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

[planate]

"Hey, everyone's big compared to me! They're more like... average to large size."

He shrugs.

"Their size just makes them good at... getting things off high shelves, I guess."

[planate]

Ohhh no he's SO PINK.

"Maybe because..." he pushes his index fingers together sheepishly, "you're also a good Autobot? I mean, you're The Autobot!"

[fuckinstoplights]

He shakes his head, and stays put right behind the smaller bot.

"I can fly. I don't need things off shelves."

[planate]

Pipes leans over, looking behind Optimus. Sure enough, the other Optimus was had one.

"He's huge! That crown would fit on you well, I'd imagine."

Crowns are weird. Who even made them??

"That's the one. I'd imagine it won't stay free for long if we're supposed to be starting a society or whatever, though."

[lifepersists]

Drunk as he was, First Aid didn't have the coordination to brace himself as he's tossed. He hits the ground a little harder than he normally would, denting his plating as it crunches under his weight. The shock of pain keeps him curled on the ground for a lingering moment until he pushes himself up.

"I really like him, you know."

The anger was starting to wear off, replaced by a wave of despair. He gets back up on his feet slowly, but he only trails a little after Tarn.

"You don't even care about him."

[briefcase]

That almost makes Brainstorm drop his flask.

Honestly he wasn't expecting people to want to converse with him, except maybe his few friends. This mech was definitely not one of them. He gives him a suspicious narrowed eye look, trying to discern if he had seen him before.

"Maybe not all mechs have oral intakes," he sniffs dismissively

[rodders]

He frowns for a second, confusion crossing over his face before it settles. "You're Ultra Magnus, aren't you? So anything you do is what Ultra Magnus does."

The logic is sound by his reckoning, and it doesn't matter if she's Ultra Magnus or Minimus Ambus, she just is.

[triggerhappycopter]

"So if I go and pop that chin guard off, there's totally no space for a standard fuel intake?" Spinister slithers out of the shadows and well into Brainstorm's personal space. Very, very gently, he tries to poke at the side of the scientist's mask.

"Actually, wow," the big copter mutters, leaning ever closer- or as close as the punch bowl between them let him anyways. "Those double cooling slits look kinda like the slits on mine. We're like. We're like mask siblings!"

[scaredybot]

"I-I know that! But- but-" He gives Pipes big sparkly puppy eyes, twiddling his fingers nervously. "Are we dating?"

Say the thing, Pipes. Say it for certain!

[briefcase]

"What? You're not taking my face off!" Brainstorm holds up his briefcase as a barrier to hopefully deter the mech.

Decepticons. They were either extrodinarily aloof or had no concept of social and personal boundaries. Brainstorm fell somewhere in an awkward middle-- probably because he was born an Autobot.

"It's a common design. It doesnt mean anything."

[smallandincharge]

"Like I said. You don't understand." Magnus continues to stare at a fixed point in the middle distance. "I may be Ultra Magnus, but Ultra Magnus is something... well, bigger than I am. Ultra Magnus is a symbol, Ultra Magnus is a legacy, Ultra Magnus is stability personified. It is not my place to change that."

[tsunclonus]

"Not all that is myth does not exist," Cyclonus says. "After all, the Metrotitans are linked to the Knights, and they are far from fiction."

The Dead Universe was only a legend, too, and he got stuck in it for millions of years.

[scaredybot]

"There's no such thing as a fun fight!" Mayday practically squeals, spilling splashes of his punch as he flails his arms wildly in emphasis.

"They're all terrifying!"

[planate]

"Really?"

Fliers are too cool, he puts aside anything else for this. It's very important.

"I didn't realise you were a flier!"

[planate]

He nods happily.

"Yes."

[gimmicky]

Hearing it from First Aid's mouth somehow solidified it even more than Sixshot could have, and a hand goes to his visor as his body slumps against something, his biolights flaring up as he tries to keep his forcefield generators from initiating panic mode.

"You were doing your job."

He can't fault First Aid for that, although his voice seems like it's trying it's hardest to get that out. Like his throat involuntarily wouldn't work and he had to force it to.

Nothing was okay.

"I should go..."

Before he does something regrettable. He can't blame it on the alcohol this time.

[triggerhappycopter]

Spinister is definitely on the social end of the Decepticon spectrum considering his casual usage of teammates as armrests. It was pretty typical for low ranking soldiers to be crammed into tiny spaces together and you either killed your roommate(s), or your personal bubble got smaller as an adaptive measure.

The latter was generally violently encouraged by ticked off commander sorts.

"Why would it mean anything? Mask slits for cooling's always been a thing." Still, he does pause in momentary thought before adding, "I mean, this particular style of double slits was kind of common with Decepticons because a lot of us blokes were made in the same factory in Kaon and then we took over the factory and just used a lot of the same designs because it worked and why change a good thing that wasn't broke, you know?"

After that, he just shrugs and concludes, "So it's kind of weird if you weren't cold con'd in Kaon before the war. Or a Decepticon. I guess."

[fuckinstoplights]

"Yes."

Psh, Pipes, no. He's not important. He's like the opposite of important. All the same, he lifts his wings, flicking them a bit.

"See?"

[arnhaid]

"Okay, so he's lookin' for a bunch of guys who might not be a myth."

Ironhide doesn't exactly roll his optics, but it's close. He almost does.

[planate]

"Ooh! Do you have a flying alt-mode or just the wings?"

He's never seen anyone fly with just wings before.

[fuckinstoplights]

"I have a bird mode. And a car mode. The bird is the one that flies."

That last part he adds, in an effort to be helpful.

[gimmicky]

"It certainly is."

Although his brow quirks up at Kagerou's question. "You don't know what a party is? It's...well, this. A gathering where people have fun and dance and talk."

See: none of the things Trailcutter's doing.

[tsunclonus]

"Hm," Cyclonus... agrees? Dismisses?? It's kind of hard to tell with single syllables without notable inflection.

Optimus's next question gets him a look as if he suggested Cyclonus swap his current alt-mode for a unicycle.

"...No."

Why would you even ask that.

[sparkwhisperer]

"Of course I have." Tarn's thumb rubs across the mech's claws but his hand remains in place.

He thinks of his conversation with First Aid and the medic's instance that he couldn't possibly actually care about Sixshot. He finds himself having to quell a stab of anger. He really has missed him.

"Your companionship means quite a lot to me." As one of the only mechs on this planet that Tarn could dare call a friend, it stings that Sixshot would doubt him.

[sparkwhisperer]

Here comes the anger that seems to have been missing from the DJD Commander throughout this entire exchange.

Tarn's fist clench at his sides as he spins around to face First Aid.

"How dare you." He growls, taking a slow step forward. "I know this may be hard for you, but the Phase Sixer and I are friends. You may dislike it but that will not change how I feel about him, or how he may feel about me." Rage radiates from his field, but he keeps any hint of of his vocal talents concealed.