#Robo Writes

[robo-writing]

Cockwarming with Logan is one of those ideas that sound good on paper, but could never work in reality. Listen up, and I’ll tell you why. (18+)

The heat of you enveloping him is nirvana itself, your hands on his body sending him to cloud nine. They linger on his chest, pawing, caressing, blazing a trail from his collarbone to his face, nails burying themselves into the darkened locks as you stare at him with nothing short of pure adoration.

“Feel good?” You ask, and he’s so drunk off you that he can only bring himself to nod, breath hitching when your hips circle themselves in his lap. Your laughter is nothing short of melodic, pressing yourself into the broad length of his chest.

He feels everything like this—the heat of your nude body against his, the scent of your body wash, your shaky breaths—every sense on overdrive. It’s there you sit, unmoving, unwavering, every movement causing your pussy to clench around him, and in turn, makes his chest rumble appreciatively.

“Should listen to you more often,” Logan mumbles, biting his lip at the feeling of you nibbling at his neck. “Just full of bright ideas, ain’tcha?”

“Full of a lot of things,” you sigh, and the sound makes his cock twitch.

But, there’s something missing.

Your quiet whimpers, your doe eyes staring at him from above—the way your pussy clenches in response to every touch, pulsing around his cock—it’s good, but it’s not enough.

Tugging at him, an itch he can’t scratch, it gnaws away at his mind until he finds himself searching for more, and the realization hits him like a wave.

It’s patience he lacks, an epiphany that has his lips curling into a smirk. It’s a lesson soon learned when his fingers dig into your hips and lift, surprise evident on your face. His downfall, as with most things, is his lack of patience. When it comes to you, he could even go as far to call it greed.

“Logan?” You ask, not a word given in response. His palms run up your back, large digits squeezing at your flesh, and yet the feeling does little to settle the sudden flare of nerves that build in your core. The calm before the storm, the impending sense of doom, women’s intuition—or maybe it’s because you’ve become intimately familiar with the devious smile that spreads across Logan’s face.

“Logan? What are you—“

You’re soon cut short, interrupted by the feeling of him slamming you back onto his cock, your short gasp making ego soar to new heights.

“Sorry doll, change of plans,” he grunts, bouncing you on his lap without a care in the world. The sudden change of pace has you scrambling for purchase, hands clamoring around his neck as you struggle to keep up.

“Logan, wait—ohmygod—“ you whine, and the sound is like music to his ears. His attempt at soothing your worries is his hand sliding across your ass, the sharp sting of it making you jump, but lucky for you Logan’s there to pull you back onto his cock.

Up, down, up, down. A constant rhythm that finally satiates the beast within him, the dull thud of skin on skin enough to have him melting into his chair, a wave of content spreading through every vein of his body. In contrast, you feel your own becoming more tense by the second; toes curling, breath caught in your throat, an incomprehensible string of noises leaving your lips as Logan watches with bated breath.

He tuts at you, the sound nothing short of mocking. “No runnin’ away sweetheart, this was your idea.”

“Not like this,” you moan, hiding yourself in his neck. “Wanted to relax…”

Your voice trails off, unable to speak when Logan’s practically fucking every rational thought from your head. Slowly but surely, any idea of protest is drowned out by the heat that burns inside of you, a dull ember that builds into a blaze, unable to focus on anything that isn’t Logan or his cock grinding inside you.

You can hear his laughter bellowing deep within his chest, amused at your brainless state, right before he quickens his pace. “Trust me sweetheart, I’m real fuckin’ relaxed right now.”

[robo-drake09]

Short Fic

Main Chars: Surge, Barley

•

Another night at the bar. Sometimes all you need is a good drink and someone to talk to.

Feelings aren't as easy to express when one is so unsure.

[Implied/Potential PartyRules]

Another night at the bar. Just when Barley is about to close up for the night, one last customer comes in.

Sometimes all you need is a good drink and someone to talk to.

Sometimes feelings aren't as easy to express when one is so unsure.

Implication of PartyRules - Surge x Larry.

⭐

Just a few more glasses to wipe and stock before he could officially close up for the night.

It was then when a large robot waltzed in, taking a well used seat at the bar table, just a click before closing time. It would've been surprising given how he had barely heard the bot come in… though, a part of Barley felt as though it was no surprise at all. He whipped his head around, not to shoo him out, but to serve the grand latecomer.

"...back here again. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Barley chimed, lifting his view to meet that client he had gotten to know all too well by now. The Super regular.

It would be one of those nights, it seems.

"I'll take a round of my usual, you know the drill." Surge nodded back at him, his smile meeting that peppy expression as he kicked his feet up on another stool. Barley glanced at them, tapping a finger on the bar top.

"Must I remind you of the etiquette here?"

"Come on, I'll cover for it! Always do- plus, nobody's here anyways." Surge stretched his arms, little clinks of his joints churning as he got comfortable. "I heard you got a new shipment in. Can I..?"

"Word travels fast, hm? Yes, I did receive a new supply of drinks."

Surge beamed, He took out a bottle of energy juice, twirling it in his hand.

"Available for customs?" He asked, tossing the bottle at Barley, who caught it without moving an inch from his spot. He analysed the bottle, noting its pristine condition, fresh labels and all. His eye chimed a warm yellow, along with a nod of his head.

"Always."

-

One, two, three... Goodness, was he glad he stocked some of the bottles in the back for the next day. As much love as he held for this work, as well as the customers that brought him the joy of service... Some days, it really was a question of some people's indulgence to his finely crafted drinks.

Maybe he was too good, hoho...

Surge downed another pint, his engines letting a low rev of satisfaction. Though it would put a costly dent in the budget, it was worth it. He hadn't enjoyed drinks of this quality anywhere but Barley's in all his years of service. Just one of the reasons he'd always come back here.

The atmosphere and Barley's quips could only hold for so long. Surge hadn't once mentioned what his visit today was caused by. That... was unusual, actually.

The average barkeep would mind their own. Listen, pour, serve.

A good barkeep would get to know their customers at these rare hours of the night. After all, it was their responsibility to ensure the safety and comfort of their regulars.

"So many visits lately."

Surge turned his head, giving him a half shrug. "You complaining? I can find another place to wind down, if there's trouble."

"Of course not. Why, I'd never scare off a loyal customer. Let alone one like yourself.” Barley laughed, fixing the bowtie on his chest. “Your business here means good business for me.”

Surge let a soft chuckle out at that, taking another swig of the mighty pint.

"Your place is all the range once fans got whiff of what I think of it. Plus, your talents are one of a kind, Barley."

"Please, you flatter me."

Surge raised a cheer with his drink, taking another sip. He set it down on the table, on a coaster, of course, before leaning an arm on the bar top.

"Anyway… for your comment, I've just got some weird bug floating around my systems. At least, that's what Meg says."

Barley blinked. "Have you gotten that checked? I do have some scanners in the back, if you need." He was fast to offer to get the machine, only to be stopped by Surge shaking his hands.

"No, I'm good! It's not that kind of bug. More like a made up, processing kind—" Surge sighed, a faint warmth coming from his form. His smile was unsteady, head turned away "— the girls call them... butterflies."

"Ah."

That kind of bug.

The bartending robot kept his charming, calm expression. Despite one, having learned of this reason; two, the adorable use of the human expression he adopted from his friends. As for Barley, he knew very well of the term with human context.

Butterflies: To feel unusually nervous to a scenario, often associated with crushes and interests.

Speaking of, it had been quite some time since Surge's last partner... and for good reason. The party bot had broken all records of drinking in that era. Though, that was only known to those who came by at those unkind hours of the night.

Of course, he has a reputation to keep up, and all.

But, who was this newcomer? It was quite a surprise to learn that, really.

"I dunno, they're just overreacting." He finished his glass, sliding it across the counter for another refill.

"Those two do know you best."

Surge shrugged, his audio receptors tilting to the middle position than its usual high standing.

"Yeah, I guess. All it took was this thing I said about how their smile was nice and all, what's the big deal, huh?"

"Nice?"

"Yeah, nice. And cute, or... wait, no- Yeah? How he's always smiling, doin' good and helping people with his job. I like that." Surge swiped the drink up just as it was placed on the coaster in front of him, swirling the liquid around in the glass. "That smiley bot's got real confidence. You don't see that much, not outside of brawls. Nicer than his brother, but man, don't push his buttons, or he's worse than that pitbull!"

Surge laughed at the last name he'd given, bringing a hand up as if to wipe an imaginary tear from his eyes. Barley's interest, meanwhile, had piqued. A smiley robot, with a brother akin to a pitbull... Only one duo in this park fit that description.

Larry and Lawrie, the former, presumably, being this alleged crush.

Larry.

Barley couldn't help but start chuckling as well, placing down the bottle in his hand, lest he drop it and waste the precious drink.

"Hey, what's got you laughing? Didn't take you for enjoying jokes like that." Surge asked, interested in the sudden expression from the bartender.

"I'm merely surprised at this revelation. So, it's Larry at the center of your conflicts now—" Barley's eye flashed a bright yellow, his eye lit up as he laughed "—Hoho, It seems you have a type!"

...

Neither said anything for a considerable, devastatingly painful few seconds. Barley questioned at that moment if those had been the right words to use... Perhaps he had hit a sore spot-

Surge shifted first. He let out a hearty laugh, as that bright smile remained, maybe a tad too much to quite sell the denial. His audio receptors had perked all the way up, too alert.

But, he knew.

Barley always knew.

Just a question of whether or not he'd admit it outright. Knowing how early on this interest seemed to be, perhaps it wasn't meant to be at this moment.

"You're funny, you old rust bucket!" Surge took a swig of his drink, attempting to shift what he'd said, albeit a tad... suddenly.

Barley wasn't about to let it go, though.

"On the contrary, my heroic friend, I mean that quite literally. I find it interesting how you have a type for those who are willing to put others and safety before their own. Good morals seek good morals."

Surge shrugged it off, waving a dismissive hand. He'd downed the rest of his drink, letting the glass clunk heavily on that coaster, keeping the bar top just barely protected.

"Yeah. Sure, the bot has good meaning... I said I respect him and how he stands up for himself. He isn't a pushover."

"I'm well aware, do not worry."

"But that doesn't mean I have a type. Just... coincidence, that's all."

Barley prepared another drink, taking some ice from a cooler behind him.

"...right."

Surge's golden ears tilted back at the unconvincing 'agreement.'

"So, am I safe to assume you do not have similar feelings for the security bot?"

"Yes! Well- maybe? It's not that it's a type, it's just...hm." Surge paused, his smile shifting slightly to a more neutral look as he thought.

Barley watched intently, having seen similar expressions on multiple occasions over the years. The look of the ones who are unable to tell their feelings at the moment. The hesitation was enough of a confirmation for him.

"Look, don't call it like that... like I'm trying to, just… As if I'm trying to find someone almost like him-" How stupid would that be, right? He was supposed to be over his last partner by now, yet here he was, drinking away his thoughts of falling once more. Was he afraid? Still not over what had happened? How stupid he was to be here, pouring his words out to the local barkeep about this dumb bug in his head. Meanwhile he'd probably be judging him for all that he'd spat out—

Barley cleared his throat, catching the hero's attention briefly from his wandering processor.

"I'd suggest nothing of the sort. I merely asked out of curiosity, not to judge."

Surge looked at the barkeep properly now, who was entirely confident and true with his statement. Barley wasn't one to He rubbed the back of his head, his ears tilting downwards as he... frowned. The rare, pouty, small frown, one that this hero had worked to push aside for ages since he had felt better regarding his former partner.

"...I know."

"Then, do you feel that you like him?"

Surge looked between Barley and the glass in front of him, back and forth as if either would've given him the answer he needed. Unfortunately, none would come. He sighed, before only giving the older bot a shrug as an answer.

"I don't know yet."

Barley stared at him a moment. He leaned over, extending his arm to pat the shoulder of the bigger robot.

"That's okay."

Such simple words went a long way. He noticed that with humans as well.

Surge managed a smile. Not the overly big one he usually had, but a simpler, acknowledging smile.

Surge stood up, his legs keeping him upright and steady, despite the vast quantities of drinks he'd just consumed. You'd hardly tell, unless you knew where to look. The way he spoke, and the slight darker tint to his energy drink gauge.

Thankfully, he'd burn through any remnants of alcohol by midday, as if nothing had ever happened.

"I'll send you the pay when I get back to the city. Left my gold at base." He chuckled, patting his compartments, only to find nothing but other energy drinks stocked up in them.

"As always... I'll be expecting it in due time. Take care, Surge."

Surge gave a two fingered salute in response, finally allowing Barley his much needed rest for the night once those doors closed.

It wouldn't be a long goodbye, anyway.

Barley felt he'd see him again soon.

[valentronic]

Chapter 7! After a very very too long hiatus oops >_>

[robo-writing]

Huffing into your open mouth, getting just close enough to taste the air between the both of you, licking his lips at the sound of your whimpers. His two fingers spreading you open, nice and thick, big enough to have to writhing against his hand but not enough, never enough.

It’s cute how you hand grabs around his wrist, dainty fingers barely able to wrap around the circumference of it. It’s cute, how you try to manipulate him into giving more than what you’re getting, but you’re not in control here darling, you never were.

“Tryin’ to be greedy?” he grunts, pushing himself further into your space, knocking your knees apart with his own. You whine, try your best to push his fingers deeper into your wanting heat, but he only laughs at the futile attempt, not budging an inch.

You tighten your grip on him, eyes rimmed with tears. “‘M not greedy—“

“Aren’t you?” He laughs. Before you can respond he plunges his fingers further, forces them to move faster and faster, your body going limp as it’s overwhelmed with pleasure.

The noises that leave your mouth are filthy, lecherous, whether it’s your breathy moans or the sloppy sounds of your gushing pussy. Logan’s eyes memorize the sight of you fucked out and delirious, taking in every single detail as he mocks you from above. “Not greedy, huh? Should see yourself, here—“

He puts his hand over your mouth, muffling your moans as the sound of his fingers inside your cunt bounces against the walls. “Hear that darling? That’s all you. That’s your greedy little pussy swallowing up my fingers, desperate for more—“

The sound makes your ears burn, your hips rising to meet his brutal pace.

I need Logan to be condescending and mock my moans when he fucks/fingers me. I know he’d be so good at it 🥴🥴🥴

[ssquiriyon]

Happy New Year chat

I couldn't get this out yesterday cause our area atm had no signal so all I had was those two Earthspark episodes I downloaded

So yeah, Happy New Year to everyone!!

[sonicboomrevisited]

A Sonic Boom Revisited Short Story:

"I'll Be Home for Christmas"

Written by @mama-qwerty with editing and inspiration from @multiisketch

Art by @multiisketch

Colors by @star-stages and @multiisketch

NOTE: This story is NON-CANON to the SBR comic itself and is purely for holiday fun! Please Enjoy!

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

Twas the morning before Christmas and all through the lair, not a creature was stirring, not even–

"An eclair!" Cubot said, in an enthusiastic mood.

Orbot protested. "An elcair's not a creature, it's food!"

"Exactly!” said Cubot, hands on his hips. “That's why it ain't stirrin!"

Orbot scoffed. “Oh enough with your quips.”

The stockings were hung by the exhaust port with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be–

"Married!" Cubot shouted, sounding quite proud.

"Santa’s already married, for crying out loud.” Orbot sighed and shook his head in frustration. “Can you please be quiet and allow the narration?”

Quite. Anyway... the robots were nestled and charging in stations, while visions of sugar plums danc’d in their processing units.

"Hey," Cubot said, the word dragging out long. “Those words don’t rhyme, you’re doing it wrong!"

Rhyming is hard, and not something that’s forced. So you’ll deal with my attempts, for better or worst.

The robots went silent, exchanging a look. It always seemed easy when reading the book. They returned to the tinsel hanging duties assigned, when in walked the dastardly Robo-Sonic, his boss close behind.

"I just don't understand, truly at all, why those rodents won’t fight!" said Dr. Eggman, standing tall.

“Because they’re losers who know they won’t win,” Robo-Sonic said, his voice confident, and edged with a grin. “Seriously, Boss, it’s the smartest thing they’ve done. Why would they fight when they know that we’ve won?”

“It’s the principle!” Eggman shouted, his hands clenched in fists. “If they won’t fight, then I won’t . . . won’t . . .”

He threw his hands up. “Ya know what? I’m not doing this rhyming thing. Nope.”

But–

“NO.” Eggman crossed his arms, his lips pulled into a tight line.

How are we gonna tell a Christmas story without that well known rhyming couplet setup?

“Much better, because we won’t be locked into short little oddly worded sentences for the sake of rhyming.”

Ouch.

“Go on,” Eggman said, giving his hand a dismissive flick. “Just let it flow naturally.”

Fine.

“Oh come now, don’t pout.”

I’m not pouting.

“Then go ‘not pout’ somewhere else so we can get on with things.”

“Geez, Boss,” Cubot said, shaking his head. “That’s not very Christmas-y.”

“Quiet down, you imbecile, or I’ll remove your head.”

“That rhymed,” Orbot said with a shrug. “Although you technically rhymed ‘head’ with ‘head’.”

“Nevermind!” Eggman said, moving to his console and flicking some switches. The monitor along the back wall flared to life and scenes from the village dominated the screen. “As I was saying, if those rodents won’t fight me, I won’t get a good workout for my various inventions.”

Robo-Sonic turned to him. “So?”

“So, fighting so-called heroes is the best way for villains to work the kinks out of their dastardly plans and evil robots. It’s the first thing they teach you in villain college.” He turned suddenly, his voice edged with defensive anger. “Which I totally graduated from, thank you very much.”

Robo-Sonic flicked his ocular LEDs toward the ceiling. “Okay, so why won’t they fight? Other than the obvious reason that they’ll lose, I mean.”

Eggman tapped a few places on his control panel and twisted a dial. “I don’t know. But we’ll find out soon enough.

The screen flickered and centered on Meh Burger where Amy, Tails, Knuckles, and Sticks sat at a table.

“Are we still going to your place for Christmas Eve, Amy?” Tails asked. He poked at his burger. “It may be a good way to take our minds off . . . you know.”

“The fact that Sonic’s been turned into a glorified Eggman bot who hates us and wants to pound us into the dirt?” Knuckles asked, his voice low and frustrated. The others looked at him, their expressions a combination of annoyed and hurt. “What? I’m just summing it up in case you forgot.”

“We didn’t.” Tails’ ears flicked backward, and he looked away.

Knuckles seemed to sense he’d really stepped in it, and turned his attention back to his half-eaten burger. He let out a sigh, his shoulders dropping. “Right. Right. Sorry.”

“I don’t know if I should bother this year. It won’t be the same without Sonic,” Amy said, pushing her burger away and resting her crossed arms on the table. “We always baked cookies together.” A little smile curled her lips. “When he wasn’t trying to eat the batter, that is.”

“We’d always make popcorn strands,” Knuckles said, shaking his head with a smile. “That was a lot of fun.”

“Yeah.” Tails pushed his burger away, fiddling with his gloves. “We would trim the tree together. The lights were always my favorite part, and every year we’d fight over who put the star on top.” His ears flicked back. “This year was his turn.”

Silence fell over the group. Sticks looked between the others.

“Well I say we don’t let this get us down!” she said, pounding her fists on the table. “I say we get together and have the best Christmas Eve ever! We’ll show that Eggman and his new little robot henchman that they can’t stifle our spirits!”

She turned directly toward the camera filming them and shook her fist.

“YA HEAR THAT, YOU BIG CLOD! WE AIN’T BENDING!”

In the lair, Eggman let out a little yelp before cutting the feed, the screen going black. “That badger’s pretty astute for someone who thinks her doorknobs are alien spies.”

“Who’s she calling a henchman?” Robo-Sonic said, hands clenching into fists.

Eggman absently rubbed his chin with a hand. “Quiet, you.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Eggman’s brow furrowed slightly as he paced back and forth before the console. “Hmm . . . so the rodents are feeling all sad because their little blue rat is now my number two. That sadness is preventing them from really bringing their A-game during battles with me.”

“Perhaps you could offer to return Robo-Sonic to them for Christmas Eve,” Orbot suggested, hovering closer. “That way they can feel more motivated to fight when next you appear.”

Eggman whirled on him. “Are you insane? You’re suggesting I simply give Robo-Sonic over to those insipid rodents? All because they miss him so much?”

Orbot flinched back, as Robo-Sonic looked on, shaking his head.

“Oh, I know!” Eggman said, holding a finger up. “Maybe I’ll be a gracious arch-nemesis and offer to let Robo-Sonic fraternise with them for Christmas Eve, just to refuel the hope of getting their friend back and reignite that fighting spirit, before dashing their misplaced hopes to bits during my next attack! Ho ho, that is brilliant!”

“Yes, sir, very clever,” Orbot said with a sigh.

“Hey now,” Robo-Sonic said, hands on hips. “Who says I want to go back and ‘fraternise’ with those losers?”

Eggman turned to him, brows furrowed. “You’ll go and you’ll play nice. Because while you’re there you’re going to collect any information you can on weaknesses–other than you, of course–or soft spots I can use to my advantage in future battles.”

Robo-Sonic threw his hands up in exasperation. “But I already know their weaknesses and soft spots! I can tell you that right now!”

Eggman held up a hand. “Upp upp upp! Everyone knows that Christmas is when people show their softer sides and reveal hidden thoughts and desires no one knows the rest of the year. It goes hand in hand with Christmas miracles, holiday spirit and putting differences aside to show that not everyone’s all bad and all that touchy feely stuff.”

The doctor went to his desk, yanked open a drawer, and fished around for a moment before pulling out a crumpled card. He scribbled something inside, stuffed it into an envelope, and stepped over to slap it onto Robo-Sonic’s hands.

“There you are,” he said, patting the robot on the top of his rocket booster. “Off you go. Spread holiday cheer with your ex-friends, and then come back here and dish on the gossip you learn.”

Robo-Sonic heaved the robot equivalent of a sigh, before turning and heading toward the door.

“OH WAIT!”

He turned back to see Eggman digging through another drawer, before pulling something out and rushing over to him. The doctor slapped a gift sticker right above Robo-Sonic’s visor and adjusted a Santa hat on top of his head.

“There!” Eggman said, stepping back and perching his hands on his hips. “Ooh, you look so festive!” He waved in a dismissive manner. “Okay, get outta here. Go be merry and trim the tinsel and ginger the bread or whatever it is you people do during the holidays. Shoo!”

With an electronic groan, Robo-Sonic turned and drudged away.

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

Screams drew Amy from her book, and she hurried out of her house, hammer in hand. The chatter from her communicator indicated the others were on their way to investigate the trouble, too.

She hoped it wasn’t Eggman. While she never liked fighting Eggman in the past, at least it had been a little fun. Now it was painful. Seeing what the man had done to Sonic hurt her heart. And she couldn’t bring herself to hurt him, even if he was a robot now, and had no qualms on hurting them.

And, based on how lackluster the fights were when Eggman did attack, the others felt the same way.

As she neared the center of the village–seriously, everything always seemed to happen right in the middle of town–she found the chaos somewhat comforting. It was familiar and a good fight with the Lightning Bolt Society, or Barker, or even Shadow may help dissipate some of the anxiety that had twisted her stomach since Sonic changed.

When the fleeing villagers scattered, she skidded to a halt.

Sonic was standing in the middle of the town, arms crossed, and wearing a . . . Santa hat?

A quick flick of her eyes caught no sign of Eggman himself or any other attacking robots. Sonic–Robo-Sonic, she reminded herself–stood with his back to her, tapping his foot in that familiar impatient way that always made him look like he was waiting for a bus that was fifteen minutes late.

“Amy!”

Knuckles’ voice called out. Both she and Robo-Sonic turned to see him rushing over to her. He stopped a step in front of her, taking up a defensive stance, fists at the ready.

“Where’s Eggman?” the echidna asked, his brow furrowed and voice uncharacteristically serious. He didn’t like fighting Son–ROBO-Sonic any more than Amy did, and preferred to head straight for the doctor when attacks happened.

The quicker they took out the doc, the quicker he retreated and took the robot version of their friend with him.

“I don’t know,” she said, gripping her hammer tightly. “All I see is him.”

Tails and Sticks arrived soon after, each wearing similar expressions of confusion.

“This isn’t like Eggman,” Tails said, holding his wrench before him like a staff. “He doesn’t usually send robots without being there himself to gloat and claim early victories.”

“Finally,” Robo-Sonic said, rolling his head back in a familiar expression of exasperation. “You’re all here. Cripes, take a little longer, why don’tcha. It’s not like I can die of old age or anything.”

“What do you want?” Knuckles all but growled, baring his fangs. “It’s Christmas Eve. Can’t you take the holidays off from being a jerk?”

Robo-Sonic mostly ignored him and stalked forward. Knuckles threw an arm out, keeping Amy back. When the robot hedgehog stopped before them, he reached into his metal quills and pulled out an envelope. He thrust it forward, toward Amy, and Knuckles tensed.

Everything seemed to stop in that moment. Amy flicked her eyes from Robo-Sonic’s ocular visor, to the little gift sticker attached to his forehead, right below the brim of the Santa hat. Instead of a “To” and “From” note, it bore Eggman’s logo, as if he’d branded the robot before sending him to the village.

Her eyes then dropped to the envelope in his hand. When she made no move to reach for it, Robo-Sonic uttered what sounded like a sigh.

“Just take it, Ames.”

She flinched at the familiar nickname coming from a digital voice box. After a moment, she gently pushed Knuckles’ arm to the side, and plucked the envelope from Robo-Sonic’s hand. Keeping her eyes on the robotic hedgehog, she tore it open, before looking down as she pulled a battered card from the paper.

The front showed an image of Eggman dressed in a Santa suit, Cubot and Orbot beside him with little antlers on their heads. He had a large sack thrown over his shoulder. Above him read “Evil Season’s Greetings!”

She rolled her eyes.

Inside, she found a handwritten note, undoubtedly from Eggman himself.

"Dear Rodents, 

Since you insist on being frustratingly avoidant when fighting my newest bestie Robo-Sonic, I have deemed it acceptable to allow him to be returned to you for 24 hours. Make it count and bring your A-Game to the next fight! Happy Holidays! 

Love, Dr. Eggman."

Amy reread the note three times, before flicking her eyes back up to Robo-Sonic. He stood with his arms crossed and he, and Knuckles who also stood with his arms crossed, seemed to be having a glaring contest.

“So, wait,” she said, drawing their attention. “You’re here to spend Christmas Eve with us?”

Robo-Sonic heaved an electronic sigh. “Apparently.”

Amy exchanged a look with Tails.

“You don’t actually expect us to believe this, do you?” the fox said, hands on hips. “Like we’re supposed to just throw our arms open and pretend like everything’s normal?”

“I think he’s here to spy on us,” Sticks said, eyes narrowed and flicking back and forth. “He’s here to discover our deepest secrets, our hidden hopes and dreams!”

“Not my eggnog recipe!” Knuckles cried, hands to the side of his head.

“Knuckles, that’s just milk and eggs, mostly,” Amy said with a sigh.

He cast her a raised eyebrow. “Eggs?”

“Nevermind.”

“Look,” Robo-Sonic said, holding his hands up. “As stimulating as this conversation is, I don’t wanna be here any more than you want me here. But the boss said you get me for 24 hours and the clock’s ticking, so, whatever you wanna do with that time is on your head. If you want to just stand here and argue about it, be my guest.”

The group exchanged looks again. Amy gave him a tight little smile.

“‘Scuse us for a minute.”

She motioned for the others to follow her a few feet away, and lowered into a huddle.

“This is a trick,” Knuckles said, looking over his shoulder toward Robo-Sonic. “No way he’s not here for evil reasons.”

“I hate to admit it, but I agree,” Tails said, shaking his head. “Sonic’s not our friend anymore. As much as I want to believe he’s here because he wants to be, I think this is some kind of trap.”

“Of course it’s a trap!” Sticks said, gripping her boomerang tightly. “It’s obvious he’s here to steal our Christmas spirit, and maybe even all our decorations and presents and even our last can of Who Hash!”

Tails gave her a raised eyebrow. “Our what?”

“Nothin’.” Sticks narrowed her eyes, looking around suspiciously. “I’ve said too much.”

“Okay, look,” Amy said, drawing their attention. “I don’t think he’s here of his own free will either. But maybe we can use this to our advantage. If we do things we used to do with Sonic on past Christmases, maybe he’ll remember who he really is and come back to us!”

Tails shot a look over at Robo-Sonic, who was giving the evil eye . . . well, evil LED to any villagers who came too near. “I dunno, Amy . . .”

“C’mon Tails, we have to try.”

The others looked at her before exchanging a glance between themselves. Finally, they turned back and nodded. Although, they didn’t look very happy or sure about it.

She didn’t care. If there was a chance to get her . . . their Sonic back, she’d take it. As slim as it was.

She nodded back, before standing upright and moving toward the robot hedgehog once again. Knuckles was right next to her. She could feel how tense he was.

“Okay, Son–I mean, Robo-Sonic,” she said, stopping with her hands on her hips. “If you’re gonna be here, there are going to be a few rules.” She counted off on her fingers. “Rule number one, no fighting. Rule number two, no insulting us. Rule number three, you have to actually participate and not simply sit and sulk the whole time.”

His ocular LEDs narrowed for a moment. “And if I refuse these stupid rules?”

Amy shrugged. “Then we’ll just send you back to Eggman’s. You’ll have failed your mission and ruined Christmas for your new ‘boss’.”

He stood and glared at her for a long moment, before rolling his head to the side. “Fine.”

A smile curled her lips. “Good.” She clapped her hands together, giving a little squeal of excitement. “Oh, this will be fun!”

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

It was not, in fact, ‘fun’.

It had been hours. Hours of trying to have a normal Christmas Eve.

They’d all gathered at Amy’s house, as they did every year. She hadn’t been in a very festive mood after everything that had happened with Sonic, so the house wasn’t as decorated as she normally did. Knuckles and Sticks had helped pull her decorations out of storage, working to create a more appropriate holiday atmosphere, as Tails set about trimming the tree.

Supper was awkward. She’d made everyone’s favorite. Even the sweet potato chili dogs Sonic liked. But, being a robot now, he couldn’t eat them.

Okay, no problem, she could work around that.

But he spent the entire time glaring at Knuckles, who glared right back. Amy had shot the echidna a warning glance, and he’d sheepishly turned his eyes away, but the mood had been set.

After supper, she cleaned up the dishes as Tails helped Knuckles make popcorn for this year’s garlands. With a little coaxing, Amy had encouraged Knuckles to try and follow his tradition with Robo-Sonic.

It didn’t go well.

Robo-Sonic couldn’t string the popcorn before his metal fingers crushed the kernels. After five minutes, the floor around him was littered with broken bits of popcorn. Knuckles, for his part, tried to extend a hand of friendship, so to speak, citing that he knew what it was like to deal with more strength than you need most of the time. He tried to help Robo-Sonic pull it back so he could work with the popcorn without crushing it.

Things only went further south when Robo-Sonic revealed, in a fit of frustration stemming from the continued crunching of the kernels, that he never liked making the garlands–a waste of perfectly good popcorn, he claimed–and only did it so Knuckles wouldn’t look like an idiot doing it by himself.

The echidna gasped, eyes wide, before running from the room in tears. “Not cool, Robo-Sonic!”

Sticks fared a little better. She was always suspicious of wrapped presents–”You don’t know what’s inside! It’s not safe!”--so Robo-Sonic used his scanners to examine every one. He announced, loudly, what each box contained. This soothed the badger’s suspicions, until he announced what the gifts she’d brought held.

“Those boxes were supposed to be lead lined! X-ray proof! So’s the aliens couldn’t see what I got and report my preferences and kindness to their leaders, taking me hostage when they come to rule!”

And off she went, presumably to find whomever had sold her the supposedly impervious boxes, and deal some angry feral badger damage to them.

Tails was hit worst. He had brought the tree decorations, and hoped to have his and Sonic’s tradition at least somewhat salvaged. It started okay, but when it was time to put the lights up, Robo-Sonic took them from the fox and wrapped them around the tree in three seconds flat.

“Oh,” Tails said, ears flicking back. “We usually do that together.”

Robo-Sonic shrugged. “It’s not exactly a two-man job, kid. It’s done, now.”

“Right.” Tails reached across himself to tightly grip his arm. “G-good job.”

The fox quietly left soon after.

That left Amy.

She tried. She really did.

She pulled out the ingredients for the cookies she and Sonic baked every year. But there was no laughter as they mixed the ingredients together. No trying to keep him from dipping his fingers into the batter. No slapping his hands away as she tried to roll out the dough.

Robo-Sonic was focused and efficient. The cookies went in without issue.

“You’re really not him anymore, are you?” she asked, her voice soft.

He turned to her, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m better.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “No. No you’re not.”

Amy turned, hoping to be out of the house before the first tears fell.

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

Robo-Sonic watched her leave, just like all the others had left.

He didn’t care. The less he had to deal with these losers, the better. He was only here because Eggman practically ordered him to be. He wasn’t enjoying this. He didn’t care about these stupid traditions and little holiday scenes the others insisted on.

He should leave. They all left, so apparently they didn’t care if he was here or not. He should just go back to Eggman’s lair, tell him the mission was a failure because these rodents couldn’t accept that he wasn’t the weak loser they remembered. They’d have a good laugh at the overly sentimental nature of these fools and that would be that.

He took a few steps toward the door, intending to do just that.

Then he stopped.

Turned and watched the oven timer tick down.

Less than ten minutes before the cookies were done. There was no one else in the house. He had no idea when they’d be back.

If he left and they didn’t return for a long time after, the cookies would burn.

The house might burn.

If these losers wouldn’t give him a decent fight because they were ‘sad’ about his change (his improvement), then they certainly wouldn’t be up for any challenging battles should Amy’s house burn down on Christmas Eve.

He could wait ten minutes.

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

“This is worse than when we thought he was gone,” Tails said, curling his namesakes around himself. He let out a long sigh. “This feels like a cruel joke.”

The group had met up near Sonic’s old shack. Knuckles stood with his back to the porch post, arms crossed. Tails sat on the front steps, staring out into the ocean as the waves licked the beach below. Sticks sat on the ground nearby, legs crossed beneath her, an angry pout on her face.

And Amy stood a little apart from them, staring into Sonic’s shack. The moon was full tonight, and lit the area enough to see.

The shack stood dark and empty, like it had since Sonic was changed.

“I’m sorry guys,” she said, her voice soft. “I thought . . . I thought if he was in a familiar place, if he was surrounded by his friends, doing things he loved, then he’d remember.”

“It was a nice try, Ames,” Knuckles said, rubbing a hand over his face. “But he’s not him anymore.”

She pulled her lips tight. “No. I guess he’s not.”

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

Popcorn was strewn all over the floor. Some were crunched from being stepped on, but most broken because of his metal fingers.

He looked down at his fingers now.

Sharp and cold. He couldn’t really feel anything now. Oh sure, there were pressure points on the outside plating, giving him the approximate sensation of ‘touch’. But he couldn’t feel.

The fingers curled into a fist.

Nevermind.

That wasn’t important. He was better. Stronger.

His LEDs flicked back down to the floor.

It wouldn’t be fair to leave Amy to clean up this mess, and he knew Knuckles likely wouldn’t help. Seemed a waste to throw out all that popcorn, though.

He checked his internal clock. Seven more minutes until the cookies were done.

He had time.

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

“He didn’t even try,” Amy said, moving to sit next to Tails. She pulled her legs up and hugged her knees. “He said he would try and he didn’t.”

“Actually,” Tails said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. “He said he wouldn’t fight, insult us, or sulk. That’s not really the same thing as trying.”

“But he promised he’d participate!” she said, and even to her own ears it sounded ridiculous. “He . . . he promised.”

“I guess he technically did participate,” Knuckles said with a shrug. “He was just being an irritable and impatient jerk about it.”

“On the bright side,” Sticks said, tilting her head to the side. “He did reveal a horrible injustice done to me by those shysters who sold me those boxes. I made sure they wouldn’t cheat anyone else like that!”

The others sighed, the mood not exactly feeling any lighter.

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

Robo-Sonic stood before the tree. The popcorn was all cleaned up, and now he stood with his arms crossed, staring at the wrapped presents strewn about, where Sticks had let them drop as he’d examined each one.

With a soft electronic sigh, he bent to gather them, stacking them neatly.

He picked up the final two, which were identically shaped, only with different wrapping. One was addressed to Tails, the other to him.

Well, to the weaker version of him, anyway.

He’d scanned them before, when Sticks had requested, and discovered they held matching scarves. Yellow for him, blue for Tails.

Probably hand crocheted by Amy herself. She liked to do that kind of thing.

He didn’t know why she bothered. That took a lot of time; it was easier to simply buy a scarf. They weren’t that expensive, really.

He stared at the boxes for a long moment, before placing them on the stack.

Glancing up, he flicked his LEDs over the tree at the lights he’d strung earlier.

They bothered him.

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

“I just . . .” Amy said, burying her face in her hands. “I hoped there was something left of him. Something that showed our Sonic was still in there.”

Silence answered her. It hung heavy before Tails gave a little sigh, reaching over to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I did too, Amy. I really did. He’s . . . he was my best friend. The idea that he’s gone is . . . well, it’s hard to accept.”

She nodded. “It’s so strange. He seems so much like the Sonic we remember, but . . . not.” She sighed, a harsh, frustrated sound. “I wish Eggman hadn’t sent him here. It’s making everything worse.”

Tails’ hand gripped her a little tighter. Knuckles moved to sit on her other side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“We could pay Eggman a visit and deck his halls, if that would make you feel better,” he said, a little smile curling one side of his mouth. “Want me to leave a knuckle sandwich in his stocking?”

Amy gave a soft giggle, shaking her head. “As tempting as that is, I don’t want to ruin anything any more than it already is. It’s bad enough that–” She gasped, her eyes going wide. “THE COOKIES! I completely forgot about them!”

She shot to her feet and ran toward her house with the others close behind.

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

“Oh no oh no oh no!” Amy nearly whined as she burst into her kitchen. She expected a house full of black smoke, possibly even flames shooting from her oven, but she stopped dead when there was no oppressive heat of an uncontrolled fire, no choking smoke threatening to smother her. “What?”

The others screeched to a halt behind her, piling up and nearly knocking her over.

The scene that met them was one she would not have believed just fifteen minutes ago.

Robo-Sonic was pulling the cookie sheets from the oven. He turned and placed them on towels he’d set out to protect her counters, before looking up and finding himself with company.

“Well look who decided to finally show back up,” he said, flicking the oven off and turning to plant his hands on his hips. “Figures you guys would all take off and leave me to do all the clean up.”

Silence answered him as the others stared. Amy’s gaze fell to the cookies currently cooling on her counter. “You . . . you stayed to take them out?”

He shrugged. “Boss said I had to stay, so I stayed. I’m used to picking up the slack for you los–” He caught himself. He’d promised not to insult them. “You left. The cookies were done. I pulled ‘em out. The end.”

Amy stared. This . . . this wasn’t what she expected.

“Hey,” Knuckles said, pointing to the other counter. “What are those?”

All eyes turned to a plate stacked with popcorn balls. Robo-Sonic shrugged as he pulled them over to place on the center island counter behind the cooling cookies.

“Ames would have had a fit if I threw away perfectly good popcorn,” he said, stepping back to lean against the counter. “So I made those.”

“Huh, that’s weird.” Knuckles stepped forward to pick up one of the popcorn balls. “How did you get the string to do that?” He took a bite, his eyes lighting up. “Hey! That’s really good! And no string to get stuck in my teeth!”

Robo-Sonic shrugged again. “Amy always has a bag of marshmallows hidden away. Thinks I don’t know about it. She uses them to sweeten her coffee. Which I always thought was gross, but whatever. Figured I’d use ‘em to make something better than those stupid garlands.”

Amy blinked. Sonic would regularly raid her cabinets, so it wasn’t a surprise he knew about her secret mallow stash, but the way he was talking . . . the things he did while they were gone . . .

This was absolutely not what she expected.

“Hey, what happened to the tree?” Tails’ voice cut through her musings. They looked into the living room where the tree stood dark. “Where are the lights?”

“Took ‘em off.” Robo-Sonic’s voice sounded almost bored, like there was an implied shrug even if his shoulders didn’t move. “They were bugging me. Not strung right. Some spots had the same colored lights all bunched up. I’m not good with that kinda detail stuff.”

More silence, and Amy dared to hope. Dared to think that her Sonic, their Sonic, really was still in there.

“Do you . . .” Tails started, his voice small and shaky. “Do you want to try again? I can make sure the colors are adequately distributed this time.”

Robo-Sonic stood still for a moment, as though contemplating. Amy expected a sharp retort. An annoyed “Fine” or “Whatever”.

But instead, the robot offered a simple, “Sure.”

A little smile curled her lips.

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

Just before midnight.

Wrapping paper was strewn about, tossed carelessly as the annual gift exchange had taken place. The gang sat on the floor before the tree–now properly trimmed and lit, thanks to Tails’ careful calculations of the optimal placement of the various colored lights–with the star perched atop. Robo-Sonic had placed it there, in keeping with his and Tails’ tradition.

Now soft snores floated over the living room. Sticks, Knuckles, and Tails were fast asleep, their gifts piled nearby, while Amy and Robo-Sonic sat a little further away, their backs against the couch.

Amy wanted to break the silence. Needed to break it. The longer they sat like that, the longer it went without at least trying to get through to him, the more she’d beat herself up over it later.

This was the perfect chance to try and bring him around. To try and reach the Sonic she knew was still in there.

After another moment of hesitation, she cleared her throat.

“I suppose I need to send a thank you note to Eggman,” she said, her voice soft. “For letting you come tonight.”

He didn’t respond for a moment. “You always were a stickler for manners.”

She swallowed, turning her head away slightly. The familiarity he spoke with. He knew her. As much as she tried to convince herself that he wasn’t any different from Metal Sonic, that he was just some robot who’d copied Sonic’s personality . . . she couldn’t fully believe that.

She spared another glance in his direction. The yellow scarf she’d crocheted him was fastened around his neck. When he and Tails had opened those gifts he’d hesitated before putting it on, but finally tied it in place, much to Tails’ delight. Sonic never looked right without that trademark scarf around his neck.

The color contrasted with the red Santa hat still perched on his head. Her eyes flicked back to that gift label above his visor. Eggman’s logo seemed to glare at her, a stark reminder that he was here on borrowed time. 

Another silent moment passed, and she turned away again. When she spoke, her voice was quieter. Hardly above a whisper.

“Stay.”

“No.”

The response was immediate. He didn’t even consider it.

“Why?” She turned back to him sharply, her tone pleading. “Why do you hate us so much?”

He turned his head away from her for a moment, before turning back. “Because you’re weak.”

“We’re stronger together.” She turned to him more fully and tried to pull back the pleading tone. “We were always stronger with you.”

“I can’t carry the whole team, Ames,” he said, his tone hard. “I can’t do what needs done if I’m worrying about the rest of you.”

“What are you talking about?” Amy said, and hated how pathetic her voice sounded even to her own ears. “Doing what needs done? What needs done is keeping Eggman from ruining everything, from destroying everything we love. We did that! And now you’re helping him. I just . . . I don’t understand.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead looking over where the others slept. Amy watched him for a few moments, before turning away when she decided he likely wasn’t going to answer.

“Sometimes protection isn’t just about bashing some bots and calling it a day,” he said, his voice softer. “Sometimes you have to make sacrifices to focus on the bigger picture.”

She stared at him, her brows furrowed. “What’s the bigger picture?”

He went quiet again, and this time it felt more final. Like whatever information she was going to get out of him had been said.

The two sat there in silence for a long time. Finally, Amy spoke, her voice a whisper.

“Merry Christmas, Sonic.”

He didn’t respond.

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

Time ticked on. Robo-Sonic watched the others sleep. He didn’t need to sleep anymore, although he sometimes went into standby mode. Not a ‘sleep’ in the traditional sense, but something that let him kind of ‘drift’.

Beside him, Amy’s breathing evened out, changing to a deeper, slower rhythm. He turned and found her head tilted against the couch, eyes closed, and mouth slightly open.

He watched her for a long moment.

Moving before he even knew he was, Robo-Sonic stood and gently lifted her, placing her on the couch and positioning a pillow beneath her head. She stirred slightly, and he froze, before she settled back into a comfortable position, her breathing deepening.

Pulling the afghan from the back of the couch, he draped it over her, tucking her in.

“Merry Christmas, Ames.”

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

Morning.

The sun filtered in through the windows, pulling Amy from her sleep. She sat up and stretched, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she got her bearings. It took a moment before the events of last night caught up with her, and she looked around, catching no sign of Robo-Sonic.

He must have gone back to Eggman’s.

With a sigh, she flipped the afghan back, preparing to head to the kitchen to start breakfast before the others woke. That’s when her eyes landed on a small stack of gifts on the coffee table, still unopened.

Her brow furrowed. That was odd. She could have sworn they’d opened all the presents last night.

Moving closer, she immediately recognized the sloppy, somewhat hurried wrapping style of one Sonic the Hedgehog.

She distinctly remembered helping Sonic pick out gifts months ago, in an attempt to keep him from being caught empty-handed come Christmas Eve. (Something that had happened on more than one occasion.) He must have wrapped them to have them done and ready back then.

But how . . .

Her eyes went wide.

Robo-Sonic must have gone back to Sonic’s shack and brought them here after she’d fallen asleep.

A little smile curled her lips. Her heart felt warmer than it had in months.

She had hope again.

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

“Ah, the blue rat bot returns!” Eggman said. He turned from the breakfast table, still dressed in his long underwear. “How went the whole ‘give your ex-friends false hope so they’ll fight me with more gusto’ plan?”

Robo-Sonic shrugged. “Fine.”

Eggman frowned. “Fine? That’s it? Just ‘fine’?”

Another shrug from the bot. “Yeah? Not sure what you want me to say.”

“Well, you could say that they spent the night bemoaning my successful plan to turn you into a robot; or that they tried to convince you to be some kind of double agent to get the goods on me in secret; or that they tried to appeal to your non-existent sense of loyalty to them in combination with the ‘spirit of Christmas’ to cast off your allegiance to me and rejoin them in their constant, infuriating destruction of every bot I painstakingly create!”

Robo-Sonic waved a hand. “Yeah, sure, okay.”

Eggman slammed his fists on the table, sending the silverware clattering. “Oh, you are just as infuriating now as you were when you were flesh and fur! I thought you were going to bring back some gossip or embarrassing tales of what happened!”

“What can I tell ya, Boss,” the robot said as he began to wander off. “Just a boring Christmas Eve. Same old, same old. Just like all the others.”

Eggman scowled. “Then what’s with the scarf?”

Robo-Sonic froze. The scarf. He’d forgotten he had it on. “What about it?”

The doctor smirked. “Seems a little sentimental, don’t you think? A lovingly hand knitted scarf from your little girlfriend.”

Robo-Sonic turned sharply, red LEDs narrowed. “She’s not my girlfriend, and it’s crocheted.”

Eggman scoffed. “My, my. Aren’t we touchy?”

The robot hedgehog uttered a little growl, before stalking toward the doctor. He yanked the scarf off his neck and slapped it on the table. “Whatever. I don’t need it.”

Eggman furrowed his brow. “Are you sure nothing happened back there?”

Robo-Sonic let out a soft scoff as he turned and walked away. “Nothing worth reporting.”

Eggman watched him go with a frown.

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

Robo-Sonic walked down a long hallway, the walls a polished steel here. He pushed the thoughts of last night away.

It was just a mission. He was sent there to spy. To gather intel. To give false hope so those losers would fight harder when he and Eggman attacked next.

Because if they fought harder, they got stronger. They needed to be stronger.

He only acted the way he did last night to foster that sense of hope. That he was still the Sonic they remembered.

That was the only reason.

His hand curled into a fist.

The only reason.

But that scarf . . .

A voice in the back of his mind whispered. Said things he knew weren’t true. Tried to make him soft. Make him weak.

He stopped and turned to face one of the walls. They were polished to a near mirror finish. He stared at his reflection. The gift label was still stuck to his forehead and that stupid Santa hat still perched on his metal quills.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

He almost saw the hedgehog he once was.

With a growl, he yanked the hat off and tossed it to the ground, before tearing the sticker from above his visor. It shredded, leaving behind sticky paper strips. Figures Eggman would have the cheapest, most residue-y stickers on hand.

Last night had been a mistake. He shouldn’t have gone.

Uttering a growl that bordered on a yell, Robo-Sonic drew his fist back and punched the wall, leaving a deep dent in the metal at the impact.

“No more weakness. You had your chance. You failed. Now it’s my turn.”

Robo-Sonic withdrew his hand from the crumpled metal, and continued along his way.

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

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Eggman said after Robo-Sonic had walked away. He slumped against the table with his chin in his hand.

Don’t pout.

“I’m not pouting!”

Seems a good place to end things, doncha think?

Eggman let out a frustrated grunt. “You wanna do the thing, don’t you?”

Wouldn’t be a Christmas story without it.

A long sigh. “Fine.”

And with Eggman pouting from not getting his way, Happy Christmas to all and to all a good day.

“I’m not pouting!”

Hush.

Merry Christmas, Season’s Greetings, and Happy Holidays to all!

[tagetto]

he stinks of diesel fumes, solder flux & cigarette smoke which has caked itself over the years into the fan blades of a used prebuilt msi gaming PC bought from ebay dot com core 2 duo high performance rtx 2.5 tdi 1.6 litre engine top speed of 48.3mph.

[automatonknight]

id: a photo of a patch drawn in black ink on a white cloth. it shows a simple, humanoid robot playing an electric guitar next to two speakers. the robot is grinning, one of its legs is bent and the other is propped up on one of the speakers. its wearing sunglasses, headphones and black boots end id

[witchofthesouls]

I like thinking about humans-into-Cybertronians because of the weird, alien fuckery along with ex-humans making connections to certain things because it's the closest approximation they have.

Imagine if 'running on fumes' is a literal statement among Cybertronians. As their tanks run near empty, there's a petroleum-like taste that lingers in their sinuses and, if left long enough, cycles out of their vents. That's why Cybertronians typically don't like hanging around gas stations because it's a really stark reminder of long-term starvation. Meanwhile, you got an ex-human going like, "Man, I'm starting to taste gas, so I need gas. Huh, y'all have built-in reminders to feed yourself outside of hunger pains? That's neat."

As well as the ex-humans misdiagnosing themselves. Let's take Cybertronian carriage. Humans are used to a pregnancy that completes its course in a designated organ (aka womb), so finding out a mecha had straight up knocked them up that bypassed the initial spark-to-spark teether formation wouldn't freak them out in the ways that a lot of Cybertronians would be really concerned about. Especially the medics and said partner(s).

Ex-human crying over the sonogram because they got told it's a very high-risk pregnancy and all they see is the coming baby is very deformed since it's only a ball within a ball of green soup and silver tendrils. Partner is highly confused yet attempts comforting in varying levels of success.

Cybertronian medic needs to explain that the sparklet is healthy, but ex-human really needs to watch themselves because the entire process will be done within the gestational chamber and goes deep into explaining the complications that can happen.

Partner is absolutely riveted by all the gravity of the matter since the strain of having a full-carriage that initialized in the chamber can put the carrier in danger as there can be coding conflicting with priorities that rends said carrier unconscious or wrecks health complications, especially since there's a high-chance of the newspark not fully detaching from their carrier's spark as the dropping process ensures.

Ex-human that comes from a species where a pregnancy is like getting into a moderate crash, so damage varies each time is happy that they haven't fucked up badly yet and can plan a baby shower. "By the way, when's the due date?"

Medic: "Hard to say with the carriage combined, but it's more in the primary initialization stage. The sparklet's still has a visible, if a bit thin, teether to your spark, and a solid mass hasn't formed yet."

Ex-human: "Okay, so how long?"Medic says incomprehensible length of time for an Earth child and how it can vary.

*Confused ex-human noises over the several human lifetimes is the equivalent of a span to a Cybertronian carriage. And how multiple factors can impact the timeframe.*

*Confused Medic noises out of sheer concern over ex-human's family history, especially over the fact they have extremely and highly dangerously short carriages.*

*Confused partner noises on why their love wants to plan a bathtime for the newspark at this moment, and wonders if ex-human knows that water and infant Cybertronians do not mix.*

Or, another thing. What if the dropping process where the sparklet detaches from the carrier's spark to descend into the gestational chamber below to build its frame has very 'classic'** heart symptoms in a human body?

(** Quick heads up, much of human biology and modern medical understanding derives from male biology. Unfortunately, women usually see atypical symptoms that are more subtle, moderate rather than severe pain/discomfort, or pain in other other locations rather than the chest.)

Ex-human has sudden, excruciatingly chest pain, insides literally quivering and shifting in sync with the bursts. Meanwhile, everyone around them is calm, trying to soothe them, and they think they're honestly dying so fast because there's no rush to the nearby hospital, and everyone is pushing comfort-it's okay-we got you at them.

[robo-writing]

Cowboy!Logan who insists on teaching his pretty girl how to ride a horse for the first time, beckoning her over to the massive stallion with a wave of his hand.

Cowboy!Logan who insists on saddling up behind you so it’s easier to teach, letting the full width of him nearly encompass you, his body heating warming you up with each passing second.

Cowboy!Logan who rests his large hands on your thighs, thumbs rubbing in soothing circles as he teaches you the ins and outs of being a good rider.

Cowboy!Logan whose voice sounds like liquid gold in your ear, the praise setting more than just your body alight. His lips graze against the side of your head as he speaks, burying his nose to inhale your scent as he whispers.

“There we go, just like that. You’re a natural sweetheart.”

Cowboy!Logan who insists on guiding your hips to the correct rhythm, every rise and fall masterfully commanded with a strong grip. It helps, but you can’t help but feel your thighs clench when you realize just how easily he maneuvers you.

Cowboy!Logan who grins when you’re not looking, fully aware of how desperate you’re getting because he can fucking smell how wet you are.

Cowboy!Logan who gets off on knowing that you’re so easily riled up, knowing that if he wanted to he could pull you off this horse right now, fuck you in the grass until you cried his name, and you’d let him.

Cowboy!Logan who climbs off the horse, hard-on pressed into his tight jeans, so he can look up and see the half-dazed look on your face.

And to think he hasn’t even touched you properly.

“Think you can ride without me?” He asks, knowing good and goddamn well he’s going to stroke himself raw to the image of you the moment he’s alone.

You nod, and he doesn’t miss how you adjust yourself under his gaze. “Y-Yeah, I think I got it now.”

“Atta girl.”

[robo-drake09]

At the night of the ball, he was, undoubtedly, enchanted.

Context/mini story under the cut:

So, I had this idea thanks to a friend for a Sholt au with the Princess Shelly and Gunslinger Colt Skins. Ima put in point form from here on out-

The notorious Queen Pam held a ball, just one month prior to the seige led by Shelly. This was before she caught wind of any uprising in her kingdom. She held this grand event to boast her treasures.

Princess Shelly, soon planning to attack the Castle, attends the all to scout out the layout. It doesn't hurt to be prepared.

Attending the same ball is a well-known gunslinger, which catches a glance at the princess. He doesn't know who she is, yet he can't help but stare from across the ballroom...

Taking a chance, he walks around and manages to keep up small conversations with her through the night, perhaps sharing a lucky dance.

She, on the other hand, played along and humoured his quick flirts he slides. (Though the gunslinger was quite charming) They pass through the night talking, conveniently walking along the Castle grounds (as she takes mental notes of the area.)

Maybe small conversations will pop up with the Queen's rule...Shelly may say certain things, unsure if he'd pick up on them. She knows he isn't necessarily on the Queen's side, but she won't go admitting her plans to a guy she just met tonight.

By the end of the night, Shelly leaves before she draws any more attention to herself. They bid farewell, with perhaps a playful wink. Who knows if the gunslinger will ever see her again.

Little did he expect to see into her again on wanted posters after raiding the Queen's Castle.

Tbh I have no idea how this would work or if it's even canon to like the whole story that was released in season 7? I think it's more of an AU but I may tweak it to fit the "canon" story. 🤷‍♀️

I do love sholt so much, it's great to draw them again 💜❤️

[valentronic]

Waking the monster

Chapter 3 - "Out come the knives"

In which Will and Mike both discover something unnerving.. and Henry remains in the dark.

Fredbear’s Family Diner. The place where it all fell apart. How could a place so lively hold such tragedy?

William Afton walked through the closed off diner, past the tables with festive tablecloths, past the bloodstains on the stage that wouldn’t come out no matter how hard he scrubbed it. He remembered when this place was alive, children running around happily, gazing up at Bonnie and Fredbear with wonder in their tiny eyes. That all seemed like decades ago now, even if it had only been months. 

This used to be a place of joy. 

What was it now?

He walked through the door to the back rooms, the happy, cheery atmosphere falling way to the dark corridors, the buzz of fluorescent lights overhead. It was almost like walking between worlds. The bright outer shell of an animatronic, and the cruel machinery underneath. 

Will was absently scratching at the scars on his neck, despite being told not to. It itched horribly, even with the stitches removed. He ignored the way the scabs burst. He ignored the sticky blackness staining the collar of his shirt. It didn’t matter. 

He opened the door to the workshop. 

Something wasn’t right. 

Fredbear was gone.

“Why…”  It was an overwhelming feeling of dread. Dread and nothing more. He really was gone this time, wasn’t he. 

Henry had been here last. 

Of course, of course he wouldn’t be content to take him away once, but again, right after Will finally had him back. It was like a taunt, wasn’t it? Dangle hope in front of his face, only to rip it away before he can reach out and take it. 

His fingernails dug into the flesh of his arms, tearing away at the scabbed over scarring, but it just didn’t matter. 

He’s gone. 

“At least you’re still here buddy, isn’t that right?” Will picked up the head of his springlock suit, surprised to find that Henry had cleaned most of the blood from the internal machinery, even if the yellow fur was stained red around the seams. 

“How cruel, he took your partner away from you, didn’t he? I'm so sorry, Bonnie. We’re gonna make this right, aren’t we?” He lightly moved the head up and down, so it looked as if the animatronic was nodding. 

“That’s what I thought!” 

—

“Hey da-” Micheal paused in the doorway to the kitchen, frozen in place at the sight of the golden head on his father’s shoulders, long rabbit ears sticking up in the air. “...d..?”

“Hmm?” Will turned around to look at him, holding a kitchen knife in his hand, the ears flopped along with his movements, but Micheal could see familiar silver eyes through the mask. 

“...What are you… doing..?”

“Just making Lizzie a sandwich, do you want one?” Sure enough, he had all the proper sandwich ingredients laid out, the sandwich cut neatly into triangles, just how Elizabeth liked it. 

“N-no, I’m good.” Mike quickly turned away, walking back to his room. 

“Alright then, have fun fending for yourself.” He laughed. 

Mike looked back over his shoulder at the laughing rabbit, resolving not to let this one slide. “So… What’s with the bunny mask..?”

“What was that?” He tilts his head, finally putting the knife down on the counter. 

“..Nothing.” 

—

“So! What do you think?” 

“I like the ideas you have here, with the new bandmates, but maybe we should change the colors, instead of them all being gold?” Henry looked over the designs Will had drawn out, pleased with what was there. The chicken and fox would be great additions to the band. 

At least he hadn’t tried to use springlock suits again. 

“Hmm.. You’re right! Oooh, we could make Bonnie purple!” 

“Purple? Why purple?” 

“Well it’s my favorite color, obviously.” Will laughed. 

“Fair enough. Freddy could be a brown bear, and Chica could have yellow feathers…” 

He nods. “And then Foxy could be red, it’s Micheal’s favorite color.” 

“Perfect.” Henry smiles, it felt like forever since he got to actually make something with Will. He missed it. 

“Now we just have to put them together- and I could see us reopening in just another year! New and improved!” Will was smiling, in a genuine way this time, Henry hadn’t seen that smile since before…

“Hey, Will, here’s a bit of an odd request-” 

“Hmm?” 

Henry took a photograph out of his pocket, showing it to Will. It was a picture of Charlie, holding in her arms a small stuffed toy, like a Raggedy Ann doll painted to resemble a mime. “It’d mean a lot to her if we could maybe create something that looked like that doll. I’m not sure if it's even possible, but I want to try.” 

William thought to himself for a moment, considering how to make an animatronic with such a thin frame, and on a more humanoid base, too.. “What if it was suspended from the ceiling by wires attached to its limbs, like a marionette?” 

“That might just work..” 

“No way to tell but to test it, right?” 

“Right.” He looked up at Will with a smile, though his face fell at the sight of the grisly scars around his neck. “...How are you feeling?” 

“Hmm? Oh-” Will adjusted the collar of his shirt slightly, trying to hide the circular scars, but it didn’t quite work. Why were there ink stains on his collar? “I’m fine, it’s just a bit itchy, doesn’t even hurt anymore!” That, of course, was a lie. 

It finally clicked for Henry why the other man was wearing his work gloves the whole time. “At least you didn’t lose any motor function in your hands, these sketches are just as good as they’ve always been.” 

“Why thank you-!” He took out another sheet of paper, and started sketching ideas for the new animatronic. “What should we name it?”

“Puppet, that’s what Charlie calls it.”

Will wrote ‘Puppet’ over the sketch in cursive. “Done.” 

“She’ll love it. Thank you, Will.” 

“Of course, you still gotta help me build the thing!” 

“Hah, I will, don’t worry.” 

— 

“I think something’s wrong with dad.” 

“What do you mean? Is he sick?” Elizabeth looked up at him with wide eyes, the green such a contrast to Micheal and William’s gray eyes. Everyone knew she wasn’t blood related, they didn’t have to ask. 

“You mean you haven’t noticed?? He’s been acting super weird, like, weirder than usual, didn’t you see that mask?” 

“What mask?” 

“You- you haven’t seen it? 

“Didn’t you always wear a mask around too?” 

“Well yeah but- this is different! Mine’s just plastic- that one’s like, a whole animatronic’s head!”

“Oh, like one of those springy suits!” 

“A what?” 

“It’s like an animal-tronic but you can wear it like a costume!” 

“Springlocks. It’s springlocks.” Mike’s face goes a little pale, thinking back to what Henry said. Springlock failure, that’s what put his dad in the hospital, that’s what that bunny is. Springlocks. The damn thing’s a deathtrap and he’s wearing it around like it’s nothing. 

Maybe he really has gone mental. 

“Springlocks! That’s what it was! Daddy says Bonnie and Fredbear are both springlock suits!”

Mike shuddered. Fredbear. He didn’t want to think about that giant yellow bear ever again. Hopefully dad destroyed the damned thing, ripped it to shreds, burnt it to the ground, whatever it took. 

“I hope they never reopen. I’d be happy if I never had to see another damned robot!” 

“That’s not very nice!” 

“I don’t care.” He stuck out his tongue. 

“Mikey, you’re not very nice.” 

“I know.” 

—

Henry Emily was performing on stage again, behind the guise of a golden bear, singing a familiar song, all with William Afton- no- Bonnie at his side, playing the guitar. The children in the audience cheered, their bright eyes focused on the two of them. 

He could hear the locks snap open, one by one, methodical clinks as the gears unwound into his flesh. 

The children all froze, staring at the blood seeping out of Fredbear’s fur. 

Henry screamed out, but it was already much too late, he knew it was, but why wasn’t Will doing anything? 

“H-help…” It was getting hard to speak, hard to even keep screaming, the springs choked his throat. 

William was laughing, the ears on his matching mask bobbing up and down with the motion. 

Children screamed in the audience, some running away, others just staring up, in a state of shock. 

Henry felt a hand on his arm, a small one, like that of a child. 

“Daddy?” 

“C..Char..lie..?”

“Wake up!” 

Henry slowly opened his eyes, before jolting awake suddenly, relieved to find himself back in his bed, and not torn to ribbons inside a springlock suit. 

“Were you having nightmares again?” Charlie was looking up at him in the dark, holding onto his arm with one hand, and her puppet doll with the other. 

“..I was, but I’m okay now. Thanks for waking me up.” 

She shoves the doll into his arms, trying to get him to take it. “Puppet will keep all the scary dreams away.” 

He laughs softly, handing it back to her. “I’ll be okay, you need him more than I do.” 

“Okay… But next time you’re having bad dreams, promise you’ll take him!” 

“I promise.” 

[soupmanspeaks]

Michael Ao3 author AU walk with me here

"hey guys sorry I havent posted much on the Immortal and the Restless fic, I had to do this one errand my father sent me on, its actually a funny story; my dead sister actually possesed this big robot clown that killed her, and I had to like, put her scattered parts back together again, it was a whole thing, but yeah, her murder AI kind of just took over and she tricked me into being a meat suit, so that kind of sucked, and im actually organless atm, so sorry for slower updates, but it is what it is yk"

And then wayyyy later "heyyyyy what's up superstars, sorry for the long hiatus, my soul got put into a robot bear, but that's all taken care of, so chapter 27 soon :3"

[kobadit]

Rogue City was so good, you guys

[toastedclownery]

The god hunt/five sun theory started with "why are Tyneen's pirate crew and ship the same animals as Poseidon's court" and three months later it's at "I think Lariat is gonna (try to) kill everyone"

[kreachvera]

redraw of this panel of Faust House (READ FAUST HOUSE RAAAAHHHHH)