"It is time to stop talking."

Almost immediately does the girl still in her tracks, expression frozen into a compliant smile. She doesn't move. Doesn't twitch. Doesn't even need to turn around to know who it was.

Well then! Looks like shut-up-o'clock has arrived!

Who the hell is making Rock so distressed?

...

...Ah.

Normally, in situations like these, Red would be inclined to offer comfort, letting Blues speak on the matter as much as he wanted. Letting the prototype know that Red was there for him. And while the desire to give comfort was ever present, these were not exactly normal circumstances. Red was a little too buzzed to do and say exactly as he wanted.

There’s a long pause, Red fighting through a short wave of fuzziness before a hand lands on Blues’ shoulder (with perhaps a tad more force than intended). If Blues were to look up, he would see Red momentarily start mouthing a number of different words before his mouth finally closes. He taps the table absentmindedly.

He didn’t have the right state of mind to say the right things. There wasn’t exactly a ‘right’ thing to say to that anyways. “Fuck,” he says as if he’s saying something comforting. A pause. “I think I said that out loud.”

He watches the shot glass between the two of them a second before he finds his voice again with some delay.

Conflict laced the form of the figure standing before a shrine. It wasn't clear that the surface was a shrine -- looking more like a small, cozy, modest dining table -- or even what the deity it was connected to was supposed to represent, but they knew.

Blues always knew.

They bit their lip, hard enough to split the artificial skin.

...No. It was different. He was different. He wasn't cold laboratory lights and lies and terror and pain gripping their chest like a cage. To Rock, Xanti, and Psi, he was different. He was safe.

He was... a home.

Still, even laying their hand on the shrine left Blues' teeth clenching involuntarily. They didn't linger long.

But to the god with the sad, tired smile, to the god of a place to call home, Blues left one thing:

A worn book, its pages soft and well-loved with the passing of time, with the name "Thomas Light" written carefully on the inside of the cover.

If my Muse was a Deity, what Offerings Would you Leave at Their Shrine? My muse will react to whatever items you leave for them

This place is only a shrine to a select few. To those built by certain hands-- the same hands across so many worlds. Hands that build and shape again and again, as if compelled to create in every time, in every place.

In that way, it is the dwelling of a deity. A creator. A God.

A man.

A worn book sits on Tom's dining room table, amongst the clutter of various to-dos, and half projects. It hadn't been there last night, but it is no cause for alarm. It's not unusual for his children to leave him things in their comings and goings.

Aside from Xanti, most might stop by to check in without actually saying hello. Sometimes, there isn't time to socialize. Sometimes they leave him to sleep if the hour is already late.

Still they add things to the dining room table, to the kitchen counter tops, to the walls. Sometimes it's photos-- company for a man who can't travel, can't keep up as the years add on. Sometimes it's puzzles and trinkets, gifts to occupy his time when he's at a creative roadblock. Sometimes it's food, ingredients for a dinner they know he'd skip for work, ready made meals to really drive the point home, dad.

...and sometimes, it's a book. Always a personal choice, that one. An unspoken connection. A hope that he'll enjoy whatever is between the pages. That they thought of him, maybe even read the text themselves before passing it along. A secret bond between the two of them, a shared memory in inked paper.

It's to Tom's surprise that when he picks up the old tome, the handwriting inside doesn't belong to one of the boys. He'd grown so accustomed to their unique styles with so many missed visits like this. There is no note to accompany the well loved book, however, only a name. His name, etched carefully inside.

Yes I’m still drawing protoman, yes all three of them are protoman, no they’re not the same person, yes they are the same person

STAR MAN my sweet ditzy boy!!

First of all, 100% my favorite 5th, so you’re in luck

Secondly, I need to establish a very important headcanon I haven’t previously mentioned about the Fifths

Nobody but the Lights (and Cossacks) know who they are. Given everyone falls for the Dark Man Proto Man disguise in Burning Wheel, and Wily doesn’t even mention it in his plan, Ariga’s MM5 had nothing to do with Proto Man and therefore likely didn’t feature a castle. It was just a situation where they led Rock to a random location and ambushed him. It was not publicized whatsoever. The WRA can assume Wily has another line of 8 Robot Masters based on his numbering, but the 5ths aren’t actually registered with any identifying information because Rock never reported them. He was going to, but when the Fifths proved to not only be pacified, but actually weirdly protective of humans? Rock decided to leave them be. The public doesn’t even know MM5 happened, they think Wily went straight from blackmailing Cossack to impersonating a WRA official.

So Star and his brothers have a very special immunity of not being officially branded as a Wilybots

Contrary to most of his siblings, Star finds humans utterly adorable. He’s worked customer service, do not get him wrong, he has seen some shit, but he’s also seen a lot more of human kindness than the rest of them too. He has a surprisingly similar opinion to Rock, actually, in that thinks humans are, fundamentally, pretty okay over all. He tends to think of them, or at least the ones he’s working with, like subunits. Cute little things that need some guidance and a lot of protection, but just want to do their jobs (read: live their lives) like anyone else. He doesn’t have the three laws, he’s not doing anything out of obligation, he genuinely does just care.

He’s also not the most. . . aware? He’s a little oblivious and doesn’t always get the memo. Actually, I like that you pointed out that his Star Crash is practically invincible, because I think that does contribute to how he thinks. Star Man, as most Wilybots, didn’t particularly fear death prior to the Stardroid disaster, but he still maintains that sort of thoughtless confidence after the fact. Partially because they won. Star, ever the idealist, seeing that they defeated this eldritch horror that feeds on negativity through the power of love and friendship? Absolutely solidified in his mind that they can achieve anything if they believe hard enough. But also because Star can’t really be damaged as long as his shield is around him. Being invulnerable half the time and being built to explore airless voids means he doesn’t think about dodging or getting hurt all that often, hence often comically getting hit in the face throughout the manga because it just doesn’t occur to his systems that he should move.

Send your character's height and I'll compare it to mine.

"....."