Hey I saw your comments on the recent case of too many spines post and. WHAT is fanbot high. I am, suffice 2 say, Extremely curious 👀👀 :3
You can find the archives at @fanbothigh !
Ah, FH. This was one of my early AU projects-- though while I say "mine" since I started it, it was highly collaborative! A lot of people contributed to it.
The gist of it was a SPG AU setting where robots were commonly built to have multiple stages of chassis as they aged, mimicking how humans grow up physically as well as mentally. The crux of the storylines was Delilah Moreau High School for Automatons-- there was also a "timeline flip" so the Cav scientists existed in the modern day, with Peter and Thadeus being co-founders who named it after Delilah posthumously. The student body was made up of fanbots, including Boodle and The Becile Bots (this was way before I got custody of them, but their original creator Surge OK'd their inclusion), and I tried to keep it open for most anybody to throw their hat in the ring, though naturally my friends were the most keen on it. It was one of the projects that sadly suffered for my poor mental health during those years, but like Chibi Becile I did eventually write down all the thoughts and ideas that didn't make it to paper (which is on the blog). But still, it was very, very near and dear to my heart-- particularly the friendship that developed between Boodle and Jacky Becile, which I think you would've seen me mention in those comments!
Near the end of my working on it, I started getting antsy about it and tried to convert most of it to original characters. I've tried to figure out how to fold the ideas I still like into the setting of The Five Bright Stars/New Amida, but so far a lot of the key points haven't gelled together.
OH i only remembered this cuz the song was on the radio, single fh!verse comic page of skull playing the george thorogood 'who do you love' and mumbling/graveling the lyrics and the bit with 'come on take a little walk with me baby/and tell me who do you love' is of course the panel with shi walking up looking consternated like he knows exactly what kind of narrative device he's being subjected too. Also, cuso being way too into karaoke'ing 'ain't no rest for the wicked' hand dancing and evrythg
THIS WAS SUCH A GOOD THING TO COME HOME TO YES YES YES I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS.
Shi ain’t no fool, he knows e x a c t l y what kind of narrative device he’s being subjected to.
Also Skull WOULD have the perfect voice for George Thorogood BLEASE TELL ME HE’S PLAYED BAD TO THE BONE and even if he hasn’t Shi DEFINITELY jibes him with lyrics anyway.
I don’t know if this is anything…buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut.
Since we’re talking about MCR songs, there is actually one that I do associate with Jack and Boodle! (Said song is also on their fan-made playlist that I made on Spotify lol).
“Kill All Your Friends” is a song I associate with them! Similar reasons as to what I had said in the ask you sent me—i.e., picturing the buildup to + the climax of the original FH story. BUT. I also picture beginning parts which are more, like, my interpretation of events + sprinkled in Boodle headcannons here and there.
The beginning part of that song is just plain Boodle identity issues and existentialism, babyyyyyyyyyyy. Also, Boodle being so painfully aware from the beginning that his death is imminent and inescapable. And he’s just gonna start over again, and again, and again, and again, and again. “And you can sleep in a coffin, but the past ain’t through with you”. UGH.
And then the “…tell me, baby, who do you wanna be?” Is Jack giving him an opportunity, inadvertently, to be a person? To find himself? To have friends and to LIVE for once?
And then the part where it’s “Sometimes you scrape and sink so low…” is kind of a back and forth with Jack and Boodle when things start to ramp up and start going not so good. Boodle starting it, internally, feeling so low of himself and also having the lines “I was killing before killing was cool” and “You’re so cool, you’re so cool, so cool” because. At least to me, I feel like all the reality warping takes a MASSIVE toll on Boodle. And I feel like, in some way, Boodle starts feeling really guilty and also terrified by these “abilities” that stem from HIS core that he CAN’T CONTROL and is DESPERATELY AFRAID that somehow, accidentally, he’ll hurt someone. And because of that he’s just like…when Jack is so fascinated by him and thinks this sorta stuff is cool—especially with all the dream stuff the two would do together—and thinks that HE has a shot at living and could be, like, “a planeswalker”????? He’s so utterly confused???? And is just like????? Whhhhhyyyyyyy would you think that????? Can’t you understand that I COULD hurt people???? WHY DO YOU THINK I’M COOL???? In some way, it could be sweet cause’ I highly doubt anyone he’d ever known thought of him like that but, like, for the most part…I think it’d haunt him.
And then, on the Jack side of things, he has the lines: “I’m shocked at what you’re capable of” because he thinks Boodle is cool and interesting and mysterious and…literally the coolest person he’s ever met? Like, he has magic! That’s so cool! And “So, tell me all about your problems” because he…does start to see a shift in Boodle at some point and tries to help him as best he can. I see this part happening shortly after the game of tag they had on the hill.
The chorus part “‘Cause we all wanna party when the funeral ends…/…And we all get together when we bury our friends” is the climax part (WHICH, by the way, I do choose to picture Jack seeing Boodle get his core get ripped out because one, extra angst, and two, he LITERALLY, more or less, SEES HIS BEST FRIEND DIE AND CAN DO NOTHING TO STOP IT—which I am totally sure was NOT cannon but…for the sake of making this more angsty…I chose to roll with it lol). And then the “And you’re walking away / And I will die in this place” is the part where Boodle makes the choice to leave after re-growing his core and the whole “swing-set goodbye” they have in their dreams.
THEN. The bridge part “You’ll never take me alive…/ Do what it takes to survive, ‘cause I’m still here” is Jack doing the transdimensional ferry stuff to go find Boodle in the Nexus. And yada, yada, yada…the rest follows the same stuff in the FH write-up more or less.
Besides Jack and Boodle though, another MCR song I associate with just Boodle is “Mama”. Which, may or may not be self explanatory based on the title alone lol. BUT. A lot of the lines reminded me of him. Especially this part: “If you could coddle the infection, they can amputate at once / You should’ve been, I could have been a better son”. Because, like, Box TRIED to raise him. Give him the best life he could after all of the initial ????? What the heck is this weird child???? Was mostly gone. But, it would never really amount to anything in the end because Boodle, no matter how much Box or the other Spine’s or even the Walter’s cared about him…they would all just end up forgetting him in the end. And then HE would be FORCEFULLY removed/erased (amputated) from the narrative JUST TO COME BACK AND DO IT ALLLLLLLLLLLLL OVER AGAIN (If you couldn’t tell, time looping Boodle is VERY interesting to me). AND ALSO. Boodle having issues with identity and who he “should/should’ve been” because he’s supposed to be a “Spine” but he just kinda…isn’t? So he kinda just pretends to be???? Even though he’s not and will never be one because he’s just too much…him???? He’s too “different” to be a “normal Spine”. And also him feeling like a burden stuff and feeling like he could’ve been a better son if only the Powers That Be could stop using him like a PUPPET ON A STRING FOR THEIR OWN ENTERTAINMENT.
ALSO ALSO. This line: “But there’s sh*t that I’ve done with this f*ck of a gun / You would cry out your eyes all along”…which also ties into the whole because Boodle can’t control the reality warping stuff thats caused by his core…even though it never DID technically happen…he’s mortified by the potentiality of “doing” HORRIBLE STUFF TO PEOPLE/THOSE HE CARES ABOUT BECAUSE OF HIS STUPID DEFECTIVE HORRIBLE BROKEN CORE…stuff that I had mentioned before.
And then there’s also: “We’re damned after all…/…To return from the ashes you call / We all carry on / When our brothers in arms are gone / So raise your glass high, for tomorrow, we die” …Which is basically just the tragedy of all of the paradox kids. At some point in all of their cannons (except for Junior…for some reason…I guess) I’m pretty sure they’re all supposed to disappear in the end. But BOODLE of course was so beloved HE just HAD TO COME BACK (In my original Boodle lore post I explained my logic and rational for time looping Boodle by the way, I’m not sure if you read it or not) and return from the ashes time and time again.
So, uh. Yeah. There’s that. Sorry that this got pretty long, I was just reminded of the MCR songs I personally associate with Boodle because of your ask and then I thought that maybe you’d find it interesting if I shared my reasonings for these songs (which are all on the Boodle playlist, let me assure you of that lol) and why I associate them with him!
I need to go back and re-read my own write-up haha. And listen to that first song, I know Mama but not that one. It's cool that it's a long ask, I don't think I've read everything you've posted but even though it's like, sad HCs and a bittersweet story I still find it heartwarming, since these two meant the world to me back then. Thanks for sharing!!
I MISS THIS FUCKIN AU OKAY, I MISS THESE IDIOTS. I took a lot of liberties here but this is just my headcanons about a thing happening on graduation day. Feel free to tell me I’m a fool.
Warning for language and I guess PDA sorta.
PREQUEL
@amuseoffirebane
It happens on The Skull Becile’s high school graduation day, standing in an abandoned classroom and watching the rain smear against the glass panes of the windows. He is alone, for now. The ceremony starts in less than an hour and his gown is still crumpled his arm, forgotten because the storm makes him moody, so much more melancholy than he'd originally have thought.
It feels weird to think he's leaving all of this behind.
The graffiti he marked all over the underside of the desk will be scraped off, or washed away. Or, worse, simply forgotten. At the very least, it won't be his anymore. He won't be able to skip classes or goof off or elbow people into lockers if they're really ticking him off. He won’t be able to eat the crappy, grainy coal they offered in the cafeteria. No more English classes that felt more like ancient Greek.
(Ancient Greek would have been easier, honestly, but he’d always managed somehow. He’d had Father to impress, things to prove in his own way. English still seems useless, tedious, but somehow he’s thinking he’ll miss it too.)
Things are about to get serious now. The Skull, surprisingly, finds himself not much caring for ‘serious’.
He's thinking about all this stuff, some of it meaningless, some of it touching a little deeper than he'd like, when it happens.
It happens when Shi Carlton, the valedictorian and shut-in extraordinaire, opens the classroom door and pauses. The Skull doesn't look behind him; he doesn’t know it’s Shi at first. Just someone interrupting his alone time. Whoever it is, either they'll leave him the hell alone because they know The Skull's no pushover or they'll come in and annoy him, anyway. Shi doesn't do either of these things. He just stands in the threshold, studying The Skull in a way that he could feel even if he were blind and suffering from a badly-done lobotomy.
"Raining," is what The Skull finally says. He turns around because the game is getting old; he's irritated. He's even more pissed off when he sees Shi Carlton standing there, some scrawny copper nobody who hasn't gotten anything less than a perfect score since they were in kindergarten together, also someone with whom he’s exchanged exactly two words since they’d gotten into their infamous fist fight.
(Those two words had been a gruff, “move it” when Shi had been in his way in the hall, to which Shi had replied with an equally clipped, brief, “screw you.”)
Shi isn't dressed in his gown, either, though it's probably stashed neatly in the satchel swinging loosely in his hands.
"Yer powers of observation astound me," Shi replies, his voice stiff even in its muttering tone. He finally enters and closes the door behind him neatly. Shi does everything neatly, or maybe a more apt way of saying is that he does things like it's not worth making a fuss over. It's sickening to The Skull. "It's better t’ rain on a day like t’day."
It's not like Shi to be sentimental. The Skull smirks in the flare of his throat. "Fit the mood?"
Shi lifts his satchel, raising one silver eyebrow. "S’ less smotherin’ in the gowns."
He doesn't need to feel stupid, but he does. "The hell."
Shi makes a noncommittal sound. It’s like a click of his vox, dismissive without being cruel. That’s Shi all over, and somehow Skull hates that he knows it. "I was hopin’ to find you alone."
"Whatever you want, I don't—"
It happens on The Skull Becile's high school graduation day, standing in an abandoned classroom and watching the rain smear against the glass panes of the windows. Shi Carlton steps forward and The Skull can feel the back of his legs hit a desk when he automatically retreats, but this is a game he's not been prepared for and Shi is the master tactician, and Shi kisses him just like that with the rain pitter-pattering against the walls and his fingers knotted in The Skull's gown, still held like a shield against his chest.
He's never been kissed. It’s a little like being electrocuted, but not.
"I like you," is what Shi says after he's stepped back, looking so unruffled and unreadable that The Skull wants to kill him. "I know ya know that. Sorry t’ come here s’ sudden, but that’s why I wanted t’ find you alone. I ain’t wastin’ time on regrets. G’bye, Becile."
And then he leaves.
For a long time, The Skull stays there against the desk, knuckles pressed tightly to his metal teeth and eyes wide. He wonders why he didn't punch Carlton. He wonders who the hell does something like that and walks away without finishing it. He wonders—
Hell.
Fucking hell.
The bell starts ringing; it's almost time. Signal to get in line. Rest of his life ahead of him, right. Time to get serious. Time to get… whatever. The Skull shakes it off, forgets, and moves on the only way he knows how – forward, sharp and sure.
He could tell everyone, of course. Valedictorian, gay as Christmas. But that would be admitting to… yeah, forget it, just brush it off. Doesn't matter anymore.
His core feels weird and tight, his engine not firing quite as smooth as he’s like, but he ignores that, dons his gown and joins the line. It’s going to be a long afternoon, and there’s plenty else to focus on.
Shi wasn't even certain he could call them nightmares. They were more like a horrible twisted contortion of dreamscape, disturbing and haunting, but not exactly frightening. He expected the memories, ugly and sharp and over processed, the bad moments he’d lived through that he never thought about in waking. Seeing something completely fabricated is new and unexpected.
There's no reason or logic applied to the realms of sleep. Yes, there are images, familiar realizations. But order and reality never turn up, there are no sharp, clear thoughts within the world of dreams. Everything's as though swimming under dark waters; murky, deep, so enveloping in its embrace that one can't bother with mundane things like thought.
However, Shi did not have ordinary dreams anymore. They had order. Too much order to be true, too many shaky coincidences. Another strange thing; he dreamed every night. Behind shuttered optics, engine idling as he rested.
And never, never could he awaken without the screams.
The sound of nothing filled his ears like a howling rush.
In any given lifetime, the sound of silence will never exist. Noise is a common distraction, a prevailing force in the way one survives, and to truly hear "silence" for once would most likely destroy a normal person's mind. After all, even when alone, the breath of a stoked furnace, the tick of resting engines, they echo within every bot.
Never silent, Shi used to think. Now there was silence.
Around him, falling in sheets of glossy flakes and wisps, a fluttering of snow rained down softly from the sky. It covered the ground in pure, crystal blankets of white and glimmering ivory, endlessly stretching across to a flat horizon in the distance. There was nothing here. Nothing but snow falling, gently brushing over his features as he stared up incoherently at the inconceivable, incredible blankness of the sky. An empty canvas of world. Snowing.
Shi blinked.
It was strange in that he was here, he could feel the snow beneath him on the ground, shiver at the touch of its icy breath, the digging of tiny flakes against his plating. Strange that his exhaust vented out in shuddering balls of puffed cloud, but he couldn't hear it. There was no sound here.
Silence looming over, everywhere. No sound.
He got up, wincing as he did, the ice sheet under him scraping the plating of his palms. No sound of it, though. Not his clothes when they rustled, not the sound of his breath, no heartbeat. Even the falling snow didn't contribute a whisper.
And he was aware. So very aware.
There was nothing.
Except now there was something. Shi stood up, vibrant optics darting around the winter wasteland. Nothing but him, the cold, the wind, and the silence. And something else. He could feel it as sure as his skeleton was in his frame, like he was just as a part of the ground tread upon by the something. It was... disturbing.
It was coming – and now he could see it.
The dark figure on the horizon, shimmering from nothingness into existence, the absurd way a dream works – and even as he thought that, Shi recoiled at the knowledge he could think in this, knew it was a dream, knew it was illogical and strange. Realized he was aware.
Wrong. So very wrong.
And the name that passed over his lips, not echoing at all in the stillness, not even being heard – but still said – that name was wrong, too. The one he craved, the person he needed, and it was horrible, disgusting, but he said it, and it was wrong.
"Skull."
And it was wrong. Skull was in his dreams – again – and this time, he couldn't be sure. Was this a good dream? Or was it going to hurt this time, was it going to be painful? Because even if he didn't remember after waking, in the dreams he recalled every wretched detail of the last.
He dreamt of good things with Skull. Forbidden, horrible, couldn't take it, wasn't right, but God, he had to dream about them. Couldn't stop his own young, traitorous mind from playing the scenes out, the bittersweet yearning reaching out.
There were the bad ones, though. Harsh words, hatred – the easiest to assume, because Skull showed the most potential there.
This didn't feel like either of those kind of dreams, though. This felt as ripe and rough as reality, although it couldn't possibly be.
Shi shuddered in the stillness of the cold air. Wrapped his arms around himself, tightly, clutching the frozen cloth of his shirt and watching silently as the figure drew closer, gliding across the surface of the ground effortlessly. It was definitely Skull, physically visible now. The flare of his throat glinting hotly as he bowed his head, hands shoved in the dark pockets of his black trench coat.
Shi's engine caught nervously. He didn't like this.
So wrong. So wrong.
Sometimes the dreams were different when he finally shut himself down for another night. There were times they confused him when he bothered to consider their impractical realness, and the strange new order or twist that would accompany the new ones.
There were always new things, different ways, but they always, always ended the same.
He didn't believe in basing your life on a dream. Dreams were merely the workings of a mind's unconscious. There was no truth to them.
Sometimes, though, he couldn't help but think of the silence. The feel of the snow in his back. Touching the soft fabric of his shirt, all something understood, all clear and sharp in his mind, unreliable as it seemed to be.
These were no ordinary dreams, even he knew that. Didn't acknowledge it, but he knew. Shi remained cruelly, even in dealing with dreams, a person of logic and intellect. Knowledge held the power, the final key to everything, restoration of the mind.
He didn't believe in the dreams. They only ruled his sleep.
"Skull." Was it supposed to be this cold, he wondered, in a dream? Was his voice supposed to not be heard, even though he felt like he was screaming the words? It was all Shi could do to resist the urge to bolt, to demand an answer he knew wouldn't come.
And the figure who looked like The Skull but yet wasn't him... who knew if he even had an answer to give.
The snow fell in spades around him, and he wished he could at least hear the sound of "Skull" idling. If it really was The Skull. The figure was before him then, gazing into his eyes, and it seemed all fragmented and ordered at the same time. Like a hopelessly messed up math equation, all the pieces there in their correct formation, but every way it was supposed to go together was shattered.
"Skull?"
The teenager reached for Shi's arm, and it was so wrong. So wrong.
"I... Skull..." And by the time the words were out of Shi's vox, the taller teenager was gripping his arm tightly, fingers like icy clamps just over his elbow. Holding on so tightly that his fingers dug into copper plating, so badly that it hurt and brought sharp tear pricks to Shi's eyes without his permission.
"Sk—"
And then The Skull, the dream Skull of impossibilities, swept down and forced his lipless mouth over Shi's own – taking, demanding, harsh. And there was nothing in him except resistance – the dark eyed teen jerked back away from the Becile's mocking kiss, felt the sharp hiss of pain leave his vox rather than hear it. His arm hurt.
He stepped back, tugging his arm out of Skull's grip quickly, and raised a hand to his sharp mouth. Frowned. Shook his head a few times. It hurt for Shi to think, to breathe, all was silent... so wrong...
"Who are you? What's going on?" he whispered. "You aren't –”
And that was all he said, as Skull's hand reached out with lightening accuracy –
And ripped through his chest.
And the oil fell around in silent streams of slick ebon. And the world of white snow spun softly around Shi's gaze, darkening into nothing. And the face of The Skull, the one he trusted and loved and hated, stared down at him in calm fascination, the most hideous of betrayals. Inevitable.
And yet, for him, Shi’s core, his heart was...
His... and it was...
The snow... was cold...
And even though he couldn't hear it –
Shi started to scream.
He woke.
There was an easy explanation of what the dream could obviously mean – in fact, so many obvious ones that it would not have taken a child to discover them. The fear of betrayal, of pain and rejection. The knowledge of how it would turn out. The unpredictability.
Shi was not a child. Neither was he in any means stupid or blind. If he allowed his head to admit the dreams were starting to become a problem in reality, he could have easily discovered the true root of them all. However, as known, Shi is a creature of logic and reason – and he ignored the dreams with a determination that would have made his father, resolute and so determined to logic, incredibly proud.
It had to stop.
Tomorrow, they graduated; he couldn’t imagine living the rest of his life waking with a scream building in his vocals. Couldn’t bear the idea of this lingering on one more day. He hated the idea of this being left untied, loose, something undone and regrettable.
He turned over on his bed, listening to the reassuring sounds of the frame groaning, his engine rumbling, exhaust hissing. Already the dream was losing its potency, it’s ability to shake, but he hated that his throat still felt tight with the noise he’d dreamed of belting out.
Ok this is really bad and unpolished but I just, I wanted to try my hand again at writing for FH? Especially for Skully cuz I’ve never felt confident in writing any version of him, even this one, but I kinda wanted to tackle the other side of Neoma’s fics? I don’t know man I’m kind of riding the wave here, sorry if it conflicts with headcanons or he’s really out of character. orz
----
Once, when The Skull had been a childform, he had broken the hand of another robot that had pushed Hare into the mud. At the time, he had felt powerful, like a righteous protector, unconquerable when he chose to step in to the affairs of the world around him. That bloom of confidence was quickly stripped away when his father appeared on the scene. It’d be years before Skull understood how what he’d done left his father feeling humiliated, but the anger—the cold, sharp anger and the disapproval in his eyes—that nearly killed Skull then and there.
Ten years later, he got into a fist fight with Shi Carlton at school, and it was like no time had passed at all.
His father, being the vice principal, had sent him home immediately. “We’ll talk later.” Maybe Thadeus knew the waiting would hurt him more than any amount of yelling would. At the time, Skull hadn’t even considered going anywhere else. He just went home and sat in the living room, TV off, staring a dent in his arm plates and thinking I’m an idiot, I’m a goddamn idiot.
Thadeus got home half an hour before school should have let out, likely to cut off Hare and Jacky. He didn’t have to give the order; Skull simply got up and walked into his study, taking the spare seat while Thadeus leaned against the desk, staring him down over his folded arms.
“I’m not going to ask any questions,” Thadeus said quietly. “You’re going to explain to me what happened.”
“He swung first,” Skull muttered, staring at the carpet.
“So I’ve been told.”
Silence.
“He didn’t give me a chance to explain.”
“Then explain it to me.”
Skull balled his fists on his knees. “I…it was misunder--…”
“I don’t even like him. I owe him for fixin’ 'Nessa. He’s an aft, but it’s not like he’s got any other fuckin’ friends, a'right?”
That’s what he’d said to Hare, over a week ago now. He just wouldn’t shut up, joking about Shi being his boyfriend. It rankled on so many levels; the fear, the abhorrence the thought of romance brought up in him, that sick dependence that made even brilliant people like their father turn mad; the suspicion that Shi did like him like that; the potential that that time-bomb would destroy the only friendship he had—
God, he was an idiot. He didn’t know how Carlton had heard what he’d said, maybe Hare had played his words back for him, but he knew that he’d caused this and he was an idiot and Dad knew it too.
Fate intervened, and they tried to ignore it. But Thadeus’ cell phone kept ringing, and on the third round he snatched up and hissed “What,” into the receiver. He paused, then mumbled, “What do you mean you’re in the driveway? I’ve shown you how to—his core?” Thadeus’ fist slammed against the desk’s edge and he swore, shoving the cell back into his pocket. “Walter brought Jack home. He’s having a fit. Stay. There.” And with that, he stormed out of the room.
Jack. In a bizarre twist, he felt a pang of almost-jealousy that even now, when Dad should have been wringing him out, Jack’s problems came first. But it was a chunk in an awful stew of emotions churning inside him, and for a moment Skull just dropped his forehead onto his palms and sat quietly.
Then he panicked.
He couldn’t tell Dad what he’d done. Not now. Even now oil was pulsing in the back of his optics and he couldn’t—would not—
Skull grabbed his car keys and ran for the garage. Vanessa, his precious Vanessa, was waiting for him; she seemed to spring to life as soon as he touched the key to her ignition. They torn backwards out of the drive—Dad was standing in the doorway, shouting something he couldn’t hear.
And he drove away.
No music, no radio, just no thinking, no nothing but driving aimlessly toward the edge of town.
This spot had a nice view. Part of a park or something. Skull pulled over, and leaving the keys in the ignition, got out of the Jeep and sat down next to it, staring out over the city and leaning his head against Vanessa’s chassis, listening to her rumble. It was calming. He was calm.
