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]

"It's just-- a gathering. A party, I guess. You can stay! You can stay, there's gonna be food and stuff!"

He notes the lack of noticeable Autobot or Decepticon sign on this strange robot. Maybe he's a NAIL? Who... doesn't know about parties.

[phase6kindofbot]

"Well, you're not dead here, are you," Sixshot grumbles in a half-hearted attempt at backpedalling. It wasn't his place to tell First Aid's friend something First Aid himself hadn't told him. That was the medic's secret to keep or tell.

Unfortunately, the cyber-cat was out of the bag now and there wasn't really a lot Sixshot can do about the fact. Not with the slow dawning of realization over Trailcutter's face.

[tsunclonus]

"Perhaps after the party...?"

Because Cyclonus is here and Optimus is here and honestly, talking to Cybertron seems a whole lot more important than chaperone this ridiculous bunch of adult children. Of which Cyclonus is totally not one of. Never mind that he can't even express his feelings without getting angry.

[planate]

RIP everyone they will be missed except perhaps Tarn and Pharma.

He enjoys it, leans into it and slides his arm around Mayday's own shoulder.

Then his over-big crown loses its balance and decides to slide forward lodge itself over his optics.

[imatruck]

Oh wait, there's a voice attached to this thing. Grimlock frowns down at what looks like a cute little dogbot. But the cute gets outweighed by the jerkitude this bot's projecting.

“What are you, the party police? You ain't Strongarm! I bet you have some stupid name too like...Fistchin. Hehe, yeah. Fistchin.”

[imatruck]

And this little bot's rather...scared. Almost Fixit-level scared. What's the deal with this mech?

“There will be if I can help it!”

Ok so this guy obviously won't throw a punch, “Wanna help me keep score?”

[imatruck]

“...uh yeah, you're a good bot too. With a huge...helm. Did you get someone to file that down for you?”

That counts as a compliment on both accounts. Hmmm what would be a responsible thing to do with a drunk Sideswipe.

“...you wanna fight? I'll go easy on ya.”

[phase6kindofbot]

Look, Grimlock, the small dog was still about waist height to you even curled up on the floor. Was this really the fellow you want to go pick a fight with?

"Fistchin's not the worst name."

... Or not.

The cute little dogbot seems to have the patience of a depressed saint, fortunately.

[officerjuicebox]

"Good, then..."

Maybe some part of his brain is realizing what he's done, even through the haze of all that alcohol. Because he trails off, looking awkwardly down at his partner, at a loss for what to say next.

So instead, he moves to lift his friend's chin up, looking at him for a moment or two, while his other hand keeps holding onto Prime, like it's afraid he's going to pull away and run.

"'Cause I'm pretty sure you're kinda... you're kinda... super unforgetable. You know what I mean?"

Wow, that was. Probably meant to go somewhere but it never did. Story of his life.

[fuckinstoplights]

"A... party?"

No, he has no idea what you're talking about, Pipes. Parties weren't included in his databanks. Why would they be? He was never supposed to see the outside world.

"I don't understand."

[planate]

"A gathering. A box-social. A hootananny. Almost a rave but not quite. You're welcome here, if that's what you're worried about."

Pipes has deemed it as Prom Queen.

[tsunclonus]

Cyclonus nods in understanding, though he's personally not going to try looking anything but dour.

"In my experience, when any of the crew of the Lost Light are involved, it's a good idea to remain on guard."

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.

[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.

[primebyproxy]

Magnus tries to avoid colliding with Pipes, but Pipes is moving fast and Magnus is mid-stride. So he ends up apologising and trying to pick up the much smaller Autobot instead.

And then he fumbles. Pipes wants what?

"We're – what?" Magnus sputters, blinking wide optics.

[sparkwhisperer]

After retrieving a cup of punch, Tarn makes his way over to the darkened corner of the forum that Sixshot seems to have melted into. Leaning against a building, Tarn takes a sip of his punch, casting a sidelong glance at the six changer.

"You haven't been by the base in some time. What has been keeping you so busy?”

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn glances over his shoulder at the sound of angry yelling and stomping, staring down at the tiny enraged medic pushing through the crowd.

“Oh. You again. It appears as if I was fortunate enough that you broke your glass before you had a chance to throw it on me this time.” He sighs, fixing himself a some punch. “And what has caught your ire today?"

[staygoldponybot]

One or five. Unfortunately, mechs their size need several kegs to get properly tanked, so he's barely feeling anything. Sentinel can't help but be disappointed, though not surprised in the least.

He stares at Magnus for a moment, then blinks owlishly. Ah. Yes. His brain knows this one.

"Magnus," he states in return. He shifts slightly. Maybe to make room. "I didn't expect to-" be approached by anyone, at all. "-see you here."

[planate]

"Dancing!" being knocked over hasn't dampened his enthusiasm in the slightest. He picks his crown up, though doesn't put it back on.

"You know how, right?"

[phase6kindofbot]

Sixshot watches Tarn approach, taking the time to draw himself up and gather his composure back together. Honestly, why was he even nervous about this? Tarn was a friend still. Just... not one that Sixshot has talked to that recently, but then the Phase Sixer was never the best at maintaining relations too well.

He will do better.

"The young Megatron put me to task finding the Autobot medics," Sixshot answers, raising his head to look at Tarn. "They fell into a hole not too far from here for about a week. I've also recently befriended one of said medics- and a very young super soldier who seems to have been made in an Institute."

'Befriending' might be too strong a word for the latter, actually.

"As for my lack of visiting, well, last time I was in the base, I only saw Spinister." He also isn't pointing out how he can smell traces of Pharma on Tarn's armor.

[lifepersists]

Just to make up for that comment, First Aid flicks his wet hand in Tarn's direction when he reaches him, splattering some glow in the dark engex on his plating.

"Nobody invited you," he hisses, his venting smelling of overcharge. His plating rattle in agitation and he reaches for Tarn's wrist to stop him from the punch.

"And keep your eyes off him."

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn looks down at the drops of engex as they splatter on his treads. The medic reeks of stale engex and bad decisions as he wraps his tiny fist wraps around Tarn's arm.

"Keep my eyes off of who exactly?"

He rips his arm out of the Autobot's weak grip, lifting the glass up to his mask.

[smallandincharge]

Ultra Magnus walks purposefully over to her double. She squints carefully at him for a moment, and then says, "Let me see if I can get this. You're... Datum, right?"

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn listens quietly as he sips at his drink.

"So you have been busy." He doesn't comment on his new Autobot medic friend. Yet.

"Spinister didn't mention seeing you. Perhaps he's still angry over the shower wall."