#walter robotics workers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

undyworld · 3 months ago

Text

the spine and his humanity : a very unorganized deep dive. this will be split into different paragraphs, each with a different topic, just to try and make things easier to digest.

The Spine, as we know, was the walter robot that was built to look the most human. named after his spine, which used to be a smoke stack, before he his spine was rebuilt out of titanium alloy. before a lot of the war stuff was retconned, he was built to look more human to do special ops - so they could send in the spine instead of risking human lives.

throughout their albums, The Spine has several songs in which he’s the lead vocalist that talk about how he feels the need to apologize for being a robot, or talking about how robots cannot feel the way humans do, both physically and emotionally ( hot on the trail, wired wrong, electricity is in my soul, a life of un-delightment, etc. ) and he seems to be the walter automaton that hates being a robot the most ( save for the jon, but that’s a completely different topic altogether ). he talks to humans, sure, but when he has the choice - he holes himself up in the hall of wires and stays on the computer. it’s almost as if he doesn’t believe he shouldn’t to talk to them because he’s not human enough.

this brings me to my next topic of stage bits. now, a lot of these are played for laughs ( and are improv ), but an overarching character choice i’ve noticed for The Spine is how he interjects things whenever the topic of them being robots comes up. the one that sticks most in my mind is the 10 year anniversary show, where Hatchworth tells them the goldfish they ripped up were made by a third grader. Rabbit says that they’re monsters, to which The Spine replies “we’re robots, we’re almost monsters.” now, this could mean a lot of different things ─ but it all comes back to the fact that The Spine does not see himself and, by proxy, his siblings, as people. they’re living things, sure, but by referring to them as monsters, he’s saying they’re something to be wary of. something to gawk at, or even something to fear. ( there’s also the whole phone conversation in which they say that The Spine hates The Spine more than anyone else, which i could also write an essay about ).

the topic of stage bits also ties into his relationship with food, eating, and drinking. during some performances of brass goggles, they have tea time, where the walter workers come out and serve the robots tea. while the robots’ reactions to the tea vary from show to show, The Spine is the only one who consistently never drinks it - either dumping it on himself or throwing it over his shoulder. he also consistently never eats anything, and even goes as far as to tell the other robots that robots can’t eat. no matter how much he tries, they usually disregard him and go on eating anyways. now, he’s also the Rule Follower of the walters, with both Hatchworth and Rabbit having snuck out of the manor unaccompanied using disguises ( rabbit wearing a fake mustache and hatchworth wearing a fake mustache on top of his mustache ), so he may not be eating simply because he doesn’t want to gum up his gears. but, it could very well be that he refuses to eat because he doesn’t want to make himself feel more human than he actually is.

my final point : the spine distances himself from humans and his humanity far more than the others do, and i think that’s because he wants nothing more than to be human. but because he can’t, because of the metal he’s made out of, he refuses to allow himself to indulge in the things that humans do. he doesn’t see himself as human enough, so why act human? why allow himself to enjoy the thing he so desperately wants? instead, he folds in on himself, repressing his deepest wants, desires, and even his emotions.

#steam powered giraffe #spg #spg the spine #the spine spg #the spine #steam powered giraffe the spine #if you read that whole thing i’m so sorry #woe. long post upon thee

140 notes · View notes

a-drifting-mannequin · 1 month ago

Text

Deviation

Fandom: Sonic (MOVIE)

Pairing: Stobotnik; Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik/Agent Stone

Warnings: Not beta-read

Summary: Stone and Robotnik worked with each other for a long time. First out of spite, all because Commander Walters felt like Robotnik needed a handler. Later on, however, they could almost see themselves as colleagues, work partners that complained constantly about their superior and picking up dirt from their co-workers.

As of late, Stone realized there was a change in the doctor’s attitude towards him. And something was also wrong with the badniks.

Badniks expose their daddy’s love for Stone.

Fic for @thisbellrings on Tumblr!

****

Robotnik’s machines has always been viewed and regarded as a marvel to Stone. Something that should be taken seriously, to be praised and to be documented in whole.

Not the government nor G.U.N thought about his machines that way. Robotnik’s machines were like toys to them. A new project to test run and another thing to destroy just for mere entertainment.

The projects weren’t deemed important to Stone. Hell, he didn’t even care enough about it to actually complete the whole blueprint. Robotnik definitely didn’t care enough to put more effort into it.

The only machines that he ever really cared about and cared to improve constantly were his babies. His own creations with no inference. His badniks.

Stone admired that about the man as much as he admired every other part of him. About the way he treated them with care like a worried father. The constant baby talks that the agent would sometimes stumble upon were no less endearing to hear. The talks don’t just limit inside the lab. Robotnik did it in front of several others before where Stone was present to hear it all. They mocked him for loving a machine more than loving in actual person, which resulted a series of insult and a broken nose.

To think that each badniks had their own unique implemented AIs to run their systems. Stone always thought that Robotnik was always the one controlling them. No one in their right minds would think a robot liked to follow them around, watch them make coffee and bump against their arm whenever a praised was directed at the drone.

Stone thought the constant head bumping was because the doctor wanted Stone to stop, because it was annoying to hear his assistant praise a non-sentient being. Even though the doctor constantly does it himself, Stone never thought to confront the doctor about the badniks’ strange behavior from time to time. After all, if it wasn’t happening frequently or was affecting his work in any way, then Stone was perfectly content with having them follow him around like they do with Robotnik.

One day was particularly strange, however. Thinking back on it, Stone assumed the badniks malfunctioned, but it didn’t seem likely since they always got their maintenance routine performed by the doctor. Stone got a hand in it, sure, but it was just mainly passing Robotnik the necessary tools to fix them.

It had been late afternoon that day, Robotnik hunched over at the main console while his fingers flew across the holographic keyboard, glowing a bright cyan under his hands. Stone had insisted that Robotnik use an actual keyboard but was aggressively refused because of the annoying tapping noise each key made that would repeatedly throw Robotnik’s train of thoughts of the rails.

Stone had been in the break room at that time, brewing the espresso into the cup he had gifted the doctor a while back while also waiting for the milk to steam. A badnik had been present at that time, one of the smaller models at least. It stayed hovering over his shoulder, watching his every movement, replying with a small beep to everything Stone said or questioned.

Stone couldn’t help but thought how the smaller models of the badniks looked like an egg, white and oval shaped just like the real thing. Sometimes, when he saw a swarm of them, Stone couldn’t but giggle at the sight of little semi-sentient, robotic eggs flying around in the air. He never questioned Robotnik about their design, and he felt like he would be berated if he did.

After the latte was made, Stone questioned himself what to draw on it this time. Before, when he had just started working for the doctor, it had been simple patterns like the tulip pattern since it took less time to make, and hearts were too intimate. Later on, however, he drew the heart pattern in many different styles and sometimes Robotnik’s face with little hearts around it if he had time. Those ideas were getting old, though.

Stone wanted something new, something refreshing if not hard. It could be simple but had to be something different.

As his mind wandered, so did his eyes. They eventually landed on the little badnik still hovering near him. Their design was simple yet intricate. The appearance didn’t seem like much, but Stone had seen the workings of their system from the inside before.

He knew it was a long shot, but he lined up his aim and took the shot either way.

“Could you just position your something like this?” Stone asked the drone, using his hand as an example.

The badnik registered his hand movement with a simple beep, immediately spinning around to the position that Stone requested. The agent smiled softly at the way the badnik held completely still for him to draw it into the doctor’s latte.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” It was simple and slipped out almost naturally. Robotnik didn’t like it if anyone else called his machines that way, but he seemed to make an exception for Stone.

After the drawing was complete, Stone picked up the cup and proudly showed it to the waiting badnik. Although the lining of the latte art itself was a bit messy and admittedly kind of wonky, it still turned out great in Stone’s opinion. And he wasn’t alone on that. The badnik chirped and collided with Stone’s forehead gently, it was like giving fist bumps but with affectionate head butts instead. Stone chuckled, giving the badnik’s dome a gentle pat before making his way to the doctor, badnik in tow.

Stone entered the lab, making sure his steps were audible lest he scare the doctor out of his skin again. Immediately, Robotnik registered his footsteps, removing one hand off the keyboard and positioned beside him, letting Stone use his hand as if it was a cup holder.

The agent beamed at the simple gesture. Stone would usually just place it on the table, announcing to Robotnik about his prepared latte. After a while, Robotnik got impatient and tired of always reaching for the cup himself after it was placed down. So, the sight of Robotnik reaching out willingly to wait for the cup to place directly into his hand had become a common sight.

However, Stone was stopped dead in his tracks by the badnik from before. It hovered in front of him, almost refusing to move as it just close the distance between him and the drone.

Stone just stared at the badnik, confusion evident on his face. It didn’t do anything weird, to say, just gravitating towards him as if he was a badnik magnet. Two or three more came to join their sibling, fussing over Stone as if he was an intruder and they needed to scan him for any weapons. Stone tried pushing the badniks away, but it didn’t seem to work very effectively.

“Stone!” Robotnik yelled, eyes not leaving his monitor. Stone immediately perked up at the mention of his name, his hand paused from pushing a badnik away from him. “Latte. Yes-ter-day.” Robotnik said, emphasizing by removing the hand that was on his keyboard before to jab his index into the palm of his waiting hand.

Before Stone could move out the way of the badniks that were present in front of him to deliver the coffee to the doctor, more badniks were summoned for seemingly no reason. The badniks just figuratively stared at him, moving closer and closing in on the terribly confused agent. A few hovered near his legs, as if inspecting his physical fitness. Others examined his torso, scanning his face and ruffling his hair. Stone just stood still, now holding the latte in both hands to avoid it from spilling accidentally.

“Doctor?” Stone spoke up eventually, trying his best to push through the continuous waves of badniks coming towards him. Admittedly, he didn’t know if he should try. “I-uh, do have it, it’s only that- “

The excuse was cut short, an audible sound of his teeth smacking together was heard throughout the lab.

“Stone, of all the days to- “Robotnik yelled, both of his hands dropped to the arms of his chair as he turned around to face the sorry excuse of an agent he got.

Similar to Stone, Robotnik was also rudely interrupted. Well, maybe not, but he did stop mid berating to look at Stone’s current situation that somehow stopped him from bringing the doctor his latte.

The sight was... a little ridiculous at best.

Stood behind him was Stone, nervous and confused with at least fourteen badniks surrounding him, bumping and scanning him. In his hand was the latte he was supposed to bring to Robotnik, still steaming. Stone looked up from where he was staring at his feet before having a badnik nudge against his forehead, forcing him to look back down.

“I’ve been swarmed.” It was barely above a whisper, but somehow still loud enough for Robotnik to hear the nervousness in his voice. Robotnik just grabbed the back of his seat with both hands in disbelief

If Stone was still a new agent, this behavior from the badniks wouldn’t be surprising. But Stone wasn’t new, and he had already become a constant occurrence in the lab. There are signs that he had been here for a while, and all the badniks have registered him as one of their main handlers (because Robotnik was and always had been the first).

Both were silent for a while, save for the sound of machinery whirring as the badniks fussed over Stone for seemingly no reason. Stone stared back at the doctor, big brown eyes in clear distress, the cup that’s still in his hands started to warm the meat of his palms but not to the point that it hurt.

After a few more minutes of observation and staring into each other eyes, Robotnik sighed and turned away. Waving a hand behind him, Robotnik clenched and let go of his hand, all the badniks immediately obeying his order and flew off in different direction.

Stone sighed and smiled brightly as he approached the doctor with nothing in his way, handing him the now cooling latte.

“Your latte, with steamed Austrian goat milk.” He announced, handing the cup to the visibly frustrated doctor.

To Stone’s relief, Robotnik accepted the latte, nonetheless. “Syco-friend, I’ll leave you to the mercy of the Badniks.” The doctor threatened, grabbing the cup with a glare to the agent who stood beside and behind him a little.

“Understood, Sir.” Stone replied, knowing well that the threat didn’t apply to him as harshly as the other agents before him. He couldn’t help but smile at that thought.

‘They have been more affectionate to me in front of the Doctor as of late…’ Stone thought. It hung heavily between him and Robotnik. Heavy, but not uncomfortable.

Robotnik, on the other hand, wasn’t frustrated of Stone. He hadn’t felt frustrated towards the oblivious man for some time now. But, as his superior and an important asset to G.U.N, he had a reputation to keep up.

‘The Badniks don’t even attempt to be subtle…’ He thought, forcing down the heat that threaten to flush his face.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

NOTE: The number of badniks mentioned in the fic is accurate to the original post (me thinks)

#stobotnik #agent stone #aban stone #but i didn't mention that in the fic #dr eggman #dr robotnik #singular fic #sonic fanfiction #sonic fanfic #no I dont think i'll post it on ao3

92 notes · View notes

chaostheoryy · 9 months ago

Text

Touch Me [Walter X GN!Reader]

Summary: You and Walter are currently the only two people awake on the colony ship headed for the outskirts of the galaxy. And while most people would find the company of a synthetic to be unsettling, you have come to realize you much prefer his presence over that of other humans. And perhaps you enjoy his company even more than you originally thought.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Making out, implied sexual thoughts

Reader: Gender Neutral

Word Count: 3.1K

Notes: I recently rewatched the entire Alien franchise and rediscovered my love for Walter. Because of course my dumbass feels connected to an autistic-coded character...There really isn't much plot here, just self-indulgence via smooching a big, wholesome android. And, as always, no beta. I die a warrior's death.

Living with a synthetic is easy. Like a faithful company android should, Walter has always done exactly what he’s supposed to when he’s supposed to. He never interrupts your work unless absolutely necessary and he doesn’t dare disturb your sleep unless following explicit instructions from you or MUTHUR to wake you in time to complete your tasks.

In addition to being an efficient and reliable worker, Walter has also proven himself to be a surprisingly pleasant companion. Conversation, it seems, comes naturally for him and his seemingly endless internal database of poetry and literature means he can recite any one of your favorite stories upon request. Though it’s strange to admit, there’s a pleasantness to his voice that makes every encounter with him comforting.

In fact, the more time you’ve spent together, the more you’ve come to realize just how much you truly find pleasant about him. The mesmerizing tint of his electric blue eyes. The imperfection of his crooked smile when you tell him your worst jokes. The gentleness of his touch despite the inhuman strength of his body. You know these are all things that were programmed into him by some random company engineer years ago, but you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to him than a bunch of 0’s and 1’s. He’s not just a robot designed to serve man, he’s…Walter.

The stronger your connection feels over these first few weeks of travel, the bolder you get when it comes to exploring your affection for him. It starts with accidental brushes of the hand against his arm or a gentle press of your palm between his shoulder blades when you squeeze behind him in a tight corridor. Fleeting touches that can easily be written off as necessary interactions given the nature of your environment. He, of course, doesn’t seem to mind at all. Every time it happens, he responds to your apology or “excuse me” with a courteous little grin and a brief utterance of reassurance.

On a particularly bad day, when nothing seems to go right and the loneliness of space grips at your heart, you ask for his comfort and he obliges. His hand rests on your shoulder until it simply isn’t enough and you ask him to hold you. No request is too much for Walter, so sure enough you find yourself wrapped in his arms with your head resting on his chest. Even despite his lack of fleshy internal organs, you find he’s just as warm as any human would be. And when he murmurs soothing words in your ear, you realize that no human could possibly comfort you the way he can.

“Walter?”

“Yes?"

“Hugging you like this,” you murmur quietly into his charcoal sweatshirt, “Does it feel good for you?”

“If you’re inquiring as to whether or not I enjoy embracing you, yes. I find it quite satisfactory.”

“Good.”

“Is this embrace satisfying for you?”

“Very."

“I’m glad.”

To your surprise, the hand that had come to rest in the center of your back begins to move in slow circles. When you shift beneath his touch, the movement ceases.

“Apologies,” he says as he abruptly steps away. The loss of contact leaves your body yearning for the comfort.

“No need to apologize, Walter. It’s fine, really. I…” You hesitate for a moment. “It felt nice.”

You stare each other down, both of you searching for answers to questions neither of you have asked. You know it’s probably just your mind playing tricks on you, but it seems as though he looks nervous. Then again, hard not to notice an aura of uncertainty coming from a presence that is usually nothing but certain.

“Have you ever touched someone like that before now?” You ask.

“No. I’m afraid it was never the company’s intention for synthetics such as myself to engage in intimate contact.”

You try to stow away some of the sheer sadness you feel knowing what he’s said is undoubtedly true. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because that doesn’t seem fair. Being surrounded by people your whole life and knowing that none of them will ever hold you. Knowing that the people who created you never even wanted you to be held.”

“Fair or not, it is simply a part of my programming.”

You frown. It frustrates you to no end. No matter how many times he or the little voice in the back of your head tells you that he is simply an android following his programming, you want to argue that there’s more to it than that. That he genuinely exists and deserves to live.

“Aren’t you curious?”

“In regard to what exactly?”

“Touch. Don’t you ever wonder what it’d be like to truly be touched? To be held and caressed and cared for by someone else?”

“It is something I have pondered over from time to time, sure.”

Your heart is racing in your chest as you consider your words. It’s crazy, you know it is, but you can’t help yourself. “Would you like me to touch you?”

Walter’s head tilts to the left ever so slightly, much like a dog who’s heard his owner utter the name of his favorite toy in casual conversation. Those dazzling blue eyes blink a couple of times as he considers your question.

“Yes, I believe I would.”

An inaudible sigh of relief slips from your throat. You nod, more to yourself than to Walter, and step forward to close the distance between you. He doesn’t move in the slightest, just stands there and watches your every move with the scrutiny of a scientist at work.

You start by taking his right hand. Pulling it from his side, you raise it up into the space between your bodies. Your right thumb traces over his knuckles while your left hand gently pushes the sleeve of his sweatshirt up toward his elbow. Just like any human you’ve ever met, there are delicate hairs all along his forearm that jump back into place as the fabric of his sleeve slides past.

After watching those little hairs shift around exploratory strokes of your hand along the backside of his arm, you turn it over and trace the now exposed lines of his palm. You feel like those storied fortune tellers of old Earth who search for hidden meanings in the imperfections of a person’s skin. But instead of seeking out some clue to the distant future, it’s as if you’re seeking the very essence of humanity in Walter’s palm.

“You have a soft touch,” he notes as you ghost your fingertips over the almost velvety surface of his inner wrist.

Your eyes flick up to his face to find him still watching you with a nearly unreadable expression. “Does that bother you?”

“Not at all.”

Reassured by his response, you can’t help the tiny grin that pulls at the corner of your mouth. And as unbelievable as it sounds, Walter’s gaze seems soften at the sight of your smile.

Suddenly feeling as if you’ve been caught witnessing something you were never supposed to see, you hastily draw your focus away from his face and back down to the hand in your grasp. Your fingers trace the lines on his palm a few more times before you curl his fingers inward one by one. When every single digit has been bent into the familiar shape of a fist, you rotate his arm once again and bend his wrist back. Then, with painstaking patience that could drive a man insane, you slowly unravel his fingers with your own until your palms are flush against one another.

“Like Dürer’s Praying Hands.”

Sparing a glance upward once again, you see him gazing at your pressed hands with a nearly awestruck look in his eyes. The way he appears mesmerized by the very sight of this contact, you’d think he’s staring at the aforementioned German artwork itself.

You elect not to say anything, choosing instead to spread his fingers apart with your own. Once they’re fully splayed out, you slip your fingers in between those outstretched digits and tenderly grasp his hand. For the briefest moment, his fingers remain fully erect as if every joint in his hand is locked in place. But, like the sun setting upon its earthly horizon, they soon slowly fold downward until your hands are delicately intertwined.

There’s a tangible silence in the room as you both gaze upon your interlocked hands. The only sounds you can make out around you are the distant beeps of some far off console and the soft exhale of your own breath. And when Walter’s eyes shift from your hands to your face, that breath only grows heavier. He looks curious, anticipatory.

“I think I’m beginning to understand why humans hold hands as a gesture of affection.”

Your brow raises instinctively. “You like it?”

“It’s pleasant.”

“Would you be willing to let me touch your face?”

He blinks, seemingly processing the inquiry. Then he replies, “Of course.”

Using your free hand, you reach up and gently cup your palm along his jaw. As usual, he doesn’t even flinch at the new touch. He just keeps his eyes locked on you while you explore the new frontier that is his visage.

At first, you examine his face like a parent searching their child for minor cuts and bruises after an afternoon of rough housing in the backyard. It’s gentle, yet full of meticulous observation. Intimate in a way only familial touch can be.

But after a while, you become familiar with the feeling of his skin and allow yourself to truly caress the face before you. Fingertips press into the most delicate patches of skin at the back of the jaw. Your thumb tenderly rubs his cheekbone as the butt of your palm teeters at the edge of his mouth. It’s not your intention to feel his lips just yet but it can’t be helped when your skin brushes past them. And just like a human’s lips would be, they are tantalizingly supple against your skin.

Goosebumps crawl up your forearm when you feel his breath tickle the inside of your wrist. Witnessing him breathe is one of those things that never ceases to fascinate you or quell your incessant desire to prove Walter is more than just some carbon copy synthetic. What need would an artificial person have to breathe if they were simply meant to be servants for mankind? Why make them so incredibly real if they aren’t supposed to live a real life? Why strive to recreate the inherently flawed design of the human body if they aren’t meant to be human?

“Is everything alright?”

Walter’s voice draws you out of your thoughts so violently that he may as well have shoved you out of the airlock. You blink yourself back to consciousness and are startled to find your thumb resting at the edge of his top lip, your hand still cupped along the sharp line of his jaw. His breath continues to tickle your wrist with every exhale.

“Y-yeah,” you stammer as you reposition your hand away from his mouth, “Everything’s fine.”

“You’re displaying early symptoms of common influenza,” he counters matter-of-factly, eyes piercing right through the shield of your lie. “Your heart rate is elevated and your body temperature has increased by half a degree.”

Your body temperature may have only risen by a fraction of a degree but it may as well be several dozen considering the sheer heat scalding your cheeks. The thudding of your heartbeat has become incessantly loud and your breath nearly gets trapped in your throat.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt as you pull yourself alway from him.

His brow immediately furrows with confusion. And if you dared to study his expression any longer, you may find the look on his face hints at disappointment.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand why you’re apologizing. You’ve done nothing wrong. If you are unwell, I would be happy to tend to you in the medical bay.”

“No!” The urgency in your voice catches you off guard. You swallow the lump in your throat, hoping it will take some of the embarrassment down with it. “Thank you. But, I’m not sick, Walter, I promise. I’m just…Nervous.”

His head tilts again. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re actively staving off immense shame for your handling of the whole situation, you might actually be able to acknowledge just how endearing you find that little tick of his.

“May I ask why you are nervous?”

A breathy chuckle escapes the confines of your throat. A nervous laugh that you had no intention of letting out. Walter appears even more puzzled by the reaction.

“I’m nervous because I’m touching you,” you admit, “Because touching you is something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time now. And because now that I’ve done so, I want to keep doing it.”

“Then why did you stop?"

It’s a question you weren’t expecting. But, of course Walter would be the one to bypass formalities and outright ask the hard questions.

“Because I feel guilty.”

“Guilt would imply that you’ve committed an offense or violation.”

“Running my hands over your body and caressing your face like you’re my lover sure as hell feels like a violation,” you argue.

Despite your tone growing erratic, he remains as stoic as ever. “I guarantee you, it isn’t. You asked for permission and I granted it.”

To your utter surprise, he reaches out and gently grabs you by the wrist. Despite your astonishment at his decision to reinitiate the contact, you don’t argue or pull away when he guides your hand back up to his face. Deep down you know this is the outcome you truly want, even if it’s one you never imagined you could have.

“Feel no guilt,” he says as your hand comes to its resting place along his jaw, “I want you to touch me.”

Your heart skips a beat at those words. It’s a statement that makes your mind race faster than any engine in the universe. Sexual innuendos and Freudian subconscious aside, the significance of his declaration isn’t lost on you. He isn’t just standing there, letting you explore his visage like some statue being admired by museum patrons. He’s now an active participant driven by his own desire to be caressed. To be caressed by you.

The mere notion of him wanting this is enough to conquer most of your hesitancy. Swallowing whatever fear remains, you bring your other hand up so that you’re cupping his face between them both. Your thumbs stroke at his cheekbones.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” His voice is soft, restrained. He knows it’s dangerous to spook an already anxious animal.

You dwell on his words for a moment. His eyes, sharp and disarming as always, seem to peer right through your orbital cavity and into your brain itself. If he looks hard enough, he may very well discover the thoughts that are tucked away inside your mind without you even needing to put them into words.

Before you can convince yourself not to, you say, “You’re beautiful.”

He blinks. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting that.

“The color of your eyes. The shape of your lips. The strength of your jaw.” You all but sigh as you trace the line of his jawbone with your middle finger. “I admire everything about you.”

“And what about the fact that I’m not actually human? Do you find that unsettling?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“Why is that?”

You nearly scoff at the question. “Because you could introduce me to a hundred strangers on Earth and I can almost guarantee you that you’re more human than most of them. You have shown me more kindness and empathy than half the people I’ve met in my lifetime.” You slide one hand down to his chest, splaying your fingers out over the spot where his heart should sit. “It doesn’t matter what parts you have or what fluid flows through your veins. I still care for you, Walter.”

In a way, you feel exposed. You never fully considered just how deeply you feel for him. Though, the more you think about it, the more you realize that it shouldn’t be much of a shock at all.

“I would like to kiss you.”

Now there’s a shocking statement.

“What?” You stare at him in awe, unsure that you heard him correctly.

“I said that I would like to kiss you,” he states, “If you find such contact to be agreeable, of course.”

Words are unattainable for you in that moment so you settle for a nod.

He leans in and kisses you softly. He’s so careful, so unbearably gentle that it feels like his lips simply ghost over yours. It isn’t unpleasant, of course. It’s simply too delicate. The whole thing is over before your brain can even process what’s happening. It leaves you yearning for more.

When he pulls back to look at you, he can see the dissatisfaction painted on your face. “Did I do it incorrectly?”

“It wasn’t…wrong. It was just very quick. And much softer than I was expecting.”

“I see.” He thinks for a moment before adding, “Would you like to do it again your way?”

“You want me to kiss you?”

“Yes.”

His eyes instinctively lock on your mouth to watch as your tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip. “Okay.”

You reposition your right hand from his chest to the side of his neck and pull him back toward you. When you kiss him, you do so with passion. Your lips find his like a drowning man resurfacing for air after being jostled by the sea. Not violent, but desperate, as if Walter’s kiss could save your life in the cold vacuum of space.

He may not know what he’s doing, but what he’s doing is right. When your tongue presses against his lip, he opens his mouth to welcome it. When you tilt your head to deepen the kiss, he shifts just enough to make it deeper. When your nails dig into his skin to drag him closer, his hands find shelter upon your waist to steady himself. He may be a synthetic by design, but it’s clear from the way he kisses that he is human by nature.

You’re nearly gasping by the time you break the kiss. The breathless wonder of a good kiss is a feeling you have sorely missed and, judging by the blissful look in Walter’s eyes, it seems he’s just experienced something similar for the very first time.

“I have to admit, I prefer your method,” he muses as a tiny grin pricks at the corner of his mouth.

You can’t help but return that grin with a big smile of your own. Your thumb grazes across his bottom lip. “Well, good news: you and I have a lot of time to explore more methods, if you want.”

“I fear there isn’t anything you could offer that I wouldn’t want now.”

#This went from a quick blurb to a full-on one-shot so fucking fast #Can you tell I'm a touch starved man who wants to love this touch starved robo-babe?#Need more Walter content ASAP #Walter One X Reader #Walter One X GN!Reader #Reader Insert #Alien Covenant #Alien Covenant Reader Insert #Walter One #Michael Fassbender X Reader

171 notes · View notes

angeldrawsstuffs · 9 months ago

Text

Love the fact the Walter robots canonically(?) can’t pass a captcha test, even if it’s just clicking a box.

Something tells me that was put in place as more of a child lock than the bots not having the capability to. Just imagine how many useless packages would be arriving at Walter Manor on the daily if Rabbit and Zer0 had unrestricted access to the internet. Also viruses. So many viruses because sometimes Spine loses the braincell and even he doesn’t realize that, no, this link will not give you free online tokens. In fact, yes, Rabbit, you should click it! This is a very good idea that will have absolutely no negative consequences (Six and the Walter Workers who had to handle those consequences would disagree)!

#steam powered giraffe #spgiraffe #spg #rabbit the robot #steam powered giraffe rabbit #rabbit steam powered giraffe #the spine #steam powered giraffe the spine #the spine steam powered giraffe #zer0 #zer0 steam powered giraffe #steam powered giraffe zer0

94 notes · View notes

renfieldrenrat · 11 months ago

Text

SPG Anthro Designs! ⚙️

Howdy! I drew the members of the robot band Steam Powered Giraffe as anthros! :]

Singular refsheets comming soon aswell!

Thanks SPG for making my life better and giving me CONSTANT songs stuck in my head, switching daily between songs with no break 🫶

This is the best hyperfixation I've ever had. I feel so seen as a trans and neurodivergent person.

Love you The Spine, Rabbit, The Jon, Upgrade, Hatchworth, Zer0 and Walter Workers! (Not to forget G.G of course too jdgfhfjdhdh)

Now excuse me, I gotta sing Rex Marksley while cooking and later on cry to Wired Wrong in my room

#digital art #anthro #anthro art #steam powered giraffe #spg #spg the spine #spg rabbit #spg Zer0 #fanart #spg fanbot #renfields_artz

105 notes · View notes

s0larspace · 4 months ago

Text

SPG Fanbot!!

Not to oc post but... whenever I get a new fixation I love to make ocs for the media and SPG is the same, so! Meet Sulfur!! Hes a porcelain drummer bot, originally built before Blue Matter, scrapped, and then remade during WW1 for a quick cash grab; but he was returned to the walter manor after some time cause he stunk, and he sat in the basement unpowered for YEARS until Colt (my walter worker character) found him and rebuilt him for funsies sorry im a yammerer lol

*also yes i am aware that technically the robots don't have genders, BUT it felt clunky to say "robot that used to look like a girl/boy" so i just simplified it :) Also also.. if anyone has a fanbot that they want me to doodle alongside sulfur.... hit me up

#steam powered giraffe #steam powered giraffe fanart #steam powered giraffe rabbit #steam powered giraffe the spine #the spine spg #rabbit spg #spg #spg fanbot #steam powered giraffe fanbot #steam powered giraffe zer0 #zer0 spg #original character #fanbot: sulfur

41 notes · View notes

largersillierfriend · 26 days ago

Text

This week we've been flushing out our Fallout TTRPG set in the ruins of the city of Portland Oregon.

My character, Jack Walters, is a Securitron that was programmed to keep the a neighborhood school loading area safe. Which he did, even when there were no children to keep safe, for over 200 years.

The other character in the game is Tom Ham. A ghoul who has survived the apocalypse by being sneaky, both in action and word. He convinced Jack to leave the safety of the school parking lot and help the children of the world.

The rest of the short campaign (and illustrations) after the cut. ✂️

We came across a group of book fanatics at Owl's Books (Powell's Books has some letters missing all these years later.) The book keepers all dress like great horned owls, wearing cowls made of terry cloth towels.

The first mission the owl people sent us on was to locate a first edition of the book "The Rat and the Racecar" by Barbra Clearly (instead of The Mouse and the Motorcycle by Beverly Cleary.)

First we made our way down to the Cascade Trading Trail Market (where Portland's Saturday Market used to be held) and bought stuff for the mission. Since Tom actually gets healed from radiation we decided to head to the Willamette River and get some irradiated water for free ... Big mistake.

The two of us didn't really do well against the large Bullylurk (using a Mirelurk game stats but with frog qualities and features for the narrative) but we DID manage to get away and leave it with a limp. But we also had to spend a day and a bunch of our inventory on healing.

Bongo Java is a local favorite, and rival company to Nuka-Cola. Though it isn't a soft drink, the people of the Pacific Northwest used to drink the same amount of coffee as most people did soft drinks.

The next day we stopped in the Bongo Java factory (where the Franz bread factory is, off Sandy Blvd.) and found a whole bunch of different one-off coffee drinks our GM made up for us. We also fought a few ghouls and radroaches.

We headed up Sandy towards the Nuka-Cola bottling plant (where the 7-UP bottling plant is)and found it, and the overpass over the freeway has collapsed into a sinkhole filled with Nukalurks making it impossible to travel up Sandy any further. Which was honestly fine, because we needed to head north towards Clearly Park (Grant Park and High School area) where Barbra Clearly's house was.

We ended up running into some raiders in the museum/home of author Barbara Clearly, but we were rolling really well for that combat and made it through okay.

After we made short work of them, the survivors and scavengers of the neighborhood popped out and thanked us for helping, and we got to shop amongst them for items.

Tom bought a bunch of stuff for healing himself, and Jack got to upgrade his armor!

We hacked the terminal in Clearly's house and found an email from the nearby school thanking her for donating the first edition. But when I rolled to hack the computer I rolled "a complication" which was that they shored up security because of the book.

TODAY'S SESSION:

We went to the school and fought a Super Mutant. It was a pretty short fight, but he harmed us A LOT.

After that we found the library and the "extra security" I accidentally rolled was a Protectron that booted up when we walked in. Tom rolled for stealth while I (using my high charisma) convinced the robot that I was a school worker and SHOULD be in there. At that point Tom hacked the computer and shut the robot down anyway.

All the rest of the rolling in the RPG session was for stuff like "how much time did it take to find the book" and looting the room.

As a great button to the end of the campaign, we found a radio attachment in the room to install in my character's chassis. But as Tom the ghoul started helping me install it he rolled another damned complication.

A radroach jumped out of my frame and attacked him. Game-wise the GM rolled that it incapacitated Tom's arm, but ALSO rolled zero hit points. So he basically described the gist cockroach hitting Tom in the funny bone.

As Jack went to smash the bug (and succeeded) I rolled A THIRD FUCKING COMPLICATION!

Since we were ending the session anyway the GM described that because my chassis was opened a spark flew out and set the library on fire, then spread to the entire building. IRL This song came on the radio, painting the scene as a robot and a ghoul flee from a burning high school:

We convinced the GM that since you can fast travel in the video game we should be able to fast travel in the RPG. And we made it back to the Bookstore, ready for our next mission (either chuck palahniuk, or ursula k. leguin) from the Owl People.

Thank you for reading this far, if anyone did.🩷

#mine #illustration #comics illustrator #illustrator #illustrators on tumblr #adobe fresco #fallout rose city #fallout ttrpg #fallout #Portland Oregon #portland #pdx #ttrpg #game #table top role playing game #role playing games #Spotify

13 notes · View notes