heavyweaponsbot: (Drink energon - be strong like bull)
[Ironhide took one look at the little metal cuff dangling off of one big hand, and... promptly chewed on it. Hey, it was metal. He eats metal. More or less.]

[When that failed, he snarled at it, as if trying to intimidate it into submission. Again. A failure.]

[So, with nothing accomplished, the big Autobot stomped out to the tree he and Xanth rigged up as a punching bag. And that is where he can be found -- beating the tar out of the quintain.]



((ooc: Aara is flagged to be handcuffed. Anyone else is free to bother.))
heavyweaponsbot: (All Spark why would you even --)
[Granted, Ironhide is an alien robot. However, that does not mean he likes getting snow in places. Or the cold. He never has.]

[He was out stomping around the castle grounds when the snow suddenly hit. And by the time he gets inside, he's covered in white, slightly damp... and incredibly grouchy about the whole thing.]


Where is the nearest heat source? Going to rust if this all stays... like it is.
heavyweaponsbot: (Event | Ratchet's never looked angrier)
[The video opens on Ratchet.  Who looks exceedingly peeved.  Moreso than those familiar with him may have ever seen him.  In fact, he looks as if he'd very much like to rip his communicator in half.]

Whoever is in possession of my medic will inform me of his whereabouts.  Immediately!  Or I shall tear you apart!

Where has the captain put him!  Answer me!

[... well.  That's certainly not something Ratchet would ever say.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Human | BOTCOCK DAMMIT)
[When the comm is picked up, Ironhide starts out perfectly calm and composed.  Even so, there is an odd quality to his voice that isn't usually present.]

For the last time...

[And then he promptly bellows into the comms.]

MAKE UP YOUR MIND!  

Autobot!  I am Autobot!  Not... What is the meaning of this!  Bumblebee, Ratchet.  Respond.  Are you still... hmnf.  Is anyone else ... different?



((ooc: Thanks for the
humanizing, captain!))
heavyweaponsbot: (Human | NOT THE FUCKING TOOTHFARY)
[All the video shows is Ironhide scowling down into his comm.  He seems to have left the party, and is, instead, in his/Ratchet's room.  Propped up in bed.  Surrounded by pillows.  Oh yes, he is not a happy not-robot.]

...

I am still like this.  Why am I still like this.  It did not last this long the last time.
heavyweaponsbot: (I know you're back there Doc.)
[The video is accidental. What one can see, at first, is the tiny golden arm of a frog. Specifically, C4. The frog peers into the camera for a second before becoming bored and hopping off.

This leaves the screen clear to show off the rest of the room. Amidst the piles and piles of random objects, including but not limited to, a lampshade, books, a small blackboard, golf clubs, little bottles with plants inside, toy boats, a shovel, stuffed whale, soil samples neatly labeled, stuffed dog... and so on and so forth. All of it is very organized.

And, of course, sprawled out in the center of the room is a pile of black metal... and a pile of neon metal, stretched out on top. Ironhide has an arm draped over his companion, whose head is resting comfortably on his chest. Neither of them appear to be awake.

The feed cuts out... but the comm is still very much on.]
heavyweaponsbot: (This waking hell I am)
[Careful observers of transmissions may have noticed an absence of a big, black presence. Especially where one Mikaela Banes was concerned. In fact, he hasn't made a peep since he and Ratchet went to investigate the restaurants.

He is, however, making amends for it now. Crashing his way down the decks and hallways, attacking nearly anything that moves, leaving a wake of destruction in his path... With a large smear of neon paint on one fist...

Said careful observers may also notice the bit of jewel--hard to distinguish amidst the scars and bits of metal he's made of--set into the semi-circular piece on his helm.

Approach?]
heavyweaponsbot: (OH FUCK MY LIFE)
[Ironhide has never sounded this awkward or embarrassed in his entire time aboard the ship. He doesn't even seem able to quite get coherent words out of himself.]

I... I need... to find books. Certain... books. Of... questionable content. I... do not ask this lightly, I...

Need books about... human... mating. Do not ask.


Hate my life.





((ooc: Ironhide chucked Ratchet's books out the window. See? His wife is not happy.))
heavyweaponsbot: (Interesting.  Does it explode?)
Why is it that organic fuel constantly appears in my presence? I have neither desire, nor capacity, to ingest this... Eugh.

Anyone want this scrap?

[Ironhide is offering up his Valentines candies to anyone who wants them. The stuffed creature--resembling a bull terrier--he picked up, and examined, but decided it was going to a special home.

Anyone who wants candy is welcome to either knock on his door, or pester him over the comms.]
heavyweaponsbot: (OH FUCK MY LIFE)
Is there nowhere on this ship that is not freezing? Joints are rusting in this.

[Some scraping sounds over the coms - the old!bot is on the move, despite the creak and groan of a certain half-functional limb.]

Tell me there is somewhere free of this... holiday nonsense.

[He's wandering as he speaks, so feel free to run into him, if you so choose. ]



[ALSO.

If Ratchet ventures outside his door... this book is sitting outside it. He found it in the giant luggage pile.

If Mikaela pokes her head out... there's a pink sweater, about three sizes too small, in the snow outside her door.

If Blurr comes outside... there's a cube of energon. He was a little stumped on that one.

And if Gannondorf or Shockwave come out... there are a few scattered pieces of fish!corpse outside their doors.

It seems that, despite claiming to hate the afforementioned parties, someone made an attempt at peacemaking. Sort of. Which happens to coincide with Christmas.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Interesting.  Does it explode?)
. . .

[Awkward silence for a few moments.]

Anyone here know how to dispose of a corpse on this ship? Particularly one that is... falling apart...




((ooc: Yes, the fish that so traumatized Mikaela, and had taken up residence in Ironhide's bathtub... has passed on. He's not allowed pets.))
heavyweaponsbot: (Human | NOT THE FUCKING TOOTHFARY)
...

[The com clicks on. And there is a long... long silence. Some shifting in the background. Unlike previous transmissions, this one lacks the distinct creaking sounds of metal. At last, a voice speaks. While familiar, it is not... the same as before.]

...

I require... [another pause] I... need... hmn.

Clothing. Covering. Now.
heavyweaponsbot: (More than I can compute)
[The audio feed turns on, and for a moment, there's no sound, except for the shifting of metal. It would seem the maker of this transmission is "asleep", for lack of a better word. And then... there is the sound of tiny feet on metal.]

Ribbit!

[More metal shifting. A voice muttering something in Cybertronian. And then...]

Hmn? What...

[A pause.]

WHAT--GET! GET OFF OF ME! IMMEDIATELY!

[A loud thud!, some frantic ribbit-ing, and scraping of metal against the floor.]




((ooc: ... Yeah, C4 just keeps on making friends wherever he goes. Follows this.))
heavyweaponsbot: (Default)

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, DECEPTICON!

[Yes, it's Shockwave's voice, but it's doubtful anyone has ever heard him... shout like that... before.  He's more composed than this, right?]

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