#lman

[rozugold]

Ouhgg I like this version of this moment better…

[emvisual]

Es imposible que un hombre aprenda lo que él cree que ya sabe.

-Epicteto

[oh-darling-writer]

Outside the Board

•Slip•

Chess and Lightman do their Weekly cleaning routine… something feels different this time.

~~~

Emotional whump, Intimate Whumper, Non-con touching, Reluctant Whumper, Cleaning.

Hands.

Hands grace the bottom of my monitor. Claws peeking along the side.

Slipping into my mouth.

Inspecting.

A Lampshade set on the bedside table.

The fabric slips away. A shirt unbuttoned. Claws so warm. Placed aside.

A cloth, damp with warm water.

Sliding along my chassis.

He cleans me.

Scuffs and dents washed clean. Claws grazing over the indents in the metal. I tried to keep safe and pristine.

The other bots have a habit of getting physically violent.

“You’re damaged.”

The words slip out so easily from his tongue.

My lips tremble.

Such a heavy set of words. The weight of life or death behind them.

A thousand silent apologies, excuses, pleas, slip out between the screen.

He hums a gentle tone.

Comforting.

He continues to wash my chassis. The rag sliding along my shoulders, between the ridges of my chest panel, through the segments of my torso.

The lights in the room begin to dim.

He’s the one doing it.

A hand lifts me onto his lap for closer inspection.

I am forced to place my hands on his shoulders for balance.

His breath is on my neck as his hands wring the cloth out into a bucket. Wetting it again and swiping it between my neck’s metal segments.

So gentle.

So close.

So wrong.

His breath catches for a moment and his hands cease movement.

I dare process my visual sensors, looking to find the cause of his reluctance.

Oh.

His eyes look up at me.

I look down on him.

It feels…

Redeeming.

A disobedient beep slips out from my voicebox before I even realize.

I immediately shut off my visual process, not wanting to see how Lightman will react to such a mistake.

He exhales. Letting go of whatever emotion caught his attention.

He doesn’t continue his cleaning routine.

Claws move.

Placed onto my hips.

What… is he going to do?

His arms brace beneath my legs. I am lifted out of his lap, placed back onto my charging chair.

I don’t dare process my visuals.

…

…

Silence still.

…

Shuffling of fabric? He’s moving, but where?

…

The door softly shuts. Footsteps grow faint.

He.. left.

My eyes flick back onto my screen, viewing the room around me. The bucket of water and cleaning solution is gone, along with any trace of him.

He left.

…

What just happened?

[geminisync]

Headcanon that Fundy’s astral projecting abilities allow him to see past the mortal plane and see the ghosts of the dead. Or in the SMP’s case, see the ghosts of the canon lives that have perished before.

So basically, he can see himself, the him who died in the control room, the him who still fought bravely for Lmanburg, the him who was betrayed by Eret and hadn’t forgiven him yet.

He could see the Wilbur who he once loved, the father, the brave warrior who fought for Fundy during the independence war, the Wilbur he wanted back.

He could see the Wilbur that died when Schlatt exiled them, the Wilbur that was hurt, confused, scared and focused on running away. The Wilbur who still wasn’t overly paranoid or called Fundy a traitor.

Then, the last Wilbur. Or Ghostbur. Those who have lost all their lives are able to wander the world as a ghost, and that was what happened to Ghostbur. But in the astral plane, where the spirits reside, Ghostbur remembers everything. The WIlbur who wanted to make amends, the Wilbur who wanted to apologize to his son for leaving him alone, for making him think that his father thought of him as a traitor to the end, for choosing Tommy and Tubbo over him, for not fulfilling the promises he had made.

For not being the father he was supposed to be.

Interactions between Amnesiac Ghostbur and Fundy became lesser and lesser, the last time they talked to each other was after Doomsday. And Fundy, left to somewhere undisclosed for an entire year. (not fox years)

In that one year, Fundy healed mentally, met some nice people and met someone who he started to like and it was obvious it was mutual. He met someone akin to a little sister, he met a group of people that became like a second family to him. They met at a casino floating in the middle of a large ocean, and soon, the sister and the one he grew to like moved away and created their own small city, a city of windmills.

In that one year, Fundy tended to astral project more, and thus, talked to the past ghosts a lot more. In that one year, he confronted Schlatt, and told him about the sword he still kept close to him, he confronted Schlatt and told him how Schlatt was starting to feel like a father to him until the festival happened.

He confronted Wilbur, and though they had many shouting fests, those started to lessen the more they talked. And soon, Fundy felt that he had his father back, though only in the astral plane, it was more than enough.

He was having fun in the land of windmills, he was going on dates with a certain plant hybrid, he was playing around with his newfound sister, he was hanging out with his new friends and family, he was having an actual parental relationship with Wilbur through the astral plane, even making amends with Schlatt who also became like a second father to him, especially now that his mind wasn’t addled with alcohol.

And his return to the SMP, though was once again ignored by the others, as per usual, it was bearable, because he had Wilbur now, he had Schlatt now, he was writing everyday to those in the floating casino and those in the land of windmills. 

But unlike in the land of windmills and at the floating casino, where he usually only astral projected when everyone else was asleep, allowing his physical body to rest while his spirit walked, in the SMP, he astral projected almost every second of the day.

It got to the point where people would find his body just sitting there, unconscious, but still as a statue, heart beat slow. Sometimes they would panic thinking he was dead, but a single impact to the body sent his spirit spiraling in annoyance.

In the SMP, he didn’t like interacting with the others, save for Eret and that new guy, Foolish, maybe even Puffy who had changed a lot from the woman who mocked him for being an orphan by building a crude orphanage sign and walls over his former house. So he spent his time in the astral plane, where he didn’t even need to eat or drink.

Ranboo and Phil would see him, Tubbo would find him, sometimes even Technoblade, and sooner or later, he learnt to hide himself before projecting and periodically splash an invisibility potion over him. Ranboo wanted to apologize for the last time, but Fundy..... Fundy was never there anymore, was he?

Philza was conflicted, he despised his grandson at first, but when seeing him like this, it made him feel a bit sad and guilty because he had ignored all the letters Fundy had sent.

The last one he had sent was..... oh, 7 months ago......

Technoblade was curious, a new ability? But after following Fundy around for days, seeing how he was treated and how he was ignored as usual, and often turning to astral projection to be happy, he wanted to get to know the fox. Be there for him, give him random golden apples.

But again, Fundy never stayed in the physical plane for long if Eret or Foolish wasn’t there anyway.

After a few months, when people wanted to interrupt his astral walk without good reason, they would find Eret or Foolish lurking close by. And when neither of them were there, they would be surprised to find Technoblade driving them away.

A hybrid with trust issues, that wanted to be alone and never got the chance to? Yeah, he could completely relate with that. And besides, Fundy was only following orders back then wasn’t he? He even said sorry to Phil during the house arrest, and they all brushed it off as a joke.

And when Wilbur was resurrected? He did all he could to make amends again in the physical plane, but their time during the astral plane was more than enough, and when Fundy decided enough was enough and left the SMP to return to the land of windmills? Wilbur decided to follow, decided to finally be a good father to his son.

[lottelomo]

Redrew this thing i made almost a year ago

[thegrimllama]

nothing boosts a mood more that your (almost) 7 year old dragging you away from the housework so you can dance to This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things.

[rozugold]

you never get a say

[oh-darling-writer]

•Quick Repairs•

Ras need Lightman’s help in fixing up a small malfunction.

Prompt from RaR-Anon!

~~~

“Broken again Raspberry?”

The large Objecthead sighed from atop his desk. The Raspberry bot sitting anxiously in the seat across the room looked up with a nervous smile and simply nodded.

Lightman tapped his fingers on the desk slowly, letting each one fall with a clack.

“What happened this time? Speak.”

Ras sat up a little taller.

“I-I was simply eating my lunch in t-the cafeteria! One of those delinquent bots must have s-spilled all over the floor, Sir. I slipped! Landed r-right on my audio processor.”

A frown graced the Lamphead’s face. He rose from his desk, eyes unmoving from his robot in front of him as he moved around his desk.

A large set of claws gripped Ras’ shoulder as Lightman walked past. The other set reached to the door handle and twisted the lock. Magic sparked up Ras’ back at the contact and he sat up tensely. He exhaled an anticipating breath, waiting for the lights to dim.

Just like every time, Lightman worked his magic. He rolled his eyes and dimmed the lights, taking his claws and grasping around the figure of the small bot.

“Allow me to inspect your monitor then, Raspberry.”

“Y-yes Sir!”

Ras felt himself being hoisted into Lightman’s arms and he wrapped his legs around the Objecthead’s torso for balance.

With a firm grip, Lightman set the bot onto his cleared desk. He made sure to keep it neat and tidy in case any emergency fixes like this were needed.

“Raspberry, lay flat and remove your headwear,” his firm, commanding tone rang out. Ras immediately complied, grasping his hat in his hands and laying the back of his monitor onto the table.

He heard distorted shuffling out of his left audio processor. Lightman was busying himself with grabbing his toolkit atop his shelf. He liked to keep it neat and pristine, always on display between his many lighting fixtures.

“Now, Raspberry, I know you are familiar with these operations,” the Objecthead said, setting the toolkit down heavily beside Ras’ head. He began to take off his outer suit and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt.

Ras felt his processors begin to click away faster, his cooling fans whirring on at the sight of his boss like this.

“Try not to.. make quite as much noise as last time. I don’t want any other of my robots to believe I am harming you,” he growled out.

The magic in Ras’ body started to buzz inside of him, anticipating the feeling of what was to come.

“Now, turn off your audio processors.”

Lightman cleared his throat, and with that, he clicked open his toolkit.

A sleek screwdriver was pulled out, examined between large black claws, and Lightman nodded in approval. He splayed one hand across Ras’ monitor, obscuring his vision and accidentally grazing his lips. The other hand took the screwdriver and popped off the heart tab, revealing the screws holding the fixture in place.

Even though Ras could not “hear” what was occuring, he still felt each and every vibration of the screwdriver and Lightman’s claws across his monitor.

And to Ras, it felt like Heaven to be basking in Lightman’s attention like this.

As the operation went on and his casing removed, Ras’ breathing got heavier and more hitched. Lightman muttered a few “ah’s” and “mhm’s” as he observed the wires now exposed to him.

The screwdriver was gently placed back into the toolkit. Lightman’s claws would do the trick from here.

A single claw was inserted into the gap of Ras’ exposed audio processor. It grazed along the many wires connecting each piece of electrical board.

“Ahh- Sir!” Ras gasped out from under Lightman’s claw. The only response Lightman gave was a dismissive cough before he went back to looking at the wires.

“Ah, Raspberry. I have identified your little error,” he drawled out, lighting up the tips of his claws to provide him a clearer view, “You’ve knocked a few wires out of place.”

Ras’ eyes looked up to him, a gentle confusion on them as he spoke.

“Oh. Yes, right. You cannot hear me.”

He looked down at Ras in contemplation, then decided to give a satisfied smile in an attempt to convey his success.

A blush spread across Ras’ screen at the display of such an emotion. He gripped his hat a little tighter, trying to stay calm.

“Now then. Let’s get started.”

A pair of pliers was pulled from the toolkit. Polished and silver, it glinted against the glow of Lightman’s claws.

A single plug of a wire was isolated and gripped by the pliers, inciting a low beeping tone from the robot below him. Lightman shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the feeling of such a sound.

He carefully maneuvered it back into its socket, having to tug and push on the wire for it to be inserted correctly.

This time Ras couldn’t help but let out a loud moan at the feeling. It was so much for his sensitive wires.

Panicking at the volume, Lightman took his hand and shoved his fingers into Ras’ mouth to attempt to muffle the noise. Ras gagged around the claws suddenly in his throat, eyes watering as his tongue was forced between them.

“A-almost done my Robot. Then I can release you,” Lightman quickly blurted out, flustered from his actions.

He clamped the last wire between the pliers and inserted it into its rightful spot. He dropped the pliers not so gracefully into the toolkit as Ras moaned a sweet, aching noise between his fingers, wet magic twining between Lightman’s claws.

Quickly, he pulled them out of Ras’ mouth, wiping the magic saliva across his tie without thought. The robot beneath his panted heavily at the access of air. His whole body was shaking in pleasure.

Before his trousers could feel any more tense, Lightman hastily worked Rasberry’s casing back onto his monitor with a grunt.

“You have to hold still Raspberry,” he growled frustratedly, placing his once-wet hand onto Ras’ screen again.

Now that his hand was pushing the robot in place, he could easily work on getting the screws into the casing and popping in the heart-shaped tab.

He wrenched both hands away from Ras as soon as he was done. The robot lay there, still winding down from the pleasure he felt.

Lightman quickly snapped his fingers in front of Ras’ eyes, signalling him to turn his hearing back on.

“Thank you Lightman Sir!” Ras shakily beeped out, a glowing smile on his face.

“Yes… now gather your things and return to your room. I hope I do not see you damaged anytime soon. That would be.. disappointing.”

With the order given, Ras put his hat back onto his head and sweeped his legs over the desk. He felt the urge to reach out and brush the wet spot on Lightman’s tie, but hesitated.

Instead he hopped off the tall desk and fumbled to unlock the door, walking out with a grin.

Within the room, Lightman tidied up his toolbox, wiping up the small pool of magic that must have dripped out of Rasberry’s mouth.

He groaned a frustrated sound before sitting behind his desk, taking care of something he would never admit to.