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blametheeditor · 3 years

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David’s New Pet

Warnings: David being a grade-A douche bag. Mentions of people being treated as pets or pests. Cursing. Mistreatment of others. Mentions of death. Mentions of murder. Mentions of someone being an orphan. Mentions of someone not wanting to adopt someone. Someone having the lack of sympathy or apathy. Someone being extremely insensitive.

I have no intentions of making the situation something to not take seriously. I mean no harm with how I’ve written it. Just be warned it has trigger warnings.

Run Down: Will admit, this is fairly old writing, but I wanted to throw it, so have and angsty (though only semi-angsty???) David getting a new pet!

I absolutely refuse to write the entire stories that come after this.

____________________

“Why are you always trying to get stepped on?”

David glares down at the human standing before him.

“Definitely not helping with the fact I think your species can’t even think past what animals do.”

He can’t see the minuscule expression, the form not even three inches tall, but frankly he couldn’t care less.

“And I will never understand why you think you deserve to even stand in my office. I’ll just be spraying pesticides to finally get rid of you pests.”

The business man raises an eyebrow when Fritz doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even move. Asshole, thinking he can get away with something like this and not pay the consequences. Of course the redhead is valuable, an exceptional coder who completes every task no matter what time restraint the giant gives.

The only real problem is the brilliant worker William Afton had on hand to be transferred between the restaurants of Freddy Fazbear’s is human. A lowly creature who doesn’t contribute anything but taking up vital parts of this world. Gives nothing to society, annoying beyond belief as he’s forced to watch his steps when walking around his own office of a business he owns.

“Are you even listening?” David demands, growling down at the unmoving teenager. Which, by the way, isn’t even in uniform.

Idiotic waste of his time. “As long as you’re here, I might as well have you do the one thing you’re not completely useless for.”

Again there’s no response as the giant carelessly walks ‘around’ the human and calls for Lefty. With that he ignores everything, phone out to text people who should actually exist in this fucked beyond repair world, leaning against his desk and ordering flyers and party supplies.

Finally the black bear appears in the office doorway. “Mr. Harrison, why is Mr. Smith crying?”

David hesitates, glancing up from his screen. “I don’t give a shit, frankly. I need him to update your coding on a new song, however, and him wanting to sob for no goddamn reason isn’t my problem.”

“And why is Mr. Smith here when he isn’t scheduled for today?”

...because he is?

“Fritz,” the business man snaps, growing exceptionally pissed off when he realized the human was apparently in his office just because. “Explain.”

“...my mum, my mum is dead.”

One less pest in this world, now that is good news.

“Condolences,” is said with an eye roll. And just why the hell does this have him receiving an unnecessary and unwanted visit?

“And I, I don’t have anyone that’s family here, here in the United States. So, so I’m getting put in the...the foster system.”

David grows still at that, listening to the strained voice making sure the sobs don’t escape even with the obvious pain.

“It’s been, really has been, been such a pleasure working for you, Mr. Harrison. But, but where I’m going, I’ll be...I’ll be unable to work for you any longer.”

The redhead slumps in despair at that, as if preparing to be stepped on, kicked or flicked across the room. Treated like the pest the giant before him has always claimed he is. Now that he’s useless, he’s bothering a successful man just because.

No shadow descends upon him, however.

...well, uh.

David glances back down at who’s about to be his former employee.

This is good. Great. He’s getting rid of a little pest he technically had been forced into hiring, having wanted to switch a pathetic human even if the giant coder wasn’t even 1% as good as Fritz. No more watching his step, making the world right again.

“When?”

He pretends not to notice the choked sob from the question. “They, they said if you need, need the standard two weeks to, to get another person to...to take my position-”

“You’re easily replaceable, human.”

David is only given a nod.

“Yes, Mr. Harrison.”

“You may go.”

Fritz sprints as fast as possible out of the business man’s office, wiping tears away as he runs, exiting into the hallway and continuing, needing to get out of the restaurant.

...he’s leaving.

The giant waves away the animatronic that’s now useless to him at the moment to follow after the little insect like a goddamn puppy. Never will he understand why such a thing would occur, a giant bear who frankly looks like he’s happily murdered a few children interested in such a lowly being, but he can’t think about that.

Much more important things to do.

...leaving.

“Fritz!”

David growls when the human doesn’t appear.

“Fritz!”

Now he’s getting piss.

“FRITZ!”

“Mr. Harrison!”

...why the fuck does his coder sound like Happy?

That’s because the frog animatronic is the one speaking. Her purple eyes hold an emotion the business man doesn’t want to even comprehend. Doesn’t want to attempt to register that even ‘sentient’ like all the other dumbasses of so called ‘night guards’ claim shouldn’t be able to show any kind of emotions. Not when their mouths aren’t able to form anything outside of a permanent smile. Bitch face in Lefty’s case.

David waves a hand, clearly not in the mood. “Out. I called for-”

“Mr. Smith, I know.” Shit did the expression get stronger? “He’s gone, Mr. Harrison. Remember?”

...oh.

“The little pest should be here. Didn’t give me two goddamn weeks.”

“He offered two weeks, Mr. Harrison. You didn’t take it.”

“He’s an absolute asshole allowing his mother to-”

David stiffens when the frog was no longer listening, not even in his office doorway anymore. Fine, go cry to Orville and tell the bastard he’s ‘being insensitive’. He doesn’t care. More free-time for him.

...fuck.

“This is Scott Cawthon.”

“You’re a father, right?”

The giant stares into space before slowly, carefully pulling his phone in front of him, staring at the fact that the human. Hung. Up.

On him.

“Scott! You LITTLE-!”

“David, shut up before I send Vincent to kick your ass.” The eldest guard waits until the sound of a mouth opening is heard. “Don’t make me hang up again.”

“Adopt Fritz.”

“...yOU-!”

The business man holds his phone away from his face as it becomes clear the innocent human has been talking to Mike too much. Being the less superior race is one thing, but getting tainted by the Fucked Up Night Guard is an entirely new low.

“Are you done?”

Scott nearly screams again before forcing himself to stop. “You adopt Fritz.”

“YOU MOTHER-! WAIT DON’T YOU PULL THAT FUCKING PHONE AWAY OR I WILL SQUASH YOU LIKE THE BUG YOU ARE!”

“David, you will either adopt the kid, or hope he’ll forgive you for everything you’ve done to him-”

“Done for him.”

“-done to him and be willing to work for you after he turns eighteen in two years and therefore able to live alone and not have a guardianship. I adore him, I really do, but I have my own children.

“And never would I force him to live with me when he’s clearly attached to you.”

“Well then I hope you’re goddamn happy, Scott, because-” David freezes, slowly feeling his shoulders slump if only a millimeter. “What did you say?”

The human hangs up yet again. He’s not immediately greeted by the angry sound of a phone ringing, however.

Attached to him. One, Scott screwed himself by making it sound like Fritz is a pet. Two...

“Greg, you’re in charge.”

“Fritz Smith?”

Said teenager flashes a bright smile even as tears threaten to appear, thanking the woman.

Bye Mike. Bye Jeremy. Bye Caleb.

The tears start forming around his eyes, unable to stop them as he continues walking toward the room’s door and exit into the courthouse.

Bye Scott. Bye James. Bye Eggs.

The first time he walked out of the room a man, woman, and little girl had greeted him, his temporary foster family making sure he had food, a place to sleep, supervision.

Bye Vincent. Bye Mr. Afton.

Now he’s going to be adopted, taken far away, or with parents who don’t want him working.

Bye-

“Mr. Harrison!”

Fritz’s wide smile stays in place even with the giant clearly annoyed by his enthusiasm, those hazel eyes as big as his head narrowed into a glare.

“You’re not supposed to be happy to see me h-”

Mike doesn’t acknowledge the murderous look aimed toward him from elbowing the business man. Not with his answer to the dumbass being “Douche Bag, you’re about to adopt the little fucker. And these bastards won’t hand his ass over if you threaten him.”

I hate humans.

But fine! He’ll behave. Especially when Fritz is looking almost horrified instead of overjoyed. Technically only David’s allowed to be disgusted with people and insects.

“Adopting?” the teenager questions. “You’re adopting me?”

“As a guardian,” the business man states, allowing it to almost sound like a threat.

“Why the hell did you think I came here?”

“I thought, you wanted to see me off.”

An eyebrow raises. “Well by all means, if you’d like some other-”

“NO!”

Scott smirks as the human actually manages to shut the egotistical giant up, shock coating the man’s face at the panic of going with someone else. That’s when David screws himself over. “Even if it was Scott?”

The business man growls when someone who should be fearing him stepping on them says he wants to be with the superior being. Not that he can blame Fritz, clearly he’s the greatest person alive. But pests should fear him, not think he’ll be a wonderful little guardian.

Fuck this I should just leave.

“Fritz.”

David watches over crossed arms as a human behind the counter summons his apparent new charge. About to become charge. Live in his house, eat his food, fuck it up. Can’t forget that wonderful part.

But, his head nods when...green eyes? He doesn’t care, when Fritz looks up before signing to state he’s in agreement living with someone a hundred times his size. And after Scott and Mike sign, vowing the man is responsible enough to not crush the teenager, they’re waved goodbye.

…huh. So, Fritz is his now.

Gross.

“Come on. I’m not going to make sure you keep up so run or get left behind.”

“Yes, Mr. Harrison!”

#g/t #FNAF Bois #giant #tiny #trigger warning #tw foster care #tw death mention #tw #you know #I don’t think I ever posted this particular story anywhere #it was mostly a slightly angsty rant #but I hope it’s liked!#look I promise the David gets softer #after much angst….#you have NO idea how many random and angsty stories I’ve writen with these two #MAYbe I’ll post ‘em one day #David’s New Pet #writing #BTE writing

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gxtrbazxt · 2 years

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It’s been a long time since Montgomery joined as the bassist, it’s been mostly the best decision an alligator like himself has ever made. A long day of shows and singing and playing, there’s still eight hours until the pizza-plex closes, and Montgomery is feeling a bit tired, making sure everyone’s all fine and dandy before going into his room, his body feels sore. But it’s worth it, its all very worth it. It’s enough to warrant a nap, hell, he just goes and lays against the wall on the floor and dozes off--

Three hours pass, and they awake to a knock at his door. They wait for a moment, as he turned to realize his curtain’s been open the entire time, his fans watched him idly rest, his chest heave up and down in a soft, calming motion for hours. He looks at them through the window with a tired, teary-eyed smile, giving them a thumbs up. Overwhelmed by happiness, they blink, allowing the tears to drip from his eyes. Thirteen years he’s been on the team with Freddy and the others and it’s the happiest he’s ever been.

One of them mouths that Freddy is at the door, waiting for Montgomery to open it for them. He presses a button on the other side of the wall, allowing Freddy in, as all the other fans are stuck there, waiting and looking at what’s going to happen. The bear gets onto his knees and embraces his dear friend. Monty lets out a shaky sigh, it’s the first time he’s allowed anyone, let alone his fans see him cry, for any reason at all. But these are cries of happiness, of joy--of thanks.

[ “ // Thank you--for letting me be your friend, your band-mate, family, Freddy. // “ ]

Monty chokes out, pushing his head into Freddy’s chest, tears staining it, a soft, darker hue engulfs some spots on the Bear’s chest-fur, and outside of soft sobs, and hiccups in his breathing patterns, the two of them are pretty much silent. His body trembles in the midst of their hug, and Freddy is simply rubbing his friend’s back as they cry onto them. Not even he’s seen the alligator cry, but they’ll be there for him nonetheless. It’s almost been fifteen years since they recruited Montgomery as their bassist. Quite frankly? It’s the best decision the three of them ever agreed upon.

“Hey--Monty. Thanks for allowing me to see you like this. It shows you trust me--us. Whenever you need a shoulder to lay on, or a hug--like we are now? Don’t be afraid to come to us.”

Monty looks up and smiles, big and great, dorky, even, his tears are like a waterfall, eternally flowing, but--it shows he’s happy as can ever be, even if his breathing is shaky, and even if there’s now soft sobs emitting from their throat. It’s..nice to see a much softer side of the Alligator. This isn’t weakness. This isn’t a bad thing, it’s never been a bad thing. It’s just...natural. Maybe it’s for the best he lets all this out here and now. Monty sighs and gives Freddy a weak chuckle. It’s evident he’s exhausted, and crying with such ferocity of emotions, it isn’t exactly helping his case.

[ “ // I’m...thankful that I see you lot as family. Thank you, again, for.. being here. It’s nice, having family again. // “ ]

Montgomery felt so..lost in his life for the longest time. He learned absolutely everything he possibly could from his father, so when they had unexpectedly passed years back? Montgomery well, he was alone, entirely alone. Friends, old-bandmates, but--he finally felt like he had a family in Freddy’s band. And even if he’s still not fully done mourning? It helps to know he has others by his side, a new family, strong in bonds and tight in trust. The alligator shakily sighs, Freddy stands up, his fazwatch beeping over a game of Fazer Blast he gets to play with his subset of fans.

[ “ // I won’t keep you any longer, bud. Go have your fun. I’ll be alright. // “ ]

Freddy looks away for a moment, and then back to Montgomery, giving them a welcoming smile, if they want to join him later on, they’re completely welcome to do so. Monty waves the bear goodbye as the door closes behind them. Laying his head back against the wall, he yawns, wiping the tears from his eyes. A few more hours of a nap won’t hurt, right? Plus he’ll probably feel so much better after he finishes napping. Still, though.. It was refreshing to finally purge oneself of emotions, the good ol’ fashioned healthy way for once. He stares at his hands, with a soft smile, saying one last thing before he dozes back off into deep sleep.

[ “ // I’ll keep on impressing you, father. Even while you’re up there, and I’m down here, you got it? // “ ]

#Aqua writing soft emotional stuff? Yeah. Yeah i am #[Glamrock Star;; Monty IC]#[Following Terran's Footsteps;; Main Verse (Anthro)]#mun doesn't draw so he'll just.. write his thoughts up instead--#also aqua making himself cry for the 3rd time today--#I've seen so much freddy that I hope I picked up on his mannerisms well for this drabble--#drabble #personals don't reblog #family death tw

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lunaverseimagine · 4 years

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Worth Dying For

Request: Can someone PLEASE make a Fred Weasley imagine where he died defending you at the last battle because he was the only one that knew you were pregnant with George’s baby? @writerinnight

Pairing: George x Reader, platonic!Fred x Reader

Warnings: Major character death, angst, I’ve never written angst like this before and I apologise in advance for any pain caused 👀

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: @flyingserpxnt @pcseidcnsvoid @cherrycolakxsses @justanotherblondeday @schlongbottom @wand3ringr0s3 @hemmoporro Join a taglist through the link in my bio <3

Fic:

You had so many mixed emotions when you looked at the test. Your hand flew to your mouth and tears filled your eyes. Butterflies went crazy in your stomach. You were going to bring a baby into the world. But not the sort of world you’d pictured when you imagined this moment. You allowed yourself a couple of minutes to absorb the information before taking some deep breaths and wiping the tears from your eyes. As you opened the bathroom door you collided with a firm chest.

“Blimey y/n/n, sorry, I-“ but Fred fell silent as his gaze drifted to the stick in your hand. Your eyes widened and you hid it behind your back, but it was too late. “Y/n... is that what I think it is?”

You debated lying, but there was no point, you wouldn’t be able to hide the truth from him now. Checking the hallway to make sure you were alone, you forced yourself to say the words.

“I’m pregnant.” You looked down at the floor, digging your toes into the carpet, anxiously awaiting his response. Surely Fred would be disappointed that you were pregnant now, that you were bringing a baby into this. But Fred’s arms wrapped around you and he lifted you off the ground.

“Merlin’s beard y/n/n, that’s brilliant! Georgie’s gonna be so happy-“

“I’m not telling George.” Fred put you down and looked at you with furrowed brows, hands still holding onto your arms as though he didn’t want to let go completely. “Not yet. Tomorrow is just so... huge. I don’t want him distracted or… or worrying about me.”

Seeing the resolve in your eyes, Fred knew there was no changing your mind, so he enveloped you in another hug and mumbled in your ear, “I’ll look out for you, you have my word. But If it’s going to be a secret you might want to stop waving that stick around.” You slapped him lightly, but hid the test in your pocket nonetheless.

You and George stood side by side, the rest of your families not far away, a united team. It was the calm before the storm, and the castle was completely silent. You couldn’t believe that this used to be your school, your home. Soon to be a battleground, inevitably covered in bloodshed. A shiver ran down your spine before you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. Now, more than ever before in your life, you needed to focus. You observed the grey skies, the cold bite to the air, as you listened, waiting for any sign of movement.

Something brushed against your fingers and you jumped, your hold on your wand tightening, before realising it was George. “Sorry love.” he whispered as he clasped your hand in his own and squeezed it reassuringly. You squeezed back, leaning in to him so that the side of your body was flush with his. George, your George, your boyfriend of 6 years and the soon-to-be father of your baby. You sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening, asking that you, George, and bump would survive.

“I love you Georgie.” Your voice was barely a whisper, but in the silence he heard you perfectly.

“I love you too y/n.” You could see the fear in his eyes, watched as he bounced his leg and looked nervously around. You pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek, lips lingering on the stubbly skin.

Suddenly the shields surrounding the castle began to break, and the scene turned to utter chaos. You and George stood back to back, casting spells at death eaters, constantly scanning your surroundings in case anyone needed backup. Fred had joined you so you were now standing in a triangle, fighting enemies on all sides.

The battle was a blur, flashes of red and green all around, shouts and screams filling your ears. Pushing down thoughts of the baby, thoughts of George, and of everyone else you wanted to protect, you focused instead on what you could see, on what you could do. That is, until the moment time seemed to slow down. The moment when three death eaters apparated in front of you. You knew there was no way you’d win against all of them, but dammit you would not go down without a fight. As you lifted your wand to disarm the death eater closest to you, all three of them raised their wands, pointing them directly at you. You heard the words forming on their lips, seeming to take an eternity, words that haunted your worst nightmare. Words you had hoped never to hear in your lifetime.

“Avada-”

You watched a mess of ginger hair in front of you.

“NO!” Your mouth formed the word, feeling disconnected from the rest of you.

You watched his arms spread wide to shield you

“Expelliarmus!” You cast, disarming one of the three evil people threatening the life of those you held dearest.

You watched as he disarmed another one, doing his best to protect you just like he promised.

“Kedavra.”

You watched as he crumpled to the floor in front of you, revealing the last death eater stood before him, the one responsible for taking his life.

You cast the curse back at him, not that you needed to because your scream had attracted attention, and curses were firing at him from all sides.

You fell to your knees next to Fred, letting out a scream that came from the depths of your lungs, your soul. You felt George beside you, turning to see him stare blankly at the lifeless face of his twin, of his other half. George was looking but not seeing, not registering, until suddenly he did, and he grabbed Fred’s hand.

“No no no no, Freddie, wake up, wake up, it’s me, it’s George.” His voice was breaking, and you cradled his head, brought it to rest in your chest as you held him, tears streaming down your face. “It’s George, you know, like Forge? Gred? I can’t be Forge or Gred on my own, I can’t do it, you have to wake up, you have to.” You clutched George tightly but his hands still held Fred’s cold one, refusing to let it go, refusing to believe that he could be gone. “You have to. You have to.”

The battle raged on around you but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, George had to know. He had to know why this happened.

“I-” the words caught in your throat, it was so painful, your heart was aching, but George needed to know. “I know why he did it.” George lifted his head, glazed, bloodshot eyes meeting yours.

“What?”

“He- he jumped in front of me because otherwise- otherwise it would’ve been me-” at this thought your chest constricted and you had to fight to breathe, “and he didn’t want that because I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant Georgie, and he knew.” The last bit came out as a mere whisper, but George was hanging on to every word, trying to make sense of it all.

“You’re- you’re pregnant?” You merely nodded. George finally found the courage to let go of his twin’s hand, holding on to you for support because there was no way he could do this on his own, he needed you, his lifeline. He buried his face in your chest in an attempt to ground himself, and you clutched onto him, not daring to let go. The two of you rocked back and forth, unable to process the severity of the situation.

His family, his parents started to realise what had happened and were coming towards you, but you couldn’t bear to see the looks on their faces, so you pressed your face on top of George’s head, kissing him because he’s still alive and Fred isn’t and it’s not fair and your baby’s dad is alive and his uncle isn’t.

You stayed there for hours, long after the battle ended. You’d won, but at what cost? You didn’t know if you’d ever be able to breathe without feeling the pain in your chest, the weight filling you, reminding you of what Fred had done. What he’d done for you. You couldn’t even imagine the pain George was in, losing half of himself. You didn’t know what the future would look like or how things could ever be ok again. So you did what you could. You held on to George.

End

Edit: There is now a part 2 and I promise it’s happier than this 👀

So... sorry 🥺 If you did enjoy this (or if your heart was broken) please let me know - reblogs and comments do a lot to motivate my writing, and my posts aren’t showing up in tags atm so reblogs are the only way to spread them 💖💖

Also feel free to check out my other stuff (mostly fluff I promise) and my writing challenge. Thank you for reading 💕

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deanmarvolowinchester · 3 years

Text

Coming out.

(Dean decides to come out to Sam about his secret relationship with Cas.)

Dean sat shaking on the full size bed in the shabby motel that he and Sam had been staying at for the last three nights. Dean bobbed one of his bow-legs up and down out of nerves. He had already meticulously cleaned himself, scrubbing every inch and even scraping the dirt from under his fingernails that he can never manage to keep clean given the many graves he has to dig on a monthly basis. He had already tidied the cluttered room and paced so much he thought surely he’d ware through the old shag carpet. These were all things Dean would do when he felt anxious and out of control. Dean very much enjoyed the feeling of being in control. He liked the reliability and stability he was able to wield when being in control of a situation, or the very least in control of his emotions. It is not as if he hadn’t felt out control and anxious before, he was a hunter after all. It is not as if he had never run in to sticky situations on a hunt, and there was certainly no controlling Sam when he set his mind on something. Still, this anxiety was different. Dean took a deep breath as he mulled over in his head what he had been planning for weeks. Cas had begged to be there at his side when he finally told Sam, but Dean would have none of it. He wished for this moment of complete vulnerability to be shared only between him and Sam. “Sam...” Dean thought and began to absently chew on his already too short fingernails. “What the hell is Sam gonna say? Is he gonna be shocked? Angry? Or worse... disappointed?” The thought was too much for him. Dean arose and walked over to the mini bar. He opened the fridge and cracked open a small bottle of whiskey, pouring the contents into a flimsy plastic cup. He sipped on it and tried to focus on the burn in his throat as it creeped lower into his gut. Moments later the alcohol began to take effect and his muscle, which had been extremely tense up until that point began to relax. He took another deep breath. “But on the other hand... what if Sam’s okay with it? What if he’s... happy? Maybe even proud?” A small smile spread across Dean’s face. He pictured what his life would be like if the brother whom he has devoted so much of his life to love and protect could truly love him back when he reveals to him his true authentic self. He pictured late nights out at bars, Sam and Cas laughing together at a joke he just made. He pictured road trips in the Impala and hunts; holidays and birthdays and movies late at night. He, sitting on the couch which Cas leaning against his chest. Arms and legs intertwined in a lose but affectionate embrace. He imagined kissing the top of Cas’s head, and Cas looking up to return the gesture with a light brush of his lips against Dean’s. All while Sam seeing but not reacting, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. And of course it was normal. Dean loved Cas and had for years. They had stolen kisses and nights together every so often, but they had never been able to be together in public. Dean wasn’t ready to come out to Sam, and Cas being ever patient had graciously waited. It wasn’t that Dean was ashamed or embarrassed; he knew lots of people in the lgbtq community and loved every one of them. It was that he was scared. Fear that had yet to be resolved since the death of his father. He knew deep down that John would never approve of his bisexuality, and although Sam was different, Dean couldn’t help but see hints of his father’s face in Sam’s when he was displeased. Even though Sam was nothing like their old man, Dean couldn’t bear to see John’s eyes in Sam’s if Sam took the news poorly.

It was then that the handle of the door began to jiggle, jolting Dean out of his thoughts. Sam was back and unlocking the door. The door swung open and Sam carried in what appeared to be bags from the fast food joint down the road. Sam kicked the door shut and threw the keys to Dean’s baby on the table. “I got us something to eat.” Sam said. “Oh... ahh awesome.” Dean responded, trying to shake off the nerves and look as normal as possible. Sam set down the food, pushed back the hair that had fallen into his face, and looked at Dean. “You okay?” Sam asked with confusion and a note of concern in his voice. “Who me? Yeah! Corse! Why?” Dean hastily replied. “I don’t know... you looked worried I guess.” “Oh well we’re hunters Sam... when are we ever not worried?” Sam shrugged and turned to collect his food from the bag. While he fiddled with his wrapper he suggested to Dean that they watch The Loan Ranger. He had seen in a t.v. guide that it was going to be on that night, and was excited to tell Dean given that Dean had a deep appreciation for westerns.

The brothers watched in silence as they ate their dinners. Sam was seemingly as engaged in the story as ever, meanwhile Dean was a wreck. He tried to slow his heart rate with calming breaths and another bottle from the mini bar, but his stomach was still in knots. The movie ended and as the credits rolled, Sam shut off the television and spun to meet Dean’s nervous gaze. “Alright. Spill.” “What?” Dean asked. “C’mon man. You’ve had two drinks and you’re still jittery. What’s up?” “Sam I... I don’t...” Dean trailed off. “Dean, you can tell me anything. I’ve seen it all.” “Well, Sammy, this is different...” “Different than Lucifer and hell?” “Well, yeah.” Sam took an exasperated breath. “Dean...” Sam looked at his brother. Typically Dean’s expression was stern, solid as a rock. Dean was always the brave one, always the confident one. That’s what made him Sam’s hero, but now all he saw in his brother was childlike fear. Sam softened. It was clear that whatever Dean had to say didn’t have anything to do with demons or monsters, it had to do with something Dean found far more terrifying... feelings. “Dean...” Sam said again, but this time softly. He met Dean’s eyes and gave him the same reassuring look that he usually reserves for the grieving family members of the victims who’s murders he’s so skilled at solving. There was a long pause as Dean gathered his thoughts. “Sammy... I... I don’t know where to begin. I... ummm... Ya see... I’m sort of in love...” another long pause. Sam stayed quiet giving Dean the space to speak his truth. “I... ummm... well for a long time now I’ve known, but never told anyone.” Dean pauses again. “I was so afraid of Dad. He had such strong opinions about what a man should be like and... and I never thought that I could express, or that I could even have... Sam... I’m... I’m bisexual.” The last word hung in the air. You could have heard a pin drop. Dean couldn’t breath. Terror spread across his body. He was out; his secret a secret no longer. He analyzed Sam’s face, searching for clues as to what he might be thinking. The worst possible thoughts swirling in his head. But instead of being met with judgement and rigidity, a warm and inviting smile spread across Sam’s face. “Dean...” Sam said with audible happiness in his voice “I’m so glad you told me. I’ve had my suspicions for some time. Dean, I’m so proud of you, and I know you’re not into the touchy feely crap, but you’re always gonna be my brother, and I’m always gonna love ya.” Sam chuckled “Who’s the lucky guy?” Dean blinked. He was preparing for the worst and was shocked to see that it was the best. “You mean it? You’re still okay with me?” Sam scoffed “Of corse! What? We’re you expecting me to get mad and throw something at you? Ya know just ‘cause I look a little like dad doesn’t mean I’m him, man. No. I think it’s great. Now I don’t have to see you strike out with every hot waitress we come across.” “Hey I pick up more girls than you, and I said I’m bi! Dude, I still like chicks, I just also like dicks. Like Freddie Mercury, Man, I swing both ways, which means there’s twice as much ass I can get, while you’re options are limited.” “Whatever. Just tell me who your boyfriend is. I think I should meet this man who’s got my brother all twitterpated.” Sam mocked. “Well... ahhh... you already know him actually. It’s Cas.” “Cas?” “Yeah. Why?” Dean said defensively. “Nothing. I just thought Cas would have better taste.” “Oh ha ha. You’re one to talk. You literally fucked a demon.” “And evidently you’re fucking an angel. Now one of us needs to bang a Leviathan and we’d have a biblical bingo.”

At that moment Cas appeared. “Dean?” Cas asked. It was obvious that Cas was asking if Dean had informed Sam of their relationship. “Yes. It went better than I could have imagined.” Cas beamed and strode across the room to embrace Dean. His hand slipped down Dean’s arm and his hand landed in the warm grasp of Dean’s. “Now Cas...” Sam said in a overly dramatic serious voice. “... if you break my brother’s heart, I’m gonna have to break your face.” Cas sighed as he traced the faint scar on Dean’s collarbone. “I don’t intend on breaking anything of Dean’s.” Dean blushed scarlet at that comment. Cas moved his fingers to Dean’s cheeks which were hot with blood flow. “Did I embarrass you?” Cas said in an apologetic voice. Dean looked down in shame. He wasn’t meaning to upset Cas. “No no!” Dean said quickly. “I’m just not used to... ummm being affectionate with anyone in front of Sam.” “Oh.” Cas replied. “Well don’t stop being blissfully happy on my account. Lord knows Dean’s happiness is always pretty fleeting.” Sam said with enthusiasm. “Yes. Well I’ll see to extending those periods of happiness as best I can.” Cas replied to Sam. And at that, Cas grabbed Dean’s chin and pushed it close to his. He leaned in, and slowly planted an affectionate but appropriate kiss on Dean’s soft lips. There will be more opportunities for inappropriate kisses later, but for now, Sam was watching and Cas didn’t want to make either of his favorite humans too uncomfortable. The two pulled apart, and by this time Sam was sitting at the table and flipping through t.v. channels trying to give them some space. “Thank you for being patient with me.” Dean breathed. “Dean, I waited to meet you for six billion years. I would have waited twice as long if it meant you’d be ready and that Sam would be on board.” Cas glanced over to Sam and smiled. “I’ve grown quite fond of our little family.” He looked back at Dean with a gleam in his eye. “Team free will, and here we are, finally free.” A huge grin stretched across Dean’s face. “I love you.” Dean said. “I know.” Cas replied, quoting his favorite character from the Star Wars movie Dean made him watch on their last date, and this time it was Dean who pulled Cas in for a kiss.

#castiel #dean winchester #dean winchester is bi #destiel #cas dean #heller #jensen ackles #misha collins #destiel fanfiction

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creepyalienghost · 3 years

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Prompt request by: @Lizzy_Is_Great

Thank you

—-

On a stormy night, little Amy was being dragged down the dark hallway by what sounded like a man and a boy. But she wasn’t entirely sure from the screaming and kicking she was doing herself. She was blindfolded and had been ever since she was knocked out by the yellow bear. When she woke up she though she had gone blind for a full minute before she realized she was just blindfolded. That was days ago! And she still hadn’t been found by her mommy or the police.

“Hold on to her!” An older recipe voice ordered the other.

“I-I’m trying! She’s squirming to much!” The voice of a boy replied back to the man as he squeeze harder on her wrist.

A loud crack of thunder boomed outside as the man and the boy drag little Amy thought a door and prompt her up on a cold Metal table. She kicked and punched at them but it was no use. Her arms and legs were strapped Tightly in place by the man and the boy, almost cutting off her circulation.“Good work.” The man praised the boy. “Now let’s begin.

The boy sat back mostly watched as the man tortured little Amy for nearly hours using all kinds of torture The methods. Needles for shoving in the skin or in the eyes, fires could burn your hair off or learn burns and so much more. It took nearly two hours before her body couldn’t take anymore pain and blood lose. Sammy saw her take her last breath before she stop moving and went totally quite. The man places two cold bloody fingers on the side of her next then looked straight at the boy. “She’s dead.”

—

Johnny’s alarm clock went off at the typical time of 7 o’clock. He hated getting up this early every day but it was soon going to be summer. Today was the last day of school and he was ready for it. Johnny got to his feet and started preparing for the day. He changed into his school clothes, brushed his teach and combed his hair then he went down stairs for breakfast.

His uncle was in the kitchen frying up the bacon when he got there. Johnny had been liven with his uncel for most of his life, due to his parents serving in the military. He loved his parents and missed them but he knew they were saving people. He wanted to be follow in their footsteps one day. To help save lives. He would. Once he turns 18 he plans on joining as well.

“Morning.” His uncle greeted as he about finishes the last of their breakfast.

“Good morning uncle Allen” Johnny replied back to him, grabbing the plate of finish waffles to help set the table.

Once the table was set both of them took there sets and started digging into there Heathy breakfast, Johnny asked his usual question. “Anything from my parents?”

Uncle Allen looked up from his plate with a frown and shook his head. “Nothing today, Johnny. But hey, I promise you they will be here one day, soon.” He gave his nephew an Encouraging smile.

Johnny smiled back as he nodded. He understood America needed them more over there then he needed them here. His parents were strong and he knew that. He also knew they would be well taken care of if anything happened to them out there.

After a while of talking, Johnny finished his breakfast by stuffing the last bite In his mouth then he grabbed his dishes and headed to the sink, rinsing them off and placing them in. After, he looked at the clock and noticed that it was time to head out. “I’ll see you after school uncle Allan.” He grabbed his back and waved goodbye to him as he was walking out.

“Alright!” His uncle replied, flipping open a news paper in front of him, then adding. “Oh and look for a part time job after school!” He called out to Johnny. “It’s time you’d start working a bit.”

“Alright. Well do!” Johnny called out before closing the door behind him.

——-

School was a half day since it was the last day of it. There for everyone started leaving at noon. Johnny collected his belongings from his locker and headed for the exit. Before he left though the door something catches his eye. He looked over at the bulletin board where the latest news gets posted. There was a new sheet on there. A missing persons sheet. A little girl by the name of Amy Johnson has been missing since last week and no one could find her. It was strange because nothing like that happens in a small town like this, and now three kids we’re missing in as little as six months.

“Sad. isn’t it?”

A quiet Voice spoke behind, making Johnny jump and Spohn around. It was the new kid in his grade. Short with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. There was something in the way the boy looked at him. He couldn’t put his finger on it though but he made Johnny feel uneasy. He figured it was because he was new and didn’t have any friends yet.

“Y-yeah.” Johnny replied. “Very sad. I hope they find the girl.” He said then added. “All of them.”

The boy nodded and looked at the missing persons porter again. “So do I..”

With that Johnny excused himself and left the grounds of the school, headed to look for a job. He went to different places to see if they were hiring. Some wasn’t but others were which he Replied to. Eventually he got to a place he almost forgotten. A Freddy fazbears pizza, opened one year ago here. The sun went down and it was getting late now so he figured this could be his last job Application today for the day.

Johnny went inside the restaurant and took a look around. There was the man cast performing on the main stage with a group of children singing and dancing with them. Another more smaller group were huddled near pirates cove, listening to the stories of there favorite pirate. The parents were at their own tables not talking among themselves, paying no attention to there kids. To his right was a fun looking prize Corner with no one working it at the time.

“Hey. You.” Said a voice at the check in desk. Johnny turned around to a kid a bit older then him. “You picking up your sibling or are you staying here?” The kid ask. “If your staying you need to pay.”

Johnny shook his hand. “No. Nether.” He

Replied. “Actually I’m looking for a job and I thought about applying for here! Y’all tiring?”

The kid gave him a long look for a moment then he sighed and nodded to Johnny. “Follow me”

Johnny followed him though the main area into the back part. It was much more darker here and much more plainer then the front. He was lead down the dark hallway that seemed to go on forever in Jonnys mind. Door after door they passed and Johnny was soon questioning how long they had been in there. Essentially they come to a stop at one and the kid knocked on it then peaked his head in.

“Father. There’s a kid here that wants to apply here for the summer job.” The kid said.

“Vary well” Johnny herd a voice say from inside. His voice seemed like ice to him. “Bring him in.”

The kid looked over at Johnny and waved him though. Johnny stepped passed him, into a bright lit office of the owner of this place. “Hello sir.” He started. “I’m Johnny.” He said in a professional way.

“Hello Johnny.” The owner got up from his chair and stepped around his desk, leaning on it in front of Johnny. “I’m William Afton.” He gave Johnny a smile to show respect. “You looking for a job I hear?”

Johnny nodded. “Yes sir.” He replied. “I can do any job at any time. I know how to cook and bake, I seen how a Cast register work and I help with maintenance, sir.”

The owner places his hand on his chin, scratching it in thought. “We have enough cooks here and we got someone on cash register.” He informed. Johnny listen and nodded, getting ready to close the interview. “But!” William said. “We do in need for another maintenance person. What do you say, Johnny? 8 dollars an hour from 8pm though 2pm” He looked over at Johnny, holding out his hand.

Johnny nodded, eagerly. “I say that’s a fine deal, sir.” He reached his hand to Williams and shook it.

“Great!” William Afon said then he opened his drawer and pull out an Application sheet from a file. “Fell this out as I’ll get your uniform.” He handed it to Johnny then left the room, leaving him alone

Johnny filled out the simple Application sheep, giving his name, number

and other things it needs. As he finished it William Afton walked back in, holding two pairs of black pants and gray long sleeve shirts. “Here your uniform Johnny.” William said, handing them to him. “You can start tomorrow night, alright?”

Johnny nodded. “Yes sir! Thank you sir!” With that Johnny left back down the long dark hallways and pass the now smaller crowd of kids still singing and dancing with Freddy. Johnny went home and hung up his uniform nice and neat, ready for tomorrow.

#bendy and the ink machine #sammy lawrence #fnaf #William Afton

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rushingheadlong · 4 years

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The Hazier Days - A Queen gen fic

Summary: It’s too hot for embarrassment as Brian finally caves to the summer heat.

Wordcount: ~1,600

Tags: Non-reader fic, no pairing/gen, some minor body image issues… otherwise just lots of soft fluff

Notes: Listen it’s barely above freezing where I live and I’m coping by writing summer fic do not judge me for this. If anything blame @tenderbri for putting the idea of 70s Tank Top Bri into my head in the first place.

Summer is bearing down on London, the weather turning from pleasantly warm to uncomfortably sweltering in the blink of an eye.

Brian spends his days working on his thesis research in labs barely cooler than the city outside, slowly boiling in jeans that stick to his legs and shirts unbuttoned a hair past what should be respectable in an academic setting. It’s hardly cooler at night, even with the old windows in his flat propped open and fans blowing stale air around the room, but at least Brian can strip down to his pants in the privacy of his own home. That, at least, is better than the nights where they have shows and Brian is forced into one-too-many layers as a concession to Freddie’s taste in fashion, leaving him soaked through with sweat and light-headed from dehydration by the time he finally stumbles off the stage.

Evenings, though, are spent here, in the windowless practice room in some forgotten corner of Imperial College as Queen spends hours upon hours in rehearsal. Their efforts are paying off, and with the addition of John their little group is finally coming together in a way that almost feels unreal - but Brian still wonders, sometimes, what he’s doing here, what he hopes to get out of all of this, when his focus should be on his doctorate…

Tonight, though, the only thing weighing Brian down is the slowly climbing temperature in the room, not guilt over his unfinished dissertation or anxieties over the inevitable fight with his father if Brian decides to set aside his studies. The summer heat sinks into his body, leaving his thoughts lazy and his limbs leadened, only his fingers moving as he plucks out an absentminded tune on his Old Lady, the beginnings of a song coming through with each repetition of the notes.

“That sounds lovely,” Freddie says.

His fingers comb gently through Brian’s hair, a soothing gesture that’s almost enough to put Brian to sleep. Across the room Roger and John are working out some fine detail of the rhythm line in the song they’ve been trying to perfect for the last few days, and Freddie had used the small break in practicing to offer to braid Brian’s hair to get the heavy mane off his neck.

On a normal - or at least a cooler - day Brian might have demured, embarrassed by his frizzy hair that doesn’t quite know what to do with itself now that he’s not aggressively straightening it every day. But it’s too hot for embarrassment and Brian had ultimately agreed rather quickly, taking a seat on the floor in front of Freddie’s chair to give the singer full access to Brian’s hair.

“It’s something,” Brian says. He plucks the same note a few times - something sounds off about it, his guitar gone slightly out-of-tune in the heat of the room, but he doesn’t feel particularly inclined to fix the issue at the moment.

Even speaking takes far too much effort, Brian’s words coming out soft and almost mumbled as he struggles to think of anything other than how hot he is. He conceded to the heat and wore shorts to the studio, baring his knobbly knees and too-long legs to the world rather than roast in a pair of jeans. His shirt is almost fully unbuttoned and hanging open and loose over his chest, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and still Brian feels like he’s going to melt into a puddle here on the practice room floor.

“Well, I like it.” Freddie sections out Brian’s thick hair, nimble fingers weaving the strands together into a simple braid and tying off the end with a stolen hair tie. “There. How’s that feel?”

Brian reaches back and touches the braid, running his fingers along the length, feeling the spots where his hair is already fighting to escape its woven confines. Brian wonders what it looks like, and then decides that maybe he’s better off not knowing. “Good. Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome,” Freddie says. “Although…” Freddie plucks at Brian’s shirt, which is drenched with sweat and sticking uncomfortably to his skin. “You still look far too warm, darling. Why don’t you just take this off?”

The others didn’t hesitate to lose their shirts early in the session but Brian has been resisting, undoing more buttons and rolling his sleeves up further rather than relinquishing the garment altogether. Even in the privacy of the practice room room Brian can’t help but feel a thin tendril of shame curl up through his chest at the thought of exposing that much of his body at once. He’s too gangly and too thin, long-limbed in a way that’s awkward instead of enticing, and he thinks he’d rather pass out from heat exhaustion than embarrass himself in front of his friends like that.

“I don’t want to,” Brian mumbles.

Behind him Freddie huffs, clearly gearing up to keep pushing the issue, but before he can say anything Roger calls from across the room, “He’s right, mate, you look pretty fucking miserable. There’s a spare shirt in my bag if you want it, at least it’ll be dry and lighter than what you’re wearing now.”

The others are all looking at him now, their scrutiny making Brian’s face flush hotter than it already was. For a moment Brian’s stubborn streak rears its ugly head, makes him want to refuse simply to prove that he’s committed to the decisions he’s already made… but it’s too hot to get into a useless argument with his friends, and once again Brian finds himself quickly relenting to the suggestion.

“Fine,” he says, and passes his guitar off to Freddie so he can stagger to his feet, grimacing at the feeling of his sticky skin peeling away from the practice room floor.

Roger’s knapsack is thrown haphazardly against the wall, books and papers and various odds-and-ends spilling out of it, but despite the shock of chaos that seems to always seems to follow the drummer around it doesn’t take Brian long to find the shirt that Roger mentioned - though his heart slowly sinks as he pulls it out of the bag.

“Rog, is this what you were talking about?” Brian asks, waving the shirt in Roger’s general direction as he digs through the bag with his other hand, even though it’s readily apparent that there are no other clothes there.

“Yep, that’s the one,” Roger confirms. “Might be a bit short, but it should still fit fine enough to rehearse in.”

“Right,” Brian says faintly, though Roger has already turned back to his conversation with John.

He looks down at the shirt in his hands and weighs his options. It’s barely a shirt at all, just a tank top, and that’s really the problem here. No sleeves to hide his boney shoulders, no excess fabric to mask how thin he really is, arms and pits on full display… Paired with the shorts he already has on, he might as well be wearing nothing at all for how indecent - and ridiculous - he’s bound to look.

But then again… if it’s too hot for embarrassment, maybe it’s too hot for propriety as well.

Before he can start overthinking things again Brian strips out of his shirt, taking just a split-second to relish the feeling of having the damp garment off and the dry air against his skin, before finally tugging on the borrowed tank top. It’s a hair too small, riding up to show a scant few inches of skin along his waistband, to say nothing of how exposed Brian feels having his arms on display like this… He’s profoundly grateful that there aren’t any mirrors in the practice room, so he doesn’t have to see himself like this.

“Hey, that doesn’t look bad on you,” Roger says as Brian tries, and largely fails, to get the tank top to stretch enough to fully cover his stomach. “You wanna keep it? I hardly wear it anyway.”

Brian can’t stop himself from making a face at the suggestion, though some of his anxieties fade away at Roger’s easy compliment and the lack of judgement from the others.

Only Freddie laughs, but it’s directed at Roger as he says, “Leave him alone, Rog, you know our Brimi doesn’t like your garish taste in clothing.”

“Garish?” Roger echoes, voice full of faux indignation. How they have the energy to wind each other up like this, Brian has no idea. He may be slightly cooler now but Brian still feels tired and sluggish, his thoughts too slow to even begin to join in with the others good-natured bickering.

Instead he makes his way back over to Freddie, taking back his guitar and sinking down to the floor with his back against the wall. The stone feels frigid against his overheated skin and he sighs, almost content for the first time in hours, and lets his eyes slip shut - just for a moment, just until Roger and John are done hashing out this section and they can get back to rehearsal…

“Freddie, d’you want to show us that new song you were talking about?” John asks, quietly, a few moments later. “Walk us through the rhythm section, and give Brian a chance to cool off for a bit?” He nods towards the guitarist and adds, “He looks like he could use the break.”

Brian doesn’t hear John’s suggestion, or notice when the three of them glance in his direction. He’s already dozed off, lulled to a hazy sleep by the heat, his Red Special held loose in his lap and his long limbs stretched out, sweat drying on his bare skin and a few loose strands of hair blowing gently with every soft exhale.

Queen doesn’t have much time left in their practice session, but none of them have the heart to wake up Brian now.

“Sounds like a perfect idea to me,” Freddie says as the three of them dive back into work, and leave their friend to sleep in peace.

#brian may fic #queen fic #queen band fic #brian may imagine #my fic #brian #(no beta minimal edit we die like men)

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trashyswitch · 4 years

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The Afton Family Reunion

Chapter 1: A Surprise Visit

The Afton kids have been brought over to their father's workplace for a surprise visit! The Afton kids get to reunite with their favorite animatronic characters, and introduce their new 2 year old brother: Chris!

Tons of cuteness and silliness ensue...

I don't know how many parts there are going to be. But, I know there will be at least 2 parts to this. Hope you guys enjoy!

“Now remember kids: I want you three to be on your best behaviour.” Mrs. Afton warned. She pointed to Elizabeth first. “No annoying your father and no silly pranks on your Uncle Henry.” Mrs. Afton ordered.

“Awww…” Elizabeth whined, crossing her arms and pouting.

“Christopher, no being sassy to your poor father.” Mrs. Afton ordered her toddler. In response, Chris smiled and blew a raspberry into her face. With a sigh and a quick wipe of the face, Mrs. Afton moved onto her eldest: Michael. “Be a good example. And NO tampering with the animatronics.” Mrs. Afton ordered.

Michael sighed, but shrugged his shoulders. “Fair enough.” He replied.

“Thank you.” She muttered. Then, Mrs. Afton unlocked the back door to the pizzeria and opened it. “Now go in and surprise your father.” Mrs. Afton suggested with a smile. With no time to lose, Elizabeth, Michael and Chris all took off running to the stage.

“DADDY!” Elizabeth shouted excitedly.

“SURPRISE!” Michael shouted after her.

With a little help from Elizabeth, Chris ran up to his father as well. “DAAAAADAAAAAAAA!” Chris yelled as best he could towards the man.

William turned around in pure surprise and was suddenly bombarded by a ginger-haired girl and a little boy being held up to his face by a curly-haired teen. “Well lookie here!” William reacted.

“Awww! If I knew there was gonna be a family reunion, I would’ve brought Charlie!” Henry reacted.

Elizabeth sprinted up to Henry. “HENRY!” Elizabeth yelled, jumping up to give him a big hug.

“Well hello, Lizzy! What’s my cute little gingey doing in the pizzeria?” Henry asked, fluffing her orange hair.

“They came with me.” someone said behind her. Henry and William looked at the person, and smiled.

“Hi Sweety.” William greeted, giving her a big kiss on the lips. Almost immediately, Michael rolled his eyes and looked away, while Elizabeth smiled, crossed her fingers together and let out a loud “Awwww!”.

Henry snickered to himself as he heard Elizabeth practically swooning over her parents. William was snickering as well, and couldn’t even properly kiss her without a smile forming on his lips. Soon, William pulled away to allow the trapped chuckles to leave him. “Still find it funny how lovey-dovey Elizabeth is?” Mrs. Afton asked.

“Yup. I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.” William admitted.

“Same here. Raggedy Lizzie over here, might be getting a boyfriend before Michael even considers dating.” Henry told William with a smirk.

“Hey!” Michael reacted, elbowing Henry in the side.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS-” a voice spoke from the speaker.

Michael jumped. “What the-”

Mrs. Afton looked at her husband. “What’s going on, Will?” she asked. William only shrugged his shoulders in reply.

Henry scratched his head in confusion. “I thought they were in sleep mode?”

“FAZBEAR ENTERTAINMENT WOULD LIKE YOU TO PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR THE ONE...THE ONLY...FREDDY FAZBEAR!” The voice introduced.

“FREDDY FAZBEAR!” Elizabeth shouted excitedly.

Chris looked watched with starry eyes as a big brown bear walked out from the curtain and onto the stage.

“Do my bear ears deceive me? Do I hear...the world famous Afton children?” Freddy asked, looking down at the toddler, child and teen.

William smiled. “Hi Freddy! Your ears are really hearing them!” He explained. He walked up to Michael first, and placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “You remember Michael, right?” William asked.

“Michael?!” Freddy reacted.

“Like, Tiny Mikey?!” Foxy asked with a wide eye.

Michael wasn’t sure what to say. That nickname was all too familiar to him. “W-Wait...How-”

Foxy walked closer to the end of the stage. “Well shiver me timbers!” Foxy yelled, hopping off the stage. “Yer up to my speaker now! The last time I saw yer cute little face, was when you were a little shorter than yer sister!” Foxy reacted.

A big smile showed up on Michael’s face as he got to see his childhood favorite animatronic face to face again. “It’s been too long! Man, I missed seeing you!” Michael outwardly said.

Foxy beamed and wagged his tail. “Really?!” Foxy bursted.

“I mean, yeah! I still have that foxy mask I got from my birthday party that year!” Michael told him.

“Oh yeah, his priiized possession! He NEVER lets us play with it!” Elizabeth added.

“It’s not a toy. It’s a collectable!” Michael argued. “It’s like Dad with his golden badge.” Michael mentioned.

William’s head shot up at Michael. “Excuse me?!”

“He’s not wrong, Will.” Mrs. Afton mutters.

“Or his hat, for that matter.” Michael added, glancing at the sneaky man that was standing behind his father.

Right at the same time, Henry grabbed the hat from William’s head. “I GOT IT!” Henry shouted, sprinting off.

“HEY!” Will shouted, taking off after him. “GIVE IT BACK!” Will shouted after him.

Bonnie, Foxy and the 2 older kids couldn’t help but laugh at the chaos. It was hilarious seeing his Dad so fed up over a simple hat.

“Oh! And of course, Elizabeth!” Freddy reacted happily, fluffing her hair.

“Hi Freddy!” Elizabeth said to him with a wave.

“My goodness! You’ve gotten big too!” Bonnie reacted. “And your hair has gotten very long. You have your own orange scarf!” Bonnie added.

“Yes! And:” Elizabeth paused and flipped her hair out of the way in a sassy way. “I can be Daphne from Scooby Doo!” Elizabeth said excitedly.

“Oh yeah! I forgot that TV show was still around.” Henry muttered.

“And lastly: our newest edition: Christopher Afton.” Mrs. Afton introduced, looking at her son.

“Or Chris for short.” Michael added.

Freddy gasped, placed his hand over his snout and mouth, and held out a finger to the toddler. “Hi Chris!” Freddy greeted.

Chris looked up at the bear and smiled. “TEDDY BEAR!” Chris shouted, pointing to Freddy. Freddy gasped excitedly and looked at Mrs. Afton. “Oh my gosh! I’d be crying of joy right now, if I had tears!” Freddy reacted.

While Freddy was trying not to melt from Chris’s radiating cuteness, Foxy had snuck up to Michael’s blind side and started poking his sides. “EEEP! FOXY!” Michael yelped.

“Wow! You’re still ticklish after all this time?” Foxy asked.

“I...maybe…” Michael replied.

“Yeah! He’s super ticklish! His sides are ticklish, his armpits are ticklish...His feet are ticklish too, but it’s hard trying to tickle his feet without someone holding them down.” Elizabeth spilled.

Michael, feeling both betrayed and playful, picked up his little sister and tickled her like there was no tomorrow left in sight.

Meanwhile, William had finally tackled his best friend onto the ground with sheer willpower, and was struggling to get his hat back from him. Upon hearing the animatronics’ conversation however, William found...other ways to combat him.

“Give the hat back right now, or I’ll be forced to reach for desperate measures.” William warned, pulling up his sleeves as he warned.

“Oh please...It’s just a stinkin’ hat! Is it really worth the- BAAHAHAHA! Uh oh! WAHAIT! WAIHIHIHIHIT!” Henry begged, falling into uncontrollable laughter just from a few squeezes to the ribs.

William had decided to expose Henry’s weakness by tickling his ribs and hips. “FEAR THE POWER OF THE TICKLE MONSTER!” William proudly declared.

“Aaaand THAT is where I part ways! Have fun you guys! Don’t kill Henry!” Mrs. Afton said quickly, before practically sprinting herself out of the pizzeria with the car.

“Okay. BYE HUNNY!” William yelled to his wife before continuing to tickle his best friend. William got the chance to tickle Henry for a good 5 minutes, before he was dragged away by Freddy Fazbear himself! “AAH! What the- You evil bear!” William yelled.

“Here’s a fun fact for you, Mr. Purple Guy:” Freddy said to him.

“Uuuuh...Rude much? I was trying to get my hat back.” William tried saying.

Freddy started poking at William’s sides, taking the information from Elizabeth and using it on him. “You’re not the only tickle monster in this Pizzeria…” Freddy warned.

William’s eyes widened as he started squirming away from the pokes. “NO, no! No no no! Don’t you even THINK ABOUT IT! I WILL HIT YOU!” William warned, showing Freddy his fist.

Bonnie, Foxy and Henry all bursted out laughing at the man. “Nice try Will. Little reminder: Freddy is made of metal.” henry reminded him.

William’s smile dropped at that statement, before he looked down and felt Freddy’s arms. Yup...they were metal alright. “...Well- EEK! Nohohoho, NOHOHohohoho!” William warned before falling into an uncontrollable giggle fit.

Freddy was tickling his sides and hips as much as he possibly could while he was stuck in his grasp. Michael had paused his tickle attack on Elizabeth, so he could watch the rare sight in awe.

Eager to join, Michael looked over at his sister and held out a hand. “Truce?” Michael offered.

“Truce.” Elizabeth shook his hand, before letting go and throwing her hand into the air. “Now let’s tickle Dad!” Elizabeth declared.

Michael and Elizabeth ran to either side of their father and started tickling him almost right away! While Elizabeth went for his armpit and upper ribs, Michael went for his belly and his hip.

“GAHA! NAHAHAHAHAHA! WAHAHAHAHAIT! KNOHOHOHOHOCK IHIHIT OHOHOHOHOFF!” William shouted.

“Wow! You’re REALLY ticklish! I don’t even need to tickle you very much! Mike and Lizzy have it all covered!” Freddy reacted.

“You bet we do!” Elizabeth added proudly.

“LEHEHEHET MEHE GOHOHOHOHO! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!” William begged.

“Geez! We're not even tickling you very much! You must be crazy ticklish!” Michael teased.

“YOHOHOHOU THIHIHIHIHINK?!” William yelled.

While Elizabeth and Michael were getting revenge on their father for all the tickle fights he started, Henry had picked up Chris and was holding him with a smirk. Chris was giggling and laughing upon seeing his Dad laughing in the bear’s arms. “Is dada being funny?” Henry asked him.

“Dada tic-ish!” Chris told him, pointing at his father.

Henry smiled and chuckled. “I know. He’s very ticklish.” Henry told him.

“U’cle tic-ish?” Chris asked, before somewhat wiggling his fingers on Henry’s neck.

Henry tittered at the surprisingly really ticklish feeling. The man wasn’t expecting the toddler’s tickles to actually tickle him. He curled his neck slightly and sent Chris a toothy smile. “Hehehehe! Yeah, Uncle Henry is ticklish too.” Henry replied, still slightly giggling.

Chris looked up at Henry’s glasses and immediately stopped tickling him. “G’assis!” Chris exclaimed excitedly.

“Yeah! I do have-” Henry’s words were interrupted by Chris’s slightly aggressive grasp on his glasses. “Ah ah ah, careful.” Henry warned.

“Ca’ful.” Chris said back. Chris held onto the glasses, and immediately found out they could fold up and down. Upon learning this, Chris started folding the glasses up and down, up and down, up and down like the world depended on it.

Henry looked like he was gonna melt upon seeing the child grow so fond of something so simple. “Aww! He likes your glasses!” Chica reacted.

“I know.” Henry said as calmly as he could muster.

Looking up, Chris ended up dropping the glasses upon seeing a big yellow animatronic animal! “DUCKY!” Chris yelled happily.

Chica opened her beak in surprise and placed her hand on her chest at the adorable sound. “Awwww! Hi there, I’m Chica!” She introduced herself.

Chris held his arms out and started opening and closing his hands. Henry smiled. “He wants you to hold him.” Henry explained.

“Really?” Chica asked.

“Mm hmm! Here:” Henry handed Chica the little child and helped Chica hold him in the proper safe way. When Henry brought his hands away, Chris was sitting up in Chica’s arm, resting on top of her arm.

“Yelllooow!” Chris declared.

Henry smiled widely, and started waving to William and the other kids. “Michael! Elizabeth! Stop tickling your father and get over here!” Henry encouraged them. Michael and Elizabeth both seemed to have stopped their tickle attack, and looked over at Chica with their little brother.

“Awww! Chris is with Chica!” Elizabeth reacted happily, running over to the chicken and the toddler.

Chica, starting to grow confident with him fairly quickly, lifted the boy up onto her shoulders and held onto Chris’s legs.

“Wow! You’re so tall!” Michael joked.

Chris laughed excitedly and reached his arms up towards the roof, to try to touch the ceiling. “WEEEEEE!” Chris squealed excitedly.

“Hey Chica! I can do that too!” Freddy told her, before lifting up William and placing him onto his shoulders.

“OH GOD-...Ooooookaaaayyy…” William muttered, visibly nervous.

Michael, Elizabeth and Henry all laughed at poor William. “Awww! Baby William is soooo tall!” Henry teased.

“I...uh-well...Shut up!” William shot back at him.

“Uh oh! I think the baby’s a liiittle agitated.” Michael teased.

Elizabeth giggled at this. “He might need some tickles on the feet to fix that issue!” Elizabeth suggested.

Michael gave Elizabeth a light nudge. “Good idea, Lizzy!” Michael reacted.

Henry smirked and walked up to his best friend. “I can gladly volunteer. I do need a little revenge of my own, after all.” Henry added, removing his slip-on shoes and giving his first foot a light scratch.

“Nohoho! Hehehenry!” William giggled, tugging on his foot.

“Yes? What would the widdle pwecious Afton like?” Henry teased.

“Hahahavehehen’t I beheen tihihicklehed ehenough tohodahahahay?!” William asked.

“No! No you haven’t, actually! You need to be tickled a lot more than that!” Henry told him. Henry removed the other shoe and let it bounce onto the ground. “Hold on!” Henry warned before skittering both pairs of fingers on William’s feet.

“NAHAHAHAHAHA! COHOHOME OHOHOHOHON!” William laughed.

Chris started laughing right about the same time too! Curious as to why, Michael turned around and snickered at his little brother. Chris was pointing at his father and laughing his head off, while Chica was smiling and making little remarks towards Chris about William. The little guy looked like he was watching the funniest thing he’s ever seen in his entire life!

Eager to save this, Michael walked up to one of the cameras in the room and turned it a little, so the camera lens was facing the silly scene. He wanted to get this video on recording, so he can get the video onto a videocassette to show his Mom at home.

This was gonna be the PERFECT blackmail for him...

#chris afton is the crying child #ticklefic #switch!william #switch!henry #ler!michael #switch!elizabeth #slight ler!chris #Family Fluff

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disgraceddogstar · 4 years

Photo

Sirius Orion Black III

birthday: november 3rd house: gryffindor blood status: pureblood loyalty: order of the phoenix clubs: astronomy, astronomy homework, dueling zodiac: scorpio mbti: enfp-t (campaigner) alignment: chaotic good

✓ Humor ——- “Did you like question ten, Moony?”

He is barking laughter and poorly timed jokes, puns upon puns - seriously. A grin as wide as the day is long, carefree and easy. Light in the black of war; white sheep in the Black family. His good humor has covered him and carried him through all that he’s seen. It’s as much a shield for himself as it is those with whom he surrounds himself.

✓ Loyal ——- “Died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you!”

He is fierce, heart full for those he holds dear. Not many are kept that close, but there is no hesitation when asked to give his life. Warmth and comfort, in the crook of his smile and the corners of his eyes. Brilliance and steadfast companionship: a dog is man’s best friend.

✓/✕ Strong-Minded | Judgemental ——- “Besides, the world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters. We’ve all got both light and dark inside us.”

He is a tree rooted to the earth, tall and proud. Unmoving and firm against the hailing storm. Beliefs, unwavering, unwilling to hear. Opposition is wrong, and he knows it as well as he knows the stories written in the night sky. He is strong-willed and stubborn; a brick wall would be more receptive. He thinks himself open-minded, but it is only another belief.

✕ Impulsive ——- “What is life without a little risk?”

He is snap decisions made in the heat of the moment. Turbulent and emotional, judgement shifts as easily as debris caught in the tide. Words, biting, leaving scars as easily as laughter erases them from his mind. Passing thoughts in an endless stream of chaos - why waste time paying mind to outcomes when you can just act?

✕ Rebellious ——- “There are things worth dying for!”

He is 2 am, leather, and a mess of discarded liquor bottles scattered about the floor. Blood-kissed knuckles and knuckle-kissed jaw. Smirks and sighs toppling from carved lips. Caught in a tempest, winds whipping his hair about his face, unable to see, blindly stumbling along, deafening roars threaten to consume him - one foot in front of the other. Raw magic crackling in the air, electricity against your skin; a beautiful sight when it implodes.

headcanons: (tw: mania, depression, alcohol, slurs, mentions of dysphoria, mentions of abuse)

Patronus: It’s commonplace that a Patronus will match a witch or wizard’s Animagus form, if they happen to be such, and Sirius is no exception. His Patronus takes the form of a dog, matching that of his Animagus counterpart: a bear-like German Shepherd. German Shepherds are known for being intelligent, loyal, and fiercely over-protective. Any close friend of his would attest to the fact that Sirius exemplifies those qualities. He is a bright wizard, and he would do anything for those he cares about.

Wand: As badly as Sirius sometimes wishes his wand was made from Dogwood (think of the irony! the puns! the beauty of the universe!), he was chosen by a Cypress wood wand with a Dragon Heartstring core, 15 inches, rigid.

“Cypress wands are associated with nobility. The great medieval wandmaker, Geraint Ollivander, wrote that he was always honoured to match a cypress wand, for he knew he was meeting a witch or wizard who would die a heroic death. Fortunately, in these less blood-thirsty times, the possessors of cypress wands are rarely called upon to lay down their lives, though doubtless many of them would do so if required. Wands of cypress find their soul mates among the brave, the bold and the self-sacrificing: those who are unafraid to confront the shadows in their own and others’ natures.”

Sirius won’t think about the wandlore behind cypress wands and their masters dying a heroic death until the fleeting, infinite moment in which he begins to fall in the Department of Mysteries. He will think it ironic, then, that his death is hardly heroic at all; that, naturally, James and Lily had far more heroic deaths than him. (He will also think about finally, finally reuniting with them again, and he will think of how sorry he is for leaving Remus and Harry behind, but James, here I come.)

“As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner. The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental.”

It is of interest to note that dragon wands tend to be easily swayed towards the Dark Arts. Sirius thinks it should be noted, and then he will tell it to fuck right off, thank you very much. He knows that, had things gone just a little differently, he wouldn’t have had any difficulty using Dark Magic; in fact, he’d have been rather adept at it. Sirius laughs at the notion - and would like to tell the Dark Lord that he can fuck right off, too.

Sirius is a very quick learner. He is intelligent and, when he puts his mind to a task, he is able to stay determined and focused. Magic runs strong in his veins, so it’s only natural he be paired with a wand that is able to keep up with him and his raw power. That being said, however, Sirius’ magic is - too often - unpredictable. It has been since he was a child, and he still experiences outbursts of unintentional magic when his emotions get the better of him; the dragon wand nurtures his accidental magic, at times.

&--------Little Lion Man

He is named for the Dog Star, the most brilliant star in the sky, visible from anywhere on Earth - an actuality he embraces and carries with him from the moment he is able to understand its meaning. Ancient namings signify he is scorching, sparkling, bringing destruction and rebirth. He is important, and his name informs everyone of such.

But he is the point of Canis Major, a hunting dog, ever looking towards his master, Orion. Later, he would think it ironic that he was intended to obediently follow the hunter across the sky. When he was young, though, he did follow his father, his master, with wide eyes and a thirst to learn, to emulate. He did, after all, carry his father’s name as one of his own. He thought it only right that he be his hunter. He learned quickly enough to leave Orion Black be.

His name embraces the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black - a reality he despises when he is older. He is taught to believe that to be a Black, to be a Pureblood is to be royalty. He believes it.

He spends the majority of his childhood being trained to be the perfect Pureblood heir, to be the perfect Black. He attends many Pureblood-only balls and events, and is taught the proper way to mingle with other Purebloods. He learns manners and etiquette, and he is expected to be a proper child. There are never many other children at the balls, but he is reminded that it is improper to run about and make a fool of oneself like ordinary children; he is, after all, anything but ordinary.

How could he be? His name attests to his brilliance.

&--------My Manic & I

Sirius is living with undiagnosed Bipolar 1 Disorder. It won’t ever be diagnosed or named in-game since they’re living in the 70s (it’s still fairly misunderstood now), but it definitely affects him. I feel like his upswings are pretty intense, and it usually results in him wanting to be out all the time and doing things, and he feels infallible and invincible, and he’s a lot more likely to be reckless (even more so than what is typical for him) and make snap decisions. He definitely has a tendency towards dangerous ideas that he thinks are absolutely brilliant (see: the Prank with Snape). On the other end of it, though, Sirius’ lows are very low, and he self-medicates with alcohol when he’s suffering from the worst of his depression (see: pretty much all of Order of the Phoenix). But I don’t think that Sirius recognizes the depression as such. It’s a lot easier for him to acknowledge when he’s feeling great and on top of the world as opposed to when he’s feeling like shit and struggles with getting out of bed in the morning. He’s a lot more likely to hide that side of himself, too, and play it off with a smirk and light-hearted joke at someone else’s expense. He became an expert at hiding his emotions at a young age, after all.

&--------I Want to Break Free

If someone were to ask Sirius his gender and sexuality, he would quirk a brow and scoff and let out a bark of laughter because what sort of daft question is that? But, secretly. he enjoys the company of both men and women.

Sirius doesn’t remember the exact moment when he realized that he was attracted to men. Maybe it was sometime in his third year, when he had accompanied James to watch the Quidditch team practice. Maybe he had caught himself staring at one of the seventh years - a boy with shaggy brown hair and a strong jaw - as he flew around the Pitch. Maybe he had felt the distinct swoop in his stomach as he had watched, and maybe he had imagined what it would be like to kiss the older boy.

But Sirius only really remembers being too afraid to say anything to James, Remus, and Peter, being afraid that it would change everything and they would think him a freak that they didn’t want to be friends with, anymore. Especially after his “prank” on Snape in 5th year, Sirius doesn’t want to do anything that could again alienate him from his friends. They’re all he really has.

Something else he would never admit to is the many times he has passed frilly shop windows and imagined being able to wear whatever clothes he wants that he sees, or wished he could be as comfortable in his own skin as David Bowie, or Freddie Mercury. Sirius doesn’t always feel exactly right in the body he has, and he doesn’t understand it even a little bit. After all, it’s hard enough to deal with the war; he doesn’t want to even begin to focus on the whole gender bit.

In modern terminology, he would identify as gender-fluid demiromantic pansexual, but that’s too fancy and way ahead of his time, so all he knows is that he’s queer - just another way in which he would have disappointed his family.

&--------The best thing that has ever happened:

“I know that you will make us proud, Sirius.”

No one ever expected Sirius to be a Gryffindor; he certainly hadn’t when he had stepped up to the stool to be sorted his first year at Hogwarts. His entire family had come from Slytherin. He even knew that, somewhere in his lineage, he was related to Salazar Slytherin himself. But as Sirius’ attention had drifted to the far table of green and silver, he had felt a tug in his stomach that he hadn’t really understood.

….“GRYFFINDOR!”

He ignored the shouts and jests coming from the Slytherin table to rightfully take his place amongst the lions of Hogwarts. He was joined, thankfully, by James and the redhead he had met with the greasy boy (he was grateful - and always would be - that the greasy one ended up in Slytherin).

It wasn’t before he was whisked away to his dorm and he got to know his fellow dormmates: one sickly-looking boy named Remus and a short, ordinary boy named Peter. Sirius thought he could do without Remus and Peter. Who needed them when he had James, his best friend? But Remus and Peter did prove themselves when they turned the greasy boy’s hair a bright shade of pink for a week. That, Sirius decided, was enough to earn his respect.

The four of them quickly became inseparable, and Sirius decided that being a Lion was worth the consequent Howlers he received, even if meant returning from the Christmas hols with bruises hidden beneath scratchy sweaters.

&--------And the worst: "Blood traitor! Filth! Scum!“

He tried not to cry out as his mother punished him one final time for being an insolent disgrace; he wouldn’t give her the pleasure. He was worse for the wear, however, when she finished with him and sent him off to think about his disobedience. Again. Sirius sat, on the edge of his bed, trembling; it was out of his control. He thought, but it didn’t take long for him to realize what he must do.

He needed to leave.

He hastily threw what belongings he could into his school trunk, gathering up anything he deemed important. He was able to perform a simple expansion and levitation charm - he decided he could deal with the Ministry later - and led his trunk out of his room. But he knew he needed to stop at his brother’s room before he left.

Sirius loved his brother and he has always loved his brother, but Regulus was not like him. He was weak-minded and bent to the wishes of their parents. Sirius always wanted to keep Regulus safe from them, from Mother, but he went to school and was sorted into Gryffindor and it changed. He became the disgrace, and it had been up to Regulus to be the perfect son. Sirius never wanted that for him, and he didn’t want that for him now. So he tried to bring Regulus with him. He wanted to ask, wanted him to leave and escape the hell they had grown up in.

But Regulus didn’t leave with him. He wasn’t like Sirius. He was an idiot, and he didn’t leave. So Sirius goes. But not before he watched as his mother blasted his name from the family tree.

(Sirius will always regret not making Regulus leave with him.)

#abintro #bio #hc&.{the boy with the broken halo}#writing&.{my manic and i}#aesthetic&.{killer queen}#abuse cw

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alasion-art · 5 years

Text

FNaF is a sci-fi time travelling, reality bending adventure.

Thanks to recent releases, it comes with great sorrow in my heart that I have come to realise that the FNaF franchise, is, in fact, a time travelling extravaganza. Here are my illegible notes:

☆☆☆

Oswald ("Into the Pit"), Walter ("The Curse of Dreadbear"), and Henry all mean the same thing "ruler". All old German/Norse.

William means "protector"/"determined". Old german/Norse.

Jeremy and Michael - Both biblical names "May Jehovah exalt," or "Exalted of the Lord"/"Who is like God?"

☆☆☆

Charlie (the Forth Closet Triology) (and possible Michael) is a very high tech robot that should have been impossible to create with the technology found within the 80s; the sister location animatronics are also very high tech. Technology, potentially, taken from the future.

Michael and Jeremy (and, perhaps, Fritz) are seen throughout the entirety of the game, coming up as separate (though possibly the same) entities. Perhaps multiple version of each from separate realities due to Henry and William basically fucking up space time.

Michael is actually Henry's son, rather than William's (he is the child killed within FNaF 4, and is somewhat 'resurrected' in robot form, just as Charlie is in the book series'). Though there are potentially many Michael's hailing from separate realities.

Edit: However, Michael is actually titled "Michael Afton" within the SL game files, the Freddy Files, and his voice actor (also being William's) refers to him as Michael Afton. This obviously would clash with him being Henry's son. So I s2g Henry and William were married. Into the Michael-verse, anybody?

FNaF world - you are able to go through separate layers of reality, and get out of them.

☆☆☆

Fnaf VR: Help Wanted:

Glitchtrap is William Afton, once again going through separate layers of reality (and perhaps, time) in order to once again escape his 'death'; "I always come back".

The Curse of Dreadbear DLC-

Dreadbear is not, in fact, Cassidy ("The Curse of Fredbear") and is, instead, Henry repeating past actions, following William through reality/time in order to stop him (as he has been doing throughout time). Fredbear is usually represented by Henry (though Cassidy is also technically represented by him). Fredbear/Dreadbear walks past the player seemingly docile - he is guarding the gravestones and ignores the player.

Actually, Dreadbear is Michael. In this essay I will- (I will extend on this later).

William potentially also "Willie", 'killed' by "Walter Martenson" (potentially Henry), due to "Gone but not forgiven". He escaped his death, as he does many times (perhaps past, and also future). (Depicted at the footer; image taken from the new DLC)

☆☆☆

Remnant possibly used in time travel, though also potentially for immortality (?). Henry originally may have worked with William for this, though no longer agrees with the practise and believes it must be ended.

☆☆☆

Into the Pit (taking from the preview):

Oswald as Henry ("Into the Pit") - artistic, draws animatronic rabbits/bears/etc without really understanding why. A deep thinker/nervous. Oswald potentially references towards 'Charlotte's Web'; Charlotte being Henry's daughter. Uses heavy description and detailing, to perhaps suggest that he is a deep thinker. He sees every detail.

Jeff and/or Ben and/or Oswald's father (also from "Into the Pit") is potentially metaphorical for William Afton. Jeff very likely to actually BE William Afton.

Jeff: wearing a stained apron (old tomato sauce - could once again be metaphorical for blood) and an unchanging, somewhat uncomfortable expression. His pizza place is considered "creepy"/etc, as well as himself (a zombie/etc). The ball pit in Jeff's pizzeria is the time machine. (His pizzeria is Fazbears Pizza in the future). Described similarly within the "Silver Eyes" as Dave Miller.

Ben: Oswald's best friend, only other person Oswald truly talks to, misses him as he hardly sees him (moved away).

Oswald's father: clashes with Oswald, cristises Oswald/etc.

These characters potentially represent Henry's relationship with William (different attributes of it).

The ball 'pit' in "Into the Pit" is metaphorical for the time machine. Upon entering the ball pit, Oswald seemingly exists within the 80s, when the pizzeria was still under the Fazbear name. Springbonnie (referred to as a "rabbit man"; there is somebody in the suit) is present, as are the original three on stage (so far).

Hints throughout to suggest a bigger picture (Oswald's father claiming that the 'other' movie is better "not like the real one/alternate universe/bootleg/etc".)

Mike is once again seen within "Into the Pit".

☆☆☆

The Fazbear franchise is very aware of the time travelling/etc, and uses the murders as a spectacle while pretending to be embarrassed of such in order to keep attention away from the reality-bending/etc; tapegirl - "They lied. They lied to all of us. They hired the game developer/etc, etc".

☆☆☆

That's all for now. You're welcome.

#fnaf #fnaf world #fnaf henry #fnaf henry emily #fnaf vr #fnaf ar #fnaf ar special delivery #five nights at freddy's #william afton #henry emily #fnaf 1 #fnaf 2 #fnaf 4 #fnaf 3 #springtap #fredbear #dreadbear #michael afton #charlie emily

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freddy-hughes · 4 years

Text

Trials and Tribulations: Judgement

[ Its finally done! Thank you all for reading! Fair warning: It’s WAY long. I hope you all have enjoyed reading this, as much as I enjoyed writing it. @drustvar-dragonfly for mentions throughout the story. ]

[ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ] [ Part 3 ] [ Part 4 ] [ Part 5 ] [ Part 6 ]

White. That’s all he saw around him. A great vastness of blinding white so brilliant it hurt his eyes. Though Freddy was aware he was sitting, it was hard to tell if he was even inhabiting a body. He tried to look for his hands, but instead of calloused hands, willowy fingers greeted him. They were small, childlike, and as Freddy stared at them the blinding whiteness all around him slowly began to morph, and change. The vague outline of a tree formed around him, the whiteness overhead cast in an opaque blue, and Freddy was suddenly aware he was clinging to a tree branch.

“C’mon Fred! It isn’t that high!” He heard a familiar childlike voice call up to him.

“I-I can’t, Lyds!” He heard his own young voice answer. The whiteness all around faded slowly, the colors coming back a little more vividly, and Freddy found himself looking down to the ground below, where Lydia stood. She was a child, perhaps nine summers, face still round with innocence, but fiery red hair wild, and free. “I-it’s too h-high!” He called again, thin arms wrapping tighter around the tree branch he clung to as his eyes clamped shut to try and stop the fearful tears from slipping.

“C’mon Fred! You can do it! C’mon!” Lydia called again, her confidence in him infectious, though he didn’t feel it in his own heart. He peeked an eye open, heart pounding, and slowly looked down below to see Lydia beaming up at him. She wasn’t that far, but to the mind of a child, she might as well have been miles away. With a gulp, Freddy felt his legs begin to move, trying to shimmy themselves towards the lower branch to help ease himself down. It was slow going, met with trepidation, but with overwhelming support coming from below, he felt himself get more, and more confident in his descent.

At the very bottom of his trek, Freddy felt his foot slip, and with a surprised yelp fell to the ground with an unceremonious thump. He felt the tears well anew, cries bubbling in his chest, only to spill out in that overly dramatic way that children have. He wailed, hands pulling into fists to press into his eyes in a vain attempt to stop them. Two hands wrapped softly around his wrists, pulling his hands free. He hiccuped, looking, only to see Lydia’s smiling face. “You see? That wasn’t so bad huh?” She asks, a gentle tease to help quell his racing heart. “Told you that you could do it.”

Before he could answer, Lydia’s child self froze. She still had a smile on her face, and her hand was outstretched to help him up. She didn’t blink, her chest did not rise with breath, she merely stood there suspended in time. Freddy looked to her, confused, blinking, only to feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as rhythmic footfalls broke the silence. The picturesque tree in the valley began to dull, and fade back to white, as the massive Stag stepped around it. It’s huge green eyes inspected the two of them there, never blinking.

Everything around him faded, vanishing like sand in the breeze, leaving only the white void all around. With agonizing slowness, the dust of another memory rematerialized all around him, shifting him to the inside of a familiar home. His father stood in the kitchen, at one end of the dinner table, with his mother on the other. They were frozen for a moment, faces twisted in anger. Freddy remembered this moment, and suddenly became viscerally aware that he was peeking into the kitchen from his bedroom door. With the warbled sound of a gnomish recording being wound until it synced, he watched his parents move with sluggish, stilted movements until they too seemed to align with the recording.

“He’s my son! He will do as I tell him!” His father's harsh voice seethed at his mother.

“He’s my son as well, Emmett! He’s a gentle soul. He isn’t meant to be sequestered in your temples with his nose in a book!”

“And so what?! He will learn to like it!”

“He isn’t some servant you can command around to do your bidding! He is your SON!”

“And what do you think would be better for him, hmm? If you had your way, he’d be some uncivilized savage in the forest eating moss, and berries! Is that what you want for your son? A life on the cold ground in rags as he ‘whispers to the trees’? Not in this house! He’s a Hughes! He’ll be a right noble gentleman! I will not have you filling his head with nonsense like you filled mine when I married you!”

His mother slapped his father. Hard. The sound was resounding, harsh, and punctured the stillness of night like a gunshot. Her face was red, indigent rage smouldering in her green eyes as she stared daggers at his father. Freddy watched in horror as his father returned the seething, rage filled look, only to pay her back with a much heavier hand, sending his mother toppling against the kitchen table.

“He’s a Hughes!” His father spit, wiping at his face, and brushing his dirty blond hair out of his eyes. “He’s MY SON. He will do as I tell him.”

Freddy trembled in the doorway, his small knees clanking together as he felt hot tears slip down his cheeks at the scene before him. His mother slowly rose from the kitchen table, lip split and dribbling blood down her chin. She wiped at it with the back of her hand, but her eyes never ceased glaring daggers at the man she married as he sat at the head of the table. Silence filtered between them, and right as one of them was about to explode again they too froze. Mid stride his mother stood suspended, hand raised to assail his father once more, who sat there with his arms raised defensively.

They did not move, did not breath. The front door slowly pushed open, revealing the face of the Stag beyond the threshold. Like a snake it’s neck slithered through the air, coming around the bend of the house to inspect the two of them where they stood with passive, curious eyes. Freddy followed the trail of it’s massive neck, trying to find the rest of its body, which he found standing outside the kitchen window. Slowly, the Stag’s eyes shifted back to Freddy, and with a blink, the house stuttered, falling in and out of focus like static electricity. It blinked out of existence for a split second, only to return, and distort until a similar, yet different kitchen now sat empty before him.

Freddy was looking inward, from the front porch, watching his mother's back as she cleaned dishes with a light hum. From the side room a man appeared, shirtless, and he meandered with lazy legs up to his mother. He wrapped his arms around Freddy’s mother's waist. Twisting black tattoos in the shape of a bear’s paw rested on the back of his left shoulder blade, and a necklace of bear teeth, and claws wound around his neck. The two spoke quietly, but Freddy couldn’t hear what they said.

The man suddenly turned, and their eyes locked. He was grizzled, his face a shaggy mess of a black beard, but though his eyes were hard they were also curious. The man left his mother's side, and passed the kitchen table. He stood in the doorway, his height massive, and otherworldly to the mind of a child. “So yer Freddy,” He asked, voice rough, and gravely.

Freddy nodded.

“Yer scrawny. That's fine. I’ll fix that.”

“W-what...do-do y-you mean, M-Mister?” Trembling lips responded, confused. Freddy’s large eyes peeked past the man to his mother, who was still dutifully washing dishes, though the hem of her dress had been pulled up, and she looked rather disheveled even to his childlike mind.

“Get yer things, boy. Yer comin’ wit me ta meet tha High Thornspeaker. Gonna see ifin’ I can make a bear outta you yet.” Came the gruff response.

“W-what? N-no, M-mom!”

“Don’t be afraid Freddy, my love. You’ll be okay.” Came his mother's response, though she didn’t look over her shoulder to see him.

A rough hand grabbed his lithe forearm, dealing a hard squeeze that was likely unintentional, but to his innocent mind, Freddy flailed as though being attacked. Hot tears stung at his eyes, as he desperately tried to pry those massive fingers off him. “N-no! I don’t wanna go! You can’t make me! Mom! Mom! Help!”

The man’s hand squeezed harder, the free one rising swiftly to land a hard blow to the back of his head, but before it could land, he hesitated. The dishes clattered softly in the sink, and though Freddy frantically tried to escape, the giant bear of a man held him fast. He was crying, wailing, kicking at the ground to try and pry himself free. However once his mother appeared from around the brute’s shoulder, Freddy stopped. He held his free hand out to her, trying to grab at her skirt, and though his mother pulled him close to embrace him, it wasn’t as inviting as he once remembered. Slowly, those massive fingers let him go, and without hesitation Freddy wrapped his arms around his mother.

Her hands softly ran through his hair, gently quieting him, and with tender motions pulled his head from her dress to look at her. She cupped his face, wiping those tears free.

“Don’t be afraid Freddy. This is exactly what we talked about remember? You’ll be strong, just like I promised. Now, stop your crying, and go get your things. Today is the first step to being the man we’ve always said you’d be, hmm?”

Freddy felt a protest on his tongue, but the look in his mother's eyes stopped him. Instead, he sniffled, and accepted his fate. Slowly, he cast his eyes towards the towering brute, who was watching the two with a strange mixture of confusion, and annoyance in his eyes. With a small nod, Freddy let his mother go, and shuffled back towards the house.

“That's a good lad,” She praised gently, “Get enough clothes for three days, okay? I’ll have a packed lunch for you when you’re done.”

As Freddy went to go towards his room, he looked over his shoulder. His mother was frozen on her tiptoes, a kiss planted on the brute’s cheek. His arm was around her waist, pulling her close, but the two were completely motionless. Behind them, silhouetted by the blinding whiteness, was the Stag. It was inspecting his Mother again, along with the man. Slowly, it leaned its head forward, and touched it’s beak to the man’s shoulder, and like dust they vanished.

The house quaked beneath him, shifting, and sliding like sand through an hourglass. Freddy wobbled atop the floorboards, hands grasping at air, until the house too vanished, and Freddy found himself on his back looking upwards. The whiteness overhead focused into the vast blueness of the sky, peppered with fluffy white clouds, and from his peripheral vision a slender arm reached upwards to point.

“See that one?” The voice asked, a smile laced through the words. “Doesn’t it look like a bunny?”

Freddy squinted, trying to make out the shape, but all he could see in the cloud was a bumble bee. “What are you talkin’ about Lyds?” He teased, chuckling, “That’s a bee.”

“No it isn’t! Come on, look again! See? There’s its body, and those are its ears, and it even has a fluffy tail!” Her fingers traced the outline of the cloud in his field of vision, the two rolled a little closer on their blanket to share the same eyeline. His heart raced in his chest, being this close to her. He was afraid if he tilted his head to look at her, his heart would stop entirely.

“Well what about that one?” He changed topics, his own hand coming up to trace the outline of another cloud. While no longer a child’s arm, there was still youth to his hands. Freddy remembered they were about fifteen summers, give or take. Then again, they did this often throughout their years. “See? Doesn’t that one look like a fox?” He traced the long fluffy tail, up to the back, ending in two little pointed ears.

“It looks like a lump,” She teased, blatantly ignoring his description to gently annoy him.

“Oh come on Lyds, look! It looks just like a fox, I’m telling you.”

“Uh-huh. Is that what foxes look like out there now? All lumpy, and hardly like a fox at all?”

“Now you’re just bein’ mean,” He playfully jabbed.

“Or maybe you just can’t see that what you’re pointin’ at is just a big lump.”

He turned to face her then, a playfully dramatic gasp on his lips as he tried his best to look personally wounded by her words. However, the retort died on his lips the moment they locked eyes. They were so close their shoulders were touching, noses mere inches from one another. Whatever teases they had lined up were quickly forgotten as the air was charged with that familiar youthful tension of a first crush. Freddy felt himself lean in, hesitation palpable in his eyes, as if asking her if this was okay, or seeing if she would stop him, but to his shock she didn’t. Lydia never hesitated. She pressed her lips against his softly, eyes fluttering closed as Freddy just laid there, shocked, and motionless. His heart beat so fast he was sure it was about to burst. She pulled back, not feeling him reciprocate, but before embarrassment could override whatever pushed her to act on their mutual feelings, Freddy kissed her. It was too quick, too jarring, and their teeth clinked together awkwardly. He was so eager to return it that even their foreheads bumped, and the resulting laughter from Lydia was too contagious for him to ignore. They laughed together for a moment, the tension bubbling out in other ways, but as it slowly started to die down, they again found themselves locked in a stare.

They met in the middle this time, a little slower, and the fireworks that blew up in his chest were just as he remembered. A childhood friendship turned crush now culminated into a first kiss that had seared itself into his memory. However, before the memory could fully play itself out, and end with more awkward laughter, a cleaning up of the blanket, and lunch basket, Lydia froze against him. Freddy kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want this one to end. He wanted to bask in the innocence of it, back when they were young, and foolish, and helplessly in love but denying it, only to crash together in that quintessential clumsy way of adolescence.

She still didn’t move.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, and slowly opened his eyes. Right behind Lydia was the piercing eyes of the Stag. It watched him, curiously, and then looked to Lydia, only to turn its head skyward. The lumpy fox cloud was still in the air, frozen. Freddy felt Lydia begin to fade against him. She crumbled like leaves, the memory slipping away, and blowing in the breeze.

Only he and the Stag remained.

“Why do you show me this?” Freddy whispered, tears threatening to fall as he felt his lips tremble. “Why do you torture me?”

The Stag did not answer him. Instead, it looked off in the distance, and when Freddy followed its gaze the man from earlier was sitting across from him. They were sitting around a campfire, eating messily from foraged berries, mushrooms, nuts, and though Freddy had protested, his Teacher had insisted they needed more protein. He caught a snake to cook over the fire as well. They were silent as they ate. Freddy took a moment to just take in his Teacher, to remember him. He had softer lines than before. His childlike mind had distorted certain features from the fear. Thomas was still a massive brute of a man, and just as grizzled as Freddy remembered, but his eyes were a lot kinder now, even as he noisily ate his meal. He hardly wore anything, just a pair of loose pants with a wolf's pelt around his waist held up by a belt, and sturdy leather boots. He was almost always shirtless, Freddy remembered that much, but this time a heavy bear pelt was wrapped around his shoulders. Idly, Freddy pulled his matching one tighter around his shoulders.

“I know you don’t eat meat, boy,” Thomas said lightly, as he finished off his meal, slurping loudly from his water skin. “Sometimes, you’ve gotta make peace wit’ the cycle. If you’re in need, an’ you use every part, then you ain’t done nothin’ disrespectful. Thank tha snake that fed us tanight. Use all tha bits, an’ tha cycle remains intact, an’ honored.”

“I just don’t like hurting animals…” Freddy defended meekly, staring down at the cooked bits of meat on his little wooden plate. “Nothing deserves to suffer that way…”

“You gotta soft heart, boy. Nothin’ wrong with that. Tha forest though,” He gestures around them, “Don’t care if you’re soft, or hard. It’ll kill you, one way or tha other. Jus’ gotta accept that. You ain’t nothin’ ta the forest, an’ it’ll take what it wants, when it wants. It’ll make you suffer, an’ it won’t bat an’ eye at it. So ifin’ you’re starvin’, or you’re dyin’, you gotta do what you have to. So respect tha forest, respect everythin’ you find, but if you have ta kill? Use every bit, and bury the bones. What the forest gives life to, must always return to tha forest. Understand me, boy?”

Freddy sniffled, nodding. With great hesitation, he tries to take a bite of the snake meat. He can’t bring himself to do it, however. It just doesn’t feel right. He had looked away when his Master had caught, killed, and skinned the snake. He didn’t participate in the prayers his Master whispered when burying the bones. Freddy didn’t offer his respect, and thanks to this creature. It didn’t feel right to still eat it. So instead, he set his wooden plate down on the grass before him.

His Master pulled out his worn wooden pipe, and his leather tobacco pouch. With practiced ease he packed the bowl, and with a match strike lit it. He leaned back, relaxing, pulling in a deep inhale. A few smoke rings puffed out, yet as they lazily floated upwards, they too suddenly froze. Freddy sighed, exhausted. He looked around for the Stag, but did not see it. The forest all around did not fade, or shimmer away. It simply stood frozen all around him. “Master?” Freddy tried to ask, but no answer returned to him. Freddy turned to look, only to be greeted by the mesmerizing eyes of the Stag. In its beak was the body of a snake, the same type of snake his master had killed that day. Freddy sat there frozen, looking at the Great One before him. Without thinking, Freddy reached out to try and touch it. Did it have fur, or feathers? He wanted to know. Would it let him? As his fingers got closer, and closer, the snake suddenly came back to life. Its jaws unhinged, body coiled, and suddenly struck. Fangs dug into the meaty side of his hand. Freddy yelped, eyes closing for a moment, only to open, and find himself in a field of tall grasses.

His master was laughing loudly behind him. “Did it get you, boy?” He called through his laughter. Freddy, meanwhile, was trying to dislodge the harmless bullsnake from his hand. As gently as he could, he gripped it by the head, and pried its teeth loose. Still holding it gently by the head, Freddy held it up for his Master to see. “It’s too small, boy. That wouldn’t even feed an owl. Let it go.” With a sigh, Freddy gently tossed the serpent a little ways away from him to avoid another strike.

A heavy, calloused hand gripped his shoulder. Freddy looks up to see his Master looking westward, towards the farmstead they were tasked to inspect today. The inhabitants called upon the Thornspeakers with concerns of strange fungus sprouting on the edge of their farm, and their pigs mysteriously dying, and seemingly rotting over night. Freddy, and Thomas were the two nearest the area, and were quickly dispatched. “Come on, boy. Let’s go.” His master walked a few paces away, only to freeze mid stride. The wind still gently blew, rustling the grass around them, but Thomas stood still as a statue. Freddy walked up to him, curious, but as he was about to reach out to touch his shoulder, the forest all around him began to shift again. Everything that happened next could only be described as poorly remembered. Freddy wasn’t exactly sure what happened in the interim, but just as a scene would phase into existence, it would suddenly change to another section. At one moment, Thomas was talking to the owner of the farm, only to suddenly jump to the pig pen, then morphed into the tree line, only to land on Freddy sitting with the farm owner's pet bunny in his lap. Everything happened in chopped off portions, half sentences poorly remembered, pieces of the forest, or the farm faded into whiteness as Freddy had a hard time recalling it. He remembered the bunny though. A big grey fluffy thing with triangular ears. It was adorable.

“Stay here, boy,” His master called, coming to a squat next to Freddy as his big hand reached out to take his shoulder. “Watch the farm. I’m gonna head down a ways, an’ see what I find.”

“Okay. Did you meet McFluff?” Freddy gestured down to the rabbit in his lap, happily munching on a piece of lettuce the owner of the farm had given Freddy to feed him. His master rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same.

“Aye, I met McFluff. Stay here. I’ll be back.”

“Be safe.”

“Aye, boy. I’ll be safe.”

Freddy watched his master leave. He never came back from that jaunt in the forest. Minutes turned to hours. When dusk hit, Freddy insisted on going to look for his master, but the farmers were adamant it wasn’t safe at night. Night is when the worst of things happened they told him. Freddy couldn’t just leave his master out there, though. In the middle of the night, when the farmers went to sleep, Freddy snuck out. He sent a message through his small communication stone to the nearest pair of Thornspeakers, telling them of his situation, and to come to meet him here at the farm come day break. A terse response came through the stone.

Freddy walked through the forest for what felt like an eternity. The steady rhythm of the Stag behind him kept him moving forward. It was following him, but for what? He wasn’t sure. The forest got darker, and denser the further he went in. The trees grew closer together, their canopies high up above him obscuring the moonlight, and making it nearly impossible to see. He frowned, looking skyward, but only the darkness speckled with faint flashes of the moon greeted him. “I should have stayed at the farm…” Freddy murmured to himself.

He continued to move forward, though Freddy internally willed himself to stop, knowing what was to come. He did everything he could to make his legs cease their forward momentum, but a rustling in the distance piqued his interest. He moved a little faster, Thomas’ name on his lips as he reached the top of the small hill. When he cleared the top, Freddy looked downward, only to see the flat topped heads of the largest mushrooms he had ever seen. They were swaying from side to side, huddled around something. Freddy squinted to try, and see what they were doing, but the dull squelch of something piercing flesh made his blood run cold. “M-master?” He called.

All at once, the Fungarian’s turned to face him. Their crude wooden spears were jutting at haphazard angles from the back of his master, who was there on the grass in a bloodied heap. He was covered in thorns, cuts, and stab wounds. Spores covered his back like a well worn cloak, and the idea of these creatures using his body in such a disrespectful way made Freddy’s blood boil. He didn’t rush forward, as badly as his mind wanted him to. Instead, it turned to run. His feet stumbled down the hill, sending him sprawling, only for him to scramble his way to his feet, and run until he made it back to the farmstead.

Dawn had already broken by this point, if Freddy remembered correctly, but all he could do was watch as his body crashed into the arms of the Thornspeakers who had come to help them. He wept openly, and plainly into the woman's chest. She held him protectively, trying to offer him comfort, and to suss out information from him, which she got through garbled hiccups, and sputtering cries. The two Thornspeakers rushed off to where Freddy had described, but everything slowly faded to white all around him. He couldn’t remember what had happened in the following hours. He could remember the crying, which he felt his body violently rocking with the sobs, but in his mind everything else faded away.

The only thing that pulled him back into sharp focus, was a warm hand on his shoulder. Puffy red eyes turned to look upwards, where he saw the kind face of the woman from before. She squeezed his shoulder gently. “Here,” She said, offering him the bear tooth, and claw necklace Thomas had always worn. Reverently, Freddy took it, and held it in his hands as a new round of sobs took him. He cried, and cried, until he could cry no more, but the hand remained on his shoulder. It didn’t move. With a sniffle, Freddy looked upwards, hoping to see the kindly face of the woman before, but instead was just met with the eyes of the Stag again.

“He didn’t deserve to die like that,” He mumbled weakly, “He didn’t deserve that…” The Stag did not answer him. Instead, it just looked off to his left, and Freddy followed it’s gaze, only to be greeted with the familiar tree line outside Lydia’s, and his home. The sun was high in the air, a soft breeze rustled the trees overhead.

“Goin’ back again today, Fred?” He heard Lydia ask from behind him.

“I know it’s out there, Lyds. I know it is.” His voice answered her. Freddy pleaded with himself to not go, to stay. ‘Stop putting your boots on you idiot! This is the last time you’ll see her! Stop! Stop!’ He screamed at himself, but this was a memory, and he couldn’t change that, no matter how badly he wanted too.

“And I bet you’ll find it,” Lydia said as she sat down behind him on the stoop, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. She kissed his cheek, leaning their heads together. “Just don’t be out too late. I’m makin’ your favorite.”

He smiled at her, hand coming up to grip her wrist, and squeeze softly. “I won’t be out long, promise. Plus, when I get back, I’ll finally have the coin to get you that ring I promised.” His smile was massive, proud, despite the blush on his cheeks.

Lydia just smiled at him in that familiar way he knew so well. “I know you will. Go on, and don’t be late now.”

“Be back before you can even blink! Love ya, Lyds!”

‘Stop! You idiot! Stop! Don’t go into the woods! Stay! Please! Please, Gods damn it! Stay!’ He screamed, but he could only watch himself wave goodbye to Lydia, and trek into the forest. He was never seen again.

The cottage vanished like dust in the wind, and all around him was just the blinding whiteness. Freddy fell to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks as he silently begged for it to somehow materialize before him again. It didn’t. He wept.

The steady beat of the Stags hooves behind him made Freddy flinch, but he did not open his eyes. Instead, he dug his palms into them, trying to stem the flow of tears, but they would not cease. Instead, he just knelt there, with the final good memory he had turning to ash in his mouth. It was gone. He was gone. The idyllic life he had lived, the future he had planned for, the love, and devotion blew away in the wind like leaves. It was all gone, just like that. In the span of just one single day, it all fell through his fingers.

“Why do you show me this?” He asked again, not looking to the god he knew was behind him. “Does my life mean so little? Am I but an actor to you? Will you watch me strut around upon the stage for your entertainment? Am I not worth more than that?! Answer me!” Vile anger laced his words. He broke down into another round of fresh sobs. In the end what would it matter what words he said to the great God of the forest? He was nothing to it.

The Stag did not answer him. Instead, he heard it lower itself to the ground. With hesitation, and once his tears had somewhat abated Freddy looked, only to see the beast starting at him. Slowly, it tilted its head to its back, as if indicating Freddy to climb up. “So you will ferry me to death then?” He asked, arms falling to his sides, a hiccup racking his chest. “So be it.”

Freddy got to his feet, swaying, but steeled himself. With a hesitant step, he approached the great God. It didn’t move. He took another step, and then another. His hands reached out, feeling the coarse fur, but unlike what he thought it didn’t vanish before him. Instead, it was solid, warm, and very much real beneath his palms. Freddy took a breath, readying himself. He cast his eyes to where the cottage once was, “I love ya, Lyds.” He whispered, lip trembling as new tears spilled anew. He climbed up on the back of the Stag, and waited.

“Have mercy on me, Great One,” He asked gently, “Make it gentle...and kind. Please…”

The great beast didn’t speak, only getting to its feet, and meandering forward into the blinding whiteness. As they progressed into the endless void, it slowly began to shift, and change around them. A wash of green all around, a swath of blue above peppered with white clouds. Slowly, the forest came into clearer, and clearer focus. He knew these trees - they were the ones outside Lydia’s grandmother's house.

Deirdre's cottage came into view, as if materializing right before his very eyes. The Stag continued forward, unperturbed by this. Instead, it just walked to the side of the house, where one of the side windows looked inside. Freddy followed it’s gaze, and inside Deirdre was bent over the mask, tapping at it softly with her finger in the same fashion she used to do when he would daydream in her home.

“Fredrick Hughes, is that your voice I hear?” She asked, looking to the wooden mask curiously. “Freddy, if that’s you - and I mean really you - I need you to stay here a little bit longer.” Another tap tap tap to the center of the masks’ forehead. “Fred, you remember our little phrase? The one we chose all those years ago - the one you recite every time you knock at my door so I know it’s you who’s doin’ the knockin’?”

Freddy watched her curiously from atop the Stag’s back. “Gram..?” He called, “Is that…? Is that you?” Freddy watched as Haskell, within the house, jumped up onto the table the mask rested upon, his little black tipped paws tip toeing over the trinkets. The little fox made it over to the crystal ball on its pedestal on the table, and after a little inspection, looked back to Deirdre. “Grams?” Freddy tried again, “Grams...where am I?” Haskell knocked the crystal ball off its pedestal, pushing it with his paws until it made it to the back of the mask. Suddenly Freddy watched as the entire table began to rumble, as if a tiny earthquake had ruptured beneath it. It rattled for a beat, only to go quiet.

Freddy, atop the Stag’s back, felt suddenly light headed. He swayed, head throbbing, as his neck suddenly became too weak to hold his head upright. A loud *WHOMP* of magic erupted around his ears, making them ring, but when Freddy opened his eyes, he found himself looking at Deirdre as if he were sitting on the very table the mask rested upon. “Grams!” He said triumphantly, but she was looking at him with that expectant look she always used to fix him in. “Grams, it’s me. It’s me! Freddy! Why - “ He tried to remember the saying they had come up all those years ago. They had done it to make sure that whoever came to the door, was in fact the person they claimed they were. In that moment, he regretted not setting up the same system with Lydia. “Why do we suffer - suffer the winter’s harsh winds?” He asked, the fragments of that memory fuzzy, and his ringing head trying to grasp at the straws of it long succumbed to haze in this strange place.

“Freddy, my dear, that’s not quite it.” Deirdre retorted, her tone firm, but familiar. Freddy had never wanted to cry out of sheer joy at seeing her, and knowing it was really truly her, and not some cruel machination of the Gods of this place. “I can’t say my part until you get yours right. C’mon now.” She tapped at his forehead again, the same three taps with the tip of her fingernail that was so blissfully familiar Freddy felt a sob choke in his throat. “Focus. If you’re strong enough to reach my old ears from wherever you are, surely you’re strong enough to remember a simple phrase.” While Deirdre was always one to dish out tough love, it had always been done with genuine love beneath it. She had always been fond of Freddy. “One more time, and it needs to be right.”

“It’s hard to focus, Grams,” He says, his tone laden with heavy defeat. “I think it’s finally over.” However, the expectant tone she took with him, and the chance of having one final conversation with someone - anyone - from his former life was not something Freddy was going to give up lightly. If this was the final thing the Stag would show him before ferrying him to eternal sleep, he would make the most of it. “Why,” he groaned in pain, shaking his head to try and dislodge the buzzing in his ears. “Why do we suffer winter's cold breeze?”

“Because it bares aloft next summer’s seeds.” Deirdre responds with a smile. “Very good. See? I knew all that belly achin’ was unnecessary. Always so dramatic, this one.” She tsk-ed, and shook her head, though Freddy couldn’t have been happier to have heard it. “Now then, why don’t you tell me where you are. You’ve been out galavantin’ for long enough, and it’s long past time for you to come home.”

Freddy felt hot fresh tears roll down his cheeks. He couldn’t have asked for a greater mercy than to hear the familiar voice of someone who loved him, raised him, cared for him like her own. He wanted to reach out and hug her, tell her how sorry he was, how he wished he could have come home to have a cup of her tea, and some of her world class mushroom, and potato stew. He took a moment just to look at her, and cherish this sweet gift before it all likely ended for him. “I don’t know where I am, Grams,” He admitted through his tears. “I’m in the forest, I know that much - or at least I was. I don’t know where I am now….but do you remember the old stories we used to read? The ones about the deep forest, and how you could get lost out there for ages, and find yourself somewhere you shouldn’t be? I think I’m there.”

He might as well be honest with Deirdre, if this was the last moment of closure he could give her, and in turn Lydia. If he could give them one single thing, it would at least be the truth, and his unending love for them. “I tried to come home,” He says softly, “But I think I got lost along the way.”

“You’ve been lost for quite some time now, Freddy. I’d say it’s been goin’ on about three years since you left, and sent that thing back in your place.” Deirdre said with a sigh, and Freddy felt the weight of that information crash on him like a rock slide. His chest constricted so tight he was sure his heart would burst, and he felt as though he was suddenly free falling. Three years. He had been wandering for three years. This place had stolen three years from him, from them. Bitter tears rolled down his cheeks as he crashed back to earth with the crushing realization that nothing could survive that much time. He knew he couldn’t.

“Always were a little too curious for your own good,” She murmured, pulling Freddy back from the pit he fell into. “Think back to that day, Freddy. I need you to focus. What do you remember about the day you left? Where did you go? What were you looking for? What did you find? If we can figure out how you got lost, maybe we can work on gettin’ you found.”

Freddy remembered the ‘dreams’ he would have while in this place. He would see himself walking around the forest, digging things up, twisting them, and then burying them again. He’d see himself outside Lydia’s house, attacking Celest, gripping her with hands that were too tight. It had been him in shape, and voice, but it wasn’t him. Freddy felt the reality of that weight even heavier upon his already constricted chest. Something had been there while he had been lost for all those years, torturing them. The Spider had mentioned some kind of wicker doll masquerading as him. He had thought that nothing more than cruel words used to break him. He had been wrong. The Spider had promised him that there was nothing worth going back too, that he was a stone in the ground, and now with the truth laid bare before him, Freddy realized that was likely very much the truth. He couldn’t cry anymore than he already had, there wasn’t anything left in him. All he had was the truth, and he offered it faithfully.

“I was down by the Elsons farm. They were having trouble with their crops. Wanted me to check the earth, and promised me a few coins. I had promised Lydis that ring. Silver, with opals, and emeralds. Remember the one I showed you, from Boralus. I was going to get her that one.” The memory spilled from his lips effortlessly, as if that would somehow explain the current predicament he was in. Perhaps it would give context as to why he left, now to explain how he got here. If only he could remember. “I couldn’t find anything at the house, so I went into the forest to find whatever was corrupting the soil. If it was anywhere, it had to be nearby.” The fragments of the memory were coming to him in jagged pieces, and though Freddy tried frantically to jam them all together, there were too many pieces missing, no matter how badly he tried to focus.

“Didst thou not thinkest to wonder where thy was? Hast thou thought, perhaps, thou hast never truly left that glade?”

The words of the black goat whispered in the back of his mind, and Freddy grasped at them tightly. “I remember. The Horned One showed me. I was chasing down the Coven - or at least a member. She mocked me, and so the chase began. I ran, and ran, and ran. Down by the creek, taking a left, further into the forest. Deeper, and deeper we went. I couldn’t catch up to her, and that's where I found the Glade - untouched, unknown, unchanged by man. Those places so deep you know man hasn’t walked there in centuries. There was a stump, and that’s where I found this mask. It whispered to me. I remember hearing the voice of the Bear, my great guardian, and I went to get it.” He paused, the pieces falling together almost perfectly right there before him. “When I got to the stump, there was magic. I remember the feeling of it - like pins and needles.”

Freddy looked up to Grams as a heavy, weighted pause fell between them. He truly was lost. Led on a wild goose chase, only to be tricked into coming to this Godforsaken place where he was nothing more than a play thing to Gods. It was then that Freddy realized that perhaps there was no point in attempting to save him. Perhaps what the Spider said was right: it was a mercy to be a stone in the forest - to be a place visited until it isn’t anymore. A memory cherished, until it’s slowly forgotten. It was a mercy to forget, a mercy to die. He couldn’t risk either Deirdre, or Lydia in a vain attempt to save him from his own hubris, and stupidity.

“Maybe there isn’t a point in finding me anymore, Grams,” Freddy whispers, looking from his place on the table to the window where the massive eyes of the Stag stared back at him. “Maybe it’s just time….for you to both let me go.”

“If Lydia heard those words comin’ from your mouth, I imagine she would slap it right off your face.” Deirdre reprimanded, disappointment clear in her voice at what he had said. “And I would let her.” She finished, head shaking as she clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth. “You don’t get to do that, Fred my boy. I know you’ve been through it, but there’s people that’ve been here waitin’ for you ever since that day you disappeared - how do you think they’d feel if they knew you just...gave up?”

Freddy had no real way of explaining to Deirdre exactly what he had been through. The trials he had faced were daunting, crushing, and now that he was at the seeming end of it, there was so much of him that just wanted to rest. To close his eyes. To feel peace again. How does one go back to peace after so much chaos has come crashing down upon their head? He didn’t know. However, Deirdre's words did strike something in him. They waited for him? Ever since he left, they had waited. That little flame that had all but nearly flickered out in his heart, remained steadfast. No matter what he faced, Lydia, and Deirdre deserved to see him alive, and back. They had waited, and suffered enough. The least he could do was at least try.

“So, enough of this ‘no point anymore’ nonsense. I’ll have none of it.” Deirdre once again gently scolded as she went to the nearby shelf to pull a large grimoire free. She laid it on the table beside Freddy’s head, and leafed through the pages.

“She would slap me,” Freddy says with the barest hint of a chuckle beneath his voice. “I don’t think my teeth would stay in the same place after.” There was a kind of nostalgic whimsy to his tone, as if remembering the simpler times when Lydia would lightly slap his arm, and laugh. They had always joked about how she ‘abused’ him, which always wound up with another slap to his arm in good jest. The memory was too sweet, too innocent to let slip through his fingers. Freddy felt his heart steel over, whether he wanted it to or not. “I was told to go forward, because I couldn’t go back the way I came. He told me that ivory tusks would attack me - and they did oh they did - and the great Guardian sleeps. He told me to sleep to awaken, and to awaken to sleep.” A pause, the thoughts rolling around in his head, as he tried to jam the square block through the round hole in his head. “Does any of that make sense? Everything used to make sense, but it’s all so confusing now.”

Deirdre was still flipping through the pages in the grimoire. She shook her head idly, “Oh no. No, Freddy. That doesn’t make one lick of sense, I’m afraid.” She kept turning the pages, even as she spoke to him. Page, after page was swiftly turned, the rhythmic sound of the paper almost lulling Freddy into a calm serene, which only made the sudden cease all the more jarring.

“Unless, of course, you’re talkin’ about the world of the Fae.” Her eyes scanned the contents of the page before her, and her shoulder drooped with the weight of the confirmation to her earlier assumption. “I’m not goin’ to lie to you, Freddy, you really stepped in it this time. However, the fact that you’re here, talkin’ to me, is proof that you might just see the end of this yet.” She looked up to him, their eyes locking. “We just need to figure out how to get you awake here. Fully awake. We need to find your body, Freddy, and we need to find it before it’s too late.”

Freddy simply looked up at Deirdre with a mixture of melancholy, and hope. Part of him wanted to be done with this, to fall into both her, and Lydia’s arms, and hug them tightly. He wanted to tell them how much he had missed them, how he had never forgotten about them, and that they were what drove him to keep moving forward, regardless of the trials he faced. However, another part of him just wanted to rest. He wanted them to find peace, to know that the earth had reclaimed him, and this realm of Gods was where his spirit would wander forever. They could move on, and find him waiting for them at that stream, where they could be reunited at the end of long, and happy lives, regardless of his tragic, and sudden disappearance.

“We need to reunite your spirit, which I believe is who I’m talkin’ to right now, with your physical form,” Deirdre said, pulling Freddy from his melancholic thoughts. She clapped the book shut quickly, and set it aside. “If your body is still in that glade, Haskell and I will find it. It is my hope that reuniting this mask, now that the corruption has been driven from it, with your body, will pull you back from the land of the Fae, and you can rejoin ours once more.”

“I just need to know one thing,” Freddy said, his eyes casting a long slow glance around the room he was in. There was no sign of Lydia, and no sign she had been there in a while. Part of him was fearful that whatever had taken his place in reality had harmed her beyond forgiveness. Part of him knew that was likely the case. Lydia and Deirdre were very close, and it was not like the matron to leave Lydia out of information, especially when it came to Freddy during these trying times. “Where’s….where’s Lyds, Gram?” His voice wavered with emotion, as that little flame flickered in his chest, quickly losing it’s fight. “I have to know what’s been happening here, Grams. I have to know what I’m coming back too. I just...I need to know if what the Gods here have told me is true, or if they were just trying to break me.”

Deirdre was already on the move, pulling the strap of a knapsack over her shoulder, and throwing various ingredients, and items inside. “I’ll make ya a deal, Freddy,” She called to him at the table, while Eilit - Deirdre's fawn familiar - nudged the doorway open. The mesmerizing eyes of the stag were there right behind the familiar, watching her curiously. Freddy followed the impossible length of its neck back to its body outside the window nearest him. “I’ll put your mind at ease about the most important things, but that’s all we’re gonna have time for - I need to get down to the glade, and find your body as soon as possible, and every second we spend her yammerin’ is one too many.” Deirdre was busy securing a basket to Eilit’s side, affixing it with a long leather strap around her belly. Once the basket was secure, she went to the table, and gingerly scooped up Freddy’s head. In that moment, he became viscerally aware that he was - in fact - nothing but a mask, with no body attached to it. For a breathless moment, Freddy was airborne, only suspended by wisened fingers, and that terrified him. What had the Stag done to him? Where was his body?

“Lydia is alive, and she’s safe. The house is still standin’, just a little singed, and in need of some sprucin’.” She set Freddy’s head securely in the basket, but that ringing was back, along with the fuzzy feeling in his head. Everything was spinning, flipping, going topsy turvy, and no way to tell which way was up, or down. “I’ll fill in the details when I can sit ya down, and put a hot cup of tea in your hands. C’mon.” She took the reins of Eilit, and took the doe outside the door, but the ringing in Freddy’s ears didn’t stop.

Instead, he felt himself free fall. He grasped at the air desperately, grabbing at nothing to try, and slow him down, only to find purchase on nothing but clouds. He closed his eyes, preparing for the crash back to earth, but it never came. A beat. Another. Freddy opened his eyes. He was back atop the Stag’s back, outside the cottage, and meandering down the forest way was Deirdre, and Eilit. He tried to call out to them, but they did not hear him. They cleared the tree line, and everything around him dissipated once again into nothing.

“Why?” Is all Freddy can ask, though he already knows the great Stag will not answer him. He’s asked the great beast the same question again, and again, and all he was given were memories of the trials he faced in his life, before being brought here. There were good memories in there as well, this is true, but in this moment they served as nothing but salt in the already fresh wounds of his psyche. Freddy felt so tired.

The Stag, as he expected, did not answer, and instead just walked forward with Freddy upon his back. They meandered for a time in the blinding whiteness, the sounds of the previous memories bleeding all around him. Children laughing, Lydia gently teasing him, his parents fighting, his Master dying, his broken cries, and his final farewell to the one woman he loved. They all swirled around him, the ghosts of his past, the memories nearly claimed by this place, until they all went still. The Stag stood motionless, looking around, and the great dense glade where Freddy lay dying at the feet of the boar came into view. It materialized slowly, like a Polaroid picture, until the two were standing there on the island in the center, surrounded by the calm lake.

The Stag got down upon its belly, allowing Freddy to slide off its massive flank, but it’s eyes stood transfixed on the single tree blooming in the center of the island. A flicker of light blinked at the base of the tree, only to grow more intense, until a single beam shot skyward, and an ethereal door of pure white light stood before them. Freddy looked into the great expanse, and then up to the Stag with curious eyes. “So this is it, then.” Freddy asks, motioning to the door. The great Stag shakes its head no.

“Fred, my dear boy, the way is open. The door unlocked. I've done all I can, the rest is up to you..."

Deirdre's voice called through the shimmering door before them, and Freddy looked to it for a long, agonizing moment. The Stag had seen into the very depths of his soul, weighed the length of his character, and brought him back here to make the final choice. Freddy stared into the large white nothingness before him for an unknown amount of time.

The great body of the boar was naught but bones in the water behind him. It had decayed to nothing, and was reclaimed by the moss, and water. Haskell had crumbled as well, the last vestiges of his body now a skull held reverently in his trembling hands. The Stag stood motionless beside him, those mesmerizing eyes watching him curiously, and perhaps a little expectantly. Freddy had seen his life laid bare before the Great Guardian. He had seen himself grow, learn, fall in love, and chase down wickedness that only sought to claim him. Despite the joy at seeing Deirdre again, and getting to hear her voice, Freddy could not help the profound feeling of doubt in his heart.

He did not doubt the love of those on the other side, but his master had always told him that life is an ever moving cycle of change. Nothing remains constant. Did the love he had formed, cherished, and counted on all this time to give him strength change after so much time apart? He didn’t know. Part of him didn’t want to know. In truth, Freddy was terrified of the next few steps that would ferry him to freedom, to reality. If it had changed, what would that mean? Could he move with the change, adapt to it, or would it destroy him? He wanted to believe that it hadn’t, that it couldn’t change. Yet, the Spider had been so insistent that there was nothing worth going back too. The Horned One had promised that his name would be fully written in his book, because the life that Freddy left behind couldn’t possibly still exist on the other side. He was afraid to know. He was afraid to face it.

However, if that was all true, then why did Grams go through such stakes to see him brought back? Why did she try? If there was nothing left for him, why would she bother? Freddy knew the doubt was trying to keep him here, but his legs were shaking as he stared into the white void before him.

“Tell me true now, Grams,” He calls through the void, the voice whispering from the mask in Grams' house. “What am I waking up to, out there? I need to know,”

Emotion chokes his words, his hands growing gaunt in the land of the Fae as his spirit tries to reconnect to his body on its own volition. His feet take him a step closer. Another step, and with agonizing slowness his weight, and strength leave him. Freddy feels his legs shake to support him, feels the life of three years get sucked out of him in one hard pull. He collapses to his knees, and looks to the white doorway with wide, fearful eyes.

“I just gotta know if this was all worth it,” He sounds on the cusp of defeat, like the next words would surely weigh heavy on his decision to cross over, or stay here. “I gotta know if there’s enough of me there that’s worth coming back too…if all of this was enough…”

The Stag kneels beside him, watching as his body withers away to nothing more than a gaunt skeleton wrapped in ragged leathers. It’s head tilts to the right, and then slowly rotates to the left, inspecting him with curious eyes. Freddy looks to the great one, and reaches his skeletal hand outward to run his fingers through the feathers upon its face. It was so soft.

"Freddy..." His name sounded through the doorway with an air of hesitance that she didn't try to hide, and Freddy could hear the way her face scrunched up in a sorrowful wince. "Things have changed since you've been away, I won't lie to you about that. Even a wise old crone like myself can't control the influence of time."

Freddy heard her sigh, but collected her resolve. "But to ask if there's anythin' worth comin' back to - if these trials and tribulations you've been fightin' through have been worth it, all I can say is yes. It's worth it because you are worth it, dear boy. You deserve a life lived freely, to feel the sun shine on your face and the grass at your fingertips. Do not stay in that dark place, surrounded by death and decay - you do not belong there."

A pause, and he could feel her hand squeezing his own like she was truly there in front of him.

"You know this, as well as I."

Freddy looked at the Stag for one final time, his fingers still lightly caressing those soft feathers. Tears slipped silently down his cheeks, and he closed his eyes to try and stop them. Everything had changed, he knew this, but Deirdre was right: there was still a life worth living on the other side.

“Don’t be afraid, Freddy,” He heard his mother whisper.

“You’re a bear now, boy. You face what stands in your way, and you do not back down.” Thomas murmurs on the breeze.

“See? I told you that wasn’t so bad, Freds.” Lydia laughs softly in his ears.

When Freddy opened his eyes again, all he saw was the familiar wood of Deirdre's roof.

#| Trials and Tribulations |#| Haunted Forests & Lost Memories |#| Freddy Hughes |#| my writing |#its finally done #thank the lort #wooo this was a doozie #hope you guys liked it!

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years

Text

Aladdin Queen fic John Deacon x reader chap. 6; Princess Ali meets Prince John

*Author’s note*

Okay this was probably my most FAV. part to write (next to the magic carpet/a whole new world part that’s coming in the next couple of chapters) cause we get to what helped me win Will over as the Genie. So I hope you all watch the video I have linked below to really set the mood for this chapter. And unfortunately this is where I stop for now until I get the next chapter done (which I hope is soon). Thank you all soooo much for being incredibly patient with these updates for this series and I hope you all enjoy the binge reading that I gave you all ;)

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@geek-and-proud

@queendeakyy

@georgesgentlyweepingguitar

__________________________________________________________

Play video

Back in the village as usual the day went on as normal, however things started happening. Pyramids of spices began to crumble down, brass and metals began rattling together in a single beat. From the palace that the three kings plus Paul were sitting around having their tea, their cups and fine china began to rattle.

In the Princes’ bedchambers, John and Brian looked up confused from their maps at the distant rumbling while Roger was woken up from his nap due to the thunderous rumbles.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Roger groaned.

From the village, the palace guards were running through the village entrance telling people to clear out of the way. They gathered on each side of the path because soon appearing was an ensemble of horsemen riding on white stallions.

Behind them an entire ensemble of drummers came out lowly chanting, then the horn players came out and played a fanfare as female dancers dressed like peacocks came out expanding the wings on their dresses and fanning them like real wings. It was then an ensemble of guards came marching out as they began to sing.

*Men ensemble*

Make way for Princess Ali *Female ensemble*

Say hey! It's Princess Ali

Freddie soon stood on a flower based float wearing a sparkling blue outfit that matched his genie color with a purple over coat with golden embedding designs and seams. He sung out to the crowd trying to get them hyped up for the arrival of a special guest that has come to grace them.

*Freddie*

Hey! Clear the way in the old bazaar Hey you! Let us through!

It's a brand new star! Oh come, be the first on your block

To meet her eye!

Make way! Here she comes! Ring bells! Bang the drums! You're gonna love this doll!

Princess Ali! Fabulous she!

Ali Ababwa Show some respect,

Darlings don’t be crude!

Down on one knee Now, try your best to stay calm Brush up your Friday salaam Then come and meet her spectacular coterie

The float evaporated just leaving the dancer but soon coming through the archway entrance to the village, Abu as the elephant came pulling in a camel shaped float which carried in her beautiful garb (y/n) in her disguise as Princess Ali.

Freddie continued to sing up a story that Princess Ali was more than just a woman filled with gifts and looks, she was also a warrior who took on armies of men and took them all down just by herself.

*Freddie*

Princess Ali, mighty is she

Ali Ababwa Strong as ten regular men, definitely! She faced the galloping hordes A hundred bad guys with swords Who sent those goons to their lords?

Why, Princess Ali

Darlings what’s she got?

*Men ensemble*

Seventy-five golden camels

*Freddie*

Woo! Uh-huh Now the ladies, talk to me dears

*Female ensemble*

Purple peacocks, she's got fifty-three *Freddie (spoken)*

(Fabulous darlings, love the feathers)

When it comes to exotic-type mammals Darlings help me out! *Ensemble*

(She's got a zoo, I'm telling you) It's a world-class menagerie

Now dressed in drag, Freddie was dancing with a bunch of female dancers along the balcony. Singing about how Princess Ali’s beauty has been known to even turn some girls into loving her.

Like she was a siren of the sea but with a pure heart of gold. The ensemble continued to march and dance along singing of her greatest possessions and kindness. (Y/n) tossed down some gold to the crowd who immediately went right at it.

Until finally they reached just a few feet from the palace gates, where the royal families and court all stood along the balcony observing the entire show.

*Freddie*

Princess Ali! Beauty is she, Ali Ababwa That physique! How can I not,

Turn for her, that lovely darling! So get on out in that square Adjust your veil and prepare To gawk and grovel and stare at Princess Ali

*Ensemble*

She got 95 white Persian monkeys,

*Freddie*

She’s got the monkeys

A bunch of monkeys *Freddie and (Ensemble)*

(And to view them she charges no fee) (She's generous, so generous) (She's got ten thousand servants and flunkies) (Proud to work for her!) (They bow to her whim love serving her) (They're just lousy with loyalty to Ali!

Princess Ali!

Princess—

“We're waiting for you!” Freddie pointed towards the three Kings who looked at the flamboyant young man with interest but pride that he was asking for permission to continue on. “We're not going until you go!” John’s father slowly raised his hand off the railing.

His friends and everyone in the court looked towards him waiting with anticipation.

“You can do it my darling!”

And with that John’s father gently patted the railing. Accepting their entrance.

“There it is!” Freddie exclaimed as he winked up at John’s father. They continued with their song and dance. At hearing his name, John was both embarrassed and annoyed with this and just had about enough as he walked away back towards his room, leaving Brian and Roger to look at each other.

*All*

Princess Ali, amorous she!

Ali Ababwa *Freddie (ensemble)*

Heard of a hot Prince John Deacon!

Where is he? And that, my dears, is why She got all dolled and dropped by With (sixty elephants, llamas galore) For real dears? (With her bears and lions, a brass band and more) Say what? (With her forty fakirs, her cooks, her bakers) (Her birds that warble on key) *All*

Make way

For Princess Ali!

By the end of it all, confetti shot out from everywhere as the entire village cheered. Freddie looked up at his master grinning widely at her and she smiled down at her genie, mouthing out a thank you to him.

*My POV*

Freddie and I now stood in the throne room. The only people who were in the throne room were some of the guards as well someone who looked vaguely familiar but yet not at the same time.

He had short brown hair and a mustache over his upper lip. His cold eyes stared me down as he carried a snake staff and had a parrot sitting on his shoulder. He looked like he was of high authority but not quite a king or prince. But whatever he was, he definitely gave me an uneasy feeling.

Especially since he also couldn’t stop staring at Freddie.

“Where are they?” I whispered.

“Relax darling.” Whispered Freddie back to me. It was then I saw the three kings walk in with each of their sons by their side. “Okay here they come.” I extended my small cane to them and Freddie whispered. “What are you doing?”

“I—I’m presenting to them.”

“Put your arms down.”

“But I’m presenting—”

“I said put your arms down girl!” he softly hissed.

“We welcome you to our humble home gifted to us by your people Princess Ali.” King Arthur spoke to me.

“Tell him it’s a pleasure to meet them.” Freddie advised me.

“It’s—just as much….a pleasure to—meet such regal men such as yourselves.” I said as I tried my best to curtsy, but I kept wobbling.

“You’re crossing your legs like you’re trying to take a piss. Bend your knees outward, not forward.” He said. I wobbled until I stood up properly back up.

“I’m afraid I’ve never heard of Ababwa.” The mustached man said. Oh shit. Freddie and I looked at each other before we both spoke at the same time.

“It’s North.”

“It’s South.” Oh great, now we’ve done it, quickly think of something (y/n). “It—has both a North…..and a South kingdom.”

“Yeah see if you just keep traveling you’ll—you’ll find it.” Freddie said.

“It’s there, you just have to look for it.” I snapped at him but tried to be discreate about it.

“The world is changing Paul,” Brian’s father spoke up which caused Paul to nod submissively. “Seems there’s a new country every day.” He joked towards his son.

“May I present to you in person, my son Prince John Deacon.” When I saw John, my heart raced once again. I could barely speak and I just seemed to be in a daze.

Finally seeing him like this in his full regal appearance, that was just a bonus. All I could focus on was his beautiful eyes. It felt like the world was fading away, that was until I felt a nudge into my ribs from Freddie as he whispered to me.

“Tell him we have gifts.”

“Gifts!” I exclaimed which echoed through the walls. “I mean….we’ve brought gifts.” Freddie then exclaimed in Arabic and the doors opened and all the servants he had whipped up for me came in carrying everything known to man. “Yes, here we are with gifts. We have spices, golden camels, and spoons tiny spoons. I mean how do they make them that small?”

“Spoons.” A servant that stood by John trying to encourage my spoon gift. He seemed more kinder than Paul, with warm eyes and a kind soul.

“How do they make them that tiny? We have jams!” I exclaimed.

“Jams?” Paul asked skeptically.

“Jams?” his parrot mimics.

“Yes jams. Yam jams, fig jams, and date jams, spicy….delicious, exotic jams.”

“Move. Away. From the jams.” Freddie sneered through his smile.

“We—we also have uhh….”

“Jewels.”

“We have jewels. We have plenty of those. And uhh, and that! Over there. Covered for…..suspense.” I gestured to a cloth hiding something pretty huge. I heard Freddie exhale like he was just done with me.

I cleared my throat for the servants to pull back the cloth revealing some strange wheel or something. I don’t even know what it was but I tried to play it off like I did know.

“Ta-da. It’s uhh…..very expensive and very priceless.” John looked to Roger and Brian who were equally as confused, as was their servant that stood beside them.

“And just what do you hope to buy with this expensive—thing?” asked John as he turned and looked right at me.

“You.” I said.

Allah I wish I could’ve kicked myself at that point. Why must I be so nervous at this point. Everyone was in shock of what I had just said. I treated John like he was a prized chicken at the marketplace. His brows raised up skeptically almost like he didn’t hear me right.

“Wow.” Freddie muttered softly.

“I-I mean a moment with you!” I tried to save myself. Freddie mimicked the silent sounds of an explosion as I tried to stammer out a better explanation when John spoke again.

“Are you suggesting that I am for sale?”

“Of course.” Damnit there I go again. At this point John looked like he was about to raise hell. “Not! No of course not! I-I-I was trying to say……”

“It’s cold. And-and it’s dark in that lamp. But I prefer that to this right now.” Freddie whispered to me.

“Excuse me. I need to go……find some bread.” John said abruptly before turning around and walked away.

“For the jams.” Prince Brian spoke up as he followed behind John.

“Wait, wait I didn’t mean to…..”

“I get that John can make people nervous but maybe next time think before you speak.” Roger said as he looked at me with sympathy before following behind his friends along with the mustached servant.

“Please I didn’t—”

“Just drop it darling, you didn’t do good.” Freddie muttered to me.

“You will get another chance to speak with my son Princess Ali. When you join us for the annual Harvest our Indian allies hold tonight.” John’s father said. As the three kings walked away I said as I awkwardly bowed once more.

“Of course you’re—serene….selves.” But I could see all three of them shake their heads shamefully and embarrassedly then Paul along with the parrot on his shoulder turned and followed behind the three kings.

“Smooth.” I heard the parrot mock me. As we were now along in the throne room, Freddie turned to me and said.

“In 10,000 years. I have never been that embarrassed.”

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freddiesaysalright · 5 years

Text

My Man Part VI

A Ben!Roger Taylor x Reader Fic

Summary: Reader is a Broadway actress currently starring in a West End production of Funny Girl. She’s a widow, thanks to the Vietnam War, but it’s a well-kept secret. She also wants everyone to think she doesn’t care for rock music. She met Roger Taylor when he brought his date backstage. They didn’t start off great, but a party at Freddie’s turned them around. Now, they’re friends. After she was attacked by a director, Roger is there for her. Then she gets a surprise visitor with some wise words for her.

Word Count: 2.6K

Tag List: @bohemian-war @kittygirlno @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @rockyroadthepastryarchy @goodoldfashionedloverboyy @jennyggggrrr @discodeacygotmorerhythm @x1975sos @slytherinxval @cyndagoaway @doingalrightt @lovvliies @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing @capsparrowtara @they-call-me-peaches @hyosong @riddikuluslypotter @orchideax If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

Part VI here we go!!!

You spent the next few days at home, recovering. Roger stayed with you all the time, leaving only for band stuff and to shower and change. You thought about telling him he could bring some things over, but you weren’t sure what kind of message that sent.

It was Roger who told you that you absolutely could not go back to work. You agreed only because there wasn’t enough makeup to cover the bruise around your eye. You also couldn’t bear the thought of performing “You Are Woman, I Am Man.” It made your stomach clench to even think about. You gave Gary the excuse that you were ill, and he bought it.

Three days after your assault, you were relaxing with Roger on your couch. You were reading your old copy of Jane Eyre, while he dozed beside you, his arm draped lazily across your shoulders. You’d always loved Jane Eyre. When times were hard, you read her story again. You told yourself that if she could overcome the things she did, you could overcome the trials of your own life.

As you read, you came across a line that struck your heart in a new way: “I had not intended to love him; the reader knows I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously revived, great and strong! He made me love him without looking at me.”

You stopped. Closing the book, you glanced at Roger. He looked at peace as he slept, even with his head back and mouth slightly agape. You watched his chest rise and fall with each breath and remembered when you first met. He was acting so arrogant and you were so annoyed. Now he was at your side in the most dire situation you’d ever faced. How could this have happened? You, who were so sure you would never love again after losing George, were falling in love with Roger Taylor?

He didn’t even really look the same to you. Before - and perhaps still to others - he was the great Roger Taylor, drummer for Queen and womanizer extraordinaire. Now, he was just Roger, who held you close and punched your agent and slept on a lumpy sofa for you. Roger, who was talented and smart and passionate. Roger, a man you respected. A man you loved.

But what could ever come of it? He was also your best friend. Had his feelings changed? Had they ripened into this exciting and painful extra emotion? You weren’t even sure if you wanted an answer.

A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. Roger shook awake and met your eyes. His sleepy face could have melted all the snow in Siberia. Your heart skipped a beat.

“You wanna get that or should I?” he asked, smirking.

You smiled. “I’ll get it.”

You padded over to the door and peered through the peephole. With a gasp and a cry of delight, you yanked the door open and threw your arms around the visitor.

“Jack!” you cried. “Oh my God!”

He laughed and spun you around. When he put you down, you saw Roger at the door. He looked between you and Jack and frowned.

“Roger,” you said. “This is my brother, Jack. Jack, this is Roger Taylor.”

Roger’s face immediately shifted and he smiled. “Oh, nice to meet you.”

He held out his hand and Jack shook it.

“So it’s true,” he said in almost a whisper.

“What’s true?” you asked.

Jack held up a copy of the issue of In Tune about you and Roger. “You’re doing it with the drummer of Queen!” He pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing the top of your head to mess up your hair as much as possible. “I’ve never been so proud of you!”

Roger looked away, grinning like an idiot.

“Get bent!” you laughed, shoving him off. “He’s just a friend.” You felt like you were lying as you said this. “Come inside, will you?”

Jack followed you into the flat, clapping Roger on the shoulder. Roger closed the door behind you. At last, Jack took in your face.

“You look like shit,” he said, playfully.

“Shut up,” you returned, rolling your eyes. “It doesn’t help that you just ruined my perfectly sloppy ponytail.”

“Did you get into another fight?” he asked.

“I’m sorry - another fight?” Roger interjected.

“She had an eventful youth,” Jack said.

Roger raised his eyebrows at you. You ignored him.

“Jack, what are you even doing here?” you wondered. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled, but it’s such a long trip.”

“Dear Mother and Father sent me after some of their English connections saw the magazine,” he explained, waving it around again. “I’m supposed to set you straight.”

“What does that mean?” Roger asked.

“It usually means she and I get drunk together and then I lie to our parents about it,” Jack told him. “I was kinda iffy about this one but it was a free trip to London, so I thought - what the hell, I wanna see her show anyway.”

“I haven’t been in the show for a couple days,” you said solemnly. “Bruises look especially bad under stage lights.”

“You’re going to have to explain that,” he replied. “Do I have to beat someone up?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I once tackled you to the ground and made you eat dirt.”

“So?” he returned. “I was like twelve.”

“I was twelve,” you corrected. “You were seventeen.”

Roger snorted and you looked smugly at your brother.

“You know what, that’s fair,” Jack admitted. “But I do still need to know what happened to you.”

You looked down. “Just a really shitty director.”

“Did he try to casting couch you?” he wondered.

You could only nod. Jack pulled you close. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” He kissed you on the head. “I love you so much and if I were as strong as you, I’d tackle that asshole to the ground and make him eat dirt.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you clutched his shirt and chuckled. “You’re an idiot and I love you.”

Roger looked at the pair of you incredulously. “You two are giving me emotional whiplash.”

“Sorry, Roger,” you said.

“Oh, are you on a first name basis?” Jack teased, letting you go.

You looked at him and it hit you all of a sudden that you hadn’t called Roger “Mr. Taylor” since Mark’s attack on you. It just came so naturally now.

“It’s a recent development,” Roger said. “I’ve been begging her to stop with the ‘Mr. Taylor’ but she refused.”

“Some habits are hard to unlearn,” Jack said. “But I’m glad she’s opening up.”

The corners of Roger’s mouth turned up, but stopped when he looked at the clock.

“I’ve got to go,” he said, looking at you. “Rehearsal. I’ll come back after, yeah?”

“Please do,” you replied.

He grabbed his things, pressed a kiss to your forehead, and left with a final wave.

“See ya, Roger,” you called.

“Great to meet you!” Jack added as the door closed softly behind Roger.

Jack whipped around and looked expectantly at you.

“What?” you asked, more defensive than you meant to sound.

“You love him,” he said.

“Of course I do, he’s my best friend,” you answered, too quickly.

“You know damn well I meant you’re in love with him,” he said. “Like wanna marry him, fuck his brains out, and have his babies.”

“Jack!”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m wrong.”

You looked deliberately away from him, biting your lip.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “So why aren’t you with him?”

“There’s a lot that goes into answering that,” you began. “You know me. I over-analyze every part of what I’m feeling until I’m ready to explode.”

“Break it down.”

“I still feel guilty about moving on from George.”

“Okay. And?”

“Roger and I are such good friends, I’m worried if I tell him how I feel, he’ll reject me and I’ll lose him.”

“And?”

“I’m still feeling weird about being touched after being groped by that director.”

“And?”

“That’s it,” you said.

“Liar,” he accused.

Glowering at him, you crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s true.”

“There’s something else.”

You groaned.

“Just tell me!” he insisted.

“I’m…” you trailed off, unsure how to word it. “I’m afraid that I...I won’t be able to please him...y’know...in that way.”

“Are you serious?” Jack returned.

“Yes!” you cried. “I’ve been with one person ever in my life, and I was married to him. Roger Taylor has been with - I dunno - every woman in London. And you should see the women he takes out, Jack. They’re head-turningly beautiful women.”

“Well, according to this bullshit magazine, he hasn’t been out with anyone since you eloped,” he said.

“We haven’t eloped,” you said.

“Anyway,” he began. “I should tell you that your sexual prowess probably doesn’t matter to him. And you’re every bit as beautiful as any of the girls he’s dated.”

“You haven’t seen them.”

“I don’t need to. Remember my first trip home from college? I brought back my roommate and he fell in love with you?”

“What?” you returned.

“God, I was so pissed too because I was convinced he was gay. Then we were up late at night talking, and he said you were so beautiful and all this other crap until he fucking cried.”

You giggled. “I’m sorry I ruined that for you.”

“So yeah, you’re pretty, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed.

“And I do think Roger returns your feelings,” he continued. He held up the picture of you on the magazine. “I mean, look at his face here.”

You did. Roger was laughing as he looked at you in the photo. His arm was around your waist to have you near him. His eyes shone like the moon. Your expression was much the same.

“He looked like that every time he looked at you,” Jack said. “That’s how you look at the love of your life.”

Your face fell at those words.

“I know you feel guilty about George,” he said, not needing an explanation. “I loved him too and I know you risked everything for him. But he loved you so much. He’d never want you to stop living your life on his account.”

“I know,” you said.

“And honestly, I think he’d be damn proud of you for getting Roger Taylor,” he joked.

“I kinda think so too!”

You laughed together and for a moment you felt like you were a teenager again. Joking around with your big brother and the whole world ahead of you. You would never have guessed you would end up where you were.

“And as for the physical stuff after being hurt by that director,” he continued, serious now. “That’s just gonna take time. But I have a feeling that whenever you’re ready, Roger’s gonna be there for you.”

“You got all of that just from the way he looks at me?” you asked.

“It says a lot,” he said with a shrug.

“Thanks, Jack,” you replied. “I’m so glad you’re here to listen to my crazy.”

“What are gay big brothers for?”

When Roger returned that evening, you were nursing a glass of wine. You and Jack had killed a bottle while catching up before he returned to his hotel room. Now, you were back to your book. Roger smiled as he entered your living room.

“Hey,” he said. “Your brother clear off?”

“He went to his hotel room,” you said. “But he’s gonna be here for a week at least. He wants to see me in the show before he goes.”

“Are you ready for that?” he wondered, taking a seat.

You draped your legs across his lap. He gave them a gentle pat with his warm hands.

“I think I will be,” you assured him. “Nothing lifts my spirits like being on stage.”

“I admire your resilience,” he said.

You stared at him for a moment while he toyed with the fluff on your socks. You were suddenly overcome with affection for him. You smiled to yourself, and resumed comfortable silence. Roger did eventually get up to pour himself a glass of wine and then switched on the TV. You loved just existing in the same room with him.

That night, you awoke from a deep sleep from the noises in the living room. Thinking Roger had just left the TV on, you got up and headed out to switch it off. When you emerged from your bedroom, you were horrified to see the noises were coming from Roger. He was moaning, covered in sweat, and thrashing on the couch. You recognized this from the nights when George was home from Vietnam. Roger was having a nightmare. A PTSD nightmare.

You flew to his side, calling his name softly so you wouldn’t startle him. You pressed your hand onto his shoulder, and you felt how clammy his skin was. Gently, you rubbed up and down his arm until his movements slowed. He twitched away from you a few times, and you would back off for a moment before trying again.

“Roger,” you said, a little louder now.

His eyes snapped open, and he looked at you. For a split second, he moved away, as if he didn’t recognize you. Clarity swept over him and his hand shot toward you to cling to a bit of your nightgown. His chest heaved with his labored breathing, so you placed your hand over it. You could feel his heart pounding like a jackhammer.

“I’m here, Rog,” you said, cupping his face with your other hand. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

He tried to sit up, but you didn’t let him.

“Easy,” you soothed. “Just rest now, my darling.”

His breathing was still shallow, so you inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.

“Can you do this with me, Rog?” you requested. “Come on, deep breaths.”

He closed his eyes and followed your lead. You kept a hand on his chest to feel his pulse as you settled him. His grip on your clothing relaxed as well.

“Are you alright?” you asked, when he opened his eyes again.

“Yeah...just a stupid dream,” he muttered.

“It looked pretty serious to me,” you said.

“S’nothing,” he insisted.

You didn’t answer and you shifted your body so that you were laying beside him. Without prompting, he buried his face in the crook of your neck as he hooked an arm around your waist. You dragged your nails gently across his back and hummed absentmindedly.

“Sing something for me,” he said.

“What would you like to hear?” you asked.

“Anything,” he told you.

You cleared your throat and began the first song that came to mind.

“Somewhere over rainbow, way up high,” you began.

He pulled his head back and looked so intensely at you, it took your breath away.

“How’d you know?” he wondered.

“What?”

“That’s the song my mum…” he trailed off. “After my dad was...extra rough, I guess. She sang that for us.”

You realized that must have been what he was dreaming. You ached with sympathy.

“You want me to stop?” you offered.

“No,” he said, returning his head to your shoulder. “No, don’t stop.”

“There’s a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby…”

As you sang, you considered everything you discussed with Jack, and realized he was right. What you and Roger had was special. You cared about one another in a way that was deeper than bones. It was your souls that spoke to each other. The only thing left to know was who was going to act on it first.

If happy little bluebirds fly

Beyond the rainbow

Why, oh why can’t I?

#queen #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #ben!roger x reader #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben!roger taylor #ben!roger imagine #roger taylor imagine #queen imagine #queen fanfic #brian may #gwilym lee #john deacon #joe mazzello #freddie mercury #rami malek

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