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ROOOOOBOT PROOOOM
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.
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.
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.
no subject
Well. That was something.
First Aid's hand smacks Tarn's hard enough the clang was audible. It left his own hand stinging, but for the most part he doesn't even notice it because that? Those words? That hurt, and he was too drunk to keep it to himself or figure out why.
"You want me to believe you?" That can't be true. Tarn's just trying to get a rise out of him. "And even if it was true, how does that make you special? You'd open your legs for anyone who wears a Decepticon badge and can say 'Kill all Autobots'."
no subject
“I’m sorry that you seem to be so deeply in denial, First Aid but I assure you that it’s true. He is very talented with his tongue; I can practically feel it in my port if I think hard enough on it.” He takes an almost threatening step forward, close enough to the medic that their plating brushed. “And his chord... It is exceptionally thick, even without the knot. I don’t think i’ve ever been so thoroughly filled. Ask him yourself if you don’t believe me. I’m sure he will be happy to tell you how I made him moan in pleasure.”
He gives First Aid a little push, not nearly with all of his strength, but enough to make an impact.
“As for your wild accusation…at least I stick to mechs in my own faction. Next thing you know you’ll be in the berth with Overlord."
no subject
He loses his footing slightly at the push, stumbling back a step and dropping his drink, but he's back up in Tarn's face right after, pushing back.
"Yeah? He'd need to be big to feel anything from your loose port. Oral's probably the only way he'd get aroused enough to fuck you."
His fans were spinning loudly, trying to fight off the heating of his frame. He pushes again, using a shoulder.
"Overlord's not even the bottom of the barrel. Unlike you he doesn't need a mask to cover his ugly face."
no subject
He gives the medic a shake. “Clearly my face hasn’t repulsed Sixshot enough to deter him. He seemed to be enjoying it just fine at the time.”
If Tarn were sober enough to be even slightly aware of the words spewing from his mouth, he may be mortified. As it stands he’s too angry to have any sort of filter. His processor spins, and his frame hisses and creaks; vents trying to expel as much of the excess heat as possible.
no subject
If he was thinking about anything besides punching that stupid mask off the mech's head, he'd wonder how Tarn knew his name.
"You mean enjoying the mask on your face? It's like the equivalent of fucking someone with a bag over their head, scrapheap! You have to dress up like some bad cosplay of Megatron to get him to fuck you!"
He hisses, steam venting out from between his plates as the condensation burns off. He was thinking about it, no matter how much he tried not to; the mental image of them together was burned into his thoughts. He swallows, his throat tight, vocalizer spitting static.
"I bet you had to beg!"
no subject
“Oh I was begging but not how you may think. He was already deep inside me by that point, fucking me against a wall with reckless abandon. I ached for days.”
His determination in dislodging First Aid increases with his anger.
“If you think I can properly kiss someone with a mask over my face you give me far to much credit. We trusted each other enough to bare our faces.” Tarn feels his tanks turn slightly at the word ‘trust’. His attention briefly flits away to remember his conversation with the Six Changer, before snapping back to the situation at hand. “Surely if you are as close as you claim he has done the same for you."
What a fucking mess.
no subject
"You-- You high class prostitute! Cesspool!"
He's never even seen Sixshot's face. As far as he's concerned, as he knows him at least, he's a wolf. He knows that he's a six changer -- everyone knows that -- but he's never seen it. The Phase Sixer brings him candy and lays with him, but Tarn boasts that he slept with him.
It was a horrible feeling being bested by Tarn.
"I'll make you fragging ache for days!" Nope. He was done trading insults. Instead he's going to swing his arm in an undercut, using his height to his advantage to slam his knuckles into the metal covering Tarn's valve.
no subject
it takes only seconds for Tarn to come to his senses, and when he does he pins the medic with a fierce glare that promises pain.
In a flash he grabs First Aid by the throat and slams him hard against the punch table. He draws back a powerful fist, aiming for the Autobot's faceplate.
no subject
"Stop." Shifting, carefully so as not to injure Tarn, he places his free foreleg in front of First Aid, keeping them from seeing each other.
"Just... stop."
There wasn't anything else he could think to say. Sixshot was mortified beyond any ability to properly express it right now.
no subject
The next blow didn't come though. Tarn's fingers scrape his neck as he's pushed off him, but First Aid finds himself staring up at the wolf mech's frame rather than a first. His vocalizer spits out static and his hand goes to his neck as the hot rush of humiliation washes over him, turning his optics away from Sixshot.
He didn't really want to see him and he does his best to slide off the table and make a retreat while the six changer was reoccupied with Tarn.
no subject
Tarn thrashes and kicks under Sixshot's paw as he tries to get back at First Aid. It isn't over. He needs to get his shot in.
Blinding mortification has still not set in.
He begins clawing angrily at the Phase Sixer's plating when he sees the medic trying to slink away.
"You coward! Get back here!"
no subject
Priorities set, the Sixer tries to gently flip the DJD commander over onto his belly so that he could pick the smaller mech up by his tank threads, careful not to bite down too hard. Transporting violently aggressive mechs around was nothing new at least.
no subject
"Who's the actual coward here?!"
First Aid turns around in his retreat and comes right back over, taking advantage of Sixshot's flipping of the mech so he can kick up some dust and dirt into Tarn's face before the Phase Sixer can lift him. He loses his balance with the kick, wobbles, and lands on his aft.
no subject
The sudden poof of dust that hits him in the face surprises him. He tries to lash while the medic was near but his reaction time is slowed by the effects of the engex. Instead, as Sixshot lifts him gently off the ground by one of his treads, he manages to twist ever so slightly in his grip, swinging his arm at First Aid only to miss completely and punch the sixformer square in the jaw with all of his might.
Realizing what he had done, Tarn’s eye’s widen and tanks turn as he sputters a drunken apology, only to promptly purge half processed engex in his own mask.
no subject
The sudden 'CLONG' of a fist against his jaw nearly makes Sixshot drop Tarn, a startled yip escaping him. Fortunately for the other Decepticon, his friend manages not to, otherwise he'd be face first in even more puke.
"I think," he says gingerly, half muffled by tank treads. "That both of you have drunk enough for tonight."
no subject
Despite falling heavily on his aft enough it throbs with soreness, the sight of Tarn throwing up in his mask was worth it. First Aid dissolves into sadistic, drunken giggles, because at least if he can laugh at the mech's pain he can forget about his own.
"He can't hold his engex. What a sloppy mess!"
no subject
Instead, Tarn just hangs limply in Sixshot’s jaws, trying not to move and agitate the spinning in his processor. Vomit drips steadily from the bottom of his mask onto his chest plate.
no subject
Please?
"You should go get one of the other medics to look you over," he says to First Aid as he starts dragging Tarn away towards a spot on the outskirts of the party.
no subject
"It's good to see you too!"
There's just something about Sixshot's behavior and the comment that makes First Aid's field flare with anger again. His fists ball up and he stuggles to his feet, stumbling from his inebriation.
"I don't need a medic. You have fun fragging your whore!"
And then his anger crashed and burned and the light started streaming from his optics. He transforms into his ambulance mode, the sirens silent, but the red lights flickering.