#I may or may not have self-projected just a teeny bit here but it's fine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starry-skies-116 · 3 years ago

Text

GregEvan Character Analysis (FNAF Project Samsara AU)

This is like the whole compiled post of GregEvan's character analysis: TW warnings include PTSD, trauma, flashbacks, depression, nightmares, etc.

Enjoy my compiled rant about my mentally ill android/golem brunette vessel boy lol:

***

Prologue- Introduction:

Okay- I’ll go ahead and admit, for a literal child that’s appeared in his original human life in the minigames of FNAF 4, and then again in Security Breach in his reincarnated robotic vessel form (taking into account the GregEvan/GregBot theory), I went into depth on his character development a LOT within my interpretations of his backstory and personality, as well as crafting quotes for him and actions that he (in my AU) would do to further drive home his personality and character evolution and the transformation he undergoes with every bit of emotional grief and traumatic event he has to endure.

Taking into account the sticky notes in the Post-It note room and the messages written on them (go check out MatPat’s video on them for in-depth context), the broken glass in the parts and services room, most likely the actions of Gregory in a act of panic, hysteria and desperation out of pleading for his own life unsuccessfully (read all the parts of my fanfic “Software Instability” for more information on my AU), and the terse, apprehensive way he behaves throughout the beginning of the game, I think I have a solidly crafted character arc for my AU- for the universe of FNAF: Project Samsara.

What I like the most about Gregory is that he seems standoffish, blunt and rude for absolutely no reason at first- however, if you take into account his previous personality, the nightmares he endured, and the sheer amount of trauma he went through… one might actually feel pretty happy that he’s become this self-advocating and domineering over himself, despite the overly cautious attitude and survival mode being a bit of a stretch (but, again, very understandable).

Dude has layers. And, at least to me, he has so much potential and is so interesting- this is what I like about the GregEvan theory- it adds so much complexity and character development to the character of the crying child, Evan Afton.

Like, say what y'all will about Gregory, but I love him. He may be mentally a child, but he's a badass. Even in disgrace, even in failure and unimaginable pain and tragedy and strife and tumult, he does not shame himself- he never, ever, ever gives up, never stops fighting for what he believes in, never stops fighting to bring his goals and his dreams to fruition.

He's a certified BAMF, and not just because of his character development, his past life, his losses, his goals, his tragedies, or his nature as a golem/android physical vessel brought to life via extremely dark and questionable methods (my AU). I dunno, it's just impossible for me to hate him, in case y'all couldn't tell before. I love him, I just do.

I mean, did y'all see the way he kicked Chica in the garbage compactor? Savage. Literally- judgement has been passed, they didn't stand a chance. 10/10.

I wanted to do an analysis/headcanon post on him that may be updated and reblogged several times as time goes by because, well, God has favorites, even if he treats those favorites like shit someti- er, okay, fine: most of the time.

Here I present the character arc of our Patient Zero- from past to present, despair to hope, anguish to faith- once merely a victim, now reborn.

Evan and Gregory- two halves of the whole, reincarnated, reborn.

From old trees come new seeds that take root and give birth to new life- in the ashes, a beating heart is reborn, the flame undying- the soul burns brighter than the stars, alight forevermore.

Part 1- Origins:

Evan Cristopher Afton (The Crying Child) is born as the youngest son to the Afton Family sometime around 1972-1973, after Fredbear´s Family Diner was founded. Normally, his age range differs from six to ten, varying depending on the AU, and his place in the family ranges from youngest to middle child to even being fraternal twins with Elizabeth Afton.

In the universe of Project Samsara, Evan is ten, the Bite of ‘83 taking place around his eleventh birthday, which is why Gregory, the reincarnated “perfect” vessel, is created to look around eleven to twelve years old, and he is the middle child, being three to four years older than Elizabeth, and because of his age and pace of maturity within his place in his family, causing him to take on a more caring and open-minded, “maternal” disposition with Elizabeth.

In the process of designing him, I didn’t want to give him bright blue or green eyes like Michael or Elizabeth had, like he has in so many AU´s- it would be the result of genetics inherited from their father or mother, sure, but those choices didn’t… sit well with me, somehow. So there I sat, testing unique eyes on him.

Then, the idea to give him the compound eyes of an insect came to me- a recolouring of Kocho Shinobu’s eyes but with a natural color- a deep, dark brown, so rich and nebulous- so twilight dark it almost appears next-to black, reflecting glimmering specks of light in their wake. No pupils, just pure, unblinking eyes, wide and large, gentle and kind. Reflecting the universe, the celestial bodies of the heavens in their wake, shining with brilliance and curiosity about the universe, the forces larger than man, watching intently over life and growth and change, with every blink.

(I’m rambling about his eyes again, aren’t I.)

From then on I decided to make Evan, and consequently Gregory’s, entire appearance resemble that of someone with a demure, unassuming and outwardly “weak” demeanor- large, gentle and dark eyes, different than that of the bold, bright and piercing eyes of the rest of his family, a soothing and silvery voice, almost nectarous in nature and pleasant to listen to. Light and near-graceful footsteps being made even when he walks, highlighting the more cautious side of his personality: a small, short and weak stature- not malnutritioned in any way, but rather more lithe- petite and dainty, if one will exemplify further, almost as if such a body structure is meant to convey submissiveness.

Everything screams that of a meek, “cute” child, from his pale complexion, taking on the appearance of smooth, pearly white skin tinged with apricot and peach-colored blush here and there, his soft and youthful features, being characterized physically by full cheeks, rosy petal lips, high cheekbones, a cute button nose, somehow naturally curved lashes, not to mention somehow thick and perfectly trimmed brows- hell, even his hair is somehow pretty. It’s thick and voluminous, wavy and slightly tousled in style- dark chestnut brown in color, shimmering as his bangs fall over and frame his face with a piece conveniently falling in between his eyes.

I basically made him the type of boy that would’ve grown up to be ridiculously pretty as an adult. Excuse me while I go cry now because haha foreshadowing goes brrr.

The tragedy begins with the headcanon that he- that Evan- wasn’t always like this.

At first, he starts out at four years old as someone who is easygoing, calm and cheerful- articulate, intelligent and quite intellectually/emotionally mature for his age, evidenced by the way he would sometimes have deep conversations with his Fredbear plush. He starts out as someone who craves affection and gives it in return- someone who endlessly loves, trusts, respects and appreciates those around him.

Furthermore, the older he gets- the more he has to outwardly mature, and the more he has to focus on his perception of who the world wants him to be, and the more he has to take care of his younger sister. He begins to develop a version of empty-nest syndrome- every day, he secretly craves affection and validation- he craves to be emotionally, spiritually and physically vulnerable and helpless without someone hurting or humiliating him. Just for once, even if it’s only once- he wants to be selfish, childish and pampered, and he especially desires this from his older brother Michael- more on their relationship and how it evolves later.

The concept of chasing material pursuits- external glory- comes from his father, as well as the world around him- and rather than confronting his feelings and providing the proper self-care for confronting and pacifying said feelings… wouldn´t it be so much easier to bottle them up? To be what the world expects of you? To never feel your own pain again, and instead escape by feeling the pain of others?

***

I´ll offer you a bit of short worldbuilding context within this post to give more clarification on how souls work within my AU of FNAF:

Since the beginning of creation itself, all of life is born with a soul, evidenced by the real life explanation that all things containing cells are somehow biologically alive. Varying from lifeform to lifeform, all things have something in common, as they possess a life force that continues to keep their physical and organic components somehow alive, referred to via many names.

The entity itself has three components, most visibly common in humans:

The vessel

The soul

The shadow

All held together by this inexplicable life force that goes by many names varying upon the sources referred to.

The vessel, which serves the role its name suggests, and is exactly what its name suggests as well- the physical vessel that is a part of the entitaem, instead of the body just merely being something the soul loosely inhabits with no connection to the body whatsoever. The physical vessel contains the memories, personality, consciousness, spiritual core, heart, and most of the emotion (keyword being most), and is characterized by humanity, self-awareness, the unique personality the person possesses, a basic-to-complex array of emotional spectrums, and the retention of all five senses as a way to sustain the vessel, and by extension, the soul and the shadow.

The soul, which departs from the body upon the death or “expiration” of the physical vessel. One historian comically dubbed and described organic bodies as having a “shelf life” varying depending on the lifeform in context, but the soul, as described by many, is eternal- being able to take on many forms, possess many things, and even have, to some extent, supernatural abilities if the entity in question is particularly powerful or spiritually potent.

The shadow, represented by the person’s past regrets, desires, and lingering emotions and sensations, often fueled by strong primal instincts instead of more “human” emotions, some examples being pleasure, pain, love, trust, fear, hatred and rage. Oftentimes they take the form of wraithlike, inky black creatures without any detail or form, only with visibly glowing white eyes, hence the name of “shadow” given to it. They can vary from anything, from butterflies to animals to vaguely human-like figures, to monstrous, vengeful and hostile approximations of tormented souls that have suffered particularly tragic and violent lives or deaths, the latter often belonging to souls that linger on the physical plane of existence- tormented spirits whom cannot find peace or rest due to unresolved conflicts and lingering wishes unattended to and disrespected.

In most theologies, the soul moves on to the afterlife once it has found peace, and it can only be found peace through some sort of ritual, as prehistoric humans have found, resulting in the human culture of immense respect and veneration for the dead. However, emotional muck from when the individual was alive can tend to impact their entire self.

In Evan´s case, it´s a plethora of things- horrible, saddening, harrowing and internalized things that build up on their own and eat away at him from the inside out with no one there to notice or take care of him, to validate him- and what makes it worse is that he has to deal with such things as a child building up inside of him, and he feels guilt for feeling and thinking such things, and for being spiritually corrupted with negative emotions. He has a good life, does he not? Why does he still feel sad? He shouldn´t feel sad, he doesn´t have a right to feel sad, does he?

(He doesn´t yet know. It´s never that simple, it never has been.)

Actively confronting the darker parts of yourself and accepting them, though it is a difficult and arduous journey that many people never bother to start, let alone complete, can reduce and even eliminate corruption within yourself. Moral of the story: don´t neglect your needs, physical, emotional or spiritual. Take care of yourself, please- because that´s what Evan failed to do, and that´s exactly what comes back to bite him every day without him even knowing fully about the existence of mental health and personal needs.

Focus on yourself before you can focus on others- forge your own identity and beliefs and stick to who you think you are- embrace all parts of yourself, even the ugliest, darkest parts, and take steadfast charge of yourself and your own destiny because it´s YOUR life, and YOUR rightful future- that´s the purpose of the existence of the soul, and Gregory/Evan´s character arc through what I´m trying to signify in the AU, primarily directed from my own beliefs drilled into my head as a kid- if you can´t stand, how can you help others stand?

***

Already, the gaping stomachs of his nightmares and their undeniably sharp teeth are what set off all the alarm bells in his brain- of course, he´s a child. Being tormented by them for four-to-five years of his life, as they sometimes showed up, sometimes didn´t- who wouldn´t be scared of them? Who wouldn´t be scared of their own internal struggles and insecurities, ignoring their needs due to personal weakness and heavy diffidence, so prominent that it weighs them down, locking their true selves away?

Evan spends the final six out of all ten years of his first life actively running away from who he is- he´s scared of exposing his heart to the world, as if they´re going to hurt or break it, whoever ¨they¨ are. The nightmares are a perversive reflection of the internal struggles he faces. It is a culmination of the sentiments, unfulfilled desires and pain that corrupt his mind and soul. He runs away from the darkest corners of his thoughts when his body actively tries to warn him that this kind of fear, this kind of emotional withdrawal and willful self-torture isn´t healthy for him. Every night is a representation of how he feels, the worst parts of his sentiments worsening even more every day.

And the saddest part? Evan’s hope for his family and his future, and his willingness to trust others that formed the original basis of his childlike, carefree naivete that all children start out with was massacred at such a young age, and now, his faith and pride in himself is slowly diminishing- rotting away as he sinks further into his own despair, neglecting his own needs more and more, caused by the views of his family, his peers, his elders and the world around him morphing and distorting the way he sees himself, as well as pre-defined a set of strict expectations that he can’t seem to reach.

The only things that seem to be keeping him going is what the world expects him to be, and his pride and sense of adoration and love for his family. That’s not enough to sustain a person, much less a child.

And don’t even get me started on his growing sense of emptiness and personal loss caused by his perpetual soul dissociation as a result of neglecting his spiritual needs- that’s a persisting problem that plagues him even when he is reborn in his new robotic vessel and takes on the identity of Gregory.

He feels like everything is spiraling out of control. He doesn´t know his place in the world- he doesn´t know who he´s meant to be. He feels like he has no say, no power, no control over how his future, and the future of his family, unfolds due to his severe lack of confidence and, by extension, decreasing self-esteem, which is harrowing to watch.

The aspect of life he struggles with the most is duty, purpose. He grapples with destiny on a spiritual level constantly, not believing that his life is within his control. He is afraid of who he is, and he does not have enough faith in himself to empower himself to truly believe in himself- to try harder, become stronger, for the sake of not only those around him, but himself.

So many other people have it worse… why is he being ungrateful all of a sudden? He has a pretty rich family, a nice neighborhood, and a great Uncle Henry alongside his “cousins” Charlie and Sammy. Food is on the table every day, a roof is above his head every night when he goes to sleep, school is going great, he loves his family and friends, everything is supposed to be fine! He’s supposed to be happy!

So why is this happening…? That is the question he wonders.

He tries every once in a while to confess this to his family, his father and mother and his siblings- now, don´t get me wrong, they´re not bad people or a bad family (William wasn´t truly bad at the time). They utterly, truly, deeply and really love him. But do you really think, with how busy and caught up with life they were at the time- William buried in his work, Eleanor taking care of Elizabeth, Michael navigating teenage life- that they were going to listen to him? Evan, the apparent ¨crybaby¨ of the family, who complains about Michael and his friends tormenting him, as well as the nightmares haunting him, every day? Would they, with their lifestyles practically orbiting around hustle culture, not once stopping to think about their own wellbeing and needs, listen to the needs of the middle child, bother to pay attention to his concerns?

There´s no doubt about it- he´s being denied validation and acceptance, and the resources needed to heal and maintain his happiness that he once had- he´s being denied support to actively take control of his life, to grow, mature, find his identity and take charge of his own decisions- his own destiny.

Evan everyday is being infantilized, pitied and patronized by his own family.

His family do love him, don´t get me wrong- not once have they neglected him… they just failed to properly understand what Evan was trying to convey, and consequently, they fail to understand the actual danger that ignoring his emotional and spiritual needs, as well as his corruption and contamination was doing to him. This is a symbolic representation of how refusing to confront your past- the ugliest and neediest parts of yourself, refusing to work on yourself and your growing maturity, and how the toxic need to remain ¨strong¨, can damage you further down the road- which is exactly what Evan did.

As a result, he grows more emotionally and spiritually poisoned, and his previous repression and withdrawal starts to have serious consequences on him- he starts crying and bursting into tears more easily, becoming more susceptible to bouts of fear and hysteria- lashing out at Michael more often in response to his pranks, possessing a terse and distant attitude towards his father and mother, being forced to take on a maternal role for Elizabeth, not having any true friends besides his neighbors and the acquaintances he makes at school, and most of all… being trapped under the illusion that he´s inadequate- that he’s not good enough for his family. That´s the eventual conclusion that his mind prematurely comes to. And what makes it even worse is that due to his dwindling faith in his ability and himself as a human being, he never bothers to be proactive and cognizant about how he can improve upon himself, despite the deep-rooted desire to work on himself.

Wouldn’t it be so much easier, so much better, to fall into the label society gives you? To effectively become what the world thinks you are, and nothing more? Nothing deeper?

After all, why even bother trying to reach your full potential? Why bother trying to be braver- to be stronger, to be better, to be more than what those around you say you are when you´re not good enough to take control of your own life, your own destiny, when you´ll never be good enough to even start trying?

As a sort of coping mechanism, one that evolves into a habit, Evan starts listening to Elizabeth’s troubles as he takes care of her. On a general scale, this evolving empathy and desire to help comes in the form of easing the workloads and burdens of others, such as helping his mother with dishes and cooking because he feels the need to- so that he doesn´t feel like a whiny burden and a disappointment to the Afton family name. I feel the need to remind everyone that the surname of “Afton” as the founders of both Fredbear’s Family Diner and Fazbear Entertainment would be incredibly famous within the town of Hurricane, Utah, and eventually across all of the United States after the founding of Fazbear’s Entertainment (given the circumstances of the outside world and Security Breach’s location, the Pizzaplex), so already being placed in such a position was putting a lot of pressure on his shoulders.

Of course, every now and then, he feels compelled to confess about the nightmares and his feelings to Elizabeth, but he knew that not only would she brush it aside or not understand it due to her young age, but that would shatter the facade he so carefully constructed just for her. What kind of older brother burdens their younger siblings, especially their younger sisters, with their problems?

On top of this, he becomes an important figure in Elizabeth’s life- for example, he encourages Elizabeth´s confidence further and pushes her to show her gold stars she got on all her assignments to her father and he actively listens to her rant about Circus Baby. But he also listens to her problems and internal strife on her worst days, and displays his love for her, empathy for her struggles, and proves and demonstrates time and time again that he will always love her no matter who she is and who she wishes to become, and will always support her. Most importantly… that he will always believe in her.

He, as an older brother and the oft patronized and infantilized child of the family, tries to prove his maturity and self-worth via providing the support and affection to Elizabeth that his family failed to provide to him as soon as he got older. Keep in mind that he is still a child, so events such as these would scar him incredibly deep- deeper than he would like to realize.

By the time we see him ingame, five days before the party, his life had essentially become a living hellscape- his mind was physically sick, not working properly on an actual biological basis like how a normal human brain should. The nightmares could practically be considered hallucinations at this point, and his neglect of his own spiritual and emotional desires and needs have prolonged for so long that they’ve started impacting his physical body in noticeable ways, i.e. insomnia, severe anxiety, and panic attacks.

His spiral has reached rock bottom- to drive the nail further into the coffin, he only has his Fredbear Plushie for comfort- Michael has begun to spend more time with his friends as they frequently ganged up on him to tease and bully and ridicule him more often than not, his father is practically engrossed in his work every day now that Fredbear’s Family Diner and Fazbear Entertainment has become especially popular, and his mother had already enough on her plate looking after their family’s needs as there were.

He wanted nothing more than to hide- for the storm inside to silence itself, for it to be clear, cloudless skies littered with the stars again. There’s no way this possibly could get any worse.

…It gets worse, doesn’t it?

Of course, of course! Of course it gets worse- when it comes to FNAF, it always does!

Because even before Evan’s death and reincarnation, his spiritual corruption began to impact his relationships, especially that with his big brother Michael on both ends. And he never gets to fully dive into the reason, until later, as to why.

And that probably is one of his biggest regrets, more than anything- that they couldn’t be there for each other, that they couldn’t explore and deeply understand each other better than what their prejudice and hubris would allow them to, to bring their hearts close together like they should’ve done all those years ago.

That they couldn’t confront whatever was thrown their way together… like they promised on that stormy night all those years ago.

Part 2- Older Brother Issues:

You’ve heard of Daddy Issues, and you’ve heard of Mommy Issues. Now I think it’s well past time you get ready for older brother issues- specifically, Michael Afton issues.

When they were young, the relationship between these two were untainted- sincere and pure. Of course, they teased each other- like, a lot- Michael would steal Evan’s plushie, but he would always return it. He would lock Evan in his room or sneak inside to jumpscare him whenever he walked in, but he didn’t have that stupid Foxy Mask on back then- one key difference. Even then, Michael didn’t give two craps about whether Evan liked him or hated him back then, not even bothering to think about such things- for all he knew, the moment he locked eyes with his younger brother as a baby, he loved him- deeply, dearly, overwhelmingly, inexplicably- something awakened within him, an instinct he didn’t know he had- to preserve, to protect.

They made a lot of promises between each other, shared countless secrets between each other, as many as the wonderful memories they had. The bond they possessed was deep, like a healthy mixture of a bond between siblings- brothers, and between a father and a son. They swore that they would be connected together forever, never growing apart.

However, as they all have learned the hard way- life tends to be complicated, more often than not.

Michael desired nothing more than for Evan to be proud of himself- to realize that he was a gift, existing as he was, for him to realize that the world was cruel and for him to defend himself, not accepting anything from those who desired to abuse his kindness and cheery demeanor (which ironically was lost as years went by).

He feared that he couldn’t defend his younger brother forever- the nightmares and spiritual corruption was something he surmounted to childish fears, something that further confirmed his troubles. Every day, their relationship began to become tainted and crumble apart further and further- fast forward to the years of 1980, and Evan is already way too deep into his spiral, and Michael has begun to distance himself from his father, and unintentionally, Evan, by spending time with his friends. Of course, he possesses a strong bond with them, and they’re good, supportive and close friends… but he is always tinged with guilt at the end of the day. Does he really hate his younger brother…? Does his younger brother hate him for lashing out at him so frequently? Is that why they argue… because he shows his true self in front of him?

And meanwhile, Evan is angry. He’s angry because of the love he still has for his brother, deep down amidst the neglected, blackened wasteland of a spiritual environment he has within him.

He resents the secrecy- the dishonesty, the lack of proper communication and proper self-care running in his family, the Aftons- painted as this picture-perfect neighborhood family to everyone around him, and meanwhile he despises such things with a burning passion because the smiles in the photo aren’t real. They’re hiding something.

He resents the stupid teenager things that Michael now keeps doing with his friends, things that continually and consistently patronize, disrespect and infantilize him- things that continually deny him of the validation, the acceptance and support of his own emotional and spiritual needs and the acknowledgement of the nightmares that continually plague him- the acceptance that he wants, craves and oh-so desperately NEEDS.

And yet, in all that time… Evan never really hated or even disliked Michael. Reasons for such things can vary, from refusal to let go of past memories and therefore past perceptions of his older brother, to a steadily deteriorating sense of self and an already low self-esteem disguised as humility, but even then, Evan always looks at Michael with so much pride and adoration glimmering in those eyes of his, always viewing him through rose-colored glasses and always looking up to him as a role-model to follow similar to how Elizabeth views both Michael and him. He wishes to actively seek out his love, approval and affection, but at the same time… even Michael’s mere presence imposes fear onto Evan- a fear of rejection, of humiliation, of being bullied or scared or teased again.

Evan feels as though Michael won’t accept him for who he is- he won’t see him in moments where he is true to his heart, emotional and vulnerable, and take care of him and love him nevertheless like he wants those around him to do with him.

One of the things he despises is Michael actively seeking him out, using his status to assert dominance over his younger brother in order to bully him and get away with his actions with Evan being forced to dismiss it to his peers, his other sibling, and his parents as “normal older brother behavior”. Their conflict, when taking this into account, is largely one-sided- Evan only ever reacts in a hostile way whenever provoked, and, even though it goes against his best wishes, tries to avoid Michael whenever he can.

The kind of warped mindset that drives this sort of behavior could most likely be that Michael needs an outlet to take his anger out on, so he inclines proclivitively towards Evan as his punching bag since he sees himself as a superior and domineering figure over Evan’s currently timid and submissive personality- it is a warped, twisted kind of relationship driven by corrupted love and fear, with Michael internally wishing that Evan could simply “be braver and stop crying”, being blind to Evan’s internal struggles and being completely oblivious as to what is truly going on beneath the surface.

Then again, he’s not the only one to blame for his insensitivity… within Evan’s family, the Afton family, who wouldn’t be to blame for his first undoing before his rebirth?

Part 3- The Meaning of Pain:

I’ll go ahead and confess when I say that I find the nightmare animatronics absolutely horrifying. I mean, I’m average height, and these fuckers are already, like- what, a whole three feet taller than me? Poor Evan over here is only 4’5, and these stupid demon hallucinations are already out here looking like they can swallow me whole, let alone a terrified child like him.

(Please do not make fun of me /j, it took me two days to beat the final night of FNAF 4. I still possess the burning desire to sock Nightmare Fredbear in the nose in real life to further cement my hard-earned superiority over him.)

When I decided to further study into the appearance of the nightmare animatronics, the description of their physical appearance I found on the wiki page was quite interesting, and served as proper and thorough breakdown of what otherwise would be incomprehensible nightmare fuel:

“Most of the nightmare animatronics are featured with a deteriorated appearance with a big series of rips and holes all over, sporting a total of ten fingers with spike-like claws/nails, an excessive amount of long dangerously sharp teeth (found in both the structure of the animatronics and the endoskeletons), and small metallic eyes. Their endoskeleton heads look suspiciously similar to that of a human skull, with a line of indentations down their forehead (FNAF Wiki).”

This, in and of itself, is a clear sign that these animatronics were not made for Fazbear Pizzerias- couple that with their grotesquely sardonic and bloodthirsty behavior, reminiscent of that of feral beasts starving and scavenging for food, and boom- good luck sleeping for the rest of your nights.

Within the universe of Project Samsara, the nightmares possess erratic behavior- sometimes they show up, and sometimes they don’t. However, if one notices closely, this irregularity worsens the further Evan’s paranoia and hypervigilance heightens. When it comes to these nightmares, he’s no longer able to differentiate between hallucinations and dreams- nighttime becomes especially torturous for him as a result.

The whole thing is basically boss music faintly playing in the background while he can´t tell why it´s playing. Yeah, that´s certainly a way to live out your life, isn´t it?

While these hallucinations could be metaphorical for how the FNAF 4 tormentors, Michael and his friends Dorothy, Elijah and Andrew, bully and ridicule him in the real world- these nightmares are also a sign of severe and detrimental spiritual corruption.

It’s absolutely critical, imperative that the soul is kept safe and healthy at all times, evolving at the pace at which the physical body does, to avert emergencies such as soul loss or to prevent the self from self-destructing upon physical death.

Consequently, his family and his friends don’t yet know the sheer, actual danger that these nightmares pose to Evan’s wellbeing and himself as a whole.

Nightmares in today´s culture are associated with deeper, more psychologically rooted fears that tend to cast a silent, barely noticeable shadow over the individual of whom they belong to- they are often a twisted reflection of darker thoughts and worries, partially inspired by day-to-day events taking place throughout daily life. If not handled properly and with care, these nightmares can escalate into hallucinations that tend to ¨bring to life¨ the deeper fears, negative sentiments of the individual- these thoughts can also evolve into a poisonous energy that can corrupt the soul, and the spiritual blood, the remnant (alternatively called ether or anima in ancient times) flowing through it.

In the case of Evan, his nightmares have evolved into metaphysical, lucid hallucinations, and the remnant residing within his atman is corrupted and being rendered virtually useless due to the emotional muck inside, prevented from being cut off from spiritual and emotional support networks in order to properly mature.

You all may remember saying in one of my past posts that Evan posesses an extreme phobia of springlocks and the matrices of machinery in the animatronics, which appear to be heavily accentuated in the nightmares. On the other hand, the behavior of the nightmares and their laughs/taunts may be a reflection of how ruthless the FNAF 4 tormentors can be when they´re teasing him.

They are a representation of Evan´s greatest fears- his origins, parts of his childhood that have been twisted and corrupted into a barely recognizable version of what they once were- he continually runs away, not only from his fears, but from his identity- he isn´t able to exactly grasp why this is happening to him, why he´s suffering such a crisis, why he’s so scared.

They are a culmination of his worst thoughts- not being good enough, being powerless and vulnerable, being in a position where people can easily hurt you, the fact that society will never let you grow, mature and change, that the world around you will forever infantilize and patronize you and never accept you… the fact that you will never take charge of your own destiny- never carve your own path, create your own future- the fact that you will never come to terms with your own identity… that you will figure out just who exactly you are, let alone accept it.

¨You´re never going to find inner peace. You´re never going to be more than what you are. You´re never going to be braver, stronger. You will never find yourself… be yourself. You will never be at peace with yourself- you will NEVER find peace.¨

This dilemma effectively places him into a situation where his unfulfilled and neglected spiritual and emotional needs and his desire to grow and mature and care for himself on these levels are conflicting, aggressively clashing, even, with his self-image and lack of self-worth, as well as the stereotypes and expectations the world and his family have imposed onto him by infantilizing him and patronizing him, whether it be through his parents dismissing his concerns or Michael and his friends bullying him about his ¨crybaby¨ nature.

His kindness and desire to protect, empathize with and care for and help others are muffled as a result of this, and his carefree nature and ability to genuinely trust others are all but gone- sure, he still loves people endlessly, and he can still be charitable and generous, but none of those deeds possess any heart to them anymore. This is just how deep the scars have cut him. This is what his steadily declining life has done to him- this is how it ruined him.

Had he been emotionally damaged further, he probably would´ve developed a mental illness or two.

Not to mention the plethora of physical difficulties he’s already facing, including irregular sleeping patterns and forced insomnia as well as a fluctuating appetite and his explosive, poorly suppressed hysteria episodes and mood swings- both his mental and emotional state as well as his physical state would´ve deteriorated alongside the state of his spiritual health, the nightmares would´ve been giving him heart difficulties, seizures and panic attacks, his brain would´ve started to display symptoms of a failing body, such as frequent memory loss, excessive crying and mood swings, extreme physical weakness and fatigue, among other things- and eventually…

He would´ve self-destructed, resulting in premature death.

I feel the need to remind you that Evan is only ten years old?

And these nightmares are a metaphysical hallucination, a manifestation of his deepest, darkest fears, repeatedly telling him that he needs to STOP- that scraping the bottom of the barrel to sustain your basic physical needs isn´t enough, and that he needs to explore and confront himself and the expectations of the world around him in order to truly discover his identity.

Compared to real life, having an identity crisis might not result in your health declining, but if it prolongs perpetually, it can result in severe mental illnesses developing.

Believing is seeing, after all. He believes these nightmares are real… so why wouldn’t they be real?

Maybe it is all in your head, maybe it isn´t, since the brain is a physical organ capable of becoming sick or breaking down like any other organ in the body- but it´s just as painful a cut or a bruise, and it can be just as dangerous if you leave the wound there, festering and waiting to be infected.

And that´s exactly what Evan does, and it bites him back so hard that he regrets everything. Yeah, I mean everything.

Part 4- The Flower Withers:

By the time we see Evan in the minigames, he has descended into a former shell of what he once was- he is tired of ignoring himself for so long, tired of being disrespected, of being ignored and infantilized and invalidated time and time again.

His body is physically suffering, and his entire family is overlooking him and his symptoms of his spiritual and emotional negligence. His core´s metaphysical manifestation is a black, stormy wasteland of his own resurfacing fears, nightmares, self-doubt and negative thoughts- the spiritual blood, the remnant- the ether, flowing through him is utterly clogged with this emotional dirt and muck- his brain simply can’t work like it used to no matter how hard he wills himself to try, and the fog clouds his mind and judgement.

The smiles he gives to Elizabeth and to his mother are tired and lightless- the formalities he exercises with his father is just him going on autopilot and letting his body walk around the eggshells at this point- every interaction physically tires him whilst no one is there to see his mental deterioration. He can’t find the strength to actually reprimand Michael and his friends, so he just doesn’t care about the teasing anymore- why even bother when you probably deserve feeling these things, when you probably deserve being teased because of feeling such horrible feelings?

Evan has been reduced down to his base instincts, his primal emotions by the time his birthday rolls around- he cries when sad, and smiles when happy, but even those emotions are less sincere than they were before. The happy and cheerful demeanor he puts around his family, and the calm, levelheaded one he puts around his elders, other relatives and acquaintances, are nothing more than elaborately constructed facades.

His life had devolved from this hopeful, imperfect and yet utopian paradise to, simply put, his own personal hell- all he feels is nothing but the emptiness that has been there since those years ago, when everything started to crumble, as well as the crushing sense of shame and guilt in who he is- the penetrating, overwhelming fear that had become what the world has now expected of him- what the world continually shamed him for, what he always falls into without fail, never bothering to subvert expectations or break this awful cycle.

So it is when Evan dies- when five whole years of disregard and disrespect rebound in on and crash straight into his family’s hearts- his family, who had just begun to wonder if they were loving him in the wrong ways… that his spirit refuses to bend, refuses to snuff itself out of existence- refuses to die.

And as a second chance being granted to Evan, partially because of William tampering with remnant and his remains in order to construct a new physical, cyborg-esque vessel for him- a new, reincarnated android body: and partially because of Evan’s own past regrets, as well as his own immutable willpower and love for his family, memories and past life, he has one thought on his mind: he doesn’t want to die- he can’t die.

And it is through these factors that he defies the cycle of life, death and reincarnation- the endless cycle of natural Samsara. His soul grants his wish to live- his wish so strong that it transcends lifetimes, transcends universes, is basically a desperate plea for salvation at this point… and it does this by triggering a last-ditch attempt.

A failsafe.

Normally the consciousness and spiritual core are both wiped clean and eradicated/discarded upon a living being’s premature death, as seen with the Missing Children’s Incident victims. However, Evan’s case is different.

The consciousness and spiritual core start by detaching itself from the psyche, the soul and the heart, as well as the shadow temporarily disconnecting from each other, breaking the close-knit bonds formed between the two entities composing the self. When it comes to Evan, his new vessel also contains borrowed life force- remnant, also called ether, the part of the spiritual body that needs sustenance in the form of food and drink, like the physical body does.

After the soul splits in two, like some sort of reverse-mitosis process, the memories, the personality, and the emotions associated with said memories are purposefully “corrupted”, or scrambled/garbled to prevent damage to the consciousness. They are then stored deep in the back of the mind, the process resembling what happens when an overworked computer resets and reboots.

Both the entities of the vessel and the spirit are finally reset and put into a sort of sleep mode to recover their power and energy. Meanwhile, the shadow continues to be tied to the physical realm, also put to sleep and wandering amidst the earth until the day when the vessel wakes up again.

When the physical vessel containing the consciousness finally possesses the energy required to reawaken, the mind must actively work in tandem with the body to recover the scrambled memories in order to remember their previous life and earthly attachments that kept them tethered to the plane of the living and mortal existence.

New goals also begin to surface post-awakening as more and more memories begin to take hold, such as the goal of the physical reincarnated vessel to search for the spirit, as well as the shadow and any other possible remaining fragments and links to the past that may repair previously done damage.

Such a process can be extremely painful, and yet also liberating once it is done- the deep, dreamless slumber that Evan was thrown into for nearly sixty years whilst his new body still recovered, and as his soul began to possess Golden Freddy alongside Cassidy’s soul did wonders to his mental and spiritual state, slowly undoing and recovering from the corruption and emotional muck that was defiling those fragments of him.

Whilst the things tainting his soul are not fully eliminated by the time Gregory, the reincarnated vessel, awakens and sets out on his own to accomplish his determined goals, such a deep self-cleansing process was ultimately very necessary and inevitable- otherwise, all fragments of himself would’ve self-destructed, and he would’ve ceased to exist from this world altogether- he would’ve been truly dead.

So, now that that’s out of the way… now that he’s awoken from such a deep, half a century long sleep… he’s left wondering one thing, the feelings of unavoidable emptiness persisting still.

What is my purpose… my destiny? What was I created for?

…Who exactly am I?

Part 5- Starting Over:

Okay. The failsafe worked. Everything worked- everything went according to plan. The memories were encrypted and stored in the back of the mind for both safekeeping and later retrieval, and both separated segments went to sleep as a part of the reset sequence- the soul didn´t self-destruct.

The consciousness and identity are present within the computer chip stored within Fredbear, which in turn is stored inside Gregory- the reincarnated robotic vessel meant to serve as the new body, while the formless spirit is stored within the Fredbear animatronic. Everything is okay, everything is fine.

So… what now?

Well… when Gregory awakens for the second time after the events of Software Instability, he is… confused, to say the least.

Memories have not yet begun to return to him, but questions are starting to surface to his head amidst the fuzziness and the pain: Who am I? What was I even built for in the first place?

Within this universe, Gregory is well aware of his true nature- that he´s not normal, that it would be dangerous if he met anyone and revealed his secret to them at that present moment.

Gregory at this point is lethargic, beginning to suffer the effects of exhaustion and starvation, even though he´s been asleep for nearly sixty years to recover his energy. There´s no food in the room, save for a few pieces of expired, wrapped up Sundrop candies and a disgustingly warm and overly carbonated bottle of Fizzy Faz- a serving of meager portions that he begrudgingly accepts as his meal.

After eating, I like to think that he tries to explore, only to trip and unceremoniously fall into a wooden box filled with writing utensils, unlit candles and sticky notes. His consciousness hasn´t fully returned to him, some of his most crucial fragments still asleep in the back of his mind- he does not yet know how to read, write, or draw in normal alphabetic characters.

And yet the first thing he does when he glances upon the myriad of strange supplies he falls into is take out a pastel-turquoise coloured sticky note, click the pen he now grasps in his hand, faintly feeling along it´s texture, and writes something, watching in fascination and awe as the ink carves itself into the paper, writing intricate characters of binary:

01110111 01101000 01111001 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101001

Translating to: ¨Why is I?”

As in the question of ¨Why am I alive? What was I created for? What, or who, am I meant to be?¨ Again, a recurring question that pops up in Gregory´s mind time and time again. He doesn´t know how to write like he used to, even though he doesn’t know how he used to be. And yet, he feels as though such things should be obvious to him, almost blatantly obvious. He´s frustrated- how bothersome! It is as though he knows, and yet he doesn´t. Why must some things be so obscure?

Either way, he is tired- thinking drains a lot more energy than he would expect or like, so he merely curls up, lies down, and goes to sleep. And for a couple of days, his daily routine remains the same as his first day trapped within the sticky note room.

He behaves almost akin to a small, semi-docile animal holed away in its den. He hunts and scavenges for any food that may be hiding away in the safety of his sticky note room, sniffing out food, and he continues to sleep when he´s not scavenging in an effort to gather energy.

(No joke- in my AU this robot ate a decaying rat one day).

Gregory is confused, disoriented and scared- scared of why this is happening. He actively writes on other sticky notes over the days in crude, haphazard and barely legible binary strings- "Hide." "No Hide."

A depiction of a perfectly punctuated plan.

For the longest time, this is what seems like the life of Gregory- scavenge and hunt, eat, sleep, scribble occasionally on the notes in frustration after nothing comes to him, then rinse and repeat.

That is, until he receives his first vision in the form of a lucid, psychedelic nightmare.

The smell of decay lingers on his nostrils. Every time he closes his eyes, there´s a strong sense of vertigo, as if he´s free-falling, perpetually adrift through a chasm of abyssal, infinite black steeped in the soft glow of the embers of twilight and dusk.

He recalls once more- he falls through darkness and flies through light- body aflame and alight, burning brighter the stars, the fire never going out.

An obelisk, a triad of birds encircling the top above as the clouds swirl at the tip, glistening and as sharp as the end of a sword. The black, impeccably smooth obsidian surface reflected obscure, cryptic hieroglyphs carved painstakingly into the surface, the surface prismic and iridescent with flecks of color visible on the cold metal.

A sarcophagus entombed deep within the ground, outside the reaches of the ever-changing world.

A once clear sky littered with the stars speckled across the countless celestial bodies spanning across heaven´s black, now clouded with storms and lightning. The water´s surface yet still remains serene as the thunder crackles in the distance- butterflies of pure light flutter around him as far as the eye can see, and seemingly luminescent lotus flowers tickle his toes as they float lazily atop the surface of the endless ocean, perfectly still.

The trinity of the triskelion tingles with a faint sensation of a perplexing, scalding heat, engraved on the back of his neck that he noticed just now. Beads of sweat form unto the back of his neck- not being able to tell the difference between artificial and real anymore, he doesn’t bother to wipe them away.

Alone, slumbering in the space between now and forever, he drifts.

And that brings him to the question… why? What sort of cryptic imagery that made his heart ache and throb could possibly invoke such emotion, why were the past and futures he never bore witness to somehow in his mind?

He digs deeper- even though the effort tries to rip him apart, he continues to dig, shuffling around desperately in the back of his mind for an answer. He has to know, he NEEDS to know!

A few days of a bone-deep ache later, like hard coils of chains were wrapped tightly around his head trying to asphyxiate his brain, he finds something amidst the blackness of the mist enshrouding his mind.

The surroundings enshrouded in light- three figures smiling with joy and pride at the magical little thing below them, full of warmth and life, babbling its first breath into the waking world.

“Daddy?” a young boy speaks in a thick British accent- a voice some emotion was tied to. “Can we keep him?”

“He’s your brother, Michael,” an older, more smoother voice responds. “Of course we can keep him.”

The lights flash and distort- the colors invert, and Gregory is back in his room again- no longer feeling warm or full, how the memory made him feel. The loneliness and the frigid, gnawing sense of emptiness is eating him from within once more. He tilts his head.

He feels the name roll around and off his lips, forming itself into existence from nothingness as it vibrated in his throat, echoing and cushioned in his mind by hazy fondness. “Mi…chael. Michael.”

Hm- how curious… as far as he knew, none of those mechanics were named Michael.

“Who’s… Michael?” the young, brunette robot boy stutters his thoughts aloud with what limited speaking ability he possesses at this point. Who could this strange ‘Michael’ character possibly be to him? As far as he knew, Michael was a stranger- a name he hadn’t met. Whoever could he be?

And yet… a strange sense of deja vu- a great depth of emotion was tied to the sight of him. He felt pain and love, longing and regret, fondness and admiration, and all things in between, continuing to gaze into the boy’s ocean blue eyes swirling like glimmering, sun-lit currents gazing so lovingly into him, cradling him in his arms with the promise of protection and eternal love.

A love bound and sealed by blood and soul in kind. Transcendent above lifetimes- an unfettered promise to endure forevermore.

Gregory sighs, rubbing his throbbing temples and letting a sigh seep through his clenched teeth, exhaling out his frustration… until his posture shoots ramrod straight, eyes wide, palms unfurled.

“He’s your brother, Michael.”

That figure… that figure looking down upon him- was he referring to…?

No, no- that couldn’t be.

His entire body quakes- the ground spins like gears beneath him. The word echoes in his head, cushioned by the hazy clouds and condensated pillows of disbelief.

Brother. Brother brother brother.

He’s family. An older brother.

MY older brother.

Another word flashes to his mind- a surname. Afton. Michael Afton.

Hasty and tripping over himself more times than he can count, stumbling frantically with every step, he scrambles to another sticky note- a purple and a red one, respectively, before he whips out the pen once more and begins to scribble and write every thought in his waking mind, converging and then dispersing like the dewdrops glimpsing the first morning light.

¨You are Afton Family.¨

Followed by a set of two smiling faces on another sticky note.

Hours of sleeping and laying dormant in his nest later, yet another face comes to mind- the face of a fair skinned girl tinted with a peach blush and translucent freckles underneath her cheeks, donning a ginger shade of blonde hair and glimmering green eyes glistening with gemstones of chartreuse and the purest jade.

He scrambles to the last sticky note to draw a third face.

His beloved little sister, the third face. Elizabeth Afton. The three siblings, together and happy.

Gregory´s heart swells from within with a strange ache of pain and longing, crackling and flickering like a firework from within. When was the last time he had seen them… where were they, at this present moment, if they were not by his side?

He begins to draw more- a house on one sticky note, to provide a roof above their heads. A semi-crude map to Fredbear´s from their house to the doors- not that he knew why these places were special to him, anyways- but more and more memories were beginning to take hold, coming back to him.

Soon, nearly the entire room, even the floor he walks upon- is covered with a thin sheet of sticky notes with haphazard, childish musings of a past life scribbled onto them. He adorns them with lit candles, the melted wax sticking to the polymer paper and the gentle golden glow illuminating the otherwise dim and dilapidated room- as if this were a sacred place.

If so, then the heads of the decommissioned staff bots that fell down the chute nearby must’ve been offerings, he silently mouths to himself, chuckling at the positively silly thought.

More and more days pass, days that Gregory doesn´t bother counting- not when he had more important things to do, like remembering. Days stretch out into weeks, the time within illuminated by his frequent pastimes of drawing, programming, writing, creating countless things despite the ache in his stomach wailing for food like an infant animal. Weeks stretch out into months, which probably extended into a year or two. Over time, the stench of garbage and rusting metal becomes the stench of a new home.

Seven tally marks- seven faces, all for his friends.

Three slices of cake, one for him, two for his siblings. Three slices of pizza as well.

Words repeated three times- home home home, fun fun fun, play play play.

Gregory had almost forgotten how cake tasted in his mouth- the salt and grease of classic cheeze Pizza, takeout from Fredbear´s Family Diner. He ponders the whereabouts of his plastic blue toy telephone, the Fredbear Plushie he would always carry around.

His soul longed to be whole- to return home. To his real home- his house, his neigborhood and community and town of Hurricane, Utah- like he totally didn´t just remember that two seconds ago.

Family. Family family family.

The back of his eyes hurt, throbbing with a dull ache that pierce and penetrate his temples as if someone were poking him in the head rather brutally and insistently. His fingers run through his hair, attempting to mitigate the effects of thinking so hard.

Where could it all have gone wrong…?

Where could it have all fallen apart?

He gets his answer on the day he can hear a party going on upstairs- the party for someone obviously not him.

Not him.

Gregory blinks. A grave mistake.

A flash- the lights, the balloons, the stage. Black linoleum floors sprinkled with rainbow confetti, the posters of colorful animal mascots plastered on the walls.

¨I can´t believe you need a girl to defend you…¨

He blinks again.

Shoved against the muzzle of a bear- tears blurring the sides of his vision, heavy against his eyes. Blue, green, yellow, red- the lights above the stage as the world comes crashing down and collapses beneath his feet. His feet, dangling above the floor.

The party was all for me.

¨You heard the little man- he wants to get even closer, haha!¨

What…?

Pleas for mercy- screams that beg for a life to be spared. Miscellaneous voices in the background- the commotion trying to observe what was going on at the stage where Fredbear remained singing.

¨No! Stop, I don´t wanna go!¨

¨P-Please, Michael, I´m scared!¨

Wails, followed by laughter.

A crunch and a thud.

…

Red against matted golden fur- the laughter and squeals stop, the room is dead silent.

All for me.

He blinks again- an action he pays dearly for.

Gregory falls through darkness, he wings through light- he zips through countless pasts, presents and futures before the unceremonious thud of the floor befalls him and he loses sight of everything he´s ever known- the world crumbles into ash and blows away in a nonexistent wind, as if the hole in his heart had been scooped out that very moment.

One moment, he´s a prokaryotic, single-celled organism floating amidst the creation of life born anew, awakening from dreams amidst a moment of stillness in the relentless chaos and fire.

Another moment, a butterfly whose wings had been clipped no longer, as he was free to fly away- his wings every shade of all the colors in the world, alight.

The next moment- a boy being screamed at by his father, disciplined over running away from home because it was too much and he was crying all the time.

No gravity, no light, no sound. Endless, vast and incomprehensible nothingness.

Gregory blinks yet another time, and the days have passed, the sticky notes already having the events from those horrific, psychedelic nightmares drawn on them. ¨God,¨ he whispers, practically croaking the words out- he doesn´t know why he´s invoking such a name, perhaps to draw on the strength of whatever creatures dwelled in the primordial lands above. His fingers trace over the triskelion-shaped mark indented into the back of his neck- the tips ghosting across every intricate detail possible.

His eyes blur- and before he knows it, he´s screaming.

Shrieking with laughter and hysteria, with grief, with pain and lost love- of the rifts in his heart that deepened with every sob that tore itself loose from his throat and ribs, as he cried so hard that his chest began to hurt.

Every memory in his mind- the screams he didn´t realize were coming from him- his own throat, his own lungs. He curls into his knees, pressing his fingers to his sternum, his knees to his forehead, heels to his buttocks and screams into the dampening skin slick with tears.

No, no, no, no, no.

You´re just a problem with no solution- an over-emotional brat and an embarrassment to the Afton name.

His Father´s voice. He lets out a primal growl crossed with a high-pitched whine of distress, the sound animalistic, nigh bestial.

He covers his ears, skin slapping against his temples as he cries his surroundings away, the ground beneath and sky above melting, until there was nothing left but him and the sticky notes, and the starry abyss encroaching all.

Just let it out.

Let it out… and then let it go.

He screams.

Even as he boxes up a poster perfectly for Fredbear’s Family Diner, even as the silo of the perfect, spitting image of his family sits before him- arranged like a family at dinner, a recreation of all he ever had, all he ever wanted- he continues to cry.

After all, he has always been a crybaby- his heart too big for his body.

So he places it outside in a box for his family- the statues, in a place where no one can see.

The perfect plan.

Part 6- Duty-Bound:

Evan.

Evanescent.

His name means transience- fugaciousness. His very name means the brilliance of every moment that casts a shadow of the lingering past.

When the blossoms are in season, pure and in bloom, and the spring butterflies fluttering, coming alive abound- whether they be crawling from their cocoons born anew or migrating back home, Evan is always reminded of their transient beauty.

The ever-changing nature of individuals, the false constant that is names- the ever-changing identities, likes and dislikes of human beings as his people question what they are, what their purpose and their creation, their nature is on earth.

The lotuses float on the ponds in the new and unfamiliar environment, where the grass is verdant and lush, the morning dew dissipating- yet another sign of transience, he thinks to himself as he peels back the leafy wrapping of a spring roll his older brother got him from one of the nearby food stalls. He sees and embraces a world mired in impermanence- where every life lost is a crack in Mother Nature´s heart, where every second counts, where every fleeting moment matters more than anything else in the world.

If nothing else, we have the present moment.

And even the moments illuminated within those now-dreams, the faint scent and gentle, warm embrace of the glow of memories grow further closer and yet further distant.

The butterflies come forth, nestled amidst the branches of their home where they once dwelled as caterpillars gnawing on the leaves and drinking in the early morning dew like dehydrated men.

The white blossoms and pure lotus flowers aflush with faint, rosy specks of pink- they glimmer underneath the pale moonlight, cutting through the darkness of the midnight like the galaxies and stars, celestial bodies reflected in the twilight yawn of heaven´s black: and it is then that Evan has the same dream.

His family is with him- his mother, his father and his two siblings. His heart is happy, his stomach is full.

Underneath the sky and upon the earth… he is at peace once more.

And now, more than ever, with even his primal, innermost desires unsatisfied, those moments are what he desires. Perhaps, deep inside his heart somewhere… those carefree, perfect days of being a happy family together had not ended for him.

Somewhere, mired in this world of impermanence- this perfect, eternal body longs for the ephemeral moments of the past. For his soul to be whole again- for his family and home to be unbroken once more.

And yet, as snow thaws and melts come the emergence of spring flowers, taking root within the soil… as those same flowers wither and shrivel upon the arrival of blizzarding winter storms… things are always subject to change. Just as things change in this world, he too, must awaken from this dream of eternity and stillness, to the world mired in transience- of both destruction and creation, of tragedy and miracles.

He too, must change.

With every step he takes forward, every silent breath he huffs out as he clambers to his feet- something stirs within him. Perhaps the beckoning echo of fond moments spent with all he ever loved and treasured, the desiderata of bygone yesterdays carved within his mind.

The call continues to entrance him, the lust of life evident within every beat of his heart from deeper inside.

And as the butterflies too, escape from their cocoons to awaken from rebirth into a new world in a beautiful new form, to fly to a new home so soon: Evan, too, must embrace the new, ever-changing backdrop of the world- this new form, this new identity.

¨My name is Gregory.¨

Gregory. The english variant of Gregorios, anglicized.

Vigilant, watchful and awake. Aware of all. Unwavering, unshakeable and unbreakable, will forever enduring and indomitable come whatever challenges shall try to stagger him, lead him astray.

No longer shall he show shame, show fear. There the memories linger, day after day, pushing him to take charge of his own destiny, to overcome the grief and pain, to overcome all.

Pushing him to overcome.

Gregory now deems it his responsibility to seek out the same happiness and peace he lost, the life that was so tragically ripped from him alongside his dignity, his family and home, and his humanity- so long ago. He doesn´t know what changed over the passage of time, but he merely accepts it and moves on like mature adults would do, seeking to merely find peace and live out his life once more.

Time leaves wounds, and yet heals them too- the cycle of seasons persists forevermore, engaging all life in perpetual death and rebirth of perfect harmony.

All things must be born, grow up, and die, only to repeat. Nothing remains permanent, not even the blackness of death.

Evan remains within him, like the memories of the distant past. This day, too, shall be the day when he emerges from the cocoon- the day that Gregory was born.

And so he sets out to recreate his life anew, to make use of this miraculous second chance: to ensure that whatever may be the cost, no matter what comes in his way, no matter how difficult things will get…

He will crush all obstacles underneath his heel and continue to move forward to his dream- his unshakeable, unchanging dream, enduring forevermore.

To find his new family, to live out and entrust his new dream unto the future like all those before him have done, and like he should´ve done.

¨I´m so proud of you, Gregory,¨ he whispers to himself with a fond smile on his face as he slides on the blue striped shirt alongside the socks and shoes he got from Glamrock Gifts. He shudders in pleasure and delight as he rubs his arms- no touch present to comfort him other than himself. ¨You´re so mature… so grownup, now. You´ve come so far. Keep going- keep trying. You can do this.¨

It´s not about the things you can or cannot do, after all, he reminds himself. It´s about the things you must do- it´s about your duty to the world, the legacy you wish to fulfill and leave behind- the dream you will entrust to everyone who comes after- in this case, to your new life.

There are things that you have to do, no matter what.

He grits his teeth and pushes forward, the flame forever burning, brighter than the stars. And amidst it all… he continues to persist, to live. Nothing is immutable, but…

Despite it all, it´s still him. When he looks in the mirror, it has always been him.

And it shall be him, enduring forevermore.

Part 7- To The Ends Of A Dream:

I think I´ll cut to the chase and give the short version before launching into the long explanation here: Evan, or rather, Gregory, becomes a walking contradiction to himself post-awakening and post-remembrance.

Though he is artificial, he is alive and can breathe. He hungers and tires, bleeds and breathes, laughs and cries as humans do.

Though he was once kind, a boy of deep and sincere faith, that faith has since been warped and twisted beyond compare. And as he has once carried himself with a timid and sensitive posture, always trembling and whimpering, now it is as though that facet of his mind had been all but stripped away, reduced to ash in the wind.

Grief and love have changed him- he feels as though it is HIS PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY, from then on, to put his family back together.

After nearly five months of grieving, on that day, he somehow wipes his tears away and pulls himself up by the boostraps, finding the willpower to take initiative and give himself the courage and strength boost to do what, in his eyes, was absolutely imperative to be done.

By the time Gregory ¨leaves the nest¨, he primarily leaves the safety of the sticky note room in pursuit of three main goals:

To find the shadow and spirit to complete his form. He serves as the physical vessel of which the consciousness, life force (in the form of stolen remnant) and the identity are sealed within via a mixture of technology and presumably dark supernatural magic of sorts, indicated by an elaborate triskelion mark on the back of his neck as well as tiny, several and barely readable runes encircling the mark. At present, Evan Afton has been split into the shadow, the spirit and the vessel- his present goal is to reunite with these aspects of his self to be ¨whole¨ again.

To reunite with his family: GregEvan is a very family oriented person, often forging and creating strong bonds with the people he trusts. Naturally, when he loses his family (despite his complicated relationship with his siblings and spiraling spiritual and mental state at the time of his death), he is devastated upon learning about this when he reawakens from slumber. He wants to ¨recreate¨ his family, finding a suitable ¨substitute¨ for an older brother and younger sister, as well as his father and mother, living out that ¨found family¨ trope to fulfill his own happiness, as well as theirs, to combat his crushing loneliness and torment. Arguably, this can be seen as a bit selfish, but can you really blame him? He´s a kid. He thinks he´s finally accepted loss of his family and wants to find a new one, since that´s the conclusion a ten year old would arrive at.

To find and retrieve a new home, including claiming back relics of the past. The loss has scarred Gregory so deep that he actively searches the Pizzaplex in search of territory to claim- the Afton Family silo on the nearby table is further evidence of how he wishes to recreate his family and home. He´s basically living in the past at this point, even though he´s under the strong delusion that he´s accepted the past and moved on by trying to ¨find new happiness¨, as he is under the impression that his family is dead, or has forgotten him and moved on.

Gregory is, at this point, under the influence of the strong belief that the ends always, ALWAYS justify the means, which is the driving force behind all his actions- that he will do anything, and he means ANYTHING, to squash every obstacle underneath his heel that poses a threat to his life and to his family, and that could potentially prevent him from cultivating and nurturing his dream. Someone who doesn’t share his proclivities of directly and swiftly crushing and wholly eliminating obstacles to further your own progress regardless of collateral damage caused can find it easy to critique his methods, understandably.

¨I don´t support jumping to those conclusions of yours. I won´t fall to you.¨

Gregory, as a result of his goals and how his trauma has changed him, develops a strong sense of responsibility and duty, as well as an impressive willpower and unbreakable, resilient spirit from this mindset of ¨whatever it takes¨. He acts reserved, despite being outwardly brash and overtly arrogant at times, and he takes his responsibility and his “work” immensely seriously.

This trait is a double edged sword at its simplest description- on one hand, it grants him an able and strategic mind with the newfound and exemplary computing power and intelligence he has, willing to form elaborate plans to eliminate his obstacles to whatever short term or long term goals he may have.

It grants him an unshakeable drive and will as his goals continue to endure and remain unchanged despite the tumultuous environment around him, or even all the odds working against him. Even when each day feels like trying to escape a warzone, he endures and remains steadfast, dignified and unwavering in his pursuit- an honorable trait to have.

Most of all, as cheesy as it sounds- he never gives up hope. He never abandons the possibility, no matter how small, that there is always a way to work towards your dream and your deepest desires.

However, any virtue can turn into a vice. The willpower and sense of responsibility and duty Gregory develops turn him headstrong, obstinate and mistrusting, as seen in thee game. For the entire time Gregory carries himself in a terse, restrained and apprehensive manner, he becomes apathetic to the pain and struggles of the other animatronics, entirely unaware that they are under his father´s control- again, expressed via the darker side of his vigilant, mercilessly judgemental demeanor.

Even despite his starkly contrasting empathetic attitude towards Freddy over losing Bonnie, he holds the other Glamrocks in extremely low regard and even occasionally relishes holding a position of power over those who hurt him or wrong him. He arbitrarily declares them as threats to his livelihood, his future, his family, and his dream and his goals, and thus eliminates them without any forethought for their wellbeing or magnanamity towards their condition and considerable suffering post-shattering them.

He couldn´t care less about them, saying that their actions are inexcusable, and goes through with destroying and scavenging their parts anyway to upgrade Freddy: Gregory even lies through his teeth to his older brother about where he got the parts from, thus indirectly hurting his feelings deeply when Glammike finds out the truth. However, he does feel guilt and anxiety regarding this a bit later. As steadfast and unwavering as his commitment is to his goals, he is also rigid- not caring about the obstacle in front of him, or the collateral damage that he´ll cause by getting rid of it to further his pursuits- all he knows is that it poses a threat to his life and his dream, and he must eliminate it. He steadily grows obsessive, ruthless and cruel in his pursuit, and such sentiments also bleed into his behavior.

He keeps and treasures signs of his true nature, his heritage and his purpose- the LED on his temple. His unique blue blood. The triskelion ‘birthmark’ on the back of his neck. The sticky note drawing of his three siblings that he keeps in his back pocket, occasionally taking it out to kiss it and cradle it close to his chest as if cuddling it obsessively, further highlighting how emotionally weak and destabilized the near-crumbling child is.

Additionally, one very disturbing thing I’ve noticed about Gregory is that his intelligence is highly of that beyond what a normal ten or twelve year old would possess.

For one thing, he possesses a significant amount of technological knowledge to the point where it’s straight up odd, being able to hotwire a car, recharge Freddy with a car battery, and also being really savvy with computers- something of a phenom, as a certain therapist in the tapes would say.

This might be because of the nature of his creation and rebirth as a synthetic android vessel, hence in my AU extending it to flat out slight cyberkinesis, but it is still pretty disturbing.

Gregory also has immense creative and intellectual abilities, being able to take what paltry information was given to him in the emails left by the S.T.A.F.F. and piece the clues together to reconstruct scenarios and plans. He was then able to efficiently gather materials for said plans to decommission the animatronics, ruthlessly and cruelly using underhanded tactics to enact the constructed scenarios with near-perfect accuracy and impeccable execution.

And, interestingly enough, despite all his pent-up problems, despite all the emotional turmoil and obsession, anxiety and suffering and agonizing self-hatred eating away at him thorughout the game… he’s not insane while doing such things.

No, Gregory’s the opposite of insane when crafting and executing these plans. He’s… sentient. Tactical, intelligent, even, despite his inner rage. Ruthless and uncaring- indifferent and dismissive of the suffering of the animatronics whilst he is deliberately inflicting pain upon them. Even acting as downright cruel, saying something along the lines of:

“They get what they deserve.”

Of course, it was all in self-defense: but this, to me, shows something fundamentally non-human about Gregory, despite all his very human qualities in the masses. He has moments like those where he’s smart in areas where he shouldn’t be- truly robotic, dutiful and… terrifying. Like some force of nature.

Willing to do anything to carry out his mission. To fulfill his destiny, and to bring his dream to life, to fruition- and to eliminate and neutralize all obstacles that stand in his way.

Of course, he does retain certain aspects of his avoidant personality he once retained in the past, such as hiding from and actively expressing fear of the other animatronics and Vanny in the beginning, as well as his father, even to the point of crying out of fear as he once did.

His willpower also does not seem to restrict his creative potential by any means, evidenced by him deducing and recreating information of past events in the Pizzaplex, as well as formulating plans to temporarily decommission the other animatronics from what paltry information was given in the emails and S.T.A.F.F. messages as seen in-game.

It also does not appear to hinder his acceptance of blame, as he fully accepts responsibility post-game for everything he´s ever done and actively tries to make amends with everyone he´s wronged. However, his rigidity does spike his fear of confrontation, as he bursts into hysterics and tears whenever Glammike yells at him or argues with him. He also becomes intensely hostile in response to these ‘betrayals’- courtesy of bad memories resurfacing as a result of probably C-PTSD.

Gregory also is also irrationally upset whenever his set criteria and expectations are not met, and often berates either himself or external circumstances, as seen when he lashes out in anger at the Mr. Hippo magnet he recieves in game and expresses dismay at the machine eating his pass. This trait is significantly exacerbated by the fact that the more sincere, close and familial Gregory´s and Freddy´s relationship becomes, the more secrets they are forced to either share or keep from one another the more they learn about each other.

Gregory’s willpower also allows him to develop a sense of confidence and reassurance in himself, a sense of grounding and duty originally fueled by self-praise until Freddy comes along and becomes the best friend, older brother and father figure he so desperately needed. This temporarily dispels the mental corruption and deterioration present inside of him.

He also occasionally has a lighthearted demeanor on the rare occasion he cuts lose, cracking witty jokes and even laughing at some of Freddy/Michael´s bad puns.

And towards those he cares about genuinely, Gregory also expresses a strong sense of empathy, protectiveness and camaraderie, having a father/son and older brother/younger brother relationship with him (a combination of the two). He looks up to Freddy with nothing but admiration, sincerity and warmth in his eyes, eventually evolving into expressive affection and respect and pure love that only continues to deepen more and more- similar to the feelings he had towards Michael when he was still alive.

Because of this, he recognizes Freddy as a ¨new older brother¨. And since Vanessa (separate from her alter ego Vanny) reminds him so much of his little sister Elizabeth, he actively thinks of her as a new little sister, until he learns the truth about their identities.

He is also kinder towards Vanessa upon learning the truth about her and her circumstances, and ends up repairing his relationship and trust with Vanessa/Elizabeth, as well as Glamrock Freddy/Michael- he also seeks to respect Freddy´s wishes starting post-game as a result of the animatronic bear being the father figure to Gregory, and to follow his older brother´s example. He has the ability to recognize change and a good heart as a result of his improved sense of judgement of others, sincerely forgiving, apologizing to and approving of Michael after learning of all he did to prevent further tragedy and save the souls of everyone who fell victim to it.

Now, let´s go to the reason as to why he wishes to achieve these goals: well, because as for locating and recreating his family, it´s obvious that the trauma and grief have affected him to such an extent that he´s deluded himself into ¨moving on¨ whilst he simultaneously tries to recreate the past life and memories that he missed in his present life.

And as for reuniting all the components of himself, Gregory is in an extremely vulnerable state when his being is split into the vessel, the shadow and the soul. The vessel expresses this via feelings of extensive fatigue, hunger and starvation that gnaw at the back of the mind even when they´re satisfied- a perpetual reminder that he needs to get up and get shit done, perhaps.

The way that the physical and spiritual body and form work on a simpler-explained level is that the body, the shadow and the spirit is the complete entity, held together by the remnant, or the vital quintessence and life force that composes each living being- the spiritual blood is the complete manifestation of the person, hence why they cannot change forms like spirits of the deceased can.

Although the splitting of the soul is a safety measure- a sort of failsafe- upon death for those with unique circumstances like Gregory/Evan, keep in mind that he serves as the physical vessel with the consciousness, memories, spiritual core/heart, borrowed remnant and identity implanted into him.

One wrong move could potentially result in his destruction and thus the destruction of the entire being, resulting in him basically ceasing to exist- he has to remain hypervigilant at all costs in the face of any dangerous circumstances he may be in, in order to ensure his survival and the eventual reunification of himself. He needs to be EXTREMELY careful- calculating his every move, because one wrong misstep and he could meet his demise.

So, taking his stressful situation into account…

Can you really blame him for being a bundle of nerves? At least, in this universe?

***

When you peel back all the layers, Gregory/Evan is a good kid at heart, kind and witty, intelligent and a nice person deep down. He’s a fundamentally good, but extremely lonely individual, losing everything- having his life, his world, all he ever loved and cherished ripped away from him in the blink of an eye by some freak accident that happened on his birthday. He never gets the chance to grow up and live life like a normal kid due to his death and reincarnation, being reborn into a perfect vessel that he still feels incomplete in because of his fragmented soul, of which he has no idea where the remaining shards linger.

First off, on his birthday, his older brother, with whom he has a… complicated relationship with, to say the least, tries to shove him into the mouth of Fredbear alongside his three friends as a practical joke or some sort of funny prank that he could be the laughingstock of, only for the springlocks to fail and clamp down on his head, resulting in his body dying in the hospital. How rude.

To make matters worse, his body and soul were essentially violated and descerated to bring him back to life in some sort of robotic, heavily remnant-infused physical vessel with his consciousness, memories, spiritual core and identity magically sealed inside via some sort of dark supernatural sorcery- down to his blood, heart, bones, organs and very flesh by some upstart businessman and inventor who wishes to become immortal, and has somehow dragged his own son into the mix without any forethought or without his consent. How even more rude.

Then, he learns post-awakening and after retrieving his memories that he´s been locked into a deep slumber for nearly half a century- for nearly fifty seven years, sixty if we want to round: and that therefore, a lot of shit must´ve happened while he was asleep and M.I.A? Just how unreasonably preposterous must his circumstances get?

To summarize: Gregory is not having a good day.

He clings to what once was as a coping mechanism, delusioning himself into thinking he has moved on and accepted loss, thinking he must be strong and independent and self-willed, and that he must grow up for the sake of himself and his family. He possesses an intense dedication to family, growing overly attached to those he trusts, but is also ready and very much willing go to intense lengths to protect them, to preserve the reminders of the past, of what he once was and what little he has left.

Gregory/Evan also survived and endured months of starvation, exhaustion and crushing loneliness on top of lucid, psychedelic nightmares that left him screaming and shaking until dawn post-awakening when he got his memories back along with certified C-PTSD, and in the mindset of a kid trying to mature and find his identity, purpose, destiny, place and worth in the world he lives in, he takes it upon himself to raze every obstacle that stands between him and his goals, his dreams, to the ground.

He deems it his sworn duty to remain unflappable in the face of danger, to dispose of any potential threat to his survival, his life, his home and his family. Every action he does justifies the end result- the ends always justify the means, in his eyes.

This makes him narrow-minded, emotionally distant and apathetic to those he doesn’t care about, obstinate, weary of his circumstances and surroundings, and most of all, favorable towards using brute force and even sometimes cruel, underhanded tactics to swiftly and promptly crush his adversaries. He doesn´t take pity in the way Chica shrieks in the garbage compactor, how Roxanne cries after losing her eyes, how he basically incapacitated Montgomery- he´s too fixated on his goal, his survival, his trauma and the life he wants back. He even lies about it, wholesale making shit up about the decomissioning of Freddy’s friends: “Well, she’s still functional.” (line directed at Freddy referring to Chica).

Are his actions morally questionable and wrong? Yes.

Is he most likely cuckoo, has he lost his mind by this point? Absolutely.

But can you really blame him for doing so?

To be honest, he just wants to be left alone with his siblings and his found family- the people he cares about the most and, as demonstrated previously, would do absolutely anything for. He practically is obsessed with finding them, worshipping them at this point out of his grief.

Gregory/Evan has developed admirable qualities by ¨forcing himself to grow up¨- he isn´t exactly in the stablest of mental states by the time the main story of Security Breach rolls around, but he doesn´t take things lying down anymore.

Even in his past life, he was no coward. Timid and reclusive, sure, but he was and now still is faithful, devoted, commited with undying love and dedication to his family and his dream, his goals and all he loves and treasures. He´s not merely just some sad, pathetic, lonely boy who wants his siblings and parents back (excluding William).

And merely through faith in himself and flimsy self-reassurances strung together haphazardly, he constructed an indomitable will and an unbreakable spirit, enduring forevermore alongside newfound courage and strength- a new reason to fight, despite him crossing many lines in the process. Even if his future is dying, withering away, rotting to nothingness- he never gives up hope, never stops searching for even a brief flash of light in the encroaching darkness.

Those are qualities to be mentioned, honored and respected.

And, real talk- Gregory/Evan just wants to be happy. He just wants to be whole again, to be with his family again with no impending threat of danger threatening to rip him apart at any moment. He longs for a shoulder to lean and cry on, for someone to look up to and defend but also depend on- a parental figure. His entire reason for continuing to exist despite his unimaginable pain and sorrow is to find and recreate his family and his life- to protect and preserve what little he has left. And he´s willing to do anything, anything, to gain his life back- his life that was so unfairly ripped from his arms on what was supposed to be his happiest day.

He finds and begins to reconstruct his identity on his journey: his sense of worth, of purpose, of control and of destiny begin to rebuild itself along the way- he begins to partially mature, but his deeper, darker fears and his inescapable inner despair, shame and guilt influenced by his C-PTSD still are not yet put to rest.

And for the longest time… it feels like Gregory/Evan´s going to continue into this downwards spiral of unhealthy obsession and a rapidly declining mental state fueled by false hope for the future and a traumatic past…

Until he reunites with his older brother Michael in the form of Glamrock Freddy, without the two of them even being aware of each other´s identities.

***

Part 8- Forgotten Love:

A more simpler explanation is that by the time the main events of Security Breach rolls around, Gregory is deluding himself into believing he has moved on from his past while also simultaneously letting a fanatical, unrealistic desire to recreate bygone memories and his lost family get to him slowly, tearing him apart from the inside.

Like any other human, he falls victim to his own web of haphazardly crafted lies, arrogance and hubris, as well as his festering cruelty, rage and hatred towards anyone remotely hostile towards him. He also suffers from crippling paranoia and loneliness stemming from his PTSD, manifesting itself into the form of anxiety, depression and harrowing self-hatred from his trauma.

He´s still extremely lonely, stressed and tired beyond what can be taken for a child, his life becoming a constant and growing death threat looming and stalking closer via everything that wishes to inflict harm upon him- hence his obstinate, brash, self-domineering and headstrong exterior, with the terse and apprehensive manner to his words despite his kind, youthful and demure appearance.

Gregory still hasn’t gotten over his losses and the tragedy of his first death, temporarily pushing it to the back of his mind and refusing to acknowledge it to avoid incurring strong feelings of inner wrath, shame and sorrow. He’s willing to eliminate any obstacle for the sake of serving, nurturing and cultivating his dream as if its something to take care of- something that he NEEDS, under ANY circumstance, to bring to life- a twisted parallel he shares with William Afton, his father, both of them being enslaved to their goals albeit for very different reasons.

His false hope for the future is rotting, flickering out and dying, and yet he rekindles a used match half-burnt to ash repeatedly by convincing himself that everything will be alright if he stays the course (highlighting yet another twisted parallel, this time between him and Vanessa).

Gregory loves- adores and idolizes his family, missing them to the point where trying to recreate them becomes an unhealthy obsession born from his grief tormenting him, grief that he was incapable of processing and accepting on his own. He’s ironically idealistic, in a way- believing that transient life should be treasured and protected whilst it lasts, and being devastated at the prospect of premature loss since he’s experienced it firsthand.

He also believes that love and inner strength conquers all, and absolves him of whatever crime he commits in the name of his family, since he genuinely possesses good intentions behind everything he does. His love, longing and adoration for the past life he led, for his family and his friends back when he was alive, becomes not only a nostalgic trip, but also it becomes his unhealthy obsession and hyperfixation that gnaws at him from the inside out every day and leeches away his energy, forcing him to walk the murkier, darker side of himself.

In fact, Gregory deems it his only reason for existing at all. To reclaim what he lost so he can lead the proper life he was promised when he was young, naive and still alive.

And as a result, he has no qualms resorting to extreme measures to get what he wants, using brute force and cruel, underhanded tactics to swiftly and promptly crush obstacles and potential threats that may prevent or hinder his progress. He throws himself into his “work” as deeply as possible to escape and dissociate himself from the nightmare that his life had become, while also growing “closer” to achieving his goal, something he sees as a win-win situation for himself.

There is no mercy for those who try to hurt him or those he cares about- no forgiveness whatsoever, as they are often brutally dealt with (Chica being smashed in the garbage compactor, Roxanne being run over with a Go-Kart, Monty plummeting to his own destruction off the catwalks). He is often overconfident in using these methods, believing strongly that his enemies have no shred of hope or chance against the punishment he sees fit to mete out to those ¨foolish and arrogant enough¨ to stand in his way.

Gregory has no one in the beginning to help him cope, to help him accept and move on from the death of his past life and the separation of him from his siblings, resulting in an unhealthy need for companionship, for love and a sense of unfulfilled dependency resulting in him being secretly and severely touch-starved and suffering extreme empty-nest syndrome. There was no one to anchor him, to dissuade him from driving himself back into the abyss that was his demise so long ago…

Until Freddy rolls around.

When Freddy and Gregory initially meet, their relationship starts off a bit awkward. Freddy does have most of his memories as Michael just drifting around in his head, and often keeps it as a secret from the other Glamrock members.

We have to keep in mind that Michael is already an almost-fleshed out character by the time the events of Security Breach roll around, having already undergone most of his personal journey by the time the end of Pizzeria Simulator rolls around, which is why he so readily accepts his fate and lets his physical body die in that burning pizzeria. Freddy does miss his siblings, seeking to protect any kid from danger and show unfaltering kindness to them- it is in his programming, of course, but it´s also partially influenced by his evolving nature as Michael when he was alive.

With Gregory, though, of course, he feels… a special connection with him, as if something sparks within him upon meeting him- it must’ve caused the malfunction on stage earlier when he felt a foreign entity in his chest cavity during the performance.

As if his physical traits upon first glimpse of the young boy remind him of his younger brother- the dearest brother that he failed so long ago. Gregory, of course, feels the same way, being slightly reminded of an older brother figure- his older brother, Michael, before everything fell apart. and everything he’s ever known and loved melted into nothingness right before his eyes along with his past name.

However, Freddy soon begins to grow suspicious of the boy’s nature. His pulse, blood pressure and heartbeat seem all too perfect, too simulated to correspond to every situation accordingly for a kid in a stressful situation with animatronics on all sides trying to rip him to pieces. Of course, his emotions were real, and his appearance was perfect- too perfect, too real, and way too similar to his younger brother.

The gentle, unique and dark eyes reflecting glistening starlight in its wake, the wavy and tousled chestnut brown hair that took on a faint shimmer in its highlights, and the pale complexion adorned intricately with an apricot and peach blush that perfectly complimented his youthful, demure features.

Everything, from the petite, lithe and short body structure down to the button nose, high cheekbones and full cheeks, and plump lips, slightly roseate in tint.

The animatronic bear shakes his head- he’s seeing too much of Evan in this random kid.

However, even in disgrace, even when all hope seems lost- Gregory does not shame himself. He remains fixated on the light at the end of the tunnel- his goal, his dream, not once wavering or faltering, never giving up fighting for his survival: a quality Freddy undeniably admires, persistence. The brunette struggles a bit to show basic manners and accept help, but he is obstinate, self-willed and domineering, not to mention undeniably intelligent and creative: not to mention his surprising knowledge of technology and computers.

This boy is a bright young man with a bright future ahead of him! At least, Freddy once remarked of such things to him and the boy’s face fell into an expression of despondence. “Yeah,” was all he responded with following a heavy sigh.

How odd.

As per the protocol programmed in him, whenever the boy seems distressed, Freddy tries to provide him with encouraging physical stimuli such as shoulder rubs or head pats. Kids would usually giggle and laugh as a response, but Gregory merely awkwardly reciprocated such sentiments by rubbing and patting the large metal paw back. Hm- perhaps he felt it was an obligatory duty to thank him via such silent expressions?

Freddy´s facial features droop a bit- was his performance in providing an emotional outlet for kids less than exemplary at the moment? Oh, well- it might have been because he was on emergency power.

Meanwhile, Gregory, by this point, is NOT OKAY. He´s neglecting his needs again, keeping secrets to himself, suffering in silence while longing for companionship, intimacy and love with no such secrecy, and no such conflict. Ever since his epiphany, he is prone to irrational and wantonly violent and even near-homicidal thought processes- he is a walking contradiction of himself, desiring trust and yet not trusting anyone. Freddy seems to, albeit slowly, mitigate the severe, deep effects that trauma has on Gregory via his companionship. Instead of pouring further salt on the wound, he begins to treat it.

At first, Gregory seems terse and apprehensive, reluctant and mistrusting of Freddy due to his circumstances. However, as evidenced by the game, he begins to open up more- Freddy becomes less bookish, adhering to protocol and robotic, whereas the boy becomes kinder, more carefree, and more trusting and empathetic, whilst still retaining his strong, unfaltering dedication towards those he loves.

In addition, the two contrast each other well- Gregory provides hope and comfort for Freddy due to his ironically idealistic nature and his unbreakable, unshakeable spirit and willpower, whereas Freddy does possess this same belief, yet it is a bit more mellow. Freddy is much more pragmatic and straightforward, despite his sweet and entertaining nature in his programming, grounding Gregory to reality and providing him genuine, solid and true reassurance via actual hope that he can believe in.

The two serve as the ¨light at the end of the tunnel¨ for each other respectively, in a way. They give each other hope and a new reason to exist by reminding each other of someone they once loved- and as a result, their affections for each other deepen and evolve into something more intimate, familial and strong over time.

This is the last family Gregory is capable of finding, the last bond he can build- a last chance at redemption, if one will.

I’ve already pointed out how Gregory is unfalteringly loyal and dedicated to those he trusts and loves, and is also willing to do anything for them due to his nigh-unhealthy obsession with recreating his friends, family and his past life. His goals are strongly fueled by a steadily growing fear of loss motivated by the threats all around him, as well as a sense of justice and a desire to right all wrongs. Reviving the happiness, humanity and dignity that has been brutally ripped from him via accomplishing his pre-set series of goals seems to be his only objective at this point, of which he absolutely deems imperative that he gets done. The thought of destroying and hurting others to get what he wants is something he frequently entertains, and their pain and suffering is something he can’t really give less of a shit about, to be frank.

However, once Freddy opposes the idea, suddenly Gregory feels anxious and guilty when destroying and decommissioning Chica, Roxanne and Montgomery- not because he’s suddenly aware of their pain, but because he’s aware of Freddy’s pain and how much he cares for his friends.

And this is where even more of his uglier qualities come into play- he sees his older brother in Freddy, a true parental figure- his family in Freddy. And because of how much the android boy has grown to truly care for and deeply love the animatronic bear, he begins to grow jealous- protective and secretively possessive, almost.

He’s jealous that Freddy cares more for his friends than, what he perceives as, his own younger brother, though Freddy remains unaware of Gregory’s true identity until much, MUCH later. Most of the time, he merely lets his raging fury within be dampened and restrained by the quiet rain of tears inside, longing to feel the phantom sensation of a large metal paw holding his hand whenever he’s alone, apart from Freddy.

With his darkest, overshadowing fears not yet put to rest, Gregory begins to grow alarmingly clingy, immoral and headstrong in an attempt to seize his destiny and bring his dream to life. His most fanatical, paranoid, dishonest, ruthless and obsessive traits come out at this point, and though they are not conventionally expressed like in other obsessive characters, they’re still there.

I also feel the need to point out Gregory’s positive traits: He’s very strong, figuring out most of his identity, his purpose and who he’s meant to be in the form of fleshed out goals. He’s obstinate, self-reliant and possesses a will of steel and an unbendable, unbreakable spirit that cannot be shaken in any way, shape or form. Though he’s been eroded at by constant torment and trauma, he still retains his ability to show an impressive and heartwarming degree of comfort, empathy, compassion and kindness to those he loves and deems as family. Even in disgrace and crushing loneliness, even in humiliation, he is no coward, and through his myriad of expressiveness and emotion he remains unflappable and unfaltering- he never, ever gives up on what he believes in, never stops fighting against impossible odds to bring his goals to fruition, to protect and care for those he loves, trusts and cares about. He succeeds in bringing new meaning to the phrase “love conquers all”, and utterly brings shame to those who call idealism “hilariously outdated and mediocre”.

Freddy acting as an emotional anchor and parental figure to Gregory is ultimately what brings out the worst of himself, but it also brings out more of the best of himself- and, despite all his immoral actions committed throughout the game in the name of his family and dream, it is all aspects of himself that triumphs post-game and helps him to find his destiny and sense of worth and self- to cope, accept and find happiness and inner peace upon being reunited with his family.

Freddy’s presence stabilizes Gregory’s emotional turmoil, and eventually revives and reawakens something Gregory had more or less lost- genuine care and trust for individuals other than his friends and family, and a true willingness to accept and fully embrace change with everything he is. His enduring love for his older brother, reborn in a new form, broke down the armor and dulled the agonizing sting of trauma left on him by his past, and allowed him to be fully and truly reborn.

In the end, it is Freddy’s/Michael’s love that more or less saves his younger brother and fully rounds his development, healing him from his torment and his suffering, putting his fears to rest for good, helping him to accept, forgive and embrace all of himself so he can put the past behind him along with the rest of his family and start a new life.

Truly like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon to soar into the night- the transformation that all humans can undergo is beautiful. In a way, the moment Gregory can let go of his trauma and find several new reasons to live, to embrace and be his true, full self in the moment and be at peace with the rest of his family and live his best life is a touching moment.

It is the moment he’s finally set free.

18 notes · View notes

bestworstcase · 4 years ago

Text

farran rereads lost lagoon: chapter 13

- *sigh* dahlia.

- i’ve got to admit, at this point i really just... don’t care. about these characters. my vague memories of thinking this was an alright book but not really my cup of tea and with some very questionable moments wrt to the handling of the saporian issue have morphed pretty rapidly into. i flat out do not like it. there is no aspect of this story that i’m enjoying. the characterization is poor, the plot is falling down, there’s no tension, the prose is passable at best, and i’m getting very tired of reading conversations that feel like they were written by an AI. so i’m going to press pause here, because i don’t want this reread series to just turn into me bitching about the things i don’t like, and do a little autopsy.

let’s talk about varian and the seven kingdoms for a minute.

for the uninitiated, v7k was a varian-centric tts spinoff comic proposed by a couple of tts storyboarders, which disney chose not to pursue. it was developed as a fan project for a while, fell by the wayside for other projects. semi-recently the plot outline, some worldbuilding notes, and character concepts were all made public and the crew members involved gave the fandom carte blanche to do whatever with it.

now! the interesting thing about v7k, and the point of this little tangent, is that because much of the development process happened during s1, a lot of the worldbuilding is contradicted directly or indirectly by tts canon and some of the characterization choices feel... incongruous with the way tts s3 ended. i’m not going to get into that too much, but it seems to me that v7k and lost lagoon have a problem in common, and that problem is that they are stories that diverged from the main trunk of the story that inspired them but are still pretending to be canon compliant, to their own detriment.

some of you may remember og bitter snow, which began as a pre-s3 speculative fic about what cassandra might have encountered in the HOYT and spiraled into a kind of cass-centric s3 rewrite... which stalled out about a quarter of the way into the story i had planned because i ran into a similar problem: i was writing a s3 au that was ostensibly canon-compliant for all of s1 and most of s2, but the direction i wanted to take the story just didn’t fit naturally on top of canon s1 and s2... my options were to start retconning things from canon after ~20k words of implying canon compliance, or to force the story i wanted to tell to stay within the boundaries set up by s1 and s2, and i didn’t want to do either of those things, so i stopped and started over completely from scratch with benighted.

v7k began with the intention of being licensed fanfiction, and lost lagoon is licensed fanfiction, so they both needed the disney stamp of approval, and that meant they couldn’t take the revamp bitter snow approach of going ‘my city now’ and just changing whatever pieces of tts they needed to to make their own stories make sense. they had to fit their stories into the canon framework as best they could while ignoring or glossing over the inconsistencies and pretending it all fit together in a logical way.

and i think this is why lost lagoon is so very boring.

lost lagoon is marketed as a prequel to tts s1, but that’s not really what it is. only the first third of the novel actually takes place before tangled: before ever after. the rest of it is supposed to take place in the empty spaces between episodes of s1, and—because this is licensed fanfiction that needs to meet a certain threshold of being plausibly canon compliant—that means it can’t do anything that would meaningfully disrupt the story of s1. the events of lost lagoon cannot be big enough to influence any of the episodes of s1 that take place concurrently. the plot of this book must be absolutely self-contained, or else the thin illusion of canon compliance falls apart.

hence: rapunzel has no problem keeping the lagoon a secret from everyone, despite her refusal to keep the black rock excursion a secret mere pages later. hence, the ultimate reveal that the secret ‘power’ hidden in the lagoon is that it represents shampanier’s and der sonne’s love. it’s hard to have an interesting plot about intrigue and mysteries and such when you have to tip-toe through a series of light-hearted fluffy character establishing episodes instead of just writing your own story.

so i do have some sympathy for ms howland. i do. i think she probably did the best she could, story-wise, within the restraints that were imposed on her by the existence of tts itself. i would probably write a boring story given those same restraints to.

*deep breath*

- anyway, cass and rapunzel do market stuff, the dahlia jealousy subplot gets seeded, and then we head to xavier’s, where he shows them some daggers whose key features are being extremely light and able to “cut through armor as though it were paper.”

no 💜

- blah blah they ask xavier about the henge(?), it’s a saporian “ceremony circle,” blah blah. they show him the lost lagoon book and he waxes on about how rare and special it is and how “even those cartographers who made it their life’s mission to chart every inch of this kingdom” couldn’t find the cenote that cass found in a matter of hours because she is just! that! special! gag.

- xavier gives the date of the saporia-corona war as “more than two hundred years ago,” which i am taking to also mean “less than three hundred years ago.” i had actually forgotten that the gave a semi-hard date for all this nonsense so. ha. ha ha. ha. this is fine

- in this telling of the tale, shampanier steals der sonne’s journal with the intention of using the tunnel maps to invade the capital city, but she finds his confession of love at the end (“he was head over heels for this strong, intelligent woman” GAG). frankly this makes a teeny, tiny bit more sense than the story as told in under raps, where shampanier and der sonne duel for hours before she... randomly reads the journal? but then again—if shampanier herself infiltrated the coronan palace to steal herz der sonne’s personal journal, why did she not simply assassinate him in his sleep?

- xavier describes shampanier as “the ruler” of saporia, implying saporia was an autocratic stratocracy. remember this. it will be important later.

- der sonne and shampanier’s marriage heralded an “era of unity” during which they “joined the countries together to create corona as we know it” and there was an “explosion of romantic poetry” during this time, with the lost lagoon being “one that really captured the people’s imagination.”

- the only thing i’m going to say about the saporia stuff for the time being that is that if this doesn’t scream conquerer propaganda, i don’t know what does. but we’ll get there, don’t you worry.

- they are interrupted by the entrance of xavier’s assistant, marco, who is so transparently a bad guy that i really can’t do anything but laugh. xavier is like the ancient power is definitely one hundred percent not real and cass immediately bustles rapunzel out of there because she’s annoyed, which is fair, i’m also annoyed.

- there is a character named monsieur lafleur and i am choosing to believe that this man is tromus, because this book is sorely lacking in the demons department.

- queen arianna randomly walks in at the end of the chapter to make cassandra nervous and remind us all that cass is worried about her role in the black rock excursion getting out. i resent this scenelet because it reminds me that i could be watching tts instead. i miss tts cass. a lot. but anyway that’s the end of the chapter.

#lost lagoon reread

12 notes · View notes

thecassadilla · 4 years ago

Text

Of All the Apples

Pairing: Kristanna

Word Count: 3,752/AO3

Summary: Though Kristoff is uncertain about his relationship with Anna, he agrees to go apple picking with her, where he is forced to confront his feelings.

Author’s Note: Though Kristoff is uncertain about his relationship with Anna, he agrees to go apple picking with her, where he is forced to confront his feelings.

Author’s Note: Okay, so there may be a teeny bit of projection here - I really wanted to go apple or pumpkin picking at some point during this month. I doubt it’ll happen, so I may as well just write about other people doing the things that I want to do, right? Anyways, for some strange reason this was *incredibly* difficult to write - I think I revised it 30 times. I still don’t know if I’m completely satisfied, to be honest. I don't even know if it makes any sense?? But I'm just going to post it anyway. Enjoy!!!

Hearing the doorbell ring had become a familiar and expected sound. Every single day, around the same time, Anna rang the bell and patiently stood on Kristoff’s doorstep. She waited to be invited inside, even though he had told her multiple times to just come inside when she felt like it. He left the door unlocked for a reason, after all.

“Come in!” he called. He heard the door open and close from where he was, and dainty footsteps made their way towards the living room. In no time at all, she had made it to the couch, quietly collapsing into the empty spot next to him. For some reason, it made him think back to the first time they had met.

He remembered it like it had happened yesterday instead of a year ago. He’d just moved into his new rental - the tiniest house on the street - which happened to be right next door to the grandiose mansion Anna and her sister had inherited from their deceased parents. Anna, still very much a stranger at this point, had shown up on his doorstep with a store bought box of chocolate cupcakes. After apologizing profusely for not baking them herself, oversharing about her lack of skills in the kitchen, and apologizing again for assuming he’d like chocolate, she handed him the box and welcomed him to the neighborhood. That very day, he fell in love with the girl who lived next door.

She walked into his life on her own volition and for some reason that he couldn’t understand, she kept coming back. Since their initial meeting, much had changed. Before he knew it, she was spending more time at his house than she was at her own, and they were sharing intimate conversations and passionate kisses. Their relationship evolved before his own eyes - from neighbors, to friends, to starting an incredibly fulfilling sexual relationship.

Despite the fact that he was completely and utterly in love with her, he spent nearly every waking hour convincing himself that she’d never want to be more than what they currently were; that every shared moment between them was some form of pageantry as opposed to something very, very real.

Instead of believing in the possibility that she could be as in love with him as he was with her, he attempted and failed to keep her at an arm's length; she was intoxicating and it was too difficult to stay away from her, no matter how much he knew that it would hurt when it ended and she moved on with someone else. So, he kept his feelings to himself and never defined their relationship.

But today, something was off. She wasn’t acting like her normal, perky self; she was quiet.

“What’s wrong?” he finally asked.

“Nothing is wrong per se,” she answered with a sigh. “But I have a question for you and I think that I already know what the answer is going to be.”

“Go for it,” he encouraged her.

“I know you hate going places, but I really want to go apple picking tomorrow, and I was hoping that you’d want to come along with me.” She gave him a hopeful smile, batting her eyelashes at him.

Though she always attempted to make plans with him outside of the house, they rarely went out in public together and when they did, it was only to the grocery store. He was too afraid to be seen with her because in his eyes, a guy like him didn’t deserve a girl like her. “Oh. I don’t really think I’ll be useful -”

“You’d be useful!” she insisted enthusiastically. “Because you’re so tall! And I would really love to go with you. Can you please come apple picking with me?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Somehow it was the best answer that he could come up with. He didn’t have a real reason to say no, but he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to say yes, either. He cleared his throat. “Elsa’s busy?”

She forced out a laugh. “Bold of you to assume that Elsa wants to spend her day off with me.”

“I’m sorry,” he frowned.

Any hope she had quickly melted away and her shoulders slumped in defeat. “It’s okay, I get it. I can go by myself, I guess.”

She moved to stand up, and acting on an impulse, he grabbed her hand, knowing that he may come to regret it. “Wait!”

She turned to face him. “What?”

“If it’s really that important to you, then I’ll go with you.”

She hardly gave him a chance to finish before she was throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Kristoff!”

He awkwardly patted her back. “You’re welcome.”

She pulled away suddenly. “Oh crap, I forgot my phone charger at home! I’m just going to go grab it and I’ll be right back, okay?”

He nodded, and she smiled before rushing out of the house.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He wasn’t sure what time she had snuck out of his bed that morning, but she was gone when he woke up just after ten. She hardly ever woke up before him, and it was even more unusual for her to have left at all. He rubbed at his eyes a few times before reaching for his phone, and sure enough, she had sent him a text explaining her whereabouts. She was right next door, in her own house, getting ready for their excursion. He sighed, knowing that she must have been extremely excited to have gotten up so early when they weren’t even leaving for several more hours.

So, he climbed out of bed, aware of the fact that for the first Saturday in a long time, Anna wasn’t with him. He had grown used to their sleepy weekend mornings together, half-dressed and sitting at his kitchen table with plates of pancakes in front of them. Without her there, he followed his weekday routine; he ate, showered and got dressed, keeping it casual with jeans and a black t-shirt layered under a red flannel. And then, he waited.

When the time had finally come, he went out and stood by her car, hoping that she’d be out soon. His jaw nearly dropped when she finally did. Clad in a grey v-neck sweater and light wash skinny jeans, she paired the outfit with ankle boots. Her hair was half-up, half-down and softly curled.

“Hey,” she smiled when she saw him waiting. “You ready to go?”

“Born ready. You look great, by the way.”

“So do you, I really like that flannel. You should wear red more often.”

“Thanks,” he blushed, looking down at his shirt. “Aren’t you worried about getting dirty though? We’re going to be walking around in the dirt.”

She laughed. “I don’t plan on rolling around in the dirt.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to ruin your shoes or something.”

“It’ll be fine,” she assured him, before unlocking the car doors and tossing her purse in the backseat. “Climb in.”

He did as he was told, sliding into the passenger seat.

“This is kind of a rare occurrence, huh? Me driving you somewhere,” she observed aloud as she started the engine. She crossed the seatbelt over her lap and glanced over at him.

He shrugged. “I like driving.”

“Yeah, but you’re not my chauffeur. I should drive you around more,” she remarked. “Which would mean that we’d have to go out more.”

He shook his head. “I don’t...we shouldn’t -“

“Oh god, do you think I’m a bad driver?”

“What? No!”

“I swear, I’ve only gotten one speeding ticket in my entire life and I wasn’t even going that fast.”

“Anna, your driving is fine. I was just going to say that you don’t have to worry about driving me around because we shouldn’t really be going places together.”

“Okay then,” she responded, noticeably taken aback. “May I ask why you think that?”

“It just seems like a bad idea.”

“So going to dinner after this is out of the question?”

“We could order takeout,” he suggested. “Or I can cook for you.”

She muttered something inaudible and for a few miles they sat quietly, listening to the radio. He stared out the window and admired the fall foliage, hoping that the day would go by smoothly.

Anna finally spoke up when they were about a mile from the orchard. “So, I want to get enough apples to bake a pie -”

He snorted. “You? Bake a pie?”

“Yeah,” she answered confidently. “I know I’m not great in the kitchen but I’ve never made an apple pie before and I want to try. I could really use your help.”

He glared at her. “Do I look like I’ve made an apple pie before?”

“No, but you’re more competent in the kitchen than I am.”

“Cooking is straightforward. Baking is precise. You mis-measure one ingredient and the entire thing is ruined,” he explained. “That’s why whenever you mention wanting dessert, I always go to the store and buy it.”

“I know the grocery store sells pre-made pie crusts. We can stop there after the orchard, and then that’s one less thing to worry about.”

“I did a little research about the orchard that we’re going to and they sell pies in their store,” he pointed out. “You can save yourself the stress and just buy one.”

“But what’s the fun in that?”

“I guess that’s why we’re going to a farm to buy apples and not to the grocery store,” he remarked, rolling his eyes.

“This is what people do in October. Apple picking, pumpkin picking, corn mazes. It’s fun!”

“They do that stuff to get likes on the Internet, too.”

She didn’t answer, but simply pursed her lips.

He sighed. “Let me guess, you want me to take pictures of you for Instagram?”

“Maybe.”

“Why don’t you stop at a Starbucks and get a pumpkin spice latte to pose with while you’re at it?”

“Rude.”

“It’s what people do in October,” he said, mimicking her sentiment from moments ago.

“Stop criticizing fall, it’s my favorite season. And I’ve never had a pumpkin spice latte, so ha,” she said, before sticking her tongue out at him.

“I’m not criticizing fall. I’m criticizing what people do in fall.”

“As we’re pulling into the parking lot of an apple orchard, to pick apples.”

“Your idea, not mine,” he reminded her.

“You agreed to come, mister.”

“Because you need someone to grab the hard to reach apples for you. Remember?”

She shook her head, though a knowing smile spread across her face. “Can you at least try to have fun?”

“No promises,” he answered, a small smile of his own appearing.

The lot was packed with cars, but she was able to find an empty spot with ease. They climbed out of the car, and walked toward the picking area. The attendant at the entrance handed Anna a basket, provided some instructions for them to follow, and told them that the apples would be weighed for purchase when they finished their walk-through.

When they finally entered the picking area, Anna spoke up. “What should we do first? Apples or pictures?”

He shrugged. “Up to you.”

“Apples first, then.”

There were kids and families everywhere, running from tree to tree, snapping pictures, and chattering away. They walked side-by-side along the center path, trying to avoid bumping into the other people. After walking a few feet, her fingertips brushed against his and he bit down on his lip, trying as hard as he could to ignore it. She moved to take his hand in her own, but he gently pulled away and took a step to the side to create a bit of distance between them.

“Do you not want to hold my hand?” she laughed.

“Oh, um,” he started, looking down at his palm before offering it to her. “I do.”

She accepted with a smile, and laced her soft fingers through his. “This is really nice, we should do stuff like this more often.”

“Apple picking is a seasonal thing,” he remarked, trying to deflect.

“That’s not what I meant,” she giggled. “I meant we should go out more in general.”

“Hey, this tree has a lot of apples.” He pulled her toward it, hoping that it would distract her. He dropped her hand and motioned to the tree. “Pick away.”

“Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not.”

She handed him the basket, and reached for an apple that was hanging near her head. “Yeah, you are. Is something bothering you?”

“No,” he lied. She gently placed the apple in the basket before trying to take it back from him. “Only one apple?”

“This place is huge, we don’t have to get all of our apples from this one tree.”

“I’ll carry the basket for you,” he insisted, hoping that it would prevent her from noticing that they weren’t holding hands anymore. It didn’t work.

“Can you hold it in your other hand? Or should I just walk on the other side?”

“I’ll hold it in my other hand.” He transferred the basket and she immediately took his hand again.

They walked for a while, occasionally stopping at trees and picking a few apples before repeating the same routine. When they were approaching the last section of trees before the weighing station, Anna paused.

“Since we’re almost done and there aren’t that many people over here, we should stop for a few pictures now,” she said, dropping his hand and digging through her bag. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Yeah that’s fine.”

She dug out her phone and handed it to him, dropping her purse by his feet and taking a few steps towards the trees. He placed the basket down next to it before opening up the camera app on her phone.

There was no simple way to describe how beautiful she looked as she posed for the camera; between the sunlight that was bouncing off of her hair and the radiant smile that was spread across her face, she was absolutely ethereal. He was so entranced, that he hardly noticed that she was moving toward him and continued snapping pictures until she was much closer than before.

“Can I see how they came out?” she asked, holding her hand out. He placed the phone in her hand and she swiped through them. “They came out great! You’re a pretty good photographer.”

“I guess,” he shrugged.

She slid her phone into her back pocket and then held out her hand again. “Give me your phone, I’ll take a few pictures of you.”

“I don’t need any pictures of myself.”

“You can post it to your Instagram!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve only posted to Instagram, like, three times. I hardly use it.”

“It’s never too late. Don’t you want your friends to see what you were up to this weekend?”

“Not really. I don’t have a million friends to impress.”

“I don’t have a million friends and I’m not trying to impress anyone,” she scoffed. “I just think that it would be nice.”

“Which is why I took pictures of you for your Instagram. You don’t have to worry about me.”

She opened her mouth to argue back, but was interrupted when a woman approached them. “Hey, would you mind taking a few pictures of my boyfriend and I?”

“Of course!” Anna answered, accepting the phone from her.

The couple posed and Anna snapped a few photos before handing the phone back.

The woman looked through the pictures. “Thank you so much, they look really good. Do you want me to take a couple for you guys?”

Before he could say no, Anna was handing her phone to the woman. She grabbed his arm and dragged him back a few steps. Before he knew it, she was pressed into his side, her arm wrapped tightly around his lower back. He was unsure what to do with his own arms, and at the last minute, he draped his arm around her shoulders. He was positive that the pictures would perfectly encapsulate the tension he was feeling in his face, but he did his best to smile. After what felt like an eternity, the woman handed the phone back to Anna.

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate it,” she said to the woman, who smiled in return.

“Please don’t put those on the Internet,” he begged once the couple had wandered away.

“Why? You look great,” she said, holding the phone out to him. He took a quick look, and just as he expected, they looked way too couple-y for her to casually post it online.

“Just...don’t.”

“But we look so adorable! I want all of my friends to see it.”

“You’re probably better off just posting the pictures of you alone,” he insisted. “Your friends may get the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea?”

“You know, they may make assumptions.”

She looked up from her phone, and stared directly into his eyes. “What assumptions do you think they’ll make?”

He didn’t answer, instead choosing to look away from her.

“I need a legitimate reason for not posting this picture,” she insisted. “Tell me, what assumptions do you think my friends will make?”

He hesitated, thinking of how to properly phrase the thoughts running through his mind. “I don’t want people to think we’re a couple when we’re not. It’s weird and embarrassing.”

“We’re not a couple?” she asked incredulously, her eyes nearly popping out of her head.

He was suddenly questioning everything he was certain of a mere moment ago. “Are we?”

“I assumed we were! We’re always together, and you know all of my secrets, and not to be too candid in a public place but we have a physical relationship - oh god, have I been reading this wrong? Are we just friends with benefits? Is that why you didn’t want to hold my hand? Are you, like, embarrassed of me?” She blinked a few times, not taking her eyes off of his.

“No!” he exclaimed loudly, causing a few people to turn around and stare in their direction. Grotesquely aware of the fact that people were paying attention, he continued in a hushed voice, “I didn’t think you’d want to be my girlfriend.”

“Why on earth would you think that?” she squawked, raising a shaky hand to her chest.

He could feel his world crumbling around him. “I’m me and you’re...you. You’re amazing and gorgeous and funny and I’m a boring, grumpy homebody.”

“You’re so much more than that; you’re kind and caring and respectful.”

He took a breath, trying to hold it together. “I don’t think I’m as great as you think I am.”

“I’m in love with you, Kristoff,” she confessed suddenly, the words tumbling out of her mouth with little regard as to how they’d be received. “I wasn’t planning on telling you like this, but you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me and I need you to know that.”

Though the revelation had hit him like a ton of bricks, for the first time ever, he felt at ease with his own feelings. “I love you, too.”

“You do? You aren’t just saying that because I said it?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I mean it. I’ve felt this way for a long time but I’ve been too much of a coward to say anything, too busy convincing myself that you’d be better off with someone else.”

She was in his arms, then, squeezing as tightly as she could, her cheek smashed up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin atop her head. “You silly, silly boy, we have got to work on this self-deprecating attitude of yours. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry,” he grimaced, biting down on his lip.

“And for the record, I don’t think that I’d be better off with anyone else.”

He nodded against her instead of answering.

“I would kiss you but people are staring at us,” she said, pulling back slightly so she could look up at him but still keeping her arms firmly around his waist. “We should get out of here.”

“Good idea.”

“Can I please take you out to dinner tonight? I know you don’t -”

The smile on his face was enough for her to stop speaking mid-sentence. “That would be great.”

She heaved a sigh of relief, finally letting go of him so she could grab her purse and the basket. They walked hand-in-hand to the weighing station, where she bagged and paid for the apples they’d picked before walking back to the parking lot.

“Thank you for convincing me to come today, Anna,” he said as they walked to the car. “I’m really glad that I came.”

“I’m really glad that you came, too. And I’m glad that we were able to clear up that misunderstanding.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you like that. I spent a long time convincing myself that there was no possible way that you’d want to be with me, and it became believable.”

“I wouldn’t spend every single day with you if I didn’t want to be with you,” she assured him. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure,” he nodded.

“I’ve lived on our street for my entire life, and tons of people have come and gone, obviously. I can faithfully say that I have only ever welcomed one person to the neighborhood, and that was you.”

“Really? Why?”

She smirked. “I needed an excuse to talk to the cute boy who was moving in next door.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, feeling his cheeks warm up.

“I haven’t stopped bothering you since,” she said, matter-of-factly.

They climbed back into her car, and buckled their seatbelts before she started the ignition.

“And by the way, you should check Instagram,” she remarked, as she started to back out of the spot.

He dug his phone out of his pocket and launched the app. He had a few notifications, but the most recent one led him to a post that he’d been tagged in. Anna had posted the picture of the two of them with the caption: “All the apples in the orchard, and I’d pick him every time.”

He smiled to himself before liking the picture. “Would you mind sending me the pictures we took? I want my friends to see them.”

#kristanna #kristanna fanfic #anna #kristoff bjorgman #frozen #frozen fic #my writing

34 notes · View notes

tc-love · 4 years ago

Text

Erm I've had alot of issues trying answer this because I've never answered an ask on Tumblr ;w; I think I accidentally deleted the ask or something so I'll just have to tag the submitter. It was #2 on my ask list from @baeby-tc

"2. What's the most memorable moments you've had with your tc? ( ◜‿◝ )"

G and I talked after-school until he had to leave. It was about 45 minutes after the bell.

He was trying to show me something on his computer, and asked me to come behind his desk to see even though it was showing on the projector. I pointed that out but he insisted and I did. ^^ There's a good chance he didn't hear me or just needed to be able to see what I'm seeing, but I like to imagine he wanted me closer.

I did a very happy, awkward hand flappy motion while saying "I'm fine" in response to him habitually asking how I was. (smiling all gushy like cuz I was in a good mood.) And he did the little motion weakly back, with a kind of amused smile. Too cute ;w;

On the same day we talked for a long time after-school, I decided to ask him why he wore a suit once. He explained it was for a memorial the staff attended in memory of a staff member that passed away. (I already kind of assumed but wanted confirmation) He said "Also I just like looking nice sometimes." I smiled and really had to stop myself from saying "you always look nice."

He sat next to me when he didn't have to. There was a seat next to me that was open, a student to it's right he had to help, and on her other side was another empty chair. He chose the empty chair next to me ^^ I peeked at him a few times, one of which, he smiled at me and asked if I needed any help.

After-school, we had a teeny talk for about a minute or so about something school related I think. We both were friendly and I felt kind of bad leaving the conversation at that, but I couldn't really take it any further. However, as I was about halfway out the door, he drew me back into the conversation (smiling adorably >w<). I remember smiling at his want to continue chatting and sliding back into the classroom on the pushdoor. I still can't believe he'd intentionally kept me after like that. I don't know if he's lonely or just enjoys talking with me :>

Our first time staying after school talking to eachother for a long while, he gave me a little tour of the classroom. He showed me a lil posing figure, some nice hardware, and the thing I remember well, some story board papers. (For animation stuff cuz he knows I'm into that) His desk is kind of messy so he had some slight difficulty getting them to me which I found kind of cute. He let me have some of them for future self projects I guess? ^^ I never used them for that but I did do a little drawing of him for a holiday on the back of one (a happy accident).

When I got to see him before that holiday break, he had it in a frame with the bow I used to gift it pressed onto it. I felt very special because other drawings from different students were just there without a frame. Later, one did get their own frame but it made me really happy to be that special for a while.

Before an earlier break, he interviewed students in our class (and other classes of course) on camera with a professional setup for some school media stuff or something. I was very busy catching up because I'd missed some days and barely finished some while before the bell. I felt a bit sad that I wasn't a part of the process, but enjoyed onlooking it from the sides when I finished my work. But, when he could've chosen many other students or even let peeps volunteer as they had before, he called me. "(My name), get up here" (or something along those lines) with a wave of his arm and his head tilted. I remember the motion and sound of his voice vividly. It was short because the bell came soon, but very lovely. He talked to me about college and stuff and how he thinks I'll succeed. I showed him some of my art and smiled stupidly the whole time, sometimes hiding it behind my jacket sleeve. When it was over and the bell was almost here, he said "it's a shame," and smiled, pointing at the camera. I was confused. "It wasn't even recording." To be fair, he was letting the kids man it without any knowledge but wouldn't he have known? Either way the way he looked at me was unforgettable 💜

He confirmed that I was his favorite student of the period when I suggested I might be in the sign off of an email. "Your hopefully favorite (last) period student, (my name)

I popped in his class to get him to hang on to something big from a different class I didn't want to carry all day and he looked very surprised. He was the embodiment of Ô_Ô ??? And it was adorable. He just kind of stuttered an "okay" and held on to it. I left smiling widely, just as I'd walked in.

That was stupid lengthy (⊙_◎) Anyways, that may seem like our relationship is pretty close (and I'll admit, in hope, that it is at least a little better than a normal student teacher relationship), but I've had plenty of awkward and/or embarrassing moments with him. And he sends mixed signals. -3- These are just the nice ones. And @baeby-tc I would love to see you answer all of those questions! Tag me if you ever do ^^

4 notes · View notes

authorlmfletcher · 5 years ago

Text

For Adrien AUG-reste: Day 27

For @adrienaugust

Warning in advance: This story may require a supply of tissues.

If you prefer, you can follow along on Ao3 or on FFnet.

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26

__________________________

DADRIEN

Marinette chuckled at his silly use of words in his title for the entry she was reading. In truth, she had wondered when he was going to write about the kids because everyone who knew Adrien Agreste as a father knew that his children were his life.

The face of their newborn child is one of the most beautiful things a parent can experience - I know that now. I was blessed with that experience three times!

Emma was born a day past her due date. Marinette had been lamenting over the fact that she was still pregnant - her feet swollen and her whole self exhausted. I remember her deciding to take a shower so I decided to play some video games for a bit. We spent the afternoon just snuggling on the couch as she watched me run my character around doing quests.

I think her first contraction started around 4pm, but we waited patiently, sure it would take hours. Emma, on the other hand, wasn't really interested in hours. Poor Marinette. The next 2 hours were hard on her. Everyone kept telling her that she'd be fine and to just wait. She just lay on the bathroom floor saying she wasn't sure if she was dying or in labour.

The midwives came around 8pm. And at 8:20 - Emma was here.

My heart exploded. She was so small and so perfect. I had no idea something so little could be so loud. But she was so sweet.

I remember holding her and shaking so badly that Marinette told me to sit down so I wouldn't drop her. There, in my arms, was my baby. MY baby.

I don't know if Marinette ever realized how terrified I was. How I had nightmares about being my father - cold and distant and closed off from my children, controlling their lives instead of being part of them. Looking down at Emma, I made a decision that every single day of their lives I would be involved.

I had no idea how to do that. I had no idea how to do anything with kids. I'd never really been around kids. Marinette had to teach me everything, but I tried. I learned how to do diapers, how to make baby food, how to play with them, everything.

By the time that Louis arrived 2 years later, I felt like a master.

Except that Louis was a whole other experience than Emma. Emma was a happy-go-lucky little thing who was curious about everything and gentle as a mouse. Louis… was a fireball.

He arrived in a hurry! And 3 weeks early.

We'd just managed to get Emma to bed and sat down to play a video game together. Suddenly Marinette squawked because her water broke. It was only 9pm. We totally weren't ready yet. I remember both of us running around making phone calls and throwing baby clothes into the laundry and installing the baby car seat in the car and panicking. But she didn't go into labour.

Tom and Sabine arrived at 1:30am. Marinette had just started feeling like she might be in labour. At 2, the contractions were bad. The midwives didn't make it. Louis was born in the front entrance at 2:20am. Somehow I managed to catch him. He was so teeny. Like 2 and half kilograms! I thought for sure I was going to break him.

Louis was a challenge - he cried so much. Screamed about everything. I spent too many nights marching that little boy up and down the hallway hoping he'd sleep soon.

By Hugo, I was definitely a pro. And I caught that kid too, because apparently, my children are impatient - not that I have any idea where they got that from….

Hugo was the biggest of our babies. Thankfully, he was the easiest baby of them all.

We homeschooled. I don't regret it at all. It was a decision that Marinette and I made together because I couldn't bear the thought of the kids being gone so much of the day! They were too important to me. But we had to make sure it didn't turn into my childhood all over again.

We did it so differently. Museums, field trips, so many projects and fun activities, laying out under the stars, and belonging to a community of other homeschooled kids so they could have friends. So many friends. There were friends here almost every weekend for sleepovers, I swear.

And I loved it more than anything. Watching the excitement in their faces every time they learned something new.

And now, they are all grown. How did that happen?!

I have grandchildren! 6 of them. 4 boys (Charles, Gabriel, Thomas, and little Sebastien) and 2 girls (Emilie and Celeste). It has been a wonder watching my children be parents, watching these new lives grow.

I've been incredibly blessed. I'm thankful every day that I am not my father, that I'm an important part (and maybe sometimes an overly involved part?) of my children's lives.

They are the most miraculous things I've ever had the honour to hold. And that's saying a lot. Considering I was once a superhero with superpowers…..

She had to close the book because her mind was playing back memory after memory.

#adrienaugreste #adrienaugust #adrien agreste #dadrien #adrien and marinette #lyramaearcher #ml fanfic

23 notes · View notes

shy-violet-soul · 6 years ago

Text

The Mini Messenger Service

Characters: Alpha! Bucky Barnes x Omega!F-Reader, Assorted Avengers Summary: The Pint-Sized Protection Squad calls Bucky on a mission with a very important message. Warnings: fluffity fluffy fluff. A bad language word. A/N: This is a part-2 to a bit of fluff I wrote, “The Pint-Sized Protection Squad” - I got that idea from a reblog by @ursulaismymiddlename. I wrote this when reasonably brain-dead after a very, very tiring day at work. This is also my first attempt at typing withOUT a double-space after a period. Yes, I’m old. Yes, it almost killed me.

Word count: 1,800-ish

This is a work of fiction based upon characters created and owned by Marvel. My work is not to be published elsewhere without my written consent.

Bucky Barnes was a reasonable man. When you approached him and said you were ready to talk about having pups, he said ‘no’. The idea of his former Winter-Soldier-assassin self being responsible for something so helpless and innocent gave him dry heaves.

“But, Bucky...you are the love of my life. You make me feel so safe, so loved and protected. All I want in the world is to know that a part of our love grew into a precious gift, feel your baby move inside me, see a face that is both you and me.” Then, you did it again - innocently blinking y/e/c eyes with one hand on his chest, right over his heart. “Just picture it, Bucky. A little boy you teach how to ride a bike. A little girl you can teach to dance.” Next, you went for the kill. “I can just picture you rocking them to sleep, humming to them. I know it’ll be love at first sight, just like it was for us.”

Bucky Barnes was a reasonable man. After several medical screenings by Bruce; and with Dr. Cho; and with Shuri...counseling with Sam...and encouragement that eventually turned into threats of a beating from Steve after the three-hundredth-time he tried to express his doubts, Bucky told you he was ready, too. No one should have been surprised when you were pregnant two months later. While you picked out baby clothes, toys, and nursery furniture with Wanda and Nat, Steve and Sam argued over godfathership. Tony gloried in the opportunity to geek out to his heart’s content as he outfitted the nursery in state-of-the-art security and bio-monitoring tech. Baby Barnes wouldn’t even be yawning without every Avenger knowing. Meanwhile, Bucky quietly hyperventilated in the bathroom, trying hard to hide his throat-closing anxiety.

Watching her made it easier. Under Bruce’s vigilant care, they knew by week 8 that you were carrying twins. By week 12, your belly started to show a little bump, and your squeals of excitement made him smile as you rubbed the teeny curve. Basking in your joy and reassurance, Bucky began to relax a bit as he became comfortable holding you again and caressing your bump.

That didn’t stop him from having Tony plant microscopic bio-sensors into your socks so he could monitor yours and the babies heart rates.

What surprised both of you was the daycare pups. Bucky had been busy fixing a loose floorboard to prevent little pup and Omega feet from tripping while you did story time. Lightning Bolt the Alpha had raised his hand.

“Are you sick, Miss Barnes?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Are you sure?” Little ‘Steve’ wanted to know.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m not sick. Why do you ask?”

“You smell different.” Truth. Your normal scent of geranium and lemon had clear notes of lavender and vanilla threading through it now. The aroma was so intoxicating that Bucky had to stop himself from scenting you on the regular.

“I know what it is!” Freckles proclaimed. “She’s gotta pup. My momma smells like pep’mint, and when she was growing my brothers, she smelled like Italian food. She said it was ‘cause her scent was all tangled with my baby brothers while they was growing!” Seven pairs of eyes stared at you expectantly; Bucky bit back a chuckle as your mouth opened and closed a couple of times.

“Well...yes. Mr. Barnes and I are going to have two pups.” Now, the pairs of eyes swiveled to Bucky. Warrior Princess sighed as she looked to her fellow Alphas.

“We gotta start workin’ on his mean face if he’s gonna have pups.”

Six months passed in a blur, and the serum he’d passed to the pups had them ready to deliver sooner than a regular pregnancy. Bucky loved watching you waddle your way around the house. The nursery was ready - two of everything, one for a boy and one for a girl, all ready to go. Your favorite pastime of late saw you both curled up in your nest as Bucky sang and sweet talked to the pups. In response, they stretched and rolled and kicked, some of their movements making you groan.

“These babies have taken up all the room! They need to come out so you can carry them for a while!” you grumbled good-naturedly. In those warm, safe moments, even Bucky thought he was ready.

Bucky Barnes was a reasonable man. When he got called out for a planet-saving-critical mission, his declaration that you could both just move to Asgard with Thor before the planet blew up seemed perfectly logical.

After Steve, Tony, Natasha, and Fury all reassured him this mission was critical but in and out quick, Bucky reluctantly agreed to go. The fact that he may have pulled the little Alphas aside and carefully trained them how to contact him on a stolen Stark phone in an emergency was pure conjecture.

The mission was, indeed, in and out quick. The dying adrenaline buzzed pleasantly in his veins; it had been good to get out for a little while, Bucky couldn’t deny. Tony prattled on about the theme for this mission’s after party while Steve tapped away on a laptop - punk didn’t dare slack on reports, Bucky smiled to himself. Suddenly, static crackled to life in the quinjet’s speakers, a scatter of voices and noise pouring in.

“Hello?”

Frozen for a moment, everyone’s gazes swiveled towards Tony.

“Stark, what’s up with FRIDAY?”

“That’s not FRIDAY. Dear, you with me?”

“Right here, boss.”

“Uh - Mister Alpha, sir? I mean, Alpha Barnes - uh - I don’t think it’s working.” Lightning Bolt’s voice suddenly rang in clear as day, and Bucky shot to his feet.

“Give it to me, you turkey! I know how to do it!” A scuffle was heard before Warrior Princess’s voice chimed in. “This is Warrior Princess, reporting for duty, Mister Alpha Barnes, sir.”

“What the hell is this?” Tony barked out.

“Ohhhh! Someone said a bad word!” she hushed to someone near her. A choir of childish voices clamored in the background, but one single sound pierced through straight to Bucky’s heart - your cry of pain.

“Mister Alpha, sir, I think the pups are hurting Missus Barnes.”

All eyes turned to Bucky.

“Who is this?” Tony demanded. But someone clamoring for the speaker thwarted her attention. “FRIDAY?”

“On it, boss.” In the next instant, a screen projected into the quinjet, showing Warrior Princess’ chin and part of ‘Steve’s’ face as the children’s voices crackled through the speakers. “It appears to be a female Alpha, five years of age. Name, Elaine Freedman, referred to as Warrior Princess by Sergeant Barnes.”

“Elaine!” Bucky barked, alarm chugging through him like a fire hose. Suddenly, every phone in the jet chirped, and a separate screen blinked to life with your picture and a growing row of squiggly lines Bucky couldn’t decipher.

“She’s in labor,” Bruce intoned. Immediately, the quinjet engines hummed into high gear as Natasha banked to the right.

“No, she’s not,” Bucky stammered.

“Not sure you get a say, Tin Man.”

“Tony, not the time,” Steve warned as he strode to put a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Bucky. We were already near the area, we’ll be there lickety-split.” A pudgy hand smeared across the screen before a set of tiny Iron Man sneakers came into view.

“Mister Barnes! I think your pups are done in the oven. Should I call my grandma?”

“You don’t call a grandma, Micah!”

“We called her when my sister was borned, and she came right over and took care of me and the dog and everything.”

Bucky Barnes was a reasonable man. The fact that he was currently sitting with his head between his knees, hyperventilating like it was his job, was hardly noteworthy.

“Three minutes, Barnes,” Natasha called over her shoulder.

“Grandmas are where it’s at. My grandma would have this handled. You’d roll up to find your Omega all fine, those pups sleeping, and a casserole on the table,” Sam offered up with a grin. The plastic water bottle in his hand crickled sadly as Bucky unknowingly crushed it, fear strangling him as the jet banked again. The daycare pups were a veritable chorus as they each shouted over who they should call.

“What about the Ghostbusters? I think you can call them, too.”

“What’s a Ghostbuster?”

“I dunno, my dad likes that movie. Just the first one, though.”

“No, no, no. Mister Barnes said to call him, and that we just needed to be strong for Missus Barnes.”

“Yeah! Like ‘Army Strong’ on the commercial. Maybe we should call the Army!”

A sharp, agonizing cry from you blared across the line just as Natasha started to open the ramp. Bucky didn’t even hesitate, but dove through the narrow opening like it was an Olympic event.

“Bucky! You son-of-a-bitch, you don’t just jump out of an airplane!” Steve roared.

“Language,” droned Tony blandly, his faceplate snapping into place as he followed Steve out the quinjet to the unsuspecting passel of pups below. As Sam rolled his eyes, preparing to follow, another little voice piped up an idea.

“I know! I know! Call the Avengers!”

Bucky Barnes was a reasonable man. The minor issue of the front door now being more of a Bucky-shaped hole was irrelevant. The Iron Man-esque crater in the wall was hardly worth mentioning.

Looking back, your pint-sized protection squad had done a fabulous job. Little Red, or - funnily enough - Natalie, and Heidi (aka Dimples) had been busily stroking your hair and happily churning candy-scented calming pheromones while Sera ‘Freckles’ the Beta covered you with every doll blanket she could find. Lightning ‘Chad’ Bolt, Steve’s doppelganger, Jeremy, Micah, and Elaine were deeply involved in trying to decide who else to call. Surprisingly, the room was reasonably calm, the utlra-sweet pup scents more excited than anything.

Captain America and Iron Man had quickly been mobbed by the excited children, allowing Bucky and Bruce to scuttle you aboard the quinjet and to the safety and medical expertise of the Compound. Sam had gleefully stayed behind to referee Steve, Tony, and the pups. He may have taken a photo or video or two. Maybe.

Bruce later hypothesized that, along with speeding up the pregnancy, Bucky’s serum also hastened the labor. Barely two hours after landing, Grant Howard Barnes shouted his way into the world. Rebecca Margaret joined him three minutes later. Tony burst in the room in the middle of it all, and passed out stone cold. Sam absolutely did sneak a photo of the billionaire unconscious on the floor.

Hours later, curled up in the nest that had mysteriously been transported from your bed to the medical wing of the Compound, you smiled tiredly at the sight before you. Your Alpha sat rocking your pups, humming quietly to them as their tiny faces snuggled into his neck. As Bucky felt them, safe and warm and here against him, saw you so thoroughly happy in the soft light of the room, his heart kicked hard.

Bucky Barnes was a reasonable man. He knew he’d fallen in love at first sight with these two precious pups. Just like he had with you.

#bucky barnes x reader #alpha!bucky x omega!reader #a/b/o dynamics #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff

404 notes · View notes

mythicalcanary-literature · 5 years ago

Text

What Confidence Is To Me

It’s quite hard to approach the topic of confidence when the person discussing it is shy. Confidence is not something that comes naturally to me personally, but it does have its moments where it really shines. Streaming on Twitch is one way that helps me personally because at least I’m interacting with others and I’ve made this channel my own.

Social confidence is another matter, I suppose. Being outgoing is one thing, but I am the complete opposite. Although the outgoing personality is natural to most people, it can be very draining for introverts. Is there a way to bridge that gap? I’m not entirely sure.

Being confident possibly can relate to determination, a desire to succeed and to power through the failures and obstacles life puts in front of us. It’s very hard to grasp that strength when self-doubt and all the worries in the world hold you back. You can find yourself at the final hurdle, almost there, then flake away and lose sight of the goal. Is it worth it? Is it worth the struggle to get there? Or should you just take that leap of faith?

This is not an advisory piece of writing from the author. No, this is musing, wondering, exploring the topic of confidence because it’s a tough nut to crack. What would I define as being confident? Maybe an element of bravery? I don’t know.

I could probably list an entire book of doubts and worries that would affect confidence. All the negative factors that make decisions and proactivity much harder to seize. All of the what ifs and buts, all of the outside influences and unfair balances of the world can be a bit too much at times. There’s that personal bubble that becomes the centre of your world and you don’t really want to leave it.

Would it be brave to escape that bubble for a moment? To leave that comfort zone and do something different? How can that boundary be expanded to offer more breathing space to do more in life?

It’s easiest to focus on one day at a time, even a few hours at most, rather than projecting outlandish thoughts for miles in the future when there is no real certainty. How much do we reign in, and how much do we dream far off into the future? It’s daunting.

I guess that some confidence can be gained from little victories, no matter how small or silly. A teeny tiny, almost insignificant daily thing could be the one accomplishment that gets you through to the next day. If more is done then that’s a bonus. If not, then move on.

There’s the confidence gained from a certain level of independence. Learning from mistakes even if there are regrets that nag at you. How can a negative be turned into a positive? Even my livestreaming is a positive result of something that wasn’t an ideal situation. That little light that opened up a new window of opportunity, an unexplored territory that helped me to reach out regain some strength. In a time of darkness, there was a new avenue to brave. I could have ignored the call to adventure, I could have backed out and been miserable, but I took the risk and haven’t looked back. It’s not ideal, but it’s not something I regret doing because it’s become a very important part of my life.

Confidence is a topic I struggle to decipher. I can’t exactly define it because everyone sees the act of being ‘confident’ differently. I probably won’t even come to a solid conclusion during this livestream.

Although I’m generally introverted to the point where I don’t have many friends down the road, so to speak, my friends online are an absolute rock. I know that they all have their own personal struggles as well, but it’s nice to be able to freely bounce off one another and gain that self-worth back. To share common interests and to keep the worries at bay.

It’s taken years to gain a certain amount of confidence personally and it’s not been an easy task. There are times where I’ll feel brave enough to step up and say something, to defend my personal opinions and stand up to help a friend, but then more often than not that confidence can fail and I’ll sit back in the shadows to avoid it. Sometimes having the confidence to speak out or seek additional help is easy, but when that fire burns down that’s when it’s harder to decide how to tackle the problem. Of course some things are best left alone, but to know there’s an extra reserve of willpower to continue would be reassuring.

When it comes to livestreaming there are always little worries here and there. I always stream what I feel like, and hope that those watching will enjoy it too, even if it’s a terrible game, but there are other factors that linger in the back of my mind as a streamer. How do I engage more with my viewers when I don’t use a camera or microphone? How do I know if people are enjoying the content if I’m the only person in chat? Not that any of these things are an issue, it’s simple little nagging things that I personally come across when streaming. I could be streaming a rerun and I’ll be worried that people don’t care much for it, or I could be streaming live and it might be something that people might enjoy but there isn’t the viewership. How can I thrive when I’m not sure when I’m doing something right? Then again, this does stem from being an introvert. Engaging with others is difficult on a normal day, but I do try to do my best and be passionate about my content regardless. This, livestreaming, CREATING, is special to me and despite all of these little worries I know that this is what I want to do and will continue to do. So there’s the self-doubt, followed by the ‘fuck it, I’ll do this anyway because I like it, and if people enjoy it no matter if it’s quiet as the grave, that’s awesome too because I’m usually a lurker in other streams as well’.

I am not a confident person, I know this and I’m working on it, but it will take time. And a certain amount of direction towards a newfound confidence would be amazing too. Just don’t expect mic or cam on my streams! :P Not for a long while at least. If ever. (Told you I was shy!)

—————

This was written live on Twitch.tv on the 22nd May 2019.

Watch the video here: https://www.twitch.tv/videos/428297278

———–

Please do not repost, modify, resell or claim this work as your own.

(Reblogging is fine though!)

Mythical Canary Info:

Tumblr:

Ko-Fi (View more of my creative arts!):

Creative Arts - Support me on Ko-Fi!

Twitch Channels (Livestreams/Videos):

Main Channel | Secondary Channel

YouTube:

Watch my YouTube channel!

#Twitch #Mythical Canary Literature #Prose by Mythical Canary #literature #prose #writing #writer #writers #stream-of-consciousness #random #written live on stream #non-fiction #mental health #confidence #shy #anxiety #livestreaming #positivity #rambling to myself

5 notes · View notes

irondadheadcanons · 7 years ago

Note

Peter has spider instincts and he can control them eighty percent of the time of course Peter hasn't told Tony of this Tony finds out when Peter comes back in to the compound kitchen covered in blood and a look of extreme satisfaction on his face (he ate a deer and fought a bear) and after Peter's shower they have a talk

(QUICK NOTE: We wrote this at 4:30 am. Just… just remember that, okay?)

–

(italics are kat/@losingmymindtonight and regular is shannon/@parkrstark)

Okay… so… there’s a lot to unpack here.

First of all: why would a spider FIGHT A BEAR

Where did he FIND A BEAR in NYC??

Was he upstate already?

Did he kill the deer himself or did he steal the deerfrom a bear and that’s why he fought one?

Do spiders even eat deer?

I love how serious you’re going into this

This is IMPORTANT STUFF SHANNON

Listen. If Peter can control his spider instincts 80% ofthe time then that means that 20% of his life he CAN’T

Which means he spends about 73 days a year just… punchingbears and eating deer

I’m concerned

He should get that checked out

“Bruce… Bruce we’ve got a teenie little problem”

Okay okay so I looked into it and the biggest animal Ican find record of a spider eating is a bird or a rat so i’m not sure how wegot a deer here

WHY ARE YOU LOOKING THIS UP. YOUR BROWSER HISTORY IS ALREADYQUESTIONABLE FROM YOUR WHUMP RESEARCH

So Upstate New York’s black bear population is currentlyestimated at 6,000-8,000. That means that if Peter kills a black bear everytime he loses control of his “spider instincts,” it will take him about 83years to eradicate the entire population (assuming that the bears aren’treproducing)

Significantly less if he can knock out two each episode

What the fuck

Do you like my science Shannon?

#1 I think that’s math #2 I could be wrong about #1 becauseI always skipped science class #3 why are you like this

I imagine that Tony thought #3 too when Peter camewaltzing into the Compound covered in blood and deer guts

On that note: CAN YOU BELIEVE TONY LET HIM TAKE A SHOWERBEFORE TALKING ABOUT THIS

IM SORRY SHANNON

BUT IF YOU ROLLED INTO MY HOUSE COVERED IN BITS OF DEAD DEER

THE SHOWER CAN WAIT

WE HAVIN A TALK FIRST

I can assure you, I will never come to your house covered indead deer

And also

Why did he eat the deer but not the bear

SEE NOW YOU’RE GETTING INTO THE SPIRIT

Do deer taste better than bears?

Let me ask Google

I await a response with baited breath

Truly how did I live before knowing the answer to thisquestion

So apparently bear meat can taste pretty nasty if thebear has been eating a lot of salmon or carrion

So maybe it was just a really nasty bear

And Peter was like “nah. Let me get at that raw deer meatinstead”

So maybe Peter tracks the bear’s diet before attacking it

Do you think he kills the bear or does he just

Roundhouse kick it in the jaw

I was wondering that

“I’M THE CAPTAIN NOW”

And the bear is just like “yessir”

Maybe he just knocks it out and then… calls it a day

Maybe he’s already full from the deer???

Which came first: the deer or the bear

Does he just… get the urge to fight bears??? Or does heget the urge to eat deer and therefore fights bears for their deer carcasses???

Maybe the deer guts on him attracted the bear so he had tofight off the bear. He didn’t want to kill it, it was just self defense

Because even in spider instinct mode, Peter is still achill bro

I just googled “is there a bear-fighting spider”

There isn’t, but apparently there IS a sport known asspider fighting

Which is exactly what it sounds like

Spiders fighting each other?

Yep

For what purpose?

Is it like a game?? A mating ritual??

DIRECTLY FROM WIKIPEDIA: “In the United States, spider-fighting is also prevalentin prisons in Florida, where inmates catch them and keep them in boxes as pets.In 2002, a fight between three inmates over the theft of a pet spider resultedin life-threatening skull injuries to one inmate and additional charges to theother two.”

SHANNON I CANT BREATHE

Life gets rough in the big house

You have to rely on spider fights

“Life threatening skull injuries”

That must have been one hell of a spider, to warrant that

Also, the ambiguity of “they have a talk” is just………there’s so much option there

There is NO info about Tony’s reaction AT ALL

I’d hope his reaction involves some concern

“Comes back to the kitchen” also means that they were justchilling in the kitchen, probably talking about some cool suit upgrades, whenPeter was suddenly like, “hold on, fam, spider instincts, gotta eat a deer” andthen goes out and comes back after however long it takes him to do this

“Peter? What did you even DO?!”

“Oh, you know. Killed a deer, fought a bear.”

“You fought a WHAT NOW?!”

“Spider instincts”

“There is not a species of spider ALIVE that does thisshit, Peter. THIS IS NOT NORMAL WHAT THE FUCK”

“WAIT. DID YOU EAT RAW, UNPROCESSED DEER MEAT??? DEARGOD. BRUCE??? PETER NEEDS A RABIES SHOT ASAP”

“Some spiders hibernate, some eat deer.”

Listen. We as a society need to accept ALL types ofspiders, strange bear fighting habits and all

And this conversation happens after the shower… does Tonyask or does he just shove him right into the bathroom?

Does he think it’s human blood at first??????

“Do we need this hide a body??? PETER??? DO WE NEED TOHIDE A BODY???”

IMMEDIATE SUPPORT FROM IRONDAD

If he has a satisfied look on his face, does that meanthat Peter’s spider instincts are still going off or does the normal humanPeter just see…… no problem with this turn of events???

Is he satisfied with the taste of the deer or the outcome ofthe bear fight?????

Maybe he’s used to it and he’s just riding that spiderinstinct high for a little while longer

Does Peter’s bucket list just look like:

1. Meet Mark Hamill2. Build a Lego Death Star3. Go to Comic Con4. Fight a fucking bear5. Pet a Dalmation

Okay but the concept of the instincts being like a highis HELLA amusing to me

“Yeah hi my name is Peter and I get high off of DECKINGBEARS and MURDERING DEER with my BARE HANDS”

Does he always eat deer? Or is it this like steadyprogression of animals. Maybe he started small with like squirrels and slowlymoves his way up the animal kingdom

The endgame is a blue whale

“Mr. Stark, can we go on a cruise?”

“…… why?”

“No reason”

Just, for a sec, imagine Peter fighting a blue whale

How do you even fight something that big???

Does he nibble on it slowly and the whale doesn’t evenrealize it

Or does he fucking pick it up by the tail and bodyslam itback and forth

BOTH IMAGES ARE GLORIOUS

“Happy? Where’s the kid?”

“I thought you had him?”

“Ah shit. He’s trying to eat a damn whale again.”

IM CRYING

So now Tony knows the 20% of Peter’s life where he losescontrol…..what does he do??? Does he lock him in the Compound with some cookeddeer meat? Does he let him loose with a really long leash? Does he follow himaround spray bottle filled with water for when he tries going after the wronganimals?

Peter sees a squirrel and starts foaming at the mouth andTony just pulls out a spray bottle and sprays him in the face

“No! Bad Peter! Leave it!”

“If you’re good I’ve got some raw bison waiting at homewith your name on it”

“This time I won’t try hiding vegetables in the rottingcarcass.”

“No, you still have to eat them! You’re still a growingspider…boy…thing”

I love how we just assume that Tony would just look atthis situation and go “…this is fine”

Actual footage of Tony

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll be the next snack if he upsets Peter

Peter just starts gnawing on one of the receptionists andTony runs over with the spray bottle like “SPIT IT OUT”

…. we’re getting into dangerous territory now

“DAMNIT PETER. I CAN’T LOSE ANOTHER WORKER. NOT AGAIN.”

“NOT AGAIN”

Poor Jenny Carter came into work wearing her fox coat. Shewas never seen again.

You know what? Serves her right for supporting the peltindustry

Peter wears Jenna like a coat

Oh GOD

But only when he’s high on spider juices

Tony has an important business meeting and the other personkeeps staring down at Tony’s leg in concern. Peter is gnawing at his anklebecause that last deer just wasn’t enough.

Tony’s like “WHAT’S THE MATTER YOU NEVER SEEN A SPIDERFEEDING BEFORE”

Peter never actually hurts Tony because even as a highspider, the irondad bond is too strong. And Tony trusts him enough to let ithappen

…… are you making this cute right now

It seems I am

Tony keeps a bag full of dried strips of meat on him tolet Peter chew on during his “episodes”

Happy mistakes it for jerky one day

Poor Happy

HAPPY WOULD BE SO FUCKING DONE

*Peter is chewing on Tony’s shoulder*

“TONY THIS IS NOT NORMAL”

“But look how cute he is”

“TONY HE’S TRYING TO EAT YOU”

“He’s giving me kisses. What a good son”

“WHAT THE FUCK”

“THIS WAS NOT IN THE JOB DESCRIPTION TONY”

Happy is disrupting Peter’s peace so when he’s complainingto Tony, Peter gets really close and Happy flinches expecting to lose an armbut Peter just slaps him across the face with his dried meat strip

“Bad Happy”

Tony’s grinning. “That’s right, buddy. Bad Happy. Shameon you, Hap. Look at him. He’s an angel”

“Spray.”

“You’re right, kiddo. Bad Happy needs a spray.”

“Tony, don’t you.. I swear to god if you—”

TONY GETS SO USED TO USING THE SPRAY BOTTLE THAT ONE DAYIN A MEETING HE JUST BUSTS IT OUT WHEN ONE OF THE STOCKHOLDERS IS BEINGDIFFICULT AND SPRAYS HIM IN THE FACE

So what state does Peter revert to while he’s in this spiderkilling mode… what kind of state of mind does he have? Like he’s high? He’sdrunk? He’s a toddler? He’s a dog?

He seems like a mix between a toddler/a dog/and a dogaddict

*drug addict

I meant drug addict

Sorry, I was just projecting there

He’s addicted to petting puppies

And chewing on them…. There was that one reallyunfortunate incident at the animal shelter….

They don’t talk about that… Lucky gets by with three legsfine now.

Shannon do you realize this is the most elaborateheadcanon we’ve ever done

This may be my favorite one yet

… Shannon we can do crack now too

Crack, whump, and fluff: THE HOLY TRINITY

This is our legacy

#tony & peter #tony stark #peter parker #irondad #spiderson #irondad headcanons

664 notes · View notes

vacationcalendar · 3 years ago

Text

7/18/21

Good morning Max!

So.

We are steadfastly embarking here on a blogging journey only about 3 entire weeks after we had this fantastic idea. One might argue that a *start* to an endeavor can’t be steadfast; steadfast is a pace that is maintained over a period of time, it indicates a consistency that can’t be identified after mere seconds of typing. But I would argue that that steadfast pace is going a certain speed, and we as a society have a collective idea of how fast that speed is, whether we’ve ever said it out loud or not. And I believe it is that speed at which I am embarking. So there. You bear with me and try to visualize THAT idea, and I’ll try and learn more words so we don’t have to keep having these little thought experiments every paragraph or so.

OK GREAT! WE’RE OFF! I have literally taken two full length breaks since I’ve started writing this. Why was I so scared to get this thing started anyway? Writing comes so naturally to me, like breathing, or shitting. I can’t believe people actually get paid to do this.

Alright, in all honesty, I know this is going to be wildly difficult for me to do with any consistency at all, much less DAILY (good lord...). So in order to make this a more surmountable task, we are going to make the topics and form that the blog takes on a little more free flowing than I might initially want them to be. We don’t care how the river is shaped at this very moment, just so long as there is water flowing down it.

Here are some creative writing projects constantly hanging over my head that might just rear their ugly heads in some form or another during these posts: Comedy Sketches Stand-up bits Segments/ideas for my eternally unfinished novel Standalone essays that I think would work as a youtube video, because of course an introverted depressed guy who thinks he’s interesting in 2021 wants to have a youtube channel. Etc.(?)

There, I finished the list with etc., even though I had no more concrete ideas for creative writing projects. That makes the list instantly 300% more official, and doesn’t paint me as wildly unconfident in my own personality AT ALL. I did mention to my mother that I was working on assorted creative writing projects to keep busy, and she immediately asked, “Oh! Like a [auto]biography?”

She’s pretty confident that I’ve got a bestseller on my hands if I just recounted the sad and lonely details of my life up until this point. She also called it a biography as indicated in my direct quote there, and I tried to fix it in post like any good editor would. But now I’m noticing that “fixing” the quote to say autobiography like she *meant* to say changes the proper article before the word from “a” to “an,” and I have no idea what the protocol for that correction would be...

Maybe it’s [an auto]biography? An [auto]biography? Maybe it’s [an autobiography], but then it’s much less clear what my mother’s initial mistake in vocabulary was, and I don’t want to let her off the hook so easily. Maybe I google this later, if I can think of what the hell you would type into google to find an answer to this. I guess my point bringing this up at all, is maybe I do actually try and use this space occasionally for a journal. Wading through the slimy, fetid bog of my younger days sounds extremely unfun, and, to a point of contention with my well-meaning mother, distinctly unprofitable. But unpacking my current self’s thoughts onto this page periodically does actually sound nice.

And this is a trade secret between you and me (you’re the only one reading this Max, sorry), I think it would behoove you to include several autobiographical moments in your perpetually ethereal novel. You need all the cheat codes you can get to get this wretched thing off the ground. We should lock the name in on that sucker by the way, just to help save you some keystrokes at least. I know I wrote down ‘Elements of War’ a loooong time ago as a placeholder. And I can confirm as of Sunday, July 18 2021, I don’t like it. It’s no good. I look at other titles of other stories, looking for inspiration, and they all seem to work just fine for the story their attached to. Harry Potter is just the name of the main guy, and that worked INCREDIBLY well. “Harry Potter and the [insert magic themed adventure keywords here].” Foolproof.

The main problem I have with a title is simply the fact that I know so little about the contents of my book at this point. It stands to reason that the book should find a title for itself as part of the process of actually writing the book. Seeing the events transpire in the story from a bird’s eye view would give you just about everything you could possibly need to title your book. Choosing a title for a story BEFORE the story really exists feels a bit like working backwards, even though the title would technically be the first thing anyone reads. I guess I could see it plausibly being created in either order. You don’t necessarily need to know the entire story you are setting out to tell to understand the story you’ve shown up to tell. Breaking Bad ostensibly didn’t know many of the finer details of its story before Vince Gilligan picked its title. Hell, it didn’t know many of its details before literally airing on TV. And there was never any consideration of changing the title of the show retroactively, once the showrunners figured out the ending, right? Stories need a title. And I don’t think I’m making some irredeemable authorial error by picking out a title before getting too far into my story-writing process. Although I’m often reminded of the They Might be Giants song “Experimental Film” when I dream up things like titles or dramatic plot points or the like:

“I already know the ending, It’s the part that makes your face implode, I don’t know what makes your fact implode, But that’s the way the movie ends.”

We all want that awesome moment. We all want to create that life changing piece of art. But creating is hard, and dreaming is easy. Or rather, dreaming is natural. We all have a dream at night, we get one simply by virtue of being awake. Understanding the dream, communicating the dream is hard. Hell, communicating anything can be hard. Part of me thinks that creative project that will define my legacy (wow, try unpacking that sentence later buddy) will be an interview show where I work with my guest to try and manifest the story they dream of telling in there head, but have never tried to tell it. Tell me that’s not a million dollar idea! If Ira Glass announced that show next week and Barack Obama was his first guest, you better believe that thing’s taking off like the fucking Quinjet from the Avengers. But you wouldn’t even need a big celebrity guest! I believe that literally everyone has the ingredients of a completely unique story kicking around in their heads. And to conclude this thought, I will often times pretend I’m the guest on this podcast (of course it’s a podcast), and I’ll try to play out what that interview would sound like. And I’ll be honest, that show would need a VERY smart host to keep the flow going. And in my interview fantasy, I’m also the host; so it’s admittedly hard. I think the “Experimental Film” song would be the theme song for that show for SO MANY reasons.

Ok, I’ll be honest. I took yet another break in the middle of that last paragraph, and I may have lost the thread a teeny-tiny bit. So I’m going to try and finish out any relevant thoughts and then I’m going to do a hard break and just move on to a completely new thought.

I actually had an idea of what my (at least for now) title should be. ~The Franz Lion~ This is the name of the ship in the story that all the main characters travel on. This is the primary setting for the majority of AT LEAST the first series of events in the book. I imagine if my story moved far away from the boat, by that point I could that “Part 2,” or it could be like a whole second book. Like the first book is called The Franz Lion, but then a new book comes out and you find out the series is called like “The Greatest Windybilly”; and Book 2 is like “The Drowned.” I don’t know, and I don’t care at this moment. I just know that all signs point to “The Franz Lion” as a fine title for this book. I admittedly can see a world where it’s more of a phrase, like “Aboard the Franz Lion” or “Weaver and the Franz Lion”, but right now, I don’t see something like that being better than just “The Franz Lion”.

The Franz Lion is one of the VERY FEW things that I feel like I’ve hit a home run on. That to me is a fucking great name for a boat. It’s memorable, unique, easy to get on board with. I am aware that the boat from Legend of Zelda: Windwaker was named “the King of Red Lions”, so it’s not COMPLETELY unique. But I’m pretty confident that there is plenty of real estate in the Lions + Boats territory. So confident, in fact, that I’m locking that name in HARD. And then the name of the boat just works great as a title. Literally no one would be confused or lost or tempted to look too far into it. AND THEN, if they did look into it, I think there would be puh-lenty of symbolism and theming to pull out of the boat’s significance in the characters’ lives. And man, I know we talked about autobiographical elements, that’s unmistakable; which I am legitimately happy about. Fran Lyon was a HUGE figure in my life. Our relationship signified a change in my life that I literally was never able to come back from. And using that as inspiration for a ship that literally carries the main character away on a life-changing adventure seems like as great a place as any in trying to tell MY story. One day I can be Kurt Vonnegat-like good at writing stories, and I won’t have to borrow from real life to make convincing plots and characters, but for now this makes all the sense in the world to me. So, yeah, The Franz Lion. It exists in my head and one day it will exist on paper. And then I can die I guess. Wouldn’t that be nice? I look forward to trying to bring a teensy bit to you on your calendar here. Wish me luck!

----------------------------------------------------

Ok that was the break. This wasn’t THAT hard. Thank God. Cuz we have to do a lot more than this to be satisfied. We quit our job on my 30th birthday in part because the notion that I was missing the chance to do *this* was constantly gnawing at the back of our head. Honestly the fact that I literally forgot that this was the writing project I was supposed to be doing for like 18 days may just be a testament to how hard I had been trying to just read.

I bundled writing with reading when I decided that I needed to be writing more. I said, well writing IS reading, and I can’t just sit down and read for shit. So if I’m going to really put writing at the forefront of my brain, I’m going to have to read too, dammit. And then I tried to sit down and read for, no joke, 2 entire weeks. And it fucking killed me. Unbelievable. Unbelievable how hard it was to incorporate into my life. I still don’t get it. So I quit with the intention of picking up these habits. And then I would evaluate how fulfilling it all felt, before I continued onto my path of adult life. You know, working, trying to meet new people, idk what else.... etc. And now that I can confirm how hard it has been to really stick to this and grind out being creative, all I know at this point is I’m not ready to go back. I can tell I want to be more competent at all this before I can make an assessment on what role being creative will play for my future. Seemingly my whole life I have teetered back and forth between wanting to be creative and being too scared to really try, and wanting to have the full life that hard work gets you; you know, the life that society sculpts for you. A wife, kids, vacations, cooking, friends, parties, movies. It’s not a matter of figuring out how it all works, it’s just a matter of going out grinding it all out. Securing it all piece by piece by putting in the requisite work. It’s not easy, but it’s also not complicated. And I guess ultimately I like to think I’m not someone who’s afraid of hard work. But if I’m not afraid of hard work, then why have I not put in the work to secure a career or friends or a partner or physical fitness or anything? Because I don’t want to? Do I really not want to? Or maybe I AM afraid of hard work.

But let’s take a second to unpack that. I put in hard work at Olivia’s. I truly did. I worked hard enough there to qualify as working hard, period. And it felt good. I know this. I shouldn’t forget that. I worked hard, it wasn’t impossible; it wasn’t unsustainable. And it felt good. This is mostly why I tell myself I’m not afraid of hard work. Because it’s not some dark mysterious unknown entity. I’ve been on the other side of it now. It’s the main reason I didn’t think I HAD to be creative anymore. I’ve seen the whole path of hard work, and it actually looked traversable. I sometimes wonder if I had been so drawn to being creative because I was so afraid of travelling on the path of hard honest work. It would explain why it felt so good to actually work hard for once. It would explain why the idea of abandoning the creative path felt so good once I had it. I would imagine the idea of quitting “comedy” would be a pretty mournful one, to someone like me who had clung so desperately to that dream for so long. But it wasn’t. It was a relief in a way. To know that I didn’t have to pull out some wild success in this tumultuous field to be ok; it felt like taking off a heavy backpack. I just felt more capable, more free. The simple act of allowing myself to “quit” felt ok simply by virtue of spending years of my life thinking I couldn’t do ANYTHING, and that being creative was the only way to be ok with the prospect of being alive. Thinking about abandoning that dream told me I was more normal than I had managed to be for over a decade at this point. I looked up for the first time since I had been in college and had the thought that I could work hard and succeed, whatever that might mean. College was the place I first realized I was useless, and now Olivia’s was where I realized that that wasn’t true, I just wasn’t old enough yet. I am aging much slower than the average population; I haven’t exactly figure out why yet. But it’s clear that I am. And for better or worse, this is THE factor that has cast me aside from the le person. Figuring out why would be nice, but the truly important thing to do clearly is to use this to my advantage. Get my leg up the world with my unique vantage point. And as far as I can tell, in fact it seems quite obvious to me, my leg up is going to come from a creative outlet. A twenty year old having his 30th birthday is only going to have diminishing returns in the traditional American dream. It’s like getting paid 70% of what my peers are making. Part of me knows that even 70% of the full salary isn’t that bad. It’s plenty if you’re a hard worker and know how to live in the moment; but another part of me knows that only a fool should take less than he’s earned. I don’t actually know if I can make up all this time I’ve lost, being the proverbial time traveler that I am. I don’t know how on earth I would ACTUALLY go about recouping my salary back to its rightful 100%. I can’t manifest lifelong friends; I can’t rewrite my relationship to my parents and siblings; I can’t pick up 10+ years of romantic experiences from a youtube video. I could technically go back to college, but I don’t really want to. I only want to do that as much as I want to hop in a time machine and actually be the age I’m supposed to.

Now that I think about it, if there was a story about a man who accidentally travels to the future and the finds out the world moved on without him (I mean there is, it’s called Rip Van Winkle). Yeah, now that I think about it, my story is very similar to a Coma patient’s. I just seemingly was given less time than I was promised. And I have to deal with that. But, what I’m saying is, it stands to reason that if this WERE a story, that character wouldn’t shine under those circumstances. They would wilt. They would lament and diminish. Only the rarest and most inspiring would rise up and overcome their disadvantage. Because it is a disadvantage. It’s not a unique vantage point. It’s not a matter of optimism vs pessimism. The glass is not half-full or half-empty; it is considerably less full than halfway.

Right?

Hmm. What is my point here? I have suffered. Unequivocally. And to suffer is to be alive. Again, unequivocally. So maybe my time-travelling has actually gone the other way. I’ve lived far longer than the scant 30 years my birth certificate claims. It certainly feels like longer than 30 years, even though the activity log of my life would disagree. Maybe that’s it. I’ve replaced my life with dreams. I’ve suffered in places where I was meant to thrive. And in doing so I’ve gone far under my quota of accomplishments and memories, and gone far over my quota of misery and regrets. In that sense I’ve lived out less of my life that I was meant to in some ways and lived out substantially more of my life in other ways. And I can’t say that unhappy (or rather that I don’t love myself as I am), but I can see why I never ever heard anybody recommend living your life this way.

“I am young. I am old”

Why can’t I be the age I am? Why was that so hard to accomplish? What did I need to do to fix that? And why do people think I should enjoy my birthday? Can’t they see I’ve been time-traveling? This birthday was for someone else. I don’t actually know when my birthday is. I only know when it isn’t.

Now that I’ve thought about it, I think a time-traveler is a perfectly fine person to be a creative type. He might not be the smartest or the fastest, and he’ll never be the happiest; but it’s safe to say he cheated and got wiser than his peers will ever get a chance to. At least if he was paying attention he got wiser. We all know what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. But then we all go spending our life trying to get stronger, and rarely do we ever get close enough to getting killed. So I have to show up like the man that survived the fatal disease, and got stronger than anyone should have to, without even really trying*.

Ok calling it here. Day 1 in the books. The daily blog is still at 100% completion rate! Nice

Love you, be good.

0 notes

podcake · 7 years ago

Text

Week One: The Bridge Review

In the spirit of innovation to start this fine month of September, I found myself in a mild panic over the summer to find just the right shows to discuss for my review month. These next five weeks are sure to be filled with audio drama galore that I personally deem one of the most creative by far, and even that is vague in itself.

I spend my days raking through the long lists and the little cracks, spelunking the deep archives of iTunes and Twitter bios to seek out the goods, the bads, and the meh emojis out there, giving each and every one it’s shot. But no matter the title, efforts in innovation seems to be something each and every audio drama producer seems to have in mind from the get-go.

When you throw yourself into a community reveling the plights of being a stand out, unique product, how do you properly pinpoint ones that utterly, truly encompass the concept? Simple-you focus on the teeny, tiny little details.

Thus I found myself feeling dead set on talking about The Bridge, a podcast that emerged some time around the summer of 2016 but I have yet to properly cover despite me occasionally bringing it up. The Bridge tells the story of an alternative modern day where a Transcontinental Bridge is watched over by the appropriately titled Watchtower 10 in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. From here we get to know our main character Henrietta Perrault, better known as Etta, who much rather be telling spooky stories than giving her assigned traffic reports.

Etta is also haunted by the disappearance of her mother, among other missing people, something that has plagued her childhood and followed her into adulthood and is the fuel behind most of her actions throughout the series aside from her own natural curiosity.

I can’t help but give it kudos for avoiding the dreaded “strapped to a chair narrating over more interesting past events” formula, despite having all the qualifications to completely revel in it. Quite a bit of the exchanges happen in the safety of the broadcast room though it’s properly utilized to have it both be a place of Etta’s storytelling and her interactions with her crew.

It’s more or less a framing device that makes way for some interesting and often humorous interactions and expanding lore. The bridge in question turns out to be a rather mysterious and eldritch location, providing a kind of suspense and spook factor the show transitions into rather seamlessly with a certain level of self awareness from the watchtower crew, as if they’ve been through this all before.

The eerie elements are not of the heavily grim and gritty variety and more in that slightly off-putting category that labels the bridge as something possibly not of this world or merely haunted or both. And that’s nothing to say of the villains in the first few episodes, providing some interesting psychological warfare with the heroes and even some grisly violence sprinkled in. Nothing on SABLE levels, though enough to elicit an uncomfortable shift in your chair.

All around, The Bridge has the same appeal as Wolf 359: providing a small but plucky cast we quickly get attached to as we slowly watch the layers peel back and whatever character type their filling to be picked apart. And of course there’s the crucial similarity of The Bridge easing its way into deeper, darker territory about its world without entirely losing its sense of humor. If this is a trend forming in audio drama is something I’ve been puzzling over for some time, but it’s certainly one I encourage if it means raising stakes while still keeping its heart in the right place.

But, if there is any weak point in the show it’s in its audio editing. The Bridge comes with some pretty effective backing tracks and a cast of actors that are expressive in their deliveries, but the shifts in perspectives are a rocky boat. It can be hard to tell when exactly a character’s view point is being swapped out for another, mainly because the audio doesn’t properly communicate it.

This may or may not be a noticeable detail to some, but perspective changes in an audio drama are normally signified by a variety of ways, normally as a break of silence followed by some sort of new sound effect that shows a transition to a new location or even a music cue. The Bridge has yet to fully establish changes of scene, which could make following dialogue very confusing. And given the moderate sized cast we have so far, it makes backtracking pretty much inevitable.

The sound is clear and yet still feels messy due to the scenes seeming like they’re not entirely in relation to each other. It’s a bummer seeing as how this is much more of a problem with plot relevant dialogue than in its side missions.

A little detail I’d like to point out, and the main reason The Bridge is being marked for “innovation”, is due to its take on mini-episodes. What helps The Bridge breathe life into its world while still having an ongoing narrative is the clever inclusion of these little shorts that are just cool enough to be standalone projects. These are smaller and simpler stories shipped out in between the original episode continuations, some of which have little relevance to what might be going on in the linear timeline, and yet it’s easily the most effective way to have the best of both worlds.

The mini episodes may seem like filler and padding to others, and perhaps it was always intended to be, and yet I can’t help but be impressed by the simplicity and organization that these shorts provide for the story’s general lore while not weighing down the main story to shoehorn it in. It is by no means the ultimate highlight or the most exciting part, but provides a kind of flourish to what is within the realm of reality for this world.

If things like immortality inducing macguffins will be used later in the series as relevant plot points is its own question, though they make for neat little asides for now.

The Bridge is easily at its best during its tenser moments, “Oops! Part Two” still being one of its most intriguing episodes in terms of dialogue and an effective build in tension that might make way for some interesting confrontations in later seasons. Even it’s follow up episode works to strengthen the events presented before and makes way for a broader lens we are slowly being introduced to, opening up the audience to what could be a much bigger mystery about certain characters, their roles, and whatever secrets the bridge may be hiding.

For me personally, I’ve always been a fan of concepts about bringing life to usually inanimate landmarks and The Bridge certainly scratches that itch for me. It didn’t quite work for me in Mabel, though The Bridge manages this formula in a way that’s just subtle enough that any stranger events to come are anticipated. If what we are to expect from the bridge’s otherworldly nature is that of utter malevolence or perhaps something simply beyond the comprehension of our characters is something certainly worth tuning into.

What makes The Bridge worth listening to, in a technical sense, is its simple but effective storytelling overall. If it plans to truly dedicate itself to its main mysteries and flesh out its world more for the better is something to hope for in the future. It still feels like the show is still in its training wheels and has yet to truly reach its ultimate peaks and reveals, though I enjoy the even pacing it has adapted so far. It’s patient and steady, unlike the fictional waters its fictional towers reside in, but seems to know the benefits of a climb that keeps listeners invested but not bored or rushed.

The Bridge has the makings to be a pretty impressive audio drama experience: a good set up filled with little hidden mysteries to discover, decent voice acting, and a willingness to progress and build from its focal point rather than letting its oddness consume its overarching story. As to where it plans to go is still up in the air but in a way that seems focused and could make for some cool and creative episodes overtime. In the mean time, I say The Bridge has a strong, and steady current that’s easy to get swept up in.

#the bridge #review #september in review #podcast #week one

10 notes · View notes

starry-skies-116 · 3 years ago

Text

GregEvan Character Analysis (FNAF Project Samsara AU)

Prologue- Introduction:

He’s a teeny bit of a bitch, sure- but what I love about him is that he’s THAT BITCH. He is the BADDEST BITCH. He’s a certified badass- a child BAMF- and he’s earned that title with his blood, sweat and tears. Dude has layers. And, at least to me, he has so much potential and is so interesting- this is what I like about the GregEvan theory- it adds so much complexity and character development to the character of the crying child, Evan Afton.

Here I present the character arc of our Patient Zero- from past to present, despair to hope, anguish to faith- once merely a victim, now reborn.

Evan and Gregory- two halves of the whole, reincarnated, reborn.

From old trees come new seeds that take root and give birth to new life- in the ashes, a beating heart is reborn, the flame undying- the soul burns brighter than the stars, alight forevermore.

Part 1- Origins:

Almost immediately, we see Evan’s personality and major character flaws. We are introduced to him in the minigames as timid and harmless- a quiet, meek and easily emotionally provoked and vulnerable child who easily believes what he sees lurks in the dark, most likely the result of a corrupted spiritual core/atman via emotional stress or tension, or just a hyperactive imagination, something that a lot of children have. In the process of designing him, I didn’t want to give him bright blue or green eyes like Michael or Elizabeth had, like he has in so many AU´s- it would be the result of genetics inherited from their father or mother, sure, but those choices didn’t… sit well with me, somehow. So there I sat, testing unique eyes on him. Then, the idea to give him the compound eyes of an insect came to me- a recolouring of Kocho Shinobu’s eyes but with a natural color- a deep, dark brown, so rich and nebulous- so twilight dark it almost appears next-to black, reflecting glimmering specks of light in their wake. No pupils, just pure, unblinking eyes, wide and large, gentle and kind. Reflecting the universe, the celestial bodies of the heavens in their wake, shining with brilliance and curiosity about the universe, the forces larger than man, with every blink.

(I’m rambling about his eyes again, aren’t I.)

I basically made him the type of boy that would’ve grown up to be very pretty as an adult. Excuse me while I go cry now because haha foreshadowing goes brrr.

The tragedy begins with the headcanon that he- that Evan- wasn’t always like this.

However, as the years go by, Evan becomes more and more anxious and internally stressed, as evidenced by the Sticky Note dialogue and his behavior throughout the minigames. As his family grows busier and busier with work and life, the more his home situation grows tense and the older he gets- the more he has to outwardly mature, and the more he has to focus on his perception of who the world wants him to be, and the more he has to take care of his younger sister. He begins to develop a version of empty-nest syndrome- every day, he secretly craves affection and validation- he craves to be emotionally, spiritually and physically vulnerable and helpless without someone hurting or humiliating him. Just for once, even if it’s only once- he wants to be selfish, childish and pampered, and he especially desires this from his older brother Michael- more on their relationship and how it evolves later.

Evan spends the final six out of all ten years of his first life actively running away from who he is- he´s scared of exposing his heart to the world, as if they´re going to hurt or break it, whoever ¨they¨ are. The nightmares are a perversive reflection of the internal struggles he faces. It is a culmination of the sentiments, unfulfilled desires and pain that corrupt his mind and soul- his atman, by extension. He runs away from the darkest corners of his thoughts when his body actively tries to warn him that this kind of fear, this kind of emotional withdrawal and willful self-torture isn´t healthy for him. Every night is a representation of how he feels, the worst parts of his sentiments worsening even more every day.

Evan is around seven when these thoughts truly begin to surface as a reaction to his environment- he is spiritually uneducated, young and still searching for an identity and his place in the world, so he is MASSIVELY underequipped at this time to deal with such premature emotional and spiritual urges to nurture and essentially pamper himself. He doesn’t ever know why he feels this way- he has a great life, right? So many other people have it worse… why is he being ungrateful all of a sudden? He has a pretty rich family, a nice neighborhood, and a great Uncle Henry alongside his “cousins” Charlie and Sammy. Food is on the table every day, a roof is above his head every night when he goes to sleep, school is going great, he loves his family and friends, everything is supposed to be fine! He’s supposed to be happy!

So why is this happening…? That is the question he wonders.

Evan everyday is being infantilized, pitied and patronized by his own family.

His family do love him, don´t get me wrong- not once have they neglected him… they just failed to properly understand what Evan was trying to convey, and consequently, they fail to understand the actual danger that ignoring his emotional and spiritual needs, as well as the corruption and contamination of his atman was doing to him. This is a symbolic representation of how refusing to confront your past- the ugliest and neediest parts of yourself, refusing to work on yourself and your growing maturity, and how the toxic need to remain ¨strong¨, can damage you further down the road- which is exactly what Evan did.

Wouldn’t it be so much easier, so much better, to fall into the label society gives you? To effectively become what the world thinks you are, and nothing more? Nothing deeper?

We, in both the sticky notes and in the FNAF 4 minigames, also see a lot of dialogue about running away or hiding- these messages are written as if the writer is calculating and planning a sort of ‘escape route’, further highlighting Evan’s descent into fear of both himself and the nightmares that plague him, caused by spiritual corruption. By the time we see him ingame, five days before the party, his life had essentially become a living hellscape- his mind was physically sick, not working properly on an actual biological basis like how a normal human brain should. The nightmares could practically be considered hallucinations at this point, and his neglect of his own spiritual and emotional desires and needs have prolonged for so long that they’ve started impacting his physical body in noticeable ways, i.e. insomnia, severe anxiety, and panic attacks. His spiral has reached rock bottom- to drive the nail further into the coffin, he only has his Fredbear Plushie for comfort- Michael has begun to spend more time with his friends as they frequently ganged up on him to tease and bully and ridicule him more often than not, his father is practically engrossed in his work every day now that Fredbear’s Family Diner and Fazbear Entertainment has become especially popular, and his mother had already enough on her plate looking after their family’s needs as there were. He wanted nothing more than to hide- for the storm inside to silence itself, for it to be clear, cloudless skies littered with the stars again. There’s no way this possibly could get any worse.

…It gets worse, doesn’t it?

Of course, of course! Of course it gets worse- when it comes to FNAF, it always does!

That they couldn’t confront whatever was thrown their way together… like they promised on that stormy night all those years ago.

Part 2- Older Brother Issues:

You’ve heard of Daddy Issues, and you’ve heard of Mommy Issues. Now I think it’s well past time you get ready for older brother issues- specifically, Michael Afton issues.

When they were young, the relationship between these two were untainted- sincere and pure. Of course, they teased each other- like, a lot- Michael would steal Evan’s plushie, but he would always return it. He would lock Evan in his room or sneak inside to jumpscare him whenever he walked in, but he didn’t have that stupid Foxy Mask on back then- one key difference. Even then, Michael didn’t give two craps about whether Evan liked him or hated him- for all he knew, the moment he locked eyes with his younger brother as a baby, he loved him- deeply, dearly, overwhelmingly, inexplicably- something awakened within him, an instinct he didn’t know he had- to preserve, to protect.

They made a lot of promises between each other, shared countless secrets between each other, as many as the wonderful memories they had. The bond they possessed was brotherly, like a healthy mixture of a bond between siblings, and between a father and a son. They swore that they would be connected together forever, never growing apart.

However, as they all have learned the hard way- life tends to be complicated, more often than not.

And meanwhile, Evan is angry. He’s angry because of the love he still has for his brother, deep down amidst the neglected, blackened wasteland of a spiritual environment he has within him.

Of course, he does get annoyed when his older brother bullies or makes fun of him with his friends, and he obviously retaliates and defends himself like any sane human being would. However, in moments when he renumerates and laments his relationship with Michael, you can see how much he truly respects, loves and admires the other. One of the things he despises is Michael actively seeking him out, using his status to assert dominance over his younger brother in order to bully him and get away with his actions with Evan being forced to dismiss it to his peers, his other sibling, and his parents as “normal older brother behavior”. Their conflict, when taking this into account, is largely one-sided- Evan only ever reacts in a hostile way whenever provoked, and, even though it goes against his best wishes, tries to avoid Michael whenever he can.

The kind of warped mindset that drives this sort of behavior could most likely be that Michael needs an outlet to take his anger out on, so he uses Evan as his punching bag since he sees himself as a superior and domineering figure over Evan’s currently timid and submissive personality- it is a warped, twisted kind of relationship driven by corrupted love and fear, with Michael internally wishing that Evan could simply “be braver and stop crying”, being blind to Evan’s internal struggles and being completely oblivious as to what is truly going on beneath the surface.

Then again, he’s not the only one to blame for his insensitivity… within Evan’s family, the Afton family, who wouldn’t be to blame for his first undoing before his rebirth?

((***NEW PARTS COMING SOON***))

9 notes · View notes