#cubemann

[all-over-apertures-walls]

Let. Them. Be.😭

[the-evil-twin]

The vital apparatus vent will deliver. Oh, it will.  WILL The weighted companion cube DOES speak. R.I.P. Superstition, perceiving inanimate objects as alive, and hallucinations. I'm not hallucinating. You are. The companion cube would never desert me. Dessert. So long... Cake. Ha ha. Cake. A lie. The companion cube would never lie to me. Trust me. NEVER

Doug Rattmann’s disorganized ramblings scrawled on the wall in his den near Test Chamber 17

[schizolabratt]

I come back to this image sometimes on my down days. It makes me happy.

Welcome to my blog

[lab-rattmann]

some pride

[repulsion-gel]

does it feel like a trial?

[1shimaru]

I drew some cubemann

[apertureratt]

((what if cube's voice is how doug imagines chell's voice))

[arthoewiththesocks]

Thinking of Cosplay ideas from next year…Mom doesn’t completely get the whole grey and pink dress with paint everywhere…but I don’t really want to explain Cubemann to her

[silverstreams]

Short fic for Cakeybots and Emberwhite beneath the cut. 

(By the way, this is a genderbent Doug Rattmann and Cubedroid fic.)

Squeak squeak.

    Dorothy twisted the dull silver knob. Water roared to life in the tubes, and a few moments later water plopped into the bed of the tub. Flakes of rust tinged the water, and Dorothy only frowned before increasing the water pressure. She dipped a hand into the cool water, dragging her fingertips along the surface then letting the bits of rust swirl about.

    She waited until the water ran clear before pressing down on the plug. It roared as it splattered against the hard plastic—at first sounding like a hose hitting concrete, then shifting into a noise like a waterfall crashing into a river below.

    Dorothy pushed her palm flat against the ridged bottom, just listening and feeling the water level rise up her arm. Cube had set off a few minutes ago in search of a towel. Despite raiding the employee shower area, they'd yet to find one.

    Finding this place had been a stroke of luck. This place was tucked away with the slowly crumbling ruins of what had been an employee amenities area—and in the back, they'd even found what appeared to be a more luxurious bathroom suite.

    Rust and time had made the shower heads crusted-over and unusable, but back here water actually ran from the faucet of the bathtub. It was rusty and it was cold, but it was running water.

    When the water hit an acceptable height, Dorothy twisted the knob. The water cut off with one final plop. She tugged at her clothes, glad to peel off her grimy shirt and bra. The pants and underwear came off a moment later, joining the undignified heap of clothing on the floor.

    She slipped her hands along the slick white sides of the tub. The smooth and undisturbed surface mirrored back Dorothy's image, rippling slightly as she edged her way in. Water lapped at the tub's sides, threatening to spill out over the edge and onto the tiled flooring.

    Aaaahhh.

    A wave of goosebumps washed across her skin at the cool water, but she couldn't help but give a sigh of relief. Her arms dipped beneath the surface to join her body. Dorothy leaned her head against the back of her head and closed her eyes.

    As the cool water sloshed and stilled, she couldn't help but picture the outside world. She could easily imagine herself at a public pool on a scorching summer day. The only thing missing was, well, the warmth of the sun overhead.

     Dorothy couldn't remember the last time she'd properly bathed.

    Swirls of grime floated into the clean bathwater with each movement, but she didn't care. Instead Dorothy gave a relieved sigh and slid further into the tub until her chin touched the surface. Her neck craned uncomfortably against the tub's edge. The tips of her hair floated in the water beside her.

    She scooted forward and leaned her head back, ears dipping underwater. Water flooded in, immediately cutting off noise from the outside world.

     Each breath seemed amplified beneath the surface, accented even more by the steady and pulsing thrum of her heartbeat. Each inhale sounded like a distant plane's takeoff. Her stomach dipped in and out of the water with each breath, but she barely noticed.

    She stretched forward and let her spine touch the bed of the tub, knees jutting out into the chilly air. And yet Dorothy couldn't remember the last time she'd ever felt her muscles so fully relax within the facility—this bath calmed her more than a steaming cup of tea.

     A warm hand patted her knee, and Dorothy's eyes snapped open. Cube sat on a stool next to the bath tub and gave a slight smile. She didn't move, instead letting her dark hair swirl around her head.

    The robot's stool skidded against the tile as he shifted it closer to her. Dorothy rolled her eyes back to look at him, now positioned directly behind her. She pressed a palm against the floor of the tub and propped herself back up, water sliding and dripping down her body.

    "Found one," Cube said. He pointed over at a flat pancake of a towel folded beside him.

    Dorothy gave a grateful nod, then shifted to slip back to her underwater silence.

    "Hey, wait—" said the Cube. He reached out a hand, then drew it back.

    Droplets rolled off of her face and plinked into the water. She turned, raising her eyebrows in a silent question.

    "Sorry," he said, giving a small laugh. "I know water won't hurt me, but it's still hard to not be scared of it."

    Though most of the bots at Aperture were waterproof (including Cube), they all shared the same fear of water. With one loose panel, his wires would be exposed—and an accidental splash of water would fry his systems, leaving him a useless hunk of metal.

    He curled his fingers into his palm, then stretched his hand out again.              

    "Here, try setting your head on the tub's edge," he said.

    Dorothy regarded him with a quiet and curious look, then leaned her neck against the tub.

    "When's the last time you combed your hair?"

    Dorothy didn't respond, instead letting her arms slide back into the water.

    She felt the Cube's hands slip behind her neck—still avoiding the water's surface—and then gather up her damp hair. He pulled it out of the water and draped it over the edge, letting droplets of water snake down and splash against the floor.

     Her hair was matted and tangled beyond belief, like an unraveled ball of yarn that had been hastily re-wound. Had she been able to find some scissors, she would have hacked off the greasy, impossible mess ages ago.

    Cube gave her gathered hair a squeeze, wringing out stray water. He fanned out her hair and the began to comb his fingers through it. Dorothy closed her eyes again let her shoulders relax. He began at the roots and edged his way down, gently pulling at some of the larger knots.

    His fingers stuck, but instead of pulling he reached down and pulled out a brush.

    He held her damp hair with one hand, gently working at the tangled clumps. With more gentleness and carefulness than a mother he brushed at the knots, working and pulling and combing until her messy mop of hair unraveled itself.

    Eventually her black hair cascaded outside of the white tub, long and smooth and straight. As she reached back to run a dripping hand through her hair, she couldn't help but notice that it was longer than she remembered.

    She clamped her hands around the edge of the tub and moving to rise out of it. Chills shot through her body, and she considered lowering herself back into the tub.

    Cube stretched out a hand for her to grab as she stepped out of the tub. He couldn't have her slip and fall and hit her head, after all. Not after all they'd been through.

    Dorothy stood there for a moment, hunched and shivering. But Cube had already grabbed her towel, and threw it open and held it out for her.

    She wrapped it tight around her shoulders and slipped closer to him. The threadbare towel provided little warmth against the constant chill of Aperture, and was far too short for her. Not to mention it was just a cheap, plain towel. The company couldn't be bothered to buy luxurious ones, after all.

    Cube wrapped his arms around Dorothy in a tight hug and rested his chin on her head. She leaned into his welcome warmth, and he stretched a hand back to absently comb through her damp, tangle-free hair.  

    And for a moment, she felt human again— warm and clean and happier than she'd been in a long time.

    "Thank you," she murmured. 

[keroa]

x

[thats-peaches]

WEENIE SCIENCE

[all-over-apertures-walls]

cuties in the walls

[the-evil-twin]

Douglas Rattmann running through Aperture Laboratories  Portal 2: Lab Rat, panel 6 [x] 

❝There are moments when I can almost see the underlying grammar of this place. An impossibility, some mad architect’s opus - a relic from an age that never could’ve been. It’s a metastasized amalgam of add-ons, additions and appropriations, building itself out of itself. Beautiful and terrible - and like anything cloned from a cancer cell, probably immortal.❞

This is one of my favorite quotes from the comic. 

[hawlucha]

have a weird doodle

[beethisclose]

So I doodled a quick Cubemann...mostly for Cakeybots, but yeah.

[cubedroid]

"Cubemann is totally platonic" I said to myself once upon a time 3 months ago.

"Just platonic hugging-

platonic kissing

plaTONIC CUDDLING

PLATONIC BLOW JOBS

PLATONIC SEX

PLATONIC EVERYTHING

HUHGURHGUHUR"

"nn-no

I cant be shipping this in a non-platonic matter i just cant I-

*draws Cubemann porn*

well there goes my platonic cubemann headcanon."