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clanktheshortredrobot · 17 hours ago

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Clank the short red robot clanked down the dusty streets of Rivetville, his tiny legs whirring with each step. The sun, a bright orb in the gray sky, glinted off his metal frame, casting a crimson glow across the ground. Usually, Clank would be darting around, excitedly exploring the alleys and hidden corners of town, but today was different. Today, he had a rust infection, and his leg buzzed and squeaked with every movement.

Trailing behind him was Uncle Rusty, a towering robot of bronze and copper with gears that creaked but a heart that hummed warmly. Rusty was built like an old steam engine, with patches of worn metal that spoke of countless adventures and stories untold.

“Come on, Clank, the sooner we get to the hospital, the sooner you’ll be feeling like new,” Rusty said, trying to sound cheerful. His voice had a metallic twang to it, as if every word was squeezed through a spring.

Clank sighed, a little puff of steam escaping his mouth. “But Uncle Rusty, hospitals are boring! And the last time I went, they poked me with that oil dripper. It tickled, but it was weird!”

Rusty chuckled, a deep, mechanical rumble that made the nuts and bolts in his chest rattle. “I know, kiddo, but this is important. Rust infections can spread, and if we don’t fix it now, you’ll be stuck in the repair shop for weeks. And where’s the fun in that?”

Clank’s gears churned nervously as he glanced down at his leg, where tiny flakes of orange rust had spread around his knee joint. It tingled unpleasantly, making his circuits buzz in a way that felt wrong. The sight of it made him shiver, despite the heat radiating from the sun.

They reached the Rivetville Robot Hospital, a tall, shiny building with rotating signs that flashed Service with a Spark! and Top-Quality Oil Changes! at passing bots. Clank’s eyes, round and bright as buttons, narrowed as they approached the automatic doors. They whooshed open with a hiss, and the smell of fresh grease and sterilizing solution filled the air.

“Clank! Uncle Rusty! Welcome back!” chirped Nurse Alloy, a sleek silver robot with a bright blue LED smile. Her wheels hummed as she rolled toward them. “I heard we have a bit of a rust problem today.”

Clank gulped and clutched Rusty’s metal hand tighter. “Y-yeah, but it’s not so bad, right? We could just go home and… oil it a bit ourselves?”

Nurse Alloy chuckled softly. “Nice try, Clank, but we’ll take care of you. It’ll just be a quick treatment and a bandage, I promise.”

Rusty gave Clank an encouraging nudge. “See? Quick and easy.”

Despite the reassurance, Clank’s gears ground louder with nerves as he was led to the treatment bay. The room was filled with soft ticking and the gentle hiss of steam from nearby repair bots. Nurse Alloy worked efficiently, spraying the infected area with an anti-rust solution that tingled like a thousand tiny ants running over his circuits. Clank squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the discomfort to end.

“There we go! All done,” Nurse Alloy declared after a few minutes, her voice warm with triumph. She placed a blue, holographic bandage over Clank’s knee. The bandage glowed softly and made a happy chime when it settled into place. “This will keep the rust at bay until it fully heals. But no rough playing for a few days, okay?”

Clank’s eyes opened slowly, and when he saw the bandage, a small smile spread across his face. It wasn’t as bad as he had imagined. In fact, the bandage felt kind of nice, like a warm hug for his knee joint.

Rusty patted Clank on the head, causing a tiny puff of steam to burst from his hat. “Told you it’d be fine, champ.”

“Thanks, Uncle Rusty,” Clank said, his voice brighter than it had been all day. He looked up at Nurse Alloy and grinned. “And thanks for the cool bandage!”

As they walked out of the hospital, Clank’s leg felt lighter, the weight of worry gone. The sun was still shining, and now it seemed to sparkle just a bit brighter on his red metal body. Hospitals, he decided, might not be so bad after all, especially when they gave you bandages that glowed.

#robot oc

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clanktheshortredrobot · 17 hours ago

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Clank was a small, short robot with a bright red exterior that gleamed like a polished apple on a sunny day. Despite his vivid color, he often found himself in scrapes that left smudges, dents, or, as in this case, rust. Clank loved playing in the junkyard near his home, where forgotten bits of metal and gears were scattered like treasures waiting to be discovered. His Uncle Rusty, an older, taller robot with a copper-brown body and a voice that hummed like an old engine, always warned him to be careful.

“Clank,” Rusty would say, his optical sensors narrowing, “the junkyard is full of old iron and tin. One slip, and you’ll be covered in rust faster than you can say ‘sprocket.’”

But Clank never listened. That’s why, one day, as he climbed a leaning tower of scrap, he felt an unpleasant scrape along his left leg. He looked down to see a jagged piece of corroded iron, brown and flaking, poking through his metal skin. At first, he ignored it and continued his search for interesting parts. But as the day passed, Clank noticed his leg started to feel stiff, and tiny reddish spots began to spread like freckles across its shiny red surface.

When Clank limped home, Uncle Rusty was waiting, his sensors flashing with concern.

“Clank! What happened to your leg?” Rusty exclaimed, bending down to inspect the damage. He touched the area gently, and Clank winced.

“It’s just a scratch,” Clank mumbled, trying to sound brave. But even he could see that the infection was spreading. Rusty shook his head and straightened up.

“We’re going to the hospital. No arguments,” Rusty said firmly.

Clank’s circuits sparked with anxiety. The robot hospital was a place full of hissing steam, the sound of whirring drills, and beeping diagnostic tools. The idea of being poked and prodded was enough to make Clank’s gears shudder.

“But Uncle Rusty, I don’t want to go!” Clank protested. He looked up at Rusty with wide, pleading sensors. But Rusty was unmoved.

“Listen here, Clank,” Rusty said, his voice softer now but still steady. “A rust infection can spread to your entire system if we don’t get it treated. Do you want your gears to freeze up?”

Clank didn’t answer. The thought of being unable to move was worse than facing the hospital, so he let Rusty guide him out the door and down the path to the mechanical wing of Central Repair Hospital. The hospital’s bright lights and the smell of oil and ozone greeted them as they walked in.

“Patient?” A nurse bot with a sleek silver exterior and glowing green eyes rolled over, tapping a metal clipboard.

“This is Clank,” Rusty said, placing a reassuring hand on Clank’s shoulder. “He has a rust infection on his leg.”

The nurse bot clicked her tongue in sympathy and led Clank to a treatment bay. As he sat on the examination table, Clank’s legs trembled. He watched as a medical bot with delicate, multi-jointed arms entered, humming cheerfully.

“Well, let’s have a look at this, shall we?” the medical bot said in a voice as smooth as freshly polished metal. Clank squeezed his eyes shut as the bot cleaned the area, removed the rust, and applied an anti-corrosive gel that tingled as it worked. Finally, a bandage made of thin, flexible titanium mesh was wrapped around Clank’s leg.

“All done!” the medical bot declared. “You’re going to be as good as new in a few days.”

Clank’s sensors flickered with surprise. That was it? It hadn’t been nearly as bad as he’d imagined. He looked up at Rusty, who winked one of his old, creaky eyes.

“See, kiddo? Sometimes it’s not as scary as it seems,” Rusty said.

Clank smiled for the first time that day, the relief in his circuits washing over him like a warm current. Maybe the hospital wasn’t so bad after all, especially with Uncle Rusty by his side.

#robot oc #watercolor

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clanktheshortredrobot · 17 hours ago

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Clank, the short red robot with bright, flickering eyes and a gear-shaped dent in his chest, was known for his boundless optimism. Despite being made of rusted steel and worn-out circuits, Clank had a heart brimming with hope. Beside him, taller and more rickety, stood Uncle Rusty. He was painted in flaking copper and his joints creaked with every step. Uncle Rusty was wise and caring, with a voice that sounded like a whispering wind through old metal.

The two of them lived in a cozy, scrap-metal hut on the edge of Gear Valley, surrounded by the soothing hum of spinning gears and the gentle glow of old circuit trees. But one day, the peace was shattered when a horde of ravenous robot bugs swarmed through the valley, their metallic wings whirring like an angry storm. The bugs were unlike anything Clank had ever seen; they were sharp and relentless, and they craved metal. In no time, they devoured the walls of the hut, the squeaky door, and even the little chimney that puffed out steam every morning.

Clank clutched his most prized possession tightly—a small, patchwork robot rag doll named Rags. It had button eyes and frayed wires for hair, and no matter how hard life became, Rags reminded Clank to smile. Uncle Rusty’s old circuits buzzed with worry as he grabbed Clank’s hand. They dashed into the scrapyard, watching helplessly as the swarm of bugs reduced their home to a pile of bolts.

As the first rays of the morning sun shone on Gear Valley, Clank and Uncle Rusty stood among the twisted remnants of their old life. The landscape was empty, save for a few scattered cogs and broken metal pieces. Uncle Rusty let out a long, weary sigh. “Looks like we’re starting from scratch, little one.”

Clank looked down at Rags, its button eyes staring back at him as if sharing a silent message of hope. He squeezed the rag doll and turned to Uncle Rusty, his own eyes sparking with determination. “It’s okay, Uncle Rusty. Rags says we can find a new place, maybe even better than this one.”

Rusty chuckled, his voice groaning like old hinges. “Well, if Rags says so, then we’d better get moving.”

And so, their journey began. They wandered through metal forests, where ancient, unused robots lay asleep, their wires tangled like roots. They crossed over Copper Creek, where shiny gears floated on the surface, tinkling like wind chimes. As days turned into weeks, their feet grew tired, and Rusty’s joints ached more than ever. But Clank’s spirit never wavered; he would hold Rags up to the sky whenever Uncle Rusty’s eyes dimmed with exhaustion, reminding them both that hope was just as real as any metal bolt or steel beam.

One evening, after a long day of searching, they reached the outskirts of Rustfield, an abandoned factory town. Rusted conveyor belts stretched like paths through the old factory grounds, and the air was rich with the scent of oil and time. Amid the silence, Clank’s eyes lit up. “Look, Uncle Rusty! That building over there—it still has walls!”

The building was an old warehouse with a high, vaulted ceiling, cracked windows, and a giant clock that hadn’t ticked in years. It was dusty and dark, but it was strong. Uncle Rusty inspected the structure, tapping the metal walls and nodding approvingly. “This could work, Clank. It’s not our cozy hut, but it’s a start.”

Clank’s eyes glistened with joy as he hugged Rags tightly. The little red robot turned to his uncle, gears whirring with excitement. “We’ll make it ours. And we’ll make it better.”

Together, they spent the following days turning the warehouse into their new home. They salvaged pieces from the scrapyard, building new rooms and hanging lights that flickered with a warm glow. Uncle Rusty repaired the broken clock, and when it finally ticked again, its rhythmic sound filled the space like a heartbeat.

Clank set Rags on a small shelf, right by the window where the sun shone brightest. The rag doll watched over their new life as if to say, “No matter what happens, there’s always hope.”

And in the heart of Rustfield, the two robots found not just a house, but a home once more.

#robot oc

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clanktheshortredrobot · 22 hours ago

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