#fnaf podfic

[dragonfruitflamb3]

https://youtu.be/6mgdLBdRIQc?si=VCVPNCpHxwAnOMKS

ChhhhAPTER! 3!!!!!

We're getting closer and closer to all the juicy bits hehehehe

Love Death and Rollerskates written by @spadillelicious, reading by me!

[venomous-qwille]

At the request of a few people I like very much, I have started to record GITM as a podfic. Updates will be sporadic (finding a quiet time to record is tricky for me!) but I intend to make my way through the chapters when I have time. Anyways, here is Chapter 1 ~ Death

[quietwingsinthesky]

You'll Figure It Out When You Get There (+podfic)

(Other Links: Dreamwidth - FFNet - Pillowfort - Squidgeworld)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: N/A Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's Relationship: Glamrock Freddy & Gregory & Vanessa Additional Tags: Angst and Humor, Road Trips, Post-Vanny Ending, Post-good ending, Character Study, Vanessa has issues, Implied/Referenced Character Death, you know just the dead kids that populate every fnaf game, Post-Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach, Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach Spoilers, Conversations, Developing Friendships, Families of Choice, (they aren't quite there yet but trust me they will be one day), Implied/Referenced Mind Control WC: 2423 Summary:

Vanessa doesn’t know exactly what she’s supposed to do now. It turns out there is no 12 step program for recovering from being manipulated and possessed by a child murderer who likes to dance around in a rabbit suit. or, an ex-security guard and a piece of stolen property have a chat while Gregory robs a gas station blind.

Vanessa doesn’t know exactly what she’s supposed to do now.

It turns out there is no 12 step program for recovering from being manipulated and possessed by a child murderer who likes to dance around in a rabbit suit. Except it was her suit, she made it, she remembers making it, even if she can’t remember a lot of other things that she knows she should. She remembers cutting and sewing and becoming, and she remembers that she was proud of the craftsmanship. No. Step back. Separate. He was the one who gave her the design, and He was proud, that specter in the code that she gave the form He wanted.

She remembers listening. Mostly, always, listening.

Whispers through a keyhole. A door she unlocked.

Her computer is gone. Her security badges and hat and uniform, gone. Her job, her life, everything, gone. His voice is... His voice is, but it is also quieter than it has been in a long, long time. Vanessa finds she can’t prefer the silence it leaves. The radio of the van they stole has one broken dial, the one that controls the volume, and if she turns it on and fiddles with it quick enough, she can get the sound to a reasonable volume before the music blasts out. Sometimes, the volume dial jumps erratically, out of her control, and there will be a sharp note that makes her ears ring and makes Gregory jump. Usually, though, she can make it before it’s too late.

Vanessa is still here. She’s still alive, which is more than a lot of people can say.

Gregory’s alive, too. That’s more than a lot of children who meet her- No, separate, met Him, can say.

Vanessa’s never killed anyone. Vanessa’s killed children. Vanessa can’t remember anything. Vanessa can remember everything, but all it is is screaming whenever she tries to sleep.

Gregory’s alive, and that’s not because of her. There’s a head in their van. It talks. For once, Vanessa does not feel crazy when she talks back. Most of the time. She thinks she owes something to the bot, Freddy. Gregory can drive, and he knows how to hotwire a van, and how to connect an animatronic head to it to keep Freddy’s battery from running out. She’s not sure she wants to know how he learned all of that, but she definitely knows it means that he could ditch her, if he really wanted. She’s also pretty sure the bear convinced him not to. Probably some old protocol demanding that lost children get brought to the nearest adult that can help them find their parents.

Gregory doesn’t sleep unless she’s made it clear she’s going to as well, and not until he’s checked and double-checked Freddy’s battery and connection to the van. He sleeps with his Faz Camera clutched to his chest. Vanessa knows now from experience that being flashed with that thing can leave you half-blind for a good five minutes. She’s learned not to wake the kid up. At least, not from a distance where she’s still going to be blinking spots out of her eyes for an hour.

If she had it her way, she’d sleep a lot less than she does, but that would mean Gregory sleeping less, too. She’s got some sort of responsibility here. So, instead, she bites into her hand in the middle of the night to stay silent and ignores the whirring of robotic eyes as they focus on her. The first time, he’d tried to say something. She doesn’t really remember what. She ignored him, wiped her tears, and tried to go back to sleep. She hadn’t succeeded, but he also hadn’t tried to talk to her again when she did wake. He watches, though. Those robots were programmed to watch as much as they were to perform.

"Why did you help him?” she asks. She’s leaning against the open back door of the van, waiting for the tank to fill up. Gregory is inside the gas station. The security guard part of her feels like she should reprimand him when he inevitably comes back with things he didn’t pay for. The hungry part of her just wants some jerky. Freddy is currently under a sheet. She doesn’t particularly want some nosey gas station attendant walking past the van and seeing an animatronic head, not when the major property damage and theft Vanessa and her unnamed child accomplice/victim caused are still all over the news. She’s not sure if law enforcement has conclusively pinned the “disappearances” on her yet.

At least as long as Fazbear Entertainment is involved, they’re going to remain “disappearances”. Less dirt on the company name.

“I... do not know.” Freddy says after a long pause. His ears click and turn under the sheet, and Vanessa reaches over automatically to keep it from sliding off. “He is a child. It is against our programming to harm children. My friends were malfunctioning.” She winces, and she’s glad he can’t see it. That’s her fault. No, His fault. But her fault. For giving Him the chance. For unlocking the door. She chains it now, a thousand locks, but that just means more keyholes, more places where the whispers escape.

“If programming is all you have, you should have turned him over to me. You had a lot of chances.” She shoves her hands in her jacket pockets and digs her nails into her palms. Freddy whirs. She’s starting to recognize the different sounds his small movements make. That’s the sound of his eyes moving. It’s a small victory in her mind that he can’t see her.

"He did not trust you.”

“So, you decided to listen to a seven year old who you knew broke in.”

“It was the right choice, Vanessa.” Freddy says, and she knows he’s trying to stop her line of questioning. She doesn’t want to argue with him. It’s messed up that the closest thing she can consider a friend is a robotic head. She had coworkers, once. They were almost friends. Luis used to exchange emails with her, casual stuff, jokes... concern when she stopped emailing him back, and then silence. She wonders if he tried to get in contact with her again when he saw the news. She’s got no way to check.

“Had you seen him before?” Freddy’s ears quickly click backwards, and his voice comes out slightly offended.

“Fazbear Entertainment does not record, monitor, or store guest information using facial recognition software without consent.” Vanessa snorts.

“You know, most nights at that place were pretty quiet. I did a lot of weird stuff to pass the time. Including reading all the stuff guests had to sign to get in there.” The clause about recording had been in very small print. Vanessa had to take a picture of it with her phone and zoomed in the photo to read it properly.

“Fazbear Entertainment, on occasion, uses facial recognition to record, monitor, and store guest information.” Freddy concedes. He almost sounds embarrassed. “But I have no information about Gregory before I met him in my room. He did not have a guest profile.”

“That’s a no?”

“He did not have a guest profile.” Freddy repeats.

“And didn’t sign the waiver. Shit.” She glances over at the pump, then at the store connected to the gas station. She can’t see Gregory. She’s not worried about him. He’s survived a lot worse than shoplifting. “Legally, you’ve never seen him before.”

“Legally, I have no record of Gregory.”

“What about illegally?”

“Vanessa, I am not allowed to collect information on someone who did not sign the waiver.” She lifts the sheet just enough so that he can see the look she’s giving him. She’s been told she can be pretty intimidating. She hopes the dark bags under her eyes and her messily tied back hair help the effect rather than just making her look like a walking disaster. Not that that wouldn’t be accurate. Freddy blinks at her and then looks forward again.

“You know you're stolen property now, right?” Vanessa pushes. That is a bit of a sore point.

“After meeting Gregory, I went through the video footage I had access to. Without being able to connect to the main office, it was not much. A week.” He answers. “Gregory is in the footage. I believe if I had more memory storage, he would also be in that footage. He knew his way around the Pizzaplex very well.”

There was no record of Gregory in the system, ever. She asked him where his parents were, to return him to them. He didn’t answer. He didn’t blink hijacking a van, at leaving town, at stealing food. He hummed Freddy’s stage shows without missing a note when he was bored, all the way through. He wore a pair of shoes she knew were sold in the Pizzaplex gift shop.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she admits. “I don’t know how to take care of a kid.” Especially not one who doesn’t trust her, and who has every right to never trust her. She’s pretty sure that, if push comes to shove, if He ever gets so loud she can’t do anything but listen, Gregory won’t hesitate to push her under her own van.

(And then to lie to Freddy and say it was an accident. She had cameras all over the Pizzaplex to watch. She saw what Gregory did to the other animatronics, the ones who hunted and hurt him.

Freddy has, had, access to those same cameras. When Fazbear Entertainment designs something to watch, it watches.)

“I am very good with children. I can teach you!” Freddy says.

I am very good with children, someone whispers through a keyhole, a door she checks the locks of every day. I can teach you.

“You think that a healthy diet consists of pizza, fries, and milkshakes.” She says, louder than she intends.

“The menu of the Pizzaplex was looked over by multiple nutritionists!”

“Did any of them approve it?”

“...We also failed restaurant inspections less than 50% of the time?”

“I worked for that place, and I still don’t know how you avoided lawsuits.” Vanessa says as she tugs the pump from the van and puts it back. The machine accepted cash, which she has... enough of. Enough to last them a little while longer. They can wait for things to calm down and maybe then the kid and his robot buddy could hack something and get them new identities. She has no idea how hacking actually works. She thinks she did some, once. She did what she was told, and the computers listened like she listened.

“Gregory, you’re back!” Freddy says as she gets into the driver’s seat, and she glances into the back of the van. Gregory had scrambled inside, shutting the doors behind him. He sees Vanessa looking at him, and he tenses, tries to hide the stolen goods he was pulling out of his pockets. Vanessa bites the inside of her cheek.

“What’s the haul, kid?” she asks. Gregory just stares at her. She tries not to think about the fact that she didn’t eat breakfast today. “I’m not going to arrest you for shoplifting.” Gregory looks down at the items and then over at Freddy’s still covered head. There’s a slight yellow glow where his eyes are. He’s looking directly at Gregory.

“I paid for this.” Gregory lies. She raises an eyebrow.

“That’s the right thing to do, superstar.” Freddy says. “Shoplifting is illegal, Vanessa. Please do not encourage him to do crimes.”

“You,” she points at Freddy. The yellow glow flickers up in the direction of her finger. When Gregory tugs the sheet off a moment later, she sees that his gaze is exactly on her finger. Not one to be deterred, she continues, “Are Literally. Stolen. Property.” She turns back to the wheel. “He stuffed you in a duffel bag.”

“Yes, but-” Freddy stalls. Makes a clicking noise. “Well-” Click. “See-” Click. He finally gives a metallic sigh. It’s not a very pleasant sound. “Gregory, please do not steal anything that isn’t me.”

“I won’t,” Gregory promises. He’s lying again.

Vanessa starts the van. She fiddles with the radio, stops it from getting too loud. They should keep going. For how long, how far, she’s not sure. Maybe, if they get far enough, she could open that door in her head and see that there’s nothing behind it. (She doesn’t actually believe that. She has read the newspaper articles, the old speculation about restaurant after restaurant, child after child, and she knows better than anyone, He is the kind of curse that lingers.) Maybe they’ll at least get far enough away that she can get a real job. She doesn’t have any references now, but if that goddamn place gave her anything besides the nightmares, it gave her the experience she needs to work a night shift.

Something pokes her in the shoulder. She looks.

“Here,” Gregory says. She reaches back to take the beef jerky from him. He jumps back the moment she has it, before their hands can touch, and then he sits back on the floor next to Freddy. She can see him looking at his Faz Watch. The text that appears on it is too small for her to read, but at least she knows who he’s talking to. Freddy is the only thing connected to the watch. No one else. Gregory has nightmares too, but he doesn’t have Him and His words on a screen that know everything. Gregory just has Freddy, and Freddy might know more than he lets on, might watch and watch and watch, but Freddy will protect him as well as a head wired into a van battery can protect a child.

Vanessa is alive. She has a van. She has a goal, nebulous though it may be. There is a keyhole in a door in her head that she can hear the most horrible things through, but it’s locked still and will stay that way, as long as she can manage. She’s got a piece of beef jerky to eat for lunch, and maybe later, she’ll teach Gregory how to dine and dash, if he doesn’t already know. He probably does.

No one is telling her what she is supposed to do.

(She cannot choose whether to listen. She can choose whether to heed.)

She’s just going to have to write that program herself.

Step one...

[rystonlentil]

2023 Podfic Roundup!

(2022 here; 2021 here)

Ghost Town, by DustDragon39 The Magnus Archives original characters teen and up 18m 42s

I came home one day and it wasn’t home anymore. During a particularly bad storm, two archival assistants from the San Francisco Institute for the Unusual and Paranormal pick up a hitchhiker.

the less-than-careful years, by tigrrmilk Disco Elysium Kim Kitsuragi, Kim Kitsuragi’s parents teen and up 22m 5s

For his seventeenth birthday, Kim bought the first jacket as a gift to himself. It was the real thing — twenty years old, with a slash at the neck, and a stain inside that could have been blood, or mud, or even oil. “Did somebody die in that thing?” his aunt asked. A life, and memories of other lives. Hidden inside objects and matter and waves.

Reboot, by TheQuietWings Five Nights at Freddy’s Glamrock Freddy & Gregory, Michael Afton & The Crying Child general 15m 54s

Are you sure it is necessary to boot in [Safe Mode]? Y/N

Icicles (don’t soften when they die), by Taliax Deltarune Noelle Holiday/Susie teen and up 8m 47s

Sweat beaded on Susie's forehead as she brought the tip of her axe to Noelle’s finger. The ring dug in its thorns. Noelle and Susie's unseen conversation in the Weird Route.

Rot, by dearfriendicanfly Disco Elysium Kim Kitsuragi mature 15m 4s

INLAND EMPIRE — They opened him up and found nothing but the rot that ate up everything he was. And then they left the empty shell of him behind. VOLTA DO MAR [Challenging: Success] — Don’t think about that. Think of music shaking your ribcage. Think of a steering wheel under your palms. HALF LIGHT — Your red, red palms. Night one. Kim Kitsuragi has a nightmare.

Kitsuragi shuffle, by laughingpineapple Disco Elysium Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi general 30m 8s

A Saturday in Jamrock. See the sights. Blend in with the locals. Just a pleasant day out ahead of the transfer, with no hidden hopes, none whatsoever. Kim Kitsuragi doesn’t do hope.

let’s spend the future talking about the past, by godsontheradio Disco Elysium Klaasje Amandou/Ruby mature 11m 4s

Ruby helps an on-the-run Klaasje dye her hair. What happens next is frustrating and inconclusive.

La Muerte Pálida (The Pale Death), by Lepak Disco Elysium Paledriver, background Klaasje/Ruby teen and up 14m 52s

The world hides you in her fog skirts. You row until you can no longer see land, til even its shadow has been swallowed and you’re drifting alone, the last person left alive in Elysium. Or perhaps the first ever made, floating in a wooden womb, amniotic fluid dewing on your thin coat. The Paledriver reminisces.

Even Disco, Baby (12 one-shots), by dearfriendicanfly Disco Elysium Harry & Smoker on the Balcony, Harry/Kim Kitsuragi, Harry & Judit Minot, Cindy the Skull & Harry, Annette & Harry, Harry & Dora Ingerlund, Harry & Tommy Le Homme, Harry & La Revacholière teen and up 2hr 8m 15s in total

A collection of dialogue excerpts that needed a home. Originally posted to even-disco-baby on tumblr, archived here.

He’s A Goldmine, Baby, by Red Disco Elysium Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi explicit 41m 19s

Ok, so getting pissed on wasn't always a kink of yours. Now, however, it has definitely become a thing. Problem is, you don't know your mega-cool boyfriend will be down for it. No need to ruin a good thing. Best keep this to yourself, champ. On sex paperwork, ordinary life, love... and, well. Piss, of course.

Poems for my head’s country, by laughingpineapple Disco Elysium Harry Du Bois & Skills teen and up 6m 50s

Far away, the pale – le territoire, the great adversary, the western plain – roars into nothingness. Here and now, Harry finds a book in his apartment, a trace of his old life. Here and now, Harry finds a book in his apartment, a trace of his old life. Here and now, Harry finds a book-

Blood Like Wine, by Aria The Mechanisms Jonny d’Ville/Gunpowder Tim explicit 16m 35s

When Jonny said it, he didn't even really mean anything by it. He was running his mouth, paying more attention to the way it made Tim thrash under him than the words he was saying. Jonny leant forward, digging his fingernails into Tim's shoulder blades, and said, low and vicious, "I want to eat your heart."

Splat, by nevermindgrantaire Disco Elysium Cindy the Skull & Cunoesse teen and up 25m 43s

There’s a face, though, peering over the fence with eyes like scuttling black beetles. Topped with a matted thatch of red hair and a green knitted beanie hat. Red eyes and red nose, lines under the eyes that just don’t look right on a kid so young. It’s that girl- Cindy doesn’t know her name. The skinny little thing, all hunched and defensive, hackles raised. She clings to her friend like he’s a shield and normally she’s screaming slurs at anything that moves. It’s unnerving, seeing her quiet like this. Cindy casts an eye around the yard, towards the shed, looking for the girl’s persistent shadow. Cuno joins the RCM. Cunoesse gets left behind. Cindy wants to help.

A wreath of reeds, by laughingpineapple Disco Elysium Steban the Student Communist & Insulindian Phasmid teen and up 9m 27s

Steban, touch grass. Grass, touch Steban.

trial run, by Red Disco Elysium Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi explicit 34m 59s

Your mouth keeps moving. "You're so desperate, Kim. Trying to ride my fucked-up dick..." Kim coughs, and shoots you a look. "I thought my opinion on your dick was clear by now."

Possession, by Red Disco Elysium Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi explicit 14m 19s

"Disgusting," Kim breathes, smearing his thumb through his spit, rubbing it into your skin. Mine, that touch says. You close your eyes, dizzy, faint from his love.

A beast in the fog, by laughingpineapple Disco Elysium Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi teen and up 13m 23s

The lieutenant knows how to fend off the loneliness of the empty road. But the air is empty, too, and the coast is gone.

Delirium, by randomisedmongoose Disco Elysium Harry Du Bois mature 4m 50s

After the tribunal. Harry dreams.

Poem 53, by dearfriendicanfly Disco Elysium Harry Du Bois & Harry Du Bois general 5m 57s

From the collection “Poems For My Head’s Country.” Annotations by Harry Du Bois. (For/Inspired by laughingpineapple)

flight paths of migratory birds, by Ptolemia Disco Elysium Klaasje Amandou/Ruby mature 29m 45s

Ruby and Klaasje do take that road trip, after all.

The Orchard, by liesmyth Good Omens Aziraphale/Crowley mature 19m 22s

Crowley eats an apple, tempts an angel, and gets more than he bargained for.

Something Bigger Than The Sky (3/6 chapters), by Taliax Deltarune Spamton/Swatch teen and up 1hr 13m 46s

Swatch's purpose is to serve the Queen. Spamton's purpose is to make deals. By nature, any other passions between them are disposable. (Betrayal still hurts.)

do you have to call it a relationship?, by yewlojee The Murderbot Diaries Murderbot & Dr. Ratthi general 13m 51s

Ratthi stops at the closed door, and sends a message. I would like to talk about relationships. There is a pronounced pause. Is this some kind of reverse psychology shit where you are trying to get me to not talk to you actually?

an experiment in trust, by MercurialFeet The Murderbot Diaries ART & Three teen and up 22m 53s

Three decides it wants to try something. The Perihelion has a slightly more than scientific interest in the results.

[quietwings-fics]

Podfic: You'll Figure It Out When You Get There by TheQuietWings

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's Ship: Gen (Glamrock Freddy & Gregory & Vanessa) Additional Tags: Angst and Humor, Road Trips, Post-Vanny Ending, Post-good ending, Character Study, Vanessa has issues, Implied/Referenced Character Death, you know just the dead kids that populate every fnaf game, Post-Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach, Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach Spoilers, Conversations, Developing Friendships, Families of Choice, (they aren't quite there yet but trust me they will be one day), Implied/Referenced Mind Control Part 1 of stolen vans, broken radios, and dry batteries, or: assorted thoughts on the savior ending Podfic Length: 00:20:33 Summary:

Vanessa doesn’t know exactly what she’s supposed to do now. It turns out there is no 12 step program for recovering from being manipulated and possessed by a child murderer who likes to dance around in a rabbit suit. or, an ex-security guard and a piece of stolen property have a chat while Gregory robs a gas station blind.

Download/Streaming Links: AO3 - Google Drive - Internet Archive

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

[darthsuki]

I would apologize but I'm not sorry in the slightest

So I tried my hand at emulating Sun and Moon's voices! I don't have vocal training other than chorus work, but I love editing audio and seeing how I can incorporate that into my other projects!

Admittedly Sun could be cleaned up a bit better and I think I need to try a different approach to his overall tone and energy, but I kinda like it! I could see me using this in voiced script work or podfics (my beloved old fandom media), but please let me know what you all think!

[zanzaflux]

Fanwork creators self rec! When you get this, reply with your five favorite fics/art/podfics/etc. that you've made, then pass on to others. Let’s spread the self-love 🌼

(No pressure if you don't want to though!)

This is my favorite Ink Demon as Krampus. As soon as I saw his new look in BatDR, I knew I had to make his grumpy butt Krampus. I had so much fun with this.

This is Moondrop from FNaF as a griffin forced to perform at the Fazbear Family Circus. Moonclaw is like a caged tiger. Don't turn your back on him, or he'll pounce! I really like the way this came out. I love the colors and the lighting. I had a lot of fun with this one.

This is Spamton Neo as a cyber dragon! I really like this one. I love the colors in this piece. I had a lot of fun thinking this one up. I love dragons, too.

This is my favorite fanfic. This was the grand conclusion to my Shadows of the Studio au. It took me an entire year to finish this last chapter. It was a good bittersweet ending for the characters I had grown to love, especially Ben.

[browniefox]

reasons i should make a podfic of my own fnaf fanfic:

I have a Utah accent (bye bye british accent Michael, you're out)

Podfics rock, even if the voice acting suck (my voice acting might suck)

reasons not to do this

i have so much shit going on rn

my voice acting would probably suck

nobody would want it anyway

[suffer-my-beloved-mutuals]

Fanwork creators self rec! When you get this, reply with your five favorite fics/art/podfics/etc. that you've made, then pass on to others. Let’s spread the self-love 🌼

(No pressure if you don't want to though!)

Hope you have a good day! ✨

Oh idk honestly! I have lots of cool stuff I’m working on on a side blog ( @the-bird-ghost-anon )

That’s mostly fnaf tho! Sometimes I make art for stuff I like, usually it’s tagged with the fandom!

[itstaisstuff]

to be entirely fair, As The World Caves In is an absolute bop!! sounds fun either way :P glad you are having that much fun at least?

and yeye !! aufest is like this big fic+art event, everyone's out here publishing pre-finished, awesome works in a big bang style, so there's like - for every fic, there's some type of art, whether podfic/webweave/digital art/playlist/etc!!! :D i've already found several works i'm invested in and there's one that i read which is... oughhhhh <- that's how it made me feel i loved it sm (but i AM biased bc it was centric on the lil guys i love so dearly)

Sooo true!!! Yeah and it's like half past 3 am and I'm paining my friend's fnaf painting by numbers so yeah. So much fun ig.

OH OKAY YEAH I GOT IT k I know what you're talking about I just. Yknow when you try to read names of something but it sounds so complicated in your brain for not damn reason? Yeah that's what's been going on. So it's the first time when I actually read it correctly... But yeah it's so cool and people are so talented it's just insane!! You describe it so great lmao yeah just. The emotion. Got it

[renounce-these-halls]

Huge thanks to @rystonlentil for doing a podfic of my FNAF fic, The Point Of Clothes! I really appreciate this; they have a really nice voice, and I really like how this came out!!

[dragonfruitflamb3]

SO!! after procrastinating for WAYYY to long on specifically just the drawing-

It is finished! Love, Death, and Rollerskates: Chapter 1 is now fully read and edited together!!!! It was actually much more fun than I expected, I'm just about as fast as a snail at drawing.

https://youtu.be/T-CsT4pG_jk?si=Z-446KCnJfEDWHSC

Thank you thank you THANK YOU @spadillelicious for letting me do this!! I adore the writing and am definitely going to try and do the second chapter as well

[venomous-qwille]

Chapter 2 (Seven of Cups) of the GITM podfic! This chapter has a little ambient noise issue that I tried my hardest to fix, hopefully you can all still enjoy it! I had a blast voicing Sol and Fool <3

[quietwingsinthesky]

Another Night (it doesn't get easy)

(Other Links: Dreamwidth - FFNet - Pillowfort - Squidgeworld)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's Archive Warnings: N/A Relationships: Michael Afton & William Afton | Dave Miller Additional Tags: Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria Simulator | Five Nights at Freddy's 6, Father-Son Relationship, Mild Gore, Angst, Electrocution, Canon Dialogue, Canon Compliant, Character Undeath, POV Second Person, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Bitterness, Graphic Description of Corpses, Introspection, Michael Afton-Centric, Horror Wordcount: 1438 Summary:

This is the first time in years that Michael Afton has been in the same room as his father. Or, the Pizzeria Sim Salvage Scene, but with far more emphasis on the messed up relationship between Michael and William.

You thought it would take longer.

There was always building tension before, night after night with death slamming itself against your doors or whispering in your ears. Maybe that’s the key. Death isn’t something you can be afraid of any longer. There is a gaping hole in your chest of rotted flesh and sharp steel that holds your bones together, and yet you are still here. You stand outside your father’s legacy, the one you rebuild now with your own two hands and the money you have scraped and stolen. It is raining. You are glad that, of all your senses, smell was the first to go.

Your father slumps in the alley behind the building. You said that you would come find him. You failed. It doesn’t matter. He has found you, whether he meant to or not. You wonder if he recognizes you. You don’t recognize you anymore.

You wait for him to move. Six AM is a long ways away. You’ve gotten good at this job. You learned how to clock out early. You want him to stand. You want him to look at you. Your father does neither of these things. He sits in his alley the way a corpse ought to.

If that’s the game he wants to play...

You drag your father’s body inside by the arm without care. The tattered face of his suit scrapes along the tiles in a rough hiss. You hobble along, unafraid of being caught by the other thing inside the restaurant. It’s as afraid of your father as you once were. You heard its frantic gibberish in your mind when it wore you. The creation cowers before the creator until it learns how fallible he is. Or until, like you, it has nothing more to lose. Those souls cling to life because they want it. You wish you’d had the choice.

The table has not been moved since last night. The process of sitting your father across from you is arduous and slow. The scraps of flesh melted into his suit aren’t the same color as your own, but the bones you can see underneath the sinew match the shade of your ribs. You count them sometimes at night, like sheep. It doesn’t help you sleep, but it’s something to do. Most of them are still there. You position him in his chair and limp to your own.

The last time you sat at the table with your father, your family was all still alive.

You have set the table with a cassette tape player and the scrap of paper you’re meant to record activity on. Your father is a puppet with his strings cut, his head lolled down against his chest, the harsh spotlight failing to banish the shadows that cling to him. Without looking down, you reach for the tape player. You slide your fingers over the four buttons until you land on play. The voice on the tape should feel like an intruder at this final mockery of family dinner. Instead, he is familiar. His words and tone are not kind, but you get the sense that he was, once. You think he was a man who used to smile a great deal and hasn’t had cause to in a very long time.

“Before you is an animatronic found in the back alley. We are unsure of its origins,” the man on the tape lies. “It is your job to complete the maintenance checklist before claiming it as salvage,” he continues, and you do not look down from your father as the tape hisses. He does not react. “Or, if you choose to, you can put it back in the alley where you found it and forfeit payment. Please make your choice now.” You wonder if he sounds kinder tonight than he did last time. Regardless, dead men cannot make choices. Your father is still here. You are still here. There is very little left to salvage.

You place your company-issued taser on the side of the table opposite the tape player. You want your father to see it. The man on the tape warns that you can only use it three times before the animatronic in front of you decreases in value. You see this as free rein to use it as many times as you want.

“Begin audio prompt in 3... 2... 1.” You aren’t sure what the audio is meant to be. It reverberates painfully in your ears. Your father does not move. You scratch a check inside the no box.

“Begin audio prompt in 3... 2... 1.” Again, the sound plays, maybe louder this time, maybe faster. You can’t really tell the difference. You wonder what would happen if you stopped the tape and spoke to him instead. You have so many things to say. It’s too bad your tongue fell out a while back. What a loss. How will you ever bond with your old man now. You scratch down another check in the box that says no and look up. He hasn’t moved.

“Begin audio prompt in 3... 2... 1.” It could be breathing. Choppy, contorted breathing. You haven’t heard breathing in a long time, but you imagine nothing healthy chokes down air like the sounds on the tape. You glance down at your checklist and back up at your father. He stares back at you, the shadows obscuring whatever is left of his eyes behind the mask. You put your hand on your taser. The rest of him is still slumped, only his head turned up to get a good look at you.

It’s me, you think. It’s me, Michael, your son. The only one who survived you. Until I didn’t. You rub your fingers against the taser and check the box for no. You asked me to lead my sister out of Hell. They tore out my insides and walked my corpse out of that nightmare, all of them. They wanted to kill you, father. I’m glad they didn’t.

You look at where the springs have become a part of him, dug as deep as they are.

When I died, it didn’t hurt. I’m glad that you can’t say the same.

“Begin audio prompt in 3... 2... 1.” The painful sound rings between you again. You look down at your checklist and hear the creak of metal. When you look up again, he is sitting up, his mouth slack like a broken jaw, his body still angled slightly by the weight of his remaining arm. That is more like you expected when you brought him inside. Your father, the walking blasphemy, can see you now.

You lift your taser and administer a controlled shock.

The lights flicker, and his body convulses. His hand grabs the end of the table once, metal fingers leaving a dent before his arm seizes and goes limp at his side again. He plays dead once more. “Document results,” the man on the tape reminds you. You check no.

“Begin audio prompt in 3... 2... 1.” The longest of the audio prompts begins to play. You sit back in your chair. This one sounds nothing like the ones before. Distantly, music plays, discordant and familiar, like a place you can never go back to. If they were someone else’s memories, maybe the music would be clearer and the barely-there voice would be cheerfully robotic. These are your memories, though, and this stupid pizzeria’s foundations are sanctified with your family’s blood. “Document results.”

You look down at your checklist.

There is rattling, wheezing noise from across the table. It is a bag of nails being poured down a throat. It is the sharp end of a bone ripping through skin again. Your father’s head turns up, limp like his neck is the only part of him that obeys. With great effort, he begins to form one word.

“Mich-” You give him another controlled shock. He seizes, the word turning into a rasp of pain before he is silent again. You wait. He does not look at you again. You check the box for no.

“You have completed the maintenance checklist and may proceed with the salvage.” You stand, picking up the taser, the checklist, and the tape player. You will abandon your father at the table. Like the thing that you salvaged before him, he will wander off into the halls of the pizzeria and get lost. He will come after you tomorrow night. He was never one to let you get the last word. “Well done,” the man on the tape says. You imagine he sounds proud of you. “End tape.”

[rystonlentil]

2022 Podfic Roundup!

(2021 here)

forever hurtling towards the earth, by vienna_salvatori The Mechanisms Raphaella la Cognizi, Dr. Carmilla teen and up 24m 3s

Brilliant scientist Raphaella la Cognizi is down on her luck. She might've made more breakthroughs in her field over the past six months than most could hope to achieve in a lifetime, but it's still not enough. Her project isn't working, and she's run out of time. No one else sees the potential. No one else appreciates the majesty of it, the impossible breakthrough with every painstakingly assembled connective joint, the full sum of scientific knowledge etched into the sweeping curves of not-quite-feathers. It's not enough. And yet- And yet there is a woman standing in the middle of Raphaella la Cognizi's lab, annotating her diagrams and rearranging her wires, and even though it might kill her, Raphaella realises she might just have a chance.

when midnights break their sleep, by SummerFrost The Witcher Geralt/Jaskier, Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer, Geralt & Renfri mature 1hr 48m 55s

The first Snapchat that anyone ever sends Geralt is a picture of his own irritated face. shrike_princess: can u believe this dumbass finally got a snapchat bc a cute boy asked him nicely "It wasn't even that nicely," Geralt says flatly. AKA: The one where Geralt is a bartender and Jaskier sings karaoke.

Blurry .jpeg of a Little Glass Bird, by spaghetti_garrote Five Nights at Freddy’s mature 51m 44s

In an alternate universe, where instead of hanging around Hurricane as a security guard, William Afton takes on the identity of Dave Miller, a widower and art gallery secretary in Saint Johnsbury, Vermont...

I Want My Octokitten Back, by shella688 The Mechanisms teen and up 6m 13s

Gunpowder Tim has lost his octokitten. What if he never sees it again? WAIT He has seen his octokitten... (A Mechs version of I Want My Hat Back, by Jon Klassen.)

where no man (should have) gone before, by fushifables Stellar Firma teen and up 28m 45s

“You– You’re not going to stay?” he was saying nervously. “Don’t you think you should... er, instruct me? Commentate? Mock me for my hubris? Please Hartro anything—” “Stop whining, Trexel,” Hartro said, pressing a large green button on the console in front of her with a flourish. “I have zero-gravity yoga, so you’ll have to manage on your own. Just remember,” she added, making for the door, “If you die in the HoloDome—trademark Stellar Firma, Limited—you die in real life! Toodles!”

The Point Of Clothes, by pikablob Five Nights at Freddy’s Vanessa & Glamrock Freddy & Gregory general 16m 1s

After taking Gregory in, Vanessa takes him to get new clothes for the first time. While there, he plucks up the courage to ask for something specific.

so i’m the dragon (big deal), by SummerFrost The Witcher Renfri/Yennefer, Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer, Jaskier & Renfri, Geralt & Renfri explicit 2hr 51m 0s

If Renfri were straight and also someone who believed she needed a relationship to have a meaningful existence, she'd probably marry Geralt and not totally hate her life. Luckily she's neither of those things, so she's fucking Geralt's girlfriend instead.

You’ll Figure It Out When You Get There, by TheQuietWings Five Nights at Freddy’s Vanessa & Glamrock Freddy & Gregory teen and up 15m 3s

Vanessa doesn't know exactly what she's supposed to do now. It turns out there is no 12 step program for recovering from being manipulated and possessed by a child murderer who likes to dance around in a rabbit suit. or, an ex-security guard and a piece of stolen property have a chat while Gregory robs a gas station blind.

Nothing Really Sticks, by Rosie447 Stranger Things Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & Nancy Wheeler teen and up 1hr 11m 9s

Steve cuts his hair with safety scissors in the bathroom of Family Video. Maybe he's less okay than he's been letting on.

The Very Best People, by scioscribe Stranger Things Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington teen and up 1hr 45m 40s

“Why are you messing up my undercover operation, Steve?” Dustin said. “Do you want another tear to open up in the space-time continuum and suck us all into the Upside Down? Do you want the entire world to turn into squishy, mind-flayed zombies because you and Robin couldn’t get your shit together?” (Or, the one where Steve and Robin go undercover in an evil suburb.)

Case #0222411, by FireflysWriting The Magnus Archives, Goncharov (1973) general 6m 37s

Statement of Maria Angelova regarding her supposed involvement in the film Goncharov (1973). Statement given 24th November 2022.

A Mile Away, by lenaballena Check Please! Nursey/Dex, Chowder & Nursey & Dex teen and up 5hr 32m 45s

The thing is, he’s had study nights and TV marathons in Chowder’s room. He’s gotten stoned in Shitty’s, and Lardo’s, crashed on Jack’s floor after a kegster, gone to Bitty’s for advice, and checked Ransom and Holster’s for ghosts. If it were anyone else’s, Nursey would at least have some indicator of what was going on, because he’d be able to recognise the decorations, the layout. But Derek Nurse wakes up in William Poindexter’s room and has no idea where the fuck he is.

A Christmas Carol - Mechanisms Style, by otherhawk The Mechanisms teen and up 18m 34s

On the night before Space Christmas, Ebenezer Scrooge is going to change his ways. Brian will make sure of it, with some unhelpful help from his friends.

[quietwings-fics]

Another Night (it doesn't get easy)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandom: Five Night's at Freddy's Ship: Gen (Michael Afton & William Afton) Additional Tags: Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria Simulator | Five Nights at Freddy's 6, Father-Son Relationship, Mild Gore, Angst, Electrocution, Canon Dialogue, Canon Compliant, Character Undeath, POV Second Person, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Bitterness, Graphic Description of Corpses, Just to be safe, Introspection, Michael Afton-Centric, Horror Wordcount: 1438 Summary:

This is the first time in years that Michael Afton has been in the same room as his father. Or, the Pizzeria Sim Salvage Scene, but with far more emphasis on the messed up relationship between Michael and William.

You thought it would take longer.

There was always building tension before, night after night with death slamming itself against your doors or whispering in your ears. Maybe that’s the key. Death isn’t something you can be afraid of any longer. There is a gaping hole in your chest of rotted flesh and sharp steel that holds your bones together, and yet you are still here. You stand outside your father’s legacy, the one you rebuild now with your own two hands and the money you have scraped and stolen. It is raining. You are glad that, of all your senses, smell was the first to go.

Your father slumps in the alley behind the building. You said that you would come find him. You failed. It doesn’t matter. He has found you, whether he meant to or not. You wonder if he recognizes you. You don’t recognize you anymore.

You wait for him to move. Six AM is a long ways away. You’ve gotten good at this job. You learned how to clock out early. You want him to stand. You want him to look at you. Your father does neither of these things. He sits in his alley the way a corpse ought to.

If that’s the game he wants to play...

You drag your father’s body inside by the arm without care. The tattered face of his suit scrapes along the tiles in a rough hiss. You hobble along, unafraid of being caught by the other thing inside the restaurant. It’s as afraid of your father as you once were. You heard its frantic gibberish in your mind when it wore you. The creation cowers before the creator until it learns how fallible he is. Or until, like you, it has nothing more to lose. Those souls cling to life because they want it. You wish you’d had the choice.

The table has not been moved since last night. The process of sitting your father across from you is arduous and slow. The scraps of flesh melted into his suit aren’t the same color as your own, but the bones you can see underneath the sinew match the shade of your ribs. You count them sometimes at night, like sheep. It doesn’t help you sleep, but it’s something to do. Most of them are still there. You position him in his chair and limp to your own.

The last time you sat at the table with your father, your family was all still alive.

You have set the table with a cassette tape player and the scrap of paper you’re meant to record activity on. Your father is a puppet with his strings cut, his head lolled down against his chest, the harsh spotlight failing to banish the shadows that cling to him. Without looking down, you reach for the tape player. You slide your fingers over the four buttons until you land on play. The voice on the tape should feel like an intruder at this final mockery of family dinner. Instead, he is familiar. His words and tone are not kind, but you get the sense that he was, once. You think he was a man who used to smile a great deal and hasn’t had cause to in a very long time.

“Before you is an animatronic found in the back alley. We are unsure of its origins,” the man on the tape lies. “It is your job to complete the maintenance checklist before claiming it as salvage,” he continues, and you do not look down from your father as the tape hisses. He does not react. “Or, if you choose to, you can put it back in the alley where you found it and forfeit payment. Please make your choice now.” You wonder if he sounds kinder tonight than he did last time. Regardless, dead men cannot make choices. Your father is still here. You are still here. There is very little left to salvage.

You place your company-issued taser on the side of the table opposite the tape player. You want your father to see it. The man on the tape warns that you can only use it three times before the animatronic in front of you decreases in value. You see this as free rein to use it as many times as you want.

“Begin audio prompt in 3... 2... 1.” You aren’t sure what the audio is meant to be. It reverberates painfully in your ears. Your father does not move. You scratch a check inside the no box.

“Begin audio prompt in 3... 2... 1.” Again, the sound plays, maybe louder this time, maybe faster. You can’t really tell the difference. You wonder what would happen if you stopped the tape and spoke to him instead. You have so many things to say. It’s too bad your tongue fell out a while back. What a loss. How will you ever bond with your old man now. You scratch down another check in the box that says no and look up. He hasn’t moved.

“Begin audio prompt in 3... 2... 1.” It could be breathing. Choppy, contorted breathing. You haven’t heard breathing in a long time, but you imagine nothing healthy chokes down air like the sounds on the tape. You glance down at your checklist and back up at your father. He stares back at you, the shadows obscuring whatever is left of his eyes behind the mask. You put your hand on your taser. The rest of him is still slumped, only his head turned up to get a good look at you.

It’s me, you think. It’s me, Michael, your son. The only one who survived you. Until I didn’t. You rub your fingers against the taser and check the box for no. You asked me to lead my sister out of Hell. They tore out my insides and walked my corpse out of that nightmare, all of them. They wanted to kill you, father. I’m glad they didn’t.

You look at where the springs have become a part of him, dug as deep as they are.

When I died, it didn’t hurt. I’m glad that you can’t say the same.

“Begin audio prompt in 3... 2... 1.” The painful sound rings between you again. You look down at your checklist and hear the creak of metal. When you look up again, he is sitting up, his mouth slack like a broken jaw, his body still angled slightly by the weight of his remaining arm. That is more like you expected when you brought him inside. Your father, the walking blasphemy, can see you now.

You lift your taser and administer a controlled shock.

The lights flicker, and his body convulses. His hand grabs the end of the table once, metal fingers leaving a dent before his arm seizes and goes limp at his side again. He plays dead once more. “Document results,” the man on the tape reminds you. You check no.

“Begin audio prompt in 3... 2... 1.” The longest of the audio prompts begins to play. You sit back in your chair. This one sounds nothing like the ones before. Distantly, music plays, discordant and familiar, like a place you can never go back to. If they were someone else’s memories, maybe the music would be clearer and the barely-there voice would be cheerfully robotic. These are your memories, though, and this stupid pizzeria’s foundations are sanctified with your family’s blood. “Document results.”

You look down at your checklist.

There is rattling, wheezing noise from across the table. It is a bag of nails being poured down a throat. It is the sharp end of a bone ripping through skin again. Your father’s head turns up, limp like his neck is the only part of him that obeys. With great effort, he begins to form one word.

“Mich-” You give him another controlled shock. He seizes, the word turning into a rasp of pain before he is silent again. You wait. He does not look at you again. You check the box for no.

“You have completed the maintenance checklist and may proceed with the salvage.” You stand, picking up the taser, the checklist, and the tape player. You will abandon your father at the table. Like the thing that you salvaged before him, he will wander off into the halls of the pizzeria and get lost. He will come after you tomorrow night. He was never one to let you get the last word. “Well done,” the man on the tape says. You imagine he sounds proud of you. “End tape.”

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