#ehehehe robits

[welcometomybraincomics]

I honestly love this animation so much. I get happy jitters every time I open my files and see it

I wanted to make one of his finials flick too, but Clip studio wouldn't let me go past 24 frames (timing wise I think, still learning the program) and I didn't have the energy to figure out how to make it work

hehehe figuring out the placement of the crumbs on the face took forever but it was so worth it, he looks so goofy

[hermitblurbs]

Continuation of this

Reconnecting ocular sensors…

Calibrating limbs…

All systems functional.

A wooden ceiling swims in and out of view as his eyes try to find a decent aperture for the location he’s in. He’s not used to these eyes.

“M-mb-!” The shout’s sudden, shorting out as his hearing connects. “Mum-o, S—r’s up!”

He sits up, both arms unexpectedly functional. His eyes refocus. In front of him is a man of average height, with scruffy, blonde hair and massive mechanical wings at his back and a matching smear of grease on his cheek. He’s got a pair of goggles sat on his head and some sort of bird-like gas mask hung around his throat. Very different from his usual clientele, but no matter.

His clockwork heart starts its steady ticking.

“Why hello there. May I interest you in one of many purchasable wares?” His voice is a little scratchy, a little broken and fading, but nothing a bit of oil can’t fix. The human turns his attention to him, and he notes black eyes and excitement.

“You speak?” He asks, a gleam in his drooping eyes. “Do you have a name?”

“You see, kind sir, I’m a little different than you,” he replies like it’s not obvious, “Names are for people. I am but a—“

“Great, it’s Scar now.”

Processing…

Firmware updated.

“In that case, pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Scar.”

The human’s grin is blinding.

“I’m Grian. There’s also Mumbo. You’ll know him when you see him; fantastic mustache.” Grian and mumbo. He tucks the names away next to the rhythmic ticking and in his files, overriding the details of old customers. Actually, speaking of,

“I’m not too used to making assumptions so you’ll have to be patient with me, but you don’t appear to be a customer.”

“You think,” Grian gasps, like he’s one of the androids that go around solving mysteries instead of a salesbot.

“Have you recently purchased me from a store? Or perhaps pillaged me from the back?” Wouldn’t be the first time. It happens more often than you’d think, with shops deeming him unusable after a simple bug. It’d explain the unfamiliarity with how he runs.

“Something like that!”

“In that case, I’ll give you a rundown of my functions and of proper robot care.” He goes to straighten his lapels, and finds metal beneath metal hands.

“Oh, no need to do that—wait for Mumbo to get here, I won’t remember a lick of it.”

“If you insist,” he mumbles idly, distracted by staring into the cavity of his own chest.

He recognizes most of his insides, which is, expectedly, a good thing. What’s less of a good thing is that what he does recognize is halfway hanging outside his body, and the rest he doesn’t recognize. Even his shell is a patchwork of a lighter tan metal (Scar, he gets the name now), the lines clean and lightly rippled like his mechanic had to laser cut away ripped edges.

Oil runs a little hotter through his limbs, and there’s a click and whirr of a fan kicking in. His heart ticks faster.

His heart’s the most concerning, brass and spring coiled, instead of the pistons he’s used to. It looks like he’d been torn apart and mauled, and while he’s used to being sent shop to shop, the notion that someone would rip his shell, pluck out his core and attempt to kill him before tossing him out is—

Firewall activated.

Oh, right. He’s not supposed to feel terror.

The ticking, which just started to blare in his ears, goes silent. His head dips and his eyes dull, the aperture spiraling out until all that’s left is pupil.

Rebooting…