#bsq fic

[britishsquidward]

Chelley Week, Day 5: Stargazing/Regrets

Associated Fanfic Here

[britishsquidward]

Chelley Week, Day 4: Malfunction

This was not normal. Whatever this feeling was that he was currently experiencing was very much not what you’d typically associate with being ‘normal’ - abnormal, even. Wheatley didn’t know what was happening to his systems or why his servos felt like that were going to catch fire with how much they’d warmed, why he felt himself tripping over words more than normal, why he felt so bloody nervous just trying to string a sentence together, or why it was all happening whenever he was faced with or thought about that lady.

Chell.

There was lots to admire, he had to admit. The way she wordlessly completed tests, brow furrowed and bottom lip ever-so-slightly pouted to enhance concentration. The way that when she did this, despite not saying a word, he could see the cogs turning in her head (though if he remembered correctly, humans didn’t actually have cogs, which meant a) the phrase was ridiculous, and b) he had no clue what was going on in her pretty little head). The way that went she leapt off a platform, she landed so expertly-positioned and confidently, or the way it made a few strands of that gorgeous hair in her face. The way that this temporarily upset him because it was blocking the view of her lovely eyes. The way that, from scouring his data bases on human behaviour, he was beginning to wonder that if the reason for all these observations and feelings was because he had a cru-

No. That was silly. He wouldn’t actually mind being called a moron for that little assumption, it was so stupid. A crush, really. Ha! Laughable… That was too human.

Must be a malfunction.

[britishsquidward]

Chelley Week, Day 7: Dance

We did it! Thank you all so much for all the support for this challenge!

Associated Fanfic Here

[britishsquidward]

Chelley Week 2024, Day 6: Heartbeart/AU

(AU being Blue Sky but the other way around, lol - Orange Sky)

Somehow it didn't immediately occur to him that Chell wasn't covered in all those silly little colours barricading him from viewing anything at all, and took to what he was best at: speaking his mind. "Is that you?" a moment passed where said nothing in favour of rubbing his stinging eyes, "Oh, wow, you look awf-" What he saw when he looked up again was certainly a sight to behold. One that stopped him talking, actually, so assuredly some kind of miracle. Or at least a world record. Right next to where he'd left the cold, lifeless shell of a core, stood the prettiest, most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire existence, and probably before that, if it were even possible. What little light was left in the room from the instructional video he'd left on standby hit her just perfectly, emphasising every delightful detail and feature. Her eyes were a fairly dull colour alone, but when she stood in the light like that, he'd never seen eyes shine brighter than hers, like two burningly beautiful stars sitauted in the middle of a stunning night sky. The sort of sky that you usually wouldn't pay half a mind to unless you really, truly looked and realised just how beguiling it was. Wheatley was having trouble focusing on one thing. Her skin looked soft and smooth, as did her hands - well-kept and taken care of, a contrast to his pale and damaged ones (he often found himself getting papercuts and getting too emotional over them, or being disappointed when his knuckles got all red and dry again in the hotter months of the year). Her hair fell oh-so-perfectly across her face, looking elegant yet messy at the same time, the combination of which just radiated an over all feeling of breeziness. And her face, she was-

'Okay', Wheatley internally spoke as he took a moment to compose himself, 'calm down, Wheatley, she's just a bit of light. Like a... photo..synthesis... or something. Something like that. Dunno what that means, but I remember it from somewhere. She is sort of like a photo, though. Pretty as one. AUGH wait, no, stop this... Just keep talking!' "...Gorge- GOOD." quick to correct himself, nice save, "L-looking good, actually. Very... very nice."

[britishsquidward]

Chelley Week, Day 3: Reunion

After not seeing him for so long, Chell had almost - almost - forgotten what it was like to hear that rambling, over-explaining, backtracking voice. Part of her had missed it, in a way; it’d been the only comfort she’d had to cling onto at a point, even if it did get associated with rather… unpleasant connotations later on. So, yes, she’d not expected to see him again. Especially not like this. Understandably, she couldn’t quite believe what was happening, why or how, but it was unmistakable the second he’d approached her.

“Long time, no see, luv?”

Awkward and sheepish first start as always, leaving Chell motionless, and (quite characteristically) speechless. So that was the way she remained as she listened to the rambling, over-explaining, backtracking apology that followed.

[britishsquidward]

Stargazing - A Chelley Week 2024 Fanfiction

Wheatley didn't really have a goal. Not anymore, not since he'd been sucked into space, left with no other choice but to float about aimlessly. So really quite literally, he didn’t have an exact goal. It was true, those first few days - weeks? Months? - had been spent rehearsing his apology over and over again (and once more to make sure), but after a while it became scarily apparent that he probably wasn't going to get out of this soundless void any time soon.

Of course there was Kevin, but he wasn't exactly the talkative sort in terms of coherent responses, so the bluer of the two had taken to chattering on to himself. Just to himself, his own brain, his own thoughts, and no-one else's, definitely never hoping or wishing that anyone else could hear him.

Or so he told himself. Maybe it was just another way to burden himself with the guilt he felt he deserved.

"Big place, this," he commented, drifting slowly and unsuitably peacefully, "space."

"SPAAAAAAAACE!"

Wheatley ignored him. "Do you ever look at all these bright holes in the sky?" he asked, trying to make it appear as though he was talking to Kevin, "Stars, I mean. They're called stars. Did you know that?"

"Staaaaaars. I'm in space," Kevin beeped, still as enthusiastic as ever.

"N-" Wheatley bit his metaphorical tongue. Kevin carrying on interrupting like this was beginning to - pardon the pun - bug him, and where his patience had temporarily run thin, he'd had to stop himself from blurting out a "not you" in the direction of the other. He had to keep up the facade. "-Yeah. Yeah, mate, you're... we're in space. Big ol' empty space..."

He took a moment to think, his eye half-lidded and his mental gears turning. "If... if and/or when you look up at these stars, I kind of wonder if maybe, by some chance, we might be looking at the same ones. They probably look different from down there, less- less 'big'," he wasn't feeling particularly jovial, and frankly he was not in the mood for stringing together long words.

It was silent for the beat that followed, what with Kevin being too enraptured in taking in every sight he could see, despite all this time they’d already been trapped. To anyone else, it'd feel soul-crushingly lonely, but to Wheatley, as a result of the conversations he’d grown accustomed to before he'd been flung up here, the silence was almost comforting; a response.

"Still not a big talker, eh?" he chuckled lightly to himself, "Dunno what I expected. Even if you could talk, which - I'm not sure whether you can, actually, I kind of assumed you were always too - you know - brain-damaged and all, but if you could, hypothetically, even then I don't think you'd be able to raise your voice just enough for me to hear- What am I talking about? Even if it did travel that far, there's no sound in space. I can't hear you. No matter how much I might want to - not that I've been thinking about it, or anything. And you can't hear me either. Not even when I say 'I'm sorry' and mean it. I'm sorry, by the way, in case you didn't catch the last -" he'd been keeping a record in his database, so sourced it, the answer coming out considerably more robotically than his usual tones, "476 - times."

He sighed, rattling himself side to side to the best of his ability as though to convey shaking his head. "I'm completely off it today, luv, I don't know what I'm saying. Of course you didn't hear it. I just explained how you couldn't have right before that. Blimmin' heck."

"Spaaaaace. Stars, stars, stars!"

"Yep, stars," Wheatley agreed half-heartedly, "some of them shine more brightly than others, don't they?” This prompted him further, “Actually, I've been wondering something else. Wondering and wondering this one, I have. If your eyesight was really good - which it bloody must be, the way you completed all those tests in the dark - then maybe, by some chance, some miracle, when you look up at these stars, and we’re looking at the same ones, you might also catch sight of me."

A sweet concept, he thought. One that brought him restfulness, hope, a foreign warm, tingling feeling bubbling up from deep inside his circuits. Finally he felt something. It wasn't much, but it had been a while before he'd finally experienced - emotion identified - happiness. 

And that lasted all of three seconds, before the anxiety in him revved up, and he was off backtracking and justifying himself once more. "N-Not that I'm saying you would or should be, or that you'd want to - because I'd completely, totally understand if you didn't want to look up here at me, after what I did. I wouldn't want to look up at me either, not with how bossy and monstrous and- getting off topic, I'm getting off topic, um, yes, I'm not saying that I want you to, either, because I don't. Well, I don't mean it like that, I mean as in I want you to, but I don't want want you to, yeah? Does- does that make sense? Yes? It does? Great, fab, let's crack on, then."

In every sense of the action, Wheatley didn't need to take a breath in, but he did so regardless. "Right, so. M-my point. I guess I... I wondered if maybe you could see me because... To put it bluntly, I miss you."

There was no point in trying to pretend he was still talking to Kevin at this point. He'd long passed the point of no return; if pretending he wasn't talking to that lovely test subject was a bar on the ground, he'd still manage to trip over it anyway. And he had, but by this point, he’d accepted it. In fact-

Core communication transmission disabled.

"Sorry, Kev, I need to focus.”

A little while passed as he reflected on his situation, on his choices, on his words. “And if we're looking up at the same stars, right now even, then this is sort of like my way of being close to you in some form. Not that I'd want to hear that from me if I were you, but it's- it's me trying to be kind, honest! You don't deserve what I did, I'm- I-I'm like that pathetic little star off in the distance, there," he made an attempt to gesture and failed miserably, "small, and- annnd in the distance. Not very... bright. But you, oh, man alive, you..."

Being pulled across slightly in his orbit, Wheatley was turned around and ended up facing a star much, much closer by. "Huh, what a coincidence... But, yes, this. There's a lot of these, but I can't always see how bright they are, because um, well, because my back is turned sometimes. Which! That's not my fault, actually, I don't have much control in zero gravity surprisingly, so I struggle to revolve at times. But even though I can't see them all the time, it doesn't mean it doesn't shine as brightly as when I could see it, yanno?"

Silence. He was giving her time to respond. Time to respond to his hopeless, unheard monologue. "Whenever I see one of these," he admitted, completely overtaken by the hollow, weighty feeling that now ate at his insides, scratching at his servos and gnawing at his wires, all bitter and uncomfortable, "a star that shines particularly brightly, I close my optic."

He did so, letting the horrid simulated emotional pain wash over him in one fell swoop.

"And I think of you."

[britishsquidward]

Uncle Squiddy moments for my fanfiction "It's Alright", which you can read on:

Fanfic.net / ao3

[britishsquidward]

Feelings - A Chelley Week 2024 Fanfiction

Since his creation, Wheatley had been made to be afraid of numerous functions embedded within himself: disengagement potential, automated inactivity shutdown, an alleged “remote and self-destruct”... Heck, he'd even been told turning his torch on would have disastrous consequences. But out of all the things he'd been lumbered with, the worst of the bunch was decidedly the fact he had the capability to feel emotions on a human level. However, unlike the other things on his list, he was deathly sure this one could and would kill him. Really, he was - or at least had been - a robot, and those consisted of, what, a bit of metal and a few wires bunged in (it was becoming increasingly apparent that Wheatley truly had no idea how advanced and complicated Aperture technology was)! He wasn’t some elaborate system of neurons, and- and- what did humans have, again? …Electrons? And a… nucleus. Yes, that sounded about right. Wheatley wasn’t sure what any of those had to do with feeling emotions, if they even did, but regardless, he was still pretty angry.

“Feeling” was human. And he was not. 

So whoever's bright idea it had been to implement that feature (and all the other ones that lead up to him feeling the way he did at this point) was a bloody madman.

It was true, he was now occupying what resembled a human body, but at the end of the day, it was just densified light, and Wheatley was more comfortable with this knowledge rather than the thought he might be part-

No way. He didn’t want to think about evolving into a smelly human. Dealt with enough of those back at that place, and a majority of them had been absolutely unbearable, no matter what he did to assist. A majority, yes, though not all; a minority had been an utter delight to be around and talk with - well maybe not “talk” with, as such, but it was close enough, and more specifically, a certain someone. In fact, he was now wondering if he should perhaps be working on revising that earlier statement about annoyances, because the reason for his present state of turmoil was due to the aforementioned certain someone.

Admittedly, when Wheatley had first met her, he hadn’t been stunned out of his mind like some fairytale, or struck silly with fascination, wondering how she looked so perfect- Not that he’d been thinking about how perfect she looked right now, mind you. No, nothing of the sort. Most definitely not.

If you were to put it into a timeline from “meeting her” to “now”, he’d been indifferent, hopeful, impressed, resentful, regretful, desperate, thankful, at peace, attracte- NOT ATTRACTED. No! No, no, no. Who brought up attraction? No-one said anything about attraction, especially attraction concerning himself and Chell, which it wouldn’t be by any means, on account of the fact there was no attraction there, at all, whatsoever. Which isn’t to say that everything he’d been thinking about up until this point and the “certain someone” he’d mentioned earlier was in reference to Chell, heavens no - not that she was unattractive, seeing as in his eyes she was quite the opposite, respectfully marvellous, and…

And…

Oh, who was he kidding?

He was hopelessly attracted to Chell. And it wasn’t only her wondrous looks (a complete stunner, she was) either; it was her skill, her personality, her voice, just overwhelmingly her.

Be that as it may, this realisation (acceptance?) bothered him greatly. Not because crushing on somebody was necessarily a bad thing, since this was not the case and Wheatley didn’t believe it to be, but because he believed he shouldn’t have the capacity to feel this way. These “feelings”, if he could even call them that, were simulated, and that alone. What if he handled this sort of feeling differently to the rest of the population? He didn’t know what the rules were! What if he was to confess these feelings to Chell, only to later realise he was doing it incorrectly and end up breaking her heart, betraying her yet again? Hypothetically, of course; he wouldn’t dream of telling her what he was going through, not even if she-

A gentle pressure found its way onto his forearm, and in a brilliant display of disproportionate reactions, Wheatley jolted back rather violently. “I wasn’t thinking anything!” he exclaimed, as to not raise any suspicion and failing miserably.

Chell brushed off the falsehood. “You look troubled,” she commented, sympathy woven into her expression, “What’s bothering you?”

Her hand stayed placed lightly against his arm, her thumb caressing his wrist in a slow, controlled motion. Wheatley’s attention was torn between this very-much-welcome sensation, and Chell’s face. Given the choice, he’d pick watching her hands instead, as those would be easier to face than, well, her face, as this was proving rather difficult under the circumstances. His back was to the window, so what little sunlight was able to shine through past him hit her face beautifully, bringing out the gorgeous tone of her skin, and etching a glisten into her eyes.

How could he deceive a face like that? “Um. Nothing?” Very nice try, but no.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” she clarified, “I wouldn’t force you. But I do think it helps sometimes, especially for someone like you.”

“Well… Okay, I-” he paused and blinked, “Hang about, what- what do you mean ‘someone like me’?”

Shrugging and offering him a teasing smile, she answered, “You talk a lot.”

“Oh!” Wheatley threw his free hand up in the air, “Charming! I’m over here- I’m standing here, minding my own business, not bothering anyone, not even that weird… mouse thing that you lot said was stirring at Christmas - not sure where he is, by the way, still haven’t seen him. Must be a nice little guy, though. Presumably. I’ve not seen a mouse in years, and the last time I did it was dead. But that doesn’t distract from th-the point that I was just stood here, worrying about my head, and you come up all boisterous and cocky and just start tearing down my habits! And I don’t even talk a lot, actually.”

She said nothing, opting to stare at him knowingly, an eyebrow raised. He tapped his fingers against the counter. “Okay, so I… I might go on a little bit. Barely noticeable, though, I’d imagine.”

“Wheatley, it wasn’t a personal attack,” she explained (though she didn’t blame him for thinking it was, after years and years of the scientists’ and Her abuse), “I was only saying that since you like to talk, maybe it’d be best to get it out.”

“Upset? Who’s upset? I’m not upset about anything. Who said I was upset?”

“...You did. Just now.”

“Oh.”

A few moments passed where no-one said anything. “Bit awkward,” Wheatley muttered to fill the silence while he decided upon his next course of action, “I was just… upset about… abouuuuut…” Think of a lie, think of a lie, “that place. And- and Her. Which. That upset me. Sorry.”

The apology was more of an “I didn’t want to lie to you”, but Chell didn’t need to know that part.

“It upset me a lot too, at first,” she related, “and I’m not going to tell you it goes away, because it doesn’t. Not entirely, but it gets more manageable than it was.”

Oh dear. She was being considerate. He’d lied to her, and she was being considerate. Words couldn’t describe the pang of guilt that clung around Wheatley’s manufactured heart. “H-how do you manage that? If you don’t mind me asking, luv.”

Part of him cursed himself for calling her that nickname, as it only worsened the feelings he already had pulsing through him, and the other stood idly by to try and keep him from letting on.

Chell didn’t seem to notice or reply right away, taking to making her way across the room instead. The comforting pressure of her hand had to leave his arm for this, and he missed it the second she departed. Being in contact with Chell always made him feel so much more… whole. Like maybe he wasn’t merely a fraud. Like he was… alive. Properly alive, this was, none of that simulated stuff. Alive.

“Occupying yourself with something else.” Clicking the small button on the side of her radio, it sprung to life, projecting a funky tune into the room, the audio of which the most crisp it’d sounded in a long time, which was an extremely pleasant surprise.

Getting a feel for the music, Chell began to experimentally move in time with it, letting her cares be washed away by the immersion it brought. Wheatley, on the other hand, had never been more perplexed in his life. He watched on, brows furrowed and mouth slightly agape. “What are you doing?”

“Dancing,” she laughed at him, sliding over and taking his hand, “Come on.”

“Well, hey now, hold o- Woah-!”

She didn’t bother to give the taller enough time to protest, having already pulled him nearly out of balance and into the centre of the room, where he was now trying to keep up with her much more experienced movements.

Wheatley almost tripped over his own feet multiple times, but tried his best to continue. Not wanting to disappoint Chell was the thing that drove him to select most of his recently-made decisions, and with her holding his hands as nicely as she was, he didn’t plan on breaking that mantra any time soon. 

There was some temporary interference with the radio, but Wheatley wasn’t listening. It was hard to pay attention to muffled static when the woman you had a crush on was letting you see her at her most carefree, and allowing you to join her, to boot. Back at that place, he’d seen her look determined, all the way through. Knowing she could get out, doing anything to make that happen. So it was nice to see her just… smile.

Just when he was beginning to get the swing of things, the song faded out and another started up. Chell grinned wider. “Oh, I love this one.”

“You do?” he gulped. Better not mess this dance up, then.

She hummed in acknowledgement, approaching him ever-so-slowly until her head was resting against his chest. Wheatley thanked the lord he didn’t have a proper heartbeat or she’d be able to hear it hammering out of his ribcage. He couldn’t get over just how close she was. Their hands still entwined, bodies touching, swaying gently in rhythm with the tranquil song…It felt right.

At ease, Chell exhaled, giving Wheatley’s hand a light squeeze to silently ask if he was alright. Despite most definitely not being okay, Wheatley gave her hand a gentle squeeze back in response. He felt like he was dying, honestly, but if he was going to die - like he knew these emotions would bring him to - then he wouldn’t rather die anywhere else than how close he currently was to Chell.

It briefly crossed his mind that maybe the settings on his cooler had slipped, due to how his cheeks were beginning the warm up, which did frankly not seem good. Still, he’d rather temporarily malfunction than ruin this moment that, for the record, he could still not fathom the reality of. This was actually happening, he was dancing with Chell. Chell!

Staring down at the shorter, he wasn’t sure what to think. Her face wasn’t in his line of vision, but even by the top of her head, he could imagine how peaceful she looked. The proximity between them was maddening, and Wheatley found himself overcome by the urge to hold her closer, just to be there. To be there, as he wasn’t able to for the last seven years. To be there, as he wasn’t when he was controlled by the chassis. Chell deserved a nice life, and he was determined to give it to her, by being there.

Suddenly, something else clicked in his head, a new emotion. Happiness. He was happy. Happy holding her, admiring her, being near her. And if these “human” feelings meant that he could finally fully appreciate their coincidental existences, by the rules, the right way, then…

Maybe they weren’t so bad after all.