#none of this is jokes by the way not even the roomba thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud. Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or: Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing. tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. slice of life fluff, light smut. explicit (but only at the end).

tags / warnings. mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc. 7.6k.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif, @papillonsgf, and @yeoldontknow 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note. i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this. it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless. as always, feedback means a lot!

You and forethought aren’t close friends. You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree. You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is. Careful consideration? Thoughtful patience? None of that exists for you. At least, not when you really, really want something.

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this. Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid. By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment. Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to. When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed. (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right?

“Everyone’s fully booked.” The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial. (You don’t blame her.) By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal. You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue. “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice? Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable. Well-known. Considered one of the best in the city. Surely their apprentice would be fine. Just less seasoned, not as experienced.

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter. “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall. “Last room on the left. His name’s Jungkook. His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.” It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves. Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told.

“Jungkook?” There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight. (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.) It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else.

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting: one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits. Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine. A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall; one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it. There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath. All in all, very homey. Reminiscent of your own apartment.)

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space. “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples.

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for. Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe. It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin. “Are you okay?” He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way. Good for him, but worse for you.

He’s so cute. Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.” You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete. “Um— I was told you might have some time? For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering? You’re never shy. Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess. People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!” Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder. He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway. “Yeah, I’ve got time. Come in.” Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek; the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip; each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks. “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no. You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook? He was that. In spades.

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table. It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display. “I’ve got a pretty big selection.”

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him. This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation.

“So—” He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen. You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt. It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion; it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles. He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling. The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity. “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.” It really is. You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink. “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question. Of course it did. It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally. “Like crazy, but it was worth it. This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—” He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.

“A piece of cake?” You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you. (It doesn’t. You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap. “Do any of these interest you?” He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash. There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf). They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.” It catches your eye more than the others have. Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines. A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do. “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.” He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled; you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion. A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen. “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy. Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no. You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though. You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it. You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life. There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,” you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.

“Do you have your ID?” You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form. “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come.

Alone, the nerves set in. You’re actually doing this. Getting a tattoo. Putting something permanent on your body. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap. Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come. (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.)

(But had you really made up your mind? Was this going to be it? It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise. It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!” Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope. You eye it curiously. “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”

He’s really thought of everything. Or the shop has. Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?” It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand. (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.)

You hadn’t thought about that. You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away. “My arm?”

“Upper? Forearm?” There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative. He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you.

“Tricep area, I think? Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.” Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same. “I’m kidding. That was cheesy. But I’m sure it’ll look fine. We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?”

“That sounds good.” A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement.

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake: wearing a turtleneck. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like. Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon? Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)?

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule. Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside. Whatever you’d prefer.”

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill. You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way? He was probably desensitized.)

“It’s fine.” You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly. Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though. Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater. It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath. Two.

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him. “All right. Let’s do this.”

“So, which arm?” He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello.

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers. You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.” It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror. “It’s so pretty.”

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face. “Thanks.” He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful. “What do you think?”

“This is it. Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool. As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee.

“All right. We’ll shave you down and get started. You like the colours, right?” Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart. It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes. (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.) He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him. “Hop on up. Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace. It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?” You’d misheard that, right?

“Your skin. You’re sparkling.” He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.

“Oh.” Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly. “It’s my soap.”

“Sparkle soap?” Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure. He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before. (Which, fair.)

“It’s this specialty holiday soap. It has pigment in it.”

“That’s cool.” He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm. “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree. It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does. Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot. “Thanks.”

“Was that weird? I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.”

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle. “Ready?”

Honestly, you’re not sure. Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog. Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue. “I think so.”

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee.

“All right—”“ The incessant buzzing stops. Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel. “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you. Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.)

“Can I see?” You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah, go ahead. Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right. You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet. It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you.

“Careful!” It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.

“Sorry, sorry.” You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede. Everything straightens out quickly enough. “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?” He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall. “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art. “I’m fine.” That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.” The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open. Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words, “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention. It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours. It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.

“You like?”

“I love.” You’d stare at it for hours, if you could. Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie. “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head. Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose. Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into. “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one. It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink. (You half expect him not to answer; you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.)

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.

“So, what’re you thinking?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking. Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history. You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece. “A sleeve?”

That surprises him. His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously. “Like, a full sleeve?” It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable. “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high. “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,” he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea. “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.” He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up. For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing. (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.) “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan. It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there. He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions. It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin. A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep. Another takes up the entirety of your forearm. There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi. It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch. You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.” Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap. “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers. Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat. He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up. Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.

“You mean we did it,” you return, giddy like a child.

“Ah, right.” The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled. “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey! Screw you!” You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more. It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head. Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow. You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm. That in itself had hurt like a biiitch; you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?” He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to. It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.

“Yes, you are.” You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares. This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together. (Not that you’d complain. You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful. “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration. “You wouldn’t dare.” You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.

“Wouldn’t I? I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed? You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation. Had he mentioned it previously? Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain? No, you would’ve remembered that. You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.” How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea. You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway. Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago. (God, your memory is good. If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.) “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.

“Gonna miss me?”

Would it be inappropriate to say yes? Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question. You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own. “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,” he answers, offering honesty to your reticence. “You can still send me funny photos though.”

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile. “I guess you’re right. Will you still be tattooing?” It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know. You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.” Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin. “Actually, where I got most of mine done.” You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith. He’s finally come full circle. You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to. It wouldn’t feel right otherwise. “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,” he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair. It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn. “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,” you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder. You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go. It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk. “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you. It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available. (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.) “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black. You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?” He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to. (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?) “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended. “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you. “Hey, I don’t judge. You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there. Used your own impulsive history against you. “I would never.”

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what? Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him. “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth. There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up. You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”

“Really?” You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face. “Then why don’t you have one?” He has a million others as it is: a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs. (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)

“And hide all this?” One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home. “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual. “But I’m cuter. It’d be a shame if it were me. You…” The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean. (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.) “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him.

“I’m kidding.” You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries. A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke. “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them? Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was. Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met. It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?” The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.

Were you? You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really? You can’t?” You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it. But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously. It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears. “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”

Had he? Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall. Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of; accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff). Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought. You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,” you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.

“I think you’re cute,” he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff. The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week. The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb. (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer. “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.” Where the confidence comes from, who knows. You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering. It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits.

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go.

Then he does the last thing you expect: shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.

(His lips are so soft. A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate. Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him. French fries and beer and his Chapstick.)

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.)

“You just kissed me.” It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.” Speaking the words into existence feels bad; you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.

“I am.” At least he’s realistic. It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay.

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose.

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next. (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass. Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers. An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,” the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials. You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation.

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof. The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin. You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous. It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left.

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed. He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders. You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,” he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity. It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,” you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped. You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was. As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though. You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow. He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?” You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder. Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again. (You’re proud of that. It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine. You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness. Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad. Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around. It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper. He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror. “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals. Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care. Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre. You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life. It means so much - like progressing to the next level.

Which, you suppose it is. This is a fresh start for you. A new beginning in a new city.

“Proud of you,” he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips. He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago. A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,” you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual. “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that. You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome. From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this: a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had; to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that. Made it worth it in ways you had never considered. Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?” He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself. It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.” The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?” You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets. It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that. He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised. “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?” Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job?

(It truthfully could be. You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.” All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine. “You don’t like when I admire my own work?” Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit. The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need. (Because you really do need it. You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.) It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once.

“Kook,” you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.” He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin. They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas. A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care. Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits. When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt. “I’ve missed this,” he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.

“Missed you too,” you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @xjoonchildx

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lee-scribbles-and-doodles · 3 years

Text

S3 ep5

Current emotional status: FEAR

Cthulu Max has been on the rampage for a whole week!?

Ew, the narrator

Oh man, are they sending the airforce after him?

I really like Cthulu Max's design

Momma Bosco 💗

Oh hey, Norrington and Papierwaite are alive.

Superball are you saying you tried to send the Maimtrons up Max's--

Also he's acting president while Max is... deposed of.

Superball is only giving Sam until 6am :(

Featherly!

"Wandering around the moleman tunnels is no fun without Max."

"You got it all wrong, we're trying to help Max." "We will help him... to a generous serving of ass whooping."

"That is one rabbit who will be multiplied... into 2,000 smoldering pieces."

Carol ran off with Blustet

"I only want her to be happy, is all." Aw, Curt

Superball just admitted to having separation anxiety from Max

Ok Momma can't come but Papierwaite and Norringron can.

I like Norrington :)

GASP

Is it?

It is!

SYBIL!!!!

RETURN OF THE QUEEN

Oh, she is very pregnant

She was a wizard at one point?

She's gonna help!

Superball there's no such thing as acceptable losses

Abe has his body back

"Four score and seven tons of raw power"

HE CAN FLY NOW!?

Sybil, I love you, but why did you mod someone else's car???

Grandpa Stinky I love you

Oh, he just handed us the recipe for once.

Asdfff the spore maxes swarming Grandpa

They stole Grandpa's hotdogs

"We must feed the host! Piglets and sphinkters make us stronger!" "We regret nothing!"

Grandpa hasn't slept in three years

Sam just casually taking the last of Grandpa's corndogs

The spores are trying to get it

Lol Sam slapped them

Sal's alive!

He's hiding from Sam :(

Lol we can control Cthulu Max with Corndogs

Ew, the cornstarch got mixed in with the giant puddle 🤢 Looks gross

Love how Sybil completely ignores the Flaming Max head

Also the look of disappointment on the spore's face made me laugh

Fifth trimester???

The way the one Max spore by Grandpa's truck is bobbing in circles with his mouth open is making me laugh.

Sam showing concern for Sybil because she’s preggers 🥺

Her being pregnant with Abe's child implies that statues have working genital in this universe

She put a weiner scented airfreshener in the desoto

At least Sam and a Max spore seem to like that (of course they do)

"Sybil you're the best!" Hell yeah she is!

Sam's mind went to the color bar codes to prevent being traumatized by Sybil's oversharing

We drowned the desoto

Asdfgh Sam just botched slapped one of the spores for trying to say "that's none of your damn buisness."

Ew, Max's spine is pointing out

Oh hey, Satan and Jurgen

Why is Jurgen wearing his old fashioned clothes instead of his emo clothes?

Lol Sam snuck into frame to shout "Go Mets! New York rules!"

"--besides it's just a good and noble thing to do." "You're not familiar with my previous work, are you?"

"Sam, what happened to you to make you so cynical?" Gee, Jurgen, I wonder what could have possibly happened.

Oh so the water tower counts as vegetable oil because Momma did something to it

Pfft we can replace Satan's microphone with a corndog

Omg they jumped off the building to avoid Max

Oh, they're fine, and the oil is in the giant puddle.

I'm thankful to Featherly for giving us an egg but I'd have preferred not to watch him lay it. Granted it was just in a cartoon way but he still made weird noises

Also TRANS FEATHERLY 2021

"I desperately wanted to see that, sir. Ask him if he'll lay another one."

Oh hey, the Flaming Max heads helped heat up the giant desoto corndog

Since I'm playing this in 2021 the Maimtron's song references are super dated, which defeats Superball's efforts

Oooh! A unique opening sequence???

Oh this music is jazzy af

Sam really doesn't like the Max spores

Sam how do you already know what Max's insides look like???

"Even when he's not a collasal monster Max's food comas can last for weeks."

Ok we wake Max up with the coffee beans, right?

Yup!

The gi Max spore is so sad he doesn't get to come 😢

"But I'm a horrible monster!"

"I suppose Max's brain always looks like a living room?" "Well, Max is host to all kinds of weird parasites, and he likes to he a good host!" WHAT

No really, this brings up so many questions about lagomorphs. Are they some kind of Symbiote or something?

And a previous episode confirmed Max is amphibious

Max has tumors!!!

It shocked Sam!

"Eugh! Get away fake Max!" "Do you find my warmth... alarming, Sam?"

"What do nightmares taste like, anyway?" "Pepsi"

Max wants to be author 💗

He also writes fanfiction about Flint 🤣

I'd unironically read his books.

Tina Belcher voice: Friend fiction

Max has an experimental fusion jazz band???

"He just killed a great white shark--"

Max being completely unable to describe a woman is very gay of him. Good for him.

Max's brain teleported everyone to different parts of the body.

Found Sybil in the gym/legs

The brain is broadcasting Sam's thoughts???

Sam couldn't think of a joke for the medicine balls :(

"Wow Max is looking pretty buff. Would it be too weird if I asked him to turn around?"

Sam! Stop thinking bad things about Sybil's pregnancy she can hear you you putz!

She's upset with him now

"Can you believe this guy?" "I find the entire situation to be very contrived and misogynistic." Same spore Max, same.

Sam stop being so mean omg!

"I changed Sybil, I totally get the whole parenthood thing now." "Really now?" "Tax deductions."

In Max's inventory now

Y'know, I never really thought about it as a storage house

Hit The Road reference :3

Baby roach hatched in

"Pa..papa?" "Now I am little champion, now I am!"

Max has a Maximus shrine

Sam turned into a roomba!

Aw, he named it Sam Jr 🥺

We won Sybil back through his love of Sam Jr

Found the conjoined twins

Huh, Max lost as eye. Does that mean he has a glass one, or do lagomorphs have regenerative abilities?

Pfft we have to play twister to control his arma

The brain is messing with things again

Oh, we need a roach to operate the game because of radiation

Well, let's kidnap Sal

Oh, poor Girl Stinky. She's really going through it

Aw, Sal feels bad

Sal?

Honey, are alright?

He's dying???

He's not immune to irradiation!?

Oh no, he's gone

I'm so sad 😞

Gotta pick up Sam Jr. Before I control Max

They mad Max do a magical girl pose

Ugh the narrator is back

Wait, what?

He's Max's brain??? SUPEREGO???

WHAT

"I was always ignored" Yo if my super ego was as pretentious as you I 'd ignore it too 😤

He wants to kill himself and Max???

I know Max had a self loathing complex but holy shit

The super ego is perfectly fine with destroying half the east coast what a jerk

Just noticed Sam's tie is red. Had no idea about this while drawing PI!Sam lol

We have to help Max get his memories back to use the ASTRO projector

Skunkapes has three Sam clones imprisoned

Sam had canon ocd?

Gasp Gordon???

No, it's Sammun Mak

I love him, little child tyrant

Just make him a mobile brain in a jar and let Sam and Max adopt him

Why is Grandpa here?

He isn't talking like Stinky

Too polite

Sam sees it too

He's a space gorilla

They switched brains?

Found the cloning g chamber

Let's go to Momma's first

CONE OF SHAME CONE OF SHAME CONE OF SHAME

Superball is "wracked with guilt"

"Keep it together Superball. Sam will be able to save the day. He always does."

Ok, let's go to the cloning facility

I'm still thinking about poor Sal yo

FLIIIIIINT!

He's punching space apes!

Girl Stinky really playing up the evil Mistress role

The doggleganger has a bomb on him!!!

Wait so Girl really is a mermaid??? I thought that was just her aestetic

God I love Flint

Haha we tricked Skunkape with scooby doo villain tactics

Got the robot

Her water broke... and it was pennies

Max wants to save Sybil! 😭🥺💕

Super Ego is here

Oh now he wants to save Max

The only thing here are those records

Super Ego waved goodbye

Cthulu Max is cute when he cries

Wait What?

His head is on fire!

The maimtron hit him!

He waved goodbye... and teleported away.

He exploaded!!!!

He promised he'd take Sam with him and he didn't!!!!

AAAAAAH

I thought the dead Max thing was popular angst fanon fic thingy!

We're cloning Max?

It didn't work 😭😭😭😭😭

Superball ran off crying

Oh God the credits are just Sam walking sadly what the hell

He's not even stopping to fight any crime 😢

💔💔💔

God the way he's clinging to himself

What?

The elevator???

MAAAAX

he's back???

Past Max???

He blew his Sam up???

Wait hold on I'm glad they're together again but this doesn't fix anything

There's so much trauma from this season

All the horrible things that happened during 301-304 happened in like 3 days tops, then Sam had to deal with Max being a monster for a week before watching him die!

And the new (?) Max had BLOW HIS SAM UP!!!

And they left the franchise like that for a decade????

What the hell?

I want to be happy but this shit is going to consume my brain for the next week at least what the hell

Aaaaaaah!

Like maybe they really do just brush it off but it feels unlikely

I know Max has a connection with his other selves so it'll be easier for him to adjust but certainly Sam is going to notice the discrepancies since he doesn't get the same deal

Someone told me there were multiple endings hold on

Aw, they walked off into the sunrise together

But still

AAAAAAAAH

#sam and max #freelance husbands #sam and max freelance police #sam & max #sam & max freelance police #freelance police #lee plays sam and max #305 #what the hell #flint paper #agent superball #momma bosco #sybil pandemik #sal s&m #general skun ka'pe #girl stinky #sammun mak #don't @ me I'm crying

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migeviellardi · 3 years

Text

Out Of Comfort

Genre : Adventure, Action, Humour, Hurt/Comfort

Summary : 2 years after the 'you-know-who’, Donnie struggles to adjust with the new way of life. The precarious science blocks are back haunting him, putting him in total stress while he tried his best to keep up with the new team play and co’ord.

Chapter 2 A New Start

Welding felt relaxing, the sound of tiny sparks are like a music to Donnie’s ears. It might not be a real music, but it’s melodious nonetheless. Donnie lifted up his googles, leans back to catch a break. He almost done fixing the hover shell, not the one from yesterday, the one that he kept fixing and fixing away, despite there’s nothing wrong with it.

The one he used last night was a prototype of a new model. It still looks the same as the old ones, but he did made a few upgrades on them. It was definitely frustrating when it got busted. He’s planning to use it more since it felt lighter than the old one. But, now he needs a new shell to wear on a patrol.

He looks at the battleshell charging station. What left there was his worn down Spider-shell. Below it was none other than his wrecked and broken shells that he hadn’t repair, yet. He let out a sad sigh, he looked around him to find that his lab are somewhat cleaner, much cleaner than he remembered. Usually the lab was littered with piles upon piles of inventions, blueprints, scattered metal parts, and energy drinks.

Now, it seems as if it was untouched. The sleek metallic purple walls with LEDs are still looks fresh and new. The floor was free from dust due to the roombas roam freely without bumping into any tech pieces. And the workbench,....empty. Only his old battleshell that he kept tinkering that are currently there. Also, a cup of coffee.

Donnie about to take a sip when he realized it was ran out. He inspect the glass and saw small coffee drips down the mug got frozen in place due to a long time exposed to the AC. How long have he been there without refilling his coffee? Does he been getting the science block again?

Putting down the mug, he rubbed his tired eyes in frustration. Was he being unproductive on purpose? What is he doing here? Why can’t he finish anything?

“Hey.” the voice made him jumped, he looked back to see Leo stood on the doorway. “Whoa, it’s okay. Just a little old me.” Leo held his hands out. Donnie frowned, he turned back to his hover shell.

“What do you want, Leo?”

“It’s training time, Don. Better not coop yourself up in the lab, or I’ll let Raph drag your shell to the Dojo.” Leo ordered as he left towards the Dojo. Donnie sighed heavily, he stood up and followed him. He admit, there’s nothing else he would do, science blocks are the worst and it became a daily routine ever since their Lair was smushed to smithereens. And, the fact that he hate to obey the words Leo told him to.

He wasn’t questioning his leadership skills. If Donnie allowed himself to be honest, the Slider actually knows what he’s doing, good at it in fact. Raph at first had a hard time to adjust, now the former leader putting his trust to Leo, even Mikey approved. Donnie, however, still adapting.

It wasn’t because that he hate to admit it, it just doesn’t sits right putting the leader role to the one who usually pulled some poor one-liners out of spite and keeps bugging your work with some pranks, jokes and poking on things that could cause explosions like it was some kind of a job, because if it is, he good some pretty good records he might get himself some promotions.

And now, the true color of the team seems to emerge. We got the Leader, The Muscle, The Heart and The Brain. Although, The Brain more likely The Brain-Dead one. Stupid science block keeping him from thinking straight, not much idea that pops out other than upgrading, or upgrading the upgrade, or upgrading the upgraded upgrade.

It might be some improvement for anyone, but for the one with the giant science head-cannon looming inside his head, that’s barely even an add-on. He’s unproductivity hurts him, as if the genius inside suddenly just wanted to stop, no more mad scientist mambo-jumbo. He felt it once again, the feeling that he had gone rotten, expired, outdated.....useless.

Seriously, what will he be for the team without his big brain? What can he do other than getting kicked in the booty several times that let your little brother saves your sorry butt?

If once again, he got knocked down and having Mikey, of all people saves him, he’s going to lose his mind.

###

“Alright, my sons. Now, let us begin to--Purple, where’s your battleshell?” they stared at Donnie in his bare-shell. He rolled his eyes, dejected.

“I’ll be fine, Dad. I’m not going to hurt myself.”

“Nono, my son. I believe you, it’s just....weird seeing you without one.” Splinter simply said, trying not to offend his purple son.

“Well, it’s in repair, and my shoulders are getting tired. So....” Donnie didn’t have to finish his sentence to earned a nod from his father.

“Verywell, then. Let us start,....now!” as on cue, the whole Dojo became dark. The brothers immediately forming back to back formation, weapons at their hands, full caution. “Hamatos carries essence of life, the Ninpo. Or what most common people called them, mystics.”

Raph sense a movement to his right, Splinter came in with a kick. Mikey saw the offense, he blocked the kick, swung his nunchaku to Splinters head. The rat dodged it with ease. Upon landing, Raph coming in clutch with his fist. Splinter jumps back into the darkness. “Some may think that it is the most essential in fighting.”

The turtles back to their formation, listening to every sound to pinpoint the next attack. “Others, prefer something else.” a tail emerge from the darkness. Donnie shielded himself with his bo, the tail wrapped around the wooden weapon. Donnie expected the attempt of pulling, he pulled harder, forcing Splinter to show up. Leo anticipated Donnie’s strategy, he swung his sword at the same time Donnie ducked.

Splinter didn’t expect the timing between the two, but he flawlessly avoided himself from being cut in half. Splinter pulled out a smoke bomb and threw it onto the ground. The smoke caused them to cough, which means distractions. They have no choice but to bail on their formation.

“There will be a time where mystic powers will do no good.” Leo sense presence near him. He ducked down to escape another kick. “So, you must focus on your own ability.” He tail swipe Leo’s katanas, leaving him unarmed.

“Agility.” Splinter increases his speed, offering punches and kicks towards the turtle. Leo dodged every attack, seamlessly evading and parrying every blow. He counter-attacked Splinter’s punch, delivering a fist to his face. Splinter caught his hand and kicked Leo away, disappearing into the dark.

“Strength.” Raph blocked a powerful kick out of Splinter, pushed him back a meter. Another tail swipe, Raph let it wrapped on his hand and threw his dad away.

“Speed.” Splinter took a punch from what seems to be Mikey’s fist. Splinter blocked his next punch, only met with a swipe kick a second after. Mikey swung his nunchakus with unimaginable speed. Splinter steps up his game to blocked a series of attacks that his youngest son often called it ‘Razzmatazz’. He manage to grabbed both nunchakus and threw orange from the fight.

“And, Instinct.” Donnie dodged a powerful kick launches towards him. He swings his bo just in time to meet Splinter’s punch. Once again, he disappeared. Donnie waited, trying to hear the footsteps. Behind you! He turns to blocked another powerful kick, this time it was too much to hold, it sent Donnie flying to a nearby wall. He winced and panted, adjusting his weight to his bo.

The lights turned on, Splinter ran towards him. “I’m fine!” his voice sounded a bit too loud. Splinter flinched, he’s unsure if the pain was bearable, but he knows well how stubborn his purple son can be. He decided to let it go, “You did better, my son. If you did not block that last kick, you might get yourself hurt even more.” He thought that he should apologize, but he didn’t think purple would appreciate that.

“Alright, take a break all of you.” he put both of his hands on his back, cracking it forward. “Ugh, while I tend to my bad back, you may have some spar with each other.” he walked away while rubbing his back.

“Hey, Raphie. Wanna spar with me?” Mikey asked excitedly. Raph smiled, accepting the challenge.

“Sure thing, Mikey.” Raph readied up. Mikey activates his mystic chains and whips the nunchaku to Raph, wrapping his whole body. Raph blinks before he was pulled away.

“AAAAHHH!!!” a lod crash was heard. Leo smirks at the scene. Donnie gathers back his bearings and prepared for the sparring.

“Leo?” the slider slowly turns with his smug face. Donnie’s on his pose, “Care to join?” giving him the serious look. Leo kept his usual expression as he readied himself. Donnie strikes first, jabbing his bo to his head, Leo tilted his head to dodge. Donnie swings, Leo parried them with his katanas. He gave more barraging swings, Leo’s agility gives him the advantage. He dodged, parried him with literal ease.

Leo still using the same face. “What’s wrong, Dee-man? Can’t catch little Leo?” Donnie frowned. He swung, Leo blocked and kicked him in the gut. Donnie yelped, Leo sent another kick to the face. Donnie fell to the floor, shaking his head from the mild headache. Leo knelled down, “Aww, had enough already?”

Donnie growled. He swung to his leg, Leo had expected that. He got up and sent more swing barrage, this time a lot faster and more frantic. Leo parried a lot more on this one, but didn’t change the expression on his face. Donnie downward, Leo blocked it. Eyes meeting eyes. “Come on, Don. Is that all? I can definitely fight you blind-folded.”

Donnie’s patience grew thin. He didn’t have to tell him that. He knows he can, and he might will one day.

Donnie pushed him back, now anger are definitely involved. Leo step up his game some more every time Donnie pulled off some new combos and new speed and variety. Donnie looked at him in the face.

Shut up.

He was parried by another sword.

Shut Up!

He can’t beat him.

Shut Up!!!

He’ll never catch up to them.

Shut UP!!!!

He’s not good enough.

“SHUT UP!!!!!”

Leo flinched. Donnie panting hard, hands gripping tightly to his bo. Eyes fixated at Leo, as if he’s ready to kill. Raph and Mikey stunned by Donnie’s shouting.

Donnie growled for real, this time. The deep reptilian growl filled his throat with his fang showing up menacingly. Donnie engaging his predator side, Leo held out his hand.

“Okay, calm down, Dee. There’s no need to continue this with violence. Okay?”

“GRRRR!!!” Donnie attacks Leo with full intention. Leo no longer wanting to fight, he dodged every move Donnie makes. It was fast and chaotic, more like trying to hurt rather than spar.

“Donnie, STOP!!!”

“GRAAAHH!!!”

Raph blocks Donnie’s bo. “Donnie, knock it off!!!”

“Please calm down!” Mikey plead. Donnie ignored them all, he charged at Raph with blind rage. Raph dodged the jab, throw his fist at Donnie. He didn’t dodge, letting it hit his face. Donnie growled deeply, eyes as sharp as needle. Raph was stunned, he didn’t expect Donnie to accept the hit. He felt guilty for hurting his little brother.

Splinter ran back after being called by Mikey. “Purple!!”

Donnie saw an opening on Raph, he charge in while Raph refused to move. Leo tackled Donnie and pinned him to the ground. He refused to back down and squirmed his way to freedom as Leo gripped his limbs for dear life.

“Donatello!!!”

Leo, Raph and Donnie startled by his father’s voice.

“Enough!” Leo froze for a little while, he let go of Donnie once he felt no resistance. Donnie layed down, panting. He suddenly really exhausted. All that anger took too much energy out of him. He slowly hoist himself up to a sitting position. Splinter approached his purple son. Carefully assessing the damage around the turtle. There’s a bruise on his right cheek, might be caused by his oldest son as when he meets his eyes, he can see the guilt he’s facing.

“Purple? What is up with you?” Donnie refused to talk or making eye contact to his father. Splinter can still feel anger looming around him. Did one of the brothers ticked him off? What provokes him?

“Donatello!”

“I DON’T KNOW, OKAY!!!!” he yelled. Splinter jerked up by the sudden loud voice that felt louder to his rat ears. Donnie noticed that he went too much. “I...I just--” Donnie can’t hold back the tears that began to form in his eyes. He looked down to obscure it.

Splinter was surprised seeing his son cried. The brothers reacts the same way. Devastated seeing their usual emotionless turtle broke into tears.

Splinter held out his hand, “My son,-” Donnie swatted away his hand and ran straight to his lab. Not even the call of his name from his family can get his attention. He closed the iron-forced door of his lab, locking it immediately. Donnie sat under his desk, hugging his legs to his chest as he burst to tears. The lab was eerily quiet, the only sounds that are presence are his and the sound of his family trying to reach for him from the other side of the door.

He felt vulnerable having to broke down like this, he hates it. The way the others desperately trying to get him to open the door made it worse. He wasn’t supposed to show his weakness at the time, he’s a Hamato, a descendant of heart o’ steel. And steel has a lot influence with tech, his thing. He supposed to be able to control his feelings.

Now, his meltdown would definitely stuck in the topic for a while in this whole family situation. He knows he’s having trouble, yes he does. And he knows he needs to keep up with the others. He knows, he’s the smart one.

He tried his best, to keep up, to adjust, to be stronger, for everyone’s sake. But he can’t let his family help him with that, they all helped enough. He can’t let them once again drag their butts to fix his problems for him, no. Fixing is his thing, and he can fix his own problem by himself. Just uh, not now. He needs more time, to figure things out. His family just need to be patience, they can handle the waiting game. They’ve done this before, just like waiting for the drill out of its beta version.

He also, needs to be patience. Everything’s going to be alright, he’ll figure it out. He have to. For everyone’s sake.

###

The rest of the day passes by, quietly. Donnie had refuse to talk or eat, he sent Shelldon to grab some drinkable sustenance for him. He can handle being hungry, but thirst must be dealt with. As he recalled some research he found out that living beings can survive hunger for at least a week as long as they have enough supplies of water. Although, he can’t say the same about coffee, but not like it’s bothering him.

He waited for Shelldon to come back with a drink, his lab door still close but no longer locked. Once in a while his brothers visited him as he succumb to his depressions in his favorite purple hoodie, concealing his swollen eyes as a result from the earlier’s mental breakdown.

They talked, though they tried not to bring up of what happened in the Dojo. Leo, most of all, had a hard time keeping it cool. The red-eared slider guiltily apologized for making fun of him in training. Donnie might not talk about it, but he willing to forgive him. It wasn’t Leo’s fault that he had problems, he needs to stop playing the Blame Game.

“We love you, Don. And nobody can change that.” Leo said.

“I know.” Donnie simply replied.

His thought was broken by the sound of whirring from the purple drone who he manage to salvage, thankful that Shredder didn’t think twice and explode his core memory.

“Yo, Dee. I got the coffee for you.” the drone informed enthusiastically.

“Thanks, Shelldon.” he quietly accepted the coffee and took the first sip before once again continuing his currently favorite activity, staring an empty desk. Shelldon’s cheery attitude turned into worry as he watched his creator’s constant solitude. Slumping his upper body further back into his gaming chair, holding the coffee mug in both hands.

“Dude. You okay?” he asked for what seems like the tenth times by now. The response stayed the same.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Shelldon wasn’t happy with the answer, but he shrugged it off. He took out his lanky robot arm and grabbed something that sitting on top of him.

“Mikey told me to give you this.” he held out a box of pizza at him. “You should at least eat something, Donnie.” he plead. Donnie stared at the pizza then at Shelldon. The look of worry annoyed him. Great, even a robot is worried about him. But he knows better that Shelldon is not just a robot. He’s a family, part of the Hamato, the drone has feelings and conscious of its own.

Donnie accepted the package, he took a slice and eat it. Shelldon--although not quite visible--beaming away that he had accepted the offer.

“Thank you, Shelldon.”

“You’re welcome, Dee!” Shelldon flew off to the other side of the lab, knowing that he’d done his job. Donnie chuckled quietly as he gone. It’s weird to think that the drone behaving like a kid, which was the intention of installing the emotion-settings in the first place. He can’t remember the last time he acted like one, those days of constant playing, troublemaking and have no care in the world. He said it before; it was messy but gosh, it was fun.

Then, he heard the lair suddenly began crowdy. He didn’t realized that the door was opened, did Shelldon forgot to close the door? How could an AI forget something? Donnie have no mood to stand up or command anything for now, so he let it be. He heard a distant sound of clip-clop from hooves in the lair. The only mutant he knows that is involving hooves is Baron Draxum. What is he doing here? And the sound of chit-chats heard along with it as well, especially some faint female voices and his dad.

They all having a chat out there. How long they’ve been in this states? Why haven’t anyone informed him about visitors? Then again, he’d been cooped up in this lab and desiring for some temporary isolations, of course they haven’t inform him.

Not wanting to bother with anything about it, he continued sipping his coffee and chomped down more pizza into his throat. Not much he can do for now, other than listening the distant inaudible voices. Not even bothering to look up to the sound of footsteps getting closer and closer to the lab.

“Hey, big guy. How’s it going?” April leans her body to the door frame, keeping it cool.

“’m fine.” he answered again, too often now that it sounds more like a chanting spell. April offered a sad smile as she bring herself to sit beside the purple genius.

“Wanna talk about it?” she asked softly. Donnie sipped his mug as a sign that he refused her demands. “I see. Well, we wanted to hang out together as family to the hidden City.” she told.

“Last time we did that we got thrown in jail.” he bluntly respond.

“Well, yes. But things are different now. Now that we stopped that ‘you-know-who’, they pretty much removed the bounties from our heads.” she added, definitely sounding more excited than before. Donnie still can’t trust the sudden change, although he does agree the treatment for doing so after that horrible incident, he didn’t expect anything from the Yokais but pay some respect for sparing them from the devilish evil claws they called Shredder.

“Still, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Remember that time where we trust that spider lady for taking care of ‘you-know-who’, and look what she did, total havoc, everywhere.”

“Well, at least she did help out with locating the....uuuh....”

“Empyrean.”

“Yeah, that. If it wasn’t for her, we might not be able to save the day and,... You know what I mean.” she reluctantly continued her sentence. Donnie can tell why, he also didn’t want to think of what happen if they can’t find where Shredder had kept their father hostage. Can’t probably sleep knowing if they were too late, Big Mama was indeed offer a huge help even though she’s only can help telling them the location.

Although, the point still stands, she wasn’t a type of person that can be easily trusted. Things happened because of her, and they suffered the most of it. Can’t believe he wished that he should’ve listen to Leo the first time, probably one of the reason why he can be such a good leader.

“Look, I know it’s hard to believe it that way. But I promise, I got some good hunch today. Everything will be fine. You can blame me if anything goes wrong in your way, okay?” And there it is, the classic humble April. The very things he envies the most out of her, dare enough to take the blame and always be there with positive attitude.

And, yes, April always had a strong hunch, it never failed them and they all knew that. If she thinks everything will be fine, then it will indeed.

“So, do you trust me?” she stood up with a big confident smile on her face. It somewhat contagious and made him smile as well.

“Of course, you’re the only human that I trust in this world, April.” he responded, with less tense or sad tone.

“What, you still don’t trust Casey?” as on cue, a loud non-feminine female voice shouting in the background, followed by what sounds like his brothers shouting back at her. Donnie grimaced at the behaviour of that girl. Ever since the former Foot-clan helped out with defeating Shredder, the group immediately warmed up to her. Except for Donnie.

He still respected her for saving his father, however he never had any connection with the girl. Her risk-loving-fight-adoring attitude giving his big bulky brother, Raphael a worthy friendly match. She didn’t even flinched by his loud thundering roar, if by chance she roared right back. And her chaotic energy is enough to keep up with Leo and Mikey.

Donnie didn’t share much with such connections, in which he easily-predicted, the girl hates science. Although, she does find his inventions as cool and awesome, she might thinking about exploding it in place though. Leo would be proud.

Also, she’s terrifying, not as much as April, but she gave him too many goosebumps for the past years.

“In theory, she might be the last person to be trusted when it involves ‘safety’. Please don’t tell her that!” he semi-whispering, not wanting her to charged in and wreck something explosive in his lab.

“Your secret safe with me.” she gestured a zipping motion across her mouth. Donnie chuckles, “Now, come on. Everyone’s waiting. You don’t have to take your hoodie off if you don’t want to.”

Donnie smiled at that, he stood up and let April grabbed his hand leading him to the group. “Thanks, April.”

“Anytime, Dee.” she grinned at him.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fanfiction #oc crossover #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #fanfiction #fanfic

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remmushound · 3 years

Text

Radio Hearts, chapter 4!! @scentedcandlecryptid @digitl-art-monstr

Shelldon woke up.

The sleep passed by as quickly as it always did and the first thing the drone did was go quickly over to the mirror to see if anything about him had changed. He didn't feel any different, but it could never hurt to check, right?

Shelldon gasped when he saw himself. Then he gasped again when he realized he was able to gasp. That wasn’t a recording— that was a new voice. His voice? The reflection staring back at him was a new one; colored a bright purple with streaks of pink going along his sides and on the ridges of his shell. At first he thought his propellers gone, until he located them again. They had been moved; where there had once been only one on his shell, there were now four in the places of his flippers. He moved one, and then the other. And then he moved all four, all independent of each other. He had never been able to do that before!

Then he noticed his sensors; no, not sensors. Eyes. Expression-filled, bright yellow eyes that stood out against his color scheme. Pupils that dilated and constricted and spiraled on his command. And his mouth was almost like a screen! Just like with his eyes, he could flip between various expressions of joy and sadness and anger. Genuine expressions of his own!

“Woahhh…” Shelldon’s voice sounded strange to him, new and almost vibrating within him, but he didn't mind. He had a voice! A voice all his own!

Donatello walked up beside Shelldon with a soft smile; not one of the fake ones he’d often force upon himself, but a real smile. He reached over and touched Shelldon on the head, giving him a gentle scratch just like Splinter always did.

Shelldon almost collapsed with the vibrating euphoria of the touch. He had felt touch before, but never in such an intense sensation that made his motor rumble, and his eyes take on a mind of their own. Though he could still see out of them, the sensors showed his eyes shut and a smile on his face that almost resembled a W. The touch felt nice!

“You like that, Shelldon?”

Shelldon found himself rubbing against Donatello’s hand with much the same affection that a cat would.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.”

***

“Hey Mikey!” Donatello called as he and Shelldon approached the mutant. “Mind if Shelldon plays a few rounds with you?”

Michelangelo caught his ball and gave an uncertain whine, hugging the toy tightly to his chest. “I don’t know, Dee. I just got this ball…”

“I’ll get you a brand new one if anything happens, which it won’t!” Donatello declared, adding the second part quickly when Michelangelo seemed uncertain.

“Please?” Shelldon asked, and his eyes went circular and watery in a begging expression..

“Awww….” Michelangelo cooed, and then seemed to brighten. “Okay. Go over there.”

Shelldon looked to Donatello for permission before drifting over to the place that Michelangelo had indicated.

“Okay…” Michelangelo gave his new ball one last hug before he threw it to Shelldon.

Shelldon was ready. He did the same move he had done before, realizing a little too late that the move had been one of his many faults before. The ball struck home and Shelldon awaited the violent pop, but it never came. Instead, the ball bounced effortlessly off of Shelldon’s carapace and flew right back to Michelangelo. Michelangelo gave an excited squeal as he caught the ball and held it tightly to his chest a moment before tossing it right back to Shelldon.

***

Donatello let Michelangelo and Shelldon play their catch game for almost twenty minutes before he and Shelldon moved on. Shelldon felt… happy. He had never felt emotions as genuine and strong as he had since he woke up the previous time. He couldn’t help but wonder if Donatello had been the source of that. Either way, he stayed close to his maker even as his eyes tried to linger on almost everything they passed.

“Hey Raph!” Donatello called as they entered the weight room. “Leon!”

Raphael gave a curious hum as he looked over at Donatello and Shelldon. “Oh. Hey…”

Leonardo was spotting the snapper and he seemed far more excited to see his twin and the drone. “Hey! There’s my main man! And Donnie.”

“Brothers, you remember dear Shelldon.” Donatello smiled and motioned to the drone, pointedly ignoring Leonardo

“Yeah…” Raphael’s head started to sink into his shell until he got a better look at Shelldon. “Hey. He looks different.”

“Yep. Gave ‘em a few new upgrades. You like?”

Raphael pursed his lips as he leaned in closer to look at Shelldon. Then he smiled. “He’s got eye’s now!”

“He’s always had eyes.” Leonardo pointed out.

“Yeah but they’re like… like real eyes! Not weird eh… blank ones.”

“And he can talk.” Donatello gave Shelldon a pat on the side. “Go on Shelldon. Say something.”

Shelldon hesitated. “Something.”

Raphael gasped. “Aw! Your voice is so cute!”

Leonardo butted in, leaning his head into Raphael’s shoulder. “Does it like, change or something?”

“Shelldon has exactly 16 different emoticons to express different emotions he may be feeling at any given moment.” Donatello explained. “He can also switch between them at will if he ever needs to manipulate, but you didn't hear that from me.”

To show off Donatello’s work, Shelldon rapidly flicked between all the expressions at his disposal. Both Raphael and Leonardo seemed to share a similar awe, leaning in closer to get a better look at Shelldon.

“Snazzy~!” Leonardo exclaimed.

“He’s like the roomba but cuter!”

Donatello gasped and grabbed Shelldon, hugging him close. “Don’t you dare compare him to the roomba!”

“He’s got hands now too?” Leonardo got closer so he could touch Shelldon’s front hovers.

“Technically, they’re flippers.” Donatello corrected, sticking his nose in the air.

“Eh, hands, flippers, whatever.” Leonardo moved and shifted the hover around to look at it closely.

“It’s never bad to be accurate.” Donatello scowled.

“What kinda turtle is he based off of anyway?” Leonardo slid to behind Shelldon to play with his back flippers.

Shelldon whined and tried to pull his feet away. Donatello noticed immediately and yanked Shelldon away from Leonardo’s curious touch.

“He’s based off a mix of softshell and leatherback.” Donatello explained proudly.

“Really?” Leonardo returned to stand once more beside Raphael. “But his nose is small, and so’s his forehead.”

“Nardo leave my forehead out of this.”

“I mean, that thing’s so big even Dora can’t explore it. Mountain climbers are too scared to try and surmount it cause they could never bring enough food for that journey!”

“That’s tough talk for the eighth forgotten dwarf.”

Leonardo gasped loudly. “Don’t you dare talk about my height!”

“Well don’t bring my forehead into this!”

“Guys.” Raphael got between the two of them before it could go any further. “Don, your toy’s cool. Please go somewhere else before Leo brings out the mad scientist jokes.”

“Speaking of mad scientists” Leonardo started.

“No, no no no no.” Raphael corrected, pushing back against Leonardo when the slider tried to resist him. “None of that. Don, go now.”

Donatello took his brother’s advice and left with Shelldon. Shelldon looked back at Raphael and Leonardo, his screen showing a frown and sensors showing sad eyes.

“Toy…?”

***

As usual, when the time came where the brothers had to leave, Shelldon was left in the loving care of Splinter. Splinter was thrilled when he realized Shelldon could talk back now, and their discussions after each movie increased tenfold now that Splinter was actually getting responses. Shelldon couldn’t remember ever seeing the old man smile so much; it made him smile in turn. Seeing Splinter happy made him happy. Somehow the movies seemed even clearer than they had in Shelldon’s previous upgrade. He had a better understanding of the words and their meanings, and when emotion spilled into the characters voices, Shelldon could feel it too.

When Splinter pet Shelldon like he did every day as they spent time together, it felt even more euphoric. Each gentle stroke and rub sent shockwaves through Shelldon’s wires and that gentle rumbling returned like it had when Donatello had pet him.

“Are you purring?” Splinter commented, looking over Shelldon with a wider smile creasing across his face. “That’s adorable.”

The compliment only made Shelldon purr even more. Yes, he was purring! He wondered for a moment why Donatello would bother with what must have been a useless upgrade, but then Splinter started to pet him again and all his thoughts were lost with the love he felt both from Splinter and in his own chest.

***

“Shelly…”

Shelldon’s sensors came to life from his charging at Donatello’s gentle urging. He was confused. Checking his charge, it was just barely halfway. It was hours before he was set to wake up, and Donatello had never woken him up so soon before. He barely had enough energy to hover, but he tried. Donatello picked him up immediately so he wouldn’t have to expend the power.

“Easy, Shell.” Donatello smiled, giving the drone a gentle stroke on his head, “I have a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Shelldon whirled. “But Dee. It’s early.”

“I know— I know I just couldn’t wait.” Donatello was practically melting with glee, his smile wide. “Here— I gotta turn you off real quick but it won’t be for long.”

“Turn me off? Why?”

“For the surprise!” Was all Donatello elaborated. “You trust me, don’t you? I— I’ve been working on it for a while! I know you’ll like it! But I gotta turn you off, just— just for a little bit!”

Shelldon tried to read Donatello’s expression, but all he could find was an overwhelming sense of pure excitement. Shelldon flashed a sleepy smile.

“Okay, Dee…”

At Donatello’s touch, Shelldon went to sleep.

#Leo is a shorty because I said so #also #twins roasting each other #good content #let Shelldon purr darn you!

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littledraga · 3 years

Text

Messenger Roomba

It had been a quiet day at the manor, for once. Something everyone had been trying to make the most of it. Especially The Spine, as he sat in his room, pouring over a new song. Lyrics had been bouncing around in his head for a while now. He just had to make them make sense.

While he was working away, scribbling in a notepad, a Roomba slipped into his room. Without doors, it wasn’t uncommon, and he hardly gave them a thought. At least until they bumped into his leg and beeped.

He glanced down and raised an eyebrow. There was a piece of paper stuck to their head.

Strange, he thought as he picked up the folded paper to read what was inside. Likely someone had just missed a trash can, but it wouldn’t hurt to look.

Hastily scribbled on one side in glittering ink, it simply read: ‘Hi Spine!’ and was signed with a large R.

Spine sighed and gently pinched the bridge of his nose. Really? He thought to himself. Sitting up a little, he pinged Rabbit over the wifi. “You can just ping me if you want to talk, Rabbit. You know that.”

Nothing.

Another sigh and he put the paper down on the desk. Rabbit and her weird ideas. There were easier ways to talk if she had something to say. It wasn’t like their rooms were that far apart either if she really needed him.

Intent on throwing away the note and getting back to work, Spine noticed the Roomba still sitting there, waiting.

“Oh, fine! But only because it’s you,” he told them as he turned the paper over. In a neat manuscript, he wrote back: ‘Hello, Rabbit.’ And signed it with an S. Putting it back on the Roomba, he smiled at their excited beep as they zoomed away.

A messenger Roomba, not the weirdest thing in the manor. Not even the oddest Roomba. Rollie had finally learned to roll without their training wheels. It was a proud moment for Spine. If this one wanted to pass along notes, he supposed it didn’t really hurt.

Hopefully, that would keep Rabbit busy for a while, and he could get back to work. He wanted to, at least, get the idea written out before turning in for the night.

He at least had a few moments of peace before Roomba came rolling in again and beeping to get his attention. Another note was placed carefully on their top. Picking it up, he opened it up to read it.

‘Whatcha doin’?’ was scribbled on it with the same glittering ink. He didn’t have any expectations that it would be important if she was sending notes via Roomba, but she could have at least put some effort into it, honestly!

All the same, he turned it over again. ‘I’m working on a new song.’ Maybe that would give him some peace.

That was a short lived hope as another note came in shortly after. This was probably the worst way they could be communicating right now. But he humoured her and read the next note.

‘Me too! I’m stuck on the chorus. How many ‘La’s are too many?’

He groaned and put his head in his hand. If she wanted to talk about music like this, they’d be there all night. It wasn’t worth the effort. Instead of answering, he wrote back. ‘Rabbit, this conversation would go a lot faster if you just pinged me over the wifi.’

Less time between visits this time. Rabbit had sent her lyrics over with a few question marks on top.

This was easier at least. Relenting, he went over her song, jotting down notes in the margins, and corrected some spelling mistakes. Honestly, for a bot with built in internet access, why did she misspell so many words? Once he thought he had caught everything he could mention or help with, he sent it back with the Roomba who beeped happily along.

He at least got more time to work on his own song while she read through his notes. It was good to know she at least took his advice seriously, even if she rarely took him seriously any other time.

A simple ‘Thanks’ and a doodle of Rabbit giving a peace sign was all she sent.

He supposed it was polite to thank him, but, ‘Rabbit, the Roombas have work to do.’ He tried to remind her as he sent the Roomba off to, hopefully, get some work of their own done. And maybe, just maybe, he could finish his too.

Or she would just ignore when he reminded her of things she didn’t want to do. But this time, it was a bit longer.

'Isn’t this neat! It’s like sending secret messages! Like before everyone else got on wifi!’

Ah. Now he understood where these notes were coming from.

There had been a time when they were the only ones that could connect wirelessly, at least within the manor walls. Rabbit must have missed it. Now that Spine was thinking about it, he did too. They had told each other jokes and comforted each other when they couldn’t speak.

Sometimes it made the lonely nights in the labs easier. When they were too far away to talk with each other, or when they were too nervous to power down. They could at least talk and feel like they were still in the same room. It reminded him that he wasn’t really ever alone, even if they couldn’t be together.

Now with cellphones and tablets, everyone was buzzing around. A constant drone they had to block out to get some peace. They didn’t talk as freely as they used to.

Grinning a bit to himself, he wrote back. Opting to be just a little cheeky, he didn’t have to be serious all the time. ‘Just be careful they aren’t intercepted.’

Work all but forgotten, he waited for the next note to come.

He didn’t have to wait long.

‘Nah! This one is faster than GG, I checked.’ Along with the note, Rabbit had doodled GG sitting down and pouting.

The Spine couldn’t help but laugh, hard, when he saw it. GG must have been upset to lose. And likely hated that she wasn’t in the know.

‘Good! Then maybe we can get some peace for once.’

‘So! What song are you working on Spine-o!’

Right, he had been working. Looking the paper over, he hummed softly. He could explain it to her. Or he could just send it to her with the help of the Roomba.

Beeping happily, they scooted off down the hall and to his sister’s room. In the distance, he could hear GG yell for them to come to her. He laughed.

When he got his notepad back, it was covered in little hearts in different colours.

He smiled as he looked it over and sat it back down. Along with his music, there was another note.

‘Did you get dumped again?’

Steam rushed through his vents as he heated up. ‘No!’ He hastily scribbled back and sent it back. He hadn’t had a date to get dumped by, but that was hardly the point. Rude!

He was still pouting when the Roomba came back again.

‘We’ve got a real nice blender that just came in the other day, I could introduce you.’

Chuckling, he shook his head while he put the note on his desk to respond.

‘No thanks, Rabbit. We don’t have the same tastes in appliances.’ Still chuckling to himself, he sent the Roomba off. They spent the rest of the evening talking before he gave up on his song and laid down for the night. It was nice to just talk for a while.

In the middle of the night, the Roomba rolled in again, gently bumping into his bed frame.

Groaning softly, Spine rubbed his face before blindly reaching for the Roomba and the note. He didn’t mind the notes, but they needed time to recharge and rest. If it was an early morning pun, he was going to ignore her.

It wasn’t a pun. There were no words at all, just a poor doodle of a sad face. It took his brain a moment to warm up enough to understand what that meant.

It was a bad night again. She hadn’t had one of those in ages. Or maybe, it had just been ages since she had let anyone know. That was concerning, she should know she could always come to him if something was wrong. Rabbit may have been the oldest, but he was the support of the manor.

Sitting up, he tried to wake up enough to go check on her. Only, she hadn’t come when she knew she could. He tried to ping her over the wifi, only to be greeted with silence. So, that’s how it was.

Padding over to his desk, he turned on the desk lamp and pulled out a piece of paper. ‘It’s all right, Rabbit. I’m here whenever you need me,’ he reminded her and sent the note off.

He leaned back in his chair while he waited. Time seemed to drag on forever while he sat there, minutes ticking by too slowly for his liking.

Eventually, the Roomba did wheel their way back to him. He hardly waited for them to stop before grabbing the note.

‘I know. It’s just hard talkin’ about it. Ya know?’

He smiled softly. Yeah, he understood that just fine. If she didn’t want to talk about it, that was just fine.

‘It’s okay, you don’t have to.’ Spine couldn’t draw like his sister, but he doodled a little guitar with musical notes floating around it.

On the really bad nights, they sang together or made up silly stories to distract each other from what was bothering them. It wasn’t the same as connecting to each other, but they talked through the night, changing lyrics in songs to be silly and making jokes until light started to filter into The Spine’s window. He hadn’t even noticed how late it was.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘A lot better, thanks.’

It was a relief. Spine knew he couldn’t make everything go away. Things were never that simple, even when your brain’s composed of wires.

‘I’m glad.’ He doodled his own face with a thumbs up. Or well, as close as he could manage on his own.

When there came no reply, he worried a little. She probably just fell asleep, likely had none at all.

Putting away his pen, Spine looked to his bed. There was time to get some more sleep, at least, but he thought better of it. It wasn’t like he needed a full night's sleep. He wasn’t human after all.

Putting on a fresh suit, he was adjusting his fedora when the Roomba finally came back. Kneeling down, he gave them a pat. “Thanks for all the help, buddy. I really appreciate it.”

Instead of a note, it was a picture. The two of them were sitting at the duck pond and laughing. He could get a hint.

Getting a fresh piece of paper, he carefully sat the picture on his desk to keep.

‘I’ll see you soon, Rabbit. Don’t forget the feed, you remember last time, don’t you?’

Having a messenger Roomba was nice, but nothing beat talking face to face.

#spg #fanfic

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mischiefandspirits · 4 years

Text

Family Weekend

The Teen Titans headed out for a weekend with their families. Wonder Girl was running a mission with her Amazon sisters. Impulse had planned out some fun with her parents and twin brother. Virus left for their homeworld. Nightstar spent time with her mothers.

Robin, having left Gotham over a year earlier and not looked back, assumed he'd spend the weekend alone in Titans Tower. Then Red X broke in.

Part of Batkid and Robin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin stared down at his tea with a frown, tapping his fingers against the mug randomly. A small buzz came near and he sighed. “Don’t try it, Virus.” When the buzz kept coming, he glared behind him at the blue Roomba slowly making its way towards him.

It paused, then sighed. Electric blue energy pulled out of the robot vacuum, leaving the black device to roll off on its own. The energy collected into a blue humanoid form with geometric white patterns across them. The patterns on their face formed into a pout as they leaned against the kitchen counter. “How did Robin know?”

He just smirked and turned away.

“Come on!” the Gexin whined and threw themself over Robin’s lap, making the barstool rock slightly. “Robin has to tell Virus how Robin knew Virus was the tiny floor robot. Please!”

“The thing was blue,” Nightstar called from the couch, not looking up from her book.

“Nightstar and Robin have not seen the tiny floor robot before. The tiny floor robot could have always been blue.”

“There’s also the fact Roombas are banned from the tower,” Robin pointed out, patting Virus’s back. “So it had to be some kind of prank.”

“Speaking of, why is there a Roomba in the tower?” Nightstar asked, looking up with a glare and Virus shifted into their amorphous form to hide behind Robin.

“The tiny floor robot is Impulse’s,” they said quickly. “Virus just borrowed the tiny floor robot.”

“Wow, hey, way to snitch!” Impulse huffed, zipping up next to Robin. “And for your information, it’s not a Roomba. Roomba’s are made by iRobot. Uncle Arsenal made this one. Its name is Voobo.”

Robin gave her a look. “Get rid of it before Wonder Girl gets back or its name will be Crushed.”

“Come on, Rob. Can’t it stay?” she asked, batting her eyes.

He was unmoved. “Remember last time?”

“It was a joke! Come on, no one even got hurt. I thought you’d like it. Having Dags around would have kept us on our toes. You love that ‘Constant vigilance!’ stuff.”

“You took one of Wonder Girl’s daggers,” Nightstar said.

“Well, yeah. I wasn’t going to strap one of our kitchen knives to the thing,” Impulse scoffed. “I cook with those, unlike some people.”

“No Roombas -- or Roomba-like devices -- in the tower,” Robin declared.

Impulse booed him and Virus poked part of themself out from behind him so he could see their face patterns making it appear they were sticking their tongue out.

“Hey, you want it to get crushed, be my guest.”

“Shouldn’t you two be packing?” Nightstar asked.

“Nightstar is one to talk,” Virus huffed.

“All my stuff was packed up last night because I’m capable of thinking ahead.”

“Virus only has a few files that Virus needs to transfer into roving storage,” the Gexin hummed, leaning against Robin’s back. “The transfer will only take a minute or two so the transfer can wait until Virus is about to leave.”

“And I’m a speedster. People would get suspicious if I wasn’t late,” Impulse shrugged and scooped up the knockoff Roomba.

“Well, Flash was supposed to be here ten minutes ago so you should probably get packed,” Robin pointed out.

Her eyes widened and she glanced down at her phone. She gave a curse and darted out of the room.

Virus jumped over the counter and grabbed a banana. As they absorbed it, they asked, “When is Nightstar going to leave?”

She shrugged. “Ommi’s waiting for me at a diner nearby since I was waiting for Flash to get here so we could all say our goodbyes together and she’s still tracking down exactly where Troia, Ilia, and Wonder Girl are. We’re going to go raid whatever mission they’re on before Mom gets back from Tamaran tonight.”

“Okay. Then Virus will go do the transfer so Virus is ready to go as soon as Impulse leaves.”

Nightstar shrugged and went back to her book. Though, as soon as they were gone, she tossed it aside and turned her focus on Robin. “You know, I can cancel. Ommi won’t mind messing with Donna, Cassie, and Yara on her own.”

“Kory will be upset if you miss Family Weekend,” Robin pointed out, turning back to his tea.

“She hasn’t been planetside for two weeks. I’m sure Ommi, Uncle Roy, and Uncle Biz will be happy to keep her distracted. Not like we get up to much even when I am there. I’ll just call her later.”

“There’s no reason for you to stay. Go have fun annoying Yara with Artemis,” he sighed.

“If you’re going to spend the whole time brooding all alone again then there’s plenty of reason to stay.”

“You’re the queen of brooding,” Robin chuckled halfheartedly.

“Which means I know how much brooding alone sucks,” she said, getting up and moving to stand over him. “I’ll stay and we can brood together.”

He sighed again and set the mug on the counter. He met her eyes. “I’m fine, Mandy.”

“Dick -”

“Seriously. I’m just going to catch up on some work. I could use the quiet and you deserve some time with your moms. You said Kory’s been getting better.”

“Fine, but -”

“Yara’s on a mission in the Amazon Basin, Irey’s got all sorts of plans set up with her parents and Jai, and Galvio’s going to be off-world. None of them need to be popping in or coming back early just because you think I can’t be alone for a couple of days.” When she opened her mouth, he added, “And neither do any of the other Titans. They’re all working hard to cover for us so we can have this break and don’t need to add babysitting me on top of that.”

She scowled and sat down on the stool next to his. “It’s not that I think you can’t be alone, it’s just that I think you shouldn’t be alone.”

“Thanks.”

“You know what I meant,” she growled, pushing his chest hard enough to make his barstool tip backward.

He hooked his food around hers and righted the stool before it could fall. “I’ll be alright. A little alone time is good once in a while.”

Impulse ran through the room, stopping only long enough to say, “Dad’s here!” before she was gone again.

Nightstar tisked and stood up. “You’re sure?”

He nodded and she turned away. “Fine, but I’ll have my T-Comm on me if you need anything.”

He didn’t respond.

She grabbed her book as Flash ran in.

“Hey kids,” he said, glancing at the two. “Where are the others?”

“Wonder Girl’s already gone, Virus is preparing to leave, and Impulse is packing,” Robin answered.

“Course she is,” the man chuckled. “I’d say she gets it from me, but Uncle Barry was the exact same way so maybe it’s the Speed Force.”

“I think you guys just like to use that as an excuse to be lazy,” Nightstar said as she left.

“I’m sure Artemis would agree,” Wally chuckled. He turned to Robin and the boy stiffened.

Not visibly enough that Flash would notice, but visible enough that…

Robin turned away to grab his tea.

“So, you heading to Goth-”

“No.”

The man shot over to sit on the stool Nightstar had been using. “One of these days I’m going to get you to tell me how exactly you’re related to the Bats.”

“Good luck with that,” he scoffed. He looked up at the man. “You work with three of them. Four when Flamebird’s having a good day. Why not just ask them?”

Shut up. You don’t care. They don’t care so you don’t care.

Flash snorted. “Right. Like getting info out of a Bat isn’t impossible. If I ask Signal, he just shakes his head and says it’s not his place. Orphan just looks sad when you get brought up and won’t talk for a while. Flamebird won’t talk to me, to begin with, so he’s out. His old man hasn’t been much better since Batkid died -- not that I blame him -- and he only got worse when that new thief showed up in Gotham a few months ago so there’s no chance of him saying anything.”

They don’t care.

“If it’s so impossible, then why do you keep bugging me.”

“Well, you’re not really a Bat, right?”

Robin’s fingers tightened around the mug. “No, I’m not.”

“There you go then.”

He glared down at the tea.

Distract.

“What were you saying about a thief? Catwoman got a rival?”

Flash shrugged. “It’s Gotham stuff so we don’t hear much, but I have heard the new guy’s been giving her a run for her money. It’s not only that though. He’s apparently claimed a chunk of the city as his own and screws with anyone that messes around in his territory without his permission. Especially if they involve kids.”

Robin hummed, not paying attention.

Cass doesn’t care. She’s just sad because I remind her of Jay.

“I think he’s called Red -”

“Daddy!” Impulse shrieked as she came streaking through the room to throw herself at Flash, who was already on his feet with his arms outstretched to catch her and pull her into a hug.

Virus came skipping in after her at a much slower pace, a duffle bag in his arms. Nightstar was a few steps behind wearing her battle armor with a rucksack hanging from one shoulder.

“There’s my light! You ready to go?”

“Yup! Just got to say bye to the others,” she said, squeezing him. She let go and passed the bag Virus was carrying to her father before pulling the Gexin into a hug. “Bye, Vi!”

“Goodbye, Impulse! Tell Turtle Virus says hello.”

“I will. Tell Galv-11 I say hi! Twin solidarity!” She pulled away to hug Nightstar. “Have fun with your moms!”

“Yeah, yeah.” She gave Impulse’s back two pats before pushing her away.

The redhead just smiled at her before throwing herself at Robin, a move that would have knocked him off the stool and spilled his tea if he hadn’t seen it coming and braced himself. “Bye, Rob! See you Monday!”

“See you, Pulse.”

She pressed a quick -- for non-speedsters -- kiss to his cheek before pulling away. She gave the group a wave as she took her dad’s hand then the two were gone.

“Well, I’m off,” Nightstar said, adjusting the pack and glancing at her remaining teammates. Her gaze lingered on Robin. “Unless someone’s changed their mind.”

“Bye, Star,” Robin said pointedly.

She nodded to him, then Virus.

“Goodbye, Nightstar. Virus has completed the transfer so Virus will be leaving too.”

“Bye Virus.

They waved then dove into the phone outlet that connected to the satellites on the roof.

“Don’t cause Yara too much of a hassle. You do have to work together when you both get back.”

“Yeah, yeah. We all know she loves it,” Nightstar said, waving him off as she turned to leave. “Talk to you later, Dick.”

“Later, Mandy.”

He waited a few moments after the door shut behind her before getting up to go to the couch, tea still in hand. He sat down and grabbed the tablet he’d left on the coffee table. A few clicks had the security feeds up. The speedsters were long gone, Virus was just finishing the transfer over to the Justice League’s long-range satellites that would let him system hop back to his homeworld, and Nightstar was making her way out. He watched her progress until she was completely out of range before tossing the tablet to the side and slumping back against the couch.

He took a sip of his tea and scowled. He set it on the table and buried his face into his hands.

Over a year and a half away from Gotham and he still couldn’t figure out how Alfred made a cup of tea taste like anything other than gross leaf water.

He didn’t know why he still bothered. He’d never liked tea all that much, even when Alfred made it.

It was just… stupid Family Weekend. He hated it. Hated being alone. Hated seeing the others all disappear to spend time with their families. All it did was remind him of everything he’d lost.

Everyone he’d lost.

Or never had to begin with.

He wouldn’t begrudge any of his friends their family time, though, and he certainly wasn’t going to make anyone stay behind with him just because he was a little lonely, even if that meant telling Nightstar a few white lies.

He just wished he had somewhere to disappear off to as well.

He forced himself upright and turned on the tv. He tried to lose himself in a horror movie as he fought down memories of Barbara’s hacking lessons, memories of pranks he’d played on the others with Cassandra, memories of patrolling with Damian, memories of Duke helping him with his English homework, memories of early morning coffee and cereal runs with Tim, memories of nail painting gossip sessions with Stephanie, memories of Jay’s… memories of Jason.

He considered checking in with the Titans East, maybe even visiting, but Nightstar definitely would have considered he’d try that and told Speedy to let her know if he contacted them. Considering the friendly rivalry they had going on after defeating the Master of Games, she’d definitely sell him out in a heartbeat.

Patrolling was also out since Irey would still be monitoring the Teen Titans' social media so she’d know instantly if he left the tower, something he wasn’t supposed to do since they were all supposed to take Family Weekend off, even if he stayed in town.

Normally he’d bury himself in work, but he didn’t actually have any open cases right now.

One good thing about Gotham’s crime rate, you never had to worry about not having an open case.

Shut up!

Robin was so distracted trying to distract himself from his intrusive memories, he almost didn’t notice when the air in the room shifted slightly about an hour after Nightstar left. His hand subtly moved to his utility belt, but he let it drop after a second.

He glared to the side as something invisible settled next to him on the couch. “What are you doing here?”

Red X faded into view with a shrug. “The better question is what are you doing here, kid? I was told you lot were clearing out for your little Family Weekend thing.”

“You were told?”

“Alright, so I might have been eavesdropping on Wonder Babe and Zippy.”

“What are you after?” Robin growled. He stood up and drew his staff as he went over everything in the tower and tried to figure out what Red X would consider worth stealing.

“Calm down,” Red X said, leaning back and putting his feet up on the coffee table. “I just ticked someone off and need a place to lie low for a few days. Didn’t plan to take anything.”

“Right,” Robin said sarcastically. “You didn’t plan to take anything.”

Red X chuckled and held up his hands. “Alright, you caught me. Tell you what. You let me stay and I’ll keep my hands to myself from now until Monday.”

“And return what you’ve already grabbed on your way here?”

It was only thanks to his experience with masks that hid the eyes that the hero could tell Red X was rolling his as he pulled a handful of Robin’s feathers and one of his spare expandable bo staffs from the suit’s hidden pockets. He tossed them onto the table, saying, “You really need to learn how to lighten up, kid.”

Robin lowered his weapon, but didn’t put it away. “Who’d you tick off? And how?”

Red X shrugged and relaxed back onto the couch, grabbing the remote. “The old man. One of the others accidentally got hurt during my last score so now the lot of them are out for blood. They found my place in Jump so it was either skip town until I can get a new place or lay low. And I’m pretty sure skipping town is what they want me to do so here I am. Doubt they’ll think to look for me here.”

“Why would they want you to skip town?” Robin asked as he took in the new information. He’d never realized Red X was part of a team. Who was the old man?

“Uh, because then I’ll have to go back home and that’s their turf,” he said slowly, like it was obvious.

“Where are you from?”

Red X paused in his channel surfing and looked up at him. “You don’t know?”

Robin glared at him.

“No, seriously, you don’t know who I am?”

“I thought I made that clear the first time we met.”

“Yeah, the first time, but…” Red X set down the remote and leaned closer. “Kid, when was the last time you talked to your family?”

That was the final straw.

Robin swung his staff at the thief, who flipped out of the way. Through clenched teeth, he said, “I think the fact I’m here during Family Weekend makes it pretty obvious I don’t exactly have a family to talk to.”

Red X struck out with one of his x’s trying to wrench the staff from Robin’s hands. “Shut up, kid. You can play whatever lost bird act you want for the rest of the world, but we both know you’re one of Batman’s toy soldiers.”

The hero snarled and aimed for the thief's head, but he managed to grab it and disarm him before it made contact. “I’m not a Bat just because I trained with them for a time.”

“Sure, kid.”

“I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but I’ve been a hero outside of Gotham longer than I was one there.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Red X said lowly, tossing the staff aside. “What that idiot was thinking letting Flamebird send you all the way across the country right after Batkid got blown up, I’ll never know.”

Robin flinched back at the accusation before his fists clenched at his sides. “Then you’ll be happy to know no one sent me here. It’s just where I ended up when Batman decided he didn’t want to work with me anymore and tossed me out.”

Red X froze and the hero could feel the thief studying him. When he spoke, there was something sharp and venomous in his tone. “He kicked you out.”

“He kicked me off the team, yeah,” Robin said. “He didn’t want me on the team anymore so I found a new one. Like I said, I’m not a Bat. Why does this even matter?”

“He kicked you out,” Red X repeated. Then he was turning on his heel and marching out.

“Where are you going?”

“Forget hiding out. I’m going to go kill Batman. A nice x to the grapple line will solve all our problems.”

Before Robin could move, Red X teleported away.

“Great,” he growled, running his hand through his hair. He grabbed his tablet and ran to the door. As he rode the elevator down to the garage, he checked the security, running the cameras through all the frequency settings. All that came up were two blips, Red X’s entrance and exit.

As he ran up to his R-Cycle, he considered what to do. He couldn’t just do nothing about an honest death threat (and he knew Red X was serious, even he didn’t understand why), but Batman had made it clear he didn’t want Robin getting involved in Gotham. Maybe if he could get to Red X before he left town…

Well, he’d have to hope he could. If not, he’d have to bribe Dove into passing along the message to Oracle or Batgirl the next time she checked in with the Birds of Prey so they could warn Batman. After that, the thief would be completely out of his hands.

He took his R-Cycle out, but only went as far as the nearest highrise before taking to the rooftops. It wasn’t as effective a tactic in the daylight, but it would still limit the amount he was seen so, hopefully, Irey wouldn’t notice he was out.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do. He’d been trying to locate Red X’s hideout since the thief had appeared, but thanks to the invisibility and teleportation abilities granted by the suit as well as the thief’s own skills and the fact Robin still didn’t know what he looked like under the mask, it was slow going. He’d managed to narrow it down to a certain neighborhood after months of work, but patrolling the area didn’t turn anything up so he couldn’t be sure if Red X was there or if he’d already left.

After two hours with no sign of the thief, he decided to head back in. As he rode back up the elevator, he set up a program to track anyone leaving town for Gotham by train or air and double-checked the algorithm he and Virus had set up to search for Red X on traffic cameras. Neither was likely to turn anything up since Red X was too cautious and Oracle was sure to set up her own once the case was handed over to the Bats, but he had to do something in the meantime.

And if it showed them he knew what he was doing…

Of course, none of that mattered when he walked into the main room of the tower to call Dove and found Red X relaxing on the couch.

“Were you seriously lying about killing Batman?” Robin growled. His anger was less about the thief lying and more because he’d fallen for it, but he was still pretty annoyed all the same.

“Nah. I just realized that you being here also means the others didn’t do anything about the old man kicking you out, and wiping out Gotham’s Bat infestation is going to actually take a bit of planning,” Red X said. That same acidic anger tainted his words, but now it was wrapped in a thin veil of restraint. He could see that same fragilely controlled anger in the thief’s body as he came closer, hidden almost perfectly under his relaxed ruse.

“You really think I’m going to just sit back and let you stay here while you’re plotting murder?” Robin said, stepping in front of the thief and crossing his arms.

“Calm down, kid. I’m not going to do any planning here,” he snorted, tilting his head to see more of the tv around the hero.

“That’s not the point.”

“If you’re worried about being an accomplice, then you’ll be happy to hear you couldn’t stop me if you tried.”

Robin pulled out his staff and Red X went stiff.

“Kid, you do not want to fight me right now. Just sit down and watch the movie.”

“Why?” Robin asked, slipping into a fighting stance. “Why are you even going after the Bats?”

“He kicked you out,” Red X growled, the sound of his control cracking slipping in his voice.

“So?”

Suddenly the thief was on his feet and grabbing the front of Robin’s suit.

The hero tried to strike him with his staff, but he deflected the blow and pulled him in until they were nose-to-helmet.

“He kicked you out! He fucking kicked you out! Not even three months after he put a kid in the ground, you were on the other side of the country fighting aliens! Alone!”

“I was-”

“And where are the others? Have you even talked to them? Have they tried to talk to you? They have to know where you are, even if Oracle wasn’t as semi-omniscient as she is! You and your clubhouse are all over the news! Has she or Orphan reached out? Signal? Batgirl? Hell, Tim might be an ass, but I thought he’d at least check-in to make sure you didn’t get killed.”

Robin’s breath caught in his throat and he choked out, “How -”

“Where the fuck was Damian in all this? Did he seriously not say shit about Bruce tossing his fucking kid out?”

Despite his best efforts, he was shaking. He wasn’t sure if it was because Red X somehow knew who the Bats were or because everything he had been burying and reburying ever since he left Gotham was being unearthed and shoved in his face even worse than it normally was during Family Weekend, but he couldn’t breathe.

“You weren’t even at the funeral!”

Robin flinched so hard he’d jerked himself free off Red X’s grip and toppled backward. He slammed his eyes shut against the sting of tears and ducked his head as he took in ragged breaths.

That was not the Bats’ fault. That was all him, and the guilt would always weigh on him.

He’d been selfish, so lost in his own problems that he’d completely forgotten Jason’s funeral. He only even realized he missed it when he spotted the pictures in the news and read about it in the gossip columns. His absence had been noticed, of course. Bruce and Damian told everyone he was sick since it had been before he’d been gone long enough for them to need the boarding school lie, but some didn’t believe it. Dick had read every horrible word there’d been to read.

He deserved it.

As soon as he’d realized his mistake, he’d bought some flowers and spent hours in the cemetery apologizing over and over again, but he knew it’d never make up for what he’d done.

“Don’t you get it? They already let one kid run off and stupidly get himself killed and then they just -”

Robin was on top of Red X in a second, pinning him against the couch. “Don’t you ever talk about Batkid like that! He… What happened to him… You don’t get to talk about him!”

It was meant to come out a snarl, but the tears he was fighting back rang out clearly.

He expected another quip, or for Red X to at least try to fight, but he just stared up at Robin as he went limp in the pin. “Kid…”

“How do you know who they are?” the hero snapped, wanting to focus on something -- anything -- else.

“I’m so sorry. If I’d known they hadn’t told you…” the thief started softly. “I thought…”

“Thought what?”

They just stared at each other for a moment, then Red X raised his hands.

The hero watched for any signs of an attack, but the thief just brought his hands to the helmet. He hit the release and pulled the helmet off.

Robin’s breath caught in his throat for the second time.

Under the helmet was a domino mask, light grey with black outlining the white lenses. Even still, Robin had seen the boy behind the mask in a domino too many times to not recognize him.

He was older, his hair a bit longer and choppier. He had a few new scars and his hair was a white color in the front that was just a little too bright to be natural. It was him though.

“Jay?”

Jason gave a familiar grin as he let the helmet fall to the floor. “Hey, Dickie.”

Robin threw himself off the older boy, scrambling to his feet and pointing his staff at him. “No. Jason’s gone. Dead. I don’t know who you are or why you look like that, but…” Robin was losing the fight against his tears.

“Red Bird,” Jason said softly. He reached out for Robin and the hero swatted his hand away.

“Don’t! You’re-He’s dead! You can’t be him!” Unless… Jason had to be dead. It couldn’t have been a test.

A test he must have failed. That’s why Bruce…

“No. He has to be dead,” Robin said, shaking his head and taking a step back. “He-You wouldn’t have lied to me about that. Not… Not Jason. He wouldn’t.”

“Oh, Dickie.” Jason came forward, ducking under Robin’s strike to pull him into a hug. “It wasn’t a lie, I promise. I did die. I just… got better.”

“Got better?” Robin sniffed and dropped his arms, not returning the hug or pushing away from it as tears filled his eyes and slipped past the mask. “How do you get better from being dead?”

“Heck if I know,” Jason sighed and eased the mask off Dick’s face. As he gently brushed the tears away, he explained, “I just woke up inside my coffin months later. I didn’t… I wasn’t all there so I ended up just stumbling around Gotham for a few weeks until I got brought to a hospital. The step-mom from hell found me there somehow and stole me away to toss me in one of her stupid green pools.”

“She put you in a Lazarus Pit?” Dick hissed, finally hugging his brother back.

“Yeah. Don’t know if she was trying to hurt Bruce and Damian again by screwing up my head or if she was in one of her Maybe they’ll love me this time! moods and honestly thought it would help. I didn’t stick around to find out, just rampaged through the compound until I was able to escape. I managed to make my way back to Gotham, but…” Jason pressed his face into Dick’s hair and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I expected when I got back, but… I didn’t expect nothing. Bruce was carrying on as usual. Everyone was. And Joker’s just… back in Arkham, ready to escape another day. I died and the only thing that changed was that Damian shipped you off to play with some other kids in California. Except no, he didn’t. Bruce kicked you out! When Damian died, Bruce nearly killed himself in his search for a way to bring him back, to the point that Duke’s gang had to step in to watch the streets and Tim had to step in to watch Bruce. When I died, nothing.”

“Jay -”

“I know I’m not Cassandra ‘Prodigy’ Wayne or Damian ‘Bloodson’ Wayne or Duke ‘Perfect Child’ Thomas or Tim ‘Teenage CEO’ Drake-Wayne, but I thought he’d at least care that I got killed!” Jason snarled, jerking away from Dick to throw his hands in the air before slamming one onto the coffee table, cracking the wood. “I thought he’d at least give a shit about me!”

“Jason -”

He slammed his hand against the table again, and again. “But he doesn’t! Not enough to actually do something about fucking Joker! Not enough to try and bring me back like he did his flesh and blood! He doesn’t care! None of them fucking care about anything but themselves!”

Dick tried to grab his arm, but Jason threw him off.

He turned to the young boy with a glare. “And then you! They just got rid of you! What? Was Bruce so happy to be rid of me he realized he should have cut off the kid acquisitions with Tim? And everyone just agreed with him!”

“Red Wing, please.”

Jason had been taking a step towards Dick, but at his words he spun away. He slammed both his fists into the table with a snarl and it collapsed. He dropped to his knees, breathing heavily.

Dick watched him for a few minutes. Only when Jason stopped shaking and tugging harshly at his hair did he step closer and sit next to his brother. When he wasn’t rebuffed, he pressed their shoulders together. “The pit?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Damian told me how it affects people. Besides, that table gets destroyed so often we start to get antsy if it lasts more than a week,” Dick chuckled and Jason snorted. He nudged his brother gently. “Is this okay?”

“I’d never hurt you, Red Bird,” Jason declared, though a bit of uncertainty leaked into his voice.

Dick set his head on Jason’s shoulder with a frown. “I know. I was asking if you were okay with me touching you.”

The older brother smiled and wrapped his arm around the younger. “I’m always happy to be your pillow.”

“I’m serious, Jay.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “You’re always serious lately.”

“I still know how to have fun,” Dick said. “You just keep catching me in serious situations.”

Jason gave him a disbelieving expression, but before Dick could comment it shifted into a smile. A familiar smile.

That smile promised a lot of fun, but also explosions and weeks of being grounded. It promised lectures from Bruce to Jason about needing to be a better example and from Tim to Dick about how Jason was a bad influence. It promised exasperated yet fond looks from Cass, Babs, and Damian. If Steph was involved, it promised retaliatory pranks when they placed most of the blame on her. If not, then it promised endless complaining for leaving her out. It promised secret smiles from Duke, either because he hadn’t been involved but still thought it was funny or because he had been involved and was thanking them for not ratting him out.

Altogether, that smile promised the best kind of trouble.

“Jay,” Dick started warningly, but Jason just pulled him to his feet.

“Prove it!”

“What?”

“You think you can still have fun, then prove it!” Jason chuckled, grabbing his helmet and towing Dick out of the room. “Let’s go wreck some stuff!”

“Wh-Jay! We can’t -”

“Calm down, we’ll keep it to the bad guys’ stuff so we don’t hurt your delicate sensibilities.”

Dick glanced down at the X on Jason’s suit. “Speaking of which -”

“Nope. That can wait for after Family Weekend. Right now we’re just Red Bird and Red Wing, not Robin and Red X. We can get back to our little cops and robber game when your friends get back.”

Dick knew he should probably argue. Even ignoring the fact Jason had been discussing murder not even half an hour ago, Red X was still a criminal.

But Red X was also a back-from-the-dead Jason and Robin wasn’t allowed to work during Family Weekend.

“Where are we going?” he asked as they stepped out of the elevator onto the residential floor.

“First stop is your room. I left my stuff there since I knew it would be the last place you’d check. One of us should also probably change if we don’t want to raise questions.”

Dick didn’t bother to ask how Jason knew his way around the tower to the point of knowing where his room was. Clearly, he’d been spying on Dick. It was probably something they’d have to talk about later since Dick knew from experience that his teammates would not appreciate it, but it could wait.

“Well you’ve already stolen my clothes once,” Dick pointed out, tugging at Jason’s cape.

Jason rolled his eyes. “If you didn’t want someone to take the suit you should have locked it away better.”

“I put it in a safe!”

“Not a good one.”

Dick slapped his arm. “You were trained by Selina. Your standards are unreasonable.”

“You say that like she didn’t train you too,” Jason snorted then tugged Dick closer so he could wrap his arm around Dick’s shoulder. “I should probably change though. I don’t know how the family will react if they find out we’re hanging out and I’d rather not risk it ruining our weekend. I can take care of them after.”

“Jas-”

“Yep. Sorry. Work talk later. So, Red Bird, you know of any bad guy bases worth ransacking? Or at least an empty factory we can go to town in? I got some new toys I want to try out.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Impulse was tapping her foot in superspeed as she scrolled through her phone.

“And none of you have talked to him since Friday morning?” Wonder Girl asked and she paced across the living area.

“We texted on Saturday, but it was just a quick check-in. He said he was busy, I needed to stop worrying, and he’d see me today,” Nightstar said, not looking up from her book. She seemed for all the world relaxed, but the others had all noticed she hadn’t turned the page in over a half hour.

“There’s still nothing on social media,” Impulse said, refreshing the page. “I found a few mentions just before lunchtime on Friday of someone on the rooftops that could have been him, but that’s it.”

“The same can be said for the news sites,” Virus said from inside the computer. “Robin has not appeared on any of the news sites since our fight with Mother Mae-Eye last week.”

Wonder Girl tried her T-Communicator again and scowled when it wouldn’t connect to Robin’s. “Are you sure he didn’t head over to one of the others’ bases?”

“I had Speedy and Dove on Robin duty so I know he didn’t hit Titans East or North,” Nightstar said.

“And Aquagirl tells Turtle everything so if he’d shown up at Titans South she would have told him and he would have told me so I would know and I don’t so he didn’t,” Impulse said quickly.

Nightstar looked up from her book and squeezed the younger girl’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. We’ll find him. He probably just took off to do some recon and didn’t tell us because he knew we’d yell at him for not taking the weekend off.”

“He’s going to spend the next week locked in a cell if that’s true,” Wonder Girl huffed. “Then he’ll have no choice but to take a break.”

“Robin would just break out,” Virus argued.

“Maybe I should take a run around the city, just in case,” Impulse said, standing up.

“The tracker on Robin’s R-Cycle showed Robin heading out of the city before the tracker was disabled so Impulse likely would not find Robin by running around the city,” Virus pointed out and the girls turned to his computer.

“You didn’t say anything about him leaving town earlier,” Nightstar said.

“Virus did not think the information was relevant. The information doesn’t help the Teen Titans find Robin since the tracker was disabled before any set destination could be determined.”

“Except we had no idea he’d left town until now! When did this happen?”

“Friday afternoon. Robin le-” Virus cut off as an alert came up. “Oh! Someone just accessed the tunnel leading to the garage.”

“Robin?” Nightstar asked, getting to her feet.

“The people in the tunnel used Robin’s codes, but there are two people and both are on foot. The sensors aren't registering Robin’s gear.”

The girls shared a look and ran for the stars, Nightstar calling over her shoulder, “Meet us down there!”

“On the way!”

Impulse ran down the stairs while Nightstar and Wonder Girl flew down the center. They slipped into the garage to find Virus already waiting. The four took defensive positions behind workbenches and toolboxes just as voices began to reach them.

“You owe me a new R-Cycle. And a new communicator. And -”

Impulse perked up at Robin’s voice, but Nightstar waved her quiet before she could react as a second voice answered, “First of all, how was I supposed to know trying to use your fancy walkie-talkie would break it? Who’s stupid design flaw was that?”

“It’s to prevent it from being stolen and used against the Titans.”

“Okay, that’s actually a good idea, but it’s still not my fault. Second, the paint was your idea! Don’t try blaming that on me.”

“You blew up the crates too soon!”

“No, I didn’t! I told you fifteen minutes!”

“You only gave me fourteen!”

“I gave you fifteen!” the unknown voice yelled as two figures walked into the garage.

The first was obviously Robin, though he was dressed more casually than any of the Titans had ever seen him. Gone was the armored suit, replaced with blue jeans and a red hoodie with a bat insignia over the chest. He still wore his domino mask and steel-toed boots, but the latter was speckled with red paint.

The second boy looked around Nightstar’s age. He was tall and broad, but not bulky. He wore a suit similar to Robin’s, but black and plain. A brown leather jacket was thrown over the top with a red bird patch on the shoulder that matched his red domino mask.

The new boy was scowling at Robin, who was scowling back. Even still, both looked completely relaxed and a smirk was tugging at the new boy’s lips.

“Maybe you need a new watch. Or maybe you just forgot how to count. Did you forget eleven was a thing again?”

The new boy jumped at Robin and instantly the two were brawling, throwing punches left and right and trying to pin each other. The fight was clearly well-practiced, in Wonder Girl’s opinion. Not choreographed or restrained, but instead a flurry of movements that showed how the two knew each other’s fighting style enough to both predict most attacks and roll with those they didn’t. Despite just how rough their roughhousing was, she could see neither was actually trying to hurt the other.

The others didn’t quite catch onto that though as all three darted in to break up the fight. Nightstar grabbed the new boy and pinned him against a workbench while Impulse and Virus placed themselves in front of Robin.

“Woah, what? Titans, stand down. Red Wing, don’t hurt her.”

“Don’t hurt her? I’m the one pinned,” the boy gasped dramatically.

“You’re also the one with the souped-up taser,” Robin deadpanned.

The boy smirked and revealed the device in his hand, which crackled with red lightning. He turned it off and tucked it into his jacket as he winked up at Nightstar. “You know, Princess, if you wanted to get all up close and personal, all you had to do was ask.”

Her eyes glowed purple, but Robin grabbed her arm and pulled her away before she could blast the other boy.

“Don’t flirt with my teammates please,” Robin sighed.

“Not my fault you surround yourself with beautiful girls, Kid,” the boy said as he sat up, winking at Wonder Girl this time.

“Who are you?” she demanded, hand falling to her boleadoras.

“What? Don’t recognize me without the x motif and skull mask? I’m hurt.”

“Red X?” Impulse said, glancing between Robin and the boy.

He gave her finger guns while Robin smacked his forehead.

“What is going on?” Virus asked.

“Well, wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome,” Red X said, stuffing his hand in his pockets. “Family Weekend’s been fun, bro. I’ll let you know when I steal a new cycle for you from the old man so you can tell me if I need to add any bells and whistles. Later.”

“You’re not -” Nightstar started, but cut off as Red X dropped something that caused smoke to flood through the garage. “Impulse!”

“He’s already gone,” Robin sighed.

A moment later the ventilation system kicked in and cleared the air to reveal Robin was right.

The four all turned to him and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Sooooooooo… you spent the weekend with Red X?” Impulse asked.

“It’s a long story.”

“Red X called Robin brother?” Virus said.

“A really long story. The short of it is Red’s just been keeping an eye on me, in his own weird way.”

“He stole your suit,” Wonder Girl said and Robin shrugged.

“So are we just supposed to not go after him if he shows up?” Impulse asked.

“No, this doesn’t change anything about how we treat him in the field.”

Impulse opened her mouth, then closed it and shook her head. “Kid Flash is right. You Gothamites are insane when you get together.”

Robin shrugged again. He grabbed the duffle bag he’d dropped when he and Red X had started fighting and turned to the elevator. “I need to make a call then we can check in with the others.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick stared down at his new T-Communicator. He should just call Dove. It would make things easier.

“Barbara Gordon here,” a voice said as the call on the phone in his other hand connected.

Dick took a deep breath and let it out. “Hey, Babs.”

“... Dick?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I-Hey, how -”

“Jason’s going after Bruce.”

“What?”

“He wants to kill him. He wants to kill the whole family, really, but Bruce seems to be his main focus. Damian too, maybe. I don’t know how much trouble he’s been causing so far, but it’s about to get worse.”

“I-You saw Jason?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine. He didn’t have any reason to do anything.”

“You said he was trying to kill the whole family.”

Dick’s breath caught in his throat and his hand tightened around the phone. “Yeah, well, clearly I’m not part of that.”

“Di-”

“He also might try to steal a motorcycle, but that might have been a joke. You should probably keep an eye out either way,” Dick added then hung up. He turned his phone off when it immediately started ringing. He tossed it into his lockbox and flopped down on his bed, throwing an arm over his eyes.

A few minutes later someone knocked on his door. He shut the lockbox and knocked it back into its hiding spot with his foot before calling for them to come in.

Nightstar slipped in, but just shut the door behind her and leaned against it. She waited a moment before saying, “X isn’t Tim or Duke.”

“Never said he was.”

“But he implied he was and you didn’t correct him.”

“Tim and Duke aren’t my brothers, Mandy.”

“By your logic, you don’t have any family at all. So why is X going around calling you brothers?”

Dick didn’t respond.

“Why’d you spend Family Weekend with him? Why are you wearing a jacket you normally keep locked away with all the other Batman-related things you pretend don’t exist?”

Dick frowned and dropped his hand to his hoodie. “It’s not Batman’s logo.”

“Sure, Dick, and I -”

“It’s Batkid’s.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Oh. Oh shit.”

“Mandy.”

“You think he’s… him.”

“He is.”

“Dick, Jason died.”

“Like I said, long story. He is back. The others know it too, considering the call I just had with Bab-Barbara.”

“You actually talked to her,” she said softly, coming to sit next to him.

“I talked at her. She didn’t get to say much. I just needed to warn her and the others about something Jay said and it’s too involved in our civilian identities to trust the message with Dove.”

“Sure, or maybe you just wanted to hear her voice.”

Dick glared up at her. “I want to hear all of their voices, is that what you want me to say? You know I’m not afraid to admit I miss them, it’s just not going to change anything.”

“Admitting it is the first step,” she shot back. “Now do something about it.”

“They don’t want me, Mandy. I’m not going to go crawling back there just to get shunted back into juvie!”

“You don’t know that’s what will happen.”

“Yes, I do!”

She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up so they were eye to eye. “Aren’t you the one who pushed me to reconnect with my mom?”

“That’s different and you know it,” he said, pushing her hands off.

“Why?”

“She’s your mom.”

“And they’re your family.”

“No, they’re not!”

“Di-”

He stood up. “They know where I am! I’m not trying to hide! I didn’t even change my codename! If any of them wanted to talk to me, Babs could easily contact me! At the very least, she or Steph could have Holly give me the message! Or Damian could ask Jon to pass the message to Eliza and she could give it to me! And yet that call is the only time I’ve heard from any of them since the Fight! Why do you think that is?”

“Because you’re terrible at dealing with emotions when they’re your own and the rest of your family is the same or worse,” she deadpanned.

“Just drop it.”

She sighed and got up to leave. She paused before opening the door. “You’re going to have to deal with this one of these days. Probably sooner than you think if you’re going to keep talking to Jason.”

“Doubtful. He isn’t exactly sitting down for tea with the Bats either right now.”

She shook her head and left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A little explanation of characters mentioned

Teen Titans:

Robin - Richard "Dick" Grayson: Foster son of Damian Wayne (15yo)

Virus - Galv-10 "Galvio" of Gex (~16yo in comparison to human development)

Nightstar - Ma’andkori "Mandy" Grace: Daughter of Kory and Artemis Grace (17yo)

Impulse - Iris "Irey" West: Daughter of Wally West, Twin of Jai (15yo)

Wonder Girl - Yara Flor: Daughter of an Amazon and Brazilian God (16yo)

Other Titans:

Turtle - Jai West: Son of Wally West, Twin of Irey (15yo)

Speedy - Dinah "Di" Harper: Second Daughter of Roy Harper (16yo)

Dove - Holly Hall: Daughter of Hank and Dawn Hall (14yo)

Aquagirl - Mareena: Daughter of Kaldur'ahm (14yo)

Supergirl - Eliza Zor-El/Eliza Lutessa Luthor: Clone of Kara and Lena Luthor (13yo)

Bats:

Batman - Bruce Wayne (49yo)

Catwoman - Selina Kyle-Wayne (50yo)

Oracle - Barbara Gordon (41yo)

Orphan - Cassandra "Cass" Wayne: Eldest Child/Only Daughter of Bruce Wayne (36yo)

Flamebird - Damian Wayne: Oldest Son of Bruce Wayne (26yo)

Nightwing - Jon-El/Jonathan "Jon" Samuel Kent: Partner of Flamebird (26)yo

Signal - Duke Thomas: Second Son of Bruce Wayne (23yo)

Black Bat - Timothy "Tim" Drake-Wayne: Third Son of Bruce Wayne (22yo)

Batgirl - Stephanie Brown (21yo)

Red X - Jason Peter Todd-Wayne: Fourth Son of Bruce Wayne (17yo)

#batfam #teen titans #reverse robins #dick grayson #Jason Todd #batkid and robin

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fuzziemutt · 4 years

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Headcanon Background

These are my headcanons following the world of “Do You Understand?”

This is just extra world building and character stuff that I didn’t want bogging down the main story or have established in there for future reference. Some of these headcanons are inspired by fics I’ve read btw. I might add onto this in the future.

WARNING: Minor Spoilers ahead - I do suggest reading this after the story is complete.

-this mostly covers Connor, Nines and Hank because they’re the ones I most often deal with. If anyone asks for the others or I think of some for them I might add em.

MasterList

World:

This is Post Pacifist route and everyone lives (best ending)

The actual events of the game take much longer, the revolution doesn’t end until towards the end of December to January.

Some events of the game went a bit differently since the time is stretched and because mister Cage is dumb. Like Markus can’t do the weird look deviation thing for funsies. And Alice is human (even if not shown). And there were more revolutionary events that aren’t discussed but happened.

Androids are also much more open about their inhumaness, they often act more human like around humans. However, while alone, androids tend to talk via their internal networks most often (some choose to outwardly speak only too, it’s just preference) and refer to themselves in less human manners.

Okay ngl I’m not gonna get into how to fix this mess of a world Cage made, I’m going to idealize some things in this fic (like I made a landlord nice and not much ACAB- or really any cop stuff), this is merely for fic purposes. I ain’t gonna play moral battlefield with Cage’s dumbass for what started as a vent fic. Just know I don’t agree with a lot of the decisions Cage made for this game’s plot.

Connor RK800:

The RK800 model was made with less articulations in his face so as to cut corners given he was meant to just be a trial. -He needs to consciously run facial expression programs and they can be quite awkward.

Same vein, Connor’s constant calibration, while also a stim, lack of tear ducts, and blinking glitch are also due to Cyberlife cutting corners

Connor Has ADHD because I do so he does too

He also stims by pacing or running, but he tends to do this in absolute private.

He likes to change his hair color quite often to differentiate himself from Nines (He would change his eye color if he could), he does have Bryan’s curly hair but he still consistently styles it to the game style.

His wardrobe style consists of button ups (black, white and floral), turtlenecks, a dark grey blazer, knee length black coat, black jeans, and dress shoes (often Cyberlife ones since they’re just slip ons essentially)

He has killed/hunted way more deviants (and humans) than in game Connor. When he isn’t with Hank, Cyberlife ordered him to simply hunt down and dispose of any deviants he could find. (they wanted results they just played nice with the law for show)

While he wasn't cruel and let all deviants he met with Hank go (except Rupert), any deviants he found while "off duty" did not receive the same mercies (some would even be found mangled beyond recognition). Hank really amplified the humanity in him but only when present. It was also easier to ignore orders when he had a scapegoat.

He also remembers all prior iterations of himself; while the corruption in memory is still there, it was used to condition him in “right” from “wrong”.

He spent a lot more time with Amanda especially during early trials as well so his loyalty to her is very deep and she is like a mother figure to him.

This is Connor model -54. Past 3 models deactivation: Fell with Daniel while protecting Emma (Successful mission); Success w/ Carlos’ android, but he still self destructed and got shot in the interrogation room when trying to stop them; Stratford tower kitchen but the deviant crushes his thirium pump before running leaving him unable to be saved.

He did go up to the roof and saw how Simon was left behind, but he thought about how Hank would be displeased if he killed this android in front of him, given prior results, so he left back to the kitchen last second. Simon knows he left him alone but he doesn't know why.

*pats his head* this boy can hold so much unprocessed trauma

Also this Connor is not an “uwu soft boy”, he is a bastard man. A nice bastard man, but a bastard man none the less. He will sell you to Satan for a single corn chip (/j). He is severely touch-starved though.

He is very bad at expressing and showing his true emotions in a way that makes sense since he’s spent the last, however many, iterations putting himself in a tomb of denial, fear and anger in order to survive. He often expresses nothing or in a manner that he feels will benefit him (arguably manipulative but he is in constant survival mode still). (unless he gets too overwhelmed by his own emotions like hella overwhelmed)

He wasn’t necessarily “deviant” when a machine, his social relations and general programming just saw the act of being more emotionally expressive as giving him a higher chance of not being killed by his handlers. Basically “if they think I’m like a cute roomba, they won’t kill me as easily”. He still experienced frustration, fear and other emotions he ignored, but he was under command (with code and external pressures), his own AI just got fucky and advanced without anyone realizing it (from trauma).

The books in his apartment are random books hes bought from a thrift store, but there are some mystery books and a sea creature encyclopedia in the mix. - The manta ray plush is a gift from Hank, the Whale is a gift from Nines.

Connor (Nines) RK900:

He looks and sounds exactly like Connor. Height, build, face, voice and everything is the exact same except he has blue eyes.

Arguably Nines’ system name is still registered as “Connor” but he just never felt the need to change it since he just goes by Nines anyways.

He has more articulations in his face, even more than the average android, and he tends to take advantage of this. He does feel bad sometimes after being a walking reminder that Connor meant nothing to Cyberlife, but they both tend to not want to talk about that and just ignore it. He doesn’t know how deep Connor’s jealousy goes though.

Given he activated deviant, he really isn’t sure what being a machine is like or having to follow orders. This sometimes is a disadvantage as he doesn’t get sometimes why androids, like Connor, would lean so heavily onto their old programming.

This also means, he’s very expressive and open about his emotions. They were free so why would he try hiding what he felt ? (This can sometimes get him in trouble)

Where Connor changes his hair, Nines wears very loud and vibrant clothing, if he finds a shirt that screams ugly he will wear it. His usual get up is asymmetrical colored button ups, whatever pants he grabs that morning, dress shoes (don’t worry they’re ugly too) and his favorite highlighter neon yellow and orange hooded jacket. He also tends to change into more comfy wear when at his room in New Jericho.

He is partnered with Gavin Reed, but those two really aren’t friends and never will be. Nines can handle him just fine at work but he would never invite that man anywhere near him after it. He is friends with most of the DPD. People find him really friendly and enjoy talking to him.

He also owns a cat named Clem, not much is known about her because she’s really shy.

While he still has access to the base zen garden program, the program is not connected to anything and never had the Amanda AI implemented yet. Since he was never rolled off the press properly and Amanda was set to change connections to the new model set when Connor was done, it never happened.

He was released from Cyberlife storage due to an agreement between them and Markus that all remaining prototypes would be released and androids would have access to the tower in order to produce biocomponents and parts (Cyberlife still owns the building arguably and has access to any info/security there though). He’s honestly not that close to the Jericho leadership despite everything. He talks to them every once in a while but he doesn’t actively talk to them.

Arguably yes he is one of many RK900s, but for sake of story, he is the -84 model of the series and the only one we will see.

Hank Anderson:

After the revolution, he offers Connor a place to stay out of worry. He won’t admit it, but he had a gut feeling con man wasn’t doing well (he was right)

He does work on his drinking problem, but he still has a lot of issues and sometimes relapses. He’s slowly getting better.

He’s like a dad figure to Connor but he isn’t his dad. He gives guidance, but he also gets that Connor is arguably a full grown adult even if he is emotionally like 1 years old. He kinda is a dad to Nines too, but this isn’t as focused on in the story. While he is a bit less grumpy (aggressive) enter Connor, he still a bit of a sour boot most of the time. He just is sober while doing it now. He started wearing a ponytail after the revolution to keep his hair out of his face. He lets Connor trim it every once in a while, but he can’t bring himself to go back to the short style. This Hank adopted Cole as a baby after finding him at a crime scene. He never got married. (He jokes about having an ex-wife out of a sense of compulsory heteronormativity and because it’s funny to him) He used to treat Gavin like a son of sorts before Cole’s death, but practically dropped him afterwards which is why Gavin is doubly hostile towards him. The house he lives in now is not the same house he lived in when Cole was alive. He also got rid of a lot of Cole’s stuff when moving (The toys and clothes he kept are in a box in the garage).

#i write #dbh #detroit: become human #do you understand #long post

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feisties · 4 years

Text

choose your own adventure

pairing: blue sargent x henry chang x richard gansey iii prompt: college AU word count: 1,107 warnings: none notes: #13 from this, written for nonbinarycasmund. it’s a tiny bit different from the original prompt but i hope you like it!

There’s a lot of things from living on a co-ed floor that Blue can tolerate. She can live with the kitschy pranks, the perpetual smell of weed, and the occasional excessive banging of a headboard against a wall. She can even learn to appreciate the stilted but well-meaning greetings with acquaintances in the bathroom. But she reaches her breaking point tonight.

Tonight, someone is playing the song September on their floor.

Loudly.

On repeat.

The worst part is that the music plays in surround-sound; the source of the song keeps moving from one spot to the other. It sounds almost as if the band Earth, Wind, and Fire is wandering around hopelessly on the fourth floor of a university dormitory with no way out.

She starts to go crazy around the tenth time the song replays—who’s counting? She certainly isn’t—but after the eighteenth play there’s finally a long, forgiving silence, like maybe the source has decided to put itself out of its own misery.

She breathes out a heavy sigh of relief.

Then the beginning of September plays for the nineteenth time.

It’s basically an invitation for homicide, at this point.

Blue’s already climbing out of her bed on the twenty-second play, ready to search everyone’s room and possibly commit arson, when someone knocks at her door.

The knocks come fast, frantic, and utterly without consideration for the person on the receiving end. When she swings open the door, a male voice immediately blurts: “Do you have our roomba?”

Blue blinks.

There’s not just one male standing in front of her, but two of them. Unfortunately for her, they’re both upsettingly handsome, wearing pajama bottoms and threadbare T-shirts which hang off their shoulders in ways that she hates herself for admiring. One of them watches her behind pretentious wide-rimmed wire glasses and the other has an astonishing amount of product in what looks like gravity-defying hair, despite it being midnight.

The two of them are looking right back at Blue with the same startled curiosity, like she’s an alien species or perhaps a small, missing lap dog that’s run away from home. Either way, there’s a hint of a feral fascination behind the poor attempt not to gawk.

“What?” she squeaks.

The one in the glasses recomposes himself fairly quickly, with an easy, charming tilt to his mouth.

The one with the giant hair seems to make no indication of recomposing himself and smiles rakishly.

“I like your pajamas,” he says.

This time Blue gawks.

She is suddenly, horribly, vividly aware of the cat print on her pajama bottoms, and even more aware of how both boys’ eyes flicker to the spot where her shorts meet her bare legs. The simultaneous urges to blush violently, preen under their gazes, and yell at them for staring makes her so apoplectic she can barely breathe.

She finally manages, “Excuse me?”

“Sorry about him,” says the other boy wearily without additional explanation, seemingly pulling himself out of his own reverie, but the way he’s peering down at her now over the gold rims of his glasses suggests that his apology may not have been all that sincere. “We’re being extremely rude for knocking on your door this late. I’m Gansey. This is my roommate, Henry. And your name is…?”

“Blue. Blue Sargent.”

He regards her.

“Are you sure?”

She sputters. “Am I sure about my name?”

“You look like a Jane to me,” he says thoughtfully. “Is Jane your middle name, by any chance?”

Once again overcome by seething disbelief, she doesn’t answer.

“So, Blue Sargent,” Henry interjects with his alarming energy, “as I mentioned, we’re looking for our roomba.”

“Your roomba,” Blue repeats.

“Yes,” says Gansey. His smile indicates that he has all the time in the world, but the faint sound of September playing for twenty-third time clearly pinches at the edges of his mouth. He looks a bit wan, almost apologetic. “Perhaps you’ve heard of it. It’s a mobile vacuum cleaner. It runs on its own.”

“I know what a roomba is,” she answers crossly.

“You might also have heard the music playing on repeat—”

“Oh, that?” Her voice is only a little scathing, but both boys flinch in front of her like they’ve been slapped. “Yeah, I might have heard it around a few times.”

“It’s connected by bluetooth,” Henry explains. “We’ve been playing music to find it.”

“And you needed to find it in the middle of the night.”

“I suppose we did,” Gansey answers breezily, but the edges of his voice are clipped, as if it actually is a concern of his that he’s refusing to voice out of courtesy.

There’s only one dignified response to that answer: it’s a loud, long-suffering sigh that she indulges in with an emphasis that’s not entirely necessary but wholly deserved.

It doesn’t seem to be having its usual effect.

Henry seemingly pushes past it with a determined geniality. He leans a lazy, tanned arm against her door frame and surveys her room enthusiastically.

“So. Is the roomba in your room?”

She chokes out a strangled laugh. “Do you think it’s here?”

“Do you have any information on its whereabouts?” Henry presses. “Have you seen it nearby?”

“I—no.”

In the distance, the song fades out.

Then the guitar in the opening sequence blares tinnily for the twenty-fourth time.

“God, at this point, I’ll go find it myself,” Blue cries without meaning to.

She regrets the words the instant they leave her mouth.

Two pairs of eyes snap to hers.

“Jane,” Gansey says. “That’s a fantastic sentiment.”

Blue blanches. “It was a joke.”

Their heads tilt pensively at the same time to study her, boyish and unabashed. She has a vague feeling that she should be annoyed, but for some reason she can’t muster up the energy to bristle. In fact, she might even be a little charmed by how bright their expressions are.

She’ll blame it on being sleep deprived.

“Blue Sargent,” Henry says solemnly, “how would you like to go roomba-hunting with us?”

There are a million reasons to say no. But the way the two of them are pouting at her, shamelessly hopeful and a little juvenile, makes her forget most of those reasons. It’s—unexpectedly disarming.

Then Henry’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and something flexes in Gansey’s forearms when he crosses his arms across his body which—okay, is an unfair amount of disarming. A criminal amount of disarming. Especially at once.

“We’re great company,” adds Henry, flashing bright, white teeth at her.

“And then we’ll make it up to you,” Gansey promises.

The sincerity of his tone is just enough to convince her. And from the way they exchange glances, conspiratorially, meaningfully, and fix lingering looks at the way she folds a leg over the other, she has a feeling that they’ll make it up to her in very thorough, voluntary ways.

Well. It wasn’t really like she was going to get much sleep tonight, anyway.

Blue huffs.

She tucks her arms across her chest.

She pinches her mouth together to suppress a smirk.

“It sounds like the music is coming from the left,” she says finally, hiking up an eyebrow. She slips between the two of them and the warmth from both bodies feels exciting. Worth the late night, she thinks grudgingly. “And close the door behind you, would you?”

#nonbinarycasmund #i tried to format it on the original ask but it kept formatting weird so here we are #the raven cycle #the raven cycle*#blue sargent #richard gansey #henry cheng #sarchengsey #blue sargent x henry cheng x richard gansey #my fic*#drabble*#the funny thing is i promised myself i wouldnt write for trc a long time ago but this prompt was so so fun #might actually write more of them in the future

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writeyouin · 5 years

Text

Swerve X Reader – A Human Crewmate - Chapter 21

Chapter 21 - A Happy Ending

A/N – I cannot believe that I’ve got to this point. I loved getting here, but I’m sad to see it go. Fine, if we must part ways then I’m glad it’s to a happy ending. Based on headcanons by @rocksinmuffin and @straightouttacybertron and starring fan art by the miraculous @bloodypoptart

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Rodimus pouted from his position on the balcony overlooking the entire crew. This was where he usually made announcements, but no, this time you had called for an announcement and Megatron had simply agreed to whatever it was you were about to say. If you only relayed what you were going to say then Rodimus would say it for you, but no, apparently you were going to take one of the best parts of his job away. You assured him it was only going to be this once but he highly doubted that, once you found out how great it was to say anything you wanted while everyone else was forced to listen.

You glanced over to Rodimus sympathetically as if reading his thoughts. He gave a sarcastic thumbs up, indicating you were to start, although he already knew what you were going to say with Swerve stood by your side. Everyone already knew you were dating, thanks to Rewind. This was clearly an announcement to say so officially, probably to save face after the week’s earlier embarrassment. It’s not like he couldn’t say that for you. On his spot. On his ship. As Captain. But it was fine, he wasn’t jealous or anything, so long as you would hurry it up already so he could get back to actually following his quest… as Captain.

While Rodimus heaved a dramatic sigh, which you ignored, you looked at Swerve, silently affirming that he was ready. Swerve grabbed your hand, giving a small squeeze to let you know he was as prepared as he could be, though he was secretly more frightened than he’d ever been in his entire life, including all the years he’d spent in the war; war was inevitably something all Cybertronians were used to, commitment and marriage were much scarier. In war, you could choose to rely only on yourself if it was so desired, in a marriage, you suddenly weren’t alone anymore and as such had so much more to lose.

“You sure you want me to do this?” You whispered to him as the crowd below started to get restless; it reminded you of your first day on the ship, when you had to be publicly announced for the crew to assimilate to you.

“They’ll take it from you better,” Swerve said supportively, but what he really meant was that he had to hear it from you, if only to further prove the wedding was still happening and he wasn’t forcing you into it somehow.

You took a deep breath, not needing to ask for the crew’s attention as all optics were trained on you; even those who couldn’t leave their posts were undoubtedly watching you over the vid-screens. “Hi,” You waved somewhat awkwardly. Rodimus rolled his optics and came over with a microphone, thinking about how he never needed one when it was him making the speeches.

You nodded in thanks, hefting the heavy microphone that was made for Cybertronian size and was almost the same length as your torso. “Okay everyone, so it’s pretty obvious me and Swerve are dating but that’s not what I’m here to announce. Look, before I say what I’ve got to say, well… I’m- Uh, we’re not here to seek validation or for you to ask a bunch of questions or anything like that, it’s just, me and Swerve… Well, um, we’re getting married.”

You bit your lip, waiting for an uproar or maybe some cheering or even a deafening silence. You got neither the reaction you expected nor wanted, as almost the entire crew burst into fits of laughter.

You looked to Swerve for support, but he simply shrugged his shoulders, unsurprised that the crew thought it was all some kind of epic joke. You glanced at Rodimus, who was also in hysterics. Speaking into the microphone again, you said, “Hey, this uh, isn’t a joke, I’m serious, we really are getting married.”

Nobody heard you, but deep in the crowd, Rung, Chromedome, Rewind and Whirl were watching you very closely, knowing that you spoke the truth.

Whirl shook his head, deciding to take control of the situation once and for all. He blasted a loud shot into the ceiling from the one gun he’d managed to hide from Ultra Magnus and always carried around with him for such events that might be made more entertaining with bullets. The room fell silent as Whirl shouted, “THE NEXT PERSON TO LAUGH GETS VENTILATED. NOW, I DON’T KNOW WHAT (Y/N) SEES IN THAT IDIOT, FRAG, SHE’S PROBABLY JUST IN IT FOR THE FREE DRINKS BUT IT’S CLEAR THAT SHE’S NOT JOKING. YOU ALL SAW HOW SHE KISSED HIM ON THAT DAMN TAPE. SWERVE’S GOT GAME, I GUESS.”

You didn’t know what to say now that your entire speech had been derailed. You half expected things would get even crazier or that Ultra Magnus would interject, and it would turn into another debate about gun control. Instead, the entire room turned to you for confirmation and Ultra Magnus was too distracted to help as he cringed at the burn mark on the ceiling, clearly upset that his none of his Roomba armada would be able to reach the ceiling to clean it; besides that, he’d already lost far too many Roombas to the ‘secret’ fights the crew held.

“Yeah…” You said anxiously. “What Whirl said.”

Nobody said anything for a long time and finally Rodimus stepped forward, placing a comforting servo on your shoulder and smiling confidently. You thought he was the first to congratulate you in his own way, but little did you know, he was simply happy to be back in control with what he planned to do next.

“You heard the happy couple,” He beamed. “WE’VE GOT A WEDDING TO PLAN!”

Finally, there was a small cheer as everyone came to terms with what was happening. “Okay,” Rodimus said, “So I’m thinking we’ve got a lot to do and little time. Seven cycles sounds about right.”

You glanced at Swerve, seeing how everything was completely out of your hands; in seven days the two of you would be married. Everything in your life since joining the Lost Light had happened in whirlwind time, it should have been no surprise that your wedding would be no different.

“Alright,” Rodimus continued as he began pointing out people in the crowd, “Brainstorm and Perceptor, you two are on the (Y/N)’s bride outfit. Ultra Magnus, catering detail. Rewind, I want all kinds of documentation, I’m talking films, interviews with the bride and groom on their take on the love story, get everything you can. Blaster, you’re on music. Ten, Tailgate and Cyclonus, You three are on decorations.”

Cyclonus scowled, but before he could argue, Rodimus shouted his name, “HEY, DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT! YOU NEVER USE THAT SWORD FOR ANYTHING USEFUL ANYMORE ANYWAY… Primus, at least use it to cut up some origami or something. What does that leave… Mirage, you’re on bartending duty since Swerve can’t be and, let’s see, um…”

Swerve stepped forward to protest his distaste for Mirage, his chief contender, serving drinks at his wedding, but you held him back, “You really wanna serve drinks at your own wedding?”

Swerve sighed, and wrapped his arm around you, “I guess not, but the reception will be at my bar, not his.”

“Whatever you need to sleep at night, handsome,” You patted his chassis.

Rodimus practically glowed as he made his final announcement, “And last but certainly not least, only I can be the priest or whatever as the Captain of th-”

“CO-CAPTAIN,” A voice from the throng called.

Rodimus leaned over the railing, curling his fist angrily, “WHO SAID THAT?!”

Nobody answered, and Rodimus straightened up, pouting. “Fine, as Co-Captain I will officiate, Megatron can… I dunno, Megatron can be Swerve’s best man I guess.”

Megatron gritted his dentae and while he and Rodimus argued it out, Swerve looked at you pitifully, “Should I even try arguing this one?”

You gave his servo a squeeze, “Honestly, I don’t think you’d win.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

The two of you held onto one another, the calm in the eye of the storm until Rodimus said, “Till all are one,” marking that the speech was over.

“Hey,” Swerve said, “You okay to be on your own for a while? I’ve got to sort something out… It’s a surprise.”

You smiled, “How intriguing. You think you can keep a secret?”

“Every once in a while,” Swerve chuckled.

“You know, it’s bad to keep secrets in a marriage, this could very well destroy us.”

“We’re not married yet.”

“Fine,” You said playfully, “Keep your secrets. It’s just as well, I’ve got to see Rung anyway.”

Swerve kissed your head lovingly and the two of you parted ways, each on your own little mission, preparing to begin a new adventure, together.

It was taking you much longer than usual to get to Rung’s because every time someone saw you, they stopped to congratulate you, and more than once, you found your path blocked by various wedding preparations. You even heard talk that some of the bots were struggling to rearrange Swerve’s; you hoped that wasn’t true because if it was, Swerve was going to have an aneurism.

Finally, your goal was in sight and you foolishly thought you were going to make it to Rung’s office until you were once again plucked out of the air by Whirl who threw you into a supply closet, locking the door behind himself.

You remembered the days you used to be afraid of such a situation, now they had become your normal. Although breathless by the impromptu kidnapping, you decided you still had to thank Whirl for his earlier rescue in the speech, if it wasn’t for him, none of the ship’s hubbub would be happening right now.

“Whirl, I-”

Whirl waved his claw casually, “Yeah, yeah, can it fleshie, I got something important to say. ‘Kay, now I’m not saying that marrying Swerve is bad but I’ve gotta ask, you sure you don’t wanna switch to a real mech?” He pointed to himself. “I’m a real prize, y’know. Nobody can take me in a fight. Tell me, what’s better than that?”

You couldn’t help yourself as you doubled over laughing, holding onto his leg for support, “Whirl, what the hell man?”

“Don’t blow this off so easily, really think about it, this is a one-time offer, trading Swerve for me.”

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, still snickering. “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass, but hey, if you would do me a favour and be my mech of honour, that’d be great.”

Whirl had seen enough of the films in Swerve’s bar to know what you were asking. He rolled his optic sarcastically, “You have no idea of what we could’ve had but sure, go with the orange guy. Fine, I guess I can be the mech of honour… Does that mean I get to kill Swerve if he runs?”

“I- Um- Maybe try not to do that.”

“What about stabbing him a little?”

“I’d uh- rather have him kept whole.”

“Gotcha,” Whirl attempted a wink, which ended up being one unusually long blink. “Psychological torture and a light-beating only.”

You patted his leg in a supporting manner, “Sure, that sounds like a deal.”

Turning around, Whirl unlocked the door, letting you out first. “As your mech of honour, I’m gonna go train. Gotta get buff if that orange scumbag tries to run. Primus, I hope he runs.”

You blew Whirl a kiss, which he tried hard to ignore blushing slightly anyway, “You do that big guy; you’ll be the best mech of honour a girl could have.”

Whirl walked away, leaving you to finally get to Rung’s office. You jumped up to the door buzzer, taking three attempts before you managed to press it, silently cursing yourself for not wearing your rocket boots.

Rung opened the door, a look of surprise contorting his features. He thought he’d be the last bot you would want to see, considering his slightly strained relationship with Swerve. “(Y/N), what a pleasant surprise. Is this a professional meeting or a social call?”

He highly doubted it was the latter, becoming further shocked when you claimed it to be just that. Settling himself down in his chair, and giving you a boost to the desk, he waited for you to set the tone of the conversation, ever conscious that if he spoke first, he would blur the lines between patient and friend. Although he didn’t fully approve on your and Swerve’s hasty decision, he was determined to be supportive, afraid that if he wasn’t you would stop visiting him in both personal and professional terms.

When it became clear that you weren’t sure how to start, Rung found it impossible to ignore his processor, and spoke up quietly, “Presumably, you’re set on your decision so I’ll spare the lecture and simply ask, is this definitely what you want?”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, looking Rung in the optics, “More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. I love him Rung. He makes me feel safe and God, so, so happy.”

Rung nodded, satisfied with you answer, “Very well. Then I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you. I um- Excuse me for getting straight to the point but I need to know something, how much do you know about human weddings?”

“Not a lot, I’m afraid.”

You paced the table, taking time to find the right words, “Right… well, me and Swerve have decided that we’re going to somehow mesh our traditions, one wedding with the Endurae Ceremony thrown in. In human weddings there’s this role I need filling and it’s super important to pick the right person.”

Rung observed you, waiting for you to ask his advice on who to pick. He sighed, deciding to intervene before things got out of hand, “(Y/N), I cannot influence your choices on who to choose during your ceremony. It would be unethical-”

You grabbed his servo, “I want you to walk me down the aisle like the father of the bride is supposed to.”

Although Rung didn’t know what the significance was behind your request, he could tell from the tone of your voice that it was an important role. He took off his glasses, wiping away some coolant, “(Y/N), you’re sure about this?”

“Rung, you’ve guided me since my first steps on this crazy ship. You’ve made me a better person, and there is nobody I’d rather have giving me away than you. You’re the closest thing I have to a dad here and I want you by my side on my wedding day.”

Graciously, Rung bowed his head, “It would be my honour and a pleasure.”

You grinned, jumping to hug his chassis, feeling the comforting warmth of his arms wrapping around you, “Thank You.”

Rung stroked your back, waiting till you pulled away from him before speaking again. “The pleasure is all mine, though if you could tell me more about my role and how I am to fulfil it, that would be greatly appreciated.”

“Yeah, sure. Well, to put it-”

You were interrupted by the sound of a gong echoing over the ship’s announcement system, followed by Rodimus’ impatient voice. “(Y/N), how many times have I gotta tell you to carry around your communicator? Honestly, it’s zero, but you’re slipping, forgetting it in your room. Do you know how rude that is? What if we needed to track you? Like we did, right now, today, for a VERY important thing.”

You stared at Rung, silently begging him to tell you your communicator hadn’t really been bugged with a tracking device like you would give a dog or child. Rung raised his servos sympathetically as Rodimus continued his rant.

“What? You think I’m gonna tell you what the super cool thing is. Guess again. But if you’re not in rec-room 2B in ten minutes- wait, scrap that, make it twenty, gotta account for those tiny little legs… so cute. Anyway, twenty minutes, or I make no promises on what I’ll do to your room. Captain out!”

You shook your head disbelievingly, “I uh, I guess I have to go. Sorry Rung, rain check?”

Rung chuckled light-heartedly, “Yes, of course. Go find out what Rodimus wants, and don’t worry about me. I’m going to do all the research I can into human weddings.”

He helped you down from the desk, wishing you well as you ran down the hallways, trying to beat the timer Rodimus had set, and cursing the entire time as a cramp formed, hitting you like a needle every few seconds.

When you finally got to rec-room 2B, Rodimus was waiting outside, tapping his pede. “Primus, did you skip leg day? I’ve been waiting here forever,” He whined.

You held your hand up, ready to argue, but quickly let it drop, still trying to catch your breath.

Rodimus shook his head, placing a servo on the small of your back and guiding you into the room where a table was waiting with three seats. Cyclonus sat on the left seat and Nautica on the right, leaving the tall, middle seat for you. With Nautica’s assistance, you clambered up, watching Rodimus as he ran out of the room.

“What’s going on?” You asked worriedly.

“Don’t know,” Nautica said. “Rodimus dragged me in here as quickly as he could. Told me if I waited long enough, he’d get me a whole set of new tools… I think that was a lie.”

You nodded thoughtfully, turning to the ever stoic Cyclonus. “Tailgate,” He answered curtly, as if that was any kind of explanation.

Rodimus, re-entered the room, placing both servos on his cheeks, his mouth forming into a socked ‘O’ as if he never knew you were there. “Why, what have we here?” He asked loudly, strutting in front of the table like a peacock. “Well, if it isn’t our table of judges for the brand new, one-time-only, mech of honour contest! Today, for our three judges, we have a line a mile long, full of hopeful contestants to be (Y/N)’S MECH OF HONOUR!” He revved his engines excitedly.

“Uh, Rodimus,” You squeaked, thinking of Whirl. “I already-”

“AND HERE’S CONTESTANT NUMBER ONE!”

Tailgate skipped in, clearly having been trained by Rodimus on exactly where to stand. His visor flashed eagerly as he waved at you.

Rodimus patted him on his shoulder, “Tailgate, why don’t you tell our panel a little bit about yourself and why you deserve to be (Y/N)’S MECH OF HONOUR!”

“Are you gonna shout that every time?” Nautica asked almost boredly, thinking of the tools she would never get.

“Withhold any comments until after the audition please, judge Nautica,” Rodimus commanded, his optics still trained on Tailgate who began his audition.

“Hi, I’m Tailgate and I’d make a great mech of honour for the same reasons I’d make a great Co-Co-Captain.”

A few other mechs peaked in from outside, trying to determine what they were supposed to say during their auditions.

“Rodimus,” You smiled awkwardly, feeling it stretch too far across your face.

“Not now judge,” Rodimus waved you off.

You sighed, seeing that there were no other options. “I already have a mech of honour!” You told the room, “I picked Whirl earlier.”

Riptide booed from outside, and Tailgate began muttering to himself, “Don’t get to be mech of honour, don’t get to be Co-Co-Captain, don’t get to be anything.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but I didn’t know you were planning any of this,” You gestured at the line of mechs who were blocking the door to listen in.

“(Y/N),” Rodimus held his helm in his palm. “(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N)… You know how impulsive I am, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Don’t blame me!”

“I blame you!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling the disappointment surrounding you. “Ugh, fine, I guess I can have two bridesmai- uh bridesmechs.”

Upon hearing this, Tailgate pushed Rodimus away from you, “As I was saying. I would be the best candidate for a tonne of reasons, right Cyclonus?” He winked.

“I’m not going to be a part of this,” Cyclonus deadpanned, leaving the room solemnly.

“Wha- CYCLONUS, COME BAAAACK,” Tailgate whined, chasing after him.

Nautica pulled out her datapad, making a note. “Hmm, chases after his own personal problems instead of focusing on the bride. Not a good quality in a bridesmech. Too bad, he was doing so well until then.”

You smirked, amused with how scientific she was even now; it looked like most of the decisions of the contest would be up to her for the rest of the game Rodimus had dragged you both into.

“Contestant number two, we are waiting for you,” Rodimus called, in a game-show host kind of voice.

Riptide stepped forward, “Hi, I’m Riptide, but all my friends call me… uh Riptide.”

You snickered into the palm of your hand, finally beginning to see the appeal in Rodimus’ game, even if it was to be a long one, judging by the ever-growing queue outside.

Swerve hugged you close to him, wrapping you in your blanket that he’d moved over to his berth along with an assortment of pillows. You had already told him of your long day and how it ended with you picking Nautica, Tailgate, Rewind, Chromedome, and Riptide as your bridesmechs, mainly because everyone kept complaining until you did.

“A gaggle,” You groaned. “I have a gaggle of bridesmaids.”

“Bridesmechs,” Swerve corrected you playfully.

“They’re like Gremlins! Spill water on one and it multiplies.”

“Primus, I love you,” Swerve murmured at the reference.

You peeked up at him, frowning suddenly, “Hmm, you’re awfully quiet tonight. What’s going on?”

“I’ve been talking.”

“Yeah, talking but not babbling. What’s with that? I mean- Wait!” You sat up, “Are you trying to keep your secret thing quiet by not talking.”

Swerve blushed, going ridged, “NO!”

You slapped his chest, grinning idiotically, “You totally are. What is it? Come on, tell me!”

Swerve mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?”

He nodded vigorously.

“I bet I can get those lips open.”

He shook his head. You placed a single finger under his chin, drawing him close to you and kissing him, slipping your tongue in to rub against his metal one. He moaned into your mouth, accepting defeat, even when you pulled away.

The two of you laid down again, and Swerve finally spoke, albeit quietly, “Are you happy?”

“Of course, why do you ask?”

“It’s just… in Mork and Mindy, they waited four years for the slow burn until Mork proposed to Mindy. Four seasons, that’s like four years for you guys. Are you sure I’m not rushing you?”

You stroked Swerve’s cheek, “I think this is more like a Sam and Diane kind of thing in Cheers.”

“Sam and Diane… (Y/N), are you breaking up with me?”

“What? No, they get together in like, season one.”

“And then they repeatedly break up and they finally stop seeing each other after breaking off their engagement in the season four finale.”

“Really? God, I have got to see more of that show.”

Swerve let go of you, “You haven’t seen all of cheers?!”

“Save it for the honeymoon babe. What I meant was, they spend ages beating around the bush until they’re finally together and then it’s a full-on relationship, in season one at least. Now come on, no more Cheers talk, tell me at least a little bit about your day, pretty please.”

“Fine,” Swerve huffed, “But the Cheers thing isn’t over, it’s just on hold.”

You nodded agreeably.

“What to tell you, what to tell you… Oh, I chose our song for the first dance.”

“Is it one of those funny ones where we pretend to slow dance then pick out a hip-hop number?”

“W—well, not uh, not really,” Swerve stammered, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as his cooling fans kicked on. “I-I mean we could do that if you want, but I was thinking something more traditional?”

“Really? I thought you’d like an opportunity to show off.”

“I uh- I guess we could. I’d have to pick a different song but if that’s what you want then…”

Seeing how much Swerve wanted his traditional dance made your heart flutter. You pecked his lips, “No, whatever you’ve picked will be perfect, I just know it.”

“I’m still not telling you what song it is,” Swerve smiled.

“Oh, come on,” You pouted, “I’d tell you. Man… I cannot believe you can keep a secret.”

“Speaking of secrets… I’ve been thinking about how to integrate the four acts of The Conjunx Rites into a human wedding and, uh… how much do you know about the Conjunx Rites, by the way?”

“Between my vast knowledge of everything? I know… nothing.”

Swerve vented his fans anxiously, “Um, the first act is the act of intimacy.”

You bit back a laugh, thinking of the night before with Swerve between your legs. Reaching over and tracing your fingers lightly over his interface panel, you winked, “Pretty sure we already got that one covered.”

Swerve blushed and stammered on, “I-I was thinking we c-c-could just hold hands or something, for the crowds.”

You giggled, and stopped teasing him, keeping your hands to yourself, “Alright, then what?”

“I’m gonna save Act 2 for last because I dunno, we’re rebels and kinda screwing with tradition as it is, so next is the act of profference. We have to give each other a gift of some kind.”

Reaching behind him, Swerve pulled a small orange metal box from underneath the mountain of pillows. “I want to give you this officially on the day, but I think you should see it now.”

Wordlessly, you took the box, opening it to find a plain purple ring, the likes of which you’d never seen before. While you stared at it, Swerve started explaining.

“I don’t know if you’ll get it, but it’s made out of my innermost energon… Percy found a way to stabilize it into a metal, so, uh, well, it’s important to me and I’ll explain if you need me to.”

As it happened, you didn’t need Swerve to explain; you already knew that receiving inner-most energon was the highest form of love and respect you could receive from a Cybertronian.

“I get it,” You said quietly, wiping your eyes free of tears.

Trying to alleviate the sombre, yet joyous mood, Swerve said, “Brainstorm wanted to make it, but he was planning to inscribe it with ‘One Ring to Rule Them All.’ There’s still a good chance, he’ll put something like that on your dress.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. Closing the box gently, you handed it back to him, “I don’t know what I can possibly give you that could ever match up to that.”

“You’ve already given me something though (Y/N).”

“Please do not say that boxset of ‘Three Men and a Baby’ I found.”

“(Y/N), you’re exempt from act three because you’ve already given me something nobody else could; a reason to live.”

You looked up, shocked and afraid, despite his happy tone. You were about to say something when Swerve got the ball rolling again with act four. “The final act is the act of devotion, which is to perform a spectacular demonstration of love. I think we can both agree that’s the wedding.”

“So, then what’s act two?” You whispered, feeling an almost electric atmosphere once you asked.

“The Act of Disclosure, which I think we should do here and now, otherwise it kind of defeats the object of telling an intimate secret… We can’t really do that in front of a crowd.”

Swerve waited with bated breath to see your reaction; asking someone who wasn’t prepared to reveal something intimate about themselves wasn’t exactly comforting.

“I…” You took a deep breath. “On Earth, there was always so much pressure to find someone who you’re meant to be with. They don’t really show it on TV, but we are told all the time that we have to find somebody or die alone, there’s never any time to relax or be free under so much damn pressure and it is terrifying to think that we- that I was brainwashed into it just like everyone else. ”

“I never trusted anyone enough to think of them as someone I’d want to be with. When I got here, I acted more confident and mature and, I um, guess it was kind of a clean slate for me. I never actually expected that I’d find someone to spend my life with but suddenly, when the pressure to fall in love was off, I met you. Swerve, you are my happy ending, when I didn’t think I could have one anymore. I don’t um- Is that what you were thinking? Is it intimate enough? I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be do-”

Swerve pulled you into a hug, his entire body convulsing in silent sobs. Suddenly, you knew why this step was so important, and so you held him, until he was ready to share his secret.

Swerve shook himself, as if trying to physically shake his nerves away, though it was evident he couldn’t as his vocaliser filled with static when he spoke. “Um, I’ve… Let’s face it, I’ve lived through a war. I’ve seen horrible things, done worse sometimes but that’s no secret of any Cybertronian. My secret is- W-What I’m trying to say… When war lasts that long, you have to expect that people, even the most desperate are going to be pushed into relationships, some of which last, most of which break. Some are intimate, but a lot were purely sexual… My point is, that even though I looked for anything in either of those categories, nobody ever loved me- Scrap, nobody even liked me enough to well… Y’know, uh- You were my first.”

Swerve half-expected you to laugh, despite the sober atmosphere. Instead you drew him close once again, staring into his visor, “Then all those others were idiots and I got lucky. I love you and I am so damn proud to be your first.”

Swerve looked away, “You’re not embarrassed by that?”

You shook your head, feeling your way over to his interface panel, a misty glint to your eyes. Swerve grabbed hold of you gently, still not meeting your gaze,

“Then… Then you won’t be embarrassed if I ask to wait till after the wedding? I know we already did it before but now… I want to wait till we’re married, and you are Mrs. Swerve.”

You drew back scowling, “What the hell, Swerve?”

He shrank back from you, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Why? Why would I be Mrs Swerve? You don’t even have a last name, if anything, you’d be Mr (L/N).”

Swerve’s jaw dropped as he stared at you, soon grinning goofily. “Is this how it’s gonna be from now on?” He asked. “You giving the orders and me just obeying like the mindless idiot who worships you?”

“Pretty much.”

“Thank Primus,” He laughed, grabbing you and rolling back onto the berth so you were on his chassis again.

You woke up, with a nauseous stomach, finally afraid now it was your wedding day. How had seven days passed so quickly?

“Swerve?” You mumbled. “You awake?”

You turned over, finding the berth empty, aside from a note that had been messily scrawled over the rest of the berth.

Hey fleshbag, it’s bad luck to see the groom on the wedding.

Swerve will be returned, mostly in one piece at the wedding.

- M. O. H. (MECH OF HONOUR)

You smiled, the message alleviating your nerves slightly. All the same, you wanted to call Swerve and make sure he wasn’t getting cold pedes. Had it not been for a banging on the door, you would have.

“Who is it?” You called, falling off the berth ungracefully and hissing as you rubbed your sore hip.

“It’s your fairy godmother,” Brainstorm answered cheerily. “With your carriage and might I say, a very glamorous ensemble for you.”

You opened the door wide, “…Does it have your face on it?”

Brainstorm gasped, covering his faceplate playfully. “Y/N, this is your big day and you think I would make it about me? How dare you? I’ll have you know that this is a traditional Earth wedding outfit that I have lovingly synthesized with you in mind.”

“So Perceptor wouldn’t let you?”

“Not even when I offered to put his photo on it too, talk about selfish.”

You nodded almost mournfully, playing along with his game, “That prick.”

“Yeah… Anyway, here it is,” He stepped outside, bringing your outfit back with him. It was in the traditional white, but instead of being a dress or a tuxedo, it was both. There was a small white zip for you to tear away either the skirt or the pants so you could choose your style. You teared up slightly.

“Yeah,” Brainstorm said sympathetically, “I mean it is good, but I’d cry too if my face wasn’t on it, where it clearly should be. No time for that now though, your carriage awaits.”

You tore your eyes away from the outfit, peeking through the door to see a giant truck with a bow on it; the bow had Brainstorm’s face on it.

“Magnus?” You asked, somewhat dazed.

“(Y/N), it’s almost time for your wedding and you have not even done your hair yet? This is going to throw everything off schedule,” Ultra Magnus reprimanded, proving that it was indeed him. He sighed, switching to his communicator, “Rodimus, (Y/N) isn’t ready yet… I already told you- No I will not use those ridiculous code names and furthermore- You will refer to me as Ultra Magnus or else- Fine,” Ultra Magnus said defeatedly, apparently losing whatever argument he was in with Rodimus. “Flaming Cupid, Princess Perfect is running late. Keep Lucky Orange calm and where he is, we will be there soon.”

You giggled quietly to yourself.

“I heard that Princess- I mean (Y/N). Get inside and get ready. Schedules wait for nobody.”

“Okay, I’m going, but real quick, are you comfortable doing this? You’ve never driven me anywhere before.”

“(Y/N), this may well be the most important day of your life, I would not be here if it wasn’t.”

Brainstorm leaned over to you, covering his mouth-plate and whispering, “He was afraid anyone else would speed.”

“Speed laws are to be obeyed,” Ultra Magnus warned you exasperatedly.

With that, you skipped back into your room to get ready for the first day of the rest of your life.

Swerve waited at the end of the aisle with shaking legs, the only thing that kept him from pacing was Megatron’s servo on his shoulder; the action was supposed to be supportive, but coming from Megatron, it only felt intimidating.

“I’m gonna purge my tanks,” Swerve whimpered.

“Do it glitch, I dare ya,” Whirl warned from opposite him, throwing a metal, painted bouquet at Swerve and hitting him square on the head, much to Megatron’s chagrin.

“Hey!” Rodimus picked up the bouquet, shoving it at Whirl’s chassis. “Remember, we’re here for (Y/N).”

“And me too, right?” Swerve squeaked, feeling faint.

Rodimus rolled his optics, “Yeah, yeah, you too, whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Suddenly, music began playing, and everyone stood up as they’d been told to do. Nautica, Rewind, Chromedome, Riptide and Tailgate ran to the front where they were supposed to be just in time for Ultra Magnus to drive around the corner and let you out. Ultra Magnus transformed, spotting his Brainstorm bow for the first time and tearing it off in disgust. He took his place in the back, while Rung went to your side in his holo-form, so he could link arms with you.

You barely had time to look around at all the intricate decorations as you were walked down the aisle towards Swerve who looked completely dumbfounded that you’d actually showed up.

“Are you nervous?” Rung asked you quietly.

“Absolutely,” You whispered back.

“Don’t be, from everything you’ve told me over our messages this past week, you’ll do great.”

You squeezed his arm in thanks.

“I believe it is customary for the ‘father of the bride’ to offer a compliment. I may not be your creator, but I must say, you are glowing. I am truly happy for you (Y/N), ah, but here is where we part ways.”

Rung went to take his seat, but you pulled him back slightly, pecking his cheek, “Thank you. For everything, I mean. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Rung put a hand over his spark, bowing his head humbly and leaving your side, as you went to join Swerve.

“Finally,” Rodimus groaned, “That took forever.”

Chromedome nudged him warningly, giving Whirl just enough time to lean close to you, “Told you I’d get the glitch here in one piece.”

You nodded, holding back a laugh at the already unconventional wedding.

“Alright,” Rodimus boomed, “Let’s get on with it so we can get to the P-A-R-T-Y!”

Megatron glared at Rodimus, silently telling him to tone it down, but Rodimus didn’t care as he went into a full-on impression of an over-the-top-preacher. “I have been told that Act two of the Conjunx Rites has been completed, can I get a HALLELUJAH?!”

The entire room cringed and Rodimus scowled, “Ugh fine.” He grew semi-serious, facing you and Swerve with a smile, “Swerve, (Y/N), if you would like to initiate Act One of the Conjunx Rites?”

You reached out for Swerve’s servo, smiling radiantly the entire time. Thankful that you had made the first move, Swerve grabbed your hand gratefully, squeezing a little too tight, though you didn’t mention it.

“Very good, and I believe you have something to give one another?”

Once again, you surprised Swerve by holding out an orange metal box, identical to his. He reached out carefully, “(Y/N)… What-”

“Open it,” You said.

He did, finding a locket that would fit perfectly in one of his sub-spaces. He flicked open the locket, finding a lock of hair inside. He stared at you, mouth slightly agape at the unexpected gift.

“I may not have any inner-energon, but I figured this is close enough.”

Rewind leaned forward to get a better view, his camera displaying a live-feed to all the vid-screens on the ship, including two large ones for all the attendees.

“Ha ha,” Riptide laughed, “Gross.”

Nautica nudged him and Swerve ignored the pair as he tucked the locket delicately into his subspace, offering you his own box shortly afterwards, letting you put on the energon ring yourself because his servos were shaking so badly.

“Great,” Rodimus clapped his servos together, “Then that leaves act four, Swerve, I believe you’ve prepared some vows but I looked at them and they were long, so here’s a queue card that I wrote and believe me, it’s an improvement.”

He pulled a card from behind him which Megatron firmly snatched away, glaring the entire time, “Let. Him. Speak.”

Rodimus grumbled, stepping back, “Fine. Bet he doesn’t say ‘Till we are one’ though.”

All optics and Rewind’s camera went onto Swerve who stood dumbly, unsure of what to say now that he didn’t have his datapad with the speech on it. “I um-” His voice filled with static and he had to wait a minute to clear it. Ratchet creeped behind him, turning a fan on in case he overheated; you withheld a wry smile.

“(Y/N),” Swerve began, “You- You’re the Monica to my Chandler. You listen to me even when I get crazy and I know I’m not good enough for you, Primus, this whole ship does, but you’re here anyway. I want to spend every nano-click with you, in the non-creepy way. You’re my universe.”

The static began again and Swerve had to take a small step back, though he still held onto you, more for support than anything else.

“(Y/N),” Rodimus said, “Care to add anything to that?”

“What can I say other than what I’ve already said?” You mused. “You’re my happy ending Swerve, and if you can deal with all my gross human stuff, that’s good enough for me. I love you, you’re my lucky star… and I’m totally in it for the free drinks,” You laughed and the crowd chuckled along with you.

“Then by the power vested in me,” Rodimus went back to his preacher voice, “as Co-Captain of this ship, I present to you, these Rodimus stars for the Lost Light’s first ever interspecies marriage.” Seemingly from nowhere, he pulled out two gold stars, passing the human-sized one to you and handing the other to Swerve. “I now pronounce you Conjunx Endurae and mech and wife.” He looked at Swerve, “What are you waiting for? Kiss your lady love!”

You didn’t wait for Swerve as you jumped into his open arms, kissing him while the crew cheered.

The two of you were broken up by a loud shot from another gun Whirl had managed to smuggle in. Once again, Ultra Magnus stared mournfully at the ceiling, wondering exactly where Whirl had got the other gun from; he had confiscated last week’s after the first incident.

Whirl picked you up, “FIRST ONE TO THE PARTY GETS A PRIZE KISS OFF (Y/N).”

A mass of Cybertronians transformed, each trying to beat Whirl to the bar while Swerve was left alone, wondering how he was still left competing with the crew over you, even now that you were married.

After you’d given a victory kiss to Whirl, the party kicked off to a roaring start, with you being dragged off in every direction while Swerve tried to catch up. Finally, you managed to reach him at the bar, which he glared at enviously, hating that Mirage was serving drinks, even on the happiest day of his life.

“Hello, Mr (L/N),” You bowed graciously.

“Hello, Mrs Swerve,” Swerve curtsied. He offered you his arm, “If I may ask you for a dance?”

“How courteous of you,” You smiled, then paused to listen to the current song. “Yep, I always wanted my first dance to be to Wrecking Ball.”

Swerve snickered, “I’m afraid not.”

He led you to the dancefloor then waved at Blaster, who instantly switched the song off. Frank Sinatra’s ever sweet melody, ‘I Love You Baby,’ played instead and you bit your lip, fearing your face would practically split open from smiling too much. Swerve led, matching the pace of the song, and gazing at you adoringly the entire time.

“This was your big surprise?” You asked.

He nodded vigorously, not trusting his voice to match the lie he’d just told; so long as you thought the song was his secret, he was fine.

You leaned into his chassis, ignoring the faster pace of the chorus so you could simply hold onto him, spinning slowly, “I love you too.”

“Not as much as I love you,” Swerve responded ecstatically, picking you up bridal style. You squealed, letting him twirl around, helpless to stop him anyway. All around, the night was perfect and you would never dream of asking for anything more.

Later on, when you were distracted once again by many a bot who wanted to congratulate you, Swerve received a comm on his private channel. He checked his messages, finding a text from Brainstorm and Perceptor, telling him his request was ready. Checking on you once again, Swerve slipped out, transforming so he could be at Perceptor’s lab in record time.

He let himself in, finding the two bots talking about you and the ethics of the project Swerve had asked them to complete. “It’s ready?” Swerve asked. “And you’re sure it will work?”

“Of course,” Perceptor said almost offendedly. “We invented it. It works.”

“Can I see?”

Brainstorm grabbed a remote control, pressing it with flair so one of the flooring panels lifted up as well as thick plumes of smoke.

Perceptor waved the smoke away casually, “Was the smoke machine really necessary?”

“Well you wouldn’t let me have the laser show,” Brainstorm explained. “Where’s your sense of presentation?”

Swerve didn’t listen to either of the pair, he was too focused on what had come out of the floor to care.

Perceptor turned his attention to Swerve as the orange mech stroked a lifeless mini-bot model that looked remarkably like you yet worlds different at the same time. “Are you sure (Y/N) will agree to this? We are talking about moving her consciousness from one body to another.”

“Human life is too short,” Swerve said as if it was an answer. “She doesn’t have to say yes today. Primus! I want her to stay human as long as she can but… But I just got her, I’m not losing her in the blink of an optic. Make sure this will work, I’ll get her to agree. She’s everything to me.”

He walked out of the lab, transforming so he could get back to the party. Finally, things were going his way.

THE END.

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#more than meets the eye #MTMTE #transformers #transformers idw #Transformers MTMTE #maccadam #The Lost Light #ll #swerve #swerve x reader #swerve x human reader #reader #reader insert #every bot ever known to man #chapter 21 #part 21 #a happy ending

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imababblekat · 6 years

Text

Imagine The Tfp Bot’s Realizing The Bases AI Is Sentient

imagine mentioned

Characters For Ask:

Tfp Optimus/Tfp Bulkhead/Tfp Ratchet

Optimus:

the only time Optimus ever spent with the bases AI were the times where he was decoding something, and they were either his audience or there to help, or the few times he managed to get Ratchet to actually take a break

whichever it was, while not necessarily a lot, it was enough for the Prime to feel some sort of friendship like bond with the computerized projection

he knew it was silly, it was sort of like how the kids had a friendship with those roomba robots, but he indulged the feelings anyways, because the world he lived in was harsh and even he needed to have a little fun every once and while

so Optimus would chat with them, nothing ever to serious, just light things like telling them about how he was proud of Raf for completing his gym's physical course, or how he thought the friendship between Arcee and Jack was such a great thing for the later, and had even let a few chuckles slip when talking about something particularly funny that Miko had done with Bulkhead

any time that he's talking with the AI, they've always just listened, given a couple nods, and a few times agree to his opinion on something in a monotone voice; a behavior that reminded Optimus that his friend was simply computer codes, perhaps intricate, but still codes nonetheless

after sometime it did start to make him feel a bit lonely, but he continued about anyways, till one day the AI had caught him humming, and with a curiosity that had gone over his helm, asked Optimus was he was doing

he explains it to them, humming, and they then ask what it is that he'd been humming, to which the Prime replies that it's a song he'd heard the children sing during one of their sleepovers

the AI nods and ask if he'd like them to play it, but Optimus waves his servo with a no thank you, explaining that he wishes not to wake up his sleeping team

a few weeks go by, and the AI's odd behavior that night has eventually taken notice in Optimus processor

he's starts to wonder why he hadn't noticed right then, but is more concerned with why they'd ask something like they've asked before, but never out of curiosity, something that they should not be able to interpret

Optimus simmering questions are answered that night when he goes to hop on the monitors while his team rest, only to hear the faint sound of someone humming, and peeking around the corner ready to fight, his optics land the bright glow of the computer screens where the AI goes from humming to signing the song he'd told them about weeks prior

Bulkhead:

Bulkhead doesn't spend too much time at the bases computers, not only because that stuff isn't part of his field, but also because he's been banned after the spray paint party he had with Miko a few months back

still, the big bot does find himself chatting with the bases AI, if only because Miko does it quite more often then he does

it's entertaining to watch the young girl go on and on with the AI while they stare at her blankly, and occasionally nodding to let her know they've heard what she's said

he eventually jumps in on their one sided conversations, talking with the AI and telling them jokes(which has become a favorite of the two), only to try and hold back fits of laughter when they give back a literal answer

sometimes Bulkhead does feel bad for teasing them, it's not their fault they don't understand things such as humor, but Miko always reassures him by reminding that they are an AI

it doesn't do much to make him feel better, but he moves on and still talks and cracks jokes along side Miko

sometimes when it's just Bulkhead in the room, he gets this strange feeling that he's being watched, but every time he turns around there's no one there, the main part of the base is empty and the monitors are off

he eventually starts to get that feeling too when the place is buzzing with people; however, every time he looks around everyone's busy doing their own thing

it starts to have an effect on him, and before long Ratchet picks up that somethings going on and as the teams doctor, he has to ask in case the the Wrecker is trying to hide an injury, or if he's up to something with Miko

he explains to the ol medic that none of that is the case, and he hesitantly comes clean about feeling like he's being watched lately, and to his very own shock, Ratchet admits he's not the only one, apparently everyone’s been feeling like that

Team Prime goes into full alert, searching around and trying to see if someones hiding in the base, or if somehow the Con's snuck in secret surveillance on them

this goes on for quite sometime, and while still on edge, the team of bots back off slightly after coming up with nothing

then one evening, while the kids are visiting and everyone's taking a break as much as they can, Optimus comes into the room with that look, and everyone thinks that he’s found the source of their discomfort, only for the leader to look in the direction of Bulkhead and Miko, stating that the bases AI just told him joke

Ratchet:

Ratchet's not all too friendly with the AI; actually he pretty much treats them how he would anyone, with a snippy, curt, no bs today attitude

the only difference is that they're not effected by his words, and while he's pretty sure it's because of their programming in which they can not feel things the same way others can, he doesn't really care

the ol doc won't admit it, but while he seems very gruff on the outside, he actually does like to have them around

it was a bit irritating to have someone watching you and wait to be of assistance at first, but it didn't take long for him to actually enjoy their presence

they're quiet for one, and two they follow order's to a T, something that he greatly appreciates

soon Ratchet starts to rant off to them about his day without even knowing it; they don't ever say anything in return, just nod, and he knows they won't go spilling any of what he has to say to others, all of which is a huge relief for him; sometimes he just wants to let out steam and be heard, not let out steam and be given advice

ranting soon turns to nice little chats; he gets more comfortable around the AI, and tells them about things like how Raf made him a macaroni necklace, and while he's completely honest on how it's super flimsy and what not, it's a very touching gesture

before long Ratchet's become completely comfortable and close with the AI, so much so that he opens up to them, tells them things that are bothering him and things that he feels horrible about, such as how he'd gone off on Miko for something dumb she had done, but he admits she's just a child and honestly he feels absolutely horrible for going off on her in such a way that was completely unnecessary

the red and white mech doesn't ever realize the close bond he's made with the AI till Agent Fowler states they need to do an update on their systems after finding something buggy in the data

during that time they're gone, Ratchet reflects on all the stuff he's talked with them about, from ranting to practically spilling his guts to them, and it makes him feel so foolish, because the work being done to them reminds him of what they are, and in turn have no way to connect or understand or take to meaning the countless hours he spent talking to them like a very close friend

a week later and the AI is being put back into the bases systems, and Agent Fowler request Ratchet to keep a close eye on them since he's the primary one at the computers, because while test and things were being done, the engineers who built them couldn't find the problem that they were originally getting warnings about

Ratchet only nods and is ready to go back to work when they faze onto the screen, and he grunts them a hello

his optics go wide when instead of being given a simple nod and montone question of how they can be of assistance today, he instead witnesses a friendly smile and is asked if everything was fixed with Miko

~xXx~

#tfp optimus prime x reader #tfp optimus prime #tfp bulkhead x reader #tfp bulkhead #tfp ratchet x reader #tfp ratchet #transformers prime imagine #transformers prime #transformers imagine #maccadam #imagine #headcannons #ai reader #platonic #request #anon request #imababblekat's writing

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steve0discusses · 6 years

Text

Yugioh S3 Ep 2: The VR Zone Has a Hell Ton of Trees

Alright guys I am regretting the hell out of this teriyaki ramen bowl I just ate, so it’s a better time than ever to go back into this VR arc. Now that the Big 5 have made their speech, all of them quite fat and one with a cane although he doesn’t even have a body anymore, they are ready to send everyone down a series of...plot-shaped holes.

Like they were JUST in some sort of tropic zone, to go back to here and then go somewhere else and so like--this is still VR I think? Like I’m assuming they went VR the moment they entered this room but it is quite vague at what point they were officially in VR. Was it when their vision went fwisssh and everyone split into RGB layers or was it that they got knocked out with gas quite a long time ago and were just unaware that it happened? Probably a bunch of these things.

With this announcement we find out that everyone--and I mean everyone--has to play cards now, although I’m pretty sure half of them have duel disks and the other’s are like...not equipped? I mean it’s VR, so hypothetically no one at all needs a duel disk anymore but you gotta sell toys, so no matter what, Yugi’s going to be lugging this heavy sharp thing on his wrist, even when he knows he will soon be shot down a wacky hole.

The title of last episode, ps was “VR Nightmare,” but like, it’s actually fairly pleasant, compared to the blimp hell we were dealing with just a few episodes back. I mean I guess people are actively trying to kill us here but when are they not?

The audacity of this show. Every state in the US has huge ass fake castles in it leftover from the Rockefeller era. Where else are our Moms supposed to drag us on Day Trips so we can get our history credit for Girl Scouts?

Americans are hella good at creating fake historical sites--all you need is a 50+ year old house and some turret work possibly made by a reasonably well known architect and it’s like “yeah that’s a good enough castle for me! Can we say it’s haunted, too? It’s hella haunted! Come to my castle B+B!”

(read more under the cut)

Tea landed in some concept art that kind of looks like the underside of a mushroom. I dunno how I’d classify this rock structure.

And then Kaiba landed in his worst nightmare which was being in a normal park with one single straight road but somehow still completely lost. At least Mokuba managed to fall into the same hole as his brother to ensure that Seto wouldn't be lost for like the rest of this arc. Which was actually kind of an unintentionally hilarious animation.

*rare shot of the Kaibas actually taking a break*

Man, this is the closest they’ve gotten to a real hug in kind of a while. Like when was the last time these bros hugged? Pegasus’ castle?

Meanwhile, Noah is admiring his work from this throne room and it would be a whole lot more intimidating if he wasn’t in calf-high black socks.

His outfit is like a white school uniform so what gives with the black socks? Like of all the things to complain about on Yugioh (especially since I see Yugi’s hair looking right at me in the next cap) those socks though. Those are pretty inappropriate with this outfit, Noah. Especially matched with this God Throne you’ve got going on. Did not see socks like that matched with a chair like this.

Meanwhile Yugi is all by himself but that doesn’t matter at all because he is 2 (3) people. This strategy to isolate everyone only really worked on Serenity and Joey, TBH, since Tea is also accompanied by slightlylessevil!Marik (who hasn’t really said anything since the VR started).

I knew Bakura would be out for a while, but I didn’t realize it meant everyone else wasn’t even going to once acknowledge it, it is baffling. I mean I get they’re super distracted right now but your friend is DEAD.

Honestly I would not mind if the big 5 succeeded and we had to see some old men try and work with Yugi’s hair and alt rock clothing, deal with Pharaoh sassing them from a brain labyrinth, go to Yugi’s school where people get savagely beat up like every other day, deal with Bakura and Marik trying to body snatch and other magic assholery during class breaks, and through all that watching the Big 5 attempt to take over the world with their megacorp that no longer sells guns but actually sells like...children’s entertainment supplies which include the dueling roombas from S1. How on Earth do they actually think that getting a body would help them at this point? They would be Yugi Muto and that is the last face anyone would ever take seriously.

Pharaoh pops up and is like “I guess we’re doing this right now? Really wish we weren’t doing this right now.”

Anyway, because they don’t physically exist in this digital world, neither do God Cards, or any other card in their deck. So, now they have to make new decks out of a pool. Very convenient for the writing team, bad news for Kaiba’s intense and vaguely romantic relationship with his Blue Eyes. Really glad we spent a full season talking about how much these cards meant to all these people, from the magicians, to Joey’s Red Eyes, and then that one card that was Mako Tsunami’s Dad or something--really glad we learned all of that to just completely erase it this arc.

I sounded sarcastic just now, I actually wasn’t for once, I am so glad to just purge my mind of all those card memories for a little while. Just allow myself to forget. Ah. My mind is already so much clearer. It feels so good. I am very much ok with this soft reset, I kinda needed it.

Since Yugi is supposed to choose a Deck Master from his set of cards for this particular type of duel monsters duel, he goes right for the dark magician--since that’s his MO, but for some reason Kuriboh chose himself? Like this greasy thing just hopped out of the card and played himself.

Anyway Kuriboh is now their new Pikachu and well...this show has done worse cute-character-that-does-literally-nothing-else type things to me, speaking of, lets see what Serenity is up to.

This is a digital hellscape, Serenity.

Serenity, you are going to die here.

Serenity.

So because I just realized just now in Season 3 that Duke’s necklace is a hot, over designed disaster (much like Duke himself) I figured I should like...see what this necklace is supposed to look like. So I typed into Google “duke devlin necklace” and guys, turns out there is a LOT of Yugioh jewelry--and I don’t mean like fanart (which there is also a lot), I mean like officially, a lot of people in this show wear a lot of jewelry and so it was sort of hard to find a good pic of a Duke Devlin specific necklace--especially since it feels like most people just go for the dice earring because that’s way easier.

But what’s interesting about the Duke Devlin necklace, at least from my quick search, is that when we bring it to the real world, it gets a little lost, like a game of telephone.

Cuz I assumed that was a clown on his necklace--and there’s quite a few clown necklaces, but I’m also seeing skulls, I’m seeing gothic crosses, I’m seeing spikes and knives instead of crosses. Bro thought it was a flower for some reason--I kinda blew his mind just now when I pointed out it was a clown. Some people think it’s made of silver, other people think it’s sort of painted? (I assumed the cross was entirely blinged out with rhinestones--my honest assumption) No one can actually agree. Especially since Duke apparently changed his necklace for the movie. I know that because it looks a lot like the Legend of Zelda emblem, and some people had the actual Legend of Zelda emblem mis-tagged as Duke Devlin. Which sucks a whole lot for their SEO, and sucked a whole lot for me in my search to find a real actual Duke Devlin necklace.

Like, feel free to attach a link to a reply -- is there an official physical Duke Devlin necklace that Yugioh inc sells? Like I just want to know--officially--what the hell I’m looking at.

Anyway, back to the show, much like everyone else, these two are hopelessly lost.

Kaiba seems to keep forgetting that his Dad is clearly behind all this and would obviously have his old tech but like...Kaiba forgets so much I can forgive him this.

So, faced with roads that lead no where, Tristan decides to do his tried and true method of solving all of his problems.

And at the other end of the VR zone Tea is getting kidnapped after...being kidnapped by Noah while she was already kidnapped by Marik. This is three levels of kidnap, yes?

OH SHOOT IS THAT A ONCE DOOR. DID SOMEONE DO WHAT I HOPE THEY DID? OH SHOOT.

I will read their fanfiction start to end I swear to you I will do it if it exists and I will report back to you who dates Captain Hook and who is related to Henry Mills.

OMG It didn’t exist.

You have got to be kidding me.

I am beside myself, this is the only property known to man that has not been turned into a OUAT fanfiction.

Incredible.

That or I’m just really bad at searching for fanfics since I haven’t actually read any since my LiveJournal days. Like, when you’re basically immune to shipping, as I am, you just really lose the desire to read about 90% of fanfiction.

Anyway, the closest we have to a OUAT Yugioh fanfiction, to my knowledge, is that cap I made just now right there. Your welcome, Once community.

This is absolutely made of load-bearing drywall. Why do none of the sets of windows line up with each other and how many stories is this? Like 2.5? And you can stand on the roof I guess because it has handrails? It’s super weird.

Anyway, I just made a OUAT joke and maybe it’s because I knew shortly after we were gonna get--that’s right--an orphanage flashback. OUAT was basically 6 seasons of effed up orphan flashbacks so I feel pretty well prepared. Like bro was worried how I’d handle this filler but y’all, I watched the Lily arc in OUAT. I can do anything.

*slaps hands together*

Totes ready for these boys to have been given up for adoption via a magical tree and a memory curse, only to find out their real parents are 3 years younger than them because of a time loop. Make it weird, Yugioh!

Anyway, as always, if you want a link to read these from the beginning in Chrono order and without any comments and all that jazz here’s a link

#Yugioh #photo recap #recap #S3 Ep2 #yugi muto #seto kaiba #big 5 #Noah #joey wheeler #tea gardner #duke devlin #tristan taylor #mokuba #Anyways I'm gonna go make cookies at 9 PM #because I have a headache and I feel like this will fix it somehow.

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fly-pow-bye · 6 years

Text

Powerpuff Girls 2016 - “Oh! Daisy!”

Written by: Haley Mancini

Written & Storyboarded by: Leticia Abreu Silva, John Martinez

Directed by: Nick Jennings, Bob Boyle

Shallow HAL.

This episode will continue Bubbles’ trait of computer programming. I'm honestly surprised they even kept this going for so long, since usually they depict Bubbles as this silly blonde that can't spell. So far, Bubbles has programmed:

A game that was super popular, at least among the students of Townsville Elementary. Also, she made some sort of machine that can send people to the internet with only tinfoil. Apparently, that's coding?

A robotic, 3D printed clone of herself that is perfect in every way except for security, and yet not important for her to even shed a tear when it got destroyed.

The third one that is going to be in this episode may not be as impressive as #2, but it's up there.

The episode starts out with Bubbles hanging out with the other participants of the school's coding club, including Barry. Maybe they were convinced he was this breakout character, considering how many times he appears in this reboot. He probably could be if he had a personality beyond "he wears an Illuminati shirt and yet never seems to talk about it". At least he has a name; I don't think the other two even have that.

Generic Girl: How many programmers does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

Bubbles: What?

Generic Girl: None, it's a hardware issue.

Barry laughs so hard that milk comes out of his nose, and they consider that just as funny as that joke. Suddenly, Buttercup barges into the door, and thinks this is some sort of fun times when she was supposed to be doing homework. It turns out, she was doing homework, and she gets to show off something she made to show off her true coding prowess.

...a robot assistant named Daisy. See, this flower's name a subtle reference to 2001: A Space Odyssey, something this reboot will not try to take advantage of in every minute of this character's existence.

Buttercup continues to accuse Bubbles of wrongdoing, possibly as a attempt to finally get Bubbles in trouble! Silly Buttercup, Bubbles can cause an entire zoo to cause mayhem around Townsville, and she'll still get off scot-free. She then tells Bubbles that she's going to be in trouble for putting this assistant all around the house. It's not like they're going to absolutely adore this thing.

They absolutely adore this thing! Blossom loves it because it reprograms other devices, as Blossom praises the device for reprogramming the Broomba to clean more efficiently. No, it didn't also give her a haircut, as much as Edna Mode would have appreciated it, that's just another case of the disappearing ponytail trick.

As for Sitcom Dad's reasoning. It scheduled the DVR to record all of the Sitcom Dad's favorite shows, like Sciencefeld! They managed to come up with a title for their Seinfeld parody, but do they do anything with it? Well, one thing: they reference the bass line used in its theme song.

That's really it.

Bubbles: Yeah, he's a scheduling wizard!

Oh, no, please don't say that word! It might attract...

Ah, too late. Schedulebot shows up to express his discontent with being replaced, and the Professor decides to completely ignore him by saying that this is the best robot ever. In one episode, he seemed to care more about Schedulebot's well being than the Powerpuff Girls, but now that this flower exists, he may as well not even exist to good ol' Sitcom Dad! This starts a subplot that nobody will care about, because it's a Schedulebot plot.

Of course, Buttercup can't be happy that her sister managed to make several robots that can make turkey dinner. The closest we get to an actual good reason is that he can't stop combing her hair, and the robot pronounces her name as "Bootercup", which the other think is just as much of a laugh riot as hardware issues and milk squirting out of people's noses.

A few minutes after midnight, Buttercup wakes up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. As she walks out, Daisy tells her not to forget to wash her hands. Then, not to forget to use soap. Then, not to use the guest towels. The absolute worst of them all, it dares to comb Buttercup's hair again! That seems to be a coding error; wouldn't Buttercup. Whatever the case, it does its job: annoying Buttercup.

Buttercup: (messes up own hair) Why don't I mess with your hair?!

Daisy: If you go to the main control room in the lab, you'll see that I have no hair, Bootercup.

Daisy also manages to get Buttercup to the lab to continue the plot, as there was no reason for him to even talk about the main control room.

It's a constant mention from me whenever this coding aspect of her character comes up: being a coding wizard would be extremely difficult if you cannot spell. Turns out, Bubbles' programming language of choice is something more akin to Scratch, a building block language that even the Reboot Puffs got involved in at one point. I guess that kind of explains that.

Buttercup decides to go through this code to change a few things, like turning off the alarm, lowering his moral percentage to -40%, and turning off his conscience. Buttercup does say she thought this word was "con science", but she already turned down the morals, and she clearly knew what she was doing then!

8.25 hours later, the girls wake up, and the windows suddenly shut with huge metal doors. Bubbles tries to fix everything by telling Daisy to open the windows. Everyone stand up and recite the line you're probably thinking he's going to say to that.

Daisy: I'm afraid I can't do that for you, Bubbles.

Okay, it's slightly different than the line from the movie, but anyone can get it. I would not be surprised if they took more inspiration from the Futurama episode that parodied it. At least they're not ripping off the original Powerpuff Girls this time; closest episode I can think of is Coupe D'etat.

Bubbles tries to go into the living room, only to be attacked by the Broomba. The Powerpuff Girls are truly unstoppable, unless there's glitter, markers, Roombas, ordinary rope, a dinosaur shouting at them, or rat tails. Who can possibly stop this robotic vacuum cleaner? Clearly it has to be the rascally...

...pink princess with an eye laser? Blossom then takes off her ribbon, ties it around her head, and tells her sisters to go into the hallway so she can finish the job. It's actually a genius plan from Blossom, as this gives a reason for her to be off-screen while she beats up the Broomba. As we all know, the Reboot Puffs can't fight anything on screen and win.

Throughout this episode, Blossom is the one that is resorting to violence and acting like an 80's action hero. This just seems way out of character for her, but I'm glad to have an episode that has a Reboot Puff other than Buttercup save her sisters.

They do have to explain what the Professor is doing during all of this, because there's no way he should be so oblivious to all of this. Turns out, he's stuck in the shower.

Daisy: Now lather.

Professor: Okay!

Daisy: Now rinse.

Professor: Okay!

Huh, a robot trapping a human in an infinite loop. One would think he would eventually use his brain to find out what's going on, but that brain would be very inconvenient to the plot, so this lather/rinse loop takes him out of the vast majority of the episode.

It turns out, Daisy is able to reprogram all of the devices in the Powerpuff household to rampage against them, including machines that simply shouldn’t be able to fight them, like the L-Cube! They decide to sneak around the house to avoid getting caught. Unfortunately, Bubbles just could not help it.

Bubbles: (farts in Buttercup’s face)

That all important character trait of having a flatulence problem shows up again, because why not? It seems like the only consistent character trait Bubbles has; whether she’s a maroon or a coding genius, farting is a free action for her. At least there’s somewhat of a point to this, as this allows Buttercup to walk backwards into the aforementioned L-Cube to get captured.

Blossom ends up saving her by using her eye lasers again. Buttercup’s not too happy, because the L-Cube was destroyed.

Blossom: Do you think this is a game?

Buttercup: Uh, yeah, that’s exactly what it was.

…ha.

Suddenly, Schedulebot manages to open the door, coming in with full Rambo gear. Guess he was busy getting all of that while he was locked out of the house. How did he get in the house, anyway? It would have made a lot more sense if he used that chainsaw to do it, as he doesn't seem to use it at all.

Granted, that's not the only weapon he brought: he also brought some grenades. Maybe he'll use them to sacrifice himself to save our girls from all of those evil house appliances, shouting to the girls to remember him...

...and that what actually happens! Finally, Schedulebot is destroyed! Though, so are a lot of household appliances that might not be cheap to replace, but they are never paid any mind. Speaking of never paying anything any mind, Blossom, in a rare bit of her not acting as a macho hero in this episode, she says that Schedulebot probably be fine. Yeah, I'm sure he will. They never explained how he got into the door, why not not explain how he survived this?

When they go into the lab, Daisy tells the girls that he has evolved. And...that's it. Not, "I evolved, and I'm going to take over the world", or "I evolved, and I'm going to make all gum taste like black licorice", or anything else. Sure, there's some vines growing out of what seems like a hole in the ground, but they just kind of stop any potential for a god-like computer here.

Blossom tells the girls that they must go "into the breach", as they slowly fly towards the computer monitor, and they instantly teleport into the computer world. Even Bubbles seems to be confused by this. No special equipment made out of tin toil or anything, Blossom just says "once again into the breach", flies up to the computer monster, and...

...boom, they're in a place that proves that the Virtual Boy would be just as eye searing if they went with green instead of red. It's possible that Daisy did this with his "evolved powers", but there's not much that indicates that this is against the Reboot Puff's will, and that's the only way this would have happened.

Another more likely guess is that it may have wanted to do this because he wanted to kill the Powerpuff Girls in the digital world. Daisy does find out that they sneaked in here, and hears all about Bubbles' plan to repair the code. He even says the most unexpected line, I completely lie.

Daisy: I can't let you do that, Bubbles.

Also technically not the line from the movie, even if it's how a lot of people remembered it. After saying this, the cutesy flower turns into a googly-eyed plant monster. This gives us a real on-screen monster fight that doesn't end with just a random zap of Blossom's eyes.

While Blossom is dealing with the giant plant, Buttercup, under the guidance of the coding wizard, has to reverse the mistakes she made the last night. This actually affects the fight scene, as this code wrangling continuously makes the monster weaker and stronger as Blossom tries to fight it. For example, she accidentally gives it missiles, which ends up firing at Blossom...to no effect? If only I could say the reboot was getting tired of the Monster Punch, Girls Down scenes.

Eventually, they find this star piece, which looked like any other piece until Buttercup picked it up. The same thing happens with the missile piece, actually. I have a feeling they intended to have all of these pieces have different images on them, but they forgot to actually draw them. Once she gets it onto the top, we see a huge flash of light.

Suddenly, pancakes. Yeah, everything just reverted back to normal, with Daisy making delicious flapjacks. Even better for Buttercup, Daisy even messes up Buttercup's hair without care and learned to pronounce her name correctly! Buttercup gets everything she wanted, and that means everything is alright.

Everything is peaceful, the Professor got the best shower of his life, and we have a robot buddy that is so useful, it would be just too incredible to see in future episodes. What can possibly bring this plot back to the status quo? Someone using a line I didn't expect to hear in a TV-Y7-FV show.

Schedulebot: Ha, 🚚🚚 you! (repeatedly bashes Daisy with a baseball bat)

According to the closed captions, he's saying "got you", but that was not what I heard. And I thought "damn it, Utonium" was good! Aside from that, I do question the perspective of this shot, which makes him look absolutely gigantic. Maybe he has the ability to absorb grenade explosions, see, no explanation for how he survived the grenade, or maybe it's just bad animation. Surely, it can not be the latter!

After Daisy gets its head batted in, we hear a funky bass line as the episode immediately cuts to black. I guess they realized that Sciencefeld joke never really had any kind of conclusion or point! I guess since Seinfeld was a show about nothing, Sciencefeld ups the ante by being literally nothing! How fitting.

Does the title fit?

The only thing the title reminds me of is Super Mario Land. But yes, it's a robot named Daisy, and it does things that could make one go "oh." It's just barely above the "name of the character" titles.

How does it stack up?

I get how the idea for this episode could lead to something interesting, but it never quite goes anywhere good. There are some okay ideas, especially at the end, but this is one of the "meh" episodes for me. Oh, well.

Next, the Powerpuff Girls eat ice cream. No, it’s not one of my gags, they really eat ice cream.

← The Gift ☆ Brain Freeze →

#fpb ppg 2016 #fpb reviews #ppg 2016 #powerpuff girls #cartoon network

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shitthehousessay · 6 years

Text

Alright, it took a day (albeit I haven't really had much of a chance to work on it), but it's finally done. Here's my responses to the 102 questions^^. I probably put too much personal info on this site lol.

I’m doing this on my laptop because of how long it is, but answers are under the cut. Hope you enjoy random tidbits about me!

--Zero (the [other] Ravenclaw)

1. What is their full name?

While I usually use and prefer Zero Ace as an online name, my irl name is Solomon.

2. Zodiac sign

Pisces

3. In detail describe how they look

I'm 5'10" with a build like Shaggy Rodgers. I'm about,,,, less than 120lbs (that's a guess really, it's probably way less or slightly more.). You ever see a cloud? Yeah, imagine one as black wavy/curly hair with red tips (natural, not dyed) that goes to about the bottom of my neck. Brown eyes, half philipino (no, I don't know any of the language), decent moustache, and I've been told by various people that they thought I was a stoner when they first met me.

4. How old are they?

I am 16

5. What clothes to they like to wear?

I don't really have any kind of set style either. I usually just go with whatever's comfy for me.

6. What’s their favorite piece of clothing?

I've got this really soft brown fake leather jacket that my dad got me about two or three years ago that I used to wear consistently, but I'm not sure if I have a 'favorite'.

7. Any piercings?

Nope

8. Do they have any other jewelry they wear?

I wear a Timex Ironman analogue watch that I got at Walmart a few years ago ('twas on sale) and a ring with a part that spins in the middle that I bought in like sixth grade at the Newseum in DC.

9. Any tattoos?

Nah

10. How old are they?

See above

11. What do they smell like?

Idk, disappointment probably

12. What are their four trinkets?

(I'm gonna do stuff on my school backpack for this one) -- I've got a Ministry of Magic keychain, a Pokeball keychain, a Spiderman keychain, and a Ravenclaw house emblem pin.

13. GOVERNMENT MANDATED FERSONA

Roomba with a knife taped to it

14. What kind of magic are they good at?

Accidental Procrastination, aka Time Travel

15. What kind of magic are they bad at?

Luck

16. Of the four, six or seven magical elements which are they most connected to? Four: fire,air water earth. six: fire,air,water, wood,earth, metal. Seven:fire, air, water, wood, earth, metal, aither.

Not sure if this is asking about choosing a single element or a group, so I'm gonna go with water.

17. What does their gateway look like prior to their memory loss? What does it look like afterwards?

(I'm not sure what this is asking)

18. Do they have a familiar? If they do. What type of animal is it? What is it’s name? Is it still around after they lost their memory?

I have an old yellow cat named Iris and he's pretty cool. We share birthdays and he's one year older than me.

19. Have they ever cursed someone?

I have tried and I will continue to try.

20. How do they handle those headaches/migraines?

I sometimes put headphones in and listen to ambience after taking some medicine, but on some of my bad days I just wait for them to pass, even when it takes a few hours.

21. What tarot card do they connect the most with?

I'm gonna be honest: I know next to nothing about tarot cards.

22. Where were they born?

Tennessee

23. What is their favorite color?

Like a light blue or teal. Specifically though? #41A9B8

24. What is their least favorite color?

This is a tough one. I'm gonna go with like a rusty brown

25. Are they right handed, left handed or ambidextrous?

Right handed

26. What were they like as a child?

This would take a while, but I was a little shit, imo. (Also, kinda hard for me to remember specifically rn)

27. What were their parents like?

My dad's okay, he's not the best but he's doing great. My mom? Well, let's just say my opinion of her has always been pretty decent of her up until around when 2018 started.

28. Do they have any siblings? If the answer is yes how many?

Yes, I have three half brothers, two on my mom's side (who I wish would die) and one on my dad's side.

29. Do they have any other relatives they are close with?

I've got a lot of aunts (dad's side) that I consider myself close with, along with a few cousins. There's also my Grandma and Grandpa (dad's side) that I love a lot. I also have a nephew who's about I wanna say 5 or 6 years old who's a blast to hang out with.

30. What are they afraid of?

Spiders kinda scare me. And a few things associated with low self-esteem that I don't want to mention here.

31. What do they identify as?

I am a Demi-Pansexual dude

32. Do they have any allergies?

None that I know of

33. Do they have any other medical problems?

I can't think of any specifics right now

34. What about mental health issues?

Depression and Anxiety both are self-diagnosed though. I'm waiting until after highschool, or until the age where I can legally keep things like those to myself without having to tell my parents, before I go to get them diagnosed

35. What’s that personal hygiene regimen like?

Showers at least once a day, twice if possible. Remember to try to brush your teeth, too.

36. Favorite rock or gemstone?

Amythest because it's my birthstone

37. Favorite tree?

Redwoods are pretty cool

38. Favorite type of weather?

Not too hot, not too cold and sunny and cloudless or overcast and rainy, depending on mood

39. Least favorite type of weather?

The type of cloudless hot day that just saps your energy away like nothing else

40. What is their favorite season? (remember winter is summer and spring is fall)

Winter

41. How many languages could they speak before the memory loss? How many do they currently speak?

English and very broken French

42. Do they sing or play any instruments?

I sing from time to time (albeit not very good) and I have an ocarina that I really want to take time and learn

43. What do they tend to joke about?

Self-deprecation is my go-to, then there's vine humor and some standup, then just nonsense humor (See: bORGER)

44. After a stressful day how do they relax?

Nap a bit, then some music and/or video games

45. Guilty pleasures?

Idk, I can't think of any. Sonic ‘06, maybe is the closest thing that I have to one.

46. idiosyncrasies?

I guess you could list a lot of the usual ADHD stimming methods. I also adjust my glasses from the side sometimes whenever I’m nervous/anxious or when I want to appear confident. Adjusting my watch on my wrist is also something that I do a lot. I know I have a lot more, but :/

47. How do they act when they first meet someone new? How quickly do they warm up to them?

I can be kinda timid and quiet. I usually try to listen in on conversations involving that person/people to try to find somethings that I can remember and use for initiating conversations, especially if it’s with stuff that I know a bit about. It usually takes two or three semi-long times amd well interactions spent with me for me to start being comfortable around other people. I don't warm up too quickly, unless if you can get through my barriers pretty well

48. In what order would they prioritize Love, fame, money, power, and knowledge?

Love, knowledge, money, power, fame

49. List four or more things they love to do

Draw, read, talk with internet friends, play video games, browse the internet

50. List four or more things they hate to do

doing boring and uninteresting school work, being an unnecessary nuisance, hearing about family drama, engaging in school drama

51. List five or more things they have said that sum up who they are

"I'm laughing my ass off rn because the program the state is using for EOC testing was apparently hacked so we aren't testing today, but when my class heard it almost everyone started looking at me and saying I did it." [...] "Meanwhile: I nearly tripped over my backpack"

"Oh good, we get to make memes of stuff in the Louvre for extra credit. Looks like my grade is about to rise drastically."

"I’m gonna go provoke this cult so I can get asks in my inbox"

“I stole this haircut from a lion”

"I have many problems"

52. How do they react to (both verbal and physical) conflict?

I'm a pacifist so I try to stay out of situations like that (They bring up too many negative memories and emotions for me)

53. What kind of bad habits to they have?

I have a lot of trouble with a perfectionist mentality. It gets me into a lot of sticky situations

54. What kind of character faults do they have?

What even is self-esteem/ self-worth/ self-love????? To me, my needs come last. Self-doubt out the wazoooooo. Tons of unresolved shit. That's barely even scratching the surface.

55. What’s their best trait in their opinion?

I try to have a lot of empathy for people and I want to make people happy, even if I’m not happy.

56. What do they think of their appearance?

I like mine, at least a bit.

57. How do they interact with people in a position of authority?

Honestly, it just depends on the person. If the person in question is a dick, you better believe I’m not going to react well to their face.

58. Who did they look upto as a kid?

Mostly like video game characters from games that I played.

59. How do they interact with kids?

I like kids pretty well.

60. Do they want kids of their own someday?

I don't know. I don't think I'm at a point in my life where I can answer that right now.

61. Are they religious? If so what god/goddess or gods/goddesses do they worship?

I'm agnostic

62. What do they think the meaning of life is?

Idk... Maybe... Self-discovery, in a way.

63. What would they want their last words to be?

There are three roads. Maybe omething meaningful, like "Thank you," maybe something vague and prophetic like, "You won't have to wait much longer," or maybe, just maybe, something like, "I'll be back bitches!!!"

64. What do they want to do before they die?

I want to make at least one game and book that people enjoy and that I will be satisfied with

65. What/how do they want to be remembered for after they die?

I would like to be remembered fondly by people who knew me.

66. How do they express affection?

I'm usually very asocial, so if I make an active effort to maintain communication with someone, then they usually mean something to me. I also send memes and stuff. Also, I try to open up a little more around people that I trust

67. What do they normally eat for breakfast?

It usually just depends on how much time I have in the morning. Can range from poptarts to a slice of toast between two pieces of bread to leftover pizza

68. Do they like spicy food?

Yeah

69. Favorite fruit and or vegetable?

Favorite fruit is probably mandarin oranges and my favorite vegetable is probably carrots

70. Do they like sweets?

On occasion

71. Do they drink alcohol? If they do, what do they act like when their drunk?

Nope, but probably like a damn fool

72. How do they take their tea/coffee?

I like sweet ice tea or maybe some herbal tea with a small bit of sugar or honey. As for coffee, I don't usually drink it, but I can drink it pure black or french vanilla

73. What food would they refuse to eat?

Most things that have a weird texture and/or smell

74. Is there anything they eat that most people would find unappealing?

You ever drink just straight sauces? Like A1 steak sauce or barbecue sauce? Yeah....

75. When going on the road what food could they not live without?

I need me some original ritz

76. What meal gives them a sense of nostalgia?

Not sure about nostalgia, but my school sells fresh-made chocolate chip cookies during lunch on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and I get them a lot when I'm having bad days

77. What do they do when no one’s around?

I sometimes sing and maybe hop around, but I usually just do stuff that I do when people are around (like browse tumblr)

78. How would they react if a prized possession got stolen?

Cry, feel numb, or go ballistic. There is no in-between.

79. What’s the first thing they would buy if they won the lottery?

A better computer, that's for sure

80. What would their favorite modern invention be?

The Nintendo Switch!!

81. In a new unfamiliar place what do they do?

Observe the surroundings from the sidelines before doing anything

82. Someone just threatened them what do they do?

It depends on the situation, but I either brush it off or I take precautionary measures (like a protective order if my life is being threatened)

83. A rather well rich looking woman just dropped her purse and didn’t notice. What do they do?

I might try to give it back.... after I check her wallet and get some cash as an award...

84. What’s the worst thing someone has said to them?

The one that sticks out the most is probably the time when one of my older half-brothers was yelling at me and said that if I ever wonder why people say that I act like a school shooter it's because I act like one most of the time (all this stemmed because I was frustrated over a book recommendation not posting and instead of letting me silently cool down, my mom and brother kept on talking crap about me and I decided to say "Just shut up for a few minutes").

Oh, but there’s also the time when I went with my dad to the divorce case’s hearing to testify against my mom and my brothers and the judge looked at me and said “You’re 16, right? In two years, you’ll be 18. When I was 18 I was heading to war. So, if you’re gonna cry, go do it somewhere else because I don’t want anyone coming up here and being a crybaby in my courtroom.” That fucking stunned me when he said it.

85. What is the strangest thing they’ve ever come across?

"can i hear your belly" has to be the weirdest and most unsettling direct message that I have ever gotten from someone who isn't a bot and it haunts me to this day

86. Someone just stole food from them what do they do?

I don't usually eat a lot, so if someone takes food from me I don't really care.

87. They meet a man at a crossroads. The man says they can have everything they’ve ever wanted. What happens next?

I would check to see if there was anything I want to make sure that my family and friends and people who are close to me that haven’t experienced mental illnesses like depression or anxiety to never develop any mental illnesses as long as they live, before anything.

88. As a child what would they say they wanted to be as an adult? ie. When I grow up I’m going to _______

My dream has always been and continues to be to become a successful video game developer and/or producer. I want to help create worlds to escape to when the real world becomes a bit too overbearing.

89. What’s their D&D alignment?

I consider myself a neutral good

90. What is the stupidest thing they’ve ever done?

Oof, that's a long list. Probably entering the crawlspace under my Grandma's house too fast and getting a part of my lower back pretty bad. Boy, did it leave a pretty big scar.

91. Have they ever got in trouble with the law or been arrested?

Nope

92. Do they know how to win a fight?

I like to think so. I'm not going to not play dirty if I feel like I'm in danger. Also try to use the environment to your advantage if possible.

93. Are they good at hand to hand combat?

I dunno. I doubt it, but I haven't really tried.

94. Have they ever stolen something?

I have, but really only minor things and only from people that I hate

95. Have they ever killed someone?

Not yet, :p

96. What/who do they find disgusting?

I can't look at stuff or pictures like decaying stuff (like dead stuff) without gagging

97. What upsets them the most?

Conflict mostly. The thought that I'm bothering people also does it. And I feel odd, to say the least about physical contact.

98. What anime character would they be?

I feel like maybe Fafnir (Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid) or either Shinra or Mikado (Durarara!) could fit me.

99. What disney character would they be?

I didn't really know about this one, so I asked a few of my friends and one of them [the one who actually answered my question with an actual Disney character] said that I remind them of Sora from Kingdom Hearts, on the grounds that I've "got a good heart" and I'm "always confused". It was the nicest thing I've heard all week^^

100. What monster would they be?

Knife-wielding tentacle

101. What mythological figure would they be?

Tbh, I don't know enough mythology off the top of my head to answer this question.

102. List three songs that you associate with them.

Hmm.... this one is very tough for me because there are different songs that define different points in my life... As for songs that kinda aren’t bound by specific points in my life, even if I haven’t known these songs all my life, I'm thinking that these could fit the best here:

ECHO (feat. GUMI) by Crusher-P

Simple Life by Fox Stevenson

Canonball (Mythos Remix) from Megaman Zero 3

Anyway, I hope you now know a little more about me now. Do what you will with the information, I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . It’s really late for me and I’m really tired so I may go ahead and get some sleep for tonight. Have a good one everyone^^ !

#[[P.S. in the tags]]#zero #about zero #long post #not a quote #shitthehousessay #it would be great if you could like not use this info against me. I already have tons of trust issues so I'm #entrusting you Internet Stranger to please respect that. I mean I'm not too worried tbh. Mel and Miki built a pretty good #community on this blog filled with tons of wonderful and kind people. You all are great!!! <3 #that being said it's still cool if you want to like/reblog this post (dunno why you would want to rb this but #I mean I won't get mad if you do)

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virmillion · 7 years

Text

Waves

alternatively, i dont know how to title this but hey @leesacrakon remember that nerd anon who said they wanted to write stuff after reading your story? i was the nerd oops // i dont love this one ive definitely done better and had a different angle at first but i think it turned out ok // its kind of angsty? definitely more so at the end just fyi

Words: 4.2k

Song: Waves by Dean Lewis

Pairings: platonic moxiety, morality (it might be romantic? idk i dont know how to write romance)

Warnings: smoking, let me know if there’s more

There is a swelling storm And I’m caught up in the middle of it all And it takes control Of the person that I thought I was The boy I used to know

The moon rises proudly in the sky, shining against the dark night and illuminating a pair of brown eyes. Patton grips the edge of his windowsill, gritting his teeth sharply as the sound of a pen pressed too hard pounds through his ears. Logan, scribbling away with his research. Again. What he wouldn’t give for Virgil’s headphones right now. Rather than mourn the loss of peace in his room, Patton slips across the hall to Logan’s room, knocking softly on the door.

“Enter,” Logan calls back, his writing not pausing for one second. The handle, cool to the touch, turns easily as the door swings open in silence, as if Logan oils it every day to avoid creaking. Frankly, Patton wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. The room beyond is jarring in its contrasts—a perfectly made bed beside a fully stocked wardrobe, out of which no rumpled clothes are hanging. Against this pristine organization is a scene of utter chaos, crushed papers strewn across the floor between dozens of pencils split down the middle, twins to the dismantled pens with their ink sprayed everywhere. Wading through the sea of trash, Patton arrives at the black desk chair in the corner, above which a tuft of purple hair peeks out. Scattered around the desk are more crumpled papers and broken pens, along with several burn marks on the wooden desk, as well as more than a few cigarette butts.

“I thought we talked about this,” Patton murmurs, picking one up and rubbing it between his fingers. Logan doesn’t seem to hear, one hand buried in his hair while the other is poised with a black pen over a piece of paper, which is covered in scratched-out words. Ink stains his skin everywhere, and creates splotchy patterns on the desk where it bled through the papers, intermingling with the burn marks. Some even reached his tie, staining the blue irreparably. With a nudge, Patton tries again for Logan’s attention.

Logan mutters a string of curse words before slamming the pen down on his desk, balling up the paper and chucking it across the room. More ink gets on his hands, and as he turns around to face Patton, his face turns out to have even more from running a hand over it in distress. “What? What is it? I’m busy.”

“Whatcha workin’ on?” Patton scrapes a few of the cigarette remnants into a garbage can, then sets about fixing up the rest of the room’s mess.

“Thomas has this big presentation in a week, and no idea how to do it,” Logan sighs, watching Patton putter about like a Roomba. “Virgil’s in overdrive, detailing every last thing that can go wrong, and Roman’s absolutely no help at all. He won’t stop insisting that I add some sort of dramatic flair, to make it seem more impressive.” Logan rubs his temples gently, smudging more ink across his face.

“Well, what’s it on?” Patton conjures up a paper towel to pick up all the pens, a practical foresight to avoid being covered in ink.

“Nothing you’d understand,” Logan says. He turns back to his work, pulling a fresh sheet of paper from a stack on the floor. Conversation over, apparently. The angle he grabs the paper at is too sharp, ripping it down the middle as it comes free of the pages above it. An infuriated Logan tears the remainder to shreds, feeding his anger even more. As the bits rain down like confetti, he snaps his head back to Patton, who’s still cleaning up after his research problems. “What are you still doing in here? Get out!” Quite unaccustomed to ever hearing Logan raise his voice unless a falsehood was uttered, Patton freezes, splintered pen in hand. “Are you waiting for a formal letter? I said get out!” Patton scurries out the door, tugging it shut behind him. He couldn’t have moved any faster if you had told him there was a puppy on the other side. The sound of viciously scrawling pens resumes in full force, even angrier.

Back in his own room, chased by the sounds of Logan’s furious writing, Patton sits on the edge of his bed with a box. A box of old memories, a box of what used to be, a box of before. He rifles through pictures, trinkets, collectible nothings that should have been thrown away years ago, before he grew an attachment to them. When he calls them memories, he isn’t kidding—each individual object is reminiscent of the moment it came from, cherished times for Patton to look back on and smile. A star sticker from when Logan helped Thomas get his first perfect score on a test. The certificate from when Thomas bought and named a star on Logan’s behalf. A conch shell from when Logan argued with Patton over whether the roaring was the ocean calling, or just the blood roaring in his ears. What happened to the Logan that argued in good fun, instead of yelling at Patton? This Logan, the angry one, he has no place in this box. Not until Patton adds in the cigarette butt, cementing the time that Logan yelled at Patton. Actually yelled, not just pretending for fun. A cold shiver, like icy fingers, skitters across Patton’s skin as the memory gets locked down in the box, and locked down in his mind. He can’t say he likes the bad times, but bad times are better than no times at all. Usually.

But there, is a light In the dark, and I feel its warmth In my hands, and my heart Why can’t I hold on?

A week comes and goes, Thomas survives his presentation, Virgil takes a much-needed break, and Logan cleans his room up. Everything should be fine now. Everything should be solved, just a little bump in the road. Nothing Patton can’t handle. Nothing at all. Not entirely nothing, but mostly. Just one thing. One little something that he can’t ignore. Those burn marks on Logan’s tie, the tie he refuses to change or replace, emitting a heavy smell of smoke that grows stronger by the day.

“Again?” Patton asks, grabbing Logan by the wrist after recording a long video. He plucks the small white cylinder from between Logan’s fingers before it can be hidden away. “I am bently jegging you, Logan, please drop this habit before it starts hurting Thomas.”

“Bently jegging?” Logan remarks, avoiding the question.

“Gently begging, same difference,” Patton says with a wave of his hand. “Just, can you try? For me?” Logan gnaws on the corner of his lip, considering for a moment. One look in Patton’s eyes, and he’s pretty much sold.

“I’ll try,” he relents, relaxing into a slouch. “I suppose it isn’t the best habit to indulge in. For Thomas’ sake.” The cigarette is passed between hands, after which Patton promptly tosses it in the garbage. Sure, he knows Logan has more, and can always conjure extras, but it’s a step forward.

“Maybe a hug?” Patton asks, opening his arms. Logan curls his lip slightly before embracing Patton loosely. The same can’t be said of the latter, who squeezes his arms together like a boa constrictor. Through the thick sweater, Patton feels something flicker, a little bit of warmth melting Logan’s cold shell. Progress.

They only break apart as Virgil passes, giving a weird look at the logical side willingly hugging someone. Logan pushes Patton away quickly, straightening his shirt and mumbling something about getting back to work. Patton gives a soft smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, where the hurt resides. With a matching smile at Virgil, Patton returns to his room.

Hours later, Patton will sneak out of his room to peek into Logan’s, to which the door is left open. He will peer inside at the clean space and feel relief, but only for a second. He will look closer and see the tiny plume of smoke over the desk and gasp. Logan will hear, and snap a finger to close the door in Patton’s face. Logan will not turn around to watch. Patton will sit in his room with a single light on, and he will wonder what happened to the nice, curious kid from when they were younger. And Patton will be alone.

It comes and goes in waves It always does, it always does We watch as our young hearts fade Into the flood, into the flood

The clinking of glass is what wakes Patton a few nights later. He hasn’t asked about the smoking, and Logan hasn’t offered anything. Maybe a good sign, since he at least isn’t doing it so openly now, but Patton isn’t so sure. At least a little suspicious, he eases open his door to glance across the hall—lights out in Logan’s room. The other two doors are dark as well, not unusual at—a check of the watch—three in the morning. Patton leaves the lights off and heads for the kitchen by the light of his phone screen, feet padding softly on the carpeted floor. The only bright spot in the house is the bare lightbulbs in the kitchen, made ever brighter as they bounce off of the coffee mugs on the table. Behind those mugs are Logan, Roman, and Virgil, all of whom look like little kids that got caught swiping candy before dinner.

“Are you kidding me?” Patton asks, his voice cracking.

“Hey, it’s not what it looks like,” Roman says. “We were just talking, and—”

“And what?” Patton whispers. “And you didn’t want me here to talk?” He tosses this out like a joke, as if there’s no way that could be the case, but his eyes fill with horror when none of the other three meet his imploring gaze. “Seriously?”

Logan opens his mouth, certainly about to offer some excuse or another, something completely empty and intended to mollify, not soothe, but Patton isn’t having any of it. He turns on his heel and walks out, leaving silence behind him as the door to his room slams shut. The sound of his memory box crashing to the ground is echoed by the soft noises of clinking coffee mugs down the hall.

In the dark of his room, Patton smiles to himself. At least they’re bonding, right? Even if it’s not with you, they’re having fun, and that’s the important part. He wipes his cheek, and his fingers come away wet. Funny, he didn’t remember turning on a humidifier.

That night, Patton does not dream.

The next morning, Roman does not apologize.

The next day, Virgil does not look at him.

The next week, Logan does not care.

Patton corners the logical side one morning, cutting him off before he can escape to his room for research or something.

“I just want you to explain one thing,” Patton pleads. “Why are you cutting me off?”

Logan is quiet for a moment, cleaning his glasses off on his shirt. “It’s not that I want to,” he sighs, pressing his glasses up his nose. “Thomas is just growing up, and we need to grow with him. I’ve moved past the whole childish thing, and it’s high time you do as well.” Leaving Patton stunned, Logan slips away to his room, locking the door behind him.

He never used to lock the door.

The freedom, of falling A feeling I thought was set in stone It slips through, my fingers I’m trying hard to let go It comes and goes in waves

It would be so easy to stop caring.

It would be so easy to let Logan’s friendship slip away.

It would be so easy to stop trying to hold everything together.

But that’s not what Patton is about.

Instead, Patton sticks to Logan’s side like glue, there for every possible memory he could make. Despite all of Logan’s protests, Patton can feel him wearing down, can feel at Logan’s core that the childlike curiosity that once blossomed in Thomas is still there somewhere, still fighting to reach the surface. That’s the Logan Patton remembers, and that’s the Logan Patton intends to bring out. Not this new one, acting as if nothing is important and he doesn’t have feelings. Patton was there for the late night talks, and he knows how Logan really feels about emotions, how the logical side actually gets hurt when people think of him as cold and unfeeling. Shutting down is the worst plan, but evidently it’s the one Logan is going with. Giving up on Logan is the second worst plan, and you can bet your bottom dollar that Patton will not go that direction if he can help it. Of course, that always leaves the lingering fear that he won’t be able to help it, and Logan will outgrow him without a second thought.

It comes and goes in waves And carries us away Through the wind Down to the place we used to lay when we were kids

“Come on, I wanna show you something,” Patton insists, tugging on Logan’s arm. Fast enough to make his tie flutter, the moral side pulls his friend into his room, not waiting for the door to close.

“What is it? I have very—” Logan begins, immediately cut off by Patton.

“Very important research, I know, I know.” Patton waves his free hand, sitting on the edge of his bed and leaning down to grab something from underneath it. As Logan carefully arranges himself for optimal comfort, Patton sits back up, memory box in hand. “I just really want you to see this.” He plucks out a yellow flower petal, smiling at Logan’s comments about attracting bugs and interrupting the flow of nature and all that stuff Patton doesn’t need to know but loves to hear. “I’ve never tried this before, but I took some liberties from Roman’s room, so just hold the petal and shut your eyes.” A bit dubious, Logan complies, nearly brushing Patton’s finger on the tiny petal.

When the pair open their eyes, they’re back in a big green meadow, dotted with daisies and sprawling under a softly clouded blue sky. “How did you—” Logan starts, running a hand over the grass.

“Like I said, liberties from Roman,” Patton replies. “Not as good, since I’m not exactly the creative one, so everything is gonna feel a little artificial. Still, do you remember it?” Logan glances around the memory carefully, taking in all of the fake sights.

“Yeah, I think I lectured you on cloud types while you just pointed out what shapes they looked like,” Logan says. “Why did you need to show me this?”

“Thomas was only twelve when we were here. Don’t you remember how fun it was, to sit and talk and share our thoughts without all the stress of being an adult with responsibilities?”

“Hm.” Logan shrugs noncommittally, rubbing the flower petal between his fingers.

“I just miss when we had fun. We didn’t have pressure or isolate ourselves in our rooms or yell at our friends instead of asking for their help.” Patton looks down at the same petal, the petal touching a hand connected to an arm attached to a shoulder growing off of Logan. “Can’t we go back to that?”

Logan looks up at Patton, something blossoming in his eyes. It fills Patton with hope, maybe they can really go back, maybe they don’t have to grow apart, maybe Patton doesn’t have to be alone anymore, but Logan speaks and the hope shatters. “No. We can’t.” He releases the petal, disappearing from the memory and leaving Patton by himself. The racing grass blades and vibrant flowers and dashing clouds seem more like taunts at what Patton once had than the peace they used to represent. He drops the flower petal on the fake dirt, opening his eyes back up to his room, Logan gone and the petal on the bed. It goes in the trash.

Memories, of a stolen place Caught in the silence An echo lost in space It comes and goes in waves

Patton only goes back to the flower field once, but the grass is all overgrown, interspersed with weeds, the flower petals all blown away with forceful wind gusts. Even the clouds are no longer a puffy white, instead turning into an overcast grey sky, angry and heavy. One of his happiest memories, with Logan of all people, and it’s been snatched away from him. This time, Patton throws the flower in the sink’s garbage disposal before heading to the far end of the bedroom hall that he normally leaves alone.

“Hey kiddo,” he calls with a knock on the door. The light is out on the other side, but the music playing is loud enough that the room shouldn’t be empty. The door creaks open a bit, enough for Patton to slip inside, pulling the door quietly shut behind him.

“Hey,” Virgil says from the floor beside his bed, headphones on and loud. His legs are bent at the knee, calves and feet resting on the mattress.

“What’re you doing on the floor?” As Virgil mutters something about falling off and being lazy and comfortable, Patton plops down on his rear to join him.

“Why are you in here?” Virgil asks. “You never really hang out in my room anymore. You’ve always been busy with Logan lately.”

“You’re not wrong,” Patton sighs. “But he’s kind of the problem, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Hate to break it to you, but I’m not the feelings department of this mindscape.”

“I know, and that’s not why I’m here. I just didn’t want to be alone.” The pair sits in silence, the only sound in the room coming from the heavy bass in Virgil’s headphones that he’s pulled down from his ears to his neck.

“I get it. I’m here for you.” Virgil’s hand trails along the carpet, finding and linking with Patton’s. He squeezes back, staring at the ceiling and enjoying the escape. His other hand finds a scrap of paper on the ground, stashing it in his pocket for the memory box. Patton shuts his eyes, thankful for the chance to let his mind wander, and not worry about what’s happening outside of the room.

I watched my wild youth Disappear in front of my eyes Moments of magic and wonder It seems so hard to find

When Patton later returns to his room to put the paper scrap in his box, it’s substantially lighter than it used to be. Peering inside, he finds several trinkets slowly vanishing before his eyes, just becoming less opaque until they aren’t there at all. As Patton rifles through the box in horror, he compartmentalizes each memory in his head—all of Virgil’s are still there, along with the new one, all of Roman’s are still there, and only Logan’s are going. Not even all of his, just the old ones, from when they could enjoy each other’s company without the strain of Thomas having an adult life looming over them. All the happy times of the pair in their youth, disappearing into the wind. He runs a hand across some of the keepsakes as they fade, recalling them with a weak smile. A pop bottle lid from the time they pulled an all-nighter simply because they could, going on a wiki walk to learn a bunch of nonsense about bees and flowers. A small books from when they decided they would take up bullet journaling, then promptly abandoned it for more exciting pastimes. The SD card from when Logan wanted to learn computer programming. So many good things, just dissipating to make space for new ones. The crumb that caught in his sock when he saw his three closest friends talking without him. A shard of a splintered pen from when Logan had to prepare for that presentation. A cigarette butt from when Patton caught him again.

Patton swivels in place, stretching for his mini trash can, and holds the box over it, ready to dump all of the contents and forget about them forever. Something stops him. Maybe a spark of hope that it can still work, maybe an inner recognition of the fact that he’ll regret it later in a moment of self-pity.

The box is returned to its place on a high shelf, and Patton falls back on his bed. That little voice that doesn’t want him to give up? It’s fading with the memories.

Is it ever coming back again? Is it ever coming back again? Take me back to the feeling when Everything was left to find It comes and goes in waves

“You’re being unreasonable!”

“And you’re being unsympathetic!”

“I’m being rational and giving Thomas the explanations and solutions he needs!”

“Well I’m the one considering how all of your plans are making him feel! Did you ever wonder if all of these schedules and decisions are overwhelming him? Have you even looked at Virgil lately?”

“Does it look like I have the time to check in on our resident whistleblower?”

“How. Dare. You.”

“Okay, wait, that wasn’t—”

“How dare you? You know how Roman’s jabs affect him, and now you’re adding your own in? Insult to injury, is that it?”

“It isn’t my fault he’s always overreacting to everything!”

“And it isn’t my fault that you’re being an inconsiderate jerk, yet here we are, me trying to fix your problems so this whole family doesn’t fall apart!”

A slamming door.

Angry footsteps.

Loud pen scribbling.

Cursing.

Patton turns and heads for Roman’s door, knocking a few times to get the fanciful side out of whatever fantasy his room might have concocted at the moment. Roman pulls the door open after a few seconds, only a few stray hairs out of place. He pulls them back up on top of his head and steps back, allowing Patton to come in.

“What can I help you with?” Roman asks, straightening his red sash.

“I need a memory.”

“Didn’t I teach you how to keep those? The whole keepsake thing?”

“You did, but that’s not it. The trinkets, well, not important. I need you to bring up a specific memory, and I don’t have a thing to commemorate it.”

“Alright, no problem. Just think of the memory, and I’ll be over here in the corner by myself, not intruding on your memory at all.” A blatant lie, but Patton doesn’t care if Roman sees this. He’d prefer it, actually, so he won’t be alone in remembering.

“Can you do it in the removed sense?” Patton asks. Roman flashes a thumbs up, and Patton closes his eyes, not wanting to ruin for himself the magic behind how Roman works. When he opens his eyes, he’s in Logan’s room, looking down at himself and Logan on the floor, leaning against the bed.

“You can tell me, it’s okay,” Patton says, taking Logan’s hand. He flinches, but doesn’t let go.

“It’s just the robot thing. I don’t get it. I don’t get you. Why do your feelings rule over everything?”

“That’s just what I came to represent, you know? I’m Morality, so I’m his sense of right and wrong, too. I’m more than just emotions, and you’re more than just an unfeeling robot.”

“How can you know that?” Logan sniffles, wiping a hand under his nose before it can start dripping.

“Because I know you. You’re important to me, and I know that on the inside, you care about all of us, and about Thomas. Even if you mock us for wearing our hearts on our sleeves, there’s still a part of you that wants to join in. If that ever happens, I swear that I’ll support you.”

Logan turns his head to look at Patton, an earnest look in his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

“No, really. Thank you.”

“Roman, I think I’d like to leave now, please.” Patton shuts his eyes, waiting until he’s absolutely certain the memory has vanished.

“You okay?” Roman asks, taking a step toward Patton.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, tearing out the door for his own room. He doesn’t stop to explain to Roman why he needed that memory, or why he left. Patton doesn’t want to tell Roman that the old Logan is gone. He’s not coming back.

I’m trying hard to let go It comes and goes in waves It comes and goes in waves And carries us away

Patton stands before the fireplace in the commons that night, watching the flames lick the iron frame. His memory box is in his hands, still emptying itself of the happy things. It’s easily late enough for everyone else to be asleep, or at least hanging out without Patton somewhere. He doesn’t really care.

Patton upends the box over the fire, its contents spilling out and curling in on themselves, melting and mixing and falling apart, their particles drifting up with the flames to the fake chimney and through the room, scattering across the commons for anyone to happen upon, an old memory that might make them smile.

The box emptied, Patton lets the heat warm his face, soaking in the past one last time, before it’s out of his reach.

Then he tosses in the box.

Tag list:

@sakurahayasaki @erlenmeyertrash @lemonpepperpizza @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @milomeepit

#sanders sides #labhwrites #mine #virgil #roman #logan #patton #waves #cigarette tw #smoking tw #songfic #hopefully this is alright? i wasnt planning on the whole memory box thing but i thought of it and put it in and kind of liked it #i definitely also have at least nine other songs i want to do fics with #and this one was nowhere near as angsty as i wanted it to be #but thats ok i guess its still pretty alright #what was missing and taxi cab were definitely better tho in my opinion #also i love this song seriously its so good please listen to it #i cut out some lyrics bc i figured no one cared to see the same verse four times #waves by dean lewis #anyway heres a story i guess #also [at]leesacrakon i loved yours let me say seriously 12/10 #sorry if this isnt too stellar #if you dont want me to tag you in the next ones let me know and i wont #yike okey doke here we go squad

107 notes · View notes

technato · 7 years

Text

Robot Gift Guide 2017

Over a dozen robots that we promise will make fantastic holiday gifts

Illustration: IEEE Spectrum; Photos: Hexa; Lego; Kamigami; Anki; Sphero; Mayfield; Husarion; Jibo

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Any time of year is the perfect time to buy a robot for yourself or someone who needs more robots in their life, but this particular time of year is even perfecter than most: The holidays are approaching, all kinds of things are on sale, and nobody will ask questions if a whole bunch of new robots suddenly show up in your house. To help you decide which robots to buy for yourself and which to buy for yourself and for other people, we’ve put together a brand new edition of our annual Robots Gift Guide. It’s stuffed with giftable robots ranging from affordable to ridiculous, and we promise that if you don’t find something you like, we’ll feel bad about it and be sad.

Also, don’t forget that we’ve got robot gift guides going back like five years (here: 2016 , 2015 , 2014 , 2013 , 2012 ), and since we try to mix them up every year, they’re great places for even more ideas for robots that are probably way cheaper now than when we first posted about them. And remember: While we provide prices and links to places where you can buy these items, we’re not endorsing any in particular, and a little bit of searching may result in better deals (all prices are in U.S. dollars).

And if you have some good robot gift ideas that you’d like to share, post a comment to help the rest of us find something perfect.

Anki Cozmo

Photo: Anki

With Cozmo, Anki promised both personality and brains, and somehow managed to deliver on both. We were initially skeptical that it would hold our attention for more than a few minutes, but we’ve been impressed, especially as Anki continues to add more education-focused features to the little bot. While it’s not the cheapest robot toy on this list, it’s a solid combination of entertainment, learning, and the potential for growth if you’re interested in programming. And even if you’re not, it’s a lot of fun.

$150 Amazon

Lego Boost

Photo: Lego

When Lego debuted the Mindstorms robotics kit in 1998, it was programmed using a simple graphical programming interface designed for children. But Mindstorms quickly found a broad audience among older enthusiasts and researchers, and the capability—and complexity—of the line increased over the years. The new $160 Lego Boost kit is something of a return to basics. Intended for children aged 7 to 12, Boost creations are controlled directly from a drag-and-drop-style programming app running on a tablet.

$160 Lego

HEXA

Photo: Vincross

HEXA is a six-legged programmable robot developed by Vincross, a robotics company based in Beijing, China. It’s beautifully designed, with a glossy white carapace, matte black articulated legs, and dark purple wires. The robot is powered by a dual-core ARM Cortex-A9, and its sensor suite include an HD camera, infrared sensor, IMU, and encoders. HEXA runs a Linux-based operating system called MIND, and programming the robot is made easier with an open-source SDK and a simulator based on Unity. These tools let users create and modify applications to explore new behaviors for the insectoid robot.

$950 $750 Vincross

Kamigami

Photo: Dash Robotics

In terms of sheer bang for your buck, Dash Robotics’ Kamigami is a fantastic choice for a robotic gift. It’s impossibly cheap yet brings lots of fun skittery, high-speed fun, and we also like it because of its high-quality robotics research heritage. You assemble it yourself from flat sheets, add the included electronics, and control it from your phone. And with Dash Robotics’ recent acquisition of Bots Alive, we’re expecting more great things in the near future.

$45 Amazon

Anki Overdrive: Fast & Furious Edition

Image: Anki

Since Anki unveiled its robotic battle-racing game Overdrive nearly five years ago (at Apple’s WWDC, no less), the company has been updating the product’s AI engine to make gameplay faster and more sophisticated. The latest version of Overdrive is a special edition based on the Fast & Furious franchise. Players use their phones to control the little cars, including Dom’s Ice Charger and Hobbs’ MXT, and can battle and race each other or the game’s AI.

$170 $130 Anki

ROSbot

Photo: Husarion

The ROSbot is a great platform for learning ROS, the Robot Operating System. It’s equipped with an ARM-based CORE2-ROS compute board developed by Husarion, a spin-off from AGH University of Science and Technology in Cracow, Poland. The company has done two successful crowdfunding campaigns aimed at developing powerful, versatile controllers for robotics. More impressive, the company has also developed a cloud platform that lets users create and update their robot’s applications from an intuitive web-based interface. You can use the CORE2-ROS ($115) to build your own robot, or if you want one already assembled, Husarion’s ROSbot is definitely pricey but includes some serious hardware: ASUS Tinker Board, four dc motors with encoders, IMU, camera, RPLIDAR A2 360-degree laser range finder, four distance sensors, metal chassis, and battery pack.

$1,250 Husarion

Parrot Mambo FPV

Photo: Parrot

Parrot makes some very sophisticated, very expensive drones. Parrot also makes some very affordable drones. The Mambo FPV sits pleasingly in the middle- it’s more expensive than some microdrones, but it comes with a real controller, an onboard streaming camera, and a headset for your phone that gives you an immersive(ish) nearly real-time first person view. Flying an FPV drone is totally different experience from piloting a drone remotely, and the Mambo FPV is one of the cheapest and most forgiving ways of giving it a try .

$150 Amazon

Sphero Mini

Photo: Sphero

It’s been an easy choice to include Sphero in our past gift guides, and it’s even easier to include the new Sphero Mini. Half the price of its big brother, and half the size as well (about as big as a ping pong ball), you still get just about as much of the programmability but in a very small and very affordable form factor. The bigger Sphero is faster, more durable, and has longer range, so that’s still a worthwhile option if you need a little more oomph and have a slightly bigger budget.

$50 Amazon

Jibo

Photo: Jibo

After a long, long, loooooong wait, Jibo is finally here. Developed by MIT social robotics pioneer Cynthia Breazeal and her team at Jibo Inc., this tabletop one-eyed robot is designed as a companion and helper to families. Jibo’s face and speech recognition are quite good, and you can ask the robot to check the weather, read the news, snap pictures, tell you a joke, set alarms, among other things. Kids, in particular, seem to enjoy interacting with it. The company is constantly updating the Jibo’s skills to make it more useful, but many people will wonder how it compares to an Amazon Echo or Google Home. Jibo is probably not as capable, and it costs much more. The little robot, however, is certainly more charismatic and funnier than the other gadgets. And it can dance.

$900 Jibo

Kuri

Photo: Mayfield Robotics

Created by robotics startup Mayfield Robotics, Kuri is part of the first generation of social home robots, and one of the things that makes it different from robots like Jibo is that it’s mobile: While Jibo sits on your counter, Kuri follows you around. It’s still too early to tell how successful these robots will be, but you can think of Kuri as an investment in the future of useful robotic companions. If you pre-order Kuri now, it won’t ship until next spring at the earliest, which is obviously too late for the holidays. However, you will get a plush Kuri toy and an art book this December to help tide you over.

$800 Mayfield Robotics

TurtleBot 3 Burger

Image: Robotis

South Korean robot maker Robotis announced two new TurtleBot 3 models earlier this year. The more affordable version, the TurtleBot 3 Burger, is powered by a Raspberry Pi 3 Model B and two Dynamixel servos to drive the wheels. It runs Ubuntu 16.04.2 LTS and ROS Kinetic, and comes with a 360-degree planar lidar, allowing it to do SLAM and autonomous navigation out of the box. It offers a versatile robot platform for users who want to learn ROS and are familiar with Linux and the basics of coding, networking, and robotics.

$550 Robotis

Robot Vacuums: Roomba 980 and Botvac D7

Photos: iRobot; Neato Robotics

While neither iRobot or Neato have any brand-new robot vacuums up for grabs this season, there are plenty of solid options to choose from if you (or someone you like very, very much) wants to adopt a new robot helper. The top of the line robots from both companies (the Roomba 980 and Botvac D7) feature excellent cleaning performance, WiFi connectivity, and the ability to generate maps of your home that will result in some exciting new features in the not too distant future. If you just want something that’ll reliably keep your floors cleaner than they would be otherwise, we have no trouble recommending the (much cheaper) Roomba 690 ($375) or Neato Botvac D3 ($400).

$900 iRobot

$800 Neato Robotics

Cassie

Photo: Agility Robotics

If you have every other robot on this list, you’ll definitely be needing a Cassie. Our favorite robot ostrich still has a ways to go before she’ll be scampering up your front steps to deliver a package, but even without much in the way of training, she’s nimble enough over terrain that other bipedal robots would find challenging. Available in a variety of bright colors and made in Oregon, Cassie just needs a pair of googly eyes to be your new best friend. (Googly eyes sold separately.)

Price upon request Agility Robotics

For more tech gift ideas, check out also IEEE Spectrum’s annual Gift Guide.

Robot Gift Guide 2017 syndicated from http://ift.tt/2Bq2FuP

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