phase6kindofbot (
phase6kindofbot) wrote in
robothell2015-06-02 09:01 pm
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(no subject)
Who: Sixshot, Tarn and anyone.
Where: Some place!
When: The day after prom!
What: Sixshot trying to deal with the devastating aftermath of the spectacularly disastrous prom party.
Warnings: Awkward teenage super robot drama. Also discussions of sex?
For Tarn
Unfortunately for Sixshot's new found sense of shame, the six-former's sense of obligation was still stronger. It took a bit more motivation than usual to drag himself out of humiliated hiding, but he manages it and arrives a prim ten minutes early to the agreed meeting point.
And then he just sits.
And tries not to think too hard about the upcoming talk, quietly grateful that his canine face wasn't too expressive.
If Tarn tries to kill him today...
Honestly, Tarn wasn't going to kill him today because, frankly, Sixshot wasn't going to let him. He was not going to die being known for what happened last night, so help him Primus.
Open
The giant murderous space dog is attempting a new strategy: being small.
And hiding.
After shoving most of his mass into subspace, Sixshot was quickly being enlightened to the fact that the dead city actually had a surprising amount of hiding places. He'd never though about it before: Phase Sixers didn't hide after all. Ambush tactics were for the weaker.
On the other hand, Phase Sixers also were never trained to deal with social situations gone so awry that they would actually want to hide. Sixshot certainly never was, anyways.
He quietly curses Megatron's short-sightedness because, clearly, this was all his creator's fault, and shuffles deeper into the hole.
To most outsiders, he was barely more than a white nose sticking out of a wall.
Where: Some place!
When: The day after prom!
What: Sixshot trying to deal with the devastating aftermath of the spectacularly disastrous prom party.
Warnings: Awkward teenage super robot drama. Also discussions of sex?
For Tarn
Unfortunately for Sixshot's new found sense of shame, the six-former's sense of obligation was still stronger. It took a bit more motivation than usual to drag himself out of humiliated hiding, but he manages it and arrives a prim ten minutes early to the agreed meeting point.
And then he just sits.
And tries not to think too hard about the upcoming talk, quietly grateful that his canine face wasn't too expressive.
If Tarn tries to kill him today...
Honestly, Tarn wasn't going to kill him today because, frankly, Sixshot wasn't going to let him. He was not going to die being known for what happened last night, so help him Primus.
Open
The giant murderous space dog is attempting a new strategy: being small.
And hiding.
After shoving most of his mass into subspace, Sixshot was quickly being enlightened to the fact that the dead city actually had a surprising amount of hiding places. He'd never though about it before: Phase Sixers didn't hide after all. Ambush tactics were for the weaker.
On the other hand, Phase Sixers also were never trained to deal with social situations gone so awry that they would actually want to hide. Sixshot certainly never was, anyways.
He quietly curses Megatron's short-sightedness because, clearly, this was all his creator's fault, and shuffles deeper into the hole.
To most outsiders, he was barely more than a white nose sticking out of a wall.
no subject
"Look. You're going to do what you want--I know I sure as hell cant stop you. But as long as First Aid still wants you around, well. It's fine with me. For whatever that's worth."
no subject
Yeah, you know, in case Ratchet didn't figure out what First Aid and Tarn were fighting about last night.
Quietly, he palms his face and gets ready for Ratchet to kick him out.
no subject
"You should probably ask him that, Sixshot," he says. "Directly. In person. He'll pop back up, and you're still welcome here in the meantime. Please, make no mistake," and Ratchet's voice is extremely, unnervingly pleasant for a moment, "if you set out to deliberately hurt him, physically or otherwise, there won't be a single rock on this desiccated husk of a planet under which you'll be able to hide, and not just from me." He turns his glass slowly between his fingers, his expression easing. "But until then, I wouldn't worry about it so much."
no subject
"I don't... want to hurt him," he offers anxiously, wide-opticed and thoroughly unsettled. After a long moment he sighs air out his vents in a loud, unhappy huff and presses his palms over his optics.
"I think I should go," the Sixer utters, hands dropping to his lap. "He probably needs space more than me talking to him right now. Also, I need to go find a nice, deep hole to be embarrassed in for a while."
no subject
"...I believe you," he says quietly, his optics steady on Sixshot's face. "That means something to me, so I'll give you some advice--don't back off too much. He's liable to get into a funk if you do, and decide you're staying away because you don't want to see him anymore. At least have a conversation with him, please, sometime soon."