paperpepperfrog

[paperpepperfrog]

Be clingy.

I don't know what went wrong with Shockwave, but it seems he got infected with the Tailgate dwarfism virus lol

Aaaand, the evil heron fell on the tired crane like snow on the head. Literally:)

[paperpepperfrog]

I've accumulated so many fucHONKing sketches, but I'm so fucHONKing lazy to post something.

So I just...

DaYdReAmInG

[paperpepperfrog]

You will like this @whylarin haha

Imagine you're Pharma in TF1. Imagine that you're one of the best surgeons in Iacon but there's still this one colleague that's just better than you. You try your hardest to be where he is, to meet him on equal grounds but he just won't look your way, no matter what you do. You're acting nonchalant about it, of course, indifferent even, but it still eats you on the inside every waking minute. And then, one day... Sentinel Prime sends one of his underlinks to relay a message - he's in need of your services.

You've done it, you think to yourself, you've achieved something the other couldn't. You're recognized for your skills and outstanding work and you'll be tending to the Prime himself! At last, Ratchet will have no choice but to finally acknowledge your skills too! Right?

... what do you mean removing cogs from bots that aren't even online yet...?

[paperpepperfrog]

Senator Shockw....stein Declares Helicopter Hunting Season---

[paperpepperfrog]

Get sleep.

(I'm already dreaming about them, it seems like I'm back in 2018 lol)

+Dirty sketch

Shhh they are sleeping🤫

@whylarin

[paperpepperfrog]

Drink the damn juice carefully.

who's gonna stop me

[paperpepperfrog]

just milf Whirl, nothing interesting

.....Wait, WHAT?

[paperpepperfrog]

Joke about the spotlight.

@whylarin

[paperpepperfrog]

Ratchet.

My precious little baby

[paperpepperfrog]

From my heart and kidneys I give you hands of others

[paperpepperfrog]

If this year isn't better than the last five, don't invite me.;D

[paperpepperfrog]

Busy.

Whirl cannot be trusted with the health of a little person.

[paperpepperfrog]

Keep quiet, says the denial of reality!

- Well? Your name. - The claw passed so close to the doctor’s face that Pharma could swear that his crumpled and battered reflection was visible in it.

- I uh... Pharma..? - If he had a nickel for every time he saw an alien this close, he would have two nickels. It's not much, but he's almost surprised it happened twice. And they had never asked him his name before... Well, aliens.

- Alright, “Uh Pharma”... - The surgeon did not recognize what the helicopter wanted to say, since a bullet whistled very close to his captor’s helmet.

- Oops, break's over, time to move on, bwehehehehe. - The man was pushed back under the yellow glass and - oh my God - Pharma just realized who the alien was going to fight against.

Whirl was definitely something that was made to kill.

Graceful and... Deadly.

The glass slammed shut and took several shots - without even cracking! - and the surprisingly stable claws flashed dangerously.

Somewhere under the medic’s feet, mechanisms began to sound and the cabin shook.

- STOP! - Pharma was surprised that he had not yet vomited, randomly tumbling in the cockpit and scratching the chair. - STOP-STOP-STOP, DON'T YOU DARE! These are pilots! This is a Mecha project! These are not enemies! You can't!!!

- And what? - This... This... Thing. It was moving too fast. Too unpredictable, too... natural, in a way that pilots did not move, as no one moved, perhaps with the exception of piloting aces like Jazz. Although Pharma would have been happier if the alien, Whirl, had turned out to be less good and the frantic shaking, cacophony of sounds and flashes in front of the doctor’s face had stopped. - They shoot, I shoot, it's a fair deal.

The shots struck the transparent surface again. What Whirl was good at was fighting shots.

- You're crazy! - What did he need to be happy? Shootout? With your own?? No, no, and no again, Pharma would give anything right now just to be on solid ground and for the headache to stop and for his stomach to stop performing aerobatic maneuvers. The sour taste of bile ran through my throat again.

(If only I didn’t throw up right in the cockpit).

This is all a nightmare, terrible, alcohol-induced dream. And he will definitely wake up with his face in the reports or in the first-aid post, and he will lash out at Ambulon, who is minding his own business, for sure... And no aliens who shoot at pilots, no frantic pirouettes, no...

- OH YES, DOCTOR, SAY IT AGAIN! - Loud, metallic laughter and the screech of machine guns, laughter and shots, this...

God.

Fuck.

How many times did Pharma want to apply for a damn transfer to a morgue somewhere, apparently he would appear there as a patient. If there is at least something left of it that can be put in a storage room.

- YOU ARE PSYCHO-PSYCHO-PSYCHO!!! LET ME OUT IMMEDIATELY!

If it was just a furious fur, Pharma would have punched it in the stuffing.

Although, here she is, right in front of him.

Pale fingers grabbed the armrests and Pharma kicked with all his might, and then howled in pain.The instrument panel, clearly copied from some earthly technology, turned out to be stronger and did not even move. Attempts to turn the steering wheel were also unsuccessful.

- Hey, don't bother me. I'm almost collected four-of-a-kind!

Pharma should pray that he stays alive.

God, please...

Mecha au by @keferon

[paperpepperfrog]

Yes, I'm.

*Enjoy hyperfixation*

I'm so fucking cringe

*Enjoy hyperfixation*

[paperpepperfrog]

Keep quiet, rotten brain!

The morning was terrible. His back ached from the awkward sleeping position, his brain felt funny, buzzing and heavy, the dryness in his mouth was complemented by the taste of not the freshest slop. A bright light was shining in his eyes, an empty bottle was rustling somewhere under his feet.

Pharma groaned quietly, leaning over the side of the open cabin and feeling how bile and the remains of yesterday's dinner were rising in his throat. In vain he decided that it would be a good idea for him to drink a liter of far from the weakest alcohol in a day. As his consciousness lazily noted, he was almost close to a lethal dose - and my God, he regretted that he did not take a larger bottle, maybe if he died, it would be easier.

This was undoubtedly his worst day off in the last couple of months. Perhaps even a decade.

He cleared his throat and wiped it with the sleeve of his surgical gown - what's wrong? - tears welling up in his eyes, the doctor leaned back on the armrest of his chair.

So strange and funny, why is he in a helicopter? This isn't even a medical service vehicle, this is...

- Organics are funny.

A slightly creaky and metallic-sounding voice mixed with mirth sounded out of nowhere. Well, that's what it seemed. An incomprehensible accent slightly scratched his ears, but who cares about accents these days?

Pharma raised his head.

The yellow eyepiece in the black mouth of the turquoise box on his thick neck squinted mockingly (??? What the hell ???) at the scream of the man who almost fell overboard. A claw the size of Pharma himself grabbed the man by the collar with micrometer precision and held him in a half-hovering (Oh my God, the ground is at least ten meters away) state, holding the organic again, clearing his stomach and coughing heart-rendingly.

- ...And loud. Ugh, how did you fit that in, that's disgusting. Can't your fuel tanks process alcohol?

Fragments of last night came back to me with difficulty. Yellow optics mistaken for Shockwave and a stream of complaints and reports with a disgusting smell. But wait, the Shockwave-or-no mech wasn't supposed to... Be able to talk?

Oh, shit.

It's AN alien.

Like the thing that brought Jazz back to base after he went missing.

Like the other red-and-white, talkative thing they were studying in Delta.

This thing looked even weirder than the first mech blueprints - WAY FUCKING STRANGER.

– What are you gaping at? Yeah, I'm awesome, I won't argue. - It's laughing. Damn it, it's laughing and Pharma is sure that the sound will make his head explode. - Although last time you didn't even deign to say hello. You just whined and screamed endlessly about how shitty your boss is and how sick you are of the eternal deaths at your hands. It sounds crazy, I like it.

The claws grabbed the man more comfortably, holding him by the torso. At that moment, Pharma undoubtedly regretted that he decided to drink himself into unconsciousness. The blue sky definitely wanted to kill him - and he even knows how it should be. His hands treacherously stopped obeying and it was very easy to imagine that these sharp claws would slam shut, dividing him into two equal halves.

- I had to run and shoot, so that you wouldn't be returned to the "terrible job" for the "psychopath with delusional ideas and delusions of grandeur" ha-ha-ha. — The alien narrowed his eyes and stretched his neck. Whoever designed this creature was a genius - metal shouldn't be able to express emotions THAT way! Especially with limited facial functions! — The name is Whirl. And you?

Pharma is no longer sure - should he be surprised that this thing has a name?

Mecha au by @keferon

2/???

[paperpepperfrog]

Keep quiet, common sense!

Something sour-tart, salty, with tobacco smoke, expensive cognac and ink.

And alcohol.

Pharma hates this smell. Ink, alcohol, medical instruments soaked in alcohol, a table covered in the blood of another "patient", reports-reports-reports with fresh stamps on white paper - oh God, how he hates it.

Pharma doesn't make mistakes.

But he feels that this won't last forever. To feel death and to step closer and closer to the edge of the abyss, feeling under the skin that any minute now - and that's it, Icarus will burn his wax wings on the sun and fall, smashing to the ground into a thousand small bloody pieces.

"Never making mistakes" Pharma will start making mistakes on purpose. Oh, and Pharma...

He wants this.

Stop the suffering of a man on the operating table - after all, if enough people die, the project will be closed.

Right?

RIGHT???

How many people must die for humanity to understand that this is a dead end?

He knew the first pilots personally.

And each time it becomes harder and harder to realize that they are still people. They are a resource, even though they look like people.

Or maybe people are a resource? But Pharma is also a person. Or is he still a resource? A useful medical unit?

What happens when he exhausts himself and dies?

After all, people are so...

Fragile.

Too complicated to not go crazy. Too hard to figure out without a bottle.

The bottle ran out and fell to the floor. Pharma got another one.

He uncorked it, winced.

Pharma doesn't know how to drink. The cigarette fell to the bottom of the glass. Pharma doesn't need it anymore.

A yellow eye in the window.

Pharma mistook it for a lantern.

For the Moon.

For the reflection of a desk lamp in the glass.

And only after a long and painful reflection - for the yellow glow of the mask of the leading scientist and his boss.

- It's your fault! - Blind anger prevented him from understanding that in front of him was not Shockwave, not even a person, but something else. Not a person. Although, who cares.

Even if it was a glitch of drunken consciousness. Drinking in silence and solitude was unpleasant.

- What is it this time, Shockwave? Reports? Operations? Another idiot pilot turned into a mess during a fight? A new set of cannon fodder???

Pharma is not embarrassed by the fact that he is firmly held by a claw. In the end, it was very much in the spirit of Shockwave - to make a non-standard mech and hide it. A failed model or something else - it does not matter.

"It's still Shockwave."

When did Pharma manage to end up in the helicopter cockpit? The pilot's seat turned out to be not very spacious. The legs stick out of the raised window. Pharma was satisfied with that.

The bottle is finished.

Unlike the complaints.

Tf mecha au by @keferon

1/???

[paperpepperfrog]

they are crazy