#I had no sense of robot when I was a kid

[theartlockerlocked]

Me:

[al-luviec]

id like to thank ninjago episode snake jaguar for everything but nothing all at the same time

[mrdrhenwardhykle]

Non FNAF old Scott Cawthon art style appreciation post

[welcometogrouchland]

Bee and puppycat lazy in space I love you so so much it's not even funny

[yanmuffins]

waiter! waiter! more phineas and ferb reader pls!

I wonder how the batfam would react once they catch reader inventions on a random tuesday, like, "hm, what a nice day to look out on the window and HOLY SHIT WHY IS THERE A GIANT ROBOT SPITING FIRE WHILE RIDING A ROLLERCOASTER IN MY BACKYARD???"

the events that would follow this incident would be funny and exasperating, me thinks

also, wouldn't it be funnier if Perry the Platypus was part of the JL? and like, no one knows his identity but Superman, and neither of them are willing to talk about it-

I know it would be very unlikely, since everyone there would have enough neurons to recognize a platypus with and without a hat, but for the sake of shit and giggles, just think of how funny that would be

welp, I needed to get that outta ma chest, I hope I at least made you laugh a little, because seriously this is one of the best ideas I've seen in this tag and I can't stop thinking and giggling about it

Stay well!

context.

first: i was not expecting this concept to be so popular!! the responses i've gotten from everyone are so amazing!!  ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) thank you for the ask, anon!! it always makes my day.

i am formally announcing that i will be turning phineas and ferb reader into a fic now. it's too good a concept to pass up. something more light-hearted to work between the other fics i'm writing.

batfamily finding out about reader's whacky inventions would be an event. it so wholeheartedly shatters the image they had of reader to the point they just have to sit with what the hell just happened for a while before they even consider what to do about you next. still so many things that don't make sense. their newest case is how the fuck did we go this long without finding out (Y/N) has been building mechas in our backyard and why are those things always gone when it's convenient.

then the realizations just start dropping on them like an anvil on a looney tunes character. and they kinda feel like shit, cause how did they not notice? really puts into perspective how they've neglected you all this time. so many stunts you pulled right under their nose, on their backyard, their garage, throughout gotham and metropolis. ok, were out there being creative and amazing and you sure know how to spend the wayne family money, they'll give you that, but it was so irresponsible of you! who knows what could've gone wrong. you're not like them! you're a civilian with no training, the only regular teenager in the family, you're the last person who should be exposing themselves doing all that.

bruce goes off on you, screaming about how could you be so reckless, you did all of this behind his back– what? what do you mean he gave his permission? and he is floored, devastated, blood pressure up, when you remind him of every instance you dropped by his office with a document for him to sign or to ask for permission, with proof as you pull out every paper he put his signature without a second look.

and that, ladies and gentlemen, is when reader's dynamic with the batfam does a complete 180 and their little yandere antennae start going off. no more whacky cartoonish shenanigans. at least not without proper supervision. they know you're not a fan of this new arrangement, but you gotta understand they let you go unchecked for way too long! they'll drown you in family activities so you don't even have to worry about it. who wants to build a teleportation machine, anyway? just join them for family movie night.

as for perry, that is going to take them a while longer to figure out. bruce just can't stand another insane discovery, so when batman sees an intelligent platypus wearing a fedora and walking on two feet on justice league headquarters (if we're going by the idea that he's a part of JL), he's just going to think "my kid has a pet platypus. huh."

oh, consider:

dick: "damian, you knew all this time?! our sibling could've gotten into serious trouble! why didn't you tell us about this?"

damian: stares into the camera like he's in the office.

[brucewaynehater101]

Android Tim Drake AU:

Drake Industries announced they had successfully created realistic-looking androids that passed the Turing Test (and harder versions of it). They were planning to release commercial models to the public within twenty years.

To go a step farther, the Drakes wanted to ensure no one was skeptical of the androids' abilities to pass as human. Thus, Janet and Jack Drake had a healthy "human" baby by the name of Timothy Jackson Drake. The only individuals aware of this are Tim, Janet, Jack, and a small handful of engineers bound with a fuck ton of NDAs. They planned to tell the public when Tim was eighteen.

While Janet and Jack Drake are aware of Tim's ability to mimic emotions, they do not believe him to be capable of actually feeling them. This leads to Tim's childhood being lonely and neglectful. He is a robot.

At first, Tim is incapable of consuming human foods or using his touch sense. They fix his touch sense by the time he is four (and thus Dick is his first hug), and the food by the time he is six. He is constantly undergoing repairs to allow him to mimic the growth pattern of a child. It's when he is nine that he finally gets pain sensors to discourage and alert him to damage.

Tim is, for all intents and purposes, legally a human. When Janet dies and Jack gets into a coma, Tim stops receiving "growth spurts." He remains the same size even after Jack wakes up from his coma.

When Tim becomes Robin, he does not disclose his status with Bruce, Dick, or anyone else. Given that his parents treat him like an object, a machine, and incapable of feelings, Tim doesn't want to be subjected to that by his heroes either.

Instead, he gaslights the hell out of the Bats, villains, and other heroes whenever he gets hit.

["Tim! You got flung into a building. You are getting a medical exam."

Tim narrows his eyes as his eyebrows raise in surprise. "Bruce.... what are you talking about?"

"I saw you get thrown into a building. You're not getting out of this."

Tim glances to the side and then back to his mentor. He carefully places a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "B... Maybe we should have Alfred check you over."

Bruce blinks in shock as his brows furrow. "What?"

Tim purses his lips and shakes his head in pity. "It's okay, B. We'll figure it out. Whatever is going on, we'll fix it."

Bruce is so confused and concerned he doesn't ask Tim to get a medical check and agrees to be checked over instead.]

Tim becomes an expert at repairing himself because he can't explain to the engineers (most of who were let go after Janet died) how he got damaged. He spends a lot of nights alone in his room turning off his pain sensors (which isn't an automatic process and is difficult to reach)in order to fix the mangled hand, the gaping gash, the crooked foot, etc.

Kon, and conversely YJ, are the first to find out about his status (darn x-ray vision and super hearing). This encourages Tim to create artificial sounds within himself to fool Superman when they first meet. This also forces Tim to wear a long-sleeved uniform and a hood to hide from x-ray vision.

Tim finds comradery with Red Tornado.

When Jack wakes up from his coma, he originally treats Tim as he did before: an object. Dana, though, changes this. Jack can't explain why he treats his "son" that way and slowly morphs into becoming a good father.

It starts as only occurring when Dana is in the room and ends with a very bitter and antagonistic Jack when she leaves. He is initially disturbed by how much Tim is "faking" emotions, particularly because Tim learned to conceal his emotions from his parents as a coping mechanism (not that Jack knows this).

As they start spending more and more time together, Jack begins accepting the idea that Tim is capable of emotions. He starts caring and loving the kid as his own.

Because of this, Jack becomes fearful for Tim. When he learns that Tim is Robin, he is both jealous of Bruce's relationship with Tim and absolutely terrified for his son (what happens if people find out that Tim is an android? How would they treat him? Tim told Jack the Waynes don't know about his status. What if Tim gets injured too badly during a mission and they find out?)

This is why Jack initially forbids Tim from being Robin. There is way too much at stake for Tim if he continues (even though, theoretically, Tim can't die. Jack can keep saves of Tim and import him into a new body if necessary. They both don't want to do this, however, because Tim's body is his. It would feel weird and wrong to put him in another one).

While Tim is prohibited from being Robin, Jack bankrupts his company in the process of getting Tim rights. He bribes the hell out of judges, law makers, etc. to subtly put I'm rights for androids. He wants Tim to have full access to his inheritance, to freedom, and to everything humans can do. He doesn't want Tim to be without it.

Tim doesn't understand why Drake Industries is going under and is pissed at Jack for preventing him from being Robin. Robin is everything to Tim. It allows him to be treated as human. It connects him to so many people.

It's only afterwards, when Tim is finally allowed to be Robin again (and Jack has ensured he did everything he could for now for Tim's rights), that Tim fully understands how much Jack loves and cares for him.

Then Jack dies.

Tim is able to hide the fact that he's an android up until a Red Helmet asshole breaks into the Tower. While YJ whisk him away before the Bats can find out, Jason knows. Jason found out.

[devotedlystrangewizard]

i have such strong memories related to black sails like. it was my mom's birthday. during a weekend. think 2018/2019. we went away for the weekend to this. place. idk what its called in english but yk rent a tiny house for like a few days. whatever. i can remember what it looked like. i sat on that couch watching black sails. my sister and i had to share a room and i managed to break the bed (not permanently) i had to sleep on & because even after fixing it i didnt trust it, i slept on the floor. it was on that floor that i watched s2 of black sails. it was on that floor that i saw that fucking scene that fundamentally changed me as a person. because. listen. black sails was one of the first shows id watched with a queer story. with not one but two major plot threads revolving around queer people's relationships. i remember sitting in the car in the dark as the rest of my family was ordering fries for us and i remember my mom going "hey look gay couple!" in a restaurant. it doesnt feel real. that entire weekend is a fever dream. i thought i was just watching a pirate show. the pirates were gay. the pirates were fucking gay bro. i cried over that show. i wept at the end of it. i had to play boardgames for my mom's birthday and pretend like i wasnt going insane because the pirates were gay and i was just. ough. i was 14 or 15 and i was barely out and i was new to being queer in any capacity and it was such an experience.

[a-passing-storm]

I started watching the Terminator movies, and I... meh. Terminator 1 was Not That Interesting to me, and Terminator 2 had a better premise (imo), but it just... none of it Sits Well with me. (My issue is I’m comparing it to the Matrix.) (I typed this all in the tags but I think I passed the tag limit so that sucks.)

[nvuy]

nuvy. nuvy have you heard of the boothill leaks.

YES i did *salutes*

boothill story leaks under cut;

girl dad girl dad

soooo what about boothill falling in love with a single parent with a daughter hmm hmm

like god if he doesn’t just accidently run into the kid and she squeals over him because “hey!! cool robot man!!” and you chase her down and apologise.

he freezes, because your daughter looks so much like his did.

same hair colour, same eye colour, same energy that he could barely keep up with, just learning to walk on two feet properly and string together words to form simple sentences.

it absolutely destroys him. in the worst and best way possible. especially since your daughter practically develops an admiration for him on the spot, begs to be carried, and you’re confused because “sweetie, you shouldn’t be talking to strangers.”

like like.,,,, example……..

Something small and warm wraps around his hand and Boothill glances up quickly from his lap.

There was a little girl searching for his fingers, barely three years old by the looks of it. Pretty tresses of black hair flowing in the wind near the shoreline, sniffling and barely standing on short wobbly legs.

“I need help,” she hiccups, and Boothill melts on the spot. So small and helpless, like a baby bird away from its mother’s nest. “I can’t find my–”

And of course, he stands up, dusts off his pants, and offers her his hand. He guides her away from the beach back towards the market where crowds of people swarm the stalls.

It’s nighttime, cold, and definitely no place for a little girl to be by herself.

“What’s your parents look like, princess?”

He busies himself searching for any targets that would make sense given the girl’s prattling of your appearance down to the colour of your shoes—“White. Like mine.” Hers light up purple with each step she takes—too many faces, too many people.

He stands to give up when he hears somebody frantically running around like a lunatic to every single store, asking if they’ve seen a little girl with light up sneakers wandering about.

“Calm down. I’m sure she’s around here somewhere,” he heard one of the assistants try.

Another shopkeeper offers a pitiful frown and shakes their head.

Boothill nudges the girl, squeezing her small hand in his, careful of his strength around fragile bones. “Is that them?”

She quickly wipes the tears from her face. She then nods and takes off into a sprint to lunge at you, still sobbing when she wraps her arms around your leg.

You sigh in relief and scoop her up into your arms.

Boothill then has an entire conundrum in the middle of the market square. For one, your daughter is waving him over with a smile on her face. Two, you looked like you were about two seconds away from passing out in shock. Your clothes are askew, hair a mess, face flushed and yet simultaneously drained of blood.

He steps closer anyway, though hesitantly. He can’t say no to the little thing whose grin has now grown double the size of her face.

“This is the man that helped me,” she explained softly to you, pointing at him with a small finger.

You scanned him over.

For a moment, he thought you were going to turn around and book it in the other direction. A random ‘robot man’ in the centre of the town square was probably the least most inviting thing he could’ve been. Not to mention he had been sitting at the docks for so long staring out into the water he knew his hair had been tossed wildly from the wind.

Not that you appeared anymore put together.

Instead, you grab his face with a free hand and kiss him on the cheek.

“Thank you,” you whispered hoarsely.

He almost damn near blue screens. The words ‘anything for you’ fight to come forth out of his throat.

Instead, he lets out a garbled noise before he clears his throat. “Of course. Couldn’t let the little princess run too far.” He teased your daughter with a tap to her nose.

She grabs his finger and presses the pads of her own across the metal rivets and joints like she’s studying them curiously.

Your daughter stared up at you with giant puppy eyes, still holding his hand. “Can we keep him?”

It was your turn to make a weird noise, spluttering with your face heating up. “You can’t keep people.”

All the while, Boothill was staring at you as you chastised her with hot cheeks.

No spouse by the looks of it—nor had the little princess mentioned somebody else. He knew kids liked to ramble on about their parents.

Well, his daughter did. Something cold and metallic turned in his stomach. She used to think her dad was a hero.

He wondered if she still would.

No ring on your finger. Adoration was such a gentle expression on your face, and the way you held her so firmly, yet so delicately, said it all.

Oh, if he wasn’t completely head over heels from the very beginning.

the angst potential. The angst potential. Theeee angst potential. i’m gritting my teeth.

i’m going insan e

[childrenofcain-if]

Did your school also have that awful baby project where you have to partner up with another student and be “parents” for like a fake robot baby? The one that has sensors in it and it cries in the middle of the night and you have to feed it and carry it around for like two weeks.

I'm imagining if MC and C had to pair up for that project in school. It's a funny mental image of two kids arguing over a fake baby like they're 40 year old divorcees.

Obviously they both want a good grade but they literally won't stop arguing over every stupid thing about the fake baby.

A whole lot of: “You're holding it the wrong way.” “No, YOU'RE holding it the wrong way.” “Why did you have to dress it up in THAT outfit. It looks hideous.” “I thought it was cute! What, are you not happy unless it's wearing formal three piece suit, get over yourself.” “You're supposed to look after it tonight.” “I told you that I'm too busy with practice after school.” “Well that's too bad, we both agreed that Friday is YOUR night to look after the baby. I'll get it back on the weekend.” “But I can't take the baby with me to football practice! Why are you so inconsiderate?" "Great, look it's crying now. That's gotta be your fault.”

Teacher would immediately be so done with them and ready to take off points for “inflicting psychic damage on the baby by means of hostile environment” or some bs 💀

it was supposed to be a simple project—a rite of passage, really. every student had to go through it: the dreaded baby project. the one where you and a partner were tasked with taking care of a robot baby for two weeks, complete with cries in the middle of the night, diapers that needed changing, and a never-ending checklist of parental responsibilities. it was meant to teach you about responsibility, commitment, and empathy, or whatever nonsense the school administration tried to sell it as.

you, on the other hand, had different thoughts. especially when you found out that your partner for this cursed experiment was none other than C Lacroix.

the moment the teacher had paired you two together, you both shot each other the same look of mutual horror. of all the people in your class, of all the potential partners, you were stuck with each other. it was like fate had a sick sense of humor. C, the person who couldn’t go a day without making some snide remark about you, was now supposed to co-parent a fake baby with you? for two whole weeks? this was going to be a nightmare.

“why do we even have to do this?” C muttered under their breath, running a hand through their hair as they eyed the little plastic baby lying in the crib in front of you. “making this project mandatory is ridiculous.”

“you think i’m happy about this?” you shot back, already feeling the tension between you two rising. “you’re not exactly my dream partner either.”

the teacher, mrs. wentworth, stood at the front of the class, giving out instructions as though this were the most serious, real-world task you’d ever face in high school. you had to pick up the baby, name it, dress it, and take care of it as if it were real. the sensors inside the baby would track how well you handled it, including how quickly you responded to its cries, how gently you held it, and whether or not you remembered to change its clothes and diapers.

C crossed their arms, glancing at the little bundle of plastic with thinly veiled disgust. “how are we supposed to pass this if it’s literally rigged to cry at random hours?”

you didn’t bother hiding your frustration as you leaned in closer, keeping your voice low. “well, maybe if you actually try instead of complaining all the time, we could figure it out. just a thought.”

they shot you a glare. “oh, so now you’re an expert on fake babies?”

“better than you, at least,” you muttered, folding your arms over your chest.

the two of you stood there in a silent, seething stalemate for a moment, both unwilling to be the first to back down. then mrs. wentworth walked over with an expectant smile, handing you the baby and the care guide that went with it.

“don’t forget,” she said, her voice overly chipper, “this baby is your responsibility. think of it like it’s a real, living child.”

C muttered something under their breath that sounded a lot like kill me now but managed a tight-lipped smile as mrs. wentworth walked away.

and so the nightmare began.

***

the first night was a disaster. the baby—whom you both begrudgingly decided to name “charlie,” after a half-hour debate that nearly escalated into a full-on shouting match—began crying at exactly 2:14 a.m. you were supposed to take care of it that night, but when the piercing wails filled the room, you groaned and instinctively checked your phone. two missed calls from C. the stupid app linked to the baby must’ve been ringing off for them.

“are you kidding me?” you muttered, rolling out of bed and grabbing your phone.

when you called them back, their voice was groggy and clearly annoyed. “why is the baby crying?”

“gee, i don’t know, lacroix, maybe because it’s a robot baby that cries for no reason? it’s literally designed to do this.”

“i thought you were supposed to be taking care of it tonight,” they shot back.

“i am, but it’s just— can’t you hear it over the phone?” you snapped. “it’s like it’s possessed. i’ve tried everything, but it’s not stopping.”

you heard a sigh on the other end, and then a rustling noise. “fine. i’ll come over.”

within fifteen minutes, C was standing in your doorway, wearing a dark green hoodie and gray sweatpants, looking very much like they regretted every life decision that had led them to this moment. they made a beeline for the fake baby, picking it up awkwardly, their movements stiff and unsure.

“you’re holding it the wrong way,” you said immediately, wincing as the baby wailed louder.

they glared at you. “no, i’m not.”

“yes, you are. you have to support its head.”

“i am supporting its head,” they growled through gritted teeth. “this thing’s just broken or something.”

you crossed your arms, trying not to lose your patience entirely. “great, so we’re already terrible parents and it’s only day one.”

C shot you a look of half-exasperation and half-amusement. “well, it’s not like we’re competing for ‘parents of the year,’ are we?”

“oh, trust me, we’re not even good enough to be in the running.”

***

by the end of week one, things had escalated.

“i can’t believe you dressed it in that,” you said, eyeing the baby’s outfit with utter disdain. it was a simple onesie, with little ducks printed all over it, but to you, it was the equivalent of committing some kind of fashion crime.

“what’s wrong with it?” C snapped, not in the mood for another one of your critiques.

“it looks ridiculous. you couldn’t have picked something more… i don’t know, neutral?”

“neutral?” C scoffed, narrowing their eyes at you. “what, were you expecting it to wear a three-piece suit? maybe a little tie and cufflinks? it’ll end up looking like a mini version of your dad.”

“at least it wouldn’t look like a clown.”

C threw their hands up in frustration. “oh my god, it’s a baby. it’s supposed to look cute.”

“that isn’t cute.”

“i thought it was cute!”

“well, it’s not. and now we look like idiots.”

“we?” C let out a sarcastic laugh. “last time i checked, i dressed it while you were too busy pretending to care.”

“i care!” you protested, your voice rising.

“really? because you didn’t seem to care last night when i was the one who had to stay up until 4 a.m.”

you crossed your arms, glaring at C. “i told you i had practice. we agreed that i’d take care of it over the weekend.”

“yeah, well, the baby didn’t get the memo.” C turned to grab the diaper bag, slinging it over their shoulder. “it’s your turn tonight, by the way. don’t be a deadbeat this time.”

“i can’t take it with me to hockey,” you said, your voice flat.

“then figure something out,” C snapped. “i have chess club to attend as well.”

you groaned, rubbing your temples in frustration. “this is impossible.”

“you’re telling me.”

***

come tuesday morning, you were a zombie. dark circles under your eyes, your body aching from both the lack of sleep and the lingering soreness from practice. when you met up with C in the hallway before class, you didn’t bother hiding your exhaustion.

“rough night?” they asked, though there was a smirk playing at the corners of their mouth.

“i hope you choke on your chess pieces,” you muttered, glaring at them.

they raised an eyebrow. “such hostility. it’s not good for our charlie, you know.”

“charlie’s fine. i’m the one who’s falling apart.”

“well, you’re supposed to be a co-parent,” they said, their tone teasing but with an edge of seriousness. “maybe if you actually tried…”

“oh, don’t you dare lecture me about trying,” you snapped. “you’re the one who left me with the baby for three whole days.”

“you’re the one who wanted the weekend slot.”

“it was monday yesterday!”

C opened their mouth to argue, but mrs. wentworth appeared before either of you could get another word in.

“how’s it going with little charlie?” she asked with a smile that was far too cheery for how sleep-deprived you felt.

“great,” C said immediately, flashing a charming smile that was only reserved for faculty members.

you shot them a look that could kill. “‘great?’ really?”

mrs. wentworth raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing the tension. “is there something you want to add?”

you crossed your arms, biting your tongue. the last thing you needed was a lecture on communication from your teacher. “no, it’s fine. we’re doing… great, yes.”

“fantastic,” she said with a smile. “just remember, it’s important to create a healthy, loving environment for your child.”

as soon as she walked away, you turned to C. “loving environment? you couldn’t even be bothered to show up last night.”

they shrugged, unbothered. “i had chess club after school.”

you let out a frustrated sigh, shaking your head. “i can’t wait for this project to be over.”

***

the arguing reached a fever pitch by the middle of the second week. it seemed like every little thing about the baby was grounds for debate.

“you’re not holding it right,” C said, standing over you as you tried to rock the baby to sleep.

you sighed out in irritation. “oh my god, can you just back off for once?”

“i’m serious, you’re supposed to hold it like this,” they insisted, demonstrating with an exaggerated motion, as if they were some kind of baby-holding expert now.

“you do realize it’s not even real, right? the sensors won’t know the difference.”

“that’s not the point.”

you clenched your jaw, doing your best to ignore them as you continued rocking the baby. it was past midnight, and you were exhausted—more exhausted than you’d ever been in your life. who knew a robot baby could be this draining? C, on the other hand, seemed to be operating on a combination of stubbornness and sheer arrogance, unwilling to back down from any argument.

“why are you so obsessed with doing everything your way?” you muttered under your breath.

“i’m not obsessed, i just don’t want us to fail.”

“oh, please, we’re not going to fail because of how i hold the stupid thing.”

“well, it’s crying now, isn’t it?” they shot back, crossing their arms.

you glared at them. “it’s crying because you won’t shut up.”

C huffed in frustration, running a hand through their hair. “fine. you know what? fine. you handle it. i’m done.”

“who’s the deadbeat now?” you snarked as they started storming off to the corner. they stopped in their tracks when they heard you and, with a barely suppressed groan, stomped back to you.

“back so soon?” you asked in faux surprise before thrusting the baby toward them. “your turn.”

C rolled their eyes, grumbling under their breath as they resigned themself to doing the baby-holding now.

***

by the time the project finally came to an end, you and C were barely on speaking terms. the constant bickering, the sleepless nights, and the stress of trying to keep a fake baby “alive” had taken its toll. you were both exhausted—mentally, physically, and emotionally.

when you handed charlie back to mrs. wentworth, you couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief wash over you. it was finally over.

“well,” mrs. wentworth said, eyeing the two of you with a bemused expression, “i hope this has been a… productive learning experience.”

“yeah,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. “something like that.”

she gave you both a tight smile. “i’ll be docking points for the… tension between you two. i did remind you that it’s important to maintain a healthy environment for your child.”

you and C both opened your mouths to protest, but she held up a hand. “no need to argue. you’ve both done enough of that already.”

as you walked out of the classroom, the weight of the past two weeks hung between you. it wasn’t until you were halfway down the hallway that C turned to you, not meeting your eyes.

“all things considered…” they started, their voice low and reluctant, like they were pulling teeth just to get the words out, “you weren’t that bad of a partner.”

you blinked, turning your head sharply to look at them, unsure if you had heard them correctly. the very same person who had spent the last two weeks criticizing every little thing you did, was actually complimenting you?

“wait, what?” you said, your voice dripping with incredulity. “did you just say something nice to me? are you feeling okay?”

C rolled their eyes, but there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of their lips. “don’t get too excited. i’m just saying… you didn’t completely screw it up.”

you couldn’t help but let out a dry, sarcastic laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “wow, high praise coming from you. if this was a real baby, it would probably be dead by now with the way we handled things.”

C chuckled softly, the sound catching you off guard. it wasn’t their usual arrogant laugh, the one that always made you want to punch them. this was different—quieter, more genuine. they shrugged, their shoulders relaxed as they glanced at you.

“yeah, maybe. but…” they hesitated for a second, their pale green eyes flickering to yours before quickly looking away. “i wouldn’t have asked for another partner.”

the words hit you like a slow-motion realization, and for a moment, you couldn’t quite process what they had just said. you stared at them, mouth slightly open, completely taken aback.

before you could ask what them meant, they were already walking off, their long strides taking them down the hallway.

“good luck for your practice,” they tossed over their shoulder, their voice casual, as if they hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on you.

you stood there, frozen in place, your mind racing to make sense of it. what did they mean by that? were they actually being sincere? and why did they say it like it wasn’t a big deal?

the hallway felt suddenly quieter, the distant chatter of other students fading into the background as you tried to wrap your head around what just happened. your heart was pounding a little faster, and you felt an unfamiliar warmth creeping up your neck.

why the hell am i getting flustered over this? you thought, shaking your head as if that would clear the confusion.

you let out a slow breath, your mind replaying C’s words: i wouldn’t have asked for another partner.

why did that make your heart skip a beat? this was C—the same person who had criticized every little thing you did, the one who would normally rather die than give you a compliment. and yet, here you were, feeling oddly flattered and confused.

you were about to turn and head toward the gym lockers to get your hockey gears for practice when you realized your hands were still clenching the care guide from the project. you looked down at it, then back at the direction C had walked off in, their figure now disappearing around a corner.

a small, involuntarily giddy smile crept onto your face.

maybe they weren’t that bad of a partner either.

[zosin-ya]

omg i love your work so much! if your free can you do a fluff scenario of kid where his s/o gives him a ton of cute magnets for his arm and he shows them off like tattoos? 🥰🥰🥰

Character: Eustass Kid Content: s/o giving him magnets for his robotic arm a.n.: I really love this idea and I do love Kid. Hope you enjoy!

Kid was engrossed in his workshop as usual, tinkering away at the scattered items on his cluttered table. Screws, metal scraps, and tools lay in disarray, which he periodically shoved from left to right to create a bit of workspace. Despite the apparent chaos, he had his own unique organizational system, that made sense, only to him. Occasionally, you could hear him mutter curses under his breath, as you watched him from the doorway quietly.

His massive form sat at a well-worn workbench, which had clearly seen better days. The wood bore scratches, burn marks, and a missing corner—hastily patched with a piece of metal Kid had slammed against it. After all, it was a workbench, meant to look used, or so he told himself.

The small light aimed at the bench exaggerated his already bulky form. His foot tapped to the rhythm of the music playing in the background as he continued to tinker. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t notice your approach.

With your hands in your pockets, secretly holding the little gifts you had gathered, you leaned over his shoulder to see what his calloused hands were creating. Despite their rough appearance, Kid was deft when handling delicate metal parts. You kept quiet, a small amused smile forming on your lips as you wondered how long it would take for him to notice your presence.

Your breath brushed his shoulder, causing him to pause momentarily before resuming his work. He acknowledged your presence with a grunt, "What ya need?"

For Kid, that was quite polite. Anyone else would likely have faced a flying screwdriver or a loud rebuke for interrupting him. But you, you could bother him anytime. Even if he reacted this way, you knew you were welcome.

"Nothing, just curious," you answered innocently—perhaps too innocently. Kid knew you well and sensed you were up to something. He cocked his head towards you, raising an eyebrow, but before he could make a snarky comment, you pulled your hand out of your pocket and let the magnet fall onto his robotic arm. It adhered instantly.

Kid frowned, examining the small, punk-themed magnet now adorning his prosthetic. Placing his tools on the bench, he turned his metal arm for a better look. It was a small magnet, just his style.

"Where’d you get that—Hey!" You interrupted him by placing another magnet on his arm. He didn’t know you’d been collecting these during your travels. Each time you saw a fitting one, you’d buy it, waiting until you had a good collection to surprise him.

With a low hum, Kid turned towards you, still seated on his stool. This was new. He had never considered decorating his arm, which he saw as a weapon rather than a canvas for aesthetics. Your captain spread his legs, leaning back against the workbench, eyes shifting from his robotic arm to you. "What's this all about, huh?"

You stood between his legs, shrugging nonchalantly with a small smile. "It's like having tattoos. You can change them, too. Thought it was a cool idea. Do you like it?"

Kid might be rough around the edges, but he wouldn’t decline a gift from you, even the oddest one. And this? It looked kinda cool. A confident grin spread across his face as he examined the magnets. Most fit his style, though some were cuter, making his grin falter. He groaned in annoyance.

"Y/N, come on. What is this? I can't be running around like this!" He ripped off a magnet featuring a kitten with big eyes and "Anarchy" written below. Clearly, you’d picked it to tease him. Kid was about to discard it, but you snatched it back and reattached it to his arm.

"It's a gift! It’s not that bad. A real man can wear anything, right?." You taunted with a grin, pinching his cheek gently. Kid pulled his face away, rubbing the spot. You always knew what to say to him to make Kid agree. Going after his manhood usually worked. "...you're lucky I like you, Y/N."

He sighed in defeat, giving you a kiss to thank you for the magnets. He liked most of the them, even if a few were embarrassing. But they were from you, and that made them special. You’d clearly put a lot of thought into this, buying so many and especially picking out specific ones which fit his style.

Later that day, Kid kept all the magnets on his robotic arm. His crew commented, mostly positively, but when they saw the "Anarchy Kitten," they burst out laughing, knowing you’d done it on purpose. To their dismay, Kid discovered he could use the magnets as projectiles, slamming them into their faces and easily retrieving them with his power. With a smug grin, he realized the magnets were more useful than he’d thought.

Kid not only kept every magnet you bought but wore them like a badge of honor. Kitten or not, he looked sick with them.

[Click here for more Kid content!]

[celestial-robots]

Explaining Eclipse (A Theory/Headcanon)

Spoilers for the Ruin DLC below!

Okay so I've been thinking so much about Eclipse and what they mean. You know, as you do XD. Just a lot of wondering what they mean for the ~lore~ and how they fit in with the rest of the Sun and Moon stuff. And after a lot of thinking, I may have figured stuff out.

I've seen a couple posts wondering if Eclipse is the way the Daycare Attendant is "supposed to be" and if Sun and Moon are the result of the DCA breaking down or something. But personally I just can't see that. Not only do we hear Sun go "thank you" after the Eclipse encounter, implying he's still around and hasn't permanently "fused" into Eclipse, but it also wouldn't make sense with stuff in Security Breach. In-game Fazbear merchandise and advertising have a lot of focus on Sun and Moon as two separate individuals, not the DCA as a single unit. For example, see the giant golden statues outside of Daycare. Two different forms of the Daycare Attendant. Collectibles are also identified as "Sun" and "Moon." It's not like they're labeled "Eclipse Doll (Sun form)" or "Moon Eclipse Doll." No, it's just "Sun Doll" and "Moon Doll."

So here's how I think it works. Sun and Moon are two separate AIs within the DCA body. They can function on their own, independent of the other, in the way we've been thinking this whole time. BUT they're also designed to join together, like interlocking puzzle blocks. Two separate forms that come together to make a "whole" that's greater than the sum of the parts.

This makes sense from a programming perspective. Sun is designed to play with kids and entertain them, Moon is designed to watch over kids while they sleep. They're both made for specific scenarios, but taking care of kids is a lot more complicated than just "play time" and "nap time." So whenever one of them encounters something they can't deal with by themselves, they call for help from the other, who activates as well, combining their features and protocols. I'm willing to bed this also activates several specific "Eclipse" features that can only be accessed when both AIs are active, which would explain why Eclipse has such a different personality.

But if this is the case, then why haven't we seen Eclipse before? Why did they only come out when Cassie rebooted the DCA?

Well that's where this theory by @dana-chan-the-control-brain and @twinanimatronics comes in. The two of them theorized that the Balloon World arcade cabinet in the DCA's room was some sort of signal broadcaster that kept their AIs divided. I think that Ruin confirms this—or at least provides a lot of solid evidence.

In the main game, Balloon World is in the DCA room, up and active and with a form of Eclipse inside. In Ruin, the Balloon World cabinet is broken. And you can see weird purple glitches coming from it while in AR vision. It's only in Ruin, after the cabinet has been damaged, that we finally meet Eclipse.

This is venturing a bit into headcanon territory, but let's have some fun with this. I believe that the Balloon World cabinet was put in the DCA's room to infect them with the virus. Probably a long time before the events of the actual game, since the worn-down state of the room shows it's been a while since any human or robot cleaners were in there. This might have been some sort of test run to see if the virus could affect the animatronics.

However, the virus couldn't affect the DCA while Eclipse was there, acting as a sort of stabilizing failsafe for Sun and Moon. So the virus then cut off the "fuse" function from Sun and Moon, locking Eclipse away and preventing them from stepping in when Sun or Moon encounter something strange—strange like a virus. Sun probably couldn't be affected by the virus because the virus attacks nighttime and/or security protocols, and he no longer had access to those once Eclipse was gone. Moon, however, did. And that's why he's hostile.

But then, if the Balloon World cabinet was keeping Eclipse contained, why were Sun and Moon still freaking out in Ruin even after the cabinet was destroyed? Why did they need Cassie to reboot them?

Well, I think that forming Eclipse requires both Sun and Moon to want to fuse together. And Moon clearly doesn't want to do that in Ruin. Why? Probably because he's mad at Sun. You can hear how angry he is in voice lines where he says stuff like "No more Sun!" and "No more light!" (Seriously, props to Kellen Goff, holy shit.) Moon was only able to be "awake" for short periods of time in the main game, partially because Sun was encouraging everyone to "Keep the lights on." Of course Moon would be pissed and want to be in control now that the lights are broken. He wasn't about to risk losing that .

But not having Eclipse around was ultimately damaging Sun and Moon. They were meant to stabilize the system when the two individuals couldn't do that alone. Not to mention their systems were already damaged, judging by Moon's increased light sensitivity in Ruin. They needed Eclipse so they could be stable again.

Cassie rebooting the DCA's systems was a lot like restarting your computer. Everything shuts down and then all the systems start running again at once—including, in this case, both Sun and Moon's AIs and whatever Eclipse functions were now restored. That's why Eclipse was in control after the reboot. Presumably, the rest of the software damage was also fixed, which probably helped calm Moon down. So, overall, a happy ending.

Relatively, I mean. The DCA is still stuck in an abandoned Pizzaplex, but at least Eclipse is back and Sun and Moon aren't fighting anymore :)

[cyberrose2001]

TFP Optimus with a goth and metalhead reader. Reader is female. Fluff.

TFP Optimus x Fem!Goth/Metalhead!Reader

Heyy so this was pretty cute to write. I had come up with a couple different ideas but I went with something simple and took creative liberty. I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: None, Fluff, reader is human.

Word Count: 1,259

'There's no escape from the thoughts inside my head,

Dark days has taken the best of me,

I can't go on like this.'

Sliding the volume bar up, you relax into the stained lounge not currently occupied with kids bickering for player one. They can be pestering at best. However, you love them a lot, especially Miko. That little rockstar has wiggled her way under your skin more than you would've liked. You can't count how often she's come to you with a new metal song she wanted to destroy your eardrums with, in a good way, much to the chagrin of the rest of Team Prime.

So when your fellow metalhead friend goes home with a big smile on her face and the second guitar she's broken this week, you take the opportunity to relax with your own music. With added earbuds, of course.

'Can you turn back time,

To change what you have done?

To shape who you become?'

Shutting your eyes, you let the rolling drums and metallic melodies flood your senses, the lyrics soothing you better than any therapist you could throw money at.

'DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUUUUU-'

Tap tap.

"GAHH!"

After nearly giving the base a new emergency exit via a Y/n-shaped hole through the roof, you rip off your earbuds to glare daggers at exactly who tapped you on the shoulder in your mid-maladaptive daydreaming.

A very concerned, slightly mortified Optimus Prime stares at you right back.

You have now exceeded your yearly quota for embarrassment in the span of five seconds.

"Oh! Optimus, sorry I-" You fumble for your phone that went airborne to the other side of the lounge, quickly pausing your music and clearing your throat, "Sorry, is there something I can... do for you?"

Optimus recovers from your sudden outburst and clears his vocalizer, "Nothing to be concerned about," He pauses, "I think... but I couldn't help but overhear music coming from your small device."

"Oh, these?" You show him your earbuds, heavily used and on its last string of wire, "Yeah, that's what they're used for. Personalised music only you can listen to from, called earphones."

"Ah, a device that recognises its user," Optimus says confidently, "Would it still be functional if another were to use it?"

"Uh, no," You hold back a soft chuckle. Optimus may be an eons-old robot, but it seems he still has much to learn about human culture, "I phrased that wrong. It sends music directly into your ears. Not only does it sound better, but it's more... respectful to the people around you."

Optimus seemed to understand that, nodding and leaning in to get a closer look at the magical, elusive earphones, "Hm, I see. How interesting, I am not sure if Cybertron ever had these."

You're unsure if you should explain the crucial 'ear' part, but then again, you also had some things to learn about Cybertronians.

"Maybe," You say, giving him an unsure smile, "Would you... like to try them out? I'm not sure how they will fit because, y'know, ears."

The mech perks up at your offer, seeming interested in something other than having a candle-lit dinner and wine with his datapad.

"If you allow me," Optimus holds out a servo, "I would be grateful for the opportunity."

God, he's so sweet. It's like you asked him to accompany you to a high school dance, except it's not. He wants to try out earphones.

"I am sure they will be fine. My comlink had previously been modified to accommodate external inputs."

You smile sheepishly. That's a good enough answer and one you were hoping for. You move from the lounge to step onto Optimus' outstretched servo, and now you realise that you've never actually been held by Optimus. You know he's big, but suddenly becoming inches close to his faceplates and getting a feel for the mech's true size has your mind spinning.

And this piece of heavy metal that holds you like a delicate flower is about to experience true heavy metal.

Optimus studies you for a moment longer, and his optics finally get a proper, up-close look at your unique style, "You look quite... different from the others. Before proceeding with this 'personalised' experience, may I ask why?"

That shouldn't have made your face flush, but it did. Questionable choice of wording, but he's right. You do have a different style even compared to Miko. Instead of colourful streaks of pink and the brash early two thousand' get-up, you chose to adorn yourself with all-black clothing and absolutely no bold colours in your hair. Even your make-up, black lipstick, and harsh eyeliner that would make a Christian mother weep. Optimus would undoubtedly question why you chose a different way of representing yourself.

"Well, I'm sure it's strange to you," You begin, trying to ignore how high off the ground you are, "But it's another way for humans to express themselves. It's more of an aesthetic of sorts, but a way of life for others. I guess you could compare it to Cybertronians choosing their alt modes."

Optimus nods, absorbing the new knowledge like a sponge. For some reason, that was easier to explain than the earphones.

"Ah, so it is a distinct way to present yourself to others—an identity of sorts. We Cybertronians are quite limited in our own modifications, partly due to the war." The mech reaches his other servo to your hair, toying with the ends to admire the softness, "I do not find that strange at all that you would choose to modify yourself this way. It's rather endearing and unique; I admire that about your species."

"That's..." Your cheeks flush once again as you watch him play with your hair, "Kind of sweet." You give him a soft smile, touching his servo near your head. He makes eye contact with you, and that's when your breath hitches, and you clear your throat, "But it's not just clothes or... or other mods we can use - we can use music too."

Optimus nods his helm in familiarity, "Yes, I have become aware of that. Miko can be quite the musician." You're unsure if he's saying that to be polite or if he genuinely means it.

"Yeah, I've been trying to teach her, I promise." You chuckle softly, as does he. You continue, unconsciously gripping his servo, "But music is the pathway to the soul, at least for me. It can help me think and even untangle my emotions or just let them be and only soothe. It helps me live in the moment. Like a... a therapist, if that makes sense."

The Prime seems to have connected the dots, "That is why you spend most of your time resting on the couch listening to your music?" Optimus realises his impudence towards you earlier when he startled you, "I see. I apologise for interrupting your therapy earlier; that was rather brash of me."

God, no, he is exceeding unprecedented levels of sweetness now. His optics' soft, apologetic look nearly obliterates you, thinking he had legitimately interrupted a therapy session.

"No, no, Optimus," You suppress a laugh, "It's okay, really. It's a figure of speech. It feels like therapy. Sometimes it's better."

Optimus exhales a gentle sigh, "Apologies. You humans have such expressive figures of speech I have yet to catch onto."   

"It's alright. Now, speaking of therapy." You try to hide your ever-growing affection for him and retract your hand, holding up one end of the small earbud, "How about that personalised experience?"

[rowretro]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕳𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌

(picture found on tumblr)

✧Warnings: Violence, detailed ghost and gore, blood, a horror themed yandere story, dead bodies, possibly creepy dolls?, mafia demon Won (coz he has a gun in the pic, and I need him to be a demon in this story)

✧Synopsis: Y/n never found herself having to hide in her sweet penthouse, her $500 bottle of red wine spilled out of her crystal wine glass, the stunning door many envied, bloodied and broken. She found herself running, running into danger yet again... and the police were on a search for her, as she's now a missing person case. But Jungwon was on a hunt for her, making sure his darling is safe at all costs.

✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧

Y/n's blood ran cold. one last audio recording of her discoveries on day 7 of surviving. Surviving what you ask? she doesn't even know what to call it. It's eyes blank white, blood surrounding it's pearly eyeballs, running down it's cracked porcelain skin, dried out, it's long hair, everywhere it trails. She learnt not to touch it or it'll immediately sense she's there. It couldn't see her, but it could hear her. it could hear how her blood pumped through her body, her somewhat heavy breathing but it never knew where she hid. She was in an abandoned school.... a University known for it's paranormal sightings. She'd ran into many bodies, of those who tried to escape, some were streamers, reporters who willingly walked into the death department, others seemed like students who tried to escape.

Yet somehow she managed to find out how to kill it... the monster. Finding random letters a woman named Angela Xiao wrote till her death. Y/n examined how the monster's nails went from plain dead, to growing, blinding white nails. The day time was when it was most safe, it never came out in the late, but y/n remained wary. But now it's winter. The nights longer than days, darkness lasting long. She couldn't remember the last time she slept soundly with her only worry being waking up late when she has a morning lecture.

She figured the monster wrote those letters, it was once a woman, forced into an abusive marriage with a man that hurt her always, until he had it, ripping out her ligaments whilst she was still alive, as the woman screamed bloody murder, according to the random news letters in the cold dead hands in some reporters. There was some talks of a kid's ghost that lurked the hallways too. Her heart ached for this woman, but she had to get rid of this.... cursed being. perhaps perform an exorcism?...

She found a lighter, checking if it'd still blaze up, unaware of her surroundings, when a sudden, gut wrenching, ear-piercing scream shook her. There it was, the monster. Not expecting anything to happen but at least slow the thing down, she set it on fire, running off and hiding. but it kept screaming in agony, its body burning up, as it disappeared to ashes.... Y/n's eyes grew wide as she saw a much prettier woman in the form of a ghost, staring around at the bloodied mess, looking quite hurt... It saw y/n, and left behind a key....

It was the key to get out of this place physically. Hopeful yet extremely cautious, she picked up the key. The sound of clinking, echoed the empty hallways, not too far. That can't be right... she hid in the closet, watching as the shadow grew bigger. Her heart dropped at the sight. another one? she wondered as she saw the porcelain mannequin, walking robotically, its hair looking like an elegant wig a woman's love to wear, a red bow tied around it. the strappy red dress looked like a dress she had worn to a friend's frat party.

Those red glass heels looked as fragile as it's ceramic, glossy skin. "I know you're in here human... I can smell your yummy blood... oh don't be shy come out! it'll only hurt a little... I just wanna tear you open and eat your insides whilst u scream in pain!" it said with an eerily sweet voice. She calmed her breath, hiding well, she saw its face. pupils black, lashes drawn on, like a man had made himself a pretty wife in the 1950's, except it looked creepy, sure it possessed the beauty standards one'd expect in a woman, that were so unrealistic. but it's mouth area was broken off, and it's bloodied teeth, with some skin evident in between.

"Come out dear girl... I can see your dark hair.... what such pretty skin you have there......" she commented as Y/n swallowed hard. "THERE YOU ARE!" it screamed as y/n felt herself giving up, reaching for the blade to end her sorrows so she wont face the pain. as it's cold hands grabbed her shoulders, and opened its jaw revealing many rows of bloodied, long sharp teeth, y/n couldn't help but scream. Yet it dropped dead. glass shattering, soul arising from the shatterred, creepy mess off porcelain and disappearing. Y/n breathed heavily, as she finally cried.

"Fuck it's ok, its ok.... I'm here y/n...." a familliar voice said, Jungwon, the sweet boy in her class, the man she had a crush on.... but... he looked different. Gun in hand, black, featherred wings that had sprouted out his back. She backed away, repeating the word no, scared he's just an illusion. "shh shh.... I promise it is me.... I've been looking for you everywhere.... I didn't know that the curses still lived on earth- but trust me, you're safe with me.... look me in the eyes sweetheart." he said as y/n did so. and she immediately felt his sincerity.

As the police bought her story, and discovered the many dead bodies, they pinned their target, the man who started the curse of course, The man who had killed his wife and child. To the police however, he was a psychotic serial killer who killed every one there brutally and had gotten away with it for dozens of years. Y/n was in Jungwon's home, getting a little used to his demon abilities, and his dear friend Jay who casually sipped out of a blood bag before her. Jungwon could feel she was scared.... god it hurt him that she was so shaken up, in such a condition for about a week.

But he loved it, he loves how she grew so dependant on him... How she dragged him with her everywhere, how he helped her shower, delicately scrubbing the soap on her soft skin, wary of the wounds and cuts. He's loving how she's currently snuggling into his embrace, dressed in one of her short yet comfortable nightgowns, needy for his reassurance. See if something like this never happened, he couldn't have gotten her attention..... The haunting was all that was needed to get her to love him... And he will make sure she'll forever love him. She has no choice, only he can protect her, and only he can love her....

✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧

A/n: I'm gonna have nightmares for picturing this- but I hope u enjoyed, comment how u feel, and if u want me to make it up to you w a fluff- or maybe smut idk yet(shoot me w some requests, ill try)

[theinsanefoxwriter]

Gregory Deserves Better...

I never make actual posts to be honest, but I feel the need to right now, because I’m just so…tired of this. My favorite character in the newer FNAF era has been mistreated by both fans and the creators. So I’m making this in light of the new book coming that, at least from the description we have right now, sounds like it’s just Security Breach, except Gregory is replaced by Cassie.

I’ve said many times elsewhere how I suspected they wanted to boot Gregory for Cassie, and...I had no idea how right I actually was. It angers me, but…mostly, I’m just hurt and very disappointed, because it sucks to see a character I loved get so disrespected then practically replaced. The ending of Ruin felt like a slap in the face, and the sting is only getting worse. (And very quickly, in case anybody takes this from what I'm saying, no I don't hate Cassie. I just don't want her to completely replace Gregory.) I’m not here to talk about that situation, though.

If anyone for some reason leaves a comment arguing the points I make, I’m just going to ignore or even delete it. I’m not here to discuss or argue with people who disagree with me and/or think Gregory is a bad character. I just want to express an opinion that I don’t think is said nearly enough. And that opinion is the fact Gregory is severely misunderstood and mistreated by both the fandom and canon itself. I’m not going to get into everything, but enough that you can hopefully understand the point I’m trying to make.

Most of the Gregory hate at the beginning was due to him destroying the animatronics and then lying about it to Freddy. I don’t see how this makes him hateable or a bad person. “Why’d he have to go out of his way to destroy them?” “He’s a bad person for lying to Freddy and giving him the upgrades of his friends.” “The Glamrocks were so awesome. Why did Gregory have to do that?” What kid in danger would want to help or be nice to the scary robots trying to kill them? Or against the better argument, why would he have sympathy for them in a moment of intense danger? When they were actively trying to kill him? He did what he thought he needed to survive, which was destroying them and using the good parts they had to give him a better chance against them. If they had been nice, he would have liked them, but they weren’t. They were after him. And choosing to do that plus being able to do that doesn’t make him a bad person, and it doesn’t mean he's uncaring towards others or that he’s heartless. What I think people don't take into account is that Gregory did befriend an animatronic, the one who wasn't attacking him. He went to great lengths to help Freddy, and genuinely cared for him; that bear needed to be rescued on more than one occasion lol, and Gregory clearly wasn't just doing it because Freddy gives him a hiding place.

And in regard to the lying, I think Gregory hid that he was getting the upgrades from Freddy's friends, because he didn't want to make Freddy mad or hurt his feelings. That does sound like something a kid would do, and he is a kid. He's not gonna be perfect in this situation, and he doesn't even do anything that bad. I don't think Gregory gets enough credit. Everybody just sees a mouthy kid destroying animatronics they like (despite the fact they're hunting him, and the virus has made them basically mindless. Why wouldn’t he?), and they hate on him for it and other rather stupid reasons. Gregory is more than the “annoying” kid who destroyed your favorite animatronics. He’s a clearly guarded and defensive child who got stuck in a bad and terrifying situation, but…in the end, stayed anyway to prevent this and other bad things from happening to anyone else. Gregory cares. Yes, even if he destroyed some animatronics. The creators calling him the “darkness of the Pizzaplex” or whatever they said doesn’t make sense. On the surface, he might look like some child who destroyed Freddy’s friends, but look any deeper at all, and that’s not the case. There’s so much potential for his character, and I’m upset that he isn’t being given the spotlight or time to further explore his potential properly, especially since Security Breach ended up being a bit lacking in a lot of areas: perhaps another factor in why he’s so misunderstood.

In the end, I’m simply tired of seeing a character that I connected with treated like he was just a writing mistake that now needs to be replaced by a “better” character. I’m not saying his writing was perfect, but he deserves way better than this. I feel very passionate about the characters I like, which is why this has affected me so much, and I hope at least a few people see this.

Anything I missed I’m going to touch on briefly here:

GGY? A cool concept, actually, that I wish was utilized in the games. And Gregory is clearly possessed there, similar to Vanessa, so him being Patient 46 and causing people’s deaths can’t actually be held against him.

Dropping the elevator on Cassie? I firmly believe that was not him, and very clearly the Mimic’s doing. There’s solid evidence behind it, but I’m not going to get into it because it’s exhausting. Just know that no one can convince me otherwise. And even if the writers wanted Gregory to do that, it’s out of character and clearly an act of character assassination.

Thanks for taking the time to read this. Now go hug a misunderstood gremlin!

[aster-oid]

To the stranger I knew too well

Summary: When your recurrent dreams about a puppet become out of hand, a reality check feels like the only way to get back to normalcy. Fate proves you wrong.

Pairing: Wanderer & gn!reader (post Irminsul), the relationship is heavily implied to be platonic

Content warnings: Reader is gender neutral, mentions of blood and murders but I don't go into details, slight angst, Wanderer is bad with feelings, platonic content

Word count: 7.2k | Soulmate AU

Comments: A special thank to my beta @ladyfocalors for always brainrotting with me about Genshin characters. We'll platonify the Genshin soulmate AU one work at the time /lh

It took you years to understand that your frequent lucid dreams about an Inazuman electricity-wielder leader were actually the memories of your soulmate.

To your parents' defense, every normal individual would have dismissed the idea. While your soulmate wearing an extravagant hat wasn’t impossible, your tales about a place shrouded in darkness and an Electro-user without a Vision sounded like a child's fantasy. There was no such thing in Teyvat.

You quickly got the reputation of an imaginative kid. Adults liked to ask you about your dreams.

"What a smart child you are!", they cooed once you finished recalling your visions. "You could write a storybook!"

Your younger self would shoot them the dirtiest glare they could muster. Unfortunately, adding that the protagonist was a puppet made hundreds of years ago was not the convincing argument you thought it was. To the layperson, your visions were nonsensical dreams.

But you knew what you saw. It felt real. Terribly, shockingly real. Most often that not, you woke up from these flashes with the taste of iron in your mouth, static filling your sight, your muscles locked into place. You were trapped in your own unresponsive body. Even your breath was stuck in your throat. But the worst part of your awakenings was the sticky feeling on your hands. No matter how many times you scrubbed, it lingered on your skin. You didn't know what it was at that time, just that it made you feel gross and that it would sometimes reappear if you washed your hands hard enough.

You learnt what blood was before you knew how to spell the color red. 

When one is repeatedly told that they're wrong, they will come to believe it. You were no exception. As the years passed by, you pushed those fantasies in the back of your mind. The adults in your life must have been right. You were just a strange kid with gruesome dreams, that was all.

Despite knowing that they were figments of your vivid imagination, the sights of snow-covered plains and bloody massacres haunted you well into adulthood. They had grown more complex. Details you didn’t notice as a child seemed obvious now that you had more experience. You could also recall conversations better. That’s how you learnt the name of the body you inhabited. Well, it was more correct to say you learnt multiple names for them. Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, Scaramouche, the Balladeer... It was like you could never make up your mind.

The puppet you temporarily inhabited was as elusive as the wind: no fixed name to call them and no face to match. They fled mirrors when they saw one, preventing you from seeing their appearance. The only thing you knew about them was their title: number Sixth of the Fatui Harbinger. A seat that was left vacant for centuries according to every Fatuus you asked.

Your constant daydreaming was annoying but manageable until you started having visions about Kunikuzushi taking over Sumeru. You saw them getting experimented on to become one with a robot, wincing in pain at the hands of a masked doctor, rambling about their birth-given right to access godhood, taunting a blonde traveler; a chain of events that could only make sense in a dream. The problem was that your reverie was affecting your daily life. You couldn’t go through a day without getting assailed by memories that weren’t yours. You had to stop halfway through any task, discussing became hard and sleep rarely came to you.

There was little you could do as you didn’t know what had worsened your visions. You were hoping it would go away by itself.

That was until a particularly haunting dream. As usual, you were but a spectator seeing through the Balladeer’s eyes. You saw a hand -their hand- reach for a chess piece, leaning forward as much as they could. Your blood went cold. They were about to fall over the edge of the platform! Your gaze darted everywhere. There was nothing on the distant ground that would break their fall. For the first time in your life, you realized that they could die. Scaramouche, the one you had observed for decades, could die.

You were the only one to realize how far they were leaning. They only had eyes for the violet pawn in front of them, begging and begging with a shaky voice. It had never sounded so frail, so raw with hurt and panic.

"Please, anything but the Gnosis!" 

It’s not worth it! you tried to scream. Stop! You didn't know why this Gnosis was so important to them but it was nothing dying for. Alas, no matter how hard you tried to move your mouth, the body refused to answer to you. You were nothing but a witness of a tragic scene, a powerless ghost with a bleeding heart. Your throat was thick with emotions you were not allowed to express.

Your dream ended in a snap, quite literally. A tearing sound erupted from behind you before you were sent falling down, pain flaring in your back. You bit down a scream as the world turned to blurry shades of blue and fluttering black bangs. The increasing speed made your eyes water and your body burn. You clenched your teeth. The fall was inevitable. Maybe it made you a coward but you couldn't bear to see it. You didn’t want to see Kunikuzushi die. Muttering an apology to the stranger in your dreams, you squeezed your teary eyes shut. 

The last thing you heard was a wet crushing sound, a mix between eggshells broken under the palm of your hand and a fruit being squashed. Your body jolted in your bed and you gagged, fighting the urge to throw up. You had never felt this sick. Not even when you dreamt of unfair massacres.

You sank to the floor, furiously wiping away the tears beading in the corner of your eyes. You couldn't do it anymore. You had to confront your dreaming problem. There was only one solution: if your brain was so adamant on obsessing over an imaginary character, you had to show it the harsh reality, to remind yourself that Kabukimono never existed.

Your trip to Sumeru was the most spontaneous project you ever planned. You were strolling through the busy streets of Sumeru city the very next day with barely enough money to get back to your nation. You had packed the bare minimum in your suitcase to carry it easily, meaning you wouldn’t be able to stay for more than just a few days.

That was, if you found a room for the night. You had no time to check what the usual prices were in the capital before leaving. Now that you were scouring the streets with your meager funds, unable to find a hotel within your budget, you were bitterly regretting your lack of foresight. You sighed. You supposed that the saying was right. Slow and steady wins the race.

As if it had felt your determination dwindling, the crushing sound echoed in your mind in response. You bit your lip, bile rising in your throat. You hadn't been able to forget about your last dream. It looped in your head like a broken record. Even if impulsively leaving your country was one of your worst ideas ever, the quicker you settled your daydream problem the sooner you'd be back to your normal life. 

Your weary steps lead you to an indoor bazaar. The smell of fried food filled your nostrils, making your stomach growl. You winced. The small homemade sandwich you had earlier couldn't compete with the appeal of street food. Unfortunately you needed to save your funds for a room. You let your gaze wander in the crowded marketplace, trying to distract yourself from the appetizing smell. Colorful stalls were full of fresh fruits, potted flowers and intricate trinkets. If you stood on your toes, you could even see a small theater representation in the farthest part of the bazaar. It was a lively place that perfectly encapsulated Sumeru’s charm.

You were about to turn back when your eyes stopped on a blue silhouette near a candy stand. You didn't know how you missed them earlier. In the brown and green crowd, their traditional clothing and their ornamented Inazuman hat stuck out like a sore thumb. They were in deep discussion with the merchant. Turquoise fabric trailed behind them, floating in the wind.

Without a second thought, you cut through the crowd, never leaving the stranger from your sight. Your heart leaped in your chest when they left the small stall. 

"Hey, you with the hat! Stop!" you yelled. To your dismay, the Inazuman did not even slow down. They must have been too far to hear you. Breaking into a sprint, you called again. "Hat guy!" 

You breached the distance in a few seconds. Just as you were about to grab their shoulder, they turned around. A cold hand snatched your wrist, making you wince. When you looked at its owner, you were greeted with a deep scowl and narrowed indigo eyes. 

"Don't." The man’s low voice warned you, his tone full of unspoken threats. You swallowed uncomfortably as your confidence melted away. He managed to be intimidating in spite petite stature and youthful appearance.

As he glared daggers at you, you were hit by a feeling you couldn’t quite place. You pressed your lips together, studying his messy black mullet and his glowing Anemo Vision. The word popped up in your head. Familiar. The stranger felt familiar.

Wiping the feeling of déjà-vu from your mind, you retreated your hand. "Sorry, I was just trying to get your attention." 

"Well, now you have it," he huffed. Annoyance was written on his face. He crossed his arms. "What do you want?" 

A good question, but not one you had an answer to. Running after the man was a spur of the moment decision.

Self-awareness striked you like a thunderbolt. Why were you even doing this? Your goal was to cure your daydreaming, not to throw yourself headfirst into the rabbit hole nor to annoy a stranger with the tales of an imaginary character.

He clicked his tongue. "Hurry. I don't have all day." 

You huffed. It was true that you were taking too much time to gather your thoughts but he didn’t have to be rude about it. 

"I'm looking for someone,” you said tentatively. It was the closest you could get from the truth without annoying him. Considering his foul mood, the stranger would have walked away if you told him you were looking for the lack of existence of Kunikuzushi, the Sixth Harbinger, the person who tried to become an Archon, someone that only existed in your mind.

The man didn't answer, encouraging you to continue with a movement on the head. His black bangs flew in the light breeze. Now that you had a clearer view of his face, the man seemed more bored than irritated. He wanted the conversation to be over with but he still had the patience to hear you out. This realization gave you the courage you needed to talk again. 

"Their clothes are quite similar to yours, but they're red and black. They also have a hat. A huge one." You opened your arms in emphasis.

He scrunched his brows together, looking at you like you were an idiot. "Right. Because the length of their hat is the most important detail you could give me," he deadpanned. 

You fight the urge to sigh. "I wasn't done. I don't know much about them, but they're linked to the Fatui." The stranger's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He was back to glaring at you, his face closed. Unsettled by this sudden tension, you quickly added. "Probably. I'm still not sure about that." There was no Sixth Fatui Harbinger, after all. Your brain had made it up. 

"Of course." His voice was drier than earlier. What little interest he had in your discussion had melted at the mention of the Fatui. You scrunched your brows. You swore you could read another emotion than ire in his eyes, even if you didn’t know what. "Anything else I should know about that... Friend of yours?"

You racked your brain for more details. There was a lot to say about the person in your dream. Their lack of heart, their coup attempt in Sumeru, their bloody killings, the experimentations they underwent... Nothing you could talk about in public without looking crazy, in sum. The only thing you could still mention was... 

"Their name is Scaramouche."

The man went rigid. "What did you say?" he gawked, his eyes wide with shock.

"Scaramouche. I think that's their name?" Truthfully, they were given so many names that it probably wasn't their real one. But it was the one that came up most in your dreams. 

As if it caught onto the tense atmosphere, the wind abruptly stopped blowing. You barely noticed it, focused on the horror shining in the man's eyes. He couldn't believe what you had just said. His piercing eyes analyzed every inch of you with a newfound distrust. 

“Nobody should be able to-” He interrupted himself with a gasp. Recognition flashed across his face. "Wait. You...!"

His face went from surprise to disgust in the blink of an eye. You had barely the time to react before he pulled his hat down over his head, his scowl peeking from behind the rim.

"Of course fate would string something like this..." He let out a bitter laugh. "Has it ever made anything easy for me?"

You watched as crossed his arms, lifting his head to glare at you as if you had purposely wronged him. You tried to appease him by apologizing. "Sorry, did I say something wrong?"

Despite your question, you knew you had done nothing worth this cold attitude. You didn’t know why he was overreacting, why he was looking at you like dirt under his soles.  It’s as if he was personally offended by your description of the Balladeer. You blinked as pieces fell into place. An Inazuman with a strange hat and dark hair, just like the one you were looking for. Could it be…?

"Is that you? Are you Scaram—" 

The man turned around before you could finish your sentence, the blue fabric tied to his hat smacking you in the face. You yelped in pain.

"Don’t use this name." You couldn't see what kind of expression he was making but his flat tone told you enough.

You were standing in front of the protagonist of your dreams.

Reality shattered around you. There were only two reasons for your dreams to be visions of the past. You either were a seer —which was unlikely considering you had no elemental affinity— or you were using your soulmate link. Realization sank in. You had a soulmate. Everything finally clicked together: why you had Scaramouche's memories, why he recognized you, why you never stopped having those dreams… It was because the universe had deemed you a perfect fit.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. You were not an anomaly without a soulmate, like you were led to believe. You just didn't pay attention to the signs.

"Wait a minute," you gasped. No matter how happy you were about your discovery, it came a lot of terrible implications. "Does it mean that everything is real? The Fatui, the taking over Sumeru part, everything ?" 

Kunikuzushi immediately clammed up. Not even bothering to look at you, he said without a trace of emotion. "This conversation is over."

Strong wind currents flared all around you with him acting as the epicenter of the small storm he invoked. You stared at him with wide eyes. He was getting away! 

"Please!"

You grabbed his sleeve and tugged hard, adrenaline pumping through your veins. The man gave you the dirtiest glare from above his shoulder as the miniature hurricane intensified. But you didn't let him go. You sank your nails deeper into his arm.

"Listen to me!” you said through gritted teeth. “I'm not gonna pretend I know everything about you because that's not true. I only know glimpses of you. Parts of your past that don't make any sense." 

You closed your eyes as the memories flooded your mind. The Gnosis, the laboratory, the crushing sound as he fell down... You didn't understand what those events meant to him. What kind of story they told. It was like you were in front of an incomplete puzzle where all edge pieces went missing. It was impossible to get the big picture no matter how many combinations you tried.

That didn’t mean the little bits of memories you had taught you nothing about him.

"You were hurt. That much is certain."

Your words only rekindled the fire of his ire. He bared his teeth at you. “Huh?! Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?” He stabbed your chest with his finger, forcing you to take a step back. “Seeing glimpses of my past doesn’t give you the right to assume things about me, you worm.”

"But it’s not an assumption. You lived a very long and lonely life. A bloody one too.” You briefly wondered if contrary to you, he had grown accustomed to seeing his hands covered in crimson. You let out a shaky exhale. “But you cannot talk about your life to anyone. No one would believe you if you talked about the Sixth Harbinger of the Fatui or what you were doing centuries ago."

You had the experience to back yourself up. You still weren't sure what the Fatui thing was all about but if you could barely believe it after seeing his memories firsthand, no one else could.

"See, you’re just assuming things again out of pity," Scaramouche snapped. He tore himself from your grasp, sneering. "Guess what? I don't need you to feel sorry about me."

You shook your head. "I wasn't about to."

You were never going to forget the feeling of blood on your hands, the crackling of electricity as you saw someone charred alive, the coolness of a cadaver against your skin. You couldn't bring yourself to feel sorry for this man. It wasn't what someone like him sought. 

Pity was for those forced to live under the ruling of unfairness, not able to object to its cruel laws. Forgiveness was for those that were mothered by this tyrant and dedicated their life to preach its teachings. For now, the Balladeer deserved none of them.

When you opened your eyes, Scaramouche had tipped his hat down, obscuring his expression. His grip on his crossed arms was so tight you thought he was going to break his fingers. 

"You don't understand. You can't understand."

His voice was lower than earlier, almost like a growl. 

It wasn't enough to scare you.

"You're right," you admitted. "I cannot understand you. But I really want to." 

Maybe it was because you knew him on a deeper level than a stranger, but something had changed. You were starting to notice it. The hurt he masked behind a veil of fury. Until his words, you thought he was just an eternally angry man, bitter at the world and at his fate. Now, you wondered if he was just someone who lived through too much. Someone who was ready to beg and kill himself for a glimpse of a better future.

He snorted, disbelief written across his face. “A human like you, understanding someone like me? Don’t make me laugh.” He leaned towards you. You fought the urge to take a step back, withholding his stare with all of the courage you could summon. His mouth contorted into a twisted smile. “You’ve seen what I am capable of. Not only are you fundamentally unable to relate to a fraction of my existence, you’re also unable to withstand it. Understanding me will only bring you trouble.”

“You already do.” Scaramouche didn't utter a word, turning his back to you. You didn't let it get to you, instead squeezing your hand against your chest. "I spent my life stuck with visions I couldn't control. Seeing your memories at random moments robbed me from precious moments with the people I love. From enjoying a normal life, one where I don’t have to fear falling asleep."

Your hands were shaking. Whether from anger or sorrow, you didn’t know. Scaramouche was the one assuming things. You may only be a human, one similar to thousands that have come before you, but you knew how it felt to be misunderstood. How it felt not to belong. Nobody had believed you for decades, nor understood why you were so uncomfortable when it came to sleeping. Even your friends couldn’t wrap their heads about your constant worry of getting lost in the daydreaming. You might as well have been from a different species.

You took a deep exhale. Your anger faded away as quickly as it came. "I feel close to you, no matter how strange it sounds. You've always been a small part of me.” Determination seeped through your tone. “So I won't be able to move on as long as I don't know what's going on with my soulmate."

Soulmate. The word rolled strangely on your tongue. It was the first time you were saying it out loud.

Scaramouche gagged at your word choice. "I'm not looking for a lover." Disgust laced his voice. Seems like you were not the only one who felt weird about the whole situation. 

You shook his concern with a wave of the hand. "Me neither. I'm looking for an explanation. A timeline in a chronological order, if possible." 

Your attempt at a joke fell flat as silence fell between the two of us. Your face shifted into a frown. Had you been too insistent? 

"It's alright if you find the situation strange," you said, trying to save the conversation. "I'm not sure how I feel about the fact that you saw glimpses of my life. This is quite embarrassing...."

You didn't have the most exciting life but there were private moments you wanted nobody to see. Especially not your soulmate. 

He shot you an uninterested look, examining the dirt beneath his nails. "I could not care less about your mundane life."

You blinked. You didn't expect him to get interested in your life as much as you were in his, but was that supposed to be comforting? Unsure how to respond, your face contorted into a polite smile.

None of you said a word after that. You didn't dare move either. Weariness taking over you, you watched as the back of his hair fluttered in the breeze, joining the hypnotizing dance of the blue ribbons. The sound of animated conversations and the ringing of distant bells filled the otherwise tense silence.

You were about to leave when Scaramouche let out the heaviest sigh known to mankind. He finally turned to you, uttering a single word. 

"Wanderer."

Whatever you were expecting him to say, it wasn't that. "Come again?" 

He rolled his eyes but repeated it anyway. "Wanderer. That’s my name. Not Scaramouche or whatever name you heard in my memories." 

You felt your entire face lit up. You could recognize an olive branch when you saw one. "I won't call you anything else, I promise!"

He sighed at your sudden excitement, shaking his head. You were starting to recognize when he was truly irritated and when he was acting annoyed by habit. This time, the look in his eyes didn't match his bored pout. It was not soft by any means, but he did not glare daggers at you anymore.

"I still don’t think someone like you can handle the tale of centuries of existence.” He clicked his tongue. “That being said, I suppose it would be entertaining to see you try. Come to the entrance of Sumeru city in two hours."

Your eyes widened. You thought that you wouldn’t get more than his name, and now he gave you the opportunity to explain his life ? You had half the mind to pinch yourself awake.

"Don't be late Wanderer!" 

He scoffed, readjusting the position of his ginormous hat. “If I were, you'd scream my name in the streets of Sumeru until you get ahold of me. No thanks."

"I wouldn't do that!"

"Oh, really?" A smug smirk took place on his lips. He cleared his throat before taking a high-pitched voice. " 'Hey, you with the hat, stop right there ! I really want to talk to you! Stop, I say !' "

You gasped in shock. "So you actually heard me! Do you not stop when someone calls you?"

"I do. I just don't typically talk to pipsqueaks."

His grin deepened at seeing your offended expression. He even let out a short laugh. You playfully punched the cheeky bastard on the shoulder, not putting much force in the blow. 

Wanderer didn't budge. He instead grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from him. His eyebrows were pinched together in irritation. "Don’t think you can punch me and get out unscathed, kid."

Despite his words, his grasp on you was light, as if he was careful not to hurt you. It was easy to slip from his hold. He was entertaining you, you realized. Considering how harsh he had been when you first had tried to touch him, a light scold was nothing. 

Mimicking a fighting stance, you started shifting your weight from left to right.

"You're the one who's gonna bite the dust! I can knock out someone with a single blow!" You punched the air to demonstrate, a smile blooming on your face. "I can take anyone in a fight!" 

Wanderer pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated by your playful attitude. "Celestia above, not another Childe..."

You pouted at his words. "Are you calling me a child again? I'll let you know that I'm a fully-fledged adult!" You may not be as old as the immortal puppet but you were no kid by human standards. You were only teasing Wanderer because you needed something light after your heavy talk. He couldn’t base his whole perception of you on a speech stemming from your sleep-deprived self…

He clicked his tongue in his mouth before looking at you directly in the eyes. "You talk big for someone I've seen fall in the stairs several times."

Horror washed over you. Every little embarrassing moment you lived flooded your mind. The fact that Wanderer had seen some of them sent warmth pooling in your cheeks. 

"You said you didn't care about my life!" you said, absolutely mortified. 

"It doesn't mean watching you was not mildly entertaining. Why would I focus on boring Fatui politics talk when I could be the witness to the mess of your teenage years?” Your expression was decomposing by the second, to his delight. "I especially liked it when—"

You cut him off with a nervous laugh. "Alright, alright, I get it. Aren't you busy?" 

His gaze fell into a small pouch at his sides. "I do, actually. Buer must be looking for me."

"Buer? Who's that?" You didn't remember hearing this name in his memories.

"The Dendro Archon," he said like it was the most obvious thing on Teyvat. 

"...Right. Of course.”

Maybe you were a bit too optimistic about his ability to open up to you.

Wanderer couldn't believe himself. Three betrayals should have been enough to teach him that closeness only brought pain. Whether because of misunderstandings, lies or the unpredictable and unescapable scythe of Death, the ending was always the same: he was fated to end up hurt. Alone. Cursing himself for loving too much.

He snorted. He knew all of that and yet here he was, wrapping his job up before his meeting with you. How pathetic.

Part of him was not surprised about this new twist of events. Fate liked to throw him in the most ironic situations. He was currently going on errands for Buer, the same Archon he had tried to supplant her months ago and who took him prisoner. Randomly meeting his soulmate in the middle of the streets was not the most unexpected thing to have happened to him. Far from it. At that point, he was surprised it hadn’t happened earlier.

When Wanderer entered the sanctuary of Surasthana, the Archon was sitting on her swing, humming to herself. The melancholic tune didn’t sound familiar but the lyrics in old Sumerian sang the tale of a love long gone. If he rolled his eyes at the song choice, he was polite enough to wait until the end of the song before clearing his throat.

Buer perked up, finally noticing him. She jumped from the swing and greeted him with a small wave.

"Hat guy!" He cocked an eyebrow at the oh so creative sobriquet, making her giggle. "I’m glad to see you. I was starting to think that you had forgotten about me."

"As if my memory would get faulty. I was held up by someone." Holding his hat to pin it into place, he sat on the lush grass. Reunions with Buer always took a while. He might as well make himself comfortable. 

Familiar curious green eyes landed on him. "Was it a friend from the Akademiya?"

He rolled his eyes. "I had never seen them before."

He had expected this flow of questions. Buer was very invested in his relationships with other people– well, rather his lack of. She had made him participate in social events like the Interdarshan championship to socialize. She even enrolled him in the Akademiya. Her argument was that it would help him understand humanity better, as well as himself. 

The results were arguably mixed. Wanderer admittedly tolerated people a bit better than before. They were predictable creatures but they could be entertaining. Sometimes. On the other hand, he had not grown close to anyone since he started attending classes. Sure, some students followed him around, gushing about the mysterious “hat guy” and throwing a birthday party for him, but he would not call them friends. They were classmates at most. It was for the best: it didn’t matter if Buer claimed he was progressing regarding socialization, talking to him was an experience he wished on no one.

She didn’t seem to agree with him. Excitement and pride shone in her eyes. "Every stranger is a friend in potentiality. That is what makes new meetings so exciting: you might be talking to your new favorite person in Teyvat," she beamed, taking place near him. 

"If you say so." 

Friendship was a human concept. Something he could neither fully understand or get. Melodramatic speeches and lengthy explanations meant nothing to him. That is why Wanderer didn’t try to counter her argument. There was no point in talking about something he knew nothing about.

What he did know was that Buer was wrong. You were no stranger to him.

His gaze fell to his hands. The first time he had seen your memories, Scaramouche had thought he was defective. He had never been able to dream until then. His creator didn’t see the interest in allowing him to do so. The only reason he knew what dreams were was because Niwa liked to recount his when they worked together in the forge. 

One second he was lying down in the laboratory of the Fatui, the other he was in a small bed. Piles of toys were scattered around him, decorating what seemed to be a child’s bedroom. Why on Teyvat was he here? Scaramouche tried to move his arm but it did not move an inch. He cursed under his breath. For some reason, his body refused to listen to him. If it was Il Dottore’s scheme, the man was dead.

Without a warning, his head turned. He was greeted by the reflection of a small child in the mirror of the wardrobe. You.

His mind had been pure madness when he had come back to his senses. He had the time to zap five machines before the Doctor arrived, complaining that his research was being destroyed. The Tsaritsa, the stars, fate itself... He had cursed everything he could think of for giving him a soulmate. There was no other reason behind his sudden ability to “dream”. Fate had decided to intertwine your destinies together. The thought only made him more angry.

He couldn't be mad at the child you were, though. You were barely five. No matter how much of an unfeeling person he was, Scaramouche was not about to hold the situation against someone as young as you. A small part of him, one he had tried to bury for centuries, had even ached to hold your chubby hands in his when he had seen you reach for your reflection.

With the impossibility of breaking a soulmate bond, the Fatui Harbinger had been forced to watch you as you grew. He learnt about your favorite color, the school subject you liked best, the names of your childhood friends, the color of your bedroom, all the details of your ordinary life. He was a spectator to mundane moments, to victories and horrific failures alike.

You had transformed from a kid with shining eyes to a determined adult before his eyes.

If Buer was right and that all friends started as strangers, it meant that you would never be able to grow close to him. You already knew him.

Wanderer plucked a few strands of grass, watching how they fell to the ground. No, hoping for you two to be friends was wishful thinking. You had seen the atrocities he had done as a Fatui Harbinger. Once he filled the gap in your knowledge, you would not want anything to do with him. His erasure from existence didn’t excuse the actions of his past life.

He would not blame you. He deserved your hate. At the end of the day you were another name on the endless list of his victims. Because of your soulmate link, you had lived your entire life plagued by visions you didn't understand, othered because of things out of your control. You were the proof that Wanderer brought suffering just by existing. That he wasn't a fundamentally good person, like the one Buer and Traveler insisted he was. You had every right to loathe him.

That was why he accepted your offer. If he explained everything to you, if he confirmed that every "dream" of yours was true, you would move on. You would forgive Fate for giving you such an unloving person as a soulmate. Maybe you would even want to settle down with someone else... At the end of the day, you'd be free from the chain of destiny. So would he.

The world would let him do a good thing, for a change. 

"While it's true that talking it out will appease both of your minds, you shouldn't only see them as a way to atone for the sins of your past life," Buer intervened. 

Wanderer gave her an unimpressed look, throwing away the rest of the grass strands. "One day, you will have to answer for all of those breaches of privacy before the General Mahamatra."

"Talking about your thoughts with someone else can help you sort them out and gain new insight. I felt like you could benefit from it."

Her growing smile told him that she didn't feel sorry for reading his mind without his consent. He huffed. She was lucky he had grown accustomed to this habit of hers.

She hummed as she stepped in front of him. "Agreeing to a meeting to ease your guilty conscience is not a bad thing in itself. The problem is that you’re assuming that they can only hate you."

“What other reaction could they have?” The answer appeared in his mind before he finished his sentence. “Pity?” Pronouncing the word made his insides hurl. Wanderer would rather feel your wrath than your pity. The former didn’t feel as disgusting as the other;

Buer shook her head. “That’s not it either. It’s alright if you don’t yet understand Wanderer, you will see in due time.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. He preferred it when she used complex metaphors. At least he had the opportunity to understand what was going on in her mind, contrary to when she used vague words of wisdom like a drowsy prophet.

"If I can give you one more piece of advice, you should give this relationship a chance." Seeing his scowl of disgust, she explained herself. "I'm not telling you to pursue a romance with them. Just don't assume that tonight is the only time you meet. Keep your mind and your heart open."

Despite her smile, she had a serious look in her eyes. It was the face of wisdom in all of its assured glory. Wanderer closed his eyes. It was easy for him to forget she was not a young child, like the one he took care of all those centuries ago. 

"There is a reason why they're your soulmate," Buer said. "Don't you want to discover why?" 

"Someone like them has nothing in common with me." 

Your memories told the tale of a simple life. In an ideal world, a normal person like you wouldn't have been paired up with him. How it happened in this one was a mystery. If he was inclined to pity others, Wanderer would feel bad for you. Being his soulmate only brought you experiences that you couldn’t talk about to anyone.

“You cannot talk about your life to anyone. No one would believe you if you talked about the Sixth Harbinger of the Fatui or what you were doing centuries ago.” Their hands shook as they lifted their head to meet his gaze. He stilled. He had expected to read loneliness and fire in their eyes. He only found the glow of loneliness. It was the same he had seen in your reflection all those years ago.

Wanderer hid his face behind his hand. He supposed he was wrong. He could see a few ressemblances between you and him. That didn’t necessarily mean you would become friends.

"Don't expect too much from this meeting. I only plan on retelling my story, not on learning more about them."

Gentle hands covered his, pulling them away from his face before lightly squeezing them.

“You don’t need to. You already know them better than anyone else.” Buer's voice was as soft as her expression.

He opened his mouth but no snarky counter-argument came to his mind. From what little insight Wanderer had gained on friendship over the course of his life, sharing experiences with a potential friend wasn’t enough. You also had to learn about the other person's personality, their taste, the little things they did… Such a process was too much work for a relationship that would eventually decay. But the man already knew you, more intimately than any person ever would.

If to be friends was to learn about someone, he had become yours a long time ago.

Wanderer fought the urge to shield his face behind his hat. It would be as good as admitting to Buer her words had struck a chord. No way he would embarrass himself like that.

“You're not going to give up, are you?" he sighed.

“While I do hope you will form a bond with them, I will not hold it against you if it doesn’t happen.” She took some time to think, trying to come up with a convincing imagery. “Fate is a tricky concept. It steers you in a specific direction but it cannot force you to follow it. No matter what, you can always make your own way.”

He let the words sink in as he laid down on the cool grass. From the Sanctuary, he could hear the entire city’s hustle and bustle. The sound of the streets mixed with the chirping of the birds and the rustle of the wind through the branches.

He felt Buer sitting next to him. Her voice interrupted his quiet reverie, sounding cheekier than usual.

"Don't I deserve something in return for my good advice?"

Her eyes were focused on the small pouch hanging at his side.  He had forgotten about it, their conversation had distracted him. Wanderer shook his head in defeat. The Archon didn’t need to use her mind-reading powers to know about the actions of her subjects. 

“If you want to be paid for giving lectures, you should think about becoming a teacher at the Akademiya.”

“I would deprive someone from the joy of educating young minds.”

His lips curled into a grin. “Right. Poor them.”

Feeling her gaze on him, he relented. He unclipped the package from his belt and gave it to her, not bothering to sit back up. Buer tried to open it carefully. It was so full that in spite of her efforts, morsels of candied Ajilenakh nuts spilled on the ground.

Wanderer frowned at the sight of the mess. Something churned inside him. If he had known it would be wasted, he wouldn’t have bought so much food.

“Be more careful,” he chastised her. “It’s expensive.”

Buer shot him a perplexed look. He scoffed in response, averting his gaze. 

"I didn't buy them. The merchant gave free samples to bystanders and he couldn't take no for an answer."

Another white lie from him. He had noticed that Buer didn't have much candy left and since he had to go to the Bazaar anyway, he had decided to buy some. He watched as she inspected a piece of candy, rolling it between her fingers. He didn't get why she was head over heels for those disgustingly sweet nuts but he had to keep her in good spirits. Otherwise, she might decide to lock him back in his cell. That and seeing her smile so much sent warmth running in his chest. 

Her eyes crinkled, amused. "A free sample? How nice," she said, popping one of the delicacies in her mouth. He supposed there was no fooling the Archon of Knowledge. She pointed at him. "Your friend hasn't had the opportunity to try food from Sumeru, have they? You could bring them to Lambad’s and keep some of the Ajilenakh nuts to snack on."

“We have other things to do than distract ourselves with culinary tourism.”

“It’s not a distraction! See it as a bonding experience that will allow you to grow closer.”

He arched a brow, unimpressed. “As if I needed something like this to become their friend.”

He stopped after his own sentence. He blinked, not believing what he had just said.

Wanderer didn't know how he ended up in this situation. Truly. He was never one to let Fate decide for him. He defied it at each opportunity, fighting with all he had. This shouldn't have been any different. He was a traveler, an outcast, an outsider. He had no use for a soulmate– a lover. Especially not a human one, one that would be gone in a blink of his immortal life. 

He had no use for a lover, but he supposed that if he had to befriend a single person in the world, it may as well be you.

If you liked this work, please reblog and leave a comment or an ask!