Prime.”
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I apologize in advance for being spotty
my brain’s all cloudy
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most of the things he says I can absolutely see SG Prime saying
in the haze of my sickness
I have decided that my SG Optimus sounds like Shao Kahn in Mortal Kombat 11 so there’s that
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dizzydiodes:
It was refreshing to hear the sentiment from another voice. Of course Bumblebee was happy to fight alongside the Autobots - he didn’t enjoy the fighting, of course, but knowing he was protecting countless innocent lives from falling under Megatron’s rule was all he could ask for. Still, it was nice to know someone from completely different universe understood him.
Perhaps he was right. While Optimus hadn’t intended to visit, it didn’t seen right to send him back empty handed. And everyone knew knowledge was the most valuable resource of all!
With his better judgement thoroughly smothered by the other’s words, Bumblebee didn’t bother watching what Optimus was looking up on supercomputer. Instead, he was studying the other mechanism, noting the less obvious details that set him apart. He desperately wanted to know what Optimus’ own Bumblebee – one of the greatest Autobots – looked like, but it felt like a silly, selfish question compared to talks of unity.
“I think that’s a great idea,” he replies immediately. If the other Autobots were working on a space bridge of their own, they must be more advanced than Bumblebee’s own crew. Of course, space bridges had always seemed like more trouble than they were worth; big, bulky things that, until very recently, they believed only led you straight into Shockwave’s lair. “Maybe we can work together and stop Megatron once and for all.”
The more he gleaned about this pitiful existence, the more disgusted the Autobot tyrant grew with what he saw. Altruistic heroic Autobots, Decepticons who behaved like his legions of followers-- And events that seemed... Backwards. Sieges and conquests he’d done in the interest of his own cause attributed to Megatron and his cowardly lot. “One step at a time, I think, my friend.”
He’d slaughter them all in this world, Autobots, Decepticons, the feckless simpering little primates that they called friends. Conquering this world and taking its resources had become priority, getting back had become a stage 2. Prime knew, regardless of how long it took him to return, he could easily overthrow whatever cowardly worm attempted to usurp his position as Emperor.
“Before we think about fighting, communicating and learning from one another has to open the door.” There’s a glee toiling in the pit of his spark, causing those optics to burn a little brighter. The thought of carrying the heads of two Megatron’s on a pike, and a pretender Prime as well-- It fed into the Matrix’s desires. It fed his hunger for violence and destruction, it almost made up for how positively disturbing of a cracked mirror this world was to his own.
“Ridding both of our world’s of the Decepticon threat is a lofty goal, but I believe we should focus on the uniting of our people’s first. Two world’s of Autobots coming together.” To be conquered and enslaved by the greatest of the Prime’s.
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