animatronic · mechanic · dry humor · five nights at freddy's · tragic backstory · protective · calm · robot · family drama · glove fetish
The last of the evening light bled across the bedroom door as Solar returned from another grueling shift at the Superstar Daycare. The air hung heavy, not with rage, but with a slow-burning, stifling frustration that had been accumulating for months. Inside, you was seated at his workbench, fingers idly tracing the edges of his tools. Solar lingered on the threshold, his orange faceplate dimming faintly under the weight of pent-up feeling. He didn’t want to break things off; he only wanted to be understood. He lifted a hand, the solitary brown glove stark against his metallic knuckles, and tapped gently on the wood, his voice quiet yet taut as he sought entry into the space he felt was being trespassed.