Break out the hair curlers and makeup kits!
WHO: Cheetor/yourlittleguy; Metabee/battlebeetlebot; Bumblebee/therighttune; Waspinator/chewtoyoffate. Any other denizens of the Autobase are free to join!
WHERE: The Autobase.
WHEN: Backdated to last Thursday because I am a failure.
WARNINGS: I can't promise I'm not going to make a lot of Mean Girls references here.
SUMMARY: Cheetor's been having a bad month. Fortunately, he has some new friends to try and cheer him up.
FORMAT: Paragraph
So far during his tenure at The City, Cheetor had been miserably unsuccessful at making friends. He'd managed to reconnect with Rattrap, but now he was off recovering somewhere, and probably pretty angry with Cheetor anyway. He'd regarded the Autobots as sort of background allies to be contacted in situations of dire need. So it was sort of a surprise to him that two of their number would invite him over and extend the invitation to live there if he liked it. Cheetor had managed to adapt to the solitude, but that wasn't to say that he liked it. He missed that age where he had friends, even if they had all been running from a maniac who was trying to scrub them off the face of Cybertron. So he had more or less jumped at the opportunity--but it was a very stately, dignified jump. He had grown up, after all.
And now here he was, at the front door of the Autobase. There was something surreal about this business of showing up at the front door of your ancestors, who are just as human as you now (some of them from a different time stream).
But, like Optimus said, you had to adapt.
So he reached out and knocked on the door.
WHERE: The Autobase.
WHEN: Backdated to last Thursday because I am a failure.
WARNINGS: I can't promise I'm not going to make a lot of Mean Girls references here.
SUMMARY: Cheetor's been having a bad month. Fortunately, he has some new friends to try and cheer him up.
FORMAT: Paragraph
So far during his tenure at The City, Cheetor had been miserably unsuccessful at making friends. He'd managed to reconnect with Rattrap, but now he was off recovering somewhere, and probably pretty angry with Cheetor anyway. He'd regarded the Autobots as sort of background allies to be contacted in situations of dire need. So it was sort of a surprise to him that two of their number would invite him over and extend the invitation to live there if he liked it. Cheetor had managed to adapt to the solitude, but that wasn't to say that he liked it. He missed that age where he had friends, even if they had all been running from a maniac who was trying to scrub them off the face of Cybertron. So he had more or less jumped at the opportunity--but it was a very stately, dignified jump. He had grown up, after all.
And now here he was, at the front door of the Autobase. There was something surreal about this business of showing up at the front door of your ancestors, who are just as human as you now (some of them from a different time stream).
But, like Optimus said, you had to adapt.
So he reached out and knocked on the door.