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slashingdisneypasta · 5 years ago

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Horror Villain Headcanons

Topic: This is an extension of the last Jason Oneshot ^^ The rest of the horror movie villains react to their S/O telling them someone at work asked them out and she thought about saying yes.

Warnings: Seriously bad language in some reactions. Like, disgusting. Also some M rated suggestions

Notes:

I’m feeling like Jason took it extremely well for a Slasher… aha

I’m so sad that our boys Buckman, Drayton and Hoyt don't have gifs!!

~~~

Billy Loomis:

· Well, Billy’s a bit of a hot head… or a lot.

· The guy who asked you out will probably be dead. Most likely.

· And you’ll get the cold shoulder for an hour or two, because man. He’s hurt, that you would consider leaving him for some better life. You’re just like his mother, and this asshole who asked you out is just like Maureen Prescott. In his head, this just legitimises his murderous actions even more and makes him even worse.

· In this scenario, keeping it to yourself would have probably bene better.

· Eventually though, the fog will lift and he’ll remember that he needs you. He’ll come over and wrap his arm around you, nuzzling your face, and threaten you that if you ever do anything like that to him again, or even look in the direction of another man they will be cut down and he will make you watch.

· Boy’s a little bit yandere.

Bubba Sawyer:

· Bubba’s mind flies right over the part where another guy asked you out and sticks to the part here you thought about saying yes. He doesn’t care about this other guy, he doesn’t know him. He cares about his people, and you are his person. He wonders, why would you do that? Why aren’t you totally happy with him and his brothers and grandpa?

· His eyes will get watery, and he’ll just watch you and listen to you holding onto every word that comes out of your mouth until you’re done. Imagine that, for a moment. Telling Bubba, with his big, teary brown eyes (I’m assuming their brown, I can’t tell) that another man asked you on a date and you nearly said yes and left him. Imagine that, and tell me, could you do it???

· Hell no. With his little fidgeting, and his fat bottom lip sticking out, and his whines? No! No! No, no, no, no!

· So, quickly, bundle him up in a hug and tell him you were being silly, and you love him!

(Mayor) Buckman:

· Depends, was it a citizen of pleasant Valley? Or was it a passing stranger? Because if its one of their victims then there won’t be as many long-term consequences like their will be if it were one of his residents. His family.

· See, if you’re dating the mayor, everyone will know. Especially this mayor, because he has a taste for flare and he sure as hell introduces you as his consort every chance he gets. Which means passers by and residents alike are well aware who you are and who you ‘belong to’ (He wouldn’t put it that way, but its clear.).

· If it was a victim, he’ll make a show of their death- even more then usual. If it was a resident, they’ll get a warning and he’ll never entirely trust them again. He’ll always bring it up from then on, too. Embarrassing you, and them. Refers to them as an almost-thief and whatever other nasty insulting name that he feels at the time.

· But either way, he’ll be the same about your part in his heartbreak. Betrayed, but willing to forgive because you’re ‘Just so darn cute!’.

· He will guilt trip you a lot though when its mentioned, but if you’re able to sit him down and talk about it maturely with him, and explain your side of the story, then he’ll calm down and forgive you. ‘It’s forgotten, darlin’. I’m sorry for acting immaturely.’

Carrie White:

· Surprisingly, Carrie doesn’t immediately get upset and act like Bubba did. I mean, of course she feels bad. Its not a nice thing to hear from the person you’re in love with, that they nearly left you for something else! But, she thinks about your side of this as well.

· She guesses, she understands where you came from. It would be easier for you to love someone normal… not like her… It would be nicer for you. She gets it.

· She keeps the wounded look off her face, for your benefit.

· “But… “She’ll say then. And explain her side of this. That she loves you so much, and understands that it would be easier for you and just wants you happy. But she would be really happy herself, if what would make you happy is to be with her.

· It’ll be such a relief for her if you take her hands say that’s the conclusion you came to. One of those adorable, real smiles will grace her face.

Chop Top Sawyer:

· “WhhhaaaaaaaAAaAaaat???”

· “Let me at him! Let! Me! At! HIM! Show me where he’s at, I should- “

· You will need to stop him from storming your place of work with a face on a stick that’s on fire (Bubba balling behind him, because that’s his face!!), fists blazing and bouncing all over the place if you want to explain. Goddamnit, Chop Top’s gotta stand up for himself, and his woman! This will not do??!!

· “Chop Top- Chop! Stop it a second, I- Chooop! I nearly said yes!”

· That make shim halt in place. Only for a second though, before he drops his fists and turns to you in confusion. “Wat?”

· “But… then… I realise, I love you. And I was being stupid, and- well, that’s it. I love you.”

· “Awww, I love you too! That’s okay then!!”

· Prepare yourself, because otherwise the force of Chop’s lung cuddle will send you both crashing into one of Nubbins bone sculptures.

· Chop Top is pretty light hearted about the whole thing XD

Chucky/Charles Lee Ray (We’re assuming he’s human in this. Whether that be in man or woman form. And I’m sorry if I overuse this gif, I just love it XD):

· Some stupid guy asking you out is one thing, but you considering it??? That’s a direct attack on him and will be treated with prejudice.

· “I must not be hearing right these days, doll, because I swear I just heard come out of your pretty little mouth that you considered leaving me for some castrated turd- or, he will be castrated, at least. Stay here.”

· I suggest you stay where you are because if you leave and he comes back to that after killing this to find you gone, he will find you, and he’ll be even more pissed. He’ll take that as an admission that you’re not in love with him anymore, and the situation will be handled much worse.

· When he gets back, he will have the penis of the man who asked you out in a plastic zip lock bag and he’ll give it to you. Then hook a hand around the back of your neck and hold you firmly in place so that he can look down at you darkly and say: “Keep that as a reminder that I take great pleasure in sawing off any limb or body part off a person who tries to steal from me. I want you to be happy, sure, but having you is the point.”

· For the rest of the night he’ll be pretty stiff and stay off to himself instead of hanging with you because, he didn’t say it but his feelings were hurt by this betrayal, but by the time the sun rises the next day he will have gotten over it, comforted by the fact that he has you for better or for worse now.

Drayton Sawyer:

· Drayton takes all this news in one gulp and just kinda… nods, says okay then, and leaves to continue his work. Out of it. Off with the fairies.

· He doesn’t quite know what he could do about that. I mean, it’s good that you love him and you didn’t leave, but the fact that you thought about it still feels terrible. Especially since he doesn’t kill. He feels like he has no way of one upping you, or becoming even. He feels like the weaker part of the relationship, the one that has more to lose. Because clearly, you have options! He has… you.

· He’ll be pretty quiet for the rest of the night and for a while after tat day he’ll act a bit off. Normal, you know. Doing things with you, and talking with you, and just being normal. But he’ll just a be a biiiiit off, because he knows he has so much more to lose, and he hates that feeling.

· Eventually he’ll get over it, and feel better. But this has opened his eyes to that fact and its new to him! I mean, its not nice for anyone. But in his family, they all need each other They all play an equal part and even without that theirs blind loyalty involved. Here, he has to earn it and he suddenly feels very powerless, and in danger of losing you if one day you decide he isn’t enough.

Freddy Krueger:

· Similar to Chucky, he ‘wants you to be happy, but having you is the point’. He’s not above causing you an accident that puts you in a coma, so you stay with him all the time and you don’t have any other choices. Your smile is cute, but being with you trumps it all.

· But this is only the first time, and you’ve told him that you realised you didn’t want that. You want him so his little perverted heart may give out, so he’ll let it go this once. He wont hold onto it and throw it in your face later or even use it to his advantage now.

· He will kill the guy, though. There’s no way he won’t take the opportunity to kill someone.

Jennifer Check:

· “Well fuck you too then, bitch!”

· Yeah… she may need a bit of time to cool down. She is hot. She graces you with her presence. How dare you stab her in the back like this. She thinks all this, and then she thinks that she should kill you. That no fuck buddy should be able to hurt her like this, but after she looks at you and assesses you… she knows she couldn’t.

· But you don’t know that, and she’ll work with that.

· Storming out, she’ll make you think that she’s so mad that she would kill you. Just so you’ll feel the fear for a time, which she’ll prolong as much as possible, going do her nails and toes and then get a delicious, boy flavoured meal as self-care.

· Then, finally she’ll come back, and roll her eyes like she doesn’t know you took it seriously. Like it wasn’t her plan at all. “You really thought I would kill you? Don’t be dumb, come on! Let’s watch a movie- I pick, cuz you’re slutty ass hurt my feelings, k?”

(Sheriff) Hoyt/Charlie Hewitt:

· When he looks at you, slightly squinting like he does when he’s thinking, you think he’s going to kill you. That you never meant much to him and he’s going to turn you into dinner without blinking an eye for your betrayal- because what’s more important to Hewitt’s, then loyalty? Not much.

· Also, Hoyts a twisted, backstabbing traitor himself so that also worries you a bit.

· But then he just leaves the room, attitude in his eyes as he calls for Thomas to lock you away in your room and that he’s going to get dinner.

· For a few stupid hours after that, hidden away in your room without your phone or laptop, you foolishly thing he’s going to withhold dinner from you as punishment.

· But when he brings you in stew with a suspiciously familiar coloured eye as a sloppy garnish, and a tricky, twisted look on his face, you know what your punishment really is.

Michael Myers:

· Ohhh, no.

· Boy’s dead.

· That’s it.

· You get no punishment, but this boy who asked you out is so dead. You just tell him what happened, and then he turns and leaves to get his new job done.

Patrick Bateman:

· It may be smart to tell him at work, so he can’t really flip out… trap him in the confines of social standards.

· It won’t stop him from freaking out on you later, in the safety of your own home, but it will allow you a few more hours of crippling worry- or enough time to leave the country. You know, depending on how you word the whole thing to him.

· A deep breath in through his nose, teeth grit. “I’ll cancel our dinner reservations.” His eyes flicker from yours, to everyone else in the office. He steps closer to you, and whispers. “Go home, don’t you dare eat anything or turn on the TV. Tie yourself up, and wait for me. And don’t let me catch you dressed, fucking whore.”

· See, he’s had to come up with different ways to punish you when he’s mad, seeing as he cares for you. So really kinky, borderline (Sometimes not even borderline.) torturous sex will have to do. You never get to finish. And the rope is not safe, sex shop brand rope.

Pennywise (OG):

· I’m sorry, why should he care that a weak, unimportant mortal man asked you out? Its not like he would ever have succeeded, even if you hadn’t made the right decision and said no. He would have found you and gotten you back, no matter what.

· You are his adorable little human, who he is prepared to fight for -not that that is what would ever happen here. He’s not going to waste energy fighting a mortal man when he can just take you back, easy, - and you will not get away so easily.

· Basically, in this relationship, freewill is a fantasy. You are entirely and utterly owned by him. Like a pet.

Stu Macher:

· “You, what… really??”

· Well, first of all, he would fight this boy. Killing him doesn’t really occur to him, because he likes to keep his romantic life and his murder life separate but he definitely wants to throw a punch or two!

· Second of all, why would you want that!???

· “Do you not like me, anymore?? Babe, baby, come on! What’d I do to deserve that!”

· Honestly, he makes it out like it would have been better if you hadn’t told him. He thinks you’re mad at him and are trying to tell him you have options, by being honest and telling him this. No one has ever claimed he’s the sharpest knife in the drawer.

· You’ll get lots of cuddles and snuggles because he wants you to know how much he loves you. But that’s not really new.

Thomas Hewitt:

· Deep breaths. Watch his chest rise and fall like he’s trying really hard not to get mad, which he is.

· But, mostly, he reacts like Jason. Hears you out, because what else can he do? Luda taught him not to walk away from a person in the middle of a conversation.

· Once you’re done, he thinks. Still with the very deep breaths.

· He thinks how he trusts you, and what you say must be true. But then if you thought about leaving, then something has to be wrong, right?

· As you continue to explain to him, slightly more panickily, that you love him and it was a momentary lapse in judgement that didn’t even really do anything but you’re telling him anyway, because you love him and you want him to trust you, he slowly starts to clam down.

· Eventually, her brings you into a hug to stop your panicking. His breaths have returned to a normal rate, and he vows to try and forget it.

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morbidly-malicious-muffins · 4 years ago

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What Kind of Music Slashers Would Vibe to Headcanons♪

This little thing popped into my head. Fyi, the canon timelines are thrown out the window for this so... Yeah.

Bring forth the bop~

RZ Michael Myers

"Let my weapons be your children, let my armies be your damned. Try to suffer on in silence, try to stop me if you can." --- This Cold Black by Slipknot

I think he'd really enjoy metal in general. I can totally see him unknowingly stomping to some Marilyn Manson and Meshuggah, though the lyrics and message probably will just fly over his head.

He listens to some heavy shit, but probably all the more mainstream bands/artists.

The loudness and organized chaos of the genre fills the void in his soul and reflects the state of his mind, despite his stoic and non-verbal outer demeanor.

Someone please do everyone a favor and introduce Michael to some death metal. Admit it, it really fits his aesthetic.

This is just based on speculation, but I suspect a 70% possibility of RZ Michael resonating with Cannibal Corpse. Fight me.

He hates classical music with a burning passion. Back in Smith's Grove, they played Bach's Air Sul G on tap. (its canon in the first movie lmao) He hates it. Mikey no likey.

Freddy Krueger

"No stop signs, speed limit, nobody's gonna slow me down. Like a wheel, gonna spin it, nobody's gonna mess me around." --- Highway to Hell, by AC/DC

Freddy listens to classic rock, period.

This guy is ngl a supporter of music taste discrimination. You listen to pop? Disgusting. You listen to Jazz? Disgusting. Classic rock is the epitome of all music.

He'll call you music-related slurs you never knew existed.

As stubborn adamant as Freddy is, he does harbor some guilty pleasures, including 70's hair metal and glam rock. Pshh. What a heckin hypocrite.

Some of his all time favorites are Guns N' Roses, Led Zeppelin, Van Halen, and AC/DC.

(Basic bitch)

*Hip thrust movements to go with his 'The Sprinkler' dance moves, Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N' Roses blasting in the background*

OG Michael Myers

He doesn't listen to music, but if he did, he would probably enjoy Jazz.

Michael only listens to Miles Davis because he enjoys his music and can't be bothered to discover more artists.

Oml Michael I know Miles Davis is amazing but don't neglect other iconic artists plzzz. Someone please make him listen to some Teddy Wilson and/or Dave Brubeck.

I imagine him sitting stiff-straight on a rocking chair (he just likes how it moves), knife in his lap, rocking and zoning-out relaxing to 'Blue in Green'. (I love that piece)

#AfterHeFinallyKillsLaurie

#RetirementGoals

He also hates classical music because of the same reason as RZ Myers. Seriously, if either of them so much as hears the opening chord of Air Sul G, expect the speaker to be stomped to a pulp in a split second.

Bubba Sawyer

Alright let's all be honest with ourselves... 70's pop and country is Bubba's shit.

Look me in the face and tell me he wouldn't adore ABBA, The Jackson 5, and Dolly Parton. Thats right you can't

Everytime 'Dancing Queen' starts playing on the radio, Bubba will drop everything and start busting down.

Ain't nothing and nobody stoppin him. Drayton is powerless against the supreme sovereignty that is ABBA.

But let's also appreciate the fact that our Bubster can motherfuckin get down. *wipes sweat from forehead + heart eyes*

He would also do passionate lip sync with his heart and soul, to Dolly Parton's 'I Will Always Love You'.

50% chance of him starting to cry right after he finishes his earnest performance.

*Holding Bubba in your arms, rubbing comforting circles on his back as he bawls hysterically, incoherently babbling on about how much he loves you*

I also feel for some reason he'd really like Joan Jett & The Blackhearts.

Thomas Hewitt

"For one moment, I wish you'd hold your stage, with no feelings at all. Open minded, I'm sure I used to be so free." --- Citizen Erased by Muse

Y'know what I have a hard time imagining the type of music Tommy listens to. Kutos, Mr. Hewitt, you have defeated me.

siKE

(This is where I yeet the timeline out of the window y'all)

Thomas enjoys Muse, Evanescence, and Radiohead. (Fight me)

He just loves how emotional their songs are. He'd have one earbud in as he works away at his projects for hours. The music helps him concentrate, it is also a source of emotional support to him.

Hearing the heart-wretching lyrical content of 'Lost in Paradise' performed so beautifully by Amy Lee's angellic voice is really comforting to him. It's like hearing about another person's experiences. It makes him feel less alone in dealing with his emotional and mental turmoils and burdens.

The first time Thomas heard 'Creep' by Radiohead, he almost cried.

He also listens to My Chemical Romance sometimes. He only knows the Black Parade album, but he loves it. If 'Creep' didn't make him cry, listening to that entire album from top to bottom sure did. He started sobbing half-way through 'Famous Last Words'.

Tommy is emotional boi 🥺

Brahms Heelshire

C l a s s i c a l

No matter how stinky Brahms is, you can't tell me that he's not classy.

Schubert is his bitch. Schubert's style tends to be quite majestic and/or dreamy, (generally) and can change color/sound very abruptly yet appropriately. (This is just my opinion based on experience with Schubert's pieces, but then I only know his piano pieces soo) (let's still cue that maestoso to scherzando transition)

But of course, Schubert isn't the only thing he listens to. He prefers the romantic period, so Mendelssohn, Rachmaninoff, Chopin, Shostakovich, Brahms, Schumann, you get the gist, all the staples. Oh yeah Elgar too. To be a proud English lad.

*Brahms swaying in the living room with the grace of a baby giraffe, engrossed in the beautiful melodies in Schumann's Kinderszenen.*

(Oml please check out 'Von fremden Landern und Manschen' and 'Kind im Einschlummern') (For those who play piano, they aren't that difficult too totally recommend) (Ok sorry I'm done now)

Brahms would totally waltz around alone to Chopin's waltzes and nocturnes.

Oh yeah apart from that classy shit, he likes to jam to meme songs.

"Hey now, you're an all star, get your game on, go play---"

*cut to Brahms passionately fortnite dancing*

Listens to The Strange Man Who Sings About Dead Animals for a good laugh. (Please, all of his songs are gold)

Vincent Sinclair

He'll have 'emo' and 'classical' with a side of metal, thanks.

I headcanon that Vinny McWaxy is an INFJ, so the boy is likely prone to crippling existentialism. It would make sense for some aspects of his music taste to reflect that.

*cut to Vincent sitting rock-still on his workbench/stool, hands hover in mid-air, staring straight ahead, some John Cage piece playing*

You'll never hear this from Vincent but he enjoys sexy-time music. He has this whole erotic playlist he listens to while working. (Boy likes to feel sexy on the job, I respect that.)

I think its pretty much canon that Vinny loves MCR. (Hello fellow emo piece of shit 👋) His favorites are everything by them really. A hardcore fan. He used to have MCR, P!ATD, and 30 Seconds to Mars posters plastered everywhere in his workshop until he had to remove them all to add to the intimidation factor of his waxy hell for passer-bys. For the record, he is very gay for Frank Iero.

On the metal part of his spectrum is mostly classic metal, groove metal, and thrash/heavy metal.

Rammstein, Pantera, Vildhjarta, new and old Metallica, Dream Theatre, Coheed and Cambria. His bitches.

He also uses music to scare victims when bringing them down to his workshop. *cue horror movie soundtracks*

*KI KI KI MA MA MA*

Is a whore for the dramatics when in a good mood.

*Lacrimosa by Mozart plays as he makes a point to bring the wax painfully slowly down toward a drowsy and petrified victim*

A lament for your upcoming death, pitiful human.

Bo Sinclair

"The day has come for all us sinners, if you're not a servant you'll be struck to the ground." -- Beast and The Harlot by Avenged Sevenfold

Bastard boy is into dad-music™. (same)

Dad rock, classic rock, pop punk, punk rock, old school pop, his shit.

He listens to a lot of the same bands as Freddy, but Bo (generally) doesn't discriminate and explores a more diverse variety of music.

Its a fandom canon that Bo loves Avenged Sevenfold. I totally agree.

A7x is the perfect amount of cynical, political, and shred for Beauregard, (I hc that ge hates his full name so plz don't ever call him Beauregard)

He listens to the radio whenever he's at work. Whatever that might be.

Will NEVER admit it, but he thinks Vinny's music taste is dope as hell.

He'll turn off the radio just to strain his ears to listen to Vincent's music downstairs. No one will ever know that though. You don't.

Actually likes classical music too. Its not one of his main genres but there's one piece he really likes, Second Movement of Shostakovich Piano Concerto No. 2 in F Major.

He never thought he'd enjoy this type of music. Its so.... Calm. He discovered that piece from Vinny's playlist. When he first heard it on his brother's speaker, he fell in love. It was one of the extremely rare cases in which he'd be committed enough to ask Vinny the name of the music.

Tiny shuffle for man-kind, huge fuckin step for Bo. Good job Bo, we're proud of you.

Also pleeeeeaaase message me or request stuff, I'm bored and have little inspiration 🦊

I might do a pt2 of this, since I didn't write many of the boys and gals🤷‍♀️

Also sorry if I've neglected some genres/artists (Like i've neglected non-piano classical pieces.... Bc ya girl is just a pianist), a person can't know everything😗

---Zali 🖤

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owl-noire · 4 years ago

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Say Your Prayers: A Reservoir Dogs Fic (1/3)

Fandom: Reservoir Dogs Pairing: None? But like, some. Honestly, this fic isn’t about romance. Summary: It's a few days after their latest heist, and Freddy never showed at the rendezvous. Larry doesn't think much of it--delays happen--until somebody leaves a photograph at the hotel room door. The kid's in trouble. And in their line of work, "trouble" can lead to "dead" very, very fast.

Ao3

They made a narrow escape, but all escapes are narrow when bullets start flying, and considering none of them found their mark, Larry decides it might have been a good day after all. Whatever made Joe decide ripping off a drug lord was worthwhile, he'll never know. Must've been some bad blood between them. And if the blood is sour enough to piss off Joe Cabot, then it's sour enough to piss off the rest of the boys. But hey: job's done, nobody died, and now Larry, Mr. Brown, and Mr. Pink are safely at the rendezvous.

It's an old hotel. Mr. Brown was--and still is--ecstatic about the old-timey elevator with the cage and crank. There's an operator, too. Larry doesn't like thinking about the margin of human error, about how it would take one easy mistake for the cage to plummet, but he pushes it aside. He's calm. Has to be. Next to him, Mr. Pink is a nervous wreck.

"Fuck man," Pink says. "I fuckin' hate elevators. Couldn't we have just taken the stairs?"

Larry gives him a look. "We're on the tenth floor."

"Your point?"

"Hey," Mr. Brown points out. "Look down. You can't even see the floor anymore."

Pink groans and shuts his eyes. "I'm gonna die."

"No you're not," Larry tells him, a little exasperated. Still, the words remind him of a similar time, a while ago now, but with Mr. Orange--Freddy. Larry tries not to think about that day too often. Kid nearly bled to death in his arms, and that sort of thing messes with the head.

The elevator finally pulls up to the tenth floor. Mr. Pink is the first one out as soon as the gate opens, followed by Brown, then Larry. He tips the operator and lingers back a second.

"We're waiting on one more," he says. "He's a scrawny little shit and probably wearing a jacket that's way too big for him." Larry hands the operator another five. "Can't miss him. Make sure he knows where we are."

The operator, some guy in his thirties who looks like he hates his job, nods. "Sure thing."

Larry starts after Mr. Pink and Mr. Brown. He never bothered learning their real names, and they never bothered telling him. They know his, but that's mostly because Larry hates that anonymous crap. But he played along for Joe and they all walked away happy. Better than things usually go.

"I can't believe I have to share a room," Mr. Pink is muttering to himself. He sees Larry walking down the hall and gestures at him. "How come you get one to yourself and I'm stuck with this sack of shit?"

"Oh excuse me, are you the one paying the bill?" Larry shoves past Pink toward his door. "No? Alright then. Quit complaining."

He's already into the room when he hears Pink mumble something under his breath. Larry doesn't really care what he says. He shuts the door behind him and sits on the bed with a groan. He's absolutely exhausted, now that the adrenaline from the job's worn off. And, to make things worse, there's a small knot forming in his stomach. Call it instinct, but he only gets it when something isn't right. Joe would call him paranoid. Freddy, too. But considering neither one of them are here, Larry's left to his own thoughts.

Freddy hadn't shown at the rendezvous. Mr. Brown and Mr. Pink had, both within five minutes of each other. Larry hopes the kid is just late. After all, it was the first job he'd pulled since... well, since the diamonds.

Talk about shock. Larry could still remember how his goddamn heart nearly stopped when Freddy told him the truth, that he was a cop and was supposed to tip off others to the heist, but hadn't. And then he'd taken a bullet meant for Larry, shot by some good samaritan trying to play cowboy.

Larry would be lying if he said he hadn't considered leaving Freddy behind. He'd betrayed him--and that stung. But hell, the kid had saved his life and was bleeding out and goddammit, Larry couldn't. He just couldn't.

But that was months ago. Water under the bridge, though convincing Joe of that had taken every ounce of persuasion Larry could summon. But he had. Somehow, he had, and here they all are. Safe. Happy. Alive.

He sighs and leans back on the bed. He'll give Freddy another couple hours, then see if Joe heard anything. Any luck, the kid's already on his way.

Wherever he is, it's dark. Dark, wet, and cold. All the worst things anybody can imagine after they've just been hit.

Freddy groans and tries to shift into a more comfortable position. He can't see anything, but he can feel. Oh God, he can feel... and it's like somebody's dragged him through a meat grinder. He can hear something dripping. Dimly, he hopes it's water and not blood from... from... well, wherever it is he's bleeding. Because he's definitely bleeding; he just can't figure out why.

It takes him a moment, but he eventually realizes he's sitting. Okay, that's a bit of a nicer statement than reality. Reality is, he's tied to a chair. Ropes dig into his wrists and ankles, and he can already feel the beginnings of burns. He tries to flex his fingers, but the moment he moves them, pain flares and he cries out. The sound is muffled by the gag stuffed in his mouth, but it's there nonetheless. Something's broken. He doesn't know if it's his fingers, hands, or all of the above, but whatever it is, it hurts like a bitch.

"You're awake."

He hears the voice, deep and slow and way too close to his ear. Without much thought, he shies away from it--and only then does he realize he's been blindfolded. His chest constricts.

Blind. Can't move. Can't talk. This isn't good.

"I was wondering when that'd happen," the voice continues. "Thought maybe my boys roughed you up a little too much."

Freddy takes a deep breath, in and out. He needs to stay calm. Staying calm will help him. Staying calm will keep him alive. Staying calm is what Larry would do.

"Me and Joe Cabot go back a long time." The voice is circling him now, vulture-like. "Never thought he'd have the guts to make a move on me. After all..."

Something nudges Freddy's injured hands, and he can't help his scream as white hot agony flares beneath his skin.

"... I always move back."

Once the pain fades, Freddy tries to think. This must be the drug lord he and the guys had ripped off. This must be Big Frank Muller.

Panic threatens to overwhelm him for a moment. He'd heard about Big Frank from his time in the force--and the guy's nothing if not ruthless. Twisted. Tortures and kills for pleasure. Nobody's caught him because none of his victims survive long enough to get an ID. And Freddy's absolutely powerless, completely at his mercy... or lack thereof.

"Let's get down to business," Big Frank says casually, and Freddy's head snaps sideways as a big, meaty fist slams into his jaw. "Gotta make you look pretty for the camera."

Camera? Freddy thinks dizzily, then feels the skin on his cheek split with another punch. What the hell is this guy going on about?

When he can focus again, having lost count of how many hits he took, his face is throbbing and undoubtedly swollen. He hears the click, then winding of a disposable camera, and has maybe two seconds to breathe before Big Frank starts talking.

"Cabot's going to love this," he murmurs. There's a pause, during which Freddy can feel his heart racing, and then: "Dimmick, too."

Freddy's blood goes cold for a split second before he starts struggling. Now? Now he understands. He shouts against the gag, choice words and insults that would make his mother roll over in her grave. But they're useless. The next thing he knows, something hits the back of his head and he begins to lose consciousness again.

Larry, he thinks before he goes under. Stay safe. Please stay safe.

It's roughly around eight pm when Larry wakes up to a knock on his door. He groans and wipes the sleep from his eyes, then checks the phone. There aren't any messages. He frowns and sits up, the knot in his stomach coming back with a vengeance. The front desk is supposed to call him when Freddy shows--and they haven't yet. He doesn't know what that means, if it means anything at all, but he can't help but think something's wrong.

"Goddammit, White, open up!" Mr. Pink's voice sounds muffled through the door as he pounds on it again. There's also something lacing his tone that Larry doesn't like. It sounds too much like raw panic.

That's enough for Larry to fumble into motion. He stands and makes his way over to the door, undoing the deadbolt and wrenching it open in time for Pink to walk through uninvited. His shoulders are bunched with worry, and he's followed quickly by Mr. Brown.

"What the hell's going on?" Larry demands as he shuts the door and refastens the lock.

"Did you hear anybody out in the hall?" Pink asks, nervously wringing his hands together. "Because we didn't, but somebody was definitely there, man. Somebody was definitely fucking there and they left that fucking picture and shit shit shit!"

Larry holds his hands up and grabs Pink's arm to stop him from pacing. "Slow down. What in fuck's name are you talking about?"

Mr. Pink gives him a look that Larry doesn't like, but says nothing. Instead, it's Mr. Brown who speaks as he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a photograph.

"He's talking about this," Brown says distantly.

He hands Larry the picture--slow, as if Larry will chop his hand off if he's not careful. At first, Larry isn't sure what he's seeing--it's dark and his mind doesn't want to believe anything anymore. But then the clouds clear, and his breath hitches painfully.

Freddy. Tied to a chair. Beaten and bloody. Blindfolded and gagged. And the look on his face... the pain on his face...

His hands move on their own accord, and Larry flips the photo over. Scrawled on the back, written in cheap ink and even cheaper handwriting, is today's date, followed by a crude drawing of a clock. It doesn't take him long to get the message, and he feels himself going cold all over.

"This is fucked up, man," Mr. Pink hisses as he starts pacing again. "This is so fucked up." He turns to Mr. Brown. "It's fucked up."

Brown nods in silent agreement. Then he turns toward Larry, who's flipped the picture over again. He can't stop looking at it. He feels Brown's eyes on him, followed by Pink's, and the scrutiny and quiet fear threaten to overwhelm him.

But he regains control. And when he speaks, he's suddenly not Larry Dimmick anymore. He's Mr. White--and his boy's just been stolen.

"Get Joe on the phone. Now."

Listen: I have no self-control.

#reservoir dogs #res dogs #freddy newandyke #mr white #larry dimmick #reservoir dogs fic #fic #my fic #my writing

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meetveronicablack · 4 years ago

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Keep your Lamps trimmed and Burning

Today, I ask all of you to burn a candle. Set the wick on fire and say prayers or whatever you do to connect with God or the universe. Yesterday, the Wright family lost their son. A baby boy lost his father. Siblings lost their brother. Friends lost a friend.

I need you all to find the will and energy to understand the situations at hand. A young man, lost his life at a traffic stop. Daunte Wright was pulled over for having an air freshener dangling from his review mirror. Everyone will argue that he shouldn’t have resisted. Well, let me ask you this: are you going to step out of the car when police officers tell you “you’re under arrest and we’ll tell you when you get out?” How is that professional?

Are you actually going to step out of the car when law enforcement doesn’t give you ANY reason or explanation as to why you are being arrested?! I’m pretty sure you all will say no. I’m pretty sure you all will ask for a reason until it’s “acceptable” but even then. Do you know how many people are placed in jail for crime they didn’t commit? But that’s another point for another day.

A study made by NYC and the Stanford Open Policing Project that black drivers were about 20% were more likely to be stopped than white drivers “relative to their share of the residential population.” It was also discovered that once black drivers were stopped, they were also searched 1.5 to 2 times as often as white drivers.

Numbers never lie. Unless you change them. So you tell me in light of the events of yesterday, how isn’t this a systemic problem?

I come to the conclusion that media will always lie to make the victims look like criminals. I watched a video of Daunte Wright’s mother explaining her experience of when he was pulled over. It was heart breaking to hear his parents talk about the LAST time they saw their son. Mind you, all of this happening during the trial of George Floyd. Do you see the red wound opening up again for the black community?

How can we can sit here and watch these wounds bleed, when we have the power and resources to make change possible. Yes, change and progress take time. But THIS is history. Black HISTORY has always been sidelined so that white history can prevail and be the “prosperous people of the future”.

They didn’t do shit but rape and pillage land. All Europeans SHOULD acknowledge and repair the damage done on history. Do you think anything has changed over the last few generations? No. It hasn’t changed because people, especially white racist people don’t want to take responsibility. They don’t want to acknowledge the past because they’re scared of losing power and not being in control. Racist white folk want to keep on being the powerhouses. And that’s just not it.

It’s all an illusion. White lies. To pretend that history is behind us. Yeah, tell that to Daunte Wright, George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Abrery, Philando Castile, Sandra Bland, Eric Garner, Walter Scott, Michael Brown, Freddie Gray, Tamar Rice, Atatiana Jefferson, Rekia Boyd and the countless others. How many lives could still be breathing today if the system wasn’t against them.

Do you know or understand the deep mistrust with law enforcement and the black community. It wasn’t long ago, during the Jim Crow Laws, towns claimed themselves to be “sundown towns”. This meant that towns could use any means necessary to intimidate and harass black people who stayed in their town after sunset. Most of the time it ended in the death of black civilians. Half these harassments and intimidation tactics were made by white police officers. Killing for sport.

Black lives aren’t animals to be hunted. Yet, that is what history did. There are articles and archives with this documentation. You can look it up or learn about it in Lovecraft Country. So don’t sit here and tell me that racism doesn’t exist.

You have all the tools available for you. Books, documents, archives, movies, music, shows and people’s experiences to tell you about black life in America. So don’t say you didn’t know, because you do, but you choose to see what information is good enough for you.

No, this shit is rough. It’s beyond upsetting. It’s infuriating. It even makes you feel powerless at times. BUT ITS FUCKING IMPORTANT because black lives are at stake. Their lives matter! You use them and abuse them and them kill them without question or thought. White America is nothing but white lies and bloodshed.

America Strived to be the “land of the free” and advertised this to the WHOLE world. This land was never yours. And yet, you expect the rest of the world to bow and kiss your stinky gross white ass feet. No. Don’t get mad because you so called claim to be the all mighty. This is your consequence. People will make it clear how wrong you are, White America.

People aren’t stealing your jobs. You’re lazy and entitled and can’t do absolutely NOTHING for yourself without help. You complain about every foreigner and culture and yet YOU TAKE ASPECTS of all these cultures and say you did it.

Yeah, and what about the Native Americans? What about every population you forced out with diseases and religious conversion? Huh? You still have outcasted indigenous folk. You’ve done absolutely nothing but take from them and black people.

LIARS and MURDERS that’s what history is and it’s people. You can get away with murder and rape. You can storm through the capital without a scratch or bullet. YET all you do is cry like a child when you don’t get your way.

Don’t expect compassion for your sad attempts of understanding. YOU have the resources. DO THE WORK. If it actually fucking matters to you, THEN DO IT. Stop asking your friends in the black community about what to do or how they feel. Pay attention to yourself and make this place better.

As for the Wright Family: I am so very sorry you didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to your son. I am so sorry you had hear your son last words through the phone. I am so sorry that no matter how hard you try to live a happy life, the system continues to be against you.

Your son deserves to be alive. He deserves to be with his son. He deserves joy and happiness and it was taken from him far too quickly. I know that words are never enough to take away your pain. But my heart is with you. My prayers are with you. I will send you all my forces and strength for this difficult time. I will continue to fight for every black life. I will continue to stand against hate. I will make sure people are educated and learn about the racism against black life.

To every black souls lost due racism and violence, may you find ever lasting peace above. 🕊

Links:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sundown_town

https://www.gofundme.com/f/dauntewright

https://www.nyu.edu/about/news-publications/news/2020/may/black-drivers-more-likely-to-be-stopped-by-police.htm

#blacklivesalwaysmatter #blacklivesmatter #justice for daunte #justicegeorgefloyd #justice #black lives are beautiful #justiceforelijahmcclain #racisim #inequality #justicedauntewright #daunte wright #justice for breona taylor #justice for black people #justice for black lives #blm

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izzy-b-hands · 4 years ago

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Rock/Queentober 2020, Oct. 27th: Pact

Assigned lad for this day: John

Synopsis: John/Trans M Reader. Set around 1982 Just Because. Due to an accident, John is temporarily out of commission, and off the stage. What is the band to do?

Well, you can play bass. And you’ve joined them on tour. So actually the answer to that is very easy!

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“You really think you can do it?”

You nodded, despite the part of you that felt you might throw up from nerves.

“Really?” John smiled. “You can back out, you know, one of the techs or Spike could step in too...”

“Hush,” Freddie said. “You’ll give him stage fright! And there’s nothing to be afraid of, the crowd is aware we’ve got someone filling in for Deaky-”

“So they don’t expect too much?” Roger laughed. “Is that what you’re trying to say, to make him feel better?!”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Freddie replied, distressed. “You know that, love, I didn’t mean it that way.”

You nodded. You knew Freddie well enough to know he truly hadn’t meant anything bad by it, but all the same, you really hoped Roger was right and the crowd would have reasonable expectations and would forgive you any mistakes, because you certainly wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself for them.

Hell, you hadn’t ever expected your pact with John, that had been at least partially a joke, to come to fruition. But now he was on day four of a doctor ordered week’s rest after nearly mangling his hand in a car door, and while Spike or one of the bass techs were certainly replacement options, he had remembered your pact, and begged you to keep it.

“You’ll do wonderfully,” John reassured you with a quick kiss as he helped the tech drape his bass over you. “You play well in front of us, so you can play well in front of all of them out there.”

Brian, who was getting suited up as well, gave you a smile. “Take a breath. You’re fine.”

You nodded, and let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

It was only a few minutes more of a wait, John following all of you out to the wings of the stage, giving you one last kiss on the cheek before Roger took his place, the sound of the drums hit your ears, Brian’s guitar followed, and before you and Freddie could jog out-

The entire thing went dark.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Roger’s frustrated screech echoed in the powerless venue, and the crowd laughed. “We’ll have everything back on in a moment, hang on!”

Freddie rolled his eyes, or at least you knew he would be, though you couldn’t make out much of him or anyone else in the dark. “I’m going to go out, help them handle the crowd. John, I know the venue has staff, but do you mind?”

“I’m certainly not letting any of you stay out there without my looking at things,” John replied. “Y/N, you want to come with, help hold a torch so I can take a look at whatever mess they’ve got for an electrical system here?”

You carefully handed his bass off to one of the techs, coming into focus as your eyes adjusted to the dark, and snagged a torch from the stage side equipment crates as you followed John down the halls towards the circuit breaker.

“Do you think it can be fixed?” you asked softly as he got to work, the venue staff stepping aside to let him at it. It was less that they wanted to let him in, it seemed, and more that they could tell there was no point in questioning him or stopping him.

“Most things can be fixed,” John replied. “This...”

He turned to the waiting staff, and scoffed. “You do know breakers aren’t supposed to be fucking melted, yeah?”

The maybe-nineteen-year-old holding his own flickering torch shrugged. “I’m normally on tickets.”

“And tonight you are...” John gave the kid a look.

“I...I’m gonna go back up front and help take tickets,” the kid laughed and walked away.

“On a scale of one to completely baked, how high do you think that poor thing is?” you giggled as you held the torch back up to the breaker box.

“High enough to piss me off,” John grumbled. “This can’t be fixed, not fast enough for the show!”

He slammed shut the breaker box door with his good hand.

“Hey!” you aimed the torch at the floor and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Okay, so we’re going to have some upset fans. But we can figure a way to do another show for them, right? Make an extra date, spend another night here maybe...we’ll work something out.”

“I know that,” John fussed.

“Then what on earth is the problem?” you asked gently, taking his good hand as you walked him back down the hall to the stage, so you could break the bad news together.

“I was excited to see you play for them,” John murmured. “I wasn’t kidding earlier. You were going to do well, and now by the time we end up back here, I’ll be able to play again.”

You nodded. “True. But maybe, if you’d like to see me onstage that much, you might need a break for one song?”

His smile was small, but his grip on your hand tightened and he moved closer to you. “I think I might. And would the famous bass player-”

“Oh hush,” you giggled. “One show does not make fame, and I’m not good enough for that.”

“As I was saying,” John gently bumped into your shoulder. “Would the famous bass player mind if I photographed the performance?”

“You don’t have to do that,” you replied.

“I know,” John said. “But I want to. My suitcase needs a few new pictures of you kept in it, for the tours you can’t be out here with us.”

“I suppose I could allow some photography, if that’s what it’s for,” you said. “Now...ready to break some hearts?”

“No,” he sighed.

“Me neither,” you admitted. “But I don’t know how much longer the boys can stall out there.”

“At least you can all mostly see us now, yes?” Freddie’s voice called out. “Everyone’s eyes have adjusted?”

“We can’t keep them waiting,” you winced.

“If we had to, they could handle it,” John said, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. And he was probably right, but all the same, it felt incredibly cruel to leave Roger, Brian and Freddie up there any longer.

He started to pull you onstage, but you shook your head. “I’ll get my turn. You go out and help break the news, and I’ll be here to help you figure out how to spend the rest of your evening.”

He smiled, and walked onstage to an overwhelming cheer, though he could only have just been visible to the crowd.

You knew they wouldn’t be cheering after he explained the unfortunate situation, but all the same, it warmed your heart to hear the cheers, just for him. Shared cheers were wonderful too of course, but at times, you worried he thought he was easily replaceable.

But that wasn’t the case at all. You knew very well that you or anyone else could play the notes, but you couldn’t bring the magic to them that John did.

There were a few days off now, and by the time the next concert was due, John would be back onstage.

You would have to take some pictures of him, just like he wanted to take of you. Not only for yourself to hang onto, but to show him. To help him see exactly how gorgeous and wonderful he was up there, what a powerhouse he was.

He’d still probably giggle and push off the compliments, but you were going to shower him in them anyway. He deserved them.

#text post #LeeH writes #queen band fic #Lee's Rock/Queentober 2020 #john deacon x reader

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ohtheseboysilove · 5 years ago

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7 seven days in Hell [Roger Taylor x F!Reader]

Words : 1, 100 K +

Summary : Reader have an accident and stay in the coma for seven days. Roger don’t leaves her side during all the week /b>

Note :Thank for the request babe, hope you like it !!!

☀ Masterlist ☀

"Where the fuck his my wife ?" Roger yelled angrily at the poor nurse who had no idea what was going on. "(Y/N) Taylor ! I get a call telling me a car hit her ! Can you fucking answer me ?"

"Roger stop it !" Brian scoffed at him and offered an apologetic smile to the woman, at the edge of the tears after the drummer’s outburst. "Could you please ask a doctor where we can find our friend ?"

She swallowed thickly, nodding ferociously and practically ran away, following by Roger’s burning gaze.

“Fucking useless” Mumbled the blond, his fingers drumming nervously on the hospital counter, his heart beating abnormally fast.

"I know you’re scared Roger but terrorising this young lady won’t help you find (Y/N)” The guitarist pressed a friendly hand on his shoulder. "She’s gonna be okay”

“You don’t know that" Replied weakly Roger, his head bowing under the weight of his worries. "What if it’s really bad Brian ? I can’t live without her" He rubbed his glossy eyes hiding behind his sunglasses as the brunette shook energetically his head.

"She is will be fine, you know her, (Y/N) is strong”

"Mr Taylor ?” The drummer almost jump on the woman wearing a white blouse, a serious expression on his face.

"Yes it’s me ! Please, tell me my wife is okay" He gripped tightly Brian’s forearm, knuckles white under the harsh pressure.

"Your wife had been pretty badly hit by a car earlier this morning, causing a broken ankle and multiple concussions" Roger swallowed every of her words, his chest heavily pumping. "Now, the part which worry me is her head. She bang against the road rather roughly and an internal bleeding it a possibility. We are going to do scanner but she will certainly need an operation"

Roger was pale like a ghost. Internal bleeding. Operation. He didn’t like the sound of these words at all. The rest of the explanations didn’t reach Roger’s ears, his blood was pulsating to loudly to hear anything.

Roger felt like he was waiting for hours, Freddie joined them as soon as Brian called him but John was in holidays with his wife, it was useless to make them worried without any more answers about your health.

"I’m gonna become fucking mad" Grunted the drummer who was outside, smoking cigarette after cigarette, eating alive by his nerves.

“She’s gonna—"

"I swear Brian if you say one more time (Y/N) is gonna be alright, I’m using your mouth as an ashtray" Stated the drummer, his jaw clenched roughly.

"We should go back inside boys" Freddie said before Brian could answer to Roger, both of them tense from the long waiting.

They waited few more hours before fucking finally a nurse called Roger.

"The operation went well but the damage are more important than the doctor initially thought, they had to put her in an artificial coma to let her body rest”

"What ? F— for how long ?” Roger’s fingers were tugging anxiously on his blond locks, it was a nightmare. “Is she gonna be okay ? Can I see her ?”

"We can’t tell, she could wake up in few hours or in few days, nothing is certain" The nurse gave him a nod, motioning him to follow her. "You can see her now, the doctor will come see to give you more information"

The drummer pinched his lips, almost making them bleed as he arrived in front of your room, Freddie and Brian behind him.

"(Y/N), shit baby” The blond was on you side in a second, looking at your asleep frame through his watering eyes. "I’m so sorry baby, I should have drop you off, not letting you walk by yourself" His thumb slowly rubbed your cheek, the one which wasn’t bruised, his body shaking with quiet sobs.

He felt so powerless, watching you laying on this hospital bed, your pretty face covering with cuts and concussions...it made him sick. He couldn’t do anything except wait for you to wake up.

Roger spent the night with you, sleeping on the very uncomfortable chair but he couldn’t physically move from the room. He just couldn’t let you here all alone, no way. Visitor weren’t allowed to stay overnight but it was Roger Taylor and after a tantrum and a ridiculously big cheque to help the renovation of the hospital, he was welcome to stay with you.

In the morning you weren’t still awake and Roger stared the whole day at your face, wishing for the smaller sign of you awaking but nothing happen.

The second day, Freddie went by in the morning, with the biggest bouquet of flowers he could find, trying to cheer up his friend. It was a sweet gesture but pretty useless, Roger was moping around all day, pressing your hands in his own, begging you to wake up.

Brian went check out later that day, bringing some dinner with him for his band mate, knowing very well he certainly didn’t eat anything. He didn’t talk a lot either, responding with nods and grunts but nothing more.

On the third day, Roger’s nails were bloody after too much biting. He couldn’t go out for a smoke, terrified at the idea of you, waking up all alone in the hospital’s room, thinking he wasn’t by your side.

He started talking to you, random facts about things that happened during touring or sometime he was just crying, telling you how much he missed you and how worried he was.

The stupidities on the TV were making him crazy so he switched it off, sinking further in his chair at the horrible silence. The silence was making him even more talking, rambling about anything which could stop the quietness of the room.

On the fourth day, Brian forced Roger to take a shower in the bathroom of your private bedroom, he also brought fresh clothes and Roger’s notes about potential new songs.

“You got plenty of free time in here, use it wisely" If look could kill, Brian would be immediately erased from planet earth.

The guitarist didn’t mean to be nasty, of course not, he just wanted to find something to change his friend’s mind during this hard time.

"Maybe she would like to hear about this cheesy song you were hiding from her last time” Roger’s cheeks went red immediately.

"It’s not cheesy !” He grumbled something but took the papers from Brian’s hands, earning a relieved smile from the brunette.

Later in the evening, after Brian’s departure, Roger read out loud the half song he wrote about you, wishing you could hear him.

The fifth day went more chaotic. Jim and Freddie went by, bringing more presents for your formal hospital room. Freddie claiming that no one would like to wake up in a such depressive room. "I mean, look at theses bright lights darling, absolutely awful ! And these horrible grey curtains ? Make me want to vomit” The singer stayed dramatically as he hanged a heart balloon on your bed.

Roger ate half of sandwich, his hand still glued to yours, making the task not really easy but the couple didn’t even try anything. They knew how stubborn he could be.

"I’m sorry, is this (Y/N) Taylor’s room ?" A man, looking in his early forties was standing awkwardly in the embrace of the door.

Roger just grunted for all answer, getting bad vibes from the weirdo.

“It is,yes. Do you know (Y/N) ? A friend from work maybe ?" Freddie shook his hand and smiled nicely to man. "Oh look Rog, he brought (Y/N) a box of chocolate ! Aren’t he sweet ?" The singer cooed, trying to relax the atmosphere.

"I...I’m not a friend from work" His words caught Roger’s attention, reluctantly taking his gaze away from you to stare at the unknown man. "I’m sorry...it’s me who hit her with my car..." Freddie gasped and Jim closed his eyes for a second, already knowing was coming next. "I just wanted to know if she was okay...I never wanted to hurt her it was an acci—"

Roger slammed him roughly against the wall, his face red and veins popping up on his neck, he was furious.

“Does she look okay for you asshole ? I’m gonna fucking murderer you ! Look what you done to her !" He royally ignored Freddie and Jim’s plaiding, his fingers tightening around the shirt of the man. "Look what you did to my wife ! You could have kill her fucking wanker !" He threw him on the ground and punched him square in the face.

"Roger, it’s enough !” Jim grabbed the drummer by the shoulders to push him away from the man but he was firmly sitting on him, hitting the man roughly. "Roger stop !"

"I don’t even know if she’s gonna wake up ! Because of you and your stupid car !" The blond was yelling furiously but his cheeks were soaking by tears, your sleepy body right on his sight. "It should be you in this fucking bed, not (Y/N) ! She don’t deserve any of that ! I swear if she don’t wa—"

"For god’ sake Roger stop !" Jim finally managed to drag the drummer away, locking them in the bathroom as Freddie checked on the other man. "Listen to me Roger, Listen !" Jim wrapped his arms around him, keeping still the blond who were trying to go back to the man.

"He did that to her Jim ! I— I can’t lose her ! I can’t !" He tried few more times to escape from his embrace but it was weaker, his head falling onto Jim’ shoulder as he cried silently. "I just want her back" He chocked out, Jim’s hand rubbing softly his back.

"I know Roger, I know it’s hard but the violence is not the answer, even if this asshole did deserve the first punch" The blond stifled a weak chuckle and slowly broke the hug, wiping his puffy eyes. "But you can’t do that again, if someone had see you, you could have been ejected from the hospital, Rog. And I’m sure you don’t want that”

The drummer nodded in agreement and winced at his bruised knuckles, you hated when he was involved into a fight. You were usually the one to take care of him after.

"(Y/N) is going to kill me" Roger murmured as he put his hands in the sink, rinsing then with cold water. "I swore to her to stop hurting myself in stupid fights”

"I’m sure she will do an exception for this one” Jim winked at the blond who smiled sadly.

When they went back in the room, the man was gone and Freddie was picking up the mess caused by the fight.

"You’re okay darling ?” Roger shrugged at Freddie’s question and sat back next to you, taking your hand into his, ignoring the throbbing pain in his knuckles.

"I’m sorry for the mess baby, I know you need quietness, not fucking fuss like that” He murmured to you with a deep sigh. He was tired of waiting.

On the sixth day, Brian brought one of his guitar for Roger. The blond knew how much you loved when he played guitar to you, which didn’t happen often as he was usually banging his drums energetically.

His fingers were swollen and hurtful but that didn’t stop him to play random songs you liked, his sad voice echoing through the room.

Roger didn’t notice until your accident how much your were important in his life. He knew he was completely crazy for you, that why he married you but right now...he never felt worse. Life without you was just sad and fucking lonely.

"Please (Y/N), wake up. I need you so much. I’m fucking lost without you" The drummer pressed several light kisses on your hands, not wanting to hurt you. "I didn’t have a real meal since your accident and I know who gonna be mad at me. I showered only once in six days, I didn’t clean the concussions on my fingers and now they are all swollen and fucking hurt. I’m being really dumb without you around. I really need my darling wife back, please baby"

On the seventh day, Roger woke up under soft touches on his hairs, light as a feather. You were awake and a tiny little smile was painted on your bruised face, your eyes still heavy from all the drugs. The drummer was sure it was a dream, too beautiful to be real and honestly, he never wanted to wake up.

"What—" You throat was dry and rough but Roger jumped on his feet at the sound. It wasn’t a dream, you were finally awake. "What happened to— to your fingers Roger ?” You whispered with a painful voice and a slight frown of your brows.

Roger bursted in laugh. You woke up in a fucking hospital bed and the first thing you asked was what wrong with your husband’s hands. Of course. You pouted when his laughs became cries, ugly and loud ones. He sat back and rambled through his sobs, his lips kissing yours a least a thousand times.

"Don’t you ever dare leave me like that (Y/N)" He murmured as his chest going up and down quickly. "I thought you weren’t gonna wake up baby, I thought I lost you"

"I’m here Roger" You weakly replied, trying to process everything that was going on. Seven days of coma was scary, if it had been Roger instead of you in this bed, you would certainly have lost it. "I’m sorry you had to go through that" You gently stroke his wet and burning cheeks with your fingers, his eyes closing under the soft caress.

You never saw Roger looking so vulnerable before, it made your heart sunk.

“I love you (Y/N), so much. These seven days without you have been fucking hell" He opened his big glossy eyes, leaning further into your touch, like a kitten craving for some more rubbing. You slid your hand into his hairs, slowly brushing off the knots from his dirty locks. "I’m sorry I smell, I didn’t shower a lot this week"

"That’s okay, I didn’t either" You joked with a little smile as the drummer shook his head, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Too soon to joke about ?" He nodded timidly and sniffled, the sound compressing your chest. "Come here babe” You tugged onto his neck to bring him closer to you, lips brushing together. Slowly and carefully. "I’m really sorry"

“‘s not your fault (Y/N) but I’m serious, never again. Just stay with me ‘kay?”

"Pinkie promise Rog” You wrapped your little finger with his and both of you giggled at the childish gesture. "Can you do something for me babe ?”

“Everything, tell me” The blond was already half standing, ready to do anything for you. You could him ask to jump naked from the bloody window, he would not even think twice about it before doing it.

“Can you find a first kit aid ? I really need to clean your swollen knuckles, it driving me crazy” You blushed a little under Roger’s incredulous gaze but shrugged anyway.

"Jesus fucking Christ woman, you’re unbelievable. Every time you open your mouth, I keep falling harder for you"

You chuckled stupidly at his words and the drummer imitated you before pressing a warm kiss on your nose, promising to be back quickly.

#roger taylor x reader #ben hardy!roger x reader

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smugzayn · 5 years ago

Text

Finn Shelby - Peaky Blinders

Finn Shelby let the door shut behind him; today was not a day for school.

He plucked the cigarette tin from his suit pocket, tapped it twice against his open palm, a move he had practiced meticulously in the mirror, and then lit one after resting it loosely between his lips. It was nowhere as smooth, thoughtless, or routine as his older brother, Tommy, but it was a respectable imitation.

The smoke warmed his lungs.

The streets of South Heath were busy this morning. Packed with factory workers, bustling housewives, and shopkeepers, Finn knew there were too many familiar faces to stay hidden. So, as was his habit, Finn disappeared. Stuffing his peaky hat into his back pocket, keeping his chin down, he swung lightly onto the back of a carriage and headed North.

There were things to do this afternoon, but the morning was his. So, as he did most mornings he skipped school and headed to the cinema. Finn had seen almost every Western and Adventure film that had come to the small, run-down cinema in Small Heath. Unlike the loud chaos of his home, he could come to the almost always empty cinema and expect, quiet, calm, and peace. South Heath was far from perfect, but Finn thought this cinema came pretty close.

“Oi!” Finn hollered, bouncing off the back of the carriage and jogging to follow Isiah Jesus as he walked into the cinema. “Wait up, lad!”

“Thought I might catch you here,” Isiah grinned as both boys walked through the doors and past the ticketer who greeted them with a knowing nod. “Wednesday’s are bad for schooling, right?”

Finn laughed and they found seats in the middle of the mostly empty theatre. An early Wednesday picture didn’t exactly draw in a large crowd. Plus, most people in Small Heath couldn’t afford to see a picture, especially not if it meant missing work. Isiah offered Finn a bag of popcorn he had snatched from some poor bloke’s hand as they walked in mid-showing of “Robin Hood.”

Finn didn’t always skip school, just most days he could get away with it. Ada had made a rotten habit of walking him to the school doors ever since two years ago when they made it compulsory through age 14. Thankfully, his 15th birthday was 2 months away. He wasn’t sure that was going to stop Ada, she had all these rotten communist ideas about education in her head, but he would make sure to raise a loud argument about it.

Lately, Freddie Thorne had been his new favourite person, despite what he knew his brothers would think, it meant Ada was around much less frequent in the mornings. Finn still left in time for school every morning, just in case Ada tumbled back in, but without her there as a watchdog, there was little reason to stay past morning attendance.

Isiah elbowed him, pulling a flask out from inside his suit with a cheeky grin. He took a quick swig and passed it over to Finn who did the same. It burned down his throat, and he forced himself to swallow. Isiah, the preacher’s son, somehow got his hands on more alcohol than Finn could ever get away. Sometimes Finn thought Tommy marked the quantities on his liquor glasses just to make sure Finn wasn’t sneaking any behind his back. Or he had second-sight, which wouldn’t surprise him either.

Finn shoved the flask back to Isiah as a body fell suddenly into the seat next to him. He was jostled forward as a heavy arm wrapped around his shoulders and flicked the cap off his head to the floor.

“Impolite to be wearing caps in here. Ain’t you Peaky boys have any manners?”

Finn groaned. Small Heath wasn’t big enough for all the Shelby boys.

“John,” he sighed, pulling his brother’s arm off his shoulder and plucking his cap off the ground. “What do you want?”

“Finn Shelby!” a high-pitched voice roared from the back of the cinema, sending the youngest boy’s head into his hands.

Small Heath wasn’t big enough for his sister either.

“You bloody told her?” Finn accused, elbowing his brother in the gut which only resulted in a throaty laugh. It was only yesterday that Finn had let slip to Arthur that he often skipped school for the cinema. That brother was loud in more ways than one.

“Think I had any choice? Goin’ about the house screaming like a banshee about all your school books under your bed and promisin’ to ring your neck. Wouldn’t shut up about fuckin’ Marx all the way here.”

Finn gaped at him. John blew up places, smashed people’s faces in with his bare knuckles, and had seen more men die, many by his own hands, then Finn could process. However, the huffing mad woman now standing at the end of the aisle with her hands thrown angrily on her hips was demanding things and his brother was powerless to it. What hope did Finn have?

“I can’t believe you told her.”

“You better be getting right up out of that chair.” Ada had one finger pointed dangerously at him, her eyes glowing in irritation. “If you think I won’t drag you back to school by your ear, then you’re dead wrong, Finn Shelby.”

Finn groaned, throwing his head back in irritation. “Ada, c’mon, I’m too old for this. I’m a head taller than you!”

“Well, then,” she searched for an answer, knowing he wasn’t too old but might very well be too big for her anymore. She missed the Finn from the war. The innocent boy who chased after horses, or stayed overnight in the camps, and was no more trouble than chasing down after dark because he was playing too late with his mates. Then the boys came back. Suddenly, he couldn’t be fussed to bother with Ada or Polly or their mindings. Now, he was chasing after his brothers, disappearing for days, or blaming every ill-behaviour on behalf of the Peaky Blinders.

Ada nodded her head decidedly, “Then I’ll have John do it.”

Finn turned on John, who looked amusingly at Ada, but her gaze remained firm, resolute. John cleared his throat and shrugged.

“Jesus Christ,” Finn cursed, slapping his cap on his head and roughly pushing himself from his seat to storm down the aisle towards his sister. “I can’t have one day?”

“You’ve not stayed past attendance for the last ten. I talked to Mr. Johnson, y’know. Said you slip out the back everytime he turns around. Might have Thomas put a bell on ya,” Ada threatened, taking quick steps to keep up with Finn’s angry strides as he stormed down the aisle.

“Mr. Johnson told you?” Finn threw open the cinema doors.

“Oi!” Ada caught up with him, tugging on his arm and forcing him to slow down. “I’m a Shelby too, you know!”

Finn thought if she wasn’t then he probably wouldn’t have to bother with school much anymore.

[ii]

Finn had spent the rest of the day unhappily staring out the classroom window. Any other student would have gotten their hands caned until they swelled. Finn was lucky in that way; the headmaster wouldn’t dare lay a hand on a Shelby.

After school, Finn had met his mates down to the cut to play cards, betting all the change in his trousers until he could buy a new tin of cigarettes from the tobacconist. Finn had a habit for hustling until he doubled the changed in his pocket - his gypsy curse. It meant he had enough to pay off the tobacconist to sell it to him and enough to buy a fresh tin every other day. He stubbed one out on the brick outside before he shouldered open the door on Watery Lane.

His aunt Polly was just setting down a hot roast on the table.

“What a surprise,” she clipped, lifting the lid and bathing in a wisp of steam. “I thought I might have to call the coppers to receive your body from the cut.”

Finn rolled his eyes, shrugging off his coat and hooking it on the wall. “Just with the boys, Pol.”

“Yes, until your pockets were turned out, I’m sure,” she added ruefully.

A firm hand grabbed Finn’s shoulder until he was pulled roughly into a chair next to Arthur. “Leave the boy alone, Polly,” Arthur pulled him into his side, mussing his hair, sniffing in the heavy stench of cigarette smoke. “Boys a Shelby, alright.”

“That he is,” Polly tsked regretfully.

Finn shoved Arthur away, pulling a plate towards him and cutting into the meat and potatoes. During the war it was only bread, lard, and potatoes. Now, since the boys had come back, it was meat every night and sweets from the cornershop whenever Finn could convince Arthur or Tommy to spare a shilling.

“I’ve also heard you haven’t been to school since last Tuesday.”

Finn gaped at her with a mouth full of food, “Ada’s reporting to you? Is nothing kept secret in this family?” He slammed his fork angrily on the table, and shot Arthur in angry glare. He had the decency to look guilty. “Shouldn’t Ada just be worryin’ about her own self? Seems she’s got enough trouble of her own without worrying about- ”

“What’s going on with our Ada?” Arthur interjected, confused.

Polly ignored him. Pausing to calmly bite into a forkful of potatoes. “Finn, you are to go to school every day.”

“Why?” Finn demanded, standing up from his chair, “It’s no good. Just filling me mind with nonsense I don’t need. I’d rather be-”

“Off in the fields, or the stables, or hustling boys out of their earnings by the cut? The gypsy in you might be strong, but believe me that my boot is harder, boy.”

“I’ll be fifteen in two months anyway, Pol. No sense in -”

The door slammed open at the point, the short, solid shadow of his brother Thomas lingered in the doorway before shrugging off his coat and coming to sit down at the head of the table.

Finn stood standing, huffing, and trying to keep from taking his dinner plate and thrashing it against the wall. John was nearly off at war at Finn’s age, Tommy was thieving horses at the races, and Arthur was beating up coppers by the cut. His brothers were laying the groundwork for the Shelby Family business and the Peaky Blinders, so why didn’t Finn have the right to at least contribute to it? Instead, Finn was stuck in a schoolhouse, practicing arithmetic, and reciting poetry. He should be helping his brothers, joining the family business, and becoming the man that his brothers were becoming at his age. Not being a schoolboy.

“What’s this noise about?” Tommy asked, pouring himself a glass of scotch and eyeing Finn. Somehow Tommy’s stare had the ability to make Finn feel like a little kid again. As if he was being scolded for knicking sweets or letting the fire go out. “Sit down, Finn.”

Polly turned toward the infuriated boy. Raising an eyebrow at him expectantly.

“C’mon, Finn. Take a seat now,” Arthur whispered, pulling him gently on the shoulder until he sat back down. “There’s a lad.”

The fire popped in the dimly lit kitchen. The warm, cosy room feeling like a box to Finn. He missed the open field of the camp. The stars, and fresh air, and away from the all-seeing eyes of his family.

“Ada’s been making me go to school, Tommy. I’m nearly fifteen, and then it will no longer be compulsory.” He turned his gaze towards the table as Tommy’s blue, stoic eyes watched him carefully. “And I don’t think I should have to go, but Polly and Ada-”

“Are making you?”

“Yeah,” Finn nodded his head, looking up towards his brother. “Ada threatened to drag me back by my bloody ear this morning.”

Arthur hid a chuckle with a gruff cough.

“Good,” Tommy said, sipping slowly on his scotch. “You’ll start going to school -”

“But-,” Finn interjected excitedly.

“Every day, Finn. No exceptions.” Tommy set his elbows on the table, leaning forward and pointing a finger at Finn. “And if you don’t, I’ll know. Then, when you get back home after messing about in the fields, or the tracks, or the cut, then I will thrash you, and the next day, I will walk you back to school.” He leaned back, creaking the chair, and bringing a cigarette up to his lips to inhale slowly. “You understand, Finn?”

Finn grew up tough. He trucked with the Birmingham boys, and fought in the schoolyard, and had grown up under the watchful eyes and heavy hands of his aunt Pol. One too many times he has wandered in just in time for dinner and Polly, wooden spoon in hand, had walloped him good and hard for disappearing for hours. So, when one of his brothers promised a beating, then Finn knew too well how happy he would be to avoid it.

“Yes, Tommy. I understand.”

[masterlist]

[pt. two]

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #finn shelby #tommy shelby #bbc #i've fudged with ages slightly for any of those dedicated to the programme #series 5 is never being released #i will forever be stuck reading fics

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hoopdiddies · 5 years ago

Text

Rashes (J. D imagine)

A/N: I've added a few touches since I got carried away by the fluff @deakysgurl! Thanks for the request! I hope it's good enough.

14 +49. Road accidents + when they're injured

Warnings: Just mentions of a road accident and some rashes and a bucket load of fluff

Word count : 2k+

Xx Masterlist xX

Here you are, out in the terrace enjoying an egg sandwich in the middle of a heavy, evening downpour– something you ought to question yourself later on. After popping what's left of the sandwich in your mouth, you dust your hands together and make your way back into your room, coming to hear five frantic knocks echo from the front door.

Who could that be in this hour?

"Y/N! Y/N!"

"Please open up! It's us!"

The familiarity of those calls gets you rushing down the steps leading to the door and you hurriedly grapple the knob, swinging the door open to the lads dripping wet from running from the other side of the road in the misty storm with their arms draped around John who appears to be in an utterly bad shape.

"Boys! What happened? Thought you were doing a gig," You assist them in settling John down on one of the couches, paying no mind to the wet mess their soaked clothes are leaving on the tiled floor– and certainly on the couch.

You immediately go by John's side and kneel to check what went wrong. Nothing afflicting his head, that's swell considering the dangers that would have caused him although he's got his forearm and leg wrapped in dressings, hinting that they might have taken him to a hospital to get treated prior to parking at yours.

"He's got nasty road rashes– one running from the side of his left forearm down to the point of his elbow and the other from his knee down to the middle of his leg." Replies Brian who's got his arms crossed at the unfortunate events.

"What happened out there?"

"Motorbike accident. Right after the gig, he rode downtown on one of the sound engineers' bikes to fetch a few parts to fix two of his amps," he kneels down beside you and you tell Freddie and Roger to fetch the first aid kit from one of the cupboards, feeling John's temperature rise with your hand on his moist forehead– he's getting a fever from the rain.

"And?" You get up and settle down beside John, wiping his face free of sweat, combing his damp hair back to calm him down.

"A sudden halt. A man ran recklessly down the pedestrian and caused James to swerve. "

"Bastard," You mutter irritatingly and ask John how he's feeling. So far he's only shaken his head which gives away the obvious. Freddie and Roger return promptly with the kit, a damp cloth and a glass of lukewarm water to ease some heat into John's shivering body.

"Deaky, you'll be fine." Freddie coaxes softly in his ear to alleviate him of his current uneasiness, accidentally nudging his afflicted arm and earning a quick grunt from John. You tell the boys to dry themselves in the bathroom while you take care of him from there.

Some time later after letting him take an antipyretic to reduce his fever and mopping the slippery floor, John insists that the boys go ahead as they have a hectic studio session to push through tomorrow. You've assured them that you'll take care of him and they leave him under your unrelenting watch to which, of course, John cocks a slick eyebrow at in amusement.

Since he's feeling quite under the weather, you'll have to conjure up an activity to keep yourselves entertained through the evening deluge as the night is barely young and neither of you can sleep.

"Want to watch a film?" You crouch carefully between his legs, your elbows propped up on either of his thighs.

"And a cup of tea too, love." He smiles and you rise up to kiss him chastely before heading to the kitchen heat up the kettle.

Halfway through having it whistle, a clap of thunder followed by a power outage seizes all your chances of going through a movie night and you hear John scream briefly from the living room at the sudden spread of darkness.

He's always been that jumpy– and it cracks you up in the slightest.

The kettle whistles and you grab a lamp from under the sink to light up your space as you make John a cup, figuring it would be a hassle if you'd include one for you.

Speed walking to the living room with the lit lamp and his cup in your hands, you worry that he might've jerked his leg and disturbed the wound, rushing to him hastily and panting upon stepping foot into the space.

"John, are you okay? Are you hurt?" Lifting up the lamp to shed some light on him, you find him hugging a throw pillow with his head down, nodding.

He's so vulnerable like this and his position just craves for your hold. A tender smile forms on your lips as you position the lamp next to the couch and the cup on the coffee table within arm's reach.

"I didn't startle you with my fiendish screech, did I?" He looks up at you bashfully through his fluttering lashes, the light spilling from the lamp emphasizing the build of his nose and the refined curves of his lips.

Albeit a little frightened, his soft features outstands the weak shadows cast by them against the low light; giving him a delicate yet fascinatingly heartwarming image that just thaws your heart from the bottom up.

You shake your head and take the space next to him crossing your legs and weaving your fingers with his, brushing your lips over his knuckles. "Nothing's ever fiendish with you, Deaks."

He turns his head to you and smiles back, his lips pressed firm together almost in a pout. "Hmm, thank you for taking care of me. I'm sorry that I had to come home like this. We would've had an easier night, you and me. Don't worry though, a few days and I'll be able to get back out there."

"I'm sure you will and don't be sorry, the important thing is that you're home to spend this gloomy, powerless night with. Besides," you shift in your space and turn your body towards him, the distance between your faces sealing, "despite your rashes, I could use some body heat."

As tempted as you are to do some things with him that don't involve making him scream out bloody murder at the nudge of his dressed rashes, the corner of his lips rise and he shifts closer to you, planting a long kiss on your lips. You giggle into it as he begins chewing on your bottom lip and tugging playfully on it, his hands creeping their way to the back of your neck to draw you in deeper.

"Mmm, John- baby, not tonight. You're badly hurt and with a growing fever." You remind him as you pull away but not far enough to not feel his hot breath fan against your lips.

"You said you needed some body heat."

Your throw your head back in a giggle. "Not in that manner, silly. I'd love to but I don't wanna add to your injuries."

He pouts and his eyes narrow to lazy slits, sighing in defeat. "You're the best kind of medicine for me."

You cock a brow at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, lover boy. We could go for a quick round but for now," you rest your head carefully on his lap and gaze up at him from that angle, his eyes gleaming in a pale glow against the low light as he peers down at you, his hand tangling itself in your hair, "why don't you sing us a little song to lighten the mood?"

Knowing very well that doing so was never his strong suit, he gives you an implying look yet you softly encourage him to go for it– with you being the only one who's going to enjoy the first-hand privilege. You know he can sing, he just doesn't have the confidence to push it out of him. His talking voice is already soothing, how much more if it were his singing voice?

"Y/N, come on. You know I can't-"

"John."

"But I have a fever, as you said."

"You do but you sound fine. When did an injury ever stop you from playing bass?" And you're definitely referring to the time he stuck his hand through a glass window drunk and had to get a few stitches afterwards. He stares down at you as he contemplates on it, drawing a deep breath in to start.

"Tonight the darkness seems so deep and silent stars watch as we sleep. The drifter cross the sky, never stop to wonder why," he has his eyes shut during the first line but as he goes on, his eyes open to you in awe at the sound of him finally singing.

"Million eyes could never weep, she lies dreaming like a child. Here beside me all the while. She'll just dream away, until the break of day and gently wake me with a smile." The touch of his warm palm against your cheek as he loses himself in your eyes as he sings sends you up high in cloud nine. Here you are, hearing his mellifluous singing cut through the sound of the harsh storm, unable to believe that this man is actually yours.

"She makes me laugh. She makes me cry. She brings down and takes me high. She fills my life and makes it real. No matter what she does, she makes me feel." And you are his. The air hangs thin between you both as he swallows upon finishing, just anticipating for your reaction. "Y/N?"

With no words to describe what he's made you feel all over again with his singing, you lift your head up to meet his lips and hook your arms around his neck to haul him in deeper. His skin flushed against yours feels heated, literally and it could be from his high body temperature. He whimpers into your mouth and shuts his eyes as he adjusts himself gingerly to feel you better while avoiding grazing his afflicted arm and leg against a surface.

You break away slowly with barely any breaths slowed down, his smile further radiating as he caresses your cheek lovingly through the temporary darkness enveloping you. "You make me feel."

"God, John... I love you so much."

"I love you too, Y/N."

"And I promise, the mark of your singing will remain sacred in this house." You put your hand up as a sign of swearing and he chuckles softly, brushing his thumb delicately over your cheek. "I honestly sound better when I'm looking at you. You really are my best medicine."

With his attention firmly set on you for the night, there's no way in the world he's going to touch the now cooling tea on the coffee table.

#queen #borhap #john deacon #john deacon x reader #john deacon imagine

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cr-scribbles · 5 years ago

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Hello! Welcome to my first Children Rekindled review? I don't know what you would call this exactly because it's just me screaming. I'm considering on doing this for every chapter that comes out, but due to how long the chapters are, it might take two or more posts to get to the end of this chapter. If you haven't read the comic, go read it here > http://children-rekindled.top/?c=1&p=1 This comic is a reboot of the original so I might mention that one a bit, but I promise there won't be bad spoilers. Let's get started!

Before I get into this, lemme just say that Bon does such a good job with the art?? Like the entire group working on this did so well!! I was really impressed about how it turned out caUSE HOLY HECK

oH IT THEM I love the entire bit of scenery in this panel? The colors work really well together and after a while of not seeing these kiddos actually ok, it's nice to see them all just chilling at Freddy's..alone? Charlie is an epic gaymer and no one can tell me otherwise. SHE'S STILL THE SMALLEST AND THAT MAKES ME SOB

IT'S MY FAVORITE BOYYYY Their dynamic already shown makes me scream?? I love them both sO MUCH!! Imagine being such an epic gaymer that you sweat after playing some game my younger self could relate-

IM STILL SOBBING OVER THESE REDESIGNS?? Michael actually being interested in the animatronics makes this even better too! It makes more sense as well cause since they are older, why else would they be there? Before, they were just kids who thought the animatronics were real. Now Michael just brings them along cause he loves this sort of stuff!

Daniel ily so much u silly babey Francis is such a meanie, but he's so loveable! I just,,the most recent chapter made me wanna die for him.

This is why a lot of my incorrect quotes with Daniel has jokes?? I love the thought of him just being this boyo that tries his best to make others laugh and when it works, he's so proud of himself!! Ship content right there- Also Michael rambling about animatronics is the cutest thing! He's so happy with this and it just makes me uwu sm,,hE ALSO DOES BASKETBALL?? AND SO DOES DANIEL AND FRANCIS??

wAIT NO IM NOT READY

GO AWAYYYY I love this panel though?? Just the group and this creepy heck?? The colors make the entire thing look so great, bUT I HATE WHAT THIS MEANSSS

Have you guys never learned?? Have your parents never taught you not to follow strange bunny men? smh such bad parents At least Francis is being the reasonable person here, but it's sad really. Even being the reasonable person, he can't stop anything.

The panel just with the entire group makes me so happy aa I love them??

"My mouth's a tomb!" hAHA GET IT CAUSE HE HECKIEING DI- 💥 🔫

DON'T TOUCH MY BABEY BOY I knew this was gonna happen eventually, but honestly I get how Daniel just wanted to leave- that heck locking the door just made the entire thing feel off.

guys I'm going on a trip to save Daniel. anyone who wants to join me can just jump into the truck of the car because I'm going right now bye- MICHAEL'S FACE JUST HURTS SO MUCH When that heck pulled out a knife, they all knew what was going on and honestly that hurt me the most?? Like Michael is probably in such conflicting pain at the moment because he was the one that dragged them along into this.

Alternative AU where Daniel actually closes his eyes and William is like 'wait shit- I can't do anything now' Poor boyo seems to terrified to even do so- I mean this heck has a knife?? Who would close their eyes when someone is around with a knife???

NOOOO I like how bon did this panel, bUT NO NO I HATE THIS PLS STOP HURTING MY BOY I- iIt all goes downhill from here guys

Going through this entire page is painful First we have the reaction of the group which just hits hard!! How Michael turns away once Daniel gets stabbed already hurts enough. He can't escape the loud screaming of pain coming from his dying friend. Charlie also covers her eyes, but it's the same for that too. Francis being there just shocked about what is going on in front of him hITS HARD. The two are watching, completely powerless. They have to see their friend just heckieing die and couldn't do a thing. It must hurt Bianca a lot especially considering that the two seem to be rather close friends?? Seeing Daniel just slowly get weaker as his screaming of pain stops to show that he's finally dead really hurts? It already made the entire thing painful in the original, but in this it's just worse because once he stops, you really know he's gone. I wonder how the others feel when hearing that. The sinking feeling of denial and guilt in their stomach ESPECIALLY MICHAEL would just hurt.

please don't just yeet the boyo onto the floor- Bianca is a mess and this heck is like 'wow look at that!! I just killed your friend! Moving on-'

We all just want to hug Bianca here. If you don't then you're wrong. She looks like she’s just in so much denial. The Afterwound AU and Soul-Linked AU hurt due to this and I want that show. Both have it so they had seen each other die, but suddenly they are all ok? At least in the Soul-Linked AU they are for a bit- aus are so much fun, but let's get back to this.

There goes another one! what a shocking surprise! In the original (if you didn't read it), she just got her throat slit due to a guitar string, but now she got heckieing electrocuted. I wonder which is worse?? At least now she doesn't have a talking problem, but always shaking is horrible. I need to ask Bon more about how she feels, but for now I'm just gonna suffer

yet again, the reaction between these three makes me sob aLSO FRANCIS WHAT ARE U DOING

Francis is the logical one another, but going up against a weird bunny man that's taller than you and has a knife is awful already. Is he able to survive and get out of there alive with the rest? Haha what a stupid question-

More to unpack here! To begin, Francis trembling in the first panel just shows that even the bravest boyo around tHAT IS TRYING TO DEFEND HIS FRIENDS, is realizing that he can't even do that. How could he face someone who just killed two of his friends? Someone who was clever enough to lead them to this room where they are trapped and unable to run? Then when he got stabbed, for one, that must hurt like hell! And also he wasn't even able to do much to save them apart from telling them to run! He didn't even get a hit in before William was just like "time to murder u" "I hope you'll see your friends again soon, dear." HECK U WILLIAM THEY NEVER DESERVED ANY OF THIS PLS-

Third one down! Michael looks so terrified and honestly I feel the same way- I will make a part 2 eventually, but for now I will summarize how this are so far. aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA what will happen to Michael and Charlie? find out next time on 'im gonna cry and sob for the next 24 hours and more oh god why did I do this'

#Children Rekindled #Review 1 #Daniel #Bianca #Francis #Charlie #Michael #Bon's art #fnaf #fnaf au #fnaf comic #gore warning!!#there is a lot of death in this comic so be ready

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jessahmewren · 5 years ago

Text

“Some Day, One Day” / Queen / Bohemian Rhapsody Fan Fiction

A lovely anon asked for “Freddie falling from the stairs (or the stage) during a concert like in 1984 in Hanover, but this time it's Freddie from 70s and he is hurt more badly and everyone (boys, crew, roadies, crowd etc) is worried and scared. And Brian, when he is holding the unconscious Freddie, realized that he loves him more than just like a brother.“ and THIS is what I came up with :).

Thank you so much for trusting me with your vision, dear. I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Brian's missing the one thing he's had all along...someone to share his life with. Or, it takes Freddie becoming injured to make Brian realize he could never live without him.

Pairing: Brian May/Freddie Mercury

Rating: T for Tame but Teasing

Word Count: 2159

Also on AO3

-0-0-0-

The rain was coming down in sheets, one of those storms that was known to blow in off the North Sea and just settle over a village until it had emptied its belly and moved on.

Brian drove on, the wipers doing double time against the onslaught as he crept along the highway. Freddie sat in the passenger seat, or rather reclined, one foot propped delicately on the dash as he sang scales.

Roger was in the second row seat, answering him in a higher range.

“Bugger off, the both of you,” John groused. “You’re gonna blow your voices before we even get there.”

Freddie smiled, smirking back at the young man. “Why don’t you join us darling? Oh, that’s right. You can’t sing,” he said playfully.

John frowned. “I’d rather do one thing really well than a lot of things only better than average,” he spat back.

Roger giggled, taunting Freddie with an “oooooh,” as Freddie opened his mouth to say more, when Brian slapped the steering wheel in frustration. “That’s enough!” he exclaimed. Driving the van in the storm had his nerves on edge, and coupled with his mates’ arguing he felt like he was losing his mind.

The three boys grew quiet, waiting on Brian to say something. “It’s been a long drive,” he said tiredly, the slosh of the windshield wipers nearly drowning out his voice. “We’re all wired and we’ve still got to the show to do. Let’s just get to the club and have a pint so we can put on a bloody good show. Alright?”

Affirmative murmurs came from all members, and everyone grew quiet…until Deaky threw a guitar pick into Freddie’s hair.

Freddie rounded on him, all giggles. “Wanker!”

“Bitch!” Deaky shot back.

“Oh God, the biggest,” Freddie said with a smile, and just like that they were all laughing, even Brian.

---

They arrived at the club a few hours before the show, which was ideal for the band. Everyone was still a bit rankled from the drive, and energy was high for the upcoming performance. Some pints would do them good.

They made their way to the bar and ordered a few. Roger went off to talk to some girls he’d noticed, and after a few drinks, John decided to go ahead and set up on the club’s small stage. Brian smiled as he walked off, bass in hand. They boys may get into arguments sometimes, but they always made up.

By then the storm had cleared, and the sun was stunning as it flashed brightly before sinking beneath the horizon. Brian could see it just beyond the window of the club. It had been a five hour drive up to this part of England, and the day was nearly gone.

Freddie eased up beside him, his tan face warmed even further in the orange light. “Let’s go outside…sit on the patio,” he said suddenly. “Just me and you left now.”

Brian smiled, following his friend outside to the club’s small outdoor seating area. The chairs were still wet from the storm, so they brushed them off and sat at the little tables where they could watch the sun slip low while sipping their beers.

A little thought occurred to Brian, then went away just as quickly. This is nice. How nice would it be to have someone to do this with all the time? He pushed the thought down deep into the depths of his mind. He didn’t need anyone like that. He had his mates, and that was enough.

Freddie was looking at him curiously, the bottle halfway to his mouth. “What’s on your mind darling?”

Brian smiled. Freddie was his best friend…had been for as long as he could remember. He was so lucky to have him. He should be ashamed of wanting more for himself.

Freddie’s warm eyes sought his, now slightly concerned.

“Nothing Fred. Just thinking about tonight,” Brian lied.

Freddie smiled, looking off into the rapidly descending sun briefly before meeting Brian’s gaze. “It’s going to be fantastic darling! I’ve got our wardrobe, of course! Even Deaky will love it.” He gave Brian a devilish wink, and something warm stirred in Brian’s belly.

“You shouldn’t tease Deaky so much,” Brian scolded. “He loves you so.”

Freddie smiled widely, the setting sun painting his golden skin and raven hair in ribbons of molten light. “That’s exactly why I should,” he said fondly. “Because I love him too. And you only tease the ones you love.”

Brian swallowed. “But why don’t you tease me?”

Freddie’s face changed almost imperceptibly. His eyes moved over Brian’s face, and he graced him with a fond smile. “Oh Brian. You’re different.”

Brian considered that. How was he any different than Roger or John?

He looked up and Freddie was stretching cat-like in the dying light. “Gotta make myself beautiful, Bri,” he said through a stretch. “It’s almost show time.”

Freddie left Brian sitting on the patio, still wondering what he meant.

---

Backstage was crowded and hot, a miserable little room with two dressing tables (one Freddie required entirely) and no windows. The two mirrors afforded them were scratched and dull, and Brian had to grip a makeup sponge in one hand and wipe sweat with the other.

“I’ve never been so bloody miserable in my entire life,” he muttered sullenly.

“Take your shirt off,” Roger offered. He was walking around in a pair of tight jeans and suspenders and nothing else, and Brian had no doubt he was planning on going on stage like that.

“No thanks,” Brian said. “I don’t have a drumset to hide behind.”

Deaky was characteristically quiet as he drew a dark line of kohl around his eyes. Freddie watched him without hovering, making sure he applied it properly. “Like this darling,” he said, helpfully making an adjustment. “Now that’s sexy.”

Freddie was, of course, a vision in white satin pants and matching top with a deep plunging neckline emblazoned with sequins. His dark hair shined. He had dusted his prominent cheekbones with blush and accented his eyes with kohl. On his feet, he wore a pair of high-heel white leather boots.

“Be careful on stage tonight, Fred. It’s a small space, and it’s high. I was up there earlier setting up,” Deaky said.

Freddie patted his cheek. “Don’t you worry about a thing, darling, I’m as surefooted as a cat.”

Brian huffed. “Freddie, what have you got picked out for me to wear? Hopefully something light…I’m melting in here.”

Freddie stood and fluffed his hair, dramatically moving to the makeshift closet the stagehands had set up for them.

He withdrew a sheer black top with matching pants. There were sequins down the leg.

“Here you go my love.” He looked at Brian meaningfully. “My stage counterpart…black to my white.” His eyes shined as he met Brian’s gaze. “I thought we would switch it up this time around.”

Something fluttered in Brian’s chest as he looked at Freddie, striking in his makeup and stagewear, but beneath it all, just as amazing.

“Yeah,” Brian managed. “That was a good idea.”

Brian hurriedly got dressed, finding the clothes Freddie had chosen for him were just right. He was pretty sure the shirt was Freddie’s. The pants might have been Deaky’s, but they fit him well.

Freddie clapped his hands. “Ok gents! Are we ready to fucking do this?!” They all circled around Freddie, responding enthusiastically. When the time came, they lined up behind the curtain and waited for their cue.

Brian could hear the tightly packed club, assembled crowd cheering their name. He looked at Freddie, and his eyes were lit with excitement. “Let’s do it, darling,” he said over the chants from the audience.

The show was electric. Brian’s fingers flew over his guitar…it was like his body was connected to every string, every note he played. Roger’s drums held them together, wild yet reliable. Deaky’s bass thrummed like a heartbeat.

But the real showstopper, of course, was Freddie. His voice soared to the rafters. He spun and whirled, every step taking him closer and closer to the edge of the small stage.

Deaky had warned him about going too far, but there had always been an air of invincibility about Freddie that worried Brian. He was about to launch into his solo, when he heard the scream.

And his whole world stopped.

Freddie slipped, the toe of his boot catching on the narrow edge of the stage, and fell a good ten feet into the crowd below. And Deaky, being closest to him at the time, had seen it happen.

Deaky’s was the scream Brian had heard, not Freddie’s, but it was no matter. Brian had launched himself to the edge of the stage, his guitar forgotten, peering over to try and find his friend.

Freddie lay twisted on the dirty floor of the club, his all-white ensemble a stark contrast to the black space. A small circle of people had opened up around him, their hands clutched to their chests in horror. Roadies and stage managers rushed to his aid, hesitant to touch him but needing to do something to help, only not knowing what. Distantly, someone called out for an ambulance.

Brian sat there frozen, until he wasn’t. His legs were moving, pounding down the stairs followed closely by John and Roger who kept muttering something about how he had to be ok, he just had to be ok. Someone was cursing. Brian couldn’t hear above the blood roaring in his ears, and all he could see was that image burned onto his brain of Freddie lying there like a broken marionette doll and him feeling powerless…so powerless to do anything.

There were people…so many people. The club was still so crowded and now curious onlookers had pressed in, hoping to get a peek at what was happening with Freddie. “Out of my way!” Brian screamed, “Move!” He outright shoved a few people as he, Roger and John scrambled to get to Freddie.

The last person cleared their path, and Brian fell on his knees beside him. There was blood coming from a deep wound on his head, and he wasn’t moving. “Oh, God,” Brian said, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Brian looked at Ratty, Freddie’s trusted assistant, his face twisted in anguish. “When is the ambulance coming?!”

“It should be any time now. The roads are washed out. Fuck!” Ratty was close to Freddie and was just as worried as any of them.

Roger leaned in, gently touching Freddie’s twisted leg. “Freddie…Freddie wake up chap.” Behind them, Deaky stood back, chewing his thumbnail. His eyes were shining with unshed tears. “Brian, what do we do?” Roger looked at Brian rather helplessly. He had always been the one to fix everything. The one they all turned to when they needed answers.

Brian let the tears flow freely as he gently stroked Freddie’s cheek. It was starting to bruise; he must’ve hit it against the floor when he fell.

Brian moved so he could cradle Freddie’s head in his lap. What would he do if Freddie never woke up? How would he go on? Something painful twisted in his chest, almost like his heart was crumbling into tiny shards, stealing his breath.

Gathering himself, he began singing to him softly, tears strangling his voice. “You never heard my song before the music was too loud…But now I think you hear me well for now we both know how…” He stopped to run a hand through Freddie’s raven locks, trying to ignore the blood he found there.

“Do you hear me Freddie?” He pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Do you know how?”

He felt the small moan rather than heard it, then Freddie stirred in his arms. Freddie frowned, then winced, and Roger and Deaky began murmuring grateful thanks.

Freddie blinked up at him. “Hurts,” he whispered.

Brian was openly crying now, but he was also smiling. He had never cried tears of joy, but this must be what it felt like.

“I know my love,” he said soothingly. “I know it does. But we’re going to get you better. That’s all that matters.”

Freddie looked up at him with awe. “Did you…did you kiss me?”

Brian flushed. He could deny it, but he wouldn’t. The things he wanted for himself had been there all along, he had just been too blind to see it. “Yeah,” he said. “Is that ok?”

Freddie smiled as much as he could, being in so much pain. “More than ok. I’ve loved you for the longest time, Bri.”

Brian clasped Freddie’s hand tightly, a smile brightening his face. He could hear sirens in the distance, getting closer by the second. He pressed a gentle kiss to Freddie’s lips, feeling him soften against him. “You’re going to be ok,” he said against him. “We both are.”

-0-0-0-

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lilydeerwrites · 6 years ago

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A Muggle Studies Moment: 2

The Gryffindor Common Room was buzzing with quiet activity as groups of students chatted softly over notes and books. It was that time of the year when exams were imminent. Lily and Remus were surrounded by books and papers. A floating teapot steamed as both students absently sipped tea. Remus had charmed it to stay warm and refill their cups as needed. Lily filed that knowledge away for later experimentation. They had started out on a sofa, but their notes and books began to spread out to the point that it became necessary to move down to the floor. Now, Peter was sprawled out behind them, occasionally asking for help with his Charms work.

The arrival of James and Sirius was heralded by the sound of running feet and laughter. When they entered the Common Room, several pairs of eyes gazed at them reproachfully.

“Oi, Padfoot ... why is it so quiet in here?” James whispered urgently.

Sirius shrugged. “Exams, I guess?”

“Exams?” James glanced at Remus, Lily, and Peter. “Exams. Yeah. I suppose I should probably ... do that.”

Sirius let himself flop inelegantly to the ground beside Remus, causing some of his notes to flutter. His teacup rattled indignantly.

Just when he was about to be annoyed, Sirius burrowed close, hugging his knee so awkwardly he had to chuckle instead. He gave the shaggy hair a gentle pat.

James looked as though he would very much like to do the same to Lily, but fortunately for him, thought better of it and sat beside Peter on the couch.

“Shove over a bit, would you, Pete? I suppose I should do a bit of review. Accio my Charms book!”

James’ book came hurtling down from the dorm in a manner very similar to its owner.

“What were you two off doing anyway?” Peter asked

James shrugged. “A bit of research. For Muggle Studies,” he said, a little too nonchalantly.

Lily cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “What sort of horrible Muggle-Magical hybrid did you two unleash? I haven’t forgotten when you charmed the outdated, terribly stereotypical Muggle outfits to have a walkabout.”

Sirius rolled onto his back, his proud smile at the memory so genuine it actually made Lily want to give him a pat on the head as well. Remus might be the werewolf, but sometimes, she thought privately, his boyfriend was positively canine.

“Those clothes were so stodgy. Like all of the Muggles are going about dressed like that! I know Muggle fashion and all I had to do was pay a bit of attention,” he said.

Lily nodded her agreement. Sirius could make a band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and a blazer look like he should be on a runway. Not that she would tell him that. His head was already big enough. He looked adoringly up at Remus, who blushed and let his arm rest across the other boy’s chest.

Instead, she said, “You do know that most Muggles don’t go about dressed like David Bowie and Freddie Mercury, right?”

Still grinning at the memory of stodgy old Muggle clothes having a stroll and then a waltz around the classroom, Sirius replied, “Only the cool ones.”

“Pads, your arse is on my Charms book. That can’t be comfortable,” Remus raised an eyebrow, then rolled his eyes. “Unless of course you’re actively trying to get me to reach for it. Attention hog.”

Sirius, who was once again wearing Remus’ oversized rust-colored jumper sighed happily. “I love how well you know me.”

Ever since Remus had given him the sweater when he had been hurt, Sirius found reason after reason to wear it. Remus had complained that when he wore the jumper it made him look shabby, but somehow made Sirius look artfully disheveled.

Her attention drifted to James, whose eyes flickered studiously across the pages of his Charms book. He hadn’t asked her out once since the incident around the holidays, and she was annoyed that this bothered her. Maybe he was embarrassed that she had seen him so upset? Sirius had been much worse off, and he didn’t seem awkward about it. If anything, he had started spending more time with her, gotten to know her, told her she was pretty, and thanked her a few dozen times for aiding in his rescue. Remus explained later that Sirius liked positive attention so much himself that he could go a bit overboard when he was trying to make someone feel good about themselves. She hadn’t minded.

She sighed, shut the book, and stretched her arms. “I need a moment. My brains are turning to mush.” She leaned back against the sofa, eyes closed, and felt the back of her head brush James’ knee. He tensed, but didn’t pull away.

Hmmm. Interesting. She decided to file the information away. Maybe he was over her? Embarrassed? Under orders from his friends to behave like a human being? If she asked the other Marauders, they would certainly tell James that she had asked, but maybe that wouldn’t be so bad?

She felt a wad of paper hit her face, then another. She opened her eyes to see the papery bird-creature Marlene had accidentally transfigured Lily’s essay into earlier in the year. The awful thing had been flapping about the Common Room ever since, letting out its mysteriously-appearing paper droppings at will. She had long since rewritten and turned in the essay, but the fact that she had not been able to stop the essay-bird was infuriating.

Peter had seen what happened, and he chortled gleefully. “That thing’s just had a dump on your forehead, Evans! I thought you and Marlene stopped it weeks ago.”

Lily sat up, glaring at the flappy, papery thing. “We put it in a bin, but it escaped. Marls dumped water on it yesterday, but it’s made a full recovery since. She swears she doesn’t know what went wrong to make it this way.”

Stirring his tea thoughtfully, Remus asked, “In some cultures, it’s good luck for a bird to have a poo on you.”

Lily raised an eyebrow at him and he hastily changed his direction. ”Have you asked McGonagall? I’d imagine she could stop the little pest.”

James laughed. “Can you imagine if she went after it in cat form? I’d pay to see that!”

Sirius was looking way too thoughtful, as though he was trying to engineer exactly how to have that happen. She envisioned his brain looking like a Rube Goldberg design on the inside. “Minnie could do it, that’s for sure.”

“The point is that it was my essay and I want to figure it out,” she said firmly. “It’s not hurting anyone. It’s just occasionally annoying. Rather like you lot, these days,” she said, her tone more affectionate than critical.

She stretched again, then pulled her book back into her lap. “What were you two up to earlier? What type of research were you doing?”

James turned a bit pink. “Nothing important. Not a prank, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said.

“Sirius?” Lily asked. “Anything you wish to tell me?”

He turned as pink as James. “Ah, well, you see ...”

James crossed his arms, scowling. “Traitor.”

“Look at her eyes, James! She’s giving me those sad baby animal eyes. You know I’m powerless here,” Sirius rationalized.

James glanced up at Lily and nodded. “Fine, then.”

“So ... James and I, we got rather ... interested in that episode of Muggle tell-o-vision we watched in class.”

She frowned. “The one with the doctors? The medical soap opera?”

“That’s the one. You see, I like a good story, and so does old Prongsy. When we were first years, Moony used to read out loud sometimes, just in the dorm, you know? Hard to sleep sometimes when you’re little and off alone the first time, right?”

Peter snorted. “First years? Moony still reads him to sleep sometimes - “

“Anyway, the point is that me and James, we got really sort of invested in knowing whether or not the surgery was successful.”

“What?” Lily watched them both, confused.

“Like, did Mr. Morris die? Did he live? How did his wife take it? Did he ever find out his son wasn’t really his? Did his brother find out? You can’t just show a bloke one chapter and not ever let him see the rest of the book!”

Sirius sounded so indignant she was torn between wanting to laugh out loud and hug him.

James took over. “I hate unresolved story lines. So, we sneaked into the lab to see if the Prof had more of it on the - the tape, was it? Are they tapes? Because I thought tapes were the new records?”

Looking thoroughly scandalized, Sirius protested, “Nothing will ever replace vinyl, Prongs. It’s not right.”

She laughed and caught Remus’ eye. His smile lit up his face, she suspected as much by the admission of story time as by their insatiable desire to find out how the unfortunate Mr. Morris had fared.

Trust serialized Muggle television drama to ensnare the minds of the most ridiculously curious members of Gryffindor House.

“Did you find it?” She asked.

They exchanged glances. “No ... but we did knock over the entire tell-o-vision catalog. We tried to put it right, but Filch was on the move, and we had to bolt,” Sirius explained.

“The films - those are the round ones, right? They were rolling about, and we had to go out the window and climb up to avoid being caught,” James finished.

Surprising even herself, Lily laughed out loud at their tale. The Muggle artifacts in the lab were just that - artifacts. Most of them were so old they were from her parents’ time rather than the current decade.

“First of all, it’s absolutely adorable that you’re so interested. Especially since shows like that are mostly watched by Muggle housewives with awfully boring lives. Secondly, my mum and my sister watch that soap opera, I believe. I can inquire over the summer and send you an owl, if you like.”

The hopefulness in their eyes was so ridiculous that Peter and Remus burst into guffaws as well.

Helplessly, Remus managed, “We’ve always said James was a bit mumsy. When his Quidditch kids get hurt, when one of us needs him - aww, don’t blush, Prongs. It’s actually very sweet. I mean it.”

James shook his head, joining in the laughter. “An owl would be great, Lily. We’ll both be at my place this year, so ... two birds one stone? Er ... okay, bad taste there, Potter. No killing, then.”

Lily smiled as sweetly as she could. “There’s only one bird on my kill list, and it’s the one that was formerly my essay.” She gestured with two fingers from her eyes and pointed at the roosting paper bird. “I’ve got my eyes on you!”

Sirius squinted at it from his position on the floor. “What if - no, it couldn’t ...”

“What?” She asked. “What if what?”

Hesitantly, he continued. “What if ... when it, well ... shits, it’s actually editing your essay? Have you unwrapped any of the droppings?”

She made a face. “No, I have not unwrapped the droppings. Ugh!”

James stood, bowed before her, and went to pick up some of the little balls of paper. He gave a small cry of disgust. “Why is it ... moist? Padfoot, help!”

“Can’t. ‘m comfortable. If I get up, I’ll die.”

“Drama, much?” Remus asked, dryly.

“Drama always,” Sirius sighed happily, hugging Remus’ knee even tighter.

James pushed on, peeling back the mushy paper bits, making a face the whole time.

With a monumental effort and a long sigh, Sirius pushed himself upright. “It doesn’t eat, mate. It can’t be that bad. You’ve spat parchment loogies twice that size and somehow didn’t get poisoned,” he said, taking a little paper ball into his hand as well. “Christ, it’s mushy! That’s quite distasteful.”

At that point, Peter joined in, picking an old one off of the end table next to the sofa. “You’re right, Pads. It’s ... damp.”

Remus sighed heavily. “As I’m out of synonyms for the word wet, I suppose this is up to me.”

He pulled out his wand, levitated the paper ball, and then cast a drying charm on it. “Remember? We’re magical?” He asked, sarcastically.

Remus unwrapped the now-dry ball of paper and read aloud, “Remove third paragraph, take the fourth sentence and use it as a thesis statement. Rework.”

“Well!” Lily fumed.

Sirius did the same and read his, “Must pare down. Far too long-winded.”

Peter read, “Too wordy. Please summarize Paragraph twenty.”

“Really!” She growled.

James looked at his, looked back up at Lily, and thought better of it, stuffing the paper ball into his pocket. “Um ... Lily? Were you and Marls partnered on this essay, by chance?”

“Yes, why?” She asked, expectantly.

She was finding herself most distracted by the way he rubbed at his arm when he was nervous. When had she noticed that he did that?

“Because,” he said, a little reluctantly. “I think she may have pranked you but good. There is no way this is accidental magic or a mistake. It’s bloody brilliant!”

“If Marlene did this, we’re missing out on a potentially amazing pranking resource! Where is she, anyway? Haven’t seen her all day.” Sirius stood on a chair, trying to gently scoop the paper bird into his hand. It flapped indignantly to a higher perch.

Moments later, all four Marauders were after the bird, shouting, laughing, and levitating furniture and one another. Remus tried an Accio on it, but it didn’t work.

James let out a low whistle. “Merlin, she’s good! What did you do to piss her off, anyway?”

Lily thought, but couldn’t come up with anything. She winced at the sight of Sirius, being levitated by Peter toward the overhead lamps.

“Steady on, Pete! Don’t drop me, mate!” He called as he reached for the essay-bird. His hands were about to close around it, when the door opened to admit Minerva McGonagall.

“It’s a bit noisier than usual in here. Is anything wr - “ She stopped, taking in the sight of Sirius mid-air, James on a chair, and Remus on the floor, still guarding their notes and books, and his floating teapot. “Mr. Black! You come right down here this moment! Mr. Pettigrew, put him down. Gently!” Admonished the Gryffindor Head of House.

When Sirius was safely on the floor, she asked calmly, “Could someone explain the wild rumpus I could hear through the wall in my study?”

Sirius grinned at her. “I knew you cared, Minnie.”

McGonagall ignored him, but there was no fire in her glare.

Lily and James started at the same time, “Well, Professor,” “You see, Professor, I - “

The essay-bird took its opportunity to swoop free of Sirius’ grasp, and dump a wet little paper ball on McGonagall’s head. Without a single moment of hesitation, she transformed into a cat, leapt into the air, and caught it in her teeth, giving it a little shake for good measure.

All of the students stared, but the Marauders and Lily were momentarily speechless. Professor McGonagall transformed quickly back into herself, removed the paper bird from her mouth quite daintily, and tucked it into the pocket of her robe.

“Was that the trouble, then?” She asked.

“Yes, Professor McGonagall,” Lily answered. “It - it used to be my old Charms essay. I had to rewrite, after, well ...” She gestured to the pocket area of the professor’s robe.

“An excellent essay you turned in, Miss Evans. It will be curious to have a look at the old one, if I can get it to unspell itself without destroying it.” She glanced around the room to where James and Sirius were still a bit star-struck from her heroic feline actions. “If everything is well, I shall return to my grading?”

Satisfied that her students were safe and much quieter, she left.

“Merlin,” James breathed. “That was brilliant!”

“It was like a prophecy. I wished for it, and it happened! Did someone slip me a luck potion or what?” Sirius exclaimed. “She just ... transformed ... already in the air and took it down, like a little tabby tiger for the kill!”

It took a few minutes for the excitement to die down, but as Lily returned to studying and drinking tea with Remus, she cast another surreptitious glance at James. Huh. Not hideous, a bit mumsy, and loves a good story. Who knew?

#marauders era #marauders fic #the marauders #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #wolfstar #minerva mcgonagall #fanfiction #fic #marauders fanfiction

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theunseeliemperoress · 6 years ago

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Ultimate Custom Night: Voice’s

(I’ve decided to make a post of all the lines from the game [not including phone guy’s] and give my analysis/opinion on them)

This is the video I used as a ref

Foxy: “Yar I came for ye booty. That be treasure you know.” “Yar. You never stood a chance.” “I can’t run like I used to. But I can pull my self apart just fine.” (Could refer to how he’d run at you in the first game) “Arr. So much more spacious in here. I may stay a while.” “Yar har har. Never underestimate the cunning of a pirate. Or a fox for that matter.” He sounds exactly how I thought he would.

Nightmare Fredbear: “Let’s see how many time’s you can be pulled apart.” (pulling things/being pulled apart seems to be a reoccurring theme) “I assure you I am very real” “This time there is more than an illusion to fear.” (Both lines could be about how in FNAF 4 none of the animatronics are real) “We know who are friends are. But you are not one of them.” “Let me put you back together. And then take you apart all over again.” I like how his voice is gruff and distorted (actually I like how all the fnaf 4 animatronics have distorted voices). It also sounds layered to me. Or there could be a second voice underneath.

Happy Frog: “Everyone underestimates me. But then they turn their back and I’m like boo! And their like wagh!” “Move over Freddy Fazbear! Happy Frog is the new star of the show.” “We’ve only just begun. I will never let you leave. I will never let you rest.” (Said in a whispered tone. Sounds more sinister than her usual voice) “I bet you weren’t expecting me were ya? Turn your back for one second and I’m like wozoo! Ninja skills.” “You and I don’t get to talk as often as I’d like.” Very cute voice acting. I like how they throw in one creepy line. That should throw a few people off.

Jack-O-Chika: (voice is distorted) “I am a burning reminder of your misdeeds.”) “Greetings from the fire and the one you should not have killed.” (Player character killed someone. Who? My theory at the moment is they’re the purple guy (or maybe one of them) and they’re in hell. But we’ll see if that sticks) “Did things get really hot in here? Or is it just me?” “Come and burn with me. The fire burns eternal. And now you shall as well!” (Further supports my hell theory) A lot of their lines contain hints towards the lore. But due to the distortion they can be hard to hear. Typical of fnaf lore (in plain sight but hard to decipher). My fave voice from the fnaf4 animatronics.

Lefty: (whispers everything) “Shhh...Come spend eternity inside. With me.” (Inside where?) “Shhh...I’ve been looking for you. And now I’ll never let you go.” “Shhh...I’m so glad that I found you. Let me make room for you.” “Shhh...It will all be over soon.” “Shhh...There is room for one more.” (One more in the suit?) His voice is actually one of the creepiest to me. Especially as it sounds like a little boy.

Mangle: “I wanted to wait till just the right moment to drop in.” “It’s so much more fun hanging out in here with you.” “He’s here. And always watching. The one you shouldn’t have killed.” (”The one you shouldn’t have killed” is mentioned a lot) “Don’t be afraid. Soon you will look just like me. Beautiful.” “Now I get to play take apart and put back together. You won’t feel a thing.” The fact they have a male and female voice actor makes me really happy.

Marionette: “The others are under my protection.” “Seeing you powerless is like music to me.” “The others are like animals. But I am very aware.” (Did the other children/victims loose their humanity? Why not this one?) “I don’t hate you. But you need to stay out of my way.” “I recognise you. But I’m not afraid of you. Not anymore.” (Further evidence player character was/is a killer) The childish voice makes an already creepy character creepier. Are they the one “You should not have killed?” (Though their voice sounds like a little girl and Mangled clearly say “He’s here”.)

Ballora: “I could hear you breathing.” “Admit it. You wanted to let me in.” “These are strange circumstances. That have brought us together.” “Don’t be shy. Why do you hide inside these walls?” Her lines are very flirty. Which seems strange.

Toy Chica: “Where’s my beak? Lodged in your forehead of course.” “*Giggles* You won’t get tired of dying will you? You won’t get tired of my voice? Will you?” (further evidence towards the hell theory) “Let’s go somewhere more private. So I can eat you.” Interesting but very fitting voice acting. Nightmare Bonnie: “You will not be spared. You will not be saved.” “The shadows (indistinct) me. And (indistinct) you back to horror(?) “Your/You’re wickedness made of flesh.” “I’m here to claim what is left of you.” Creepy voice but I can barely understand anything he says

The Music Man: “Hear that. It’s the sweet sweet sound of your eternal silence.” “Hey keep it down would ya?” “When I’m here you play by My rules.” “A song was requested of me. And now I sing it.” “You and I will be making music together for a long long time.” A weird voice for a weird looking character.

Nedbear: “Stranger danger! *laughs* I was just waiting for you to drop your guard.” “Woops. That’s gonna leave a mark.” “This is how it feels. You get to experience it over and over and over again. Forever. I will never let you leave.” (A little girls voice can be heard just out of sync) “Don’t you hate getting killed by obscure secondary characters?” The hillbilly accent is fun. The little girls voice implies even these characters have dark secrets.

Nightmare Freddy (voice is distorted): “No light can save you now.” “I have always been hiding in your shadow.” “What a gift to relish a victim that can’t perish.” (Hell theory) “I am given flesh to be your tormentor.” “I am remade. But not by you. By the one you should not have killed.” Very creepy. Probably one of the easiest Nightmare to understand but still creepy.

Nightmare BB: “There just isn’t room in here for both of us.” “You knew I’d get you eventually.” “Come closer. Help me count my teeth.” “Flash that light all night/all you like. It can’t save you now.” “You’re not so big. Just a bite size morsel.”

Nightmarionette: (voice is distorted) “The nightmare is just beginning.” “Let’s taste (?) death again, and again and again.” “I am the fear of your reflection and the one you have created.” (The one you have created could be the Marionette) “This is a nightmare you won’t wake from.” (Hell theory?) “This time death can not save you.” (Hell theory) Voice is very hard to understand but very creepy.

Nightmare Mangle: Voice is covered by a lot of static and radio interference. I could hear something that sounded like “Come here come here” though it’s not clear.

William Afton: “I always come back.” Has a more human sounding voice despite being in a state of disrepair (like the nightmares and withered animatronics) which makes sense. The fact he and Springtrap are different animatronics throws a wrench in a few theories I’ve heard.

Orville Elephant: “I hope you enjoyed the grand finale.” “Now is my time to shine.” “He tried to release you. He tried to release us. But I’m not gonna let that happen. I will hold you here. I will keep you here. No matter how many times they burn us.” (a little girls voice can be heard just after his. Who are they?) “What did you think of my act? I don’t get out much. So you’ll have to forgive my enthusiasm. I love how he sounds like a sweet old man.

Pigpen: “Even monkey’s fall from trees.” “The nail that sticks out gets hammered down.” “The talented hog hides his claws.” “I consider it a dignified death. Not really it was actually quite pathetic.” “If you sit by the river long enough you’ll see the body of your enemy floating by.” The hillbilly voice really suits him, and the banjo makes me laugh.

Rockstar Bonnie: (Electronic voice, sings) “What a fine day to come here and say Your face and flesh I must flay” “What a treat, to come here and meet (?), your face as it hits concrete (?) “I found my guitar. now reach for the stars, As I bludgeon and pull you apart.” “Why so blue? You know I’ll be true. And now I’ll make slippers (?) out of you.” “So good to see you again. My truest friend. But now your life must end.” (Calls the player character his “truest friend”. Does he mean it? Why does he want to kill PC? Did PC kill him (if he’s one of the possessed animatronics) Interesting how he’s the only one who sings.

Rockstar Chika: “That’ll teach ya for trying to trick this old bird.” “Thought you could fool me with that sign. But I was too smart for ya.” “I may not like wet floors but the smell of fresh meet is just too enticing.” “Looks like you’re the one who slipped up this time.” “That’s right. And don’t you come back now you hear.” Her voice makes me think of a female rockstar from the 70s or 80s.

Scrapbaby: “Time for your controlled shock.” (said two different ways) “Let’s see how many pieces I can cut you into.” “You won’t die. But you’ll wish you could.” (hell theory) Sounds just like Baby’s voice. (personally I’d have made it a little different but it’s fine as it is) Toy Freddie: “It’s not my fault. I have these fat plastic fingers that can’t press the buttons.” “Mr hugs got me again.” “If I get jumpscared. You get jumpscared.” “That game was totally rigged.” “That’s what you get for leaving me hanging.” Voice could get annoying after a while.

Trash and the gang: (female voice, whispers) “Psst over here. Get closer.” “Excuse me could you come a little closer?” “Hey. Down here. Hello. I wanted to ask you something. Its something really important.” “Psst. I have something to tell you.” “Hey hey. I want to tell you something.” The voice seems to only be there to trick the player into listening more closely before they are jumpscared.

Rockstar Freddie: “Please deposit five coins.” (Said repeatedly during gameplay when active. After jumpscaring the player is said once and grinds to a stop)

Rockstar Foxy “Yar. Ye play with fire and sometime’s ye get burned.” Voice is very similar to Foxy’s but the slight difference is fitting.

Withered Bonnie: (voice has an electronic echo) “Time to face the consequences of your behaviour (?)” “Might as well face the facts. You were always destined to fail.” “You blinked.” “Why (indistinct)? Is it me (indistinct)? Or is it you? Perhaps it is us both.” “I’ve made (indistinct) fate. But (indistinct) taught (?)” Could someone please tell me what he’s saying?

Withered Chika: (Indistinct) through the vent. But now we are together.” “Let me show you how to break your face and look like me.” “I was the first. I have seen everything.” (The first what? Animatronic? Victim?) “Come closer. Let’s smile(?) together.” “I have seen him. The one you shouldn’t have killed.” The juttering voice is creepy though not the creepiest.

Baby: “I guess you forgot about me.” “Want to see the scooping room?” (Player character could be the main character from SL or Baby’s creator. Or both?) “Guess you forgot about me. Looks like something bad happened.”

Robot(?): “Now I will tell you a story.” “But he could not choose.” “He placed the remains together.” “He promised to never leave them.” Sounds like the War of the Worlds CD my mum has. Who’s story is it telling? The player characters? The Marionettes?

Mr Hippo: NOPE. NO. Not doing it. I’m not typing all his lines. I’d like to do other things today thank you very much. (His line “maybe I met some sort of demise of my own” is interesting though) Sounds like an old man.

#ultimate custom night #fnaf #long post bellow the read more #info dump

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jurassicraptorcat · 7 years ago

Text

Ok Google

((So....just so everyone knows I’m currently writing a rather long fic about what if all the markiplier egos were actually Five Nights at Freddys robots who got corrupted and then saved. Then I saw @tomiyeee ‘s lovely picture of tortured Google and got inspired. Tomiyeee I apologize for this ahead of time.))

((WARNINGS FOR TORTURE AND THE ROBOT VERSION OF BLOOD))

“Are you going to talk now you piece of trash?” His captor demanded.

Google stared down at his broken leg and watched as the oil stain on his pants grew larger. He replied, “I have been talking this entire time.”

The blow to the face was expected,his captor had done this many times ever since Google was captured. His hair being grabbed so his captor could drag him up and look him in the face was new.

“Sassy piece of shit aren’t ya?” The captor asked.

Google responded, “A rhetorical qu-.”

A knife the man was hiding in his hand behind him slammed into Google’s left eye. Errors began popping up faster than Google’s processor system could handle.

There was a noise escaping Google’s mouth which Google concluded was another error brought on by the damage the knife was doing to sensitive circuitry.

The captor grinned nastily at Google and asked, “Where are the rest of your kind?”

“N-n-no,” Google stuttered out. His systems were becoming overloaded with error messages.

The knife was twisted in Google’s eye socket slowly forcing a sound from his mouth like screeching metal.

“Tell us where the others are,” The captor asked again forcefully.

Google grit his teeth before responding, “N-never.”

“Tell us!” The captor shouted. The knife was slid out partially only to be jammed back into Google’s eye. More errors popped, to many for Google to handle. His processors were overheating trying to keep up.

In Google’s remaining eye a terrifying shade of blue popped up.

Google’s system crashed.

Google rebooted at half the speed he usually did. His processors were still overloaded with flashing errors. He was struggling to do even the simplest of tasks like opening a file.

It took enormous effort and patience for Google to locate and shut down the sensors in his left eye. Almost half the error messages disappeared.

Relief filled Google as his processor speed finally began to quicken to its usual pace.

Footsteps coming down the hall had Google tensing up in preparation. The door clanged open but Google kept a straight face even as oil dripped from his ruined eye socket onto his jeans Everest had helped him buy. He counted the drips as a way to see how long time was passing.

“Ok Google.”

Google felt his code surge forward to take control. In this he was powerless as his captor prepared him for a new round of interrogation for any scrap of information he could gain.

Something was thrown onto the floor on front of Google who glanced up and froze. Bing lay crumpled in a heap not moving an inch.

Their captor stood over Bing holding the prototype taser Google had been tinkering with. A shiver of dread went down Google’s spine at the implications of why Bing wasn’t moving.

Bing was the youngest of them after only being just discovered and activated a few short months ago. “Try and look after him,” Everest had asked Google when Bing could be activated without him screaming in pain and fear, “He’s gonna need you guys to teach him how the world doesn’t have to be so scary.”

Google had failed at the only objective Everest had ever asked of him.

Their captor grinned at Google and wiggled the taser menacingly, “Just had to use this bad boy once and he hasn’t moved since although he makes a great squeaky toy.” He kicked Bing who whimpered but still didn’t move.

Google growled out a, “Stop it,” at their captor who grinned at getting a reaction from Google finally.

“Go-oo-ogle?” Bing stuttered out.

Before Google could respond their captor kicked Bing again, harder this time and eliciting a small shriek from Bing. Google yanked at his restraints and their captor noticed.

“You gonna tell us yet their trash?” Their captor questioned.Google grit his teeth in silence.

Their captor snorted and turned to Bing, “Just know this is your fault now.”

He began stomping on Bing’s hand ignoring Bing screaming in pain. Google threw himself against the restraints feeling them start to give. With one last stomp to Bing’s ruined hand their captor stopped and left Bing crying in pain.

“Now there’s a face to look at,” Their captor commented. Google bared his teeth at their captor.

Their captor stepped towards Google while pulling the taser out, ”Let’s start this part-”

They were interrupted by the door banging open and a grunt running in calling for the captor, “Boss we have an issue!”

“What issue!?” Their captor snarled.

The grunt cowered away, “Chuck said it was a Code Love?”

“Fuck!” Their captor yelled, “Well come on then!”

Google watched impatiently as their captor stormed out with the grunt and slammed the door behind them. He waited until their footsteps were gone before calling for Bing.

“Bing.”

He received silence. Dread filled Google.

“Bing!” Google called louder.

Google pulled and yanked at the restraints until he felt the metal give. With one last yank his hands were free.

There was shouting coming from down the hallway that Google ignored. He shuffled forward as quickly as he could with one broken leg and the other damaged.

Bing still wasn’t making a sound and Google rushed to turn him over onto his back. His eyes were closed but Google put a hand on Bing’s chest and felt his core humming.

Relief swept through him. Bing had merely crashed the same as Google did from the errors.

The shouting had moved from down the hallway to right on the other side of the door. Google watched the door warily as something banged against it repeatedly.

The door slammed open and two grunts came stumbling in. One fell immediately as a vase was thrown into the grunt’s head. The other was stumbling away in panic.

Someone screamed from the hallway only to be abruptly shut up. With a war cry Everest came sprinting into the room and jumped onto the grunt still standing and used their momentum to bring the grunt down. They brought her thighs around the struggling grunt’s neck and began choking him out.

“Everest?” Google called.

Everest looked up from where they were still slowly crushing the grunt’s windpipe, “Oh hey Goo- What the fuck did they do to you both!?”

Everest stood from where the grunt was passed out and hopefully not dead to make their way over.

“Google! Bing!” Familiar voices called.

The rest of Google’s robot family minus Dark and Host came crashing into the room in a panic. Everest winked at Google and mouthed, “Taking care of the leader.”

Google was swarmed by Oliver, Green and Red who were scanning him for damage reports and horrified by the results. Oliver was starting to tear up.

“Hey,” Google said while putting a hand on Oliver’s head, “I’m alive. I can be fixed. For right now go concentrate on Bing.”

Oliver protested, “But!”

“I got this boy's,” Everest interrupted with a light touch to their heads.

Reluctantly they left Google’s side to go to Bing and check him over. Everest kneeled down next to Google.

They cupped Google’s face in their hands and tilted his head back and inspect the damage to his eye. Google flinched away when they wiped away oil that was still dribbling out.

“Sorry, to close to the sensors?” Everest asked. Google nodded and Everest took extra care as she probed around his eye.

“I ruined the pants you bought me,” Google informed Everest. He was aching from his failure at his first objective.

Everest snorted, “I’m not worried about the pants Google we can go buy new ones when you’re all fixed up.”

“I failed at-”

“You didn’t fail at anything Google,” Everest interrupted, “Sometimes shitty situations happen and there’s nothing you can do about it no matter how hard you try. But that’s why you have us.”

They smiled at Google, “Are you ready to go home?”

Behind Everest, Bing was just coming back online and Google could hear him complaining to the others, “He broke my sunglasses! AND MY HAND! Bro that ain’t cool!” There would be trauma to deal with later but family brought a sense of safety that let Bing escape from reality for a bit.

Google took a deep, unnecessary breath and felt a tension inside him loosen as Oliver and Red came back over to either side of Google, “Yes, let’s head home.”

#tw torture #googleplier #bingiplier #google red #google green #google oliver #Everest my OC #this is a short piece for #return of the king

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