#the mimic and gregory

[riahlynn101]

Mimic Wednesdays #9: "Ever Again."

I don't have much to say this week, except I hope you all enjoy <33

Trigger warnings: Implied kidnapping, captivity, implied/referenced past child abuse, childhood trauma, memory loss, and whatever The Mimic and Gregory's relationship can be classified as (father-son? Brothers? One-sided-friendship? Mentor-mentee? Captor-Captee? All of the above? A risk to national security?)

See you all next week :D!!

@gregorysarmy

(Story 2 of 14) - Next week: what if Gregory was David's half-brother.

--

A sing-song voice calls out, “nighty-night!” 

Gregory dives forward, narrowly avoiding being captured. The thing - whatever it is - laughs, floating out of sight. The constant cat-and-mouse between each generator has his heart pounding. 

But he doesn’t have time for this. Both because that thing is steadily growing bolder, and because he’s leaving as soon as the main doors open. 

He breathes a sigh of relief, spotting the second-to-last generator. He flicks the switch, running away before that thing can track him down. 

One more. 

When he snatched up the security badge - just like Freddy told him - he hadn’t expected the lights to go off. The only warning he had was the sun animatronic freaking out about the lights, and then it fell over. After that, it’s a blur of running, ducking, recharging his flashlight, and hiding (when necessary, of course).

If that thing didn’t have murderous intention in its eyes everytime it swooped down to try and catch him, Gregory would have thought this is fun. He’s always been great at winning games, especially hide and seek and tag. 

This one, however, is a bit different. 

For one thing, he doesn’t remember being dive bombed from the sky. 

For another, his “playmate” doesn’t seem particularly concerned for his safety or general wellbeing. 

A fear exists inside Gregory (piled on top of the others) that maybe there isn’t a last generator, or a way out.

Maybe Freddy just told him that for comfort, like a parent telling a child they only have to get one shot when it’s actually two. 

Maybe Freddy told him that, because, in reality, nowhere in the Pizzaplex is safe. And Gregory - for all his smarts - will be stuck running around and around until either he’s caught, or the doors open.

I’m never leaving, Gregory thinks to himself, running towards the bridge connecting the two playscapes.  I’ll be stuck here forever.

He pushes those thoughts away. It feels so unlike him, and thinking like that won’t help him find the last generator any faster. 

“One more, one more, one more,” he repeats under his breath like a mantra. It shouldn’t be this hard to find a large piece of machinery in two playscapes, and perhaps it wouldn’t be, in the light. But in the dark, being chased and taunted, it’s hard to catch your breath, let alone plan ahead more than five seconds. 

He spares a glance at his Fazwatch. Freddy promised that he would be waiting outside.

Gregory hopes, more than finding the last generator, that that’s true. That he isn’t lying. 

He needs someone right now. 

Anyone.

“Naughty boy. Naughty boy.”

Anyone but that.

He backtracks, a little, shining his flashlight into corners. The last generator remains out of reach, hidden somewhere Gregory can’t find.

He steps back onto the bridge, shining his flashlight over the playscape one last time. Before Gregory can process what happened, he’s hoisted into the air, and his flashlight clatters on the floor below. 

He screams, at least he thinks he does. It’s hard to focus on anything when Satan himself is staring into your very soul. 

He’s reminded of his own morality. Blood rushes through his ears, matching the frantic rhythm of Gregory’s heart. A drop from this height would mean a broken neck, if he’s lucky. 

In a soft but still grating voice, it says, “nighty-night. Sleep. Sleep.” 

For a moment, Gregory misses the sun animatronic. But then he remembers being carried by his armpits, like a misbehaving toddler, and the feeling is gone. 

“Let me go!” Gregory yells, struggling.

Suddenly, the drop doesn’t seem that far. Surely, he’s made of tougher stuff than flesh and bone. “Freddy! Freddy! Help me!” 

The daycare doors open slowly, dramatically, like whoever’s doing it is purposely leaving Gregory on the edge of his seat. 

He knows before he sees her that it isn’t Freddy. That doesn’t stop him from calling out for help. The moon animatronic shushes him, which only fuels Gregory to scream louder. 

It remains close to the ceiling, holding Gregory in its arms. Right now, he doesn’t care. The only thing keeping him from becoming another Faz-Ent. victim is distance. 

The rabbit lady he’s been running from this entire time (Or had he been running from Vanessa? It wouldn’t surprise him if the rabbit lady and Vanessa were one and the same. It certainly doesn’t make him feel any better that he’s going to be killed by the security guard and not some rando) skips through the open door. 

She spins around, stopping a few feet below them. Even behind a mask, Gregory can feel her staring, watching with some unreadable emotion (amusement? Sadistic joy?) He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t want to know. Gregory shudders. 

Of course, because his luck has always been thin and sparse, the moon animatronic  holding onto him starts descending from way up high. 

“Nuh…no….please….” he begs. 

It wasn’t so bad being held way up high. 

Gregory will happily take all the naps in the world, as long as this thing won’t give him up to her. 

Truth be told, he has no idea why he’s so frightened of her. She hasn’t done anything to him. All Gregory knows is that his brain feels weird around her, like tv static is buzzing around in his head, filling space. 

The moon animatronic lands gracefully in front of the rabbit lady, placing Gregory on his feet. He’s shoved forward. He trips over his feet and scrapes his hands. The rabbit lady pulls him up by the arm. 

Some small part of him, the part of him that believes everything will turn out okay, believes Freddy’s going to break down the door any minute and stop this. That he’ll be saved from…

Now that he really thinks about it, Gregory has no idea what her intentions are. Though, considering she’s flouncing through a Faz-Ent location with a bunny suit on, he’s not feeling too hot about his odds in getting out alive. 

“Are you having fun yet?” She asks, almost playful. Grabbing Gregory by his wrist, she forces him to spin in circles. By the time she stops, dropping his arm, he’s beyond dizzy. 

“We need to go,” she says after a moment of watching Gregory stumble from side to side. “He’s waiting.”

“Who?” Gregory silently prays it’s Freddy, because the alternative is another freak, or worse, an employee. Unless the rabbit lady really is Vanessa, then he gets a two-for-one deal. 

“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.”

She grabs him by the arm again, locking one part of a pair of handcuffs around his wrist. The other part is locked around her wrist, tying them together. He’s dragged from the daycare, struggling and tugging on the handcuffs all the while. 

Gregory turns back once more. The moon animatronic stares at him, surprisingly impassive for having a forever smile etched into its face. 

The doors slam shut, sealing his fate. 

-x-x-x-

He fights all the way to the elevator, dragging his feet. The rabbit lady ignores his antics, pulling him along. 

As to be expected, Freddy is nowhere to be found. Either the rabbit lady did something, or…he lied about being on Gregory’s side. 

But he wouldn’t do that….right? 

“In here,” she says, guiding him into an elevator. It looks janky, hidden in the depths of the Pizzaplex, but Gregory is in no position to argue.

“Rabbit lady,” he starts, voice shaky, “am I-”

“Vanny,” she interrupts him.

“Hm?”

“My name is Vanny. Anyways, continue.”

“Sorry, Vanny. Am I going to die?”

Vanny sighs, placing a hand on his shoulder. She takes several seconds to answer him, staring up at the ceiling. Gregory takes note of the stitches between the head of the costume and the bodysuit. He counts seven before she answers him. 

“Yes…someday.”

The elevator jolts, creaking dangerously loud. Gregory almost tumbles to the ground, but Vanny holds on tight to his shirt collar.

“Stay with me,” she warns him. The humor in her voice is gone, and that, more than anything else so far, makes him feel like crying. 

This doesn’t feel like a game anymore. Not that it ever did, but if the one “playing” with him isn’t playing anymore, then does that mean the game is over. Does that mean he lost?

He’s guided down winding hallways. It smells like sewage and mildew and no amount of pinching his nose helps mask the scent. 

Vanny stops suddenly, squeezing his shoulder. “Stay here.” She unlocks the handcuff. “Don’t move.” She leaves him there, and he’s left to wonder what this was all for? All the running and hiding. Why would she go through all this trouble just to-

Her words echo through his head, “he’s waiting.”

There are a series of thuds, like textbooks being dropped on an old concrete floor. Gregory freezes, suddenly melted to the spot. His body tenses up more and more, the closer the sound gets. 

He sees its arm before the rest of it. A clawed metal hand connected to a long metal pole. It seems to keep going and going, and by the time it's fully in front of Gregory, it's towering over him. 

For a second, they both stare at each other. 

Gregory thinks of running, but one glance at its long legs makes him think twice. No way could he outrun it. He eyes the hands next, silently praying that it’ll make it quick. If he has to die tonight, he wants it to be swift and painless. 

The thing reaches for him, and he shuts his eyes. There’s no need to see what comes next. He doesn’t want to see what comes next. He’s sure whatever god or deity is up there would grant him the right to be a coward - just this once. 

He waits for the blow or to feel tearing or to never feel anything ever again, but to his shock Gregory feels the metal hand on his forehead, smoothing back his bangs. 

The thing chatters. It reminds Gregory of a bad connection between radio stations. That static sound that could almost be considered white noise. 

“Oh, my Gregory,” it says, scooping him up. Gregory falls limp, heart beating against his ribcage. He’s going to die, isn’t he? “You’re probably tired, aren’t you?”

Gregory can only stare at this massive thing with wide eyes. He swallows, trying to make himself talk, but it’s a fruitless effort.

“Cat got your tongue? Doesn’t matter. I know you are.” It walks further down the hall to a room exactly one door down. 

“Nuh…” he tries to formulate a response, but his body seems unwilling to give one. 

The room he’s brought to is only slightly better than the hallway. The smell of sewage and mildew isn’t as strong here. An unmade cot sits in the corner with a single blanket, pillow, and what looks like a stuffed bunny. 

There are papers hung on the walls. Each of them depicting something different. Most, if not all of them, star him and the thing carrying him, others include Vanny, and one or 

two have a familiar orange bear in them, though Freddy’s face has been slashed with what looks like several long knives.

The sight of his friend - even faceless - calms something in Gregory. There’s still hope. There has to be. This can’t be the end. 

The thing places him down on the cot. “You’ve been very naughty,” it says. Blurry memories that maybe, probably belong to Gregory flash in his mind’s eye. Memories of a woman with hair like his and a stern expression telling him something similar. “We are going to talk about this tomorrow, but it’s already late. And I’m just glad you’re home.”

Gregory does his very best to focus on his breathing. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out. 

That thing leans down until they’re face to face, making it harder for Gregory to remember to breathe. It feels a little like he’s suffocating, only there’s nothing and no one doing it. It’s his own doing, and yet he can’t force himself to breathe. 

Its hand sits on his chest, pushing down. All the air Gregory’s holding is expelled, relieving him of the suffocating feeling of air. 

“There,” it says, “all better. You have to keep breathing. I can’t lose you t-” It stops itself. If Gregory wasn’t absolutely terrified of its next move, then he might have ventured to ask a follow up question of his own. “Anyways, time for bed now.”

It maneuvers Gregory like he’s little more than a rag doll, and maybe he is. He certainly feels like one, being tossed around, carried, and disregarded all night. It pulls the covers up, and it almost seems like this large, monstrous thing is tucking him in. Like….like a parent….

(Then, why does he feel scared? If this thing is always like this, then why does he want to leave so bad? What happened that made him feel this way?)

It hums - perhaps one of the thousands of songs in Faz-Ent’s library - but Gregory can’t remember the exact song. A hand brushes back his bangs once more. It leans down, and Gregory’s sure this is it. But like so many times before, he’s proven wrong. 

The feeling of something cold is pressed to his forehead, before moving on to the bunny next to him. It’s only after watching that thing press its approximation of a mouth to the bunny’s “forehead” does he realize that it was kissing him. 

“There,” it says, tucking the stuffed animal in next to Gregory. “Kisses for you and kisses for Rabbit.”

Gregory turns his head, making direct eye contact with the button eyes of the rabbit. 

A hand soothes his hair down. “Rest now.” But how can he? 

“I…I can’t,” Gregory manages to stammar out. “I’m not tired.”

It laughs, and he feels something like indignation bubble up inside him, but it could have very well been childish helplessness. It didn’t matter in the end, neither’s going to help him make it out. 

“Yes, you are,” it murmurs, tracing a clawed finger over his cheeks. It pokes his nose. “You’ve been running around like a chicken with its head cut off.”

Okay, he is, but this thing doesn’t need to know that.

Gregory nods, not agreeing, but seeing no way out of this. “Fine,” he says. 

“You say that, like you have a choice in the matter.” It boops Gregory’s nose again. “Get some sleep,” it urges, no humor in its voice. “Rest. Dream of something magical.”

It’s not much in the way of a goodnight, but he imagines it’s a kinder send off than this thing usually gives. He shuts his eyes. Maybe if he waits long enough this thing will wander off, allowing him ample time to escape. Gregory can sort of remember the way back to the elevator. 

But as he lays there, tucked into a cot, next to a stuffed bunny, he quickly realizes that this thing - whatever it is - has no plans of leaving anytime soon. 

“Oh,” it says after a long moment of silence, “did you think I was going to leave you alone after the stunt you just pulled?”

Gregory sucks in a breath, eyes squeezed shut. He doesn’t want to be awake anymore. 

“I know you’re still awake, Gregory, and I want you to know that from now on, I’m never leaving your side….

ever again.”

[chloesimaginationthings]

I adore SOTM clean o vac so much,,,

[the-chaotic-anon]

SPOILERS FOR SECRET OF THE MIMIC

[scrapbabies]

NOW I'M THE REAL ONE, YOU'RE THE REFLECTION

[agileo-101]

Another FNAF SB and Poppy Playtime cross over!

[puhpandas]

i don’t think people talk about how The Mimics costume is supposed to be a Gregory disguise

(elaboration under cut)

[marsberrysoda]

Have you selected one?

I have.

[dish-soapp]

What about the daycare attendant? >:(

[postthiscat]

everyone say hi gregory and david

[shinewonder]

Can you survive a decade at freddy's?

[twilitponpon]

Happy 10th Anniversary FNaF!!! 🥳🎉💕 I can’t believe this franchise has quite literally been part of half my life, and I wouldn’t have it any other way :) You will always be an incredibly special part of who I am.

[riahlynn101]

Mimic Wednesdays #8: "Son; Brother; Uncle”

Welcome, everyone, to round two of Mimic Wednesdays. I want to upload a story related in some way to the AnotherDavid Theory every Wednesday until SOTM releases. (Which amounts to approximately 14 stories, counting this one).

Also, shoutout to ETP! I was so worried that Gregory wouldn’t come back.

Hope you all enjoy <33

And as always, thank you to @gregorysarmy for providing the world with the AnotherDavid theory!!

(Story 1 of 14)

--

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” David carries Gregory - nearly a year old now - on his hip. The baby is pretty much an exact copy of David as a child. In a way, it kind of amazes Edwin. Outside of a slight size difference (something, in David’s case, that his genes can’t take credit for. However, in Gregory’s case…) and a lack of freckles on his grandson, the resemblance is uncanny. 

Edwin disregards that thought, opening his arms.  “Yes, David,” he says, exasperated in a way that he hasn’t been since his son moved out. “I think I can handle my grandson for a few days.”

David looks uncertain, clinging to the baby. The baby, however, is more than ready. Gregory leans in, extending his arms out. It’s the exact kind of thing that David would have done as a toddler, and the thought of that makes Edwin crack a smile. 

He takes his grandson into his arms, lightly bouncing the baby. “Don’t feel bad. He probably just-” Edwin stops himself, watching as his grandson continues to hold his arms out. He follows the baby’s gaze all the way to-

Ten feet away, behind a baby gate (that it can most certainly climb over) Mimic chatters angrily. David almost looks sad, staring at his best friend (when he first arrived, he tried to free Mimic, but Edwin wasn't having it.)

There is a flight to catch, and even though Fiona hasn’t been here to scold him in years, Edwin very much remembers what it takes to be a good husband. 

Still, he feels somewhat bad keeping them apart. 

Gregory becomes more insistent, practically climbing his chest and peering over his shoulders to get a better view of Mimic. Little, chubby baby hands grasp at the air, trying to get closer. 

Oh. 

Oh, no.

With his free hand, he pinches the bridge of his nose. His son laughs. Whether at history repeating itself or Edwin’s continued suffering, he isn’t sure. Not that it matters, because either way he’s babysitting Gregory. 

“We’ll be fine.” And they would be, eventually. Sure, Edwin could feel the start of a three day headache coming on, but that’s to be expected. He kind of misses having to crack open a bottle of expired Ibuprofen to get through the day. “Now, go on. Your flight won’t wait forever.”

David passes him a bag. “Here’s his things…uh…his blanky is folded on top.” He taps his chin, thinking. “There are a few outfits in there, some baby food. We recently started him on milk. He likes to drink that before bed, naptime, and when he wakes up.” David’s wife, a woman (whom Edwin really needs to learn the name of, but the thought of asking now feels rude) with sandy brown hair and big eyes, lightly pushes her husband aside to press kisses to Gregory’s forehead and cheeks. The baby giggles, dropping his arms to give his mom his full attention. 

Gregory smiles at his mom, leaning forward, right into her touch. “I love you. Be good for your grandpa.” Pressing one last kiss to his forehead, she turns to David. “We need to go. The plane is leaving in less than an hour.”

David nods, understanding. He starts to leave, stopping short. “I almost forgot, his stuffed rabbit’s in the bottom of the bag. He refuses to go to bed without it.”

Memories of his own son struggling to sleep without his stuffed tiger come flooding back. Edwin smiles, struggling to maintain his hold on Gregory who has gone back to reaching out for Mimic. “Got it.”

David stands there for a moment, not moving. His eyes move between Edwin and his son, considering. He recognizes that look instantly. It's the same look he had when David started school, and they had to part for the first time in his son’s life. 

But David isn’t him. He’s better. He has a support system, and Edwin refuses to allow his son to squander it. “Chin up,” he says. “Gregory’s in good hands.”

“Right, right. Sorry, I’m just….”

“Worried?”

“Yeah, this is the first time we’re leaving him.” David strokes the back of his son’s head. “I know you’ve been through this before, but it doesn’t make it easier.”

Edwin grabs David’s hand, holding it. “I won’t let anything happen to my grandson.”

David stares at him in the same starry-eyed way he used to. Like Edwin is all-powerful and all-knowing, like only he can slay the monsters that lurk in the dark or underneath the bed.   

“We’ll be fine, but if you really want to stay…”

David coughs, shaking his head. “No, we already spent the money, and I want to go. It just feels weird being away from Gregory for longer than an hour.”

“I know the feeling.”

His son looks at him, worry finally showing on his face. “If you can call me once a day. Just to update us on how Gregory’s doing.”

“Of course I can, though I’m sure the baby will be just fine.” Over his shoulder he eyes Mimic who has started holding its arms out for Gregory too. “I love you, son.” David leans down to hug him. 

Gregory turns back to try and hug his dad, giggling all the while. 

“Love you too, dad.” He kisses the baby’s head. “And I love you, my little mischief maker.” 

What does that mean? 

He looks at David who shoots him a downright-evil smile. “Goodluck!” He shouts, following after his wife. 

Edwin shuts the door. Whatever his son meant by that couldn’t be any worse than David at four and five. His son had been smart and curious, which didn’t make for the safest combination at times. 

“I’m sorry,” he addresses Mimic. “You can see David when he gets back.”

But Mimic has stopped its angry chattering, focusing on the squirming baby in his arms. Gregory coos, pointing a pudgy finger at the giant robot. “Mimi!” 

Edwin is taken back. He didn’t know that his grandson had already said his first word. Which feels like something his son should have mentioned beforehand. 

“Mimi!” Gregory calls again, more insistent. 

Mimic reaches a clawed hand out. “Gregory,” it calls in response, using a voice that is neither Edwin’s or David’s. He tries to recall who it came from, but he can’t. “Baby! Gregory! Give me the baby!” It demands. 

“No,” Edwin reprimands. “Is that how you ask?” Truth be told, he really doesn’t want to hand his grandson over. While Mimic has proven to be trustworthy with David and under supervision, he’s no stranger to robots acting up. All it takes is one accident. 

“Please, may I hold the baby?” It asks, and Edwin is nothing if not a man of his word. He lowers the baby gate, and hands Gregory over. 

The baby snuggles close to Mimic, tiny arms trying to wrap all the way around its neck (a futile endeavor, but that doesn’t stop Gregory from trying), meanwhile, the robot’s long arms seem to almost engulf the baby’s body. 

Edwin worries that it might suffocate his grandson, but before he can move, the hug is over. 

It holds Gregory on its side, supporting him with its arm. “Baby,” Mimic says, something like fondness in its voice.

“Baby,” Edwin repeats. “Very fragile. Be very, very gentle.”

“Okay!” Mimic says, turning away. It carries the baby further into the factory, humming something under its breath. Edwin thinks about following it, but decides to return to work. 

His grandson likely needs to burn out all his energy before naptime anyway. 

-x-x-x-

“Mimi!” Gregory calls out, clapping his hands. 

Mimic isn’t sure what to make of his brother’s son. The tiny human looks so much like David. All big brown eyes and smiles and giggles and reaching hands and warm hugs. Like sunshine personified. 

Gregory is his brother’s son, so he supposes that makes him his uncle. 

He kind of likes that, being an uncle. It feels like the natural progression of things. 

First, he was a brother (and he still is, though David doesn’t come around as much). Now, he’s an uncle. 

He covers his eyes with his hands. Through the cracks in between his fingers, he sees the baby staring up at him with wonder. “Peek-a-boo!” He shouts, causing Gregory to break into giggles yet again. 

He scoops the baby up, unable to bear the cuteness. Carefully, gently (just as he’d been advised to), Mimic nuzzles the baby, chattering happily. 

“Mimi! Luh!” 

His smile grows - if that’s even possible - and he feels complete. Like the missing piece between being a brother and son was waiting for his nephew to be born. 

“I love you too, Gregory,” he murmurs, cooing when his nephew tries to hug him again. 

-x-x-x-

Naptime is quite the event. 

“No, Mimic, you can’t sleep in the same bed as the baby.”

Sometimes Edwin forgets he didn’t build Mimic with lips, especially at times like now when the robot starts “pouting.” It sulks, the baby still nestled in its arms. 

“Mimic,” he chides.

The robot couldn’t look more guilty if it tried. 

“Don’t do it,” Edwin warns, already sensing an oncoming headache (he’d have to pop open that bottle of painkillers sooner than he originally thought). One that probably won’t go away until David comes back. “....Mimic.”

As if provoked into action by the use of its name, Mimic turns tail and runs from the room (baby still in arm).

Edwin sighs, loudly, wondering what he did to deserve this. Of course, it might be easier to point out what he didn’t do.

Joints creaking, he chases after Mimic. 

-x-x-x-

There are so many places to hide in the factory. In vents, behind machines, inside machines, inside costumes, and his favorite, inside the massive wardrobe in a side room. Once, decades ago now, Mimic remembers playing in here with David. They used to try on costumes all the time, one right after the other. 

Gregory makes a noise in his sleep. 

“Shhh…” Mimic soothes, rocking him side to side. The baby relaxes in his hold. He smiles, something like warmth in his chest. It’s been a long, long time since he’s felt this way. “There. Safe and sound.”

He doesn’t understand why his creator has to be like that. Did he think that Mimic would crush the baby? He wouldn’t. Had his creator forgotten all of Mimic’s capabilities? Because it sure seems like it. 

Maybe it’s for the best. This is a much better place to sleep - in his (very right, very correct) opinion - than the bedroom. 

From his place crouched against the far back wall of the large wardrobe, Mimic can hear his creator shouting for him to come out. He gives it an hour before his creator gives up and goes back to work. 

One would think to look in all the places David liked to play in, but his creator has always been a little slow on the uptake. 

One might also worry a little more about their grandson’s safety (and no, yelling doesn’t count, nor does quickly peeking in rooms).

But he knows it’s because Edwin, whether he realizes it or not, trusts him. He trusted him with David, and he trusts him with Gregory now. And despite his robotic nature, Mimic understands how fragile that trust can be, which is why he’ll spend the rest of naptime (however long that might be) here, holding his sleeping nephew. 

“Sweet dreams, little one,” Mimic murmurs. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

-x-x-x-

Gregory wakes a few hours later. Tiny hands reach up, stretching. His button nose wrinkles as he blinks away the sleep from his eyes. 

Mimic stares at the baby, transfixed by the little twitches of Gregory’s face and the noises he makes. It’s endearing in all the best ways. His little nephew smiles, reaching a hand up to pat Mimic’s face. 

“Mimi,” Gregory says, still half-asleep. 

Before he can answer, the doors to the wardrobe are yanked open. “Hah!” His creator shouts, startling the baby. “Found you!” 

Gregory’s eyes widen, frightened by the sudden loud noise. He sniffles. Mimic rocks him, doing his best to calm the baby. 

Edwin must realize his mistake, because he shushes the baby. As if that’s going to calm anyone down. Mimic knows it’s not his place to judge his creator, but, boy, sometimes is it hard. Impossible even. 

Still, fair is fair, and he lost. So, Mimic hands the baby over. Edwin mutters a thank you under his breath, bouncing the baby in an effort to calm Gregory down. 

Mimic watches him leave, wishing he didn’t have to play fair.

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Escape the Pizzaplex good ending,,

[m1n4h]

It's the wizard and his favourite apprentice

[jovuuu]

This song is so good😭

[dork-a-doodle]

(Not pictured: the dozens of ghosts also present)