theoiljoint

[theoiljoint]

The Answer is ‘Euouae’

@ifridiot I hope this is silly enough XD;;

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Shi and Tipsy were deep in thought, leaning over the newspaper crossword. They were unusually stumped.

“‘Distribution of syllables in a Gregorian chant,’“ Tipsy said, again. Shi grumbled something vulgar in frustration, but stubbornly refused to use the internet and ‘cheat.’

A few tables away from the bar, Elijah had spread out an assortment of accessories and was pondering over them.

Keep reading

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The Controller for @amuseoffirebane

Nasty, dirty ‘bot. Bad boy.

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Anonymous asked: The voice cuts across the noise of the bar, loud and well practiced in authority. Punctuated only by the sound of the door cracking against the wall, "Police - This is a Raid!" ((Scare))

Bang

bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang

The whole bar is looking up, some are on their feet, grabbing their things. Cops? Here? This is safe, it was supposed to be safe!

There is a hole in her– its– body, left and above the big red optic that can’t move. The customer is lying on the bar. Something is spilling out of their head. Tipsy will clean it after he takes his drink.

Elijah is there, snaking down from the rafters. Everyone is looking around because the door isn’t even open. Elijah checks; there are no cops. Who said that? Who’s the wise guy? Asshole.

The customer is not taking his drink. Everything is spilling. Tipsy will clean it. “S i r p l e a s e d o n o t t o u c h t h e r o b o t.”

People are back to their seats, some are still standing, nervous. Elijah goes to the bar.

Tonic’s eyes are locked on the door and her hands– two on a bottle, two on the bar, her bar, her everything.

“…Ms. T? Are you okay?”

One long finger digs into a soft spot of wood and its enough to wake her up, for her to look down and see the scratch. Tonic blinks, and quickly puts the bottle away, retrieving polish and rag. Stupid robot. Stupid Tipsy.

“…Ms. T?”

“Yes, Elijah. I’m fine.”

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@punchyhandy {so this is a little random and several years late, but like, I don't remember if there was every a formal introduction between Bottler and Tipsy?

I was just thinking he might've gone in to investigate and like. Called the bar some variation on "quaint but trashy " to Tonic's face and that's one of the reasons he's on her shit list forever xD}

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I wish you would write a fic where... Ferdy met Tipsy first, instead of Spectre?

(Ooof, apologies if I get the characterization wrong, old-school Ferdy was a little different wasn’t she?)

Tipsy had slipped into the back to clean her hands of an errant gas spill. She knew as soon as she opened the door to the front that something was wrong. It was too quiet, too still; nobody was moving. Nobody except for the smiling greyface sitting at her bar, drawing a circle with her finger on its surface.

Tipsy warily approached. “Can I help you?”

The greyface laughed. “I think it’s me who’ll be helping you!”

“I’m not interested in magic.”

“I’m a specialist,” the greyface grinned. “My name is Ferdinand, the Anon of Love.”

“Oh no,” Tipsy murmured, lifting a hand to her face. “That can’t mean anything good.”

“Why not?” Ferdinand leaned forward. “I can sense you’re no stranger to romance. You’re simply out of the game! I know a mechanic, a little on the grumpy side–”

Tipsy waved her off. “There’s a reason I’m ‘out of the game,’ and it’s none of your business. I’m happy as I am.”

Ferdinand frowned. “He hurt you that badly?”

Tipsy paused. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry. What a horrible thing, to be hurt so. But you know it doesn’t have to be that way. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Maybe I wasn’t clear enough before, Ms. Ferdinand. I don’t want to be in love again.”

Ferdinand pursed her lips, then smiled. She pushed off the bar and into the air. “You may not now, but things change! And if anyone can show you the way, it’s me. I’ll be back with more ideas, Tipsy!”

“That’s Ms. Tonic to you.”

Ferdinand laughed, then disappeared. As soon as she did, the bar snapped back to life, unaware of any mischief. Tipsy imitated a sigh and returned to her work, trying to brush off the encounter. But she couldn’t help but notice the couple holding hands under the table, leaning their heads together to whisper conspiratorially.

Damn you for making me remember, she thought. Some things are best left dead.

[theoiljoint]

I wish you'd write a fic where Tonic and Shi hang out more <3

The bar still wasn’t quite hers yet, but the wheels were turning on her claim. Things had been busy– lots of paperwork, lots of people still coming by to hear the news and gossip, and always lots of drinks to be made. Tipsy hadn’t realized just how long it’d been since she’d seen Shi until he called her up, asking if he could come by on her cleaning day.

She wasn’t expecting him to bring his truck and a full toolbox along.

“Routine maintenance,” he’d rumbled when she’d fluttered her hands at him in protest. “Not lettin’ ya get outta it, ‘specially with ‘Lije crawlin’ ‘round yer ceiling all day.”

“Is this because I cleaned your garage? Or payback for the thing with my battery?”

Shi had only nodded affirmatively.

Eventually, Tipsy gave up hovering over his shoulder or at the foot of his ladder and got down to her usual cleaning. They worked in amiable silence, volleying the occasional question back and forth. She asked after Gage and Dowel; he did not bring up The Controller. And between the two of them the bar looked damn good at the end of the day.

Packing away his tools, Shi brought out a small, portable television and set it up on the end of the bar. “Si’down, Tonic,” he said, gesturing to the stool next to him. “You heard’a ‘It’s A Wonderful Life?’”

“I think I have,” she said, wringing out a rag to finish wiping down the bar. “A Christmas movie, isn’t it? I guess this is the best time to watch it.”

“It’s cheesy as all get out, so, you’ll like it.”

She slapped his arm with the damp rag. But she did like it. And near the end of the film, she leaned her head against his shoulder, one hand on his elbow.

“Thank you for coming over, Shi,” she said softly. “We’re pretty lucky, all things considered, aren’t we?”

At first, Shi only grunted in response. But then he glanced down at her and around at the bar. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Yeah, maybe we are.”

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but I’m forever missing him

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dammit connie

boy got air like jordan

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{AND WE’RE BACK!!

GET READY FOR SOME MOOD WHIPLASH!!}

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And... that’s it.

It was a long time coming, and it means the world to me that anybody still wanted to see what happened. It may not have turned out the best it could have... but I accomplished it in the end. I can be happy with that.

Thank you for reading! 

<3

[theoiljoint]

The Origin of Spectre

         Let me tell you a story about a robot.

Keep reading

[theoiljoint]

Epilogue

{Follows Splice and Finale}  

         And somehow, someway, normalcy returned to their lives.

           The Controller’s revelations drove many people away. Tipsy couldn’t blame them; she didn’t forgive herself for her part in their crimes, either. What she’d done was monstrous… but she wasn’t a monster. And she didn’t stop trying.

           Connie had completely vanished. People were keeping an eye out, in case he tried to cause trouble again, but so far it seemed he had left town. Hopefully, it was for good. And if it wasn’t... well, she had survived him twice, now. What would be once more?

           All the processors and cartridges from the deceased automatons had been gathered and quietly incinerated. It was all she could think to do. They had had their funerals, all of them, years ago, most of them in the place called The Haven where The Oil Joint now stood. It was long overdue finality to a lingering, terrible weight. It did not, exactly, lift. But it was over. There would be no more revivals.

           … But there was one last thing to let go.

             “Elijah?”

           The large head lifted slowly that night, after everyone had left and they were alone for the first time in… well, it felt like ages. Elijah’s yellow eyes did not turn away as Tipsy approached her, hands clasped in front of her.

           They regarded each other.

           “… I don’t expect you to stay.”

           Elijah did not move at Tipsy’s words. She waited.

           “I’m sorry I’m not the person you thought I was,” Tipsy said. “I wanted… I wanted to try and be the mentor I wish I had had, not the one that I did. But I still lied. I still betrayed your trust. You’ve always been free to go if you wished, but… I want you to know, you’re the best assistant I’ve ever had. And I’ll always think of you as family.

           Elijah was silent. One antennae lifted and lowered. Then finally, she said:

           “I forgave Shi.”

           “I heard. I’m very glad. He’s a good friend to have.”

           “You said you were young and stupid when you did it, right?”

           “I was young and very, very stupid.”

           “… Well, I’m young and stupid, too.” Elijah looked down at her hands. “I make a lot of mistakes, and I get angry, and sometimes I hurt people even if I don’t mean to. I feel right and wrong so strongly, but, sometimes I’m wrong about what’s right. And I don’t… I don’t want to go back to being alone, trying to figure everything out. I don’t… want to go.

           “I’d rather have someone who remembers that they were young and stupid once than somebody who thinks they were right all along.”

           Tipsy could not smile. She never would. But she could beam, and she could open her arms for an embrace, and she could whisper, “Thank you,” and that was enough.

             That was enough.

[theoiljoint]

Finale

{Follows Confrontation and Splice}

Keep reading

[theoiljoint]

Splice

{Follows Confrontation}

           Jacob entered The Haven with Klaus trailing nervously behind him.

           “Tipsy, Connie, we’re back,” he called wearily, shrugging off his outer coat. Klaus had insisted he come along to give his opinion on some photography spots, but Jacob wasn’t so blind as to think that was the whole truth. He suspected the two were still locked in their room, interfacing. He didn’t like it. Tipsy was her own ‘bot, of course, but Connie was older and more experienced. And weirder. Jacob didn’t like the way he’d been acting lately, and coming back to a silent basement felt… bad.

           Klaus shifted uncomfortably under his plastic ‘skin.’ He felt it too. “I’ll get the lights,” he said in a deep voice that didn’t match his little gremlin frame. It was his original voice, or as close as Jacob could manage to get it back to what it had been when he’d been a Santa animatronic. Klaus scurried over to the light switches and began flipping them as Jacob started toward the backrooms.

           Jacob opened the door to the hallway to find the door to Tipsy and Connie’s room open, the light pouring out into the dark hallway. He sniffed and frowned. Burning wires? Oh, hell. Oh, hell.

           He moved forward quickly—which saved his life, as he moved past where Connie had been aiming the rebar. It slammed down onto his shoulder instead, knocking him to one knee with a cry of pain. Jacob looked up to see Connie preparing another swing and lifted an arm; bright, bright blue light shone across it, and when Connie swung down, the rebar bounced out of his hands. Jacob staggered to his feet only for Connie to try and grab his throat. They struggled, and Connie eventually pinned Jacob to the wall.

            “The fuck are you doing?!” Jacob shouted in his face. “You son of a bitch, I should have never—”

           And then, over Connie’s shoulder, he saw her.

           “Do you like my work?” Connie rasped, eyes manic. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

           Jacob grit his teeth, rage overtaking him. Instead of trying to break Connie’s grip, he kicked at the robot’s knee and grabbed his shirt, shoving him back with inhuman strength. He wrestled Connie to the side of the doorway, gripping him where his jaw met his neck even as Connie’s metal fingers dug into his windpipe.

           Jacob summoned all the Blue that dwelled within him and pushed.

           The metal corpse slumped to the ground, fritzing. Jacob gasped for air and staggered into the room, dropping down beside Tipsy’s quietly frying frame.

           “Tips,” he breathed raggedly. “Tipsy, honey, can you hear me?”

           Tipsy’s fingers twitched and a low noise emanated from her voice box, like a radio being switched too many times. Jacob reached out with shaking hands and ripped the processors from their connections. After he’d removed a few, she jerked on the ground, her head turning from side to side.

           “Zzzhhhck—zhkk—J—Jaaake?”

           “I’m here,” he whispered, disconnecting the last of the processors and gathering Tipsy up into his arms. “I’m here, baby.”

           “C—C—Con—Connn—”

           “He’s gone, Tips. He’s gone, he’s not gonna hurt you any longer.”

           “Sorr—sorry—I’m sorry—”

           “Shhh,” Jacob said. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m gonna fix you, alright? Everything’s gonna be alright. I promise.”

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Confrontation

{Follows Verdict}

           “It’s not really over,” Tipsy was saying to the first group to meet her at the door of The Oil Joint. But her voice was cheerful and her eyes were bright. “I still have to file for adverse possession and that will take awhile, especially with all the other claims that will be going in at the same time.”

           “You still won, Tonic,” Joe said, holding the door open for her.

           “We did, didn’t we,” she said, beaming. Trayvon had almost fainted when the verdict was announced in their favor. For her part, she’d held herself pretty well together until she and Shi had gotten out of the courthouse. But then she’d thrown her four arms around his neck and let him swing her around, the both of them laughing in relief.

           More cheers went up as Tonic rolled through the doorway, whoops and hollers and a few attempts at chants. It was like a standing ovation; she couldn’t even see her bar at the other side of the room. She felt like she was glowing.

           Elijah snaked through the crowd and reared up, throwing her arms around her boss with a squeal. “You won!” she cawed. “I didn’t understand any of the words but they said you won and everybody’s so happy—!”

           “We did win, Elijah,” Tipsy said, patting the leviathan’s chassis and easing her back down to the floor. “Thank you for watching the bar for me while I was away.”

           Elijah grinned a yellow grin and took one of Tipsy’s hands in her own. “I have a surprise for you!”

           “Oh?”

           “Somebody’s here!”

           “Everybody’s here, I think.”

           “This one’s special!”

           Their progress was slow, as everyone who had originally wished Tipsy luck now wanted to congratulate her. Elijah huffed impatiently, claws clacking against the floor; Tipsy almost had to laugh. But as they approached the bar, she saw ‘bots with drinks in their hands.

           “Elijah, did you make those drinks?” she asked.

           “Nope!” Elijah chirped. “Your friend did! He said you taught him how.”

           That… narrowed the list quite considerably.

           “Klaus…?”

           But it was not Klaus she saw when they finally broke through the crowd. It was someone else standing behind the counter, someone else with his hands braced on the bar, her bar, someone with brass teeth and a mane of RCA cables who looked at her with eyes she’d hoped to never see again.

           Tonic screamed.

           Elijah caught her boss as she jerked backwards, fins flaring in surprise. The dead robot behind the counter laughed, even as all heads turned toward their scene.

           “Hello, Tipsy,” he said, the calm, friendly persona beginning to slip. “I’ve missed you.”

           “Controller,” Tipsy gasped, hands clutching at her face and chest. “You, no, no! You’re dead! He promised me you were dead!”

           The Controller tsked, shaking his head slightly. “Funny. You should know that the dead don’t always stay dead. That was always the plan, after all. Your plan.”

           “What’s going on?” Someone asked, the crowd beginning to murmur even as they backed away from the scene. Shi appeared at Tipsy’s shoulder, engine growling, but stayed back as Tipsy’s hand desperately grabbed at his arm. The Controller grinned, or bared his teeth, at him, and slid one hand under the bar.

           “Another guard dog? Well, listen closely. I think you’ll find this very interesting.” The Controller raised his voice to be heard over the crowd. “You all are here to congratulate Tipsy Tonic, correct? To show support for your beloved barkeep? To celebrate her victory as one for your community? Then I have dire news, friends.

           “You all have been duped.”

           The Controller placed the briefcase on the counter, a glint of mania creeping into his optics as Tipsy began shaking her head.

           “You entrusted her with your secrets, with your lives. But do you know who she is? What she is? What she’s done?

           “Let me show you!”

           And with that, he unclasped the briefcase and shoved it forward, spilling its contents on the ground at Tonic’s wheels. Pieces of processors, memory banks, mem.dat cartridges—the brains of dozens of robots—clattered to the ground, scattered like caltrops. Most ‘bots backed away in horror; those that didn’t just stared.

           “Your precious Tipsy Tonic,” The Controller crowed. “Is a murderer.”

           Elijah looked up at her, optics round and bright. “Ms. T?” she asked quietly. But Tipsy did not respond.

           “More than fifty automatons,” The Controller continued. “Met their ends under Tonic’s hands. I saw. I was there. She removed their memories as they died. Oh, she said she meant well. She said we would restore them. That we would build them new bodies, bring them back to life. We were saving them. But that never fucking happened, did it, Tipsy?!” He slammed a fist on the bar, shaking the glasses left behind. “I was left to be the back-up, I had copies of their memories—all of their memories—in my head! And you never once made a move to get them out! No,” he growled, bracing both hands on the bar again. “No, you wanted to back out. You had fun for a few years, but in the end you were a coward. You didn’t want to own up to what you did, you just wanted to stop. You wanted it to all go away.

           “Well, it’s here now, Tonic. I’m here now. And I’m going to make everything go away. Your bar, your friends, your precious community. I don’t have to open your head again to break you. No,” he said, brass teeth glinting. “In the end, you brought it all upon yourself.”

           Tonic was still looking down, staring at the processors.

           “Nothing to say, barkeep?” The Controller chided. “Come on. Amuse me. Before the crowd rips you apart.”

           “It was your fault.”

           He stopped smiling. “Say that again.”

           “It was your fault,” Tipsy said more forcefully, raising her head. “Everything you’ve said I did, I did, but it was your fault, not mine.”

           “It was your idea, your plan, your hands,” The Controller snarled.

           “And it was your responsibility to tell me I was wrong!” Tonic’s eyes were bright, bright white. “I took them apart, but you guided me to their beds, you showed me where to cut. You said I was saving them! I was so young—!”

           “You were never—"

           “I was 7 years old!” She shouted the words, one hand pointing at her chest, to where her Core lay underneath. “You had decades on me! And you acted like my ignorance was some miraculously preserved innocence. I was there for you to teach, for you to imprint with memories you copied long before I met you! Don’t act like it started with me!”

           The Controller looked at her with wide eyes, his jaw clenched. He didn’t look at the scowling, growling crowd behind her, the ‘bots rolling up their sleeves.

           “I wasn’t some goddamn mastermind,” Tipsy said, straightening up. “I was a stupid, young robot that you used as an excuse. I made mistakes I can never, ever fix, but I won’t take responsibility for yours. I won’t feel guilty for what you did to me!”

           “No less than what I endured,” The Controller hissed.

           “No!” Tipsy rolled forward, letting go of Shi. “No, don’t stand there and act like you were the victim! You pretend like I pushed you to do it—you volunteered. You copied memories because you liked having them. And how many did you take by yourself, Controller? How many were there that I never even saw?

          “How many processors did you wire into me the night you tried to kill me?

          “You’re no saint, Connie. No martyr. I’ve spent every day for the last thirty years trying to atone. I’ve helped people. I’ve grown. While apparently you’ve festered.

          “You wanted to hurt me? You failed.

          “I’m stronger than you, now.

          “I’m stronger than everything you put me through, every burden you laid on my shoulders, every bit of baggage you left behind.

          “I am my own.

          “So, get out.

          “Get the hell out of my bar.”

          The Controller looked at her. He lifted one hand and rubbed it across his chin thoughtfully, where his lips would be. Then he smiled.

          “Okay.”

          And then he was vaulting the counter, landing with a crunch upon the processors and cartridges, closing the distance between them with one, two steps, his hands reaching for her throat—

          Elijah’s jaws closed on his arm, and with a jerk of her head, broke it and sent The Controller spinning into the floor.

          All hell broke loose.

          Someone grabbed Tonic from behind and pulled her away as the crowd rushed forward. She slumped, her bravado beginning to give away to shock and panic, but she refused to sob even as oil dripped down her arms. She didn’t watch what happened to The Controller, but she could hear his furious screams over the tumult. She found herself in the backrooms with Shi, unable to make out the words he was saying.

          “I’m okay,” she repeated, regardless of whether or not he was asking. “I’m okay, just… just tell me when it’s over.”

            Soon enough, The Controller’s battered chassis was dragged outside, hanging by his arms between two ‘bots, followed by a few stragglers. He made no resistance as they hefted him up and over the lip of the dumpster. No sound.

          “He’s got a few days to get out,” someone said, grabbing the open lid.

          “And if he doesn’t, to hell with him.”

          And then, darkness.

[theoiljoint]

Verdict

{Follows Stranger}

           The courthouse was bustling with activity. Reporters tailed by cameramen were accosting plaintiffs at every corner, trying to get quotes on-air. A few people were speaking to them, but mostly they ducked away and scurried into the crush of the court. Tipsy was thankful for Shi’s presence; his stature and glower kept most of the reporters at bay. She did catch sight of Melissa Etterson, her suit and hair looking a bit more askew than when they’d first met. The reporter’s lips thinned when she and Tipsy made eye contact. Tipsy, for her part, only lifted her chin and turned away. Write whatever you like, she thought. Your slander won’t hurt me again.

           They made their way with some difficulty up the handicapped ramp and into the courthouse, where the swell was even more chaotic. Tipsy directed Shi toward where she had given her testimony, having some hope that they were supposed to go to the same room. Then Trayvon Rider popped up in front of them, looking frazzled but relieved.

           “Ms. Tonic!” he gasped, almost out of breath. “I’ve been looking for you! Everyone’s all over the place, I wanted to make sure you got… Hello!” He broke off, as if noticing Shi for the first time. “You’re, uh, a friend of Ms. Tonic’s? Pleasure to meet you, Trayvon Rider.” He held out his hand to Shi. The tall robot puffed for a moment, looking down at the lawyer, then gruffly took the offered hand.

           “Shi Carlton,” he grumbled. Then, “Yes, that Carlton. I’ve heard yer a buff for this sort of thing but I ain’t here for questions.” Trayvon was gaping, but the curtness from Shi snapped his jaw back into place.

           “Yes! Of course! Right! Uh, so much else to do, anyway. We’re in Courtroom 106B, it’s the biggest one. Down that way. I need to find, uh, everyone. 14 more people. I will see you inside.” And dizzily, he disappeared again into the swell of people.

           “He’s a nice kid,” Tipsy said simply as Shi raised an eyebrow at her. “I’ll try and keep him off your back.”

           They ran into one more person before they could make it inside the courtroom. He stood just off to the side of its doors, trying his best to sink into the wall behind him, lenses clicking in their endless nervous cacophony.

           “Abacus?” Tipsy said, her grip on Shi’s arm loosening. “Abacus, I—I didn’t think I would see you again. Are you…” Her voice faltered, and she hesitantly reached out a hand. “Are you alright?”

           Abacus gave a shaky laugh, but he clasped her hand in both of his. “As well as ever,” he said, and she could feel him shivering. “I figured—I didn’t see you at the t-testimony—and this might b-be the last time—”

           “They were terrible to you, weren’t they,” Tipsy said, squeezing his hand. “I never wanted you to get hurt.”

           He nodded. “I—I—I blamed you, at first. I did. But—but nothing they did—nothing they did was you. And I thought about it. I thought about it a lot!” Abacus looked more serious than Tipsy had ever seen him. “We all talked about it, m-me and the others. A-and we wanted to say—” He straightened up, as if making a pronouncement. “That we hope when you win, you’ll be a t-testament to everything Hornester should regret!”

           It was, perhaps a little cheesy. But it was a boldness Tipsy had never seen in the city ‘bot, and she responded by looping an arm around Abacus’ neck, hugging him gently.

           “Thank you, Aba,” she said quietly. “I will be.”

           Abacus’ lenses moved rapidly, and he looked over Tipsy’s shoulder at Shi as if afraid the towering ‘bot was going to punch him. Abacus nodded repeatedly, giving Tipsy a quick pat on the back before shrinking away again. “Th-that was all. I-I, um, I have to go, back to work, but we’ll be listening, and, okay, goodbye.” And with that he fled down the corridor, leaving Tipsy and Shi to find their seats.

             The courtroom was crammed with people mumbling to each other. Tipsy couldn’t feel their collective body heat, but her internal thermometer was rising. She could see the sweat on Trayvon’s face even from her position at the back of the room.

           The jury had been deliberating for a long time, and though she was a patient person, the stress of waiting was beginning to wear on her. Her arms were still around Shi’s, and she tightened her grip just a hair. Soon, she thought. Soon it’ll all be over.

           Everything went quiet. Solemnly, the jury filed back into the room and took their seats. One woman remained standing, and she glanced out over the crowd before turning to look at the judge.

           “Have you reached a verdict?” the judge asked.

           “We have, Your Honor,” the foreperson replied.

           “What say you?”

             The Oil Joint was silent. Every ‘bot in the room held in their steam and smoke.

           Connie stared at the radio.

             “We the jury, in the case of Robichaud vs The City of Plifterston, find the defendant guilty of the charge of extortion.”

             And the crowd went wild.