Weapons Enthusiast

Ah don't suffer fools an' got no patience fer punks. Ah'll help a 'bot in need, but ya Decepticreeps better scram.

M'here ta win a war, not play nice with the multiverse.


{Indipendent G1/IDW Ironhide Rp/Ask blog}

Bar Mates

therisingdarkness:

 

Good question.

What was he doing?

Dealing with confusion and something close to the effects of shadowplay in the way his personality core seemed to be shifting away from ‘deadly warlord’ and closer to ‘even-tempered diplomat’, and it wasn’t that he minded the change so much as he did not understand how to let go of his former identity in order to adopt the new—a conversation far too in-depth for the level of discourse one normally had in a bar full of drunks.

A conversation he wasn’t sure he wanted to have with an Autobot, even one like this.

“I never liked drinking alone,” Megatron said with a silver smile. “Not many mecha want to be seen sharing a booth with the leader of the Decepticons—fear and uncertainty keep my subordinates distant, which is how I prefer to run my ship, but it does make downtime uninteresting.”

He could always ask Starscream, or Soundwave, or any of the officers, really—Nightfall was always up for a drink, but she was also always up for a frag—but he couldn’t deny that drinking with one’s subordinates was inherently different than drinking with the enemy.

There was the element of danger and the prospect of conversation unrestrained by the social constructs of Decepticon hierarchy. There was the promise of transparency, which Megatron looked forward to. Only Starscream gave him what he wanted, but now there was the bond and he wasn’t sure he could trust anything that came out of his Second’s mouth for entirely different reasons.

“And you,” he continued, raising his hand to signal for another cube, “you find my alternate so detestable, yet myself less threatening? “

Fear and uncertainty, huh?

Hide took a sip of his drink, just a sip. He still didn’t know how the foreign highgrade would affect him and getting overcharged with the leader of the Decepticons was nowhere near the veteran’s list of things to do. Much less his bucket list. Getting drunk now would render filling out the damn thing pointless. Making a whole afternoon spent with Ratchet ‘reevaluating’ his life and future, being told he wasn’t cleared for duty until the stupid thing was filled out, a bigger waste of time than it already had been.

Pheh.

With Ratchet hermitting away in the medbay, Wheeljack spending his time building Primus knows what, and all the other officer’s being a bunch of young hoodlums, Ironhide was a little short on drinking partners. No, wrong way to phrase it. There plenty ‘bots on base he could share a cube or six with. But there was a difference between a good time drinking and partying. Something the youngsters on base had yet to learn.

"If ya wanted ta kill meh, ya wouldn’t o’ brought meh ta no rinky dink bar ta do it," he finally responded.

Ironhide wanted to say Megatron would have just lifted his leg a little higher if the ‘con had wanted to offline him, take one wrong step, but the veteran had too much faith in his own abilities. Millions of years fighting a civil-war and he wasn’t about to go down by getting stepped on. One well aimed shot from that canon though…

Fear and uncertainty, huh?

It would take more than a forty-some-foot pointy toothed slagger to frighten a seasoned war vet. here was plenty uncertainty in Hide’s EM field, however. He kept it wrapped around himself, refusing to put the confusion he felt on full broadcast for the Decepticon to feel. On the Ark no Autobot beyond Spec-Ops and Prowl kept their fields to themselves. In such close nit quarters there was really no point in it. 

"S’ides," a corner of his lip components quirk up. "Ya jus’ finished a whole sentence without shoutin’ curses, so Ah reckon ya’ve got a bit more processin’ power an’ mah Megatron.”

Which makes ya a Pit o’ a lot more dangerous.

cadhx:

AK <3 7.62 x 39mm

❝ You will defend my family, or die. ❞

- Optimus Prime, Transformers: Age of Extinction (via magicalnuetella)

seeker-nightfall

♟: Patching up a wound

Were there a wrench anywhere in the vicinity Ironhide would have hit her with it. Stupid, reckless, stupid. The veteran had no problem telling the femme so. Curses and insults flying past his lips, grey face twisted in rage only the idiocy of the younger generation seemed able to get out of him.

"The Pit were ya thinkin’?" He barked. Whether it was the third or fourth time he didn’t remember. 

Scarred servos were steady as they placed patches on the seeker’s helm, blue energon oozing past his digits. Nightfall, for once, not saying anything in return. No scathing remarks or acid sarcasm, only tired glares and the baring of denta. Idjit had lost too much energon for the usual fire she threw his way.

The war vet pulled a cloth out of subspace, one used to clean his guns after a battle, clear away the energon of when an enemy had gotten to close and there’d been . It would work well enough to clean away at the deep gash the femme had somehow managed to give herself. 

The lil’ slagger refusing to tell him exactly how only fueled his justifiable anger. 

He placed the final patch on her helm; she’d still have to see a real medic, but it would hold her long enough to clean the wound to her pride. Cause Ironhide knew damn well the feisty Decepticon wouldn’t go anywhere near a medic until it was mended. 

A sigh escaped his vocalizer, his spark was exhausted. Jump started and pulsing rapidly after the scare Nightfall had given him. 

"Ya wanna tell meh what happened?" He asked, gruff voice betraying the worry his anger masked. For the tenth or eleventh time; he didn’t know. 

Nonsexual acts of Intimacy - Select from the following for my muse to respond to…

barbedwireandroses:

♔ : Finding your muse wearing their clothes
♕: Holding hands
♖: Having their hair washed by your muse
♗: Your muse falling asleep with their head in my muse’s lap.
♘: Cuddling in a blanket fort
♙: Sharing a bed
♚: Head scratches
♛: Sharing a dessert
♜: Shoulder rubs
♝: Reading a book together
♞: Caring for each other while ill (specify which party is which)
♟: Patching up a wound
♤: Taking a bath together
♧: Your muse playing with their hair
♡: Accidentally falling asleep together
♢: Forehead or cheek kisses
♠: Your muse adjusting their jewelry/neck tie/ etc.
♣: Back scratches
♥: Your muse crying about something
♦: Slow dancing

There’s a punk ‘round here. Ah can feel it.

thestarswereyoung:

 

[Amused chuckling.] ~ωнαтєνєя уσυ ѕαу, ℓιттℓє тяανєℓєя. ~ [A pause.]

~ιт ιѕ тяυє ι αм вυт тнє ¢яυ∂є, ѕтσηє αятιƒα¢т υηєαятнє∂ ву ¢υяισυѕ нαη∂ѕ. му αﻭє нαѕ ραѕѕє∂ αη∂ ι αм вυт α ωση∂єя, вυт ι ƒєαя ησт тσ ƒa¢є тнє ѕυη.~

Hmph.

Ah ain’t nearly s’ol’ s’ya an’ Ah’ve done s’epted the fact that Ah’m a geaser. But Pit, other an’ Trion an’ Kup, Ah ain’t never met ‘nother ‘bot tickin’ that’s mah senior. 

thestarswereyoung:

gonnaironyourhide:

thestarswereyoung:

gonnaironyourhide started following you

~тιηу, яє∂ ѕραякℓιηﻭ.~

Ya must ‘ave the wrong mech.

~ℓιттℓє тяανєℓєя ιѕ ρσυтιηﻭ. ∂σєѕ нє яємємвєя ωнєη тнє ѕтαяѕ ωєяє уσυηﻭ?~

Doin’ no such thin’. Che, ya sound like one o’ ‘em ol’ foggies. An’ Ah ‘member the stars bein’ more o’ mechlins’ an’ younglins’.

thestarswereyoung:

gonnaironyourhide started following you

~тιηу, яє∂ ѕραякℓιηﻭ.~

Ya must ‘ave the wrong mech.

thesass-staysbetweenus:

gonnaironyourhide:

Yer the one that gets all angry an’ socially awkward, right?

I’m not socially awkward..

image

I just hate everyone, basically..

Mmhm.

Whatever makes ya feel better, sweetspark.

viwan themes