#i randomly think of this cats face and just fall into shambles laughing

[so-very-small]

me when i take a hit off my weed pen and get to just sit and think my g/t thoughts for a while

[burndownthehousetonight]

((I just finished up an RP with @wolvesbotsetc! It’s kind of short, but for something that was finished in about a day, it was pretty lengthy! All y’all go check his blog out, he’s a cool dude! ❤))

It was almost too perfect. No, not the junior police officers who just had to chase after some suspected thief and be the hero of the day, but where he ended up. A long-abandoned city townhouse with the only back entrance being the broken fire escape? It was too crazy to think someone would jump onto something that broken, yet alone in this kind of pouring rain. Especially not some fresh-off-the-press officers with the combined abilities of a termite. The clutter from his cheap backpack was thankfully inaudible over the pounding storm. The sound of the officers' footsteps fading away from the building was replaced by the sound of rain echoing through the building. It was strangely soothing, given how violent the rain itself was. And it looked like some old furniture was left in this mess dating back for decades. It was definitely robbed of anything of value long before, but maybe it would be a fun place to snoop around. As the hedgehog walked around, he would hear a small buzzing behind a door, something… mechanical. No breathing could be heard, just… buzzing. As he walked forward, a small light could be seen under the door. Was someone actually here? Or was it just some strange valuable that stayed on this whole time? Impossible. This place must have been left to rot in the nineties, there's no way anything from then would still be running. He waited and watched. The same buzz and glow. The echoes made it hard to concentrate, but he was sure he didn't hear any breathing. Maybe someone left something in here? A flashlight, probably. He technically wasn't wrong. There was an electronic left in the building. But it wasn't a flashlight, or anything he might have expected or even thought of. He didn't expect an entire robot with eyes that appeared to be the guts of flashlights repurposed into the voids of the face, like some strange Frankenstein's monster of engineering. Its cold eyes and segmented tail reminiscent of a spine would have been terrifying normally, except... was it cold? It was covered in water and appeared to be shivering. For as unnatural as it looked, it acted strangely natural. Not just natural, but vulnerable. "Uh... Are you alright?" Rob looked up before letting a few sparks fly, apparently the source of the buzzing. “Who are you,” it said in a low, blunt voice. “I can’t imagine you own these shambles.” He said, trying to get up before sparking and falling. “Error: Water levels too high for movement function, rust levels 60%,” before going back to it’s regular voice. “Great… can’t move til I dry now… probably shouldn’t have let it all seep in…” he said to himself. Manic had heard his brother speak tall tales of fighting a robot version of himself. He dismissed it as garbage. Now he realized that these kinds of robots might not have been as impossible as he thought. He looked around, but there was nothing like a towel or rag in the area. All he had was an athletic backpack and... "Uh, here, dude, would this help?" He put his backpack down on the ground and took off his vest. It was slightly damp - Manic had thankfully gotten out of the rain barely after it started. There was a moment of hesitation before he stepped forward, and placed it over the robot's chest like it was a towel. "You are- You're a real robot. I'm not seeing things or anything, right?" But the rust felt real enough, and the arms were far too thin for this to be some intricate costume. Somehow, this wasn't fake. The bot looked at him, grimacing. “Oh yes, I’m a big ball of flesh and fur underneath a big hunk of metal. That’s why I’m shooting sparks, and why I’m repeating error messages I’m forced to report whenever I’m waterlogged. Totally a mobian,” he replied, jerking the towel away from him and wiping himself off. "Alright, I gave you my vest so you WOULDN'T be sparking and making error messages." Manic fired back. "Now are you gonna drop the sass and let me help you out, or do you want me to jet and leave you to rust in this dump?" A completely hollow threat, but Manic didn't ever want to put up with this kind of sarcasm. He stood up, and looked around, still in disbelief. "If you're done being salty, I'm gonna check the other rooms for bedsheets or whatever." He hurried out into the other rooms, scanning around and eventually stumbling across a tired and weathered old bedsheet. It was full of holes, but it was the best they had for the situation. That situation being absolutely bizarre, of course. What the hell had he just stumbled across? The bot watched him as he got back. “Why are you here anyways, huh? You have to be hiding from someone. And considering I’ll be here, and you’re seeming to make yourself at home, I assume you’ll be here too. So spill.” "No one likes a snoop, buddy." Manic said. "I'm helping you out here, ain't I?" He knelt down next to him, half wanting to slap his metal face and wholly wanting him to stop bugging him. The sheets weren't comfortable to the touch, but they absorbed water just fine. Not that it mattered much, given how rusty he was. He kept giving Manic that glare. "Alright, you want an answer? I'm a thief." He lifted the robot's arm, and started patting it with the sheet. "But I ain't robbing anyone randomly. Some dude was being a dick to me, so I was a dick and took some random crap from him. You happy?" The cat nodded, “I see…” he said, looking off as he dried himself as best he could, before handing the rest of the blanket to the hedgehog. “You want something to listen to?” He asked from out of nowhere, looking at the other. Manic looked out through the hole where a window once sat. The rain was coming down just as hard, and it seemed like this guy wasn't going to be able to leave any time soon. Besides, he didn't want to get drenched, either. "Uh- let's try this again, dude." He sighed out, still slightly bitter. "I'm Manic. I mean, if you wanna listen to something, go ahead, but how-" This was the first time he really noticed the two antennaes he had instead of ears. He tuned through the variety of stations, a mix of sup-par popular music stations and more decent variety shows. "Wait, dude, uh-" He didn't want to say anything TOO stupid. "You ever tune in to the really low frequency stations? There're some really good music stations down there, and some reeeeeeally bad ones." The cat gave him a slightly odd look, but nodded, going lower, tuning into a few number stations, amateur kids trying to do radio, before finally settling on a hard rock station, turning it to a low volume and letting the music play through speakers buried in his chest. “Rob,” he said, holding out his hand. “Not a fan of my name, but it’s what the creator wanted so… apparently he likes puns.” Manic gave an approving nod and returned the handshake in a way he would call casual and cool, but anyone else would call lazy. "Please tell me your full name ain't robot," he said, visibly cringing at the thought. "That'd be like naming your kid 'spawn' or 'offspring', wouldn't it?" No, he didn't want to insult his name any more. "I mean, you've got good taste in music, but I thought you'd WANT to be all sassy?" Manic joked. He kept staring at his acquaintance, and the strangely natural ways his body moved and folded as he moved. "I'm sorry, dude, I ain't ever met a robot before, this is a lot to take in." He noticed a plug on the back of his neck. He hadn't seen this kind of socket on any modern equipment. Combined with the rust, he was clearly older than he was designed to look. "Who are you? Like, aside from just a sassy robot, I mean." He let out a soft sigh. “You’d be half wrong. Full name is Ro-bert. It sucks in every aspect of the word,” he scoffed, before answering the hedgehog. “I was made… 42 years ago. I was meant to be a butler of the future… look how well that turned out.” He sighed. “I think I was deactivated…. 10 years after I was actually made." "Deactivated?" It caught Manic off-guard. "You were in some kind of statis, or whatever?" There were probably times when any of this rust could have been removed or prevented, but that was clearly no longer the case. He must have simply reactivated one day with new newfound decay. "Woah... That's some heavy stuff." He never wanted to be heavy. His brother was Sonic, of course he liked being goofy and excited. As he looked at Rob and started desperately hoping that Rob wasn't going to think of it as creepy, he noticed how plain his metal was. Not that it was ugly, but there wasn't any branding or anything of the sort. "I mean, dude, you don't have Rob printed on you or anything. Hell, even if it was, it must've rotted away by now. You can choose a name for yourself, people do it all the time." He made a grin that, even to a robot, said that there was something mischievous rattling around his brain. "Maybe 'Salty'? Or 'Smarmy Boy'?" The robot looked at him. “You will call me nothing of the sort. And I have no name I like more, I hate them all. I don’t understand why names are even used, it could just be numbers or something of the sort.” "Okay, I'm gonna sound real nancy for saying this," Manic said, already laughing at his doubtless ridiculous response. "But my sis? She's got a kid, and she says it's all about 'having a WISH for your CHILD!'" He enunciated everything in that overly snobby tone her husband used. "Like Sonia? It means wisdom, I think. You name your kid Sonic; It means fast, so you want him to be fast. You name your kid Manic; It's a kind of depression, so he's gonna get diagnosed with depression." Given his chuckle, he clearly wasn't broken up about that fact. "Hold on, I like giving people nicknames, gimme a second." He looked at rob as he was drying. Of course, a bunch of very silly ideas came to mind, although maybe calling him 'killbot seventeen' or 'Yog Sothoth's Automaton of Ultimate Death' would have been insensitive. But hell, his only experience with robots was bad horror and sci-fi movies, and this dude was just basically a normal guy who couldn't handle the rain. ...Right, he forgot about the rain. "Uh, dude, you feeling any better? You think you can move now? The robot tried to get up, wincing at the thought of falling down and repeating damn error messages. Remarkably though, he was fine. “Seems most things have dried up,” he replied back, giving a small smirk. “Thank you, Manic,” he said, before sitting back down. “Though it’s not much help if I can’t leave but… at least I can walk.” "Whaddya mean, not much help?" Manic scoffed. "You've got walking legs and like, three empty, decrepit awful rooms in some crappy building to explore. That's more than two rooms! You telling me you can't stay entertained with all of the option you have?" "Hey, speaking of entertaining," Manic said, "If you wanna be smarmy, remember when I said there's weird stuff on low frequency stations? I found this one channel, and- I think some dude just got a transmitter, and he's trying to do his own show? It's just the dumbest conspiracy theories, like, all day. If we're stuck here, might as well riff on something that ain't my face, you know? Wanna check it out?" As joking and silly as Manic was, he clearly wasn't stuck here. But Rob sure was. And even if he did have stolen goods on hand, he still wasn't gonna get caught in somewhere like this. The robian tuned in, before looking over. "So why are you still here?” He asked, looking over “You aren’t stuck here, and it’s been silent outside for ages now” "Eeeh, more than before." It was still raining, but the pop-up shower had let up to a more moderate rainfall, rather than the buckets earlier. "I mean, you're still stuck here 'til the rain's over, right? You shouldn't just sit around in some dump alone for a while. Especially if you're gonna need maintenance like that, or whatever. Suffering's better with someone else, you know?" Manic didn't seem to get how thoughtful his sentiment was. He just sat where he was near Rob, listening to the radio station he tuned in. Odd, he wasn't mocking it or anything. The robot let out a sigh, looking down. “I don’t really need maintenance, and I've been a loner for most of my reactivation time… it’s not that terrible to be alone in my opinion…” he said, trailing off into thought. He couldn't see any kind of controls for the radio, they must have all been internal. Still, as Rob trailed off into thought, so did the volume until it was just a murmur. "I mean, yeah, I get that, dude." Manic finally responded with. "But I mean, company don't hurt, either." Still, they had gotten off on the wrong foot. Maybe he wasn't over Manic's sass yet. "Do you want me to go, dude?" The robot shook his head. “I don’t mind either way. I'd probably leave too if it weren't for the rain…” he said, before his right pupil light flickered off. “Shitty bulbs…” That was just sad. The rust and earlier errors were enough to make Manic sympathize, but one of his eyes blowing out? It looked like he was just falling apart in front of Manic. He should have found meeting an anthropomorphic robot cool. But he was very far past his prime, and if his creators abandoned him, he was likely far away from anyone who knew how to repair him. Manic opened his backpack. All of the things he'd taken from that guy who used to live a few apartments down from Manic were just meaningless trinkets, none of which had any kind of bulbs attached. "Alright, if I'm not wrong, I think there's an electronics shop like two blocks away? You know what bulb that is? If you're fine waiting, I could pop out and get you a new one." He couldn't help being a sentimental person. He couldn't leave someone alone in this state! “I need no fixing,” he stated. “I’m a shamble already, nothing can fix that. I’m better off falling apart until I’m a mangle of machinery and rusted metal. Just like the living things of this earth. I've served my purpose, apparently poorly at that,” he said, “don’t waste your time.” "Because you're a lost cause at this point," Manic said, almost sounding annoyed or moching. "You had potential, but you failed to serve it, and don't have any more potential, so you have to make due, and all that shit." Manic looked almost angry at this point. Some switch inside him had been flipped. "What, you think you're the first person to think these thoughts? Tons of us have had to live with self loathing. I know what you're gonna say, so don't insult yourself, mate. You're a sentient robot built on antiquated tech, you know how incredible that is? You know how incredible you could be with a few modern upgrades? You know how much you could do if you DON'T give up and let yourself rot away." He was standing now, almost shouting his words at him. "You're NOT a waste of space, and don't give me that 'wasted purpose' bullshit." He squatted down, getting on eye level with him. "Now, you're dropping the loathing bullshit, and you're telling me what kinda bulb that is, and you're letting me help you clean up. Got it?" “You aren’t doing shit for me. You aren’t my creator, you aren’t my owner, you're just some thief who happened upon me. And I don’t want to be upgraded. I don’t want to have to be shut down yet again just for someone to put me in some new material or do some stupid shit for me just so it can degrade and rust again, and again, and again. If I am turned off again, I want to stay off, so I never have to stand on the planet and wonder what my purpose is as everything around me gets replaced. People, plants, buildings, planets, everything that lives gets replaced by something better, and they want everything they have to be replaced by better and better things. I want to stay the same, damnit. I’m not replacing this bulb, and you aren’t about to fix me.” Manic listened. He listened to every word, and absorbed every meaning. "Like I said, you think you're the first person to have these thoughts?" He said quietly. "Everyone's looking for a purpose, a meaning, whatever. And yeah, watching the world and all this crap get replaced is shitty. But you ain't the fashion or phones or whatever that change overnight, you've got a consciousness. Even if it's old 70s hardware, you're a person. A robotic, metal person, but you're still a damn person. And conciousness doesn't just change in a night." He squatted in front of Rob as he spoke. "If you want to stay the same and enjoy what you've got, good. That's what every other Mobian's living with. But you clearly don't wanna rust. Yeah, you say you hate yourself, and you say you wanna rot, but what about when you get waterlogged, hm? What about when you're rusting to death in some pile of rubble? You snatched my vest immediately, don't act like you hesitated. You don't want this to happen, and you know it. And even if you still wanna die for some reason, I'm watching you have a good time those last few days, got it?" He spoke strangely severely. "You ain't dying miserably on my watch. And again," he said as he pointed and waved his finger at Rob, "You're dropping the loathing bullshit, and you're telling me what kinda bulb that is, and you're letting me help you clean up. Got it?" “I don’t say I want to die, I say if I die I don’t want to wake up again. The void is nice. I don’t have to think, I don’t have to do. what pains me is when I have to be powered back on by some flesh person, I have to have every single idea, every single memory, every single movement pushed back into my soul, as I start up. Imagine if when you woke up from your “sleep” and had every single memory, good, bad, or indifferent, shoved back into your mind, and you have to watch them flood back in. Imagine suddenly having to relearn every single thing your body does in the blink of an eye, from the legs up. It’s utter hell, not to mention if someones crammed an upgrade into you, or a new outer casing, or some other shitty thing that’ll break down in 5 years, you have to have all that memory shoved into you too.” He said, staring at the hedgehog with a piercing, 1 eyed one voided gaze. “You wouldn’t want to sleep ever again, would you?” Manic stared back, racing for something to say. But there was nothing he could say. It was such an extreme case, he couldn't relate himself to anything that was coming out of his mouth. It did sound like torture, Manic couldn't argue anything he said. He just had to take every word he said. "I guess I've got no idea what you're going through, dude." He spoke gently. "I really do wanna help, dude, but I guess I've got normal Mobian problems. I think I'd say the same things." He sighed. "But people can still help you, dude, without turning you off. If you don't feel pain, you could get like, patchwork metal attached if you want that. I guess if you don't ever want to have to start up, then don't let yourself turn off. But you already know that." The moment was uncomfortable, and the damp air didn't help. "Are you gonna be alright? Like, mentally?" He sighed. “I wasn’t built to have sanity, so there’s no point in asking that…” he said, laying down and looking up. “40 watt bulb, as long as it’s a screw in it should work,” he finally muttered, sighing. “Be quick.” Manic hesitated for a moment, before giving him a pat on the shoulder and bolting out of the building. He'd walked in worst rain storms than this. It was just water, he'd be fine. He thought over every word Rob had said time and time again, trying to come up with something he could say that might have helped. Something silly, or serious, just something that wouldn't make him feel worse than Manic likely already made him feel. He was gone and back in maybe ten minutes tops. "Alright, they had the same brand at this place, so you're in luck." Manic sat down next to Rob, hesitating fiddling with his eyes. "Uh, this isn't gonna hurt, is it?" But the replacement was easy, simply removing one appliance bulb and putting in another. Although from as little time as they'd spent together, Rob knew that smug, mischievous grin meant he probably had another dumb joke in mind. "Hey, you won't beleive what they had." Manic reached into the bag, and pulled out- was that just a metal box? "I think it's supposed to be something you put circuitry in, or something? I mean, it looks pretty close to these curves on your arm," he explained, indicating a hole rusted into his arm. "I've got a soldering iron back in my van, we could probably cut it to shape and get that baby covered up." The cat shook his head. “I don’t need it, I work fine without any metal there,” he said, sighing as the light flickered back into existence. “But thank you…” he said, looking over. “So… after this… what next? You just gonna go steal more stuff?” Manic laughed and smiled. "The days when I needed to steal to get by are loooong gone, dude. I've got other jobs and hobbies and crap!" He smiled, and looked away. "Actually, I do a lot of music stuff. I'm a singer and a drummer. Sometimes guitar, but my playing's kinda... Meh?" He wiggled his hand and grimaced as he spoke. "I was just gonna head home and get tuned up, but I've got a show tonight. There's this pizza place near that Honey Clothing store, 'Meltdown', that I play at weekly. Every Thursday at eight." He smirked, and looked over at him. Despite what he said next, he said it like any other joke, sticking his tongue out and making a stupid grin. "So, you wanna come and watch? The self-loathing brigade needs to stick together, after all." The cat shrugged. “Maybe if the rain lets up before that… not like I have anything else to do that is,” he said, shrugging. "Don't get too excited," Manic sassed. He quickly regained his normal happy tone, reaching under his vest. "Hey, I always have some of my CDs with me." He rummaged through a hidden pocket, pulling out a CD with a surprisingly 80s styles label. "I dunno if you've got a player, but if you do... Want a taste before you see it live? Or wanna experience the real deal?" The cat looked at him, shaking his head. “No cd player that I know of, and i know everything about my body… so…” "Come on, you're a futuristic robot! Just cram it in your mouth, chomp it down! That probably wouldn't kill you dead!" Manic was back to his goofy ways. "Well, whatever, dude, guess you're hearing it all live. Don't worry, it ain't screamo or anything. Come on, have a good time, just distract yourself from your bad thoughts and have some fun!" As much as he joked and messed around, he was still somewhat taken aback by everything Rob shouted at him. "Hey, uh, do you have a phone or anything?" He said, reaching back into his vest and pulling out his own. "I know what that stuff's like. If you ever want to just hang out on a bad day or rant it out or whatever, you can hit me up, alright? You want my number?" The cat nodded, as he pulled out a phone from an inner storage area on his leg. “Only text though, phones don’t pick up my voice,” he said. "Really? That's kinda wicked," Manic admitted. He started pressing Rob's number into his phone. "But seriously, dude, I know you don't think much of yourself, and I know you don't think you're programmed for sanity, but don't let those kinds of thoughts run you, alright? People don't just wanna watch each other suffer, they wanna see each other thrive. People are good, dude." "...Even if they're just street thieves with bad hair." Maybe he wasn't the laughing type, but he was still starting to enjoy the time they spent together. And hell, maybe if he chose the right songs, he could get some genuine smiles out of him at the show later. "The rain's starting to clear up, I think. You mind if I head out, dude? I gotta get ready for the show." The robot nodded, heading off to the fire escape to look out and check, soon confirming that the rain had stopped. He stepped out, before looking at the hedgehog. “See you there”. With that, he walked off. Manic watched him walk away for a moment... and then turned around to grab his bag. He had a lot to do. He had to put on clothes that didn't smell like a decayed building, he had to get ready for his set... ...and he had to put together the perfect set list to make sure he'd get a smile out of him.