ROOOOOBOT PROOOOM

[rodders]

Who: ALL ROBOTS.
Where: THE FORUM
When: RIGHT THE FUCK NOW
What: ROBOT PROM
Warnings: teenagers making out, galvatron doing his thing, a throwdown between first aid and tarn over sixshot. usual prom shit.


ROBOT PROM

the punch has been spiked, the music is whatever they could scrape together, and there’s bleachers to make out behind. takes place OUTSIDE in the forum so there's plenty of space and people can easily crash it.

prom king is optimus prime, prom queen is pipes.

please behave as irresponsibly as you would at real prom.

comment around, mingle, you all know the drill.

Comments

OTA

[redshitlord]

[OPTION 1]
What the hell is Prom even? He's never heard of it, but it seems like there's a party. And parties are always good. Sideswipe would never turn down a party in a million years. You know, if he was a million years old.

Which he wasn't.

In fact, he's peering into the apparently spiked punch, trying to determine what exactly he's looking at. Can he drink it? Is it for the humans? What's all this about, exactly?

Someone should clearly explain. And interrupt.



[OPTION 2]
Well.

Somehow, this idiot got his hands on something alcoholic. Because he has somehow managed to flop his way onto the dance floor, and, despite the cobbled-together music, is grooving like a maniac. He always did like music, and this is no exception. Severely intoxicated, or just tipsy and excited, who knows?

He might just grab the nearest bot and spin them off in a ridiculous dance.

Be careful.

2

[imatruck]

Grimlock had no idea what a prom meant, but where there's Sidesqipe a Grimlock won't be far behind. After all, they were buddies, right?

And only after a short while, not only did they get briefly separated but he ran into a completely different side of Sideswipe tonight.

Before he could do any critical thinking, Grimlock found everything go fast around him, ultimately landing in the bot's arms.

"Hey! You pickin' a fight with me?!" obviously Grimlock has not done the one on one dance.

OTA

[officerjuicebox]

[OPTION 1]
This planet really couldn't get much worse. It's pretty bad. Not only are there two versions of Shockwave here, but apparently he's missed an entire war and... well. Suffice it to say the big guy isn't having a good time lately. So he'd left his sulk seat, and ventured out into the land of Being Social, in hopes of shaking off the funk he'd fallen into.

So far? No dice.

Instead of being entertained, he's more or less slunk onto the wall, arms folded over that broad chest, watching the going's on with a more or less tired look. Man... this would be a lot better if there were a bar.

Or no guilt to deal with. That'd be great.



[OPTION 2]
Okay, so, whatever alcoholic beverages were in this place? They've either been confiscated or consumed by the huge bot, and there's a pleasant buzz in all his systems. He's got still another drink in his hand, and his expression has turned from sour to jovial like that.

Now he's making rounds between people, looking for familiar faces, occasionally offering a dance or two... just generally being a lot more upbeat. Amazing what drinking to the point of forgetting your guilt can do.

1

[flashyfinish]

Knock Out isn't any kind of wallflower, but he's not above chatting them up, and he sidles up to the handsomely serious looking fellow holding the walls up, a smile on his face as he looks the other bot over.

Handsome, but not so handsome that Knock Down has to punch him down a few notches, with a nice solid build. Just his type! And perhaps valuable in other ways; Knock Out is open to any possibility.

"Why the glum face?" he asks, friendly and interested, installing himself beside the guy. "Did you get stood up by your date?"

OTA

[arnhaid]

The last time he was at a party, he got shot. And woke up on a desolate, decrepit Cybertron infested with bugs. Alone. Confused. And then Alpha Trion happened...

So, needless to say, Ironhide isn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of attending another party. But he shows up, all the same. Someone has to keep an eye on Prime, Ratchet, Hot R--Rodimus, the others. If he doesn't, who will? It's hard to fall out of the bodyguard in his nature. Too hard.

And who knows? Maybe it'll come in handy somehow. Some way.

Ironhide isn't exactly partying, so much as he is weaving his way through party-goers. His expression is neutral, and there's the occasional smile for those he knows. But he's determined to stay distant. Vigilant.

No dying, this time.

[tsunclonus]

Cyclonus nods at Ironhide as he passes by, an ex-bodyguard recognizing the bearing of another. He's playing his usual role at a party: lurking near the outskirts and drinking. He's not entirely sure why he's here, other than to try and guard against possible trouble.

It might be because if Tailgate was here his friend would have insisted on his presence.

He doubts Ironhide will think much of him being here - after all, even some of his fellow crewmates on the Lost Light still don't trust him - but he's another protective eye on the party all the same.

OTA

[scaredybot]

Mayday spends most of the party glued to Pipes's side. He finds social occasions with lots of people a bit overwhelming and he's pretty sure that he's going to nerd to hole up in his ship for a week and intensely groom his deer collection to recover from this. But he had to come because Pipes invited him and gosh this was basically like a second date and he's definitely never had one if those before!

Occasionally, though, Pipes wants to dance with other people, and when that happens Mayday retreats to the bleachers with a cup of punch. He even sits on the bleachers after carefully wiping a space clean for himself.

He sits and sips and jitters because he hasn't realized yet that the punch is spiked, and he's starting to worry that the increasing fuzziness in his processors is Type B Neural Decay.

[imatruck]

Ever since he came to this “Prom” at Sideswipe's behest, Grimlock started to suspect there wasn't anything that the name Prom suggested to his mind. He imagined there would be at least one brawl but so far? No fights broke out, not one with his name on it. And that's just a disgrace.

So the dinobot consigns himself to trying the punch. While he never tried this kind of stuff before, he was a big enough bot not to get hit too hard. He felt a pleasant buzz after he finished the first one, but he wasn't getting knocked out just yet.

But he's still bored anyway, so here he goes taking a seat next to the weird blue bot. He groans, looking down to the little guy, “You mad there ain't no fights, too?”

ota

[flashyfinish]

A party!

It has been hundreds of years since Knock Out has been to a proper party, but the sounds of revelry drew him in like an Insecticon to chaos, and here, here! Here are more bots-- more real bots, not those throwaway Vehicons and Insecticons, who all had the same faces and sculpts and completely boring and/or offensive personalities-- than he'd seen in one place for decades and decades.

Never mind that he isn't waxed to glowing, and never mind that his rotary buffer is somewhere on some other Cybertron; he is still going to be the most gorgeous person here, and he holds his head high and smiling and mingles. He loves parties. After all, what better way to score allies and intelligence and kisses than a party where everyone else is drinking the punch?

[academybot]

Option 1

Optimus has staked out a spot near the dance floor, but so far hasn't really engaged in any prom activities aside from getting himself a glass of punch. He hasn't been avoiding talking to anyone, necessarily, but he's not much of a party goer and knows hardly anyone here.

So he's standing off to the side with his drink, watching the rest of the party and looking quite a bit more relaxed than he has his whole time planetside so far.

Option 2

After a while the party is starting to get a little more crazy as it becomes evident that the punch was spiked. Optimus is even starting to feel a little buzzed, and has since left the drinking to the more enthusiastic bots. But he's getting swept into the mood, smiling and laughing at some of the escapades happening.

He's currently chilling on the bleachers, sitting in the most comfortable position he could find considering bleachers are kind of terrible for that.

1!

[orerrible]

"Prime, is it?"

Shockwave peeled himself off the wall like a shadow with a sudden emergence of sentience, silent and unnoticed until he spoke up. This event, and he would be the first to admit, was an excuse to satiate a few curiosities. Chief among them was this fresh faced Autobot; young enough that Shockwave could almost smell the new paint yet who called himself Optimus Prime. Shockwave had been observing him nearly as much as his more aged experienced counterpart.

OTA

[phase6kindofbot]

This was definitely not a very good idea. It wasn't a terrible idea yet, but it was definitely not one of his better ideas. It wasn't even really his idea necessarily, but it wasn't the kind of idea a model Phase Six super solider was supposed to let themselves indulge in.

You know, ignoring all those time Black Shadow and Overlord disregarded the whole 'model Phase Six super soldier' thing and partied with the lower ranks anyways.

Sixshot has crammed himself into the darkest corner of the forum that he could find, curled up in wolf mode. He's mass shifted down to the smallest sized he could go and is generally trying to avoid detection.

[imatruck]

Grimlock didn't have the greatest powers of observation, not by a long shot. And after drinking just two cups of the spiked punch? It dulled his senses even less, even though he hadn't reached the horizon of 'unable to make good decisions'. But with Grimlock such a horizon was a small tipping point.

And thus with such a tipsy sensory system so hard it work, it can be perfectly easy to amble round aimlessly with little self-awareness. So much self-awareness that he doesn't notice anything until he feels something connect with his foot.

“Huh? Who's there?” Grimlock looked around at eye level, oblivious to anything going on around him beyond that level, “...guess that must be one of them Cyber Wolves...”

points at eyes, points at literally everyone present

[planate]

Pipes could not be happier. Having a prom was one thing, being one of the prom monarchs was another! He never thought he was that popular.

Regardless, he doesn't make a big show of entering with Mayday, just decides instead to mill around, autograph anything anyone wants (no-one will want that) and say hi to people he hasn't met already.

If you're a wallflower, he'll be targeting you especially. Socialise, you giant shitbabies.

[scaredybot]

Mayday hovers around Pipes like a particularly wobbly moon around its planet, doing his best to go unnoticed by everybody while not being forgotten by his date and left behind. He is simultaneously stressed-the-heck-out and beside himself with glee because Pipes asked him to prom.

He even shined himself up to a mirror-like gleam instead of just cleaning himself sterile!

[staygoldponybot]

Sentinel isn't interested in the gathering or anyone present. He may have finally admitted to himself he's starting to get kinda lonely and is sick of sleeping in a dumpster, but he still really hates everyone here. Especially you, Megatron.

He might have gone on the off chance one of his henchmen might have shown up. He might have gone because there's ample supply of booze. Either way, he grabbed the biggest glass he could find and several refills and decided to sit at the bottom of one of the bleachers. On the floor. Because it started creaking under his fat ass.

Wonderful.

[primebyproxy]

Sentinel has probably worked through at least one refill before Ultra Magnus works up the nerve to show up and spots him. Sentinel certainly looks like he may not want company.

Magnus joins him anyway.

"Sir?" he ventures cautiously, not sitting down just yet.

[chickscream]

Slipstream was late to the party, having not been informed about the party, but she's grinning pretty widely as she strolls in (towering over a good chunk of the other promgoers), and her wings are adorned with makeshift and rather ugly bumper stickers over her Decepticon insignias.

They read "Honk If You Hate Starscream", though, and she considers that beautiful enough to be worth putting on her wings.

She heads straight for the punch, downs a couple glasses (it's not oil, dammit, but it sets a pleasant running through her sensors), and proceeds to hassle people from the outskirts, jeering and mocking people for their dancing, their faces, and for getting offended by her hassling.

But if anyone reads her wings and honks for her, they'll be treated to a great big grin and thumbs up, and she might well strike up a conversation on the topic of How Terrible Starscream Is.

[phase6kindofbot]

Sixshot doesn't have a horn to honk, nor any real desire to engage socially, really. He does quietly chuff when Slipstream passes by though.

It was nice to see someone share that sentiment.

Gatecrashing

[deceptionshark]

Ah, a gathering! After so many hours of flying around and seeing the same landscape over and over again, Megatron was glad for a reason to entertain himself for a while. Does the fact that everyone present is mostly autobots half his size? No! Such things would never bother a gladiator of Kaon. He's so unbothered by it that he doesn't even talk to anyone at first, he checks out the refreshments with interest. Goodness, a chance to get drunk! Well, who is he to ignore such an opportunity?

He grins and swipes a cube of high-grade. It'll take a lot of these before he gets anywhere, but he imagines there will be plenty to entertain him in the meantime.

[orerrible]

Shockwave believes beyond a shadow of a doubt that Megatron did not come here believing he would go unnoticed. It was somewhat surprising to see Megatron, any Megatron, make a beeline for the open bar. Overlooking a brief low period ages ago, Shockwave would have just assumed they would all do the sensible thing and have their fuel intake moderation chip permanently activated. Leave less room to be caught unawares.

"I would not have anticipated such an event to put you in high spirits." Shockwave addressed Megatron as he came up to the side of the bar without reaching for the high-grade himself. Moderation chip functioning normally and having fueled days ago it would not have served a purpose. And he did not come here to be social.

[smallandincharge]

Ultra Magnus is chaperoning the party, of course. She's hunkered down in a chair in the corner, nursing an energon spritzer and glaring suspiciously at everyone.
Someone should probably come over and distract her so that Rodimus and Drift can sneak off under the bleachers.

[academybot]

Optimus was on his way back to his own corner of the room when he caught sight of the unmistakable bot. In a split second he was addressing her with a perfect salute, years of academy training kicking in.

"Ultra Magnus, ma'am. I didn't realize you were here on this planet." He started to falter near the end though as it became obvious this wasn't the Ultra Magnus he was familiar with. He hesitantly lowered his arm, a little unclear about the command structure after what the other Optimus had said about the difference with Prime and Magnus on his world.

[optout]

Social events and Optimus Prime are like oil and vinegar. Often side by side but usually never mixing, and if they do, it's trying its hardest to separate again. But Shockwave had convinced him to come to this get together. And by not even entering the competition he'd somehow won Prom King. Yeah...you figure that one out. In celebration, there's a small crown that didn't quite fit on his head, so it's looped around one of his giant blue ears for the evening.

This was going to be a long night.

Option 1:

You can find him chaperoning against the wall, making sure that everything is going at least somewhat peacefully--people are having fun, dances are being had. Things like that. Optimus dancing, though? That's asking far too much from the Autobot leader. Not only does he openly claim he has two left feet...

But maybe he just doesn't know how.

Probably a bit of both.

Option 2:

He's standing outside to get some fresh air (you don't breathe, dingus) from all the bustle.

What a party animal.

2

[arnhaid]

Why yes, he is keeping tabs on you, Optimus. And when he sees you duck out for a minute, he follows. No, he's not going to make a secret of it. He's just going to stomp after Optimus, poking his head outside.

"You okay?"

Because, yes, that is the first thing he's going to ask.

[gimmicky]

Everyone seemed to be having a good time tonight, with dancing taking place and arguments ensuing over whether or not the punch was spiked. Various shouts of 'Rodimus' and 'Brainstorm' ring through the air as the event folds out, everyone either on the dance floor or hugging the wall like wallflowers. It was a mix.

Speaking of wallflowers, Trailcutter's just going to occupy one of the corners, holding a drink in his hand as he watches the hustle and bustle of everyone having a good time. This was usually the time that the alcohol started kicking in. The sudden lack of fitting that into social gatherings was still so new to him, that he keeps swirling the drink, only taking a sip once every so often.

All he had to do was wait for the party to die down, and then he could slip out unnoticed. Not like anyone WOULD, right? He wasn't as loud or (possibly drunk) as some of the others.

[phase6kindofbot]

Apparently, this is a sober corner of the party.

"So you're First Aid's dead friend," Sixshot remarks quietly, red eyes peering up at Trailcutter. He's got his chin atop his paws and was wedged somewhat uncomfortably into the shadowy corner.

[lethalimpact]

Boy, don't you look like a sore thumb, Impactor. Parties? Those were for the higher ups--and whatever miners celebrated was certainly not as high end or classy as this. Drinking at a bar, maybe. But a full on party? Totally out of his element. But Megatron'd asked him to come, and it really sucks when you just can't say no to that face. Honestly, he's tried.

But that didn't stop him from sulking around (it's his default face, okay) as others tend to part like minnows to a shark. It honestly doesn't bother him all too much--whoever wants to avoid him can gladly do so.

It doesn't really make him much of a partier though. Because...it's not like it was obvious to start.

[lifepersists]

Sensible mechs would move out of Impactor's way, but First Aid instead made a beeline for the miner to immediately attach himself to him arm like a remora. The medic makes sure to thoroughly wrap his hands around the arm in a vice grip before he lifts his head to actually address him.

"You look lonely. Want some company?"

[tsunclonus]

Cyclonus isn't here to have fun. Cyclonus is here to have a drink and help out if something - almost inevitably - goes wrong.

He stands silently near the bleachers with a cup of punch in one hand, watching the revelers and listening to the music.

[rodders]

Wow, it's like people have such a low opinion of large get-togethers of Cybertronians! Rodimus notices Cyclonus early on, before he starts practicing his best organic vine impression with Drift, and makes a beeline for the stoic bot.

"Cyclonus! Hey!"

Does he have anything to say beyond that? Probably not. But he's going to hold a conversation even if it kills him.

OTA

[sparkwhisperer]

If it was a bad idea to enter Maccadam’s, despite its garish and poorly written sign, then who can really say what Tarn was thinking when he arrived at the party. the Autobot’s party, to be precise. Uninvited. With Pharma (probably the person the Autobots hated second only to Tarn and perhaps the fabled 'Megatron with the pointy teeth') in tow; lured with the promise of free energon.

Really, one can only stand Spinister’s home distilled energon for so long.

As he enters the forum, Tarn spots Sixshot laying in the corner. He gives the Phase Sixer a slight nod in acknowledgement, before making a beeline for the punch bowl.

Like hell he’s going to let anyone get in the way of him and (what he thinks is) proper sustenance.

[phase6kindofbot]

Oooooohhh Primus, Tarn was here too.

Sixshot returns the nod of acknowledgement and then very, very quietly, makes the tiniest unhappy wolf whine to himself.

He is very, very sad about not being able to drink right about now.

OTA

[fuckinstoplights]

Someone didn't intend to be here at all. Someone was just trying to hide out from the world and crazy scrubbing medics and sulk. But, unfortunately, while he'd been dozing, the party had rolled in.

At some point, the ninja bot eases down a wall, slipping out of an air vent to do so.

Which is probably not as stealthy as he's hoping for, given the room full of bots. But, hey, he's trying.

gunfingers

[planate]

"That was pretty smooth."

Yeah, sorry buddy. Someone saw you. Someone tiny and confused as to Kagerou's choice of entrance.

[rodders]

OTA.

Rodimus is grinning widely, making his way around and chatting people he knows and maybe a few he doesn't. The punch seems to have gone down well, and he's got a cup of it in his hand. The green color is throwing him off, but he's realized that eventually - if not already - he's gonna start bleeding that color.

Weird.

But tonight isn't about that. It's about throwing a party and having fun! Which is why he's easily approached and smiling at everyone who comes in five feet of him.

CLOSED TO THE BAE DRIFT.

After a certain point in the night, Rodimus has decided he's spent enough time away from Drift. Which means invading his personal space, coming up to nudge him in the side with an elbow. He's put away his multiple punch cups and decided that they are going to do something. They are going to sneak out behind the the rubble and make out. That is absolutely on his list now that they can do it.

But there's something they need to do beforehand.

"Hey Drift," he says in an approximation of smooth and suave. "Wanna dance?"

[auramatic]

Drift's had a drink or two, letting himself loosen up a little more than he's usually prone to. The engex here is basically swill, given the equipment they have, but it's still a step above some of the tankrot they used to brew in the Decepticon ranks. He's hanging by one of the half-crumbled forum walls, hanging back from the crowd a little, but apparently contentedly watching. He glances at Rodimus, optics fuzzy and casting a faint halo of light around them in the cool evening dark.

"Dance?" He smiles slightly. Somehow it seems a little easier than his usual smile. He sets his glass down on the wall, where it'll quickly be forgotten, and holds out a hand. "Yeah, sure. Of course."

OTA, if you can stand the big weenie

[primebyproxy]

Ultra Magnus is trying. It isn't so much that he's bad at public appearances – in fact, he had to get rather good at them rather quickly when he took command – so much as that he feels awkward and out of place here. Most of these Autobots, and even the Decepticons, don't seem to share much in common with him or the reality he knows. They do, however, seem to know one another to some degree.

But they've been welcoming to him so far. So he's trying.

He doesn't manage much better than milling on the outskirts of the party, and though he clearly wants to participate – if the hesitant looks he gives several conversations and clusters of robots now and again are any indication – he is also keenly aware of how little he has to contribute.

Maybe he could try a little harder.

I CAN STAND HIM

[planate]

Pipes rockets over to Magnus. He's on a mission with this one. He practically bounces off Magnus' giant knee, so over eager he is.

"You!" he states with confidence. "We're dancing!" It has been decided.

Unfortunately, his crown picks that moment to slide down over his optics. Slightly affects the bold image he was going for.

OTA

[briefcase]

Could Brainstorm be more awkward?

He tended to avoid Swerve's when it was busy, and he could have been in his workshop coming up with his next scientific breakthrough, but he heard a thing or two about getting out and how it was good for creativity.

It had nothing to do with the fact Nautica was there, of course.

And it had nothing to do with staring at any of Nautica's dance partners with an acid glare.

He trusted you, Skids.

Nope, he's just going to mingle -- close to the edge of the party -- and feed engex into the fuel slot in his wrist.

[triggerhappycopter]

"Why are you drinking with your emergency injector instead of your oral intake?"

Yes, hello, there was, indeed, a pair of red optics peering up at Brainstorm from behind a nearby pillar.

When had he arrived? Why was he asking a complete strange super personal questions? Why did he have the entire punch bowl with him?

Mysteries never to be solved, of course.

The fellow was definitely drunk off his metal robot tits though.

OTA

[pharma]

The fact that Pharma is even here isn't the most embarrassing part. No, the most embarrassing part is that he's technically here with Tarn. He isn't stupid, he knows how this is going to look, especially with people here that know his history. But perhaps it's better that he come back out to make his presence more secured in this place. The free energon was a bonus, too.

But he is still trying to keep as much distance from his 'date' as possible, settling around with a drink in hand and just sort of examining the group that has congregated so far.

[triggerhappycopter]

"Oh my god." Suddenly! A Spinister!

"Everyone here," he declares, grabbing Pharma by the backs of his shoulders and shaking it as if that's somehow help him communicate this enormous revelation better. "Everyone here is a baby."

[auramatic]

As one of the members of the Prom Committee, Drift is of course in attendance. He is in charge of confetti.

Although he'll spend a considerable portion of the evening making out with Rodimus in some dark corner, Drift is otherwise hanging around, enjoying the drinks and watching everyone have a good time. There's a good vibe in the air tonight, and it's coming from the heart of the party. This is what Cybertron wants, isn't it? Somehow, Drift gets that sense, and it makes him buoyant. He might even dance a little, although he's mostly hanging back serenely.

[loyaute]

"You're the ex-con."

Arcee isn't here to enjoy the party - she's here as an observer, watching everyone and attempting to understand who's here, who's new, and who's gone missing. Drift is-- Arcee isn't sure. She and him haven't met, haven't interacted. But she knows who he is just as much as she knows every Autobot knows who she is.

Conversation isn't what she's good at - things are difficult and it's a skill she hasn't perfected. Which is why she's perched on a crumbling wall behind him when she talks, swords sheathed on her back.

[crabcake]

Rampage is late. And he's not so much at the prom as vaguely haunting the edges of it. He doesn't want the punch, his doesn't like the music, he has no interest in dancing, and his spark is itching from being close to so many people with so many different emotions.

He wouldn't be here at all but he's feeling... unsettled this evening and doesn't quite feel like being alone. So here he is, sitting mostly in the shadows and generally resenting every single person here.

[lifepersists]

He should have never come to the party. If he hadn't then maybe he'd be sober. And blissfully unaware of the intricate details of Tarn's interface life and maybe Trailcutter would still want to speak to him. First Aid's frame was dented and aching, but it was the despair that was worse.

First Aid intended to go home and resume his routine of wishing he didn't exist, but as he spots Rampage's frame his legs take him on a detour. Hopefully the crab didn't mind a drunk, partially weeping, medic coming over to crawl into his lap and bury his face down against a warm leg.

[sparkwhisperer]

Prom had gone from a nice evening with free engex, to a spinning hellscape of inescapable embarrassment and pain, far more quickly than one may have hoped. Tarn would like it to end now please.

As it stands, he has found a mostly secluded corner behind the bleachers to spend his time until he is sober enough to stumble home. In the meantime, he has plenty of opportunity to mull over the events of the night, wretching on his intoxication. His frame shudders in misery as he purges the engex from his tanks for the third time in under an hour.

An argument could be made that the pathetic noise that escapes him was a sob. Tarn would disagree of course.

He’s too distracted by his suffering to hear anyone approach.

[system_dp]

The fact that Tarn is too distracted with himself to hear anyone approach would be hilarious, if Miria even knew who Tarn was. She had, fortunately, arrived at the prom late enough to miss the majority of the shouting match (although she did hear something about thirsting for chickens? she'll have to ask someone about that later.) but not so late to miss the whole thing.

But the earth made robot has no idea what to do during a prom, so she finds herself in the same area as Tarn. And she is very sure that the noise the Decepticon is making is not a normal sound.

"Is the Cybertronian in need of a medic?" she asks, in her normal monotone as she peers at Tarn from around the bleachers.