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steeloptic · 7 days

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maxwell and wx-78 for the fic requests? they r funny . to me . and its also mine and @steeloptic's mains

The caves, for what they are, can be a very serene place.

In the fields where the spiral staircases lead to their depths, rarely (if ever) do the horrors of the deeper areas show themselves.

In the Bunnyman villages, all are welcome so long as they respect the customs of the inhabitants.

Even in the more dangerous areas, like the Lunar Grotto, serenity can be found in one's reflection in the waterfalls.

The Ruins can even be pleasant, provided you choose the right time to visit them.

Unfortunately for our two survivors, they picked the worst time.

“IF YOUR SHADOW FREAK AIMS FOR ME AGAIN, I WILL PERSONALLY REMOVE ALL OF YOUR LIMBS,” remarks WX-78, dodging a horde of shadow Splumonkeys.

“Perhaps if you stopped getting in the way, they wouldn't mistake you for an enemy. You're quite visually similar to the broken clockworks we faced back there,” retorts Maxwell, rapidly flipping through the pages of his precious Codex Umbra to summon another one of his, ahem, freaks.

The floor shakes, emitting a red glare through the cracks in the floor, and expels yet another wave of nightmare creatures. This time, it brings forth two Terrorbeaks.

“WE WOULD NOT BE IN THIS PREDICAMENT IF YOU KNEW HOW TO READ A MAP, CARTER,” WX-78 hisses as one of them scratches a sizable dent into their arm. “HERE I THOUGHT YOU CREATED THIS PLACE. EVIDENTLY, YOU ARE TOO OLD TO REMEMBER ANYTHING RIGHT.”

“For the last time, you - ack - hunk of scrap metal, I didn't make everything here! And we are right where you wanted to be,” Maxwell fires back, flinching away from a Crawling Horror that nearly got a hit in.

“YOU DID NOT TELL ME WHAT LIVES HERE, YOU WRETCHED SENIOR CITIZEN!”

WX-78’s tentacle spike breaks into pieces upon contact with the same Crawling Horror. It dissipates and reappears all in the same instant as they reach for their spear.

“I did not feel the need to. But by all means, persecute me for assuming that you knew what the Ruins actually were!”

Maxwell’s Duelists, in sync, slash at the row of primates in front of them.

They howl.

“I told you that we needed to wait, but what did you do instead? Ran ahead, like a young child into a candy store.”

Maxwell barely dodges a Terrorbeak’s screeching swipe.

“You simply could not wait the one hour it would have taken for the Nightmare Cycle to end! You reap what you sow, robot.”

The Nightmare Lights glow even brighter, symbolizing the crest of the cycle.

WX-78 continues to stab at the shadow creatures, even as they are outnumbered six-to-one.

Maxwell grabs WX-78 by the arm. They release a garbled shout, and he belatedly realizes that he's grabbed their injured arm.

He considers feeling remorse for it…

…and ultimately decides it's not necessary. A lot more damage could be done if the two of them stay here, he reasons.

He drags them by the arm, running, while they thrash and kick in retaliation. (One or two of them lands, and well, metal is metal, even if it's sentient.)

After a while, WX-78 rips their arm from his grasp.

“DO NOT TOUCH ME. IF I WANTED YOUR OLD MAN SWEAT ON ME, I WOULD ASK,” they say, putting a sizable distance between the two.

Maxwell stays silent.

When they finally reach a peaceful outcropping, Maxwell releases a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“Are you happy now? Did you get what you wanted, pal?”

“AS A MATTER OF FACT, I DID,” they say, opening their backpack and showing him the inside.

Heaps of gears and nightmare fuel fall onto the ground, and with it, Maxwell’s jaw.

Metaphorically, of course. A gentleman won't be caught making a face like that.

“And just when did you have the time to get all of that?”

“WE WERE FIGHTING THEM EARLIER. IT SEEMS YOUR MEMORY IS FAILING YOU AGAIN,” WX-78 says, no humor lacing their monotone voice despite the implication.

“Yes, well, I was just a tad too occupied with trying to ensure our survival to stop and pick up loot. Excuse me if I thought you were doing the same.”

“WE WOULD HAVE GOTTEN MORE IF YOU DID NOT DRAG ME AWAY. I COULD HAVE WON,” they say, mayhaps just a tad overconfident.

“Well, then. Hand the nightmare fuel over. You know our deal,” Maxwell says, choosing to brush over the lie. He sticks a hand out expectantly.

“I COLLECTED THESE THINGS,” WX-78 says, scooping all of the precious resources back into their backpack. “YOU HAD THE SAME OPPORTUNITY THAT I DID. THESE ARE MINE.”

“What?” he asks, although it’s more of a statement. “I was busy trying to make sure we stayed alive, because you were so preoccupied with fighting that you weren’t protecting yourself!”

“I CAN DEFEND MYSELF JUST FINE!” they say, raising their voice. It echoes around the walls of the cave.

He grabs their arm, right where the injury is, and holds it up to prove a point. They flinch hard, and a small noise of protest escapes their vocal synthesizer.

“Try harder then, pal.”

Maxwell barely has a second to react before a metal fist connects with his jaw.

He lets go of their other arm in retaliation and strikes back quickly, but immediately realizes that punching someone made entirely of metal is ineffective. He pulls his hand back, shaking it a few times.

“WHAT WILL YOU DO NOW? SUMMON YOUR SHADOW COPIES AND HAVE THEM DO YOUR WORK FOR YOU?”

“You wouldn't live if that happened, pal,” he says, tenderly cradling his jaw. He backs up a few steps and charges forward with the intent to shove WX-78 over, so they can get a real piece of his mind.

Unfortunately for him, he failed to consider that he is.. older than most, and that it is a robot made of metal that he's trying to push over.

This laughable attempt is marked with no movement on their end.

“THANK YOU FOR THE IDEA, MAXWELL THE GREAT,” says WX-78, and they push him back with one hand. He falls to the ground with his limbs sprawled out, unable to resist even a light push from them.

In an instant, WX-78 is straddling his waist.

Curse this frail body! Thinks Maxwell, struggling to get out from under their dense metal body.

What they don't have on him in height, they have on him in.. nearly everything else. Weight, strength, and although he hates to admit it, intelligence. (A man can't be expected to know as much as a motherboard can; that's just unreasonable!)

When they raise a fist to throw another nasty-looking punch, their arm is caught by a Shadow Duelist before they can release it.

“I believe you'd best get off of me,” Maxwell remarks, and the Duelist brandishes a sword just within their field of view.

There are few things that Maxwell Carter is good at, but magic is one of those things.

“WHAT DID I SAY? YOU ARE BRINGING YOUR SHADOW MAGIC INTO THIS, BECAUSE YOU KNOW YOU CANNOT WIN ON YOUR OWN,” they say, grinning, even when totally at the mercy of the Duelist.

“One of my Duelists could end you in a minute flat,” Maxwell says with a smirk, but it quickly falls. “But look. Now’s really not the time for this.”

“AND WHY IS THAT? NOBODY ELSE IS HERE TO STOP US. IT IS THE PERFECT–”

“If you would be so kind as to shut up and pay attention to your surroundings for ten seconds, you would understand,” he interrupts.

The expected silence to follow is replaced with the gentle sounds of water falling from the ceiling onto the floors of the caves.

“I believe that, for your sake, mayhaps we should keep moving,” Maxwell says.

WX-78 seems to deliberate on it for a few moments.

“HM. THIS IS NOT OVER,” they say, and Maxwell calls his Shadow Duelist off.

WX-78 stands up and steps over him. He gets up and brushes himself off, muttering under his breath.

“You do have an umbrella, yes?”

“WHY WOULD I HAVE AN UMBRELLA? IT IS NOT SPRING.”

“You are, essentially, allergic to water. You should really carry one at all times, especially in a season where rain is possible. Like, oh, I don't know, this one?”

They say nothing, choosing instead to walk away.

The two make their way back to the spiral staircase that they entered the caves from. The rain steadily picks up, and eventually Maxwell takes his jacket off and holds it over his head. He beckons for them to join him.

“AND JUST WHY SHOULD I STAND CLOSER TO YOU?” They ask, punctuated with an ill-timed twitch and electrical spark emitting from their eye.

After a moment, they begrudgingly step under the cover of the jacket.

This doesn't mean they don't argue, though.

“FEEL LUCKY THAT IT IS RAINING, FLESHSACK. I COULD KILL YOU IN AN INSTANT,” they say, trying desperately not to make physical contact with him under the cover.

“Sure, pal. One of my Puppets could kill you easily right now.”

“NOT IF I KILL-ILL YOU FIRST,” says WX-78, their voicebox beginning to malfunction.

“How about you try that again without stuttering, hm?”

“I CAN-CANNOT WAIT TO SEE HOW YOU LOOK WHEN YOU ARE DEAD,” they say, intimidating despite the stutter.

Despite this, Maxwell smirks.

“Let's settle it, then. Once the rain stops, we can–” he would go on, but it's then he notices that the rain has already stopped.

An awkward silence ensues, and after a brief moment, WX-78 steps away from him in one large stride.

Both talk at once.

“You know, the others might ask where you are and–”

“BODY DISPOSAL IS TIME CONSUMING AND MESSY–”

They both look off to the side, the silence only broken by WX-78’s sparking.

“It's settled, then?” Maxwell asks, and they nod begrudgingly.

Maxwell visibly relaxes and rummages around in his backpack for something. After a moment, he places some wet kindling on the ground.

WX-78 watches as he tries repeatedly to light the fire with a piece of flint.

“GIVE-IVE IT TO ME,” they say, swiping it from his hand and trying it their way. Still, they have no luck until a particularly nasty spark from inside of their chassis lands on the charcoal.

The fire springs up immediately.

“Well, that's one way to do it,” muses Maxwell, taking his flint back.

The two of them dry off. Maxwell gives WX-78 the jerky he has on his person, hoping that it’ll prevent them from rusting away before they can properly heal themself.

They eat it, pointedly avoiding eye contact, and the two of them sit in the near-silence of the caves once again.

Once they leave the caves and return to the camp, they go their separate ways for several days.

One day, WX-78 finds Maxwell outside of their tent.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” they ask, pretending to examine their hand.

“I wanted to.. apologize for my behavior the other day. It was quite improper of me,” he says, holding out a tiny bag to them.

They take it and look inside to find a single, but rather large gear. A moment passes.

“AS YOU SHOULD. I WILL FORGIVE YOU THIS TIME, BUT WATCH YOURSELF IN THE FUTURE.”

Maxwell is surprised when they abruptly walk into their tent. After a moment, they come out with a handful of nightmare fuel.

They drop it at his feet.

"..YOUR CODEX SERVES A PURPOSE, MINION. USE THIS WISELY.”

He smiles, but it looks fake.

“I'm glad we're on amicable terms again, then, because Miss Wickerbottom wants us going back there to get supplies for the whole camp tomorrow.”

WX-78 groans and retreats into their tent, closing the flap with a rough tug.

Maxwell chuckles, picking up the nightmare fuel and walking towards his own tent.

Let’s hope it goes a little better this time…

#this FUCKS!!!!! /pos #teehee #dont starve

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