We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
Bumblebee excitedly accepted the cube, excited because A: League was giving it to him and they were officially hanging out and drinking together like buddies and B: high-grade! League-style high-grade which he’d been warned of and naturally that only made him more inclined to have some. After all, if someone tells you not to do something – unless they are Optimus, or in a fight, or something equally dire – then doing the opposite (or at least considering it) was what individuality was all about. Also, apparently, it made your circuits buzz for hours. Bumblebee chirruped his thanks before happily cracking open the cube.
Cheerful, Bee lifted his drink in a toast. “Here’s to not getting bossed around and being yourself and stuff!”
Last Edit: Jul 3, 2012 22:03:09 GMT -5 by bumblebee
League couldn't help but note that Bumblebee might slowly becoming as stubborn as he was, not that this was a bad thing. Hiding a small smirk at that thought the mech gave a nod "Too right." and then tossed back the cube, downing the entire thing in a few gulps. With the near toxic fluid gone the submarine didn't seem all that affected, then again League's been drinking his own brew for so long it might as well be water, though he still preferred the taste over most other kinds of high-grade. Not that this would stop him from drinking other kinds, but he wouldn't enjoy it quite as much.
"Might want to drink it slow, it's a bit of a kicker if you aren't good and prepared." This warning might have come a bit late, but the mech figured Bee would notice this sooner or later, so it most likely wasn't that big of a deal.
Bumblebee couldn’t quite stifle the noise he made – this combination sound like a cough, a car backfiring, and a bad radio feedback wail. He’d downed the whole cube in a single go and the instant it hit the back of his intake there was an immediate chemical burst of fumes and a crackle of ion against the back of his throat and Bee knew a split second before it actually hit his tank that he was in some trouble. Then it was in his system. The scout doubled over immediately, clamping his hand over his mouth guard and making little coughing static sounds as the molten high-concentrate burn of high grade shot through his fuel lines. His head went hazy instantly, the overcharge fogging his neural processes and making loops of his logic processes.
Bee didn’t quite whimper but he was very close. “I’ll… remember that… next time.”
The larger mech watched Bumblebee, with a sigh he reached over and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder to help keep him from falling on the floor and passing out. League however couldn't help but let a little smile come to his face-plate, his own body was of course suffering from the affects of the high-grade, making him more easy going and rather loose. "Hah! If you can remember this at all that is." He teased with a small chuckle before leaning back to rest his back on the wall behind him.
“Holy slag am I drunk?” cried Bumblebee as his internal readouts tried to tell him that he was fragging dying then changed their mind and informed him that he was experiencing some serious neural cognition interference and he should probably get that looked at. He stared in blurry horror at the single empty cube, both terrified and extremely impressed. He wasn’t exactly an ex-gen and high-grade pro; he certainly could not hold his high-concentrate fuels like League, but holy Primus on a piston he wasn’t sure he could stand up straight. The little scout lifted his hand and experimentally rotated his arm and did a slow-motion punch.
“Holy slag! I’m drunk/wrecked/cratered/smashed!” He threw his hands up in despair. “I’m the lightest light-weight ever!”
He couldn't help it, League gave a chuckle at Bumblebee's panicked actions, when the miner was drunk he tended to be a rather jolly fellow, but buzzed he was just more prone to not being a complete slagger. "Hey Bee, would you like me to carry yah to your room?" Well League didn't know where the little bot's room was, but he was sure that if he couldn't find it he could just dump the scout off in the first closet he found and Bee wouldn't know or care about the difference.
“No! No way/nuh-uh/nope. You can’t get rid of me/us/me that easy,” said Bee, his self-signifiers slipping up a bit.
He attempted to stand up and succeeded only for a very brief moment before skewing wildly sideways into a wall. His internal readouts informed him belatedly that his gyro-synchronizers were malfunctioning and he would likely be unable to walk straight. Feeling miffed with his internal readouts, Bumblebee pushed himself off the wall and stood there, swaying slightly, and squinting around the room in a suspicious fashion. It all seemed to we wobbling in an alarming fashion. Well, scrap.
“I can get to my/our room,” he insisted, but made no move to do so. “I’m/we're/I'm fine. Really!”
Last Edit: Jul 15, 2012 19:39:30 GMT -5 by bumblebee
Pressing his servos on his knee-joints and then with a low grunt he pushed himself up onto his feet. It took him a moment to balance, but League was far too used to being buzzed for that to stop him for too long. The sub lumbered over to face the little scout "Sorry kid, but I'm bigger then you and in this state I'll be shocked if you can even crawl straight." the mech stated before leaning down a bit.
Holding out his massive arms, League reached for the smaller bot with every intent of slinging Bumblebee over his shoulder walking the smaller to someplace he could pass out and sleep this off.
Well scrap. In no time at all Bee found himself – despite his very loud protests to the contrary about how he just fine and ‘Put me down, League! Seriously! I’m fine!’ – slung over the submarine’s massive shoulder and hauled off down the hallways. Great. The scout flailed miserably and half-heartedly at the giant Bot’s back plating, doorwings drooping in defeat because it was pretty much useless. Even if he had his full faculties, League was giant and he had a firm grip on the back of his knees and back so he wasn’t going anywhere but where League took him.
“You dunno where our/my room is,” said Bee sullenly. Actually, he had no idea if that was true, but Bee certainly didn’t know where is room was right now so for some reason it seemed perfectly logical that League also would not know where this mysterious wonderland was.
The miner ignored the odd glances he got, walking around with a screaming scout can do that. If any tried to stop him the mech would just grumble "Pests are rather large this season." and press on passed them. League wandered the base a little, he was never much for exploring the place, but he figured Bee's room would be marked by bright yellow stripes or paint slathered across the door as the resulting fallout of a 'war' with Bluestreak.
After a while he got tired of searching and found the supply closet "Welcome to the drunk-tank Bee." the mech called out in an oddly cheerful tone as he pulled Bumblebee off his shoulder and set the little guy down in the closet. It was as good a place as any to stasis-sleep off some good high-grade, certainly it made some of the sub's former crash-sites look like a four star hotel in comparison.
Bee moped from where he’d been set down in a floppy heap, doorwings flicked flat against his black, EM field dour and unamused. “You suck,” he informed League.
This insult lost some of its sting however because the little scout wobbled badly and tipped back against a crate of spare parts for Ratchet’s medical and groundbridge equipment. Feeling very blurry and generally wobbling, the scout-bot supposed he’d just have to wait out his overcharge and deal with it because there was no way he was going through the effort of trying to get up and navigate the rest of the base right now. Also, he had no idea which storage closet this was. Resigned, Bee leaned back against the box and promptly dropped into recharge, briefly mumbling, somewhat affectionately:
With his 'job' done, League began to slow march back to his room, where he would get really tanked on high-grade and possibly sing a few songs before passing out. There was a small smile on his face plate as he imagined the taste of the sweet energon "Yo-ho, blow the man down..." he began to hum the rest of the old shanty as he lumbered off into the Autobot base.