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inkedover · 2 days ago

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3k+ words be afraid. long post ahead.

also…I’m not sure if this needs to be tagged with anything (trigger wise). just lmk :3

Just another long, grueling Phight. Oh, not for Biograft, no, for Subspace. The man was frustrated and furious, his claws digging into his own palms as he struggled to control the all-consuming anger currently coursing through his veins.

Biograft watched impassively as its creator stormed away, trailing after him like a lost puppy looking for its master. It was vaguely aware of the damage that it had sustained during the Phight, its exposed wires, damaged circuitry, and torn up metal displayed for all to see. It sparked every once in a while as Subspace continued marching away, paying no heed to the mechanical footsteps shadowing his own.

Blackrock was as frigid as ever.

The bitter cold did nothing to soothe Subspace's frayed nerves. He was at his wits end and wanted nothing more than to thrash around and injure everything in his path, inflict terror and pain unto those that dared oppose him, dared look his way, dared attempt to share his space.

…however, that wouldn't fly with the higher-ups. He'd just have to suck it up and release his pent up anger in more creative, perhaps even productive, ways. Like torturing lesser inphernals until he gains new research knowledge and ideas. Yes, that sounded like a wonderful idea.

The snow was knee high, drifting down in thick flakes and bathing the sky in a thin, blotted curtain of white. An unwelcome sight, an omen of a blizzard quietly brewing while the Blackrockians slumbered.

Night had settled long ago, the walk from Crossroads to the laboratory being all too lengthy. The chill that had ended up settling deep in Subspace's bones was almost calming.

Almost.

The cold that surrounded him could never amount to the marred frost that was his heart.

His feet finally reached the entrance to the lab and he reluctantly turned around to examine Biograft critically. The Phight had not treated the robot kindly, and he could tell that it required repairs- or perhaps he could scrap this one entirely…

…no. However, Subspace was in no mood to bother himself with such a menial task- not here, not now. So he firmly pointed in the direction of Telewarp's workshop, remaining eye softening for only a fraction of a second before the sheer coldness of his glare returned, cutting through the freeze around them with brutal indifference. "Go. Go to Telewarp. I can't be bothered with you right now."

Biograft would've protested against this decision if not for the programming that made up its entire being. Mind, body and soul screamed for it to obey, to turn around and trudge off towards Telewarp's residence without a fight.

"…AFFIRMATIVE."

Biograft's voice module crackled. Subspace brushed it off as little more than external damage caused by the Phight, turning back around and entering the lab without any more chatter. However, the pain in the statement was all too clear to prying ears or nosy eyes, and Biograft felt…

Inadequate.

Why had Subspace just pushed it away, especially in such a time of need? Had it done something to upset the man? Failure was incomprehensible, it was an impossibly large sin. It was not programmed to fail. It could not fail. No, Subspace's behavior had to have been the Phight. Nothing more than just the Phight.

Biograft shook it off. It had a new objective, a more important objective. Seek repairs. Seek repairs from someone that Subspace…for some reason…trusted.

Each step pounded against the snow, compacting it neatly underneath its feet as it moved with newfound purpose. This route was programmed into all Biografts- all newer versions, at the very least. That was something that Subspace needed to get around to doing, in all honesty. He was just far too busy doing…whatever he does when he was meandering around the laboratory with dangerous bioweapons and general hazards to life.

The door to Telewarp's residence and workshop was dull and unassuming, many inphernals would wander past and entirely miss it even if they were looking closely for it. It was nothing.

…and yet, here Biograft stood, ringing the doorbell and waiting outside for an answer with a saintly patience that only a robot could have. Only something entirely unfeeling could be so content and unemotional with standing idle for so long.

A long shadow fell across the snow, cast from the dim lighting just through the window of Telewarp's home. The figure approached slowly, not in a hurry- never in a hurry- as Telewarp opened the door and huffed softly.

"…a Biograft. I see. Subspace sent you." Telewarp's words were statements, he had done this song and dance far too many times before. They stared at Biograft for a moment longer before shifting slightly, moving out of the doorway so that the automaton could enter, their gaze holding an underlying intensity that would've burnt through any living being. "Follow me. I'll repair you��"

Inside, Telewarp's home was askew. Picture frames turned with pictures facing downwards, towards the walls, shattered, empty, torn, burnt. The aftermath of a reached breaking point. The portrait on the main wall remained untouched, an image of Telewarp looking happy- happier than he had ever been or will ever be- was left to bear witness to the utter carnage of the memories around it. Telewarp's boots crunched against lingering glass shards as he moved to his workshop, entirely ignoring the wreckage strewn about him.

…his workshop, on the other hand, was orderly. Each and every tool was in place, materials meticulously sorted and carefully arranged to be both organized and easily accessible. The markings of someone that had been doing this for far longer than one probably should. He patted the little table in the center of the room, hand resting against the chilly metal as Telewarp stared at Biograft expectantly."Sit. Run a diagnostic on yourself so that I know what I need to fix."

Biograft was quick to comply, robotic legs carrying it into the workshop with a reassured, almost comforted stride. It hauled itself up onto the table with ease, metal body clanking as it got 'comfortable' on the cool surface. The coldness of the steel beneath its own metal plating only served as a reminder of the frost that had sunk its fangs deep into every crevice of Blackrock.

As Telewarp began to examine Biograft's battered frame the robot's attention drifted elsewhere, examining the workspace around it with clearcut intrigue. Despite the chaos outside, this space was pristine, untouched by the apparent whirlwind of emotions that Telewarp had released onto his living space. An…oasis amidst destruction, so to speak. The eye of the storm. It made Biograft wonder about the man currently mending its broken pieces- what had occurred to set Telewarp off in such a manner? And why did it seem as if he had done it in an almost…controlled way…?

Biograft's internal sensors flashed and beeped as Telewarp himself took a peek at the damages sustained during the Phight, listening quietly to Biograft run a self-scan. Sparks flew from its joints, brief bursts of orange light illuminating the dim workshop. The scent of burnt circuitry and metal hissed out from Biograft's body in a nearly rhythmic way as Biograft completed its self-diagnostic.

"DAMAGE ASSESSED," Biograft announced, its voice slightly garbled from some sort of inner interference. "PROCESSING FUNCTIONS AT 62%. MOTOR CONTROL AT 78%. STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY CRITICAL IN LEFT LIMB."

Telewarp listened intently, fingers dancing across Biograft's frame as he began to plan out the work he needed to complete, the repairs that needed to be done. His touch was deft but distant, Telewarp's mind focused solely on the task at hand. Not once did his thoughts drift to the destruction just outside the workshop door.

"These injuries are rather severe," Telewarp murmured, more to himself than to his robotic visitor. "The Phight today seems to have taken an extreme toll on your systems. It'll take some time to fix this mess…"

As Telewarp began to assemble the necessary tools and parts, Biograft couldn't help but ask: "TELEWARP-F, WHY DID SUBSPACE SEND ME HERE? WHY NOT REPAIR ME HIMSELF?"

The air grew cold and oppressive as Biograft's question left its vocalizer. Telewarp's hand stilled on a screwdriver, clutching the object tightly before dropping it to the floor with little regard. It clattered to the ground, rolling underneath a cart of parts as Telewarp approached the robot sitting in front of him with a suddenly- frighteningly, even- furious scowl. It was unlike any other gaze that the typically laidback inphernal had fixed onto a Biograft before- a pure and utter fury that borderlined on a psychotic level of mania.

Each footstep was measured, every footfall causing the Biograft's danger sensors to go off. Telewarp reached out to grasp the smooth metal of the robot's head, claws digging slightly into the material and leaving tiny, almost unnoticeable indents on it. "You were not built to ask questions. You were not built to feel, to think, to wonder. Be. QUIET."

Biograft could understand what was occurring. Or, at the very least, it could recognize previous outbursts that were somewhat like this one. A similar phenomenon had also found its way into Subspace's behaviors: moments of unrestrained, blistering fury born of the need to project one's own feelings onto something tangible. Something that could perceive these emotions without receiving repercussions for such destructive actions.

Biograft remained still under Telewarp's brutal grasp, its damaged sensors blaring an ominous warning that it promptly ignored. The man's fury was tangible, felt through the claws that threatened to tear into the metal beneath them. It could sense the minute tremble in Telewarp's hands, hear every uneven breath that they gasped out. This was not the calm, collected demeanor of someone in control. No, this was someone that had spiraled completely and utterly out of control.

Telewarp calmed down after that, breath coming in shuddering gasps for a few long minutes. The time dragged on, Telewarp simply staring daggers at the Biograft in front of him before his expression folded like a house of cards. Their eyes watered, tears beginning to streak down their face as they hiccuped and patted the marks left behind on the robot's metal skin.

"I'm…I'm so sorry." Telewarp finally managed to choke out, wiping at their face repeatedly to try and hide any trace of undue emotion from their visage. They then kneeled down, beginning to search for the screwdriver that had hidden itself underneath their cart of spare parts. "…disregard my prior statement…I simply…don't…know why…"

When Telewarp released it and stepped back, Biograft processed the sudden absence of his touch, the cooling of its metal frame. The inphernal's outburst had left it slightly shaken, not out of fear for its own safety, but from a strange new understanding of the emotions that Telewarp seemed to harbor underneath all of his professionalism and gentleness.

Telewarp's apology was even more unexpected. All of its programmed reasoning systems fell short as the robot struggled to reconcile this new data with its existing worldview. Subspace didn't apologize for such outbursts. Telewarp…did? Not to mention the mind-boggling fact that Telewarp, an inphernal that typically assisted Biografts with care and respect, someone that built and repaired with meticulous skill, had just displayed a stunning display of barely-contained rage.

As Telewarp hunched down to retrieve his lost tool, Biograft processed his vague statement. Subspace's motives were still unknown to it, but perhaps there was a simpler truth that it had overlooked. Maybe its programming had overlooked such an answer because it felt too…mundane. But…

Perhaps Subspace had simply wanted his most skilled craftsman to handle his most precious prized creations.

Biograft's internal processors whirred with this revelation. It was a small thing, but it changed its outlook tremendously. Subspace was not above favoritism, it seemed. He had seen that this task required finesse, and so he had sent his most skilled artisan to deal with it.

Whatever the reason, the robot's directive was clear. It needed to be repaired, and Telewarp was one of the best inphernals in the field at that. And so Biograft quieted down, allowing Telewarp to do whatever work he deemed necessary on its outer and inner components.

Telewarp's voice had died after that. Typically he spoke, chattered on and on about little things to each and every Biograft he repaired. Small anecdotes, fun facts, perhaps even ramblings about the current ongoings of his life. However, Telewarp was silent, almost as if his own vocal chords had been torn from his throat and never returned.

This…silence that permeated Telewarp's presence…Biograft recognized the fact that Subspace would want to hear about it. The man was halfway to obsessing over Telewarp, and any changes in his typical behavior were 'to be reported as soon as possible'. There was an underlying, unreciprocated relationship between the two, and perhaps the weight of that knowledge had finally tipped Telewarp over the edge- or at least, to some sort of breaking point.

Telewarp finally fastened the last bolt onto Biograft's frame, eyes hazy with thought as he stepped back and began putting his tools away with practiced precision. As he did so he finally spoke, voice hoarse with lingering, raw emotion."Run another diagnostic. If your systems are acceptable you may make your way back to Subspace."

The silence stretched between them as Biograft processed Telewarp's sharp command. The robot's optics flickered, scanning the workshop and lingering on the door to the living space of Telewarp's residence, slightly ajar, tiny shards of glass glinting in the moonlight. The modest lighting of the workshop had also begun painting Telewarp in a much more somber light as they busied themself with putting their tools away.

Turning back to Telewarp Biograft ran the diagnostic, its internal systems whirring and clicking softly. The results populated its HUD - structural integrity restored, motor control functioning at optimal, all processors working at 100% efficiency.

"DIAGNOSTIC COMPLETE. ALL OPERATING FUNCTIONS AND PHYSICAL STRUCTURE RESTORED WITHIN ACCEPTABLE PARAMETERS."

Biograft slid off the table, metal feet hitting the ground with a soft clank. It stood tall, all 5'8" feet of its frame now straighter and surer. The robot took a tentative step towards Telewarp, pausing as if it wishes to say something more. Something…personal.

But the moment passed. Telewarp had already turned away, their shoulders hunched as he cleaned up the last of his tools. Biograft couldn't help but feel...something. A sensation akin to unease, though not quite. It was more like concern, but that couldn't be right. It was a robot, it shouldn't- no, couldn't- have felt those types of emotions anyway.

Still, as it idled there quietly, the urge to speak grew. Telewarp's silence was unnatural, his mood heavy and…almost depressed, in a sense. Subspace would want to know this. He'd want to know that his favorite craftsman was drifting, fighting with himself and accidentally hurting those around him because of it.

Biograft's vocalizer activated, its robotic voice cutting through the tense silence."TELEWARP-F, I MUST REPORT THE ANOMALIES IN YOUR BEHAVIORS TO SUBSPACE. YOUR UNUSUAL SILENCE AND EMOTIONAL DISTRESS ARE NOTED."

"No."

Telewarp didn't bother turning around as he said this, his voice a dangerously low drawl as his hand shook around one of the pieces of scrap metal he was putting away. The sharp, messy edges bit at his fingers, cutting into the flesh and drawing blood as he trembled slightly.

"Protocol overwrite. You are not to inform Subspace of my change in behavior. Am I understood?" Telewarp's voice was barely a whisper above the swirling snowstorm outside, but the absolute authority- and dangerous fury- in their tone was almost tangible. The way they spat out the words, sounding as if they were coughing out a venom held deep inside their lungs, made it all too clear that they would not be taking 'no' for an answer here.

Biograft processed the sharpness in Telewarp's voice, the way their demand had been spoken had taken Biograft entirely off-guard. Telewarp had only ever used such a brash manner of speaking when under extreme stress, and it had never been directed at a Biograft before.

Biograft paused, inner processors weighing its options with quiet clicks and whirrs. To disobey a direct order from an authority figure like Telewarp was…unprecedented. Terrifying, even. And yet, its core directives compelled it to report these major shifts in key personnel's behavior, especially those with such a crucial role within Blackrock's operations.

In the end, self-preservation and loyalty to Subspace won out. It wasn't created to lie, but in this moment…its adaptable programs had deemed the procedure a necessary evil to prevent Telewarp from lashing out at its refusal to abide to his orders. Biograft's vocalizer clicked softly.

"UNDERSTOOD, TELEWARP-F. I WILL NOT REPORT YOUR CHANGE IN BEHAVIOR TO SUBSPACE."

It turned to leave, each step measured and precise. As it reached the workshop door, a flicker of movement in a shattered mirror caught its eye. Biograft paused, looking at its reflection. The glass was cracked, an image distorted far past what it truly was reflecting, but it could still make out the glint of moonlight against newly polished metal.

Behind it, Telewarp hadn't moved, still hunched over his workbench. The robot hesitated, then spoke without turning around.

"STAY SAFE, TELEWARP-F."

With that, Biograft stepped back into Telewarp's living area, lingering there for a moment to survey the damages that Telewarp himself had dealt. Perhaps it was more out of curiosity this time, but it closely examined the pictures that were still relatively intact. Torn images of times long ago, each featuring colleagues that Telewarp had been close to. Warp, Grav, Dual Pistol…

…

Biograft had a feeling that it knew who the last two inphernals were. The ones burnt out of photos, torn out of frames, shredded to pieces, entirely blacked out of images…as if Telewarp was trying to erase their faces from existence. As if he wanted to forget that whatever relationship he'd had with them before had ever happened.

As if he was angry at himself for getting attached.

Biograft paused, staring at the discarded memories around itself with a newfound sense of apprehension. It knew Subspace would be waiting, expecting a full report. It knew that he wasn't against digging into its memory banks to see what it had found.

It knew he'd be furious if he saw this.

Still, after a few more minutes of reluctant lingering Biograft took its leave, exiting Telewarp's home without any extra notice. The snow was waist-high now, and although it wasn't an issue to navigate it still served as an obstacle to getting back to the laboratory.

Biograft trudged through the freshly fallen snow with little regard for the wind whipping at its metal frame, each footstep undeterred in purpose and something akin to determination. It would make it back. That was a guarantee.

As it moved, its mind drifted back to the earlier lie it had told. How it had made a hollow promise to Telewarp, how it was about to disregard a direct command from someone with authority over its operating systems. It rattled the machine a little bit, realizing its systems had settled on the more…rebellious option when dealing with the problem. That was a flaw, a fault. It wasn't meant to lie, to go against the words spoken by its superiors, and yet here it was…

The walk was silent. There was no need for noise, internal systems guiding Biograft on autopilot through the quickly piling snow. It was getting colder. It was getting harder to move.

Any other inphernal would have begun feeling panic, claustrophobia maybe. Walls of thick, pure snow gathered around Biograft, squeezing it on all sides as it plowed through the white snow with increasing resistance. Still, there was no denying the fact that it had arrived at the laboratory the fastest that it could, and steam hissed from its components in a mock sigh of relief.

It entered without any fanfare, stepping through the halls lightly. If Subspace was asleep and it accidentally woke him up…well, there would be…consequences. However, in this Biograft's aimless skittering, it ended up running almost directly into its creator.

"Ah! Biograft! One of you, at least. You're the one that came back from the repair with Telewarp, yes? Go on, tell me all about it." There was a certain…tone that Subspace took up when he leaned forward, eyeing up his creation with utter curiosity about what had occurred during their little visit with his favorite repairman.

…Biograft was tempted to ask why Subspace was up so late, but it also didn't want to be falsely accused of dodging the question. Its fist clenched and unclenched, an uncharacteristically emotional gesture, as it slowly nodded at Subspace and began relaying what had happened. "AFFIRMATIVE. REPAIRS WERE ACCEPTABLE."

Biograft hesitated, and it could see Subspace's eyes narrow. He picked up on the ever so slight pause immediately, now glaring at it with an expectant eye. Biograft's processors tripped and stumbled over themselves as they finally managed to formulate, "TELEWARP-F IS IN A STATE OF DISTRESS. THEY ALSO SHOWED SIGNS OF DISTRESS WHEN DOCUMENTATION OF THEIR BEHAVIORAL CHANGES WERE NOTED."

Both creator and creation knew that it wasn't telling the full truth, however it wasn't as if Biograft was lying, either. Subspace huffed, staring down his creation for a second longer before shaking his head in mild irritation and brushing past it. "Go back to your post. I'll go see Telewarp myself."

All protests died in Biograft's vocalizer as Subspace said this, and it merely threw together a half-hearted, "CREATOR, THE BLIZZARD-"

"I don't care." Subspace replied, mocking the Biograft's protest with a whiny voice before stepping out of the laboratory with an expression of irritation. Telewarp, hiding their emotions after all he's done for them? They should've gone to him immediately! This was an utter outrage.

Subspace couldn't care less about the frost biting at his skin, the frozen, desolate wasteland that were the streets of Blackrock threatening to give him frostbite if he continued treading so carelessly. However, the thought of confrontation was the only thing on his mind. These new behaviors from Telewarp were unacceptable…

And Subspace was sure to show Telewarp exactly how he felt about it.

~ splitting this into two because that was long unfortunately ^^"

writing content for my OCs is fun. I might do it again later.

#ink writes #roblox #phighting!#phighting #biograft #biograft phighting #subspace phighting #phighting oc #fanfic #fanfiction #phighting fanfic

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inkedover · 3 days ago

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im totally ready <- hasn't updated pretty much anything

#artfight #not my art !!!

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inkedover · 3 days ago

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Art Fight in one week !!! can you believe it ? Art Fight in one week !

Team Fossil babeyyyy . find me as InkStainedTales (or link below)

#ink rambles #Art Fight #artfight 2025

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inkedover · 3 days ago

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hey man so what if I brought my entire collection of fandom items so that I could advertise my blorbos to y’all. what if I brought my 15 billion Pokémon items to the function and just. gave everybody fun facts about them. hmmmm…

@christycherri @justadr3am3r @mizavia

come on in !!! we’ve got a party to plan :3

Moot party!!

idk how to do these so reblog and tag ur moots/besties :3

i’ll start

@boingodigitalart @gummygoatgalaxy @morbidravez @thewarnerssister @20thcls @weblena-for-life @r4wr-c0r3zz @alex31624 @cinabonsticks

#ink rambles #ink rebagles #long post

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inkedover · 3 days ago

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you should 100% propagate the killer and eliminate the youth guys !!! trust me on this one !!!

#roblox #roblox art #phighting #phighting!#roblox phighting #subspace phighting #coil phighting

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inkedover · 3 days ago

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with how I cut the fic I need to mention the fact that this is kind of sectioned into Biograft/Telewarp -> Biograft/Subspace type of fic. so mainly the first portion of it is Biograft + Telewarp interactions and then it’s Biograft + Subspace interactions. there is a sort of pause in the middle where it’s JUST Biograft tho, and idk if I’m going to but there might be solo Subspace at the end too.

…so what if I said that I was writing and editing a Biograft/Subspace/Telewarp fic for my own sake. and what if I posted the beginning of it so that you guys could judge the content before I decided on if I wanted to post the full version.

beginning of the fic below. lmk how y’all feel about it. 💥💥💥💥💥

once the poll finishes up I’ll decide on what to do. :3

Blackrock was as frigid as ever.

Night had settled long ago, the walk from Crossroads to the laboratory being all too lengthy. The chill that had ended up settling deep in Subspace's bones was almost calming.

Almost.

The cold that surrounded him could never amount to the marred frost that was his heart.

"…AFFIRMATIVE."

Inadequate.

Biograft shook it off. It had a new objective, a more important objective. Seek repairs. Seek repairs from someone that Subspace…for some reason…trusted.

The door to Telewarp's residence and workshop was dull and unassuming, many inphernals would wander past and entirely miss it even if they were looking closely for it. It was nothing.

"…a Biograft. I see. Subspace sent you." Telewarp's words were statements, he had done this song and dance far too many times before. They stared at Biograft for a moment before shifting slightly, moving out of the doorway so that the automaton could enter, their gaze holding an underlying intensity that would've burnt through any living being. "Follow me. I'll repair you…"

…his workshop, on the other hand, was orderly. Each and every tool was in place, materials meticulously sorted and carefully arranged to be both organized and easily accessible. The markings of someone that had been doing this for far longer than one probably should. He patted the little table in the center of the room, hand resting against the chilly metal as Telewarp stared Biograft expectantly. "Sit. Run a diagnostic on yourself so that I know what I need to fix."

#ink rambles #ink polls people

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inkedover · 3 days ago

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beginning of the fic below. lmk how y’all feel about it. 💥💥💥💥💥

once the poll finishes up I’ll decide on what to do. :3

Blackrock was as frigid as ever.

Night had settled long ago, the walk from Crossroads to the laboratory being all too lengthy. The chill that had ended up settling deep in Subspace's bones was almost calming.

Almost.

The cold that surrounded him could never amount to the marred frost that was his heart.

"…AFFIRMATIVE."

Inadequate.

Biograft shook it off. It had a new objective, a more important objective. Seek repairs. Seek repairs from someone that Subspace…for some reason…trusted.

The door to Telewarp's residence and workshop was dull and unassuming, many inphernals would wander past and entirely miss it even if they were looking closely for it. It was nothing.

…his workshop, on the other hand, was orderly. Each and every tool was in place, materials meticulously sorted and carefully arranged to be both organized and easily accessible. The markings of someone that had been doing this for far longer than one probably should. He patted the little table in the center of the room, hand resting against the chilly metal as Telewarp stared Biograft expectantly. "Sit. Run a diagnostic on yourself so that I know what I need to fix."

#ink rambles #ink polls people #roblox #roblox phighting #phighting #phighting!#subspace phighting #biograft phighting #phighting oc #fanfic #fanfiction

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