#ler!lefty

[trashyswitch]

Begin Communication

Charlie, who had been possessing the puppet for ages at this point, had been lured and placed inside Lefty for an unknown reason. But amidst the child's panic, Charlie starts to experience feelings, both physical and emotional, that bring back memories and experiences she remembers from when she was alive.

This fanfic is going to include some heavy subject matter about death, murder, past mistakes, memories of a past life, and more. This fanfic will also show some slightly controversial tickling, some of which I've never really had to write before. So...be warned, and read at your own risk.

This fanfic was suggested by Shadow Anon. Despite the heavy subject matter...I still hope you enjoy. And thank you to @ticklishmattie for helping me with this fanfic. I appreciate it. <3

Charlie felt herself being placed into the suit bit by bit. First her legs were put into Lefty’s legs…then her middle was pushed down by the chain clamps. Then her arms were secured into the animatronic arms. And slowly, her head was bent back to click into Lefty’s head helmet. While she was being moved into the proper position, gentle music box music was playing from inside the animatronic. Though any normal music box coming from an animatronic would sound too creepy to walk up to…This music box sounded happy…almost comforting. But she should’ve known this was just a trick. A trick that was being used to lure her into the animatronic. But strangely…this animatronic was more smooth, and more gentle in its capture mechanisms. Perhaps this animatronic was not made by William Afton. Perhaps…

…Perhaps this animatronic was made by her father…

As the animatronic head clicked into place, she started moving around and noticed how little she could move. No…

What if this is all a trap?! What if this animatronic WASN’T made by her father?! 

What if it was made by some stranger who knows she had possessed this puppet?! 

NO! 

She started moving her body around, trying desperately to get out. She can’t be forced to stay in this Freddy ripoff of an animatronic. Never! She needed to get out somehow. 

She pulled on the Puppet arms, but they were stuck in place, not able to move. Her arm was positioned against the shoulder and into the upper arm of Lefty, which restricted her arm movement drastically. She pulled on her puppet legs, but they were clamped down and held in place with the chain clamps. She wiggled her head around as much as she could. But she couldn’t really move the body below her neck around. Just her head. And even then, all she could do was tilt her head side-to-side. 

She pulled and tugged on her body to try and get out. But nothing seemed to be working! There  had to be a way to get out! If this animatronic was made by her father, then her father would’ve allowed her to get out whenever she wants to. So with that in mind, she started to believe maybe this wasn’t made by her father…that it may have been made by someone else altogether. Who this was that was making these animatronics, she could not tell you. But all she knew was that she wanted out of this animatronic…Preferably as soon as possible. 

But all her fears froze for a moment as she felt something soft fluttering against her plush side. It was strange…It felt almost familiar…but it didn’t at the same time. She tried to look down, but she couldn’t. The way the suit was set up, she couldn’t look down even if she wanted to. And right now, she really wanted to. 

The feeling was soft, and tickly, almost like a bug was crawling all over her middle. It was also growing very distracting. It made her experience feelings she hadn’t experienced in a long time. It made her feel like giggling and wiggling around. 

What was making her feel like this!? What was tickling her? And how can she make it go away? 

She wiggled her middle around in an attempt to get the thing off her. But to her surprise, it only moved spots whenever she wiggled her body around. It was like something was sitting still against the one spot.  And her wiggling around was only tickling herself even more. So she quickly stopped wiggling around. 

But right as she felt like she could control herself, she felt another thing fluttering against her. But this time, it was against her left armpit. She almost squealed before pulling on her right arm in an attempt to get it free and cover up her left armpit. But it was just no use…She just had to take it. She tried to take deep breaths, but her exhales would come out as jumpy titters. And she tried her best to think of something else…But all that kept going through her head was memories of her father using feathers to tickle her belly. 

Wait…Feathers…

She quickly widened her black eye sockets with shock as it finally clicked:  

They were feathers! That’s why they felt so familiar! These things tickling her right now, were feathers! In fact, they felt like similar feathers to what her Dad used to tickle her with! Just from the feeling alone, she could easily tell these weren’t fake feathers. Fake feathers and real feathers felt completely different. Fake feathers felt less tickly and more rough, while real feathers felt super soft, to the point where it could easily drive you crazy. She had known the difference for as long as she could remember. 

But how the heck was she able to feel the difference when she’s clearly possessed by a being with no nerves?! She just couldn’t explain it. 

After a few more minutes of those feathery feelings, Charlie began to hear little spurts of giggles fall out of her mouth and fill the room for little moments at a time. She didn’t really have a way to stop them, either. But…she almost didn’t mind this. Maybe the inventor of this animatronic had a good point: It’s good to experience laughter again. 

She began to think that maybe if she let it all out…then she would feel better about her situation…

She finally decided to let out all the laughter that she had pent up inside her. And…It felt really good! It felt like she was removing a huge bag of ice from her shoulders, and throwing it onto the ground before letting it melt to nothing but water. It felt amazing to just let every laugh drain from her lungs. Though, technically she didn’t have any lungs. Why was she even able to control her breath or feel euphoria from letting out her laughter? There were just so many questions, and little to no answers available to her. 

She leaned her puppet head back as much as the helmet would let her, and continued to just giggle up a storm inside this animatronic. “Heeeheeheheheeheheee! Heheheheeheheeheheeeheeeheehee! Hohohohow ihis this hahahappenihihihing?!” She asked out loud. 

She moved the puppet’s head side to side as best she could, and attempted to wiggle around too. But despite her lack of lungs, she could slowly feel herself growing tired. Though it wasn’t that bad as of yet, she feared the tiredness would get worse overtime. Despite sensing that she was safe, she couldn’t trust her gut feeling. 

Not this time. 

Something was suspicious about how well-placed this trap was. 

“Hehehehellohohohoho? Hehelloooohohoho?” She asked, trying to call for someone. As she looked around at the dark street for someone to come walking to her from the darkness, she knew the chances of that actually happening were limited. 

The feather against her left armpit soon moved down to join the other feather on her black, stick-thin belly. Both the feathers were now fluttering on either side of the belly region. Her giggles seemed to move up to level 2: giddy laughter. She felt as the puppet mouth opened a slight bit more as joyous, comfortable laughter left her felt mouth. The giggling she had started with, was a little bit like a warm-up for her. But this upping of the antics felt like the main event! Like if you still felt starving for touch, this level would guarantee your life-long satisfaction. 

“HAhahahaha! Hehehehehee! Myhyhy- Myhy bellyhyhyhyhy! Goohohohohood chohohoice!” She reacted. “Thahahat’s a gohood spohohot to gohohoho fohohohor!” She added. 

The animatronic didn’t say anything to her in response. But…it didn’t need to. Just stopping the tickling feathers was enough to show her she’s being listened to by at least 1 person. And that’s what the animatronic did: The feathers slowed to a stop, leaving the ghost giggling and laughing for those few seconds. Those phantom tickles that were caused by the feathers before, had begun to linger on for a bit longer before disappearing altogether. When these phantom feelings left her possessed belly, so did her laughter. Her laughter slowed to muffled giggles, which slowed to soft breathing. 

She couldn’t believe she was experiencing physical tiredness again. She couldn’t explain it…but it was almost euphoric…like she was a little girl again…like she was winded from running all the way down a hill: not quite winded enough to be huffing, but winded enough to warrant a bit of heavier breathing. 

After the feathers had moved away from her physical body of felt, the world seemed to slow to a stop. She could feel her tiredness almost overpowering her. She quickly discovered how difficult it is trying to overcome this strong tiredness. But it felt good to be tired. It brought another mix of euphoria and nostalgia to her mind. It felt…amazing. 

She began to shuffle around a bit and get herself more comfortable. Amidst her adjusting, she heard the click of something old, or vintage. 

“Begin Communication.” A voice said from somewhere inside the animatronic. 

The puppet stopped moving, and froze in place. 

W-Was that- 

“Hello, my daughter. If you are hearing this, then that means my animatronic has done as he was told. I have named this animatronic ‘Lefty’. Can you guess who inspired me?” The voice said with a chuckle.

If the girl could cry, she most certainly would. She knew this voice all too well. It could only belong to her father. And his distinctive voice was as caring, as emotional, and as comforting as ever, despite being pre-recorded. 

“My daughter, I can only imagine the confusion you’re feeling at this moment. You are like a wolf being caged against your will. Scared, confused, unable to fully understand what’s going on, and most likely desperate to find a way out. But I assure you, this animatronic is here to help you. He has been programmed to pick you up and protect you. To give you that loving hug I was unable to give you before you had passed. To heal your wounds before setting you free once again.” the voice told her. 

She smiled a bit at the words and the metaphors he was using. He hadn’t changed a bit. 

“Words cannot describe how much I miss you. I miss your laughter. I miss your confidence. I miss your fighting spirit. I miss your neverending care for other people. The way you were drawn to those who suffered the most pain. The way you listened to every word as if you were a grown woman. Most children your age would attempt to cheer up a friend or a family member with silly faces or tickling. But you were never afraid to stop what you were doing and comfort them when they needed it most. I still struggle to understand how you did it…and how you knew…” The voice continued.  

Charlie smiled a bit wider and blushed slightly upon hearing her father gush over her on tape. His voice and behavior while recording it, sounded so genuine…as if he was really right there talking to her. 

“I…” She could hear his voice breaking and going slightly higher. It sounded like he was going to start crying. “I am so sorry, Charlotte. I hope you can forgive me for what I did to you. I didn’t realize you were in trouble until it was too late. I had failed you…in more ways than one.” She could hear her father pause for a moment. “...If I could, I would turn back time and change your future. But we both know that even though so much time has gone by, we still can’t change the past.” He admitted. 

She attempted to close her eyes. Just like countless times before, she could sense her father needed comfort and reassurance. She would do anything to hug her father again. To feel comforted in his arms, and to rest her head against his belly. 

“I have set up the animatronic to start walking when the words ‘take me home’ are spoken. Lefty will only start moving when you say so. Your capture may not be what you want…but you have the freedom to control when you feel ready to return.” Henry told her. 

She smiled and took a mental note of Lefty’s commanding ability. 

“Lefty will take you back to the old pizzeria…where you will be brought back to the others you protected for so long.” Henry said. “And with that, all of you can finally be freed from the grasp of that terrible man I used to call a friend.” Henry replied. 

Just hearing such words created a sense of euphoria that quickly filled her fabricated body. A smile formed on her lips as a little giggle left her mouth. 

“We will see each other again soon, my daughter. I will have my arms open, ready to hold you the moment you arrive in heaven.” Henry said. “Together, we will all be free...forever. I promise.”

She smiled a small bit more upon hearing that. 

“End communication.” The voice cassette said before the cassette player shut the tape off. 

A big, relieving sigh left her ghost mouth the moment after the click of the cassette player filled her ears. She took some time to reflect while she processed her father’s words. Though hearing her father’s voice caused a lot of emotion to begin with, she could somewhat remember every little word he had said…and it had all hit right close to home for her. He sounded like the same man she used to know and love. The same man that used to run around with her on the playground. The same father that carried her up and played ‘airplane’ with her…The same father that carried her on his shoulders so she felt tall…

It was enough to make the most emotionless person cry…

Little sobs and toddler cries could soon be heard coming from the puppet. Being alone, she knew she could cry as loudly as she really wanted. But…she still felt like she needed to keep her cries as quiet as possible. She felt embarrassed to still be crying like this after decades of being a ghost. She felt like despite dying just shy of age 6, she already felt like she had spent a whole lifetime keeping the other ghosts safe and learning about the growing world around her. She could easily recall what each child was like, and how different they were from each other. 

Gabriel was a good kid. He loved playing with large toy trucks and watching Bob the Builder. He wouldn’t stop talking about the many moments he watched on Bob the Builder and Blues Clues. He told her often that he wanted to be what Bob was: a construction worker. He wanted to work with the big trucks, bulldozers and other equipment. He occasionally talked about the lessons he learned about building from his father who was, as his mom used to say, a “Jack of all trades”. At the time, he had no clue what it really meant. But when Cassidy had explained it to him, he proudly announced that his father was able to do everything in the world. It was really sweet and innocent to hear.  

Cassidy…she was a troubled girl. Charlie didn’t get to see her often because Cassidy’s main goal was to make her former uncle Will’s life a living hell. Now, Charlie had always known what hell was, so she could guess how Cassidy was making him suffer. But still…Charlie longed for an older girl to talk to for longer than an hour a couple times a year. But what she was able to get, managed to help her learn a couple things about her. She was a singer, and a piano player. She had taken piano lessons for 4 years already, and was getting really good at it. She was preparing for her piano recital in April. But…she sadly wouldn’t end up participating that year…or ever again, for that matter. 

Jeremy was a sweet boy. He loved playing Pokemon on his Gameboy. He loved the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and had all 4 turtle figurines. He even told her about the Smurfs and the Goofy view master reels he had. He told of how many Pokemon cards he had collected, and how good his deck was at the time. He also told her about the Ninja Turtles tv show, and how cool the characters each were. Michelangelo was the boy’s favorite, but he also appreciated Donatello. He even knew why the 4 turtles were named Michelangelo, Raphael, Donatello and Leonardo: They were ‘old people from Italy who made famous paintings over a thousand years ago’. Which…was somewhat correct. 

Susie was the best representation of a girly girl you could ever come across. She was blonde, had curly hair, and always loved wearing pink. She described her love for dolls. Barbie dolls, Rainbow Brite dolls, Cabbage Patch Kids, she had them all. She loved reading books about castles and princesses, and loved dressing up as a princess too. She loved the crowns, the dresses and the kids’ high heels. Her dream was to marry a beautiful prince and have kids of her own…words that were so sad to hear, considering the circumstances that led to her loss of life. It was enough to feel anger towards her evil uncle…and feel remorse for the girl’s dreams that were taken from her against her will. 

And Fritz…The little redhead…She always loved that freckled little face. Her favorite part about his facial features was the fact that his big glasses always increased the size of the freckles on his upper cheeks. Even after death, the boy needed his glasses. But thankfully, the glasses seemed to be stuck to his face permanently. And the nerdy personality he had, just added to the nerdy look. He was a huge fan of Star Wars, and loved reading. His favorite subjects in school were science and social studies. And yet…he was a soft, emotional little boy. He was assertive and talked of never letting the bullies have the last laugh in school. Whether this was really true, Charlie would never be able to confirm. But his confidence was clear: He may have been short, thin and nerdy, but the boy could hold his own. No doubt about it. 

All these kids…they were her whole world for so many years. Being William Afton’s first murder victim, she took on a responsibility that only a few older kids would ever take on without constant pressure from the parents: She was their surrogate mother in a way. Their protector…their guardian angel. The only one who could really stand up against the evil man she once knew. The guardian angel made to keep the others safe from the man behind the slaughter. 

The sad part was…There were no signs of his creepy, evil nature when she was little. Even now, she cannot identify exactly when the man had noticeably changed. Truth is, she always thought Uncle William was playful and funny…and yet he was also considerate of how far to take things. He struggled with expressing his own emotions…and yet he wouldn’t stop you from expressing yours. 

She remembers a time she had scraped herself really badly on the pavement, to the point of bleeding. William came out with a warm, wet towel and told her to hold it on her knee while he carried her into the house. His words weren’t “Come on, it’s not that bad” or “Such a cry baby” like the other kids would’ve said...He talked her through the pain of the alcohol, and took his time making sure to wrap it up the right way. In fact, her uncle’s exact words during the cleaning were “As soon as your knee is wrapped, I can get you a nice cold popsicle”. And when he started wrapping her knee, he told her to “think about what color popsicle you’d want”. It was a good distraction for her…and…

It horrified her to know that the uncle who loved her in that moment, and the man who had killed her outside the pizzeria…had the exact same face and body…It was confusing for a long time, to say the least. 

Finally, She soon leaned her head down and finally let herself be subdued. “Okay.” She straightened her neck and looked forward through the right eye socket. “Let’s go home.” She told the animatronic. 

Almost immediately, the animatronic started whirring and clicking, before beginning to turn himself around. The movement was smooth. A little rigid, but quite smooth compared to the many Freddy’s that came before him. The animatronic started to walk forward, clicking occasionally as it achieved one task, and moved onto the next task. 

Vrrrrrr- *click*...Vrrrrrrrr- *click*...Vrrrrrrr- *click*...Vrrrrrrrr- *click*...

The clicking filled her ears over and over again. But she didn’t mind. She actually found the clicking sounds rather comforting. The way the machine was able to calculate where it was going, was mind-boggling to her. She knew she would never understand the technology, even if she desperately tried to. So…she just let the animatronic take her to the pizzeria’s old location. 

Vrrrrrr- *click*...Vrrrrrrrr- *click*...Vrrrrrrr- *click*...

Vrrrrrr- *click*...Vrrrrrrrr- *click*...

Vrrrrrr- *click*...

This one...was quite difficult to write, honestly. I knew it was going to be a challenge when I took it, and I'm really thankful to the person who sent me the prompt, for sending me this challenge. I think the reason this one was so difficult to write...was because of the idea of using tickling to subdue someone. The idea of subduing someone with tickling often rubbed me the wrong way, making me doubtful and unsure even when I was writing my favorite part of every fanfic: The tickles.

I suppose...that my boundaries for writing have changed a lot since I started back in 2020. The reason I went weeks without uploading a fanfic...was mainly because this fanfic was really making me think about where my boundaries lie in 2023, and how far I can make the characters go without overstepping and making things awkward. This fanfic also gave me the chance to really explore both Henry Emily and Charlie Emily's character arcs and their individual maturity over the span of 30-40 years, and how much they failed to properly reconcile before being separated forever. This turned out to be a really heavy fanfic, despite only being given a 2-sentence prompt. And despite the uncomfortable feelings I had with it...I am super proud of this one.

So...thank you, Shadow Anon, for suggesting this prompt to me. I appreciated the challenge.

[goldenbear228]

Update thingy 1.I keep reading tickle fics...and 2.I keep reading ‘legs/leg’ as ‘leggy/lefty’s’ and 3.I cant stop (even if I could I wouldn’t it’s funny to me)

Update thingy 2. I haven’t started on my lee/ler simon and max tickle art yet and won’t (for the night idk when I’ll get it done srry)

Edit: THE FRIGGN TAGS I WISH THERE COULD PUT SN SELD IN

[weirdonamedlee]

Me, a radical left econ major: I won’t shake my ass for any capitalist propaganda songs

*How Bad Can I Be? by the Onceler exists*

Me: *proceeds to shake ass shamefully*

[coronarycorsair]

This was gonna be a reddit comment but reddit sucks and the person I was replying to 100% wouldn’t have appreciated it so I’m posting it here instead.

I've always found it hard to give a really good analogy for being trans, but if you’ll indulge me:

Imagine a world where at birth, your hands are measured and whichever has slightly greater musculature is considered to be your dominant hand (and they *nearly* always get it right), and this is considered very important in this society. It's recorded on your birth certificate. Left-handed babies have their rooms pained yellow, right-handed babies have their rooms painted green. Right-handed people wear tight-fitting clothes and large hats, left-handed people wear flowey, drapey clothes and grow their hair long. Righties act THIS way, lefties act THAT way, and so on. There are even different pronouns to refer to people by handedness (Re/Rer/Rers and Le/Ler/Lers, I imagine). Schoolchildren are taught to write with their nondominant hand tied behind their back, because to be seen using your off-hand in public is very gauche.

Now imagine you've been assigned right-handed at birth, but are in fact left-handed. Maybe the doctor was a little loose with the measuring tape, maybe you had abnormal muscle development that didn't match your neurological development in the expected way.

So you go through school and of course they can tell what handedness you were assigned at birth, and your kindergarten teacher ties the other hand behind your back and you start learning how to write. Now, you're having a bit more trouble than some other students, but you KNOW you're right-handed. People have been telling you that your whole life. You feel like it might be more comfortable to use your left hand, because of how the desk is arranged or because you strained your right arm playing soccer the other day. Maybe it's because your best friend is left-handed and you think you just want to be more like ler. Whatever excuse you can think of to silence those nagging thoughts. So you press on and your writing looks kind of weird, but you keep practicing.

You’re pretty jealous of those lefties on the other side of the playground... but you’re not sure why. It doesn’t make sense, because you’re right-handed. Obviously.

One evening you're working on your homework, trying really hard to focus on writing as it's always been a struggle for you, and get a crazy idea. You look around to make sure no one is looking... and you grab the pencil with your left hand. And you start writing. After so many years, at first it looks worse than your right-handed writing, because you've practiced it so much, but it comes to you so much easier. After a few hours practicing your writing is better than ever! You realize for the first time... you are actually left-handed.

So you go about telling people, and you get all kinds of responses that, to you--knowing for a fact that you write far better with your left hand--seem completely nonsensical:

- "Oh, you don't have to use your left-hand to grow your hair long, you know! Handedness-non-conforming behaviour isn't the social suicide it used to be" - "It says right-handed on your birth certificate. You can't change your handedness! That's just science! Facts don’t care about your feelings!" (You point out that there is in fact widespread agreement in the medical community that handedness assigned at birth does not have 100% accuracy, but they’re too busy misreading a Swedish study from 1974 to hear you) - "Why are you trying to perv on lefties in the lefty bathroom? You righties are all a bunch of sexual predators" - "You can't FORCE me to call you by left-handed pronouns! That's compelled speech! I have rights!" - “I can’t believe you’d do that in public. In front of CHILDREN! HOW WILL I EXPLAIN THIS TO MY CHILDREN!?” - "Why would you want to change your handedness? Don't you know how much paperwork that involves? Don’t you know how expensive left-handed stuff is? I buy righty clothes because their pockets are bigger." - "God made you right-handed and you can't change that!" -  "There are only TWO kinds of handedness!" (you're not even ambidextrous so you're not sure why they're saying this to you in the first place) - Your parents threaten to kick you out of the house if they see you using your left hand. "We raised a righty! It's like you're killing my right-handed child!" your dear mother cries as you tell her the news. - To change your handedness to lefty on your birth certificate you need two psychologists' letters confirming that you've been living as a left-handed person for at least six months - The rest of your life is spent hearing yourself be described as a "righty who identifies as a lefty" by well-meaning idiots until your ears bleed.

And all you can say to these people is "I don't know, man. I write with my left hand. That's all I can really tell you.