Catch me if you can-

He snorted. Alien - Who’s the alien here?

Dallas listened passively as his three digit fingers worked meticulously to find energon lines between plating and peel back the metal he needed. Too late to the main arteries, and he’d be dealing with re-refining his next fueling, and that was just never fun. Two of the relatively small, glass-like cylinders were soon filled with bright colored gel and a third was then attached to the siphon line.

“Y’aint never watched a medical officer do repairs?” He mused thoughtfully, then he answered: “We been recyclin’ fer eons. Don’t make no sense to let sumbody rust when they got a fuel pump yer brother needs-” With that, he sealed off the siphon and put the container along side the others.

“Don’t go touchin’ these, a’right?” He said before looking down to her arm. “Y’wanna make that int’a a little knife?” Both of his hands were holding up a piece of plating that simply needed a little help being separated from the micro-mesh that held it in place.

“Then we gotta get movin’.”

“Sorry, this thing’s got only one setting.” At least, that’s as far as she knew for her own physiology. The corner of her lips rose to a slight smirk, tapping loudly onto the exposed part of her arm. There were definitely ‘Bots who had more than one weapon per arm, but now they were either missing or long gone from existence.

Sophie then considered his previous question. She had watched Ratchet patch up some of the ‘Bots… once. Now that she thought about it, she really wished she had paid more attention before their secret organization got decommissioned.

So much for being a mechanic. But there’s no use looking back now.

Her attention returned to the present, and her eyes searched for an alternative, pseudo-knife. There’s not much luck, it seems, as they were really in the middle of no where. All there were was tire pieces and dirt. Lots and lots of dirt. Sophie shrugs, “Can’t you just, I dunno, carefully rip it apart?”

A harsh snort escaped him and he shook his helm before yanking the piece of plating away from what held it to the mech that no longer needed that gauntlet. It came from the mesh with minimal effort, but when he stood his leg gave a unfortunate creak and groan. That wasn’t supposed to happen...

“Got’a dive in mind?” He drawled as he readjusted his stance to gather up what he’d scrapped, his motions stiff.

#;humanity #;the babe #alright alright alright

timrigginz

(insp.)

raggedick

Humans of Philadelphia spotted me the other day and asked me for a photo and a story. I was happy to oblige them.

“When people meet me they often ask what I do for a living. Always finding it an interesting and ultimately difficult question to answer being that I do a lot, I decided to title myself a human extraordinaire. I don’t use the term to be arrogant or braggadocious, I don’t think I’m better than anyone. I just think to be human is extraordinary. The human condition we live, the people we encounter and surround ourselves with. The myriad of technological and natural environments we can find ourselves in. Our individual journeys all so similar yet so unique. I acquired my degree in communications back in 2009 and found it difficult to find my place in the job market. So rather than try and climb that ladder, I’ve been enjoying my experience as much as I can. I travel. I meet people. I spend my time relaxed and curios. My goals aren’t always clear and my focus can be a bit scattered but I blow with the breeze and find my existence in itself rather extraordinary. Do more of what makes you happy and less of what doesn’t.”

Instagram/Twitter - @ nikhampshire Www.nikhampshire.com

#;humanity #;people watching

carestoomvch-blog

Hey guys! Okay, so, in case you haven’t heard, me and the boys have been having quite a bit of a tough time. Thanks to school and providing for other people (and an asshole cat), my bank account has like… $80 bucks in it after rent. Now here’s the thing, that wouldn’t be a problem except for the fact that my job only pays its instructors once a month. Because of that, I’m offering icon commissions!

The idea is very simple. It’s $1 for every ten icons, unless you want me to do something special to them. It’s an extra ten cents to shape them, and another ten cents for textures or borders. (So ten icons with special shapes plus borders would be $1.20.) For every 100 icons, the price of 10 is reduced. So instead of $10 for 100 icons, it would only be $9!

I’ve also placed a “Buy Me a Coffee!” button on my sidebar, so feel free to donate there if it strikes your fancy.

Check below for examples of my work!

#;boosting

Waiting for her response, he gave a short not and then chuckled.

“So long’s I don’t rust’apart, we’re square,” Dallas replied as he wiggled a finger at her.

With his finger still in the space between them, a thought brought his attention across the way to the nearly decapitated Decepticon. Back before he knew anything about Earth or the Terran culture, the practice of scrapping obsolete ‘bots and their parts had been every-day. Why had that stopped?

Oh, right… The Autobots.

“But I think I know sum’body that can lend a hand,” he mused with a wry smile before hefting himself up and limping over to the dark metal. It was then that he started drawing small containers from seemingly nowhere and humming to himself. “So you ain’t scur’d of all this? I guess if ya’got sumkinda alloy eatin’ at yer arm… It was mighty dumb of ya to come after this fella.

“I like yer style.”

A single brow arched as she watched him approach the deceased Decepticon. After hearing his proposition, however, none of that had occurred to her before. Using another body to repair their own. The ‘Con was scrap metal, essentially. The thought of it was rather morbid to her, but it’s safe to say that the cannibal-like practice is uncommon in human society.

If she could trade her bionic arm with a flesh one, she would.

“You’d be surprised how unfazed I am with all this alien crap.” Sophie smirked and a shrug rolled off her shoulders. “Or maybe not.” She folded her arms across her chest as she shifted her weight to one side. As she continued to watch him extract the alloy, a curious thought suddenly flashed through her mind. One that she was surprised she hadn’t inquired before.

“Sooooo, you can just reuse someone else’s metal? Like a skin graft but… with a dead person’s skin?” she grimaced somewhat; the image that she imagined was simultaneously disturbing and intriguing. “At least you’re recycling.”

He snorted. Alien - Who’s the alien here?

Dallas listened passively as his three digit fingers worked meticulously to find energon lines between plating and peel back the metal he needed. Too late to the main arteries, and he’d be dealing with re-refining his next fueling, and that was just never fun. Two of the relatively small, glass-like cylinders were soon filled with bright colored gel and a third was then attached to the siphon line.

“Y’aint never watched a medical officer do repairs?” He mused thoughtfully, then he answered: “We been recyclin’ fer eons. Don’t make no sense to let sumbody rust when they got a fuel pump yer brother needs-” With that, he sealed off the siphon and put the container along side the others.

“Don’t go touchin’ these, a’right?” He said before looking down to her arm. “Y’wanna make that int’a a little knife?” Both of his hands were holding up a piece of plating that simply needed a little help being separated from the micro-mesh that held it in place.

“Then we gotta get movin’.”

#;humanity #;you gotta be KIDDIN me...

humans-of-seoul

Today’s microfashion

오늘의 패션

biker-queens

Biker Queen

#;earth disguises #cosmicrepairs #*eyebrow waggle*

howthefuckdotYRAN.jpeg

#;ooc #mun doodles #how does ur face work sir #u can see the TFP style in the back lmao

motorcycles-and-more

Triumph 675 Triple

#;earth disguises #gotta love the triumph

Dust swirled around his helm as he exvented, hauling himself back up so he could glare at her at nearly eye-level. Another cursory look was given to her distinctly Cybertronian alloy arm and then his expression softened a little.

“Ya’d go outta yer way t’ fiddle wit’ repairs?” He asked almost genuinely, ignoring the warnings and settling on his knees. This way at least, he only had to hunch over a little bit to keep from towering. “N’less you got sum’kinda hookup. I used m’ last repair kit, an’ I ain’t got a fancy Base t’ go back to.”

If she worked with NEST, she was certainly used to the best Optimus had to offer.

Fragger.

Fixing his leg was one thing; finding the tools and materials she needed was another. She pretty much lost all contact with the colleagues who were also with NEST. She left behind any hint or clue to a stable life. She was pretty much on the run for the past few years.

So she shrugs, prolonging the pause of silence until an adequate enough answer presented itself.

“Before shit hit the fan, I used to work at an auto shop. I may have some contacts there who could lend me the tools. I can’t say much about the metal though.” Transformium, as KSI would like to call it. Recalling that particular company, they probably still had a supply of the metal somewhere in their labs. Wherever that is.

“Are you still able to transform? Or drive, for that matter?”

Waiting for her response, he gave a short not and then chuckled.

“So long’s I don’t rust’apart, we’re square,” Dallas replied as he wiggled a finger at her.

With his finger still in the space between them, a thought brought his attention across the way to the nearly decapitated Decepticon. Back before he knew anything about Earth or the Terran culture, the practice of scrapping obsolete ‘bots and their parts had been every-day. Why had that stopped?

Oh, right... The Autobots.

“But I think I know sum’body that can lend a hand,” he mused with a wry smile before hefting himself up and limping over to the dark metal. It was then that he started drawing small containers from seemingly nowhere and humming to himself. “So you ain’t scur’d of all this? I guess if ya’got sumkinda alloy eatin’ at yer arm... It was mighty dumb of ya to come after this fella.

“I like yer style.”

#;motormouth #what? American music is catchy

If you need him, he’ll be blastin’ this as loud as he can.

motorcycles-and-more

BMW S1000RR

#;earth disguises #wait a minute... i know those colors...#arcee

“NEST,” he repeated quietly before she mentioned his leg. A harsh scoff was his response, pushing himself up to stand wobbly and dust himself off. “Pah-! ‘Fix ‘at for you’. I ain’t no hunk-a-Earth metal, Miss. Ya’ couldn’t possibl-”

Thud.

His attempt to walk was met with a blaring warning and a crumpling screech of metal as he fell face-first into the dirt, his rifle clattering to the side oh him.

Wow.

That was pretty embarrassing.

For a good moment, she just glared down at him with a raised brow. Her composure failed her as the corner of her lips twitched to an amused smirk. She covered her mouth with her fist, stifling a laugh.

“Yeah, okay, cowboy.” she rests her bionic hand onto her hip. “Like that’s gonna fix itself.”

Dust swirled around his helm as he exvented, hauling himself back up so he could glare at her at nearly eye-level. Another cursory look was given to her distinctly Cybertronian alloy arm and then his expression softened a little.

“Ya’d go outta yer way t’ fiddle wit’ repairs?” He asked almost genuinely, ignoring the warnings and settling on his knees. This way at least, he only had to hunch over a little bit to keep from towering. “N’less you got sum’kinda hookup. I used m’ last repair kit, an’ I ain’t got a fancy Base t’ go back to.”

If she worked with NEST, she was certainly used to the best Optimus had to offer.

Fragger.

A long, calculating stare was given to the girl, bright optics flickering from the arm in question back down the barrel of his rifle to her face. The body language and emotion in her voice was convincing, but it wasn’t until he let her finish talking that he took his turn with silence to make a decision.

So she was a rouge too, obviously for different reasons, but they both had common enemies it seemed. A warning flashed on his HUD of the damage to his leg and with a curt motion, the gun barrel was swung away from Sophie and he sat there looking at her a moment longer.

“Yer name really Sophie?” He drawled, faceplates drawn into a fierce frown despite his tone which was edged with cautious optimism. “You know ‘bout us? An’ what this means?” A harsh tap of metal against metal sounded as he pointed to the Autobrand on his shoulder.

Her gaze was directed to his insignia, and she slowly nodded. “You’re an Autobot. I used to work for NEST, so I’m very familiar with this kind of stuff.” the corner of her lips rose slightly to a wry smile. It was weird hearing herself say that out loud. Usually, she had to be careful with what she said around others. Not that she hasn’t taken that precaution already with him, but there had to be a good reason for keeping up his alternative appearance.

“I haven’t lied to you about my name. I really am Sophie.” she reassured. Her arms, or rather her fleshy one, grew tired and she brought them down to her sides. “I was a mechanic too, for weapons anyway. But I can try to fix that for you, if that’ll make things even between us.” Her head jerked towards his injured leg.

“NEST,” he repeated quietly before she mentioned his leg. A harsh scoff was his response, pushing himself up to stand wobbly and dust himself off. “Pah-! ‘Fix ‘at for you’. I ain’t no hunk-a-Earth metal, Miss. Ya’ couldn’t possibl-”

Thud.

His attempt to walk was met with a blaring warning and a crumpling screech of metal as he fell face-first into the dirt, his rifle clattering to the side oh him.