[Things have died down. And now there's nothing going on but pounding, pouring rain ( Read more... )

[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 ( Read more... )

[The voice that suddenly booms over the journals should be familiar to some.  And, if not, it's certainly loud and attention-getting.  Someone is clearly unhappy.]

This... is a lie. It must be. It cannot be possible -- not again!

[A pause.  There's some mechanical shifting while the party in question tries to remain calm.  There is also a sound ( Read more... )

[Sand in his joints, a gaping hole in his chest, no medic, no other Autobots, no way home... a tiny rodent following him around everywhere...

And now.

Snow.]

...

I hate this place.

[The big Autobot is standing in front of his pod, kicking his feet, and trying to shake the snow out of gaps in his armor, shuddering all the while.]

... Ow! Rocks...?

[Silence - except for the familiar creaking and groaning of metal as Ironhide looks around. When he speaks, the gravely, aged voice is back. He does sound more... groggy... than usual. "Hungover", would be a better word.]

What... just happened...? Why... am I in... the bar?

[And as it all dawns on him. Crap, crap, crap.]
( Read more... )