#greaves becile

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

Some sketches of Joseph, Mach, and Greaves!

Also bonus Jenny

[themirrormarches]

the crossover nobody asked for but we all wanted

(greaves belongs to @chaotic-tired-bastard !!)

[ao3feed-spg]

Let's play ✨Poker✨

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/9p60BYy

by Chaotic_Tired_Bastard

Greaves and Hare finally square up for a game of poker.

Words: 1396, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Rusted Memories

Fandoms: Steam Powered Giraffe

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Greaves (Becile Bot OC), Hare Becile (OC)

Additional Tags: FINALLY putting something about my boy on here, Anyways Greaves has a southern accent so yeah. Have a southern robot with issues playing poker, Anyways, Hare tries to cheat, he fails, haha the loser, anyhow Hare isn't my creation and he isn't canon to the SPG Universe (yet), Greaves is my OC and still not canon, Drinking, Gambling, Poker

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/9p60BYy

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

Alternate route for Let's play ✨Poker✨

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

wrap it around your shoulders or lay under it :>

Shhhh he's having a religious experience

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

Me: Greaves, stop cheating

Greaves: No >:(

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

I want more greaves content, personally

Here you go!

Greaves was more than exhausted, that was for sure. Running around all day and keeping Hare out of trouble was a very difficult task, especially if Hare was determined to be as much of a nuisance as possible. Eventually Greaves had just given up and was now sitting in some random bar, a pint of gas he had pilfered from some gas stop in hand as he surveyed the crowd.

The bar was filled with the usual kind of folk you would find in a fine establishment like this- obvious criminals, sketchy people, and the odd person who stumbled in, covered in blood, and ordered a beer or something of the like. Of course, nobody paid any attention to them, and neither would Greaves. He had too much shit to deal with already- he didn’t need to try to beat up whoever it was who decided to get themselves covered in blood, especially with the shit he had been getting himself into lately.

Ahh, that stuff… it had been fun, don’t get him wrong, but it had made the old man so pissed at him that he actually tried to get Skully to break him. Of course, Greaves got away and managed to persuade Skully to not mess him up, but it still pissed Greaves off. The door opened with the faint ding of the rusty bell hung above and Greaves looked up, taking a sip of his gas. He had to keep himself from spitting it out when he saw that it was The Jack.

He looked so out of place it wasn’t even funny. He looked so innocent, his clothes only slightly soot-stained compared to Greaves’ and his hat clutched between nervously twisting fingers. Greaves put his pint down and rapped his knuckles firmly on the table, loud enough to draw The Jack’s attention and yet soft enough to not be obnoxiously loud.

The Jack jumped and his head snapped to attention, his eyes wide with what seemed to be terror before he relaxed at the sight of Greaves. He scuttled over and took the other seat at Greaves’ table, setting his hat on the decrepit wood. “Jack, what’re ya doin’ here? This isn’t your type of place,” Greaves asked, setting his bottle down and looking at the smaller bot suspiciously.

The Jack seemed nervous, more nervous than he usually was, and Greaves couldn’t repress the small burst of anger that flared up. If anyone had done anything to him- “Well, Pops wanted us to find you, and I thought, since I’ve seen you around here…” The Jack said, trailing off.

“And why does he want me? I doubt it’s to polish his shoes,” Greaves asked, raising a not-quite eyebrow as he tried to keep The Jack from noticing his small burst of rage.

The Jack shrugged, looking around the bar with quick eyes. It was more than clear to Greaves that the robot was uncomfortable with the setting, and that tugged at his core. “Hey, wanna go somewhere else? I can see this isn’t the type of crowd you’d like ta run with,” He said, standing up and sweeping his beat-up Mariner’s hat onto his head.

The Jack nodded, standing up too quickly and almost tangling his legs in the legs of his chair. He carefully extracted himself from the thing while Greaves looked around the room, surveying it with a careful eye. Nobody seemed to care about him and The Jack yet, but he had to be careful. More times than he’d like to admit, he’d been followed by scrappers who intended to sell him off bit by bit. He could deal with it if it was only him, but he couldn’t let Jacky get hurt.

The Jack finally extracted himself from the chair and they set off, Greaves not even bothering to shut the door behind him, letting it remain open until some person would come along and care enough to close it and keep the cold out.

The walk to Greaves’ little hidey-hole was short. It was supposed to be that way- it was only a quick trip from any of Greaves’ usual haunts so he could have a place to hide, if the need arose. Neither Greaves or The Jack had temperature sensors that worked in the way humans felt temperature, so the cool night air didn’t bother them.

After a few minutes of walking (and Greaves silently assessing The Jack for any damage, which he found none of), they finally reached it. It wasn’t much, just a basement that nobody went into that Greaves had converted into his own space. Still, it was more home than home ever was.

Greaves ushered The Jack in and checked behind him before entering. There wasn’t much decor or anything; a single bulb from a flickering lamp lit the room and there was a ratty old chair in a corner, a beaten-up coffee table, and a few cans of gas resting on top of said table. The only thing that didn’t seem third-hand or looked like it was pilfered from a garbage dump was a singular, lone plant, nestled up to a surprisingly clean window.

“Is this where you go?” The Jack asked, looking around with an expression that could be described as something somewhere between surprise and curiosity.

Greaves held back a cough and said, “Yeah, this is where I go. Don’t go tellin’ anyone else now, you hear?”

To anyone else his tone would have seemed angry, but The Jack knew he was scared. He was scared that someone would come along and take away this tiny bit of privacy he had, take away this place where he felt safe. To be honest, The Jack could understand. Becile wasn’t all too keen on any of the bots being anything less than servants- it was why he, Hare, and Greaves always clashed.

“I won’t,” The Jack assured, and Greaves physically relaxed.

“So, why’d the old man want me?” Greaves asked, walking over to that old chair and throwing himself onto it.

The chair made an awful creaking noise, like a tree about to fall down, but somehow didn’t collapse. The Jack settled on the floor next to him, pulling his knees up to his chin. Greaves looked guilty for a split second, but the expression quickly dispersed. “Well… pops wanted to know if you knew where Hare was. He hasn’t been home all day, and I’m getting worried, and Pops wanted to make sure he wasn’t doing anything he wasn’t supposed to…” The Jack said.

Ah. So that was why The Jack was so nervous. He trailed after Hare like he was his shadow, almost idol-worshipping him in a way. “I’ve seen him, but I sure as hell ain’t tellin’ anyone where he is. Sorry, Jacky, but today’s one of those days where it’s better to let him be by himself,” Greaves said.

The Jack looked a little bummed out and opened his mouth to say something, but some soot, and maybe a coal, got caught in Greaves’ throat and, by the gods, it hurt. He started hacking into his palm, clouds of smoke rolling from his neck vents and from his open mouth. The Jack stayed silent and still; he knew trying to help right now wouldn’t be of any use. Finally, Greaves dislodged that coal and the pain subsided, smoke now only trailing out of his vents and none coming from his mouth.

The Jack was silent for a second before asking, “Are you okay?”

Greaves gave it a second before he replied. “Yeah, I’m fine. Now, what were you gonna say?”

The Jack waved his hand, dismissing it. “It wasn’t anything important, don’t worry about it,” He said, smiling wanly.

Greaves wanted to argue about that, but it wouldn’t have done any good, so he left it alone. He got up to go water his plant, of which he called Planty. It wasn’t an imaginative name, he knew that, but he still liked it a lot and felt that a dumb name was better than no name. He pulled out a rather small bottle (which he needed to refill, he realised with some small amount of frustration) and poured some water into the makeshift pot Planty was in.

Planty didn’t react as it was, in fact, a plant, and plants couldn’t emote, but Greaves liked to imagine that it seemed just a little happier. He envied Planty, in some weird way. Planty got to sit on a shelf and get taken care of, not having a care in the world other than if it was going to be sunny or the next time it would get water. Greaves longed for that simplicity, that soft type of life where he didn’t have to worry every day on how to keep his brothers alive.

“Greaves?” The Jack asked, snapping Greaves out of his stupor.

“Yeah, Jacky?” Greaves asked, slipping the now-empty flask into his pocket and turning to The Jack.

“…can we go home? I just want to get this over with,” The Jack said, getting up and looking around the room, a small poof of smoke leaving his mouth.

Greaves bit back the remark that wanted to burst out of his mouth, that he was home. “Yeah, let’s go. Can’t let the old man get too comfortable, can we?” He joked, trying to seem normal.

The Jack smiled and Greaves felt some tension leave him. He swept the door open and The Jack walked out, Greaves following him into the cold, dark night.

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

you should do palette #47 with Greaves 👀

Has he killed someone? Who knows! Anyways I really had fun with the rusty colours and adding that rust-orange into the shading :D

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

does greaves... like the blanket?

Greaves: Pshhhhhhh, nah. It's fine, I don't like it all too much...

Greaves: You don't want em back, right? 'Cause there's no way in hell that's happenin 'cause, uhhhhhhhhhhh.... I lost em! Yeah, I lost em. They ain't in my room, 'cause that's the first place I checked

Greaves: Also don't go into my room

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

may I show greaves what your supposed to do with the blankets?

Greaves: Whadda I do with this?

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

May I... give greaves a weighted blanket or 3?

Yep! He just won't know what to do with them

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

may we know more about greaves? Is he like Mach in the becile boys?

Oh, of course! Thank you for asking abt my boy bcs I need to talk about him. Of course, some things will be omitted as to not spoil anything that I have planned for the future.

(Everything below the cut!)

Greaves is like the Becile version of Mach, even though Mach wasn't as widely beloved as The Spine or Rabbit was back then and not many people talked about him. Becile actually built Greaves as an afterthought, trying to prove to Peter that he could make just as many just as well as he could.

Greaves woke up screaming. Becile had to shut him off and spend a few days combing over his circuitry, trying to figure out why this had happened. However, he didn't find anything. He turned Greaves back on, and this time he didn't scream.

Greaves has a passionate hatred for Becile, who often tried to use him as a weapon like he did with The Skull. When he found out that he was dead, he was pissed because he didn't get to kill him.

Greaves is more emotional than the other Becile Bots, as he rides his emotions like they're waves. His mood soars up up up and then it goes down, making him crash into the ground. He usually isolates himself when this happens, as the others are usually in no mood to tolerate his bad mood and snaps of anger. He usually tries to not project this onto anyone else, especially The Jack, who he is extremely protective of.

Greaves went missing around 1942. Nobody could find him, and really only The Jack looked (with Hare being persuaded to help). Becile purged all memory of him from the Becile Bot's memories, as he felt remembering would make them start to act out. He couldn't get to The Jack before he had his accident, but deemed his mental state to be deteriorated enough that he wouldn't need to purge the memories, as any mention of Greaves would probably be mistaken for the ramblings of a madman.

He sees himself as an older brother of almost everyone there, even though he was built last. The Skull doesn't tolerate that kind of behaviour with him, Hare just ignores it, and The Jack… well, The Jack (before his accident) saw him as an older brother. Of course, he didn't shadow Greaves like he did with Hare, but Greaves' door was always open to him. However, Greaves hates Locksmith. He hates him with all his heart, even though he doesn't know a thing about him.

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

Fun fact! Greaves can play the Banjo!

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

This is Greaves, my Becile Bot OC!! I'll expand on his backstory later, so stay tuned for that!

HE'S NOT CANON TO THE BECILE BOTS AU

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

Greaves, stop looking at it like that. It's your own, of course.

[themirrormarches]

and a quick doodle of greaves for @chaotic-tired-bastard. been meaning to draw him.