#Five Nights at Freddy's: Nothing Remains

[tenebraevesper]

Tales From The Pizzaplex Story Preview (Five Nights at Freddy's: Obsolete)

As I had announced in my previous post, I will be adapting certain stories from Tales From The Pizzaplex, and I had decided to write out the previews for each story. As I had said before, the stories won't be adapted word-for-word, but will be referenced to an extent or have elements from them picked out and arranged to fit better The Untold Story canon.

Note, the previews are not listed in chronological order.

#1: Lally's Game: Story #3: Under Construction

When Fazbear Entertainment attempts to attract new patrons with their AR Dome attraction, only to disappoint them by keeping it ''Under Construction'' for far longer than it should be. Sam decides to investigate the issue, only to learn that someone is already inside the AR Dome.

#2: Happs: Story #1: Help Wanted

When Matt brings up the existence of the Five Nights at Freddy's video games and their lore, everyone begins to question how a random game developer would have access to such information.

#2: Happs: Story #2: HAPPS

Happs, a new animatronic built to assist the Daycare Attendant, ends up seemingly missing somewhere within the inside playground. When Sam and Springtrap decide to find him, they are met with a grisly discovery.

#3: Somniphobia: Story #2: Pressure

After finding a spare springlock suit at the Urban Legends Role Play Auditorium, Springtrap decides to investigate the matter. His investigation leads him to a suspicious Pizzaplex employee who seems to have a concerning interest in the children that visit the attraction.

#4: Submechanophobia: Story #2: Animatronic Apocalypse

Sam and Matt get invited to the Fazbear Fan Club, a club in their high school whose members are dedicated to solve the mysterious and complex lore behind the Five Nights at Freddy's video games. While Sam refuses, Matt accepts, curious about their activities. What starts as a fun game suddenly comes to a grim conclusion when some club members want to have a real FNaF experience.

#5: The Bobbiedots Conclusion: Story #1: GGY

When Sammy comes across several arcades that have an unusually high score, he decides to investigate the player behind those scores, GGY. However, as Sammy, Michael and Elizabeth attempt to learn more about GGY, they make a very disturbing discovery. Who is GGY and why does everyone involved with him disappear without a trace?

#5: The Bobbiedots Conclusion: Story #2: The Storyteller

When Fazbear Entertainment decides to take shortcuts with its creative development by using an artificial intelligence, The Storyteller, as a new form of entertainment, Vanessa and Glitchtrap take advantage of the new system set up gain control over the whole Mega Pizzaplex.

#6: Nexie: Story #1: Nexie

When a series of glitches almost causes a full shutdown of the Mega Pizzaplex, Sam is forced to work overtime to ensure that the animatronics work properly. However, when she discovers that someone has been sneaking around the Buddytronics Boutique, the situation quickly becomes a race to save a little girl from her Buddytronic friend.

#6: Nexie: Story #2: Drowning

One should not dwell in the virtual reality for too long, or else they might become permanently trapped. When Michael loses sight of his siblings during a game of hide-and-seek, he comes across a VR attraction that has already claimed one victim. Will he become the next one?

#6: Nexie: Story #3: The Mimic

Sam and Matt learn that Hurricane is once again plagued by a string of mysterious murders, with the murderer preferring to tear apart its victim's limbs and hiding its identity inside mascot costumes. At the same time, Springtrap comes across an old man, Edwin Murray, who seeks to redemption for the mistakes he committed in the past, unaware of the connection he might have with the former co-owner of the Fazbear Franchise.

#7: Tiger Rock: Story #1: Tiger Rock

Relieved to see that The Storyteller being taken down, but also aware of the possible damages, Sam attempts to focus on her work, when another accident involving a white tiger with a green and blue eye inside the VR booth happens. Fearing that Glitchtrap has already spread his influence, Sam goes on to confront the animatronic known as Tiger Rock.

#7: Tiger Rock: Story #2: The Monty Within

After being convinced by her friend Cassie to go on another date, Emma picks the Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex, her daughter's workplace. During a game of Fazcade Tag-Team, her date starts acting erratically, with Emma ending it then and there. However, she soon finds herself dealing with stalker who is obsessed with her and has a familiar red mohawk hairstyle.

#8: B7-2: Story #2: Alone Together

Sam has never minded her involvement with the supernatural, not even when she had to deal with the children from the infamous Missing Children Incident. However, it is a completely different matter when the spirit in question doesn't even know that he is dead. Even after offering him her help, things don't go as planned. Also, what are those entities that are stalking the corridors of the Pizzaplex?

#8: B7-2: Story #3 Dittophobia

Hell is not a place, but a state of mind and varies from person to person. For Elizabeth, it is her death at Circus Baby's hands and desire to make her father proud. For Sammy, it is his battle with the Nightmare Animatronics and death within Fredbear's jaws. For Michael, it is the destruction of his family and the guilt he carried for years. For William, it is the inevitable confrontation with himself and the repetition of his past mistakes. When they realize that the past is repeating itself, they are forced to make a stand.

Still, this Hell claims another victim - Sam, who refuses to be abandoned again.

Tales From The Pizzaplex: The Mimic Epilogues #1-8

Ricky's Wonder Shack had been standing abandoned for months, so naturally, it becomes a place of interest of a group of teenagers who want to investigate it. Unfortunately for them, the abandoned restaurant already has a resident, who still needs to complete the task he had been given:

''Break off limbs and heads. Pile them up. Easy peasy. Got it.''

#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story (Masterlist)

#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story #Five Nights at Freddy's: Masterpiece #Five Nights at Freddy's: Salvaged #Five Nights at Freddy's: Nothing Remains #Five Nights at Freddy's: Obsolete #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #five nights at freddy's security breach #william afton #springtrap #glamrock freddy #glitchtrap #fnaf vanessa #michael afton #sammy afton #crying child #elizabeth afton #fnaf the mimic #fnaf gregory #tales from the pizzaplex

[confettieparfait]

one thing i never really fully understood n hope that the ruin dlc kinda expands on is how at 6m when u go to leave freddy says "do not return it will never be safe" n then gregory says "if i leave nothing will change, there will be more disappearances"

clearly they both know something is up but it's very confusing to me cos at the beginning of the game gregory is clearly scared n confused as to what's going on n freddy always kinda remains seemingly confused as to what's going on also?? but it doesn't align with that cutscene i just want ANSWERS SOOOO bad

#this is not a criticism #or a complaint #just my own pure confusion !! #i really hope the dlc ends up kinda explaining this #cos it jus happens as a conversation n then nothing changes #they both seem to remain a little bit confused #like they don't know but they do??? #fnaf #fnaf rant #not a bad rant tho #positive #fnaf fandom #fnaf sb #fnaf ruin dlc #fnaf ruin #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's security breach #five nights at freddy's ruin

[yesimwriting]

Okay?

--

A/n guess who watched the five nights at freddy's movie for matthew lillard and josh hutcherson and actually really liked it, so i wrote this :)

Summary: The one good thing about working the nightshift? You're always there when Mike gets back.

----

Your nails press into the fabric bundled on your lap. It's simple, the way you pinch and fold the corner of the blanket before straightening it again. The gesture is clearly subconscious, just something for your hands to do while your eyes remain focused on the TV screen. Mike should be doing the exact same thing.

He should be staring at the television, taking in the end of the movie you were watching when he got home from work. A classic, you had called it, expressing your shock when Mike had innocently mentioned that he'd never seen it.

Normally, a reaction like that would have left some small part of him tangled in on itself. But from you, it felt gentle. That's part of the appeal of having you around. You're warm and everything about you is so easy it circles around back to difficult.

Stop it. Mike's getting used to scolding himself on late nights and early mornings that blur together like this. He's always begging himself not to notice the way your presence manages to tug at him.

Mike swallows once, forcing his head to snap back to the screen. The credits are rolling and the only thing he's gathered is maybe the name of one character and the way you part your lips slightly to exhale when something intense happens. Great.

"See?" You turn your head, tugging at the blanket, pulling more of it onto your legs. "It's good." You shift so that you can face him, your knee briefly brushing against his leg. "Right?"

There's so much optimism in the way you're looking at him, wide eyes and an expecting, almost smile, that a part of him feels a little guilty for not having retained anything.

"It was...good," he starts slowly, his pace a beat too slow to feel natural, "But I don't know about classic."

Your mouth falls open in a dramatized display of shock before your lips pull together into an offended pout. "You know it was that good." Not your most profound argument, but it's late and your everything's starting to feel heavier. It's taking enough energy to keep the weight of your eyelids from overpowering the desire to talk to him. "You're just being difficult."

Mike's eyebrows draw together, equal parts surprised and amused. You're not exactly closed off when you're fully coherent, but his schedule and your position as an ever growing babysitter for Abby has let him learn that a drowsy you doesn't shy away from bluntness. You'll call him out more openly in a way that you'd just keep in your head if you were better rested.

"Difficult?" You nod, solidifying your stance. He lets out a partial sigh that's meant to hold the place of a laugh. "I only saw the last fifteen minutes."

You frown dismissively, like Mike should know better than to see that fact as relevant. "Then I'll have to show you--" Your sentence is broken by a small yawn that you cover with your hand. "The rest some time."

The potential for intentional plans hits him hard enough to briefly chase away his drowsiness. "Yeah." He blinks hard, trying not to think about it too much. You say a lot of things when you're tired. "Some time."

You nod, the motion distinct, like you guys really have just settled something important. A cruel sort of warmth begins to crawl up his chest and settles against his neck. He needs to let it go, to get back to only seeing you as an outgoing, friendly face that's always willing to help him out with Abby. Nothing good can come from him developing feelings for you that are more than friendly. He'd mess it up in one way or another and you'd walk away and he...

Mike can't deal with the thought of you walking away. And more importantly, Abby shouldn't have to.

"Good." You push yourself so that your back's off the couch. The blanket shifts, nearly sliding over your knee before you catch it. "I should--I should get going...it's late."

Right. This part of the night. The awareness of what comes next constricts his airways. It must, there's no other explanation for the way he struggles to take a full breath. "You didn't drive today."

For the first time since the movie ended, you drop your attention to your lap. "Uh...no." You squeeze your hands together. "The engine's still a little..."

Mike sighs. Sometimes it feels like your car is more of a topic of conversation than actual guaranteed mode of transportation. Maybe if you let him pay you for babysitting, you wouldn't constantly be fighting with an engine that's likely significantly older than Abby.

The thought of you being forced to brave the cold whenever your car's having what you usually refer to as an "episode" digs at him strangely. Mike also doesn't love the thought of you walking here alone so late.

"Maybe if you let me pay you for watching Abby." The sentence is more of a huff than Mike wanted it to be, a pinch of real annoyance leaking into his voice.

You frown. "It's too late for this." The TV's low lighting doesn't let Mike read your expression fully. "And I already told you, it feels weird to charge friends for favors."

The word friend sticks out in a way Mike doesn't get. It's meaning is suddenly too abstract and concrete all at once. "Weirder than guessing whether or not your truck's going to work every morning?"

You roll your eyes, pulling more of the blanket onto your lap. "It's not every morning." He raises his eyebrows at that. "Seriously. Rebecca is fine." The name nearly forces him to abandon his point. Abby had picked it out early on into knowing you. "She's just occasionally temperamental."

"Occasionally." He ignores your heavy glare. "You could..." Mike's throat goes dry. He knows what the next part in your usual exchange is. "Stay over..." The words feel much too slow, too careful, to come off as casually as Mike wanted them to. "If you want."

Staying over used to be as casual as an extra throw blanket on the couch. Then, overly cold weather paired with difficulty sleeping and the kind of thoughtless decisions people only ever make while half asleep morphed it into something else. When it feels like more work than it's worth to get you back home, the two of you usually end up in Mike's room.

It's all perfectly innocent and carefully unspoken. The two of you barely let your hands touch and even when you're genuinely half asleep, you don't say anything you wouldn't say anywhere else, and yet it's still different. Sometimes it's different enough to help Mike sleep better than the pills.

You nod, eyes now focused on the the throw blanket. Something about your expression makes Mike wonder if you're debating something. "See? If I let you pay me, I'd have to worry about things like overstaying my welcome."

Mike nods, not quite meeting your gaze. "Like that'd stop you."

Playing into the bit, you pretend to gasp before sitting up a little straighter. You raise a fist, gently bumping your knuckles against his arm. The gesture leaves that uneasy warmth clawing its way up Mike's neck.

----

You can't remember the ceiling of Mike's room becoming familiar. The soft grooves that you have to squint to make out in the dark, invisible shapes that you pretend to trace when you need a distraction.

Usually, what you need to be distracted from is Mike's proximity. Tonight, though, Mike's so curled in on himself in a way that has to--at best--border on uncomfortable. That paired with his stiffer than usual demeanor has to mean something.

You don't get why Mike's positioning reads as concerning to you until it clicks. He's pulled into himself like he wants to disappear.

The thought cracks at your heart. You and Mike are a lot more comfortable than you were when you first met. But it hasn't been that long, and you get the sense that Mike and Abby move as a family unit that keep outsiders at a safe distance. Not cold or unwelcoming, just cautious. There's so much you appreciate about their friendship, about Mike, and you know that it'd be easy to blow up.

Maybe you can pretend to be too close to sleep to notice and cautiously bring up your concern in the morning. A passive comment, an opening that Mike can take if he wants to.

But then your body betrays the rational thoughts of your mind and you turn your head enough to see the slope of Mike's back. It hurts enough to force you to break your silence. "Mike?"

A beat of silence that has you contemplating the possibility that he already fell asleep like that. That could be a sign, the universe's way of intervening so that you don't ruin a relationship that has yet been given the opportunity to cement itself.

"Yeah," he mumbles, voice low and uncharacteristically raspy. Mike doesn't turn over, which might not mean anything, but still makes you frown. "You okay?"

The question snaps you out of your train of thought. Of course Mike's wondering if you're okay. It's not that the two of you never talk before falling asleep, but the two of you have been quiet for so long, and now you're bothering him because of--what? A gut feeling?

"Yeah," you whisper back, a little too quickly, "Yeah, I'm--" You cut yourself off, not sure where you're going with this. You're not even sure what you're worried about, or what you want to ask. "Are you?" Echoing the question makes you feel much smaller than you did a second ago. "Okay?"

Another stretch of silence. "Yeah."

It'd be easy to leave it at that. You should leave it at that. "Okay." You swallow, trying to figure out what you're even looking for. "Because if--if you--" You sigh, eyes focusing on his back. "I don't know what it is, and it might be in my head, but you seem kind of..." You trail off, incapable of explaining it any better.

Mike sighs. You don't know what to make of the sound until the mattress shifts beneath the adjustment of his weight. Mike moves so that he's lying flat on his back. It's instinct to push yourself back to give him the space he needs to adjust. Despite your exhaustion, you lift your head, propping yourself up on one elbow.

His eyes are open. You're surprised by how coherent he seems. "I'm okay."

You study him much more openly than you've ever let yourself. His tone is sure enough and even though it's dark, you can feel that his eyes are on you. It's convincing...a little too convincing when he could have just pointed out that you're acting kind of crazy.

"Abby's right," you mumble, "You're a bad liar."

"I'm not--" Mike stops himself, finding it a little harder to hold your gaze and keep his voice steady. There's so much patience in the way you're watching him. "I'm fine, just tired."

You don't fully believe him, but a part of you wants to and there's no way you're getting anywhere tonight. You'll keep trying, and when Mike's ready to talk, he'll talk. Rationally, you know that letting him think you believe him isn't the end of the world. It's not like you're giving up on him. But the word tired had come out so fragilely.

Without your permission, the hand that's not tucked against your cheek reaches forward. Your fingers brush against the back of his wrist. The contact leaves air tangled in your lungs. When the world doesn't end and Mike doesn't pull away or give any indication that there's something wrong, you start to intertwine your fingers. Mike lets you, so stiff you'd consider him passive if it wasn't for the way he squeezed your hand back.

Another wave of silence takes over, this one lasting so long you're not sure what's supposed to come next. Maybe you should have laid back down and fallen asleep already. "You guys talk about me?"

The question's almost enough to make you laugh. "Yeah," it's broken up through a partial giggle as you move to lay down again, "The other day, right after you left Abby started th--" His head is turned towards you, eyebrows pulled together skeptically. Maybe some things are left better said just between you and Abby. "Never mind, I--I forgot that when you leave Abby and I just sit in respectful silence until you get back."

"Mhm," he breathes, his hold on your hand briefly tightening in a comforting squeeze. "Are you going to sleep now?"

The question reminds you of the heaviness pulling at your eyelids. "Yeah." You're satisfied with ending it here. For now. "Goodnight."

He lets out a huff of air that you can't interpret. His thumb drags over your knuckles slowly. "Goodnight."

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson #fnaf movie #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fluff

[csilis]

Five Nights At Freddy's William Afton x F!Reader A/N: The continution of Until Death Do Us Part, but can be read separetely. And yes, this one is longer. But at least the characters are talking now.

You left him in that backroom, choking on his blood and dying, never looking back. Still, that night haunted your dreams in ways you could never imagine. There was deep inside a part of you that genuinely loved that man. A part that thought he was only just broken and needed to be mended. But you buried it deep, only letting that part’s guilt torment you in your dreams.

What you knew is that when the management found him in the morning they decided to seal off that room and forget that William Afton ever existed. You wished you could erase him from your life just like they did from theirs.

To avenge your little sister, Cassidy, you had to become a monster just like him. You had to dirty your hands, be his partner in crime. It was the only way to make him think you madly loved him. And when the perfect moment came you betrayed him and took your revenge.

After making peace with what you’ve done, you thought it was finally over. But fate is a funny thing after all. Forgetting that knowing him, he will definitely return one day, you spent the next ten years helping those who have been wronged by William. And boy, it was a long list.

But in the end you circled back to this shithole as you realised that since that day, you didn’t get any older. Like as if you stopped aging. So you went back to his old house for his research papers, thinking that you might find some kind of answers in them.

In his old house you found his son, Michael. He wasn’t looking like he used to be when you two briefly met all those years ago. But you could tell that he’s been through hell. Maybe even worse than that because now he was a ghost, possessing his own rotting body.

He was also surprised to see that you haven’t aged at all. But wasn’t that really when he heard your story of you taking your revenge.

“That fucker deserved it. Maybe even more” That was Michael’s honest reaction to your story. You could only laugh at his response. He then offended to help, thinking that you deserved the same peace just like everyone else.

After looking around, you two found his old notes about the why and how of his killing spree over the years. What started as a promise to put his own damned child back together ended up in the death of many others, so that he could make remnant out of them, thinking that will bring back the children he have lost. On the last pages of the notebook he even wrote about you. It wasn’t what you thought he would write. Professing eternal love so deep that he even thought about just quitting altogether to start a new life with you. But you knew it well that he was way too deep for that. 

Nevertheless you were surprised as you always thought he too played the part of a man madly in love with his woman. You thought this was a game where the one who fools the other sooner wins. But it was not the case. He genuinely loved you. That bastard! 

In the end what you two come up with that the remnant must be keeping you in the same age, making you some kind of immortal. But when that night you dreamt about your sister, you realised. Cassidy was the one keeping you this way, so when Afton comes back you will have the strength to put an end to this.

So you spent the next two decades trying to think of ways how to kill him for good. Send his soul to hell. Hell… that’s what you needed. To burn him until nothing remains.

Soon, 30 years have passed since your cursed wedding at the backroom of the Freddy Fazebear’s pizzeria. And when that same place is reopened as a horror attraction, you knew he will soon be back. So you and Michael signed up for the night guard job and planned how you two are gonna end it.

On the second night he was there and your heart started to beat faster even at the sight of him. Though you didn’t really see anything as he tried to hide from the cameras the best he could. 

“Do you wanna meet him?” Michael asked while looking at you. He knew the history you two shared more than anyone.

“Not now” you quietly said. You then pushed the button and the laughing of children could be heard in the next room, where William soon headed because of the programming of his suit.

“He looks so trapped in that suit. Hm… Let’s call this amalgamation Springtrap” came up Michael with the name idea as you two were sitting bored in the office.

“Fitting” you nod in agreement as you turn a page in your favourite book. Hours pass and you are still reading as Michael fell asleep on the desk, while watching the monitors. Noticing this, you put your book down, deciding it would be time to meet your cursed husband.

Walking past the monitors, you take note where he is now and continue your journey towards that way. Picking up the taser you confidently walked through the halls of the horror attraction.

When you close your eyes and go to sleep And it's down to the sound of a heartbeat

When you heard the song coming from the speakers throughout the whole building, you froze for a minute, only to realise that Michael was up and signalling this by playing the same song you've been dancing to with William on your first date.

"Fuck you Michael" you quietly stated as you composed yourself and took a deep breath as you turned right in the end of the corridor to come face to face with your husband.

He takes a good look at you, his mechanical eyes focusing on your unaged face. Even though 30 years has passed, you were still the same. Not like him. His suit rotted away, leaving even more wires and springs to be exposed. You could see through the holes how his flesh stuck to the metal, making him one with the suit.

You could hear the clancing of the gears as he tried to open his mouth, no doubt to speak to you. But it soon came to a halt as the rusty metal did not let him do what he wanted. However, he was William, so he continued anyway.

"It's been... been... a while" he finally managed to say, his quiet words loudly echoing between these walls. You did not say anything. He didn't deserved to hear your voice. "It took... took me long to... to realise. You are... the sister... the sister of Cas..."

"DON'T YOU DARE TO MENTION HER NAME!" you exploded, anger apparent on your cheeks as you held the taser higher and ignited it, electricity cracking between the two tiny metal rods. "She was just a child and you...!" you yelled, tears threatening too fall even after so many years. But you had to keep your shit together. "You gutted her like an animal and stuffed her into one of the suits" your voice dropped and became so calm that even William was suprised by it.

"So revenge... it is."

"The word revenge cannot even give you what I've planned for you. This time I will send your soul straight to hell and stay there to torture it until the end of time" you said, laughing leaving your lips as you took some steps towards him. You weren't afraid. From him? Never.

As you advanced towards William Afton, a sense of determination and purpose welled up within you. The past three decades had been a relentless pursuit of revenge, and now the moment of reckoning was at hand.

"That... that will be... heaven then" he smiled, or at least attempted to smile. "Because... I get to be with you... forever"

You couldn't believe the audacity of his words. Even now, he clung to the delusion that he could be with you for eternity. It was sickening.

"You are truly mad, Afton" you whispered, your voice dripping with contempt.

"Don't say... that you are... not..." he said and you had to admit that he was right. He infected you and now you were just as insane and bloodthirsty.

"I'm not saying it, love" you quietly answered, not even noticing that the part which still loved him was showing.

With a swift movement, you lunged at Springtrap, ready to push the taser into his suit, but your attempt was short-lived as he quckly grabbed your waist.

"You... can't... escape me" he wheezed, his words coming out in painful gasps. "We'll... be together... always..."

"Always, Afton?" you scoffed, your anger boiling over. "The only thing that will be eternal is your torment in the deepest, darkest pits of hell."

"I... I love... when you... determined like... like this" he whispered, pulling you close and giving you some kind of twisted kiss. And the worst part was... that you liked it.

You tell me that you want me You tell me that you need me

The song still went on and it made you even more unsure of your feelings right now. Conflicting emotions coursed through you. The memories of your twisted relationship with Afton, the years of seeking revenge, and the disturbing connection you still felt for him... it all clashed.

As the song played on, you found yourself grappling uncertainty. Afton's words and the sensation of his touch stirred something deep within you, a part of you that somehow loved him. But you couldn't allow that vulnerability to cloud your judgment.

So you had to trick him once again. So you kissed him back, knowing that this was the only way to get close enough to carry out your plan. As you deepened the kiss, you could see the surprise in Afton's mechanical eyes. He believed he had won you over with his twisted charm, but little did he know that this was your opportunity to get the upper hand. You could taste the desperation in his kiss, the longing for a love that could never be.

"You were always good at playing games, love. But the rules have changed since then..." Breaking away from the kiss, you reached for the taser with your free hand. You had to end this, for now at least. So you pressed the taser against his rotting flesh and activated it.

You watched him silently suffer from the electicity and twitch uncontollably. It felt great.

"You will... will be... back..." he whispered to you in pain. "Because you... you always come back... back to me" he then despite the pain managed to laugh before he shortcircuited and fell to the floor.

"Two down. Four more nights to go" you said turning around and going back into the office. You will make his life a living hell, here... and the other side too once you burned this fucking place down.

Word counter: 1857 Characters: 10037

#fnaf #fnaf x reader #william afton x reader #william afton x you #william afton #fnaf cassidy #five nights at freddy's #fnaf x y/n #springtrap #fnaf 3 #The_Revenge_Saga

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Susie (New Meat Pt. 2)

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x Security!Reader

Warnings: nightmares, trauma, ptsd, child death mentioned, dark dark shit, sh mentioned, non-sh scars mentioned, animal death mentioned, more-so based off movie, some game based stuff in it

Words: 1630

Summary: You introduce Mike and Abby to the gang.

New Meat

You knew you were asleep. Aware that this was all a dream. That didn't prevent you from being utterly terrified in that moment. Every joint was locked in place, unyielding. You'd been doing so well too since you started getting regular sleep. Well, make that two nights worth of sleep but that was still a big deal for you!

A little girl with pigtails is drawing on the sidewalk, chalk in hand. You sit across from her, warmth of the sun on your back as you focus on your own chalksterpiece. Susie's tiny chihuahua dog is relaxed on the front lawn. Yet the moment Carl heard anything he would jump to his feet and start barking.

Simpler times that you craved to go back to. Before you learned what murder was.

From the kitchen window, your mom calls for you. When you turn back around to face Susie, in her place is Chica. You knew the red stains along the seams of her metal suit wasn't rust. It was blood.

Clanking down on hands and knees, Chica scrapes along the sidewalk over to you. A hand held out imploringly for you to take. But you were scared. Scared of this thing. Where was your friend? Where was Susie?

They never found her body- that's what the adults whispered when they thought you weren't paying attention. Susie's parents were besides themselves.

When its beak opens, only a shriek emerges; nothing to denote that any part of it had ever been human.

Having techniques for when such nightmares plague your sleep (which was often), you're able to pull yourself out of the nightmare; eyes opening wildly in the real world.

Your small studio was quiet save for the occasional sounds coming from outside. Checking the clock verified that you were up way too early. Work wouldn't be for another five hours. You'd only gotten three hours of sleep.

Unable to remain in your bed, you decide to throw on your street clothes, microwave some breakfast burritos and head to Freddy's. Just to check in on Mike. You wouldn't acknowledge to even yourself that it was because you were too scared to go back to bed.

From his disheveled appearance, you can tell Mike had been dozing on the job. You'd wait to scold him later. Instead you hold up the plastic container you put the burritos in. "Thought you could use some company."

His brows crease like he knew that wasn't the real reason you were here. Mike didn't ask any questions and just let you in.

"How's your third night treating you?" You easily make a beeline for the security room (checking the halls as you did so). Safely inside the musky room, you claim your usual chair and place your food container on the desk. To your surprise in the security room a makeshift fort had been erected. From inside you could see a small girl staring back at you. You stop dead in your tracks.

"Please don't tell Mr. Raglan." Mike quickly explained his situation with his usual babysitter. With a hand he implores his sister to come out so she could properly meet you.

Abby crawls out from her tent and shyly rushes over to her brother.

"Nice to meet you Abby. Had I known you'd be here I would have brought another burrito." You chuckle, holding your hand out to her.

"Mike's not gonna get in more trouble, is he?" Abby regards your hand with distant curiosity. Her big, brown eyes immediately endeared her to you.

When you'd clocked in for your day shift, you'd opened up the restaurant to find a complete mess. Vandalized. You had Vanessa on speed dial and she was quick to drive her patrol car over. Accusingly, neither of you could help but glance over at the animatronic gang who innocently kicked at the rubble without any explanations.

"I'm really sorry about this morning. I could have sworn I locked everything up when my shift ended." Mike is starting to blabber about Vanessa showing up at his place to inform him of the break in. How she'd found a bottle of his sleeping medication at the scene of the crime. Well, Carl found it and nearly swallowed the bottle whole had you not bravely held open his mouth while Vanessa reached her arm in to grab it.

"What's done is done." You shrug. "At least cleaning up gave me something to do." Whatever happened to the vandals, the animatronics obviously took care of them.

Mike's gawking at you; did Vanessa chew him out that badly? Must have since he was shocked to see how calmly you were receiving the news. Even Abby remained apprehensive, waiting for your cool demeanor to crack.

To break the tension you release an airy laugh. "Relax. You're not gonna get fired from that. Sucked that it happened, but it's something that eventually does and you have to learn from it. That's all. Now, are you guys hungry? Abby can have my burrito."

Abby's still gazing at you, as if she wasn't sure of what to make of you yet. No, like she's reading you.

"You know them." She tilts her head up to stare at you.

Mike seems more disturbed by this than you do. His brows are pinched in distress. "Who does she know?"

An iciness runs up the rod of your spine.

She smiles. "My friends."

You wish you could keep a calm composure but your gut feeling was telling you who she was talking about. Your eyes widen and a small smile curls against your lips. If their spirit have been contacting her. . .

"You wanna go say hi?"

Mike is still standing in the middle of the party room, frozen to the spot as you introduce Abby to the gang. He'd never seen Abby so happy. Not in a long time has she smiled so big and bright that she looks like a completely different kid. He wished he could will his legs to start moving so he could stand next to you. But Mike just couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Bonnie keeps an attentive eye on Mike. Untrusting of this boy who walked around in a similar security guard uniform.

You pat his arm, drawing his red eyes over to you. "He's a friend." Bonnie was always the most wary of the animatronic ghosts. While he doesn't seem quite as convinced, at least Bonnie moves his gaze away from Mike and back to Abby who is promptly drawing pictures for everyone.

"Chica says you're her best friend." Abby comments, her focus trained on her notepad. "That the two of you played together all the time."

"We still play together all the time." You correct and Chica lifts her large yellow head. Even after all those years you still didn't quite know how to address her. Sometimes you interchange the names. You'll call her Susie one minute then Chica the next.

From one of the skeeball games, you pick up a ball and weigh it in your hands. From his perch on Chica's hand, Carl Cupcake stirs at the sight of you holding a ball. If he still had a tail, it would have been going a hundred miles a minute.

You hand it to Abby and explain to her "Carl likes to play fetch."

"The cupcake?"

You nod and look up to Chica. "Why don't you guys take her to the arcade? Show her your favorite games." In her own way, Chica smiles at you though others wouldn't be able to view it as such.

Freddy takes Abby by the hand and they lead her away from the main party room to give you and Mike some privacy.

"Suppose I should explain?"

"An explanation would be appreciated." He mumbles and both of you sit at a dusty booth. "What the hell is going on?"

"Vanessa told you about the kids that went missing in the 80's here." Your hands run along the length of the table. Remembering back to a time that seemed so long ago. "Well, one of them was my friend Susie. Their spirits inhabit the animatronics."

Mike's fingers are tented, trying to absorb what you tell him. "Their spirits. So they were-"

"Murdered." You finish and catch his eyes. Such tired eyes. But they had been like that even on his first day. The sleeping medication found at Freddy's told you enough about his disturbing sleep patterns. "Most likely here too. Susie was my next door neighbor growing up. We played all the time and she was my best friend. I still remember going to her wake. No bodies were ever recovered but her parents still held a funeral service for her."

"Jesus Christ. . . and I brought Abby here. . ." Mike groans and rubs over his temples with his fingers.

"You couldn't very well leave her alone at home." Wanting to smooth away the worry that was etching across his face. Your gaze roves over to where the animatronics had left with Abby. Overall they were docile. Only once in a blue moon did they show a type of aggressiveness toward you. Like they forgot who they were at their center.

Unconsciously you push your fingers past your sleeve to feel the multitude of scars that crisscrossed the soft side of your forearm. Many of them were caused by your own hand. But the biggest and most jagged of them was courtesy of Bonnie. Uneasiness begins to gnaw at you the more you think about Abby alone with them. While they may have been gentle a majority of the time, anything could happen where they could snap and attack her.

Not wanting to alarm Mike, you calmly stand and motion with your head. "Lets go see what they're up to."

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #five nights at freddys movie #five nights at freddys #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's x reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf fandom #fnaf movie #fnaf #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf mike schmidt #fnaf mike schmidt x reader #fnaf reader insert #fnaf mike schmidt fanfiction #fnaf mike schmidt fanfic

[d10nyx]

commissions

hi ! thanks so much for taking the time to read this :) i'm opening up commissions for fics (bot requests are free. see pinned to check if they're open). there's absolutely no obligation - i'm eternally grateful that people even read my silly fics, so thank you all !!

i can post commissions or send them directly to you - you can choose to remain anonymous or get tagged in the post. the commission is for you, so i'm happy to do whatever you want in regards to you recieving them <3

please contact me in some way before commissioning me to discuss the idea so i can get an idea of exactly what you want and make sure i'm comfortable with the idea !!

i'm accepting comms through my ko-fi. tips are never expected but always insanely appreciated :3

here's my pricing:

-£5 for a short one-shot (between 500-1.5k words)

-£10 for a long one-shot (over 1.5k words)

i'll start working on comms as soon as the payment is recieved :3

before i go into what i will and won't write, i want to make something clear !! as i write for anime fandoms, i want to state i do not write aged-up characters. i have nothing against it, but i'm not comfortable with it. they have to be canonically over 18 at some point in the manga.

what i will write:

-my strength is smut fics, so i'd like to keep it to that. i don't mind having plot + smut, but i would like to only write nsfw comms to ensure they're my best writing :3

-i only write reader-inserts

-i am only comfortable writing afab/fem reader

-i am very comfortable writing dark content. here are some things i have and will write for: incest/stepcest, non-con, dub-con, ddlg, knife play, snuff, pet play, gun play, coercion, power dynamics, blood, piss, spit, vomit, gore, kidnapping... just a lot of stuff tbh

what i won't write:

-i will not write underage characters under any circumstances, nor will i write for bestiality/zoophilia

-any form of bigotry

-i am not comfortable writing amab/masc reader

-here's a list of things i am uncomfortable with: scat, a/b/o, inflation, hygiene kinks, fart kinks, oviposition/egg laying

fandoms i'm most comfortable with:

resident evil + jujutsu kaisen + chainsaw man + fullmetal alchemist + detroit: become human + baldur's gate 3 + star wars episodes 1-6 + the mandolorian + five nights at freddy's

feel free to dm/send an ask if you need any clarification on anything !! commissions will take priority over anything else i post, and i'll always try my best to get them posted in a timely manner :3

lots of love,

nyx xxx

#commissions #big focus on jjk + resident evil as my main fandoms #just testing it out really #theres a chance i might remove this post dont judge me if i do 😭😭 #i feel so awkward posing this sksjsjsjs #also open to feedback bcs this tumblr is my first time posting stuff let alone opening commissions so...

[dalekofchaos]

Few things I'd change about the FNAF movie

Changes about the movie we got

Max's death would be like the classic power's out jumpscare. Foxy had his running kill, Bonnie killed someone in the closet, and Chica and Carl killed someone in the kitchen. I just feel like Freddy needed that iconic kill from the game and the perfect one would've been for Max to run into the security office when shit hits the fan. She shuts the doors, the power runs out and the Toreador March plays and then Freddy kills Max.

Golden Freddy would make more than one appearance. The first appearance would be on Mike's first night and see's Golden Freddy slumped in the corner like he usually is in the game. Second appearance would be Mike asking about it and Vanessa recoils from saying anything and looks sad... Third appearance would be Abby hugging it. Fourth appearance would be picking up Abby and the final appearance would be confronting William with the other Animatronics. We'd see Golden Freddy rise and slowly the eye lights up.

A moment in the movie where Mike survives by the 6am alarm going off and then having a panic attack

A Silver Eyes esque confrontation between William, Mike, Vanessa and Abby. What I mean is we needed something akin to Charlie and William's confrontation/conversation so the audience understands the meaning behind why William feels so comfortable inside the Spring Bonnie suit and why he put the mask back on. Yes we the fans know why, but the fans who have no idea about FNAF don't and also an explanation as to why the children follow Afton, "I gave them their happiest day".

The Springlock scene is more brutal. the springlock death was good, but I felt it should've been more. Springlock failure is described as one of the worst fates anyone can experience in the FNAF universe. So show. Show it to the extent that William is screaming uncontrollably to the point where his vocal cords have been shredded and blood is just oozing out of the suit and just barely, he can put the mask on and one final moment. "I. ALWAYS. COME. BACK" With the final result being William with blood oozing out edit by Kami-Onn

When the children remember who William is, when Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy all corner Afton, Golden Freddy should be there too.

Complete rewrite of the movie

There is multiple pictures with the Yellow Rabbit. The picture we have in the movie, but with the kids tears. Then a picture with the Yellow Rabbit and the kids individually.

Vanessa isn't an Afton, just a cop doing her duty.

The basis of the plot remains the same. Mike is down on his luck and needs a job. Career Counselor Dave Miller gives him the chance to work at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

First of all Mike actually works five nights and AFTER his shift he dreams about Garrett and the kids.

Erase the Aunt Jane plotline. I have no idea where Scott and Emma was going with this and I just thought it added nothing to the overall story

The Animatronics have Silver Eyes instead of Red to show their influence under Afton's control

Golden Freddy. Like in the above, we would see more of Golden Freddy. When Mike first arrives and inspects the Animatronics, he'd notice Golden Freddy slumped up in the corner like he usually is in the games. At the end of Night One, Mike hears a familiar voice say "IT'S ME" Night Five has Golden Freddy's IT'S ME appear all over the monitors and Golden Freddy appears in the security office and causes the security doors to open. During Night 7 Golden Freddy sits up, stands and confronts Afton.

Actually deal with more horror. Each night Mike deals with a specific themed attack from the Animatronics. Night 1. No incidents, but Mike does notice that the Animatronics have moved. Night 2. Mike is attacked by Bonnie and Chica. Mike hides in the closet and Bonnie attacks. Mike bumrushes to the kitchen and runs back to the office and Chica sends the Cupcake. Night 3. Foxy. Night 4. Freddy and on the Fifth Night, all Five Animatronics break into the office like in my poster below but with Golden Freddy causing sitting in the office and causing the doors to go haywire and Mike is saved by 6am. But Mike tries to escape, the Animatronics have him cornered and he goes to the only place the Animatronics dare not look. The Safe Room and he sees it. The Yellow Bonnie costume.

Night Six, Abby gets the Animatronics to be nice to Mike and Vanessa. Vanessa realizes "It's true, they're just kids" it's a mix of the fort scene and Abby's first night. To show the Animatronics as they were, kids and not the monsters Afton turned them into. But what changes is Afton.

Final dream. The dreams stay pretty much the same, but Mike is confronted with the reality that this perfect memory he had of Garrett is a lie. "There was no abduction. You know this. We know what you did." Mike's trauma suppressed what really happened. The Bite of 83. Mike remembers what he did and who his father really is.

Night 7. Golden Freddy abducts Abby and the Animatronics plan to Springlock Abby like in the movie. Mike comes to the rescue and The Purple Man arrives. William stabs Vanessa and Mike confronts him. "I know who you are, father. "The prodigal son has returned! Mike notices the scars and asks what happened. William explains what the Springlocks are and one accident almost killed him. But he survived and since his brush with death he became obsessed with the concept of immortality and how he can always come back. He orders the children to kill Mike and Abby. They refuse. Abby changes the Yellow Rabbit drawings and the Silver eyes disappears. They know what he did. William grabs an axe and dismantles the Animatronics one by one and as he laughs with pride. He sees the ghosts. Keep in the taunting from the movie at the ghost. "LOOK HOW SMALL YOU ARE" speech and William insisting "I MADE YOU" William panics and goes to the safe room and dons the Spring Bonnie suit. He aims to kill Michael. "Bittersweet, but fitting" and before he can land the killing blow, rain seeps into the Pizzeria. William is Springlocked. William is in agonizing pain, scream, gurgling and blood seeping everywhere. Mike watches his father slowly die and William's final words being "I ALWAYS COME BACK!". Mike drags him into the Safe Room and locks him away. William barely alive screams "MICHAEL! DON'T YOU LEAVE ME HERE!"

The final scene of this movie is the ghosts and William one by one. We see them all fade away and the final thing William sees is Cassidy and Garrett.

#Five Nights At Freddy's #FNAF #FNAF Movie #Freddy Fazbear #William Afton #Mike Schmidt #Vanessa Shelly #Golden Freddy #My Changes

[tiny-smallest]

FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY’S RECOMMENDATIONS

I promised fic recommendations like a week or two ago and I'm only getting it to it now but ayyooooooooo here we go! Here are my favorite Sun and Moon fics, asked for by @spama and then it was like well shit let me just dump all my Five Nights At Freddy's recommendations here. They contain a mix of tropes, some of which contradict each other (I enjoy exploring different characterizations, but you’ll notice a lot of these have similarities that keep popping up because I am nothing if not predictable), and I’ll try to note prominent features and tropes in each one with minimal spoilers. So in no particular order!

Solar Lunacy by @bamsara

Reader insert, eventual romance with the daycare clowns. The protagonist has just been hired at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex pre-Security Breach for general odd jobs that need to be done around the complex and quickly finds out how actually fucking weird their job is. They slowly meet the robots one by one and find themselves drawn to the first two they met, the daycare attendants, and the weird mystery surrounding them- in that Sun handles the daycare alone, when Moon is clearly meant to be his counterpart and partner. Why isn't Moon helping in the daycare? What happened? Why is Moon so oddly feral; why does he play with them sometimes but try to hurt them other times? Something isn't right here, and they're gonna snoop until they find out what.

Features the other robots as prominent characters very early, but remains Sun and Moon central. Features Monty as a dick. So far no mentions of Bonnie or Foxy.

Celestial Omens (That Really Like Fishsticks) by @bamsara

This one gets its own separate category because it’s not part of the same story series and is in fact a non-fnaf au.

A mermay fic! Reader insert! Sun and Moon are sirens and you live on the shore. As a child you come across two siren children who are injured, exhausted, and trapped under netting, so of course you do the humane thing and rescue them. You take them back to your house and take care of them, giving them a safe place to sleep for the night. The next day you bring them back to the ocean and send them home, expecting to never see them again and eventually believing your elders about it all being a lonely child’s imaginative game.

Ten years later you nearly get yourself killed at sea, and your silent guardians, now as grown up as you are, finally get their chance to return the kindness you showed them all those years ago.

It’s only one chapter in but them as children is criminally adorable.

Lofi Beats To Capture Children To by @dana-the-control-brain Twin Animatronics With Too Much Time On Their Hands by @twinanimatronics

Lofi Beats follows Sun and Moon from their birth likely up to (maybe even including?) the events of Security Breach, detailing how these two got to where they are in present time- the circumstances of their creation, the abusive situations they were thrown into the deep end to deal with, and how that affected their relationship with one another. To say nothing of the actual child murders. Still ongoing!

Features the other robots as important characters, but takes a bit to meet them. DJ MM is encountered first early on. Yes, he's adorable. Monty is once again a bully in this universe, so be mindful of that if you don't like that characterization for Monty.

Twins is a reader insert that takes place after Lofi Beats and the events of Security Breach. The protagonist has known Sun and Moon for three months now and has grown used to them and their antics pretty quickly. The two are more bonded to one another now than they were three months ago, but they have a long way to go with their healing process and their relationship with each other... especially when neither have fully processed what happened to them, let alone how it affected them. This is further complicated with their feelings towards the protagonist, who remains clueless about all of this until one fateful encounter with Gregory after closing one day forces all three of them to examine themselves and their relationships with each other.

Is starting to feature the other robots, but also more slowly than Solar Lunacy. I'm guessing they and Gregory will be explored later on, as this fic is still a Sun and Moon centered fic. Monty has not been encountered yet at this point in the timeline but what we've heard of him indicates he's still kind of a dick.

Romance with the daycare clowns! Also utilizes the 'Sun and Moon were locked in the daycare and left there' trope if you like that one.

This series features an extremely interesting take on their origins and initial relationship with each other that I’m kind of in love with tbh; just be sure you’re ready to watch them fight. A lot.

Copper Cogs Rusted Through by @paper-lilypie

Reader insert, future romance with the daycare clowns! The protagonist lives in an unassuming neighborhood and works two jobs to support their baby siblings. Life is full of love thanks to their family, but is also mundane and exhausting... until one day they find a ruined robot in the junkyard they work in. A break in the monotony! Being a former engineering student of course the only thing to do is rebuild the robot!

But what happens when that robot turns out to be sentient?

And traumatized.

And also not the only robot inhabiting the body.

Also the other one seems to be a bit murdery.

Whoops.

A post-fire ending where Sun and Moon did not escape the fire, and wake to find themselves being reassembled by a stranger in a strange house a year after the blaze (and maybe two years since they've had contact with people; I don't know yet if this story is going with 'Sun and Moon were abandoned in the daycare' trope). Sun is just grateful to not be dead anymore and overjoyed to be around people again, but his and Moon’s second chance at life is not going to come easily...

Don’t Spare Your Gaze by @inazumaneko

Fun fact this is the first Sun and Moon fic that I ever read!

Sun and Moon encounter and survive the fire ending, but find themselves alone in the big wide world suddenly, injured and traumatized and without a purpose anymore. Now they must figure out how to survive a world they were never meant to fit into, with limited supplies and oh yeah the virus still kicking around in Moon’s head that activates anytime he encounters a human.

Surely this will go smoothly!

(It does not, in fact, go smoothly.)

Sun and Moon’s relationship in this is honestly just absolutely precious as in ‘I squealed aloud at a few points’ precious. If you prefer watching these daycare clowns not fight, this is the fic for you.

(That’s not to say that at some point in this long fic they won’t ever fight, just that their relationship starts from a better place in this one than previous stories on this list.)

Moon also isn’t a weird gremlin in this one. But he is adorable.

This one also has an interesting take on the what the virus is and how it operates!

And finally, NOT Sun and Moon centered, but far too good to not recommend:

To Fix What's Broken of The Unconventional Series by @larxicana

Set during Security Breach, Gregory discovers that Freddy has a missing loved one and that the robots can be flushed of their murderous glitch with a good shock to their systems. Because he is the world's tiniest juggernaut, naturally he decides the only thing to do about these discoveries is to find the missing rabbit release each of the others from the faulty programming compelling them to chase him.

But what starts as a mission to repair Bonnie and collect all of the other robots turns into a much darker mystery that needs solving as it begins to become apparent that something really bad is happening here, something beyond a simple glitch in the system...

Six parts so far, with most of them being one shots but a few being proper fics (though Sum Of Their Parts is short). The latest, To Fix What's Lost, finally deals with the 'where's Foxy' question!

Monty is not a bully in this one, so rejoice if you prefer that characterization of him!

The og four are actually THE ogs, if you like that trope too!

Sun and Moon enjoyers may be disappointed that they're not central characters, but they DO have a place in the family and are starting to feature a bit more.

Gregory is the pov character and he is a riot.

EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TO THE AUTHORS FOR ALL THEIR WORK YOU PEOPLE HAVE GIVEN ME HOURS AND HOURS OF SERATONIN AND STORIES TO PICK APART FOR ANALYSIS AND THEORIES FOR FREE AND DESERVE ALL THE PRAISE

YOU ARE ALL SO CREATIVE AND TALENTED AND MAKE THE FANDOM THAT MUCH BRIGHTER FOR BEING THERE

#five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's security breach #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf sundrop #fnaf moondrop #fnaf freddy #fnaf gregory #fnaf bonnie #solar lunacy #twin animatronics with too much time on their hands #lofi beats to capture children to #fic recommendation

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 29/02/2024

my rip :)

Season 5 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume GS

Ripped by brubsby

Requested by Memmy! (Request Form)

Hey, it's February 29th, the Leap Year day! The strangest day on the calendar, I realize, ought to be celebrated with a bit of a strange rip to go along with it, and there was certainly plenty to pick from. The channel has seen its share silly rips like :D, utterly unhinged rips like Sex - Steve Harvey, and everything bizarre other kind of weirdness out there like Mr. Rental [B Side] ~ Out of Options or waterwraith pokos. Yet what surprised me about my rip :) wasn't for being the most silly, or most chaotic, or what have you - but rather, for being an utmost perfect blend of all the above kinds of rips, whilst remaining shockingly listenable.

I mean, there's something eyebrow-raising about the rip's mere existence alone. A rip from PONG? As in, one of the first video games ever made, the one from 1972, which barely even had SOUND in it, let alone music? The channel's obviously tackled a number of strange cases of games to rip before, such as the ongoing Circus trend with Five Nights at Freddy's and rips like Chex Invaders, but there really was no precedent for what to expect with this rip before clicking on it - the only prior rip of PONG was a whopping 15 seconds intentionally playing off of how little audio the game has to begin with. How could my rip :) hope to make a relevant joke out of PONG worthy of 3 minutes of runtime?

The answer, as it turns out, was to just do every single thing at once.

It starts off so innocuously too: the joke of adding rapidly repeating PONG sounds of various pitch to form a discordant melody, similar to that of CrazyBus, is a pretty funny bit in of itself! Yet before that bit has had even the slightest time to register, it's joined by Space Jam's infamous backing beat, a source that I've only covered in a good light here through actually impressive rips like Hoopache and Mother, Father, TechnoMan, yet is most well known in the community for being perhaps the most overdone and easy-to-use mashup source of them all. Before THAT has time to settle in, it's joined by yet more infamous mashup sources: The Season 5 demons themselves Yankin and Astronaut in the Ocean of Epic Rap Battles of History: Funny vs. Funnier fame, Crank Dat Super Mario, Watch Me Whip/Nae Nae - and, to note in case you're not listening to the track yourself as you're reading, NONE of these sources ever sound as if they ever go away from the mix. What in its first seconds is nothing but isolated bloops of an ancient arcade machine becomes this absolute cocophany of noise and melodies, yet through some miracle (and skill on brubsby's part) they're guided along to still form some sort of melody.

All the noise is mainly guided by the use of Gangnam Style as a surprise source amidst all the rest, whose melody builds and builds toward its own climactic beat drop Gangnam Style, upon which everything goes silent for just a moment, approximately eight sources all fading at once...before exploding back onto the scene like an unstoppable mob. Its just keeps going like this - by the end, twelve different sources are all competing for attention. Or at least it sounds that way - I genuinely have no clue if some tracks get phased out as the rip progresses, but the rip's noisiness never appears to die down until the very end of its runtime.

Its just such a fun ride until the very end - my rip :) doesn't have any sort of guiding melody to it, no joke to fulfill or prior YTPMV/Mashup/etc its paying tribute to. The rip is pretty much as deep as its title frames it as, as just brubsby fucking around and finding out what can be done with all of these Season 5-infamous sources as the year drew to a close. In that sense its a fitting encapsulation of Season 5 as a whole, doesn't it? The one year where the direction of the channel felt rather aimless, yet not necessarily in a bad way: a lack of obligation to be tied to larger theming and colossal channel events resulted in some of the most unrestrained, individually-ambitious, and fun listens in the channel's entire life. I'm not quite sure if I'd call my rip :) a "banger", but it's the kind of rip that I can't help but respect for the sheer audacity of it alone.

#todays siivagunner #season 5 #siivagunner #siiva #brubsby #ytpmv #mashup #mashups #Youtube #Bandcamp #pong #yankin #astronaut in the ocean #masked wolf #crank dat super mario #ok i genuinely dont know how to tag this one #i was gonna list all the jokes but it would be endless and confusing #you will have to share this one with the world .

[tenebraevesper]

Five Nights at Freddy's: Nothing Remains, Night 6: Instruments Of Nightmares

''Do you even have a clue? Do you even have one? All the evil things we do, surprising that don't you run, knowing you will die here, knowing there is no way out. Fate is evidently clear, seems you're just oblivious. Do you even have a clue? Do you even have one? All the evil things we do, surprising that don't you run, knowing you will die here, knowing there is no way out. Fate is evidently clear, now it's time to scream and shout.''

 – Do You Even? by ChaoticCanineCulture (Five Nights at Freddy's: Sister Location)

xXxXxXx

''Trapped within the silence inside, watching as the days go by outside. All this replacing, discarding my face in this hollow tune.''

Sam stared at Nightmare Foxy's sharp teeth, feeling both unnerved and curious as the Nightmare Animatronic gave her an empty stare. She felt a little tense, as if fearing that the animatronic would try to bite her head off, even though she knew that that wasn't possible as the Nightmare Animatronic wasn't fully repaired yet. Having Instruments Of Cyanide by DAGames ft. Caleb Hyles and Chi-Chi playing on her smartphone did help her to focus a little more on her current task, even if the lyrics weren't that encouraging.

''The fall of the Idol will tear us limb from limb, to where wandering was a sin, to where nightmares can begin.''

Nevertheless, she still felt that it fit the mood. She had removed the upper part of Nightmare Foxy's mask, exposing the endoskeleton's head, and placed it on the floor. Then, she slightly leaned the head over, finding the wires that had been worn out.

''You'll have to remove those and replace them,'' Springtrap instructed her, handing her the pliers over. ''It is safe to remove them since the animatronic isn't active. Also, keep a track of the wires which you're going to sever, so you don't accidentally cut the wrong one.''

''This life did not choose us, it chose to consume us. To ready for the day we march with dread beneath the sway!''

''Okay,'' Sam muttered, focusing on the task.

Luckily, the faulty wires weren't that difficult to remove and after having done similar procedures on Nightmare Bonnie and Nightmare Chica, she felt a little more confident in her abilities. That didn't stop the feeling of dread rushing through her body as she approached the Nightmare Animatronics again and again. Nevertheless, she couldn't deny that she had actually enjoyed herself while repairing the animatronics.

''Dark nights are upon us! Black magic slays on the chorus, for the choir's in tune with an angel, foresight of the broken chain us.''

Sure, it was tough work, and even a bit frustrating when things wouldn't go the way she wanted them to be at the beginning. For example, when she worked on Nightmare Bonnie, she had accidentally messed up the wires that connected to the animatronic's limbs. Springtrap explained to her that what she had done, that if Nightmare Bonnie were active and his programming told him to move his right arm, he would move his left leg instead. Sam felt a mix of embarrassment and irritation, but she had managed to fix her mistake.

''May her demeanor combine us, within sorrow and blindness we'll follow where the path of freedom can re-join us now.''

Then, there was Nightmare Chica, whose issue was that, even though the rust had been removed, she still couldn't move her limbs smoothly whenever Sam attempted to lift them up. There had been some worn out wires too, but the bigger issue were the bolts and nuts that secured the arms and legs. She had to remove and replace them, making sure to not screw them too loose or too tight so that the animatronic could still move. She felt quite relieved when she had finally managed to replace those. There was also the Nightmare Cupcake, which needed it's spring mechanism, which was necessary for it to open its mouth, replaced. Sam had managed to pull her fingers out of it just in time, as the springs released and it bit down.

''We bow before a fake, for goodness sake! Where's the pride when we needed it to carry away? This decay has derailed, now she walks leaving trails of the damned!''

During the whole process of repairing the animatronics, Springtrap was calmly explaining her how the animatronics exactly worked and instructed her on what to do. Even when she made mistakes, he never rose his voice and would reassure her that she could try again and that it wasn't a big deal. If anything, Sam felt that he made a quite good teacher who, while he would give her guidelines, would also let her to figure things out on her own and learn from her mistakes.

''Fall into the hands of sorrow; Drawn by the darkest bay! Walk into the pit of silence; I am the one calling your name!''

''I'm done,'' Sam said as she finally placed the mask back on Nightmare Foxy's head and sat down, taking a deep breath. She then glanced at Springtrap. ''Although, there are still two more animatronics to go.''

''If you need a pause, then take one. I mean, it's not as if we're in a hurry,'' Springtrap told her. Sam grinned mischievously.

''You still sound sarcastic,'' she told him. Springtrap just rolled his eyes, knowing that she was messing with him. Sam then stood up.

''I, in the name of violence, sentence you down to Hell. Live, or you will die, just for the sake, fetch me the tools, so I create this Instrument of Cyanide!''

''Let's continue,'' she said, suddenly getting up. ''I want to get over with this as soon as possible in order to see whether this would really work or not. Besides, you said that Nightmare Fredbear and Nightmare Freddy were in a better state than the others.''

''I did,'' Springtrap muttered, quickly picking up the toolbox and following her. Once he got to her, she was already standing next to Nightmare Fredbear.

''You know, it's kind of disturbing how his torso looks like a mouth filled with sharp teeth,'' Sam said. Springtrap felt a sting of guilt, knowing that he really took it to far when he had created the Nightmares, as he should've done something else to ensure Sammy's safety. He still hadn't figured out what to do with them either.

This wasn't what I wanted…

''Dark nights have devoured us! I walk this river of conscience, for a time where we come to escape here, this lens has an open vengeance.''

''Anyways, you said that there were some parts that needed to be replaced, right?'' Sam suddenly asked, snapping Springtrap out of his thoughts.

''Yeah,'' he muttered, nodding. ''The damaged parts are on the back, just below the head.'' He helped her to turn Nightmare Fredbear over in order to remove the suit so Sam would have an easier access to the endoskeleton. ''These wires need to be replaced.''

''I've laid in here for the longest time, the deadliest choir chimes for my awakening, this reckoning will see the light tonight.''

He curiously observed Sam as she reconnected the wires after he had shown her the ones that were the issue. It was still surprising him that she was so eager to learn how to repair the Nightmare Animatronics, but he didn't question her about it anymore. There was no way he could argue with her about this, unless he wanted to hear another lecture from her.

''Say, Will, these are the only Nightmare Animatronics you had made?'' Sam asked, noticing Springtrap's puzzled expression. ''I mean, you haven't made a black variant of Fredbear, right?''

''We bow before a fake, for goodness sake! Where's the pride when we needed it to carry away? This decay has derailed, now she walks leaving trails of the damned!''

''No, it's just these five,'' Springtrap replied. ''Are you asking me that because you saw a lower number of animatronics here in comparison to the videogame you had shown me?''

''Yeah, more or less,'' Sam admitted, putting the new wire into the endoskeleton. ''Anyways, we're almost done. Only Nightmare Freddy is left.''

Springtrap helped her with putting Nightmare Fredbear back the way they had found him, noting the cold glare Nightmare Fredbear was giving them. He felt somewhat unsettled, knowing that it was only worse for Sammy.

Had I been a better father to him, this all could've been prevented from happening.

''Fall into the hands of sorrow; Drawn by the darkest bay! Walk into the pit of silence; I am the one calling your name!''

He followed Sam as she walked over to Nightmare Freddy, with the three Freddles lying on the floor. She crouched next to him, glancing briefly at Springtrap with a questioning look, seemingly having forgotten what was needed to be done with the animatronic. Springtrap merely took out a battery-like device out of the toolbox and gave it to her.

''Okay, now you need to insert the power module correctly,'' Springtrap told Sam as she fumbled with the battery.

''I, in the name of violence, sentence you down to Hell. Live, or you will die, just for the sake, fetch me the tools, so I create this Instrument of Cyanide!''

Taking a sharp breath, she reached between the torn fur into Nightmare Freddy's chest, trying to place the battery inside the endoskeleton. Once she had managed to insert it into the endoskeleton, she quickly pulled her arm out of Nightmare Freddy's chest, as if fearing that he might bite her. However, the Nightmare Animatronic didn't move at all.

''You know, you still need to activate him,'' Springtrap added.

''Yeah, yeah, I know,'' Sam replied, glancing back at Springtrap, who gave her an understanding look. ''This was the last one, though. It's time to see whether they'll be roaming again.''

''It is time for you to leave, or so it may seem; Empower, desire to reignite the flames!''

Springtrap tilted his head as he noticed that Sam wasn't really doing anything, but just staring at the Nightmare Animatronic with an unnerved look on her expression.

''Sam?'' he asked, with Sam glancing at him. ''You know, you could still step away from this.''

''I know, it's just, I'm not sure what would happen afterwards,'' Sam replied. ''I'm feeling a bit nervous, to be honest.''

''That's understandable,'' Springtrap said. ''If you-''

''For there's one more thing you have of mind, the core to my strings; Empower, desire to reignite the flames!''

Before he could even finish the sentence, Sam had leaned over, with a look of determination on her expression, reaching for the switch and activating the Nightmare Animatronic. Springtrap just sighed after he saw her do this.

I should've expected this to happen. Why am I even bothering to ask her anything?

''So as you ascend to the heavens now, I'll drag you back down to Hell, listen to me!; Empower desire to reignite the flames!''

The two stepped back, observing as Nightmare Freddy's eyes lit up. Then, the animatronic had slowly stood up, his eyes glowing yellow. He then stared at Sam, who felt her heart racing and her hands shaking. It was one thing to repair the animatronic while he was deactivated, but confronting him while he was active was a completely different experience. Even though Sam wasn't exactly scared of the Nightmare Animatronic, she still felt quite intimidated by him.

''Can't you see your friend is now mine, all mine!''

She did notice that Nightmare Freddy didn't look as if he was going to harm her, though. Instead, he gave her a curious look, as if analysing her, with Sam realizing that the last person this animatronic had seen was probably Sammy Afton, so he may have been somewhat confused about the situation, as now a stranger stood before him.

''I've waited here for the longest time, and when the ashes spread apart, it is then I'll take out his heart.''

''She is not your target,'' Springtrap said in a calm tone, drawing Nightmare Freddy's attention. The Nightmare Animatronic seemed to be just as puzzled when seeing Springtrap, with the latter wondering whether the audio and visual recognition system had still worked. The way he had built them, they would be able to recognize him either by his face or voice, but he was an animatronic now and his voice was slightly deeper and raspy, so he wasn't sure whether it would still work this way.

Nightmare Freddy observed him for a moment, then stepped back, nodding. Springtrap felt relieved, realizing that the animatronic did recognize him. If anything, now he knew that the Nightmare Animatronics were fully functional and that they would be following his command.

''Fall into the hands of sorrow; Drawn by the darkest bay! Walk into the pit of silence; I am the one calling your name!''

Then, as Nightmare Freddy continued to give him a confused look, he realized that he still had no idea what to do with the Nightmare Animatronics. There was really no use for them, but he didn't want to leave them to just rot here. They were the remains of the past, with no purpose, but he figured that he could give them a chance to do something.

''As for now, you're free to roam through this location,'' Springtrap told the animatronic, whose eyes briefly flickered as he glanced at Sam. ''Concerning her, she was the one who had patched you up. Her name is Samantha Blackburn and you will make sure that nothing happens to her, understood?''

''Understood.''

''I, in the name of violence, sentence you down to Hell. Live, or you will die, just for the sake, fetch me the tools, so I create this Instrument of Cyanide!''

Nightmare Freddy's voice was deep and raspy, even though his voicebox was clean. Springtrap wasn't surprised about it though, as he had made the Nightmare Animatronics' voices deeper on purpose to increase the scare factor.

He and Sam then observed Nightmare Freddy as he left the hallway, with Sam looking rather stunned. Even though she was aware about what might happen if she activated Nightmare Freddy, she still felt surprised, especially after seeing his reaction and response.

''It is time for you to leave, or so it may seem. Dark nights are upon us, black magic slays on the chorus. Drag you back down to Hell, listen to me! I've waited here for the longest time! Your friend is now mine, all mine!''

''This is crazy,'' she muttered.

''You know, you should be proud of yourself for being able to repair them,'' Springtrap told her. ''Besides, as nightmarish as they are, there is something satisfying about seeing your creation, the one you had been working hours upon hours, come to life.''

''I have to agree with that,'' Sam said, nodding. She then glanced at Springtrap with a mischievous grin on her expression. ''Let's activate the others. I want to see their reactions as well.'' Her expression changed to a confused one when she noticed the thoughtful look Springtrap gave her. ''Is something wrong?''

''No,'' Springtrap replied in a quiet tone, his eyes glowing in a soft purple. ''I'm just glad about seeing you like this, being so happy. I have also noticed that you have grown quite confident during the past days.''

''Did I?'' Sam looked confused. ''I mean, I am fine with dealing with the animatronics at Freddy's, but if I were to confront my bullies, I doubt that I'd manage to talk to them without breaking into tears at some point.''

''Dark nights are upon us!''

She lowered her head, only to look up when she felt hands on her shoulders, noticing Springtrap giving her an odd look.

''Sam, you are aware that you had confronted a bunch of deadly animatronics, a spirit, a dangerous murderer and Connor over the past weeks, yet you still feel intimidated by your bullies?'' he told her.

''Yeah,'' Sam replied. ''The issue here, Will, is that neither you nor Connor, or even the animatronics, have caused me any kind of traumatic experience. While what happened at the Machinations Factory did freak me out, it didn't scar me for life, and besides, I had already known that Connor was a person that couldn't be trusted. Not to mention, while you did present yourself as a dangerous murderer, you were constantly supporting, encouraging and caring about me. I certainly didn't have the same experience when I dealt with my former friends, who had been trying to use me for their own benefit and act as if I was disposable.''

''I see,'' Springtrap said, remembering that phone call he had overheard when Sam's bullies had called her. He had managed to scare them into leaving her alone and so far, they hadn't called back. ''Rest assured, you certainly aren't disposable. You're a wonderful person in your own right and those who are too blind to see how amazing you are probably treat other people like they're beneath them, even their own so-called ''friends''. You certainly don't need such toxic people in your life.''

''Thanks,'' Sam replied, with Springtrap being glad to see her smiling again. She then gave him a determined look. ''You know what, I will stand up to them and show them that they cannot bully me anymore.''

''You can do that, or you could just live your life the best way you can. Trust me, nothing will anger them more than finding out that their victim isn't as miserable as they hoped you to be,'' Springtrap told her.

''I will,'' Sam replied. ''Also, there's one more thing…''

''What is it?'' Springtrap gave her a curious look.

''I know that you are worried about me, but you don't have to constantly ask me whether I'm fine or not when it comes to dealing with the animatronics,'' Sam explained. ''Besides, we both had promised to each other to be honest about our feelings and I assure you, I will tell you when I'm upset about something.''

''I know that, but are you completely sure you'll be fine?'' Springtrap asked, his eyes gleaming.

''Of course I will-'' Sam cut herself off, glaring at the animatronic, who feigned an innocent look. ''You won't stop with that, am I right?''

''I have no idea what you're talking about,'' Springtrap replied, his eyes now glowing as a msichievous look appeared on his expression. Sam suddenly hugged him, burying her head into his chest.

''Don't ever change, okay?'' she told him.

Springtrap just caressed her hair, a feeling of warmth spreading through his chest. He knew that nothing he had previously achieved could compare to making the person he cared about happy.

xXx

''Do you have any idea what to do with them?'' Sam had asked Springtrap, after having checked her smartphone for the time and placing it back into her pocket. It was late in the afternoon, with the two having spent most of the day working on the animatronics and seeing whether any improvements were necessary. Currently, they were sitting on the stage at the Funtime Auditorium, with the Nightmare Animatronics, as well as Plushtrap, patrolling through the entire location.

''To be honest, I still don't know,'' Springtrap replied. ''I mean, I could leave them here to keep an eye on this place, but I guess I should figure out whether more could be done.''

''You'll figure something out eventually,'' Sam told him. ''If anything, I did learn a lot today from you.''

''I'm glad to hear that,'' Springtrap told her. ''At least I've managed to get something done right.''

''Actually, you had managed to get several things done right, but you still get harassed for that,'' Sam pointed out.

''I'm not sure whether I should take that as a compliment,'' Springtrap said in a deadpan tone, with Sam shrugging. He then glanced at where he had seen the shadow of a person, but there was no one there. He felt a pit in his stomach.

''Will?'' Springtrap turned his head to Sam, who gave him a sympathetic look. While he hadn't really told her anything, she seemed to have already figured out what was bothering him. Not only that, but she was also aware of who exactly wanted to confront him. Sometimes, it was a bit scary to see just how well she knew him. Nevertheless, it also made it easier to talk to her about the issue that was bothering him.

''You know, I wish I could say that I feel fine, but I don't,'' he told her.

''It's because of them, right?'' Sam said, tilting her head.

''Honestly, I never thought that they would want to confront me, despite what was said and done,'' Springtrap told her. ''I mean, no one should come back, as that story is over.''

''Well, Henry and that kid decided to return,'' Sam pointed out. ''They may also have their own reasons for their return.''

''I can only imagine what those reasons would be,'' Springtrap said, sighing and lowering his head. ''Sometimes, I wish that I could change the past, do things in a different manner. But, that's impossible.''

''Maybe, but it's never too late to confront the past,'' Sam told him.

''I know,'' Springtrap said. ''Still, this doesn't make me less anxious about the actual confrontation. I mean, you think about all those things that you want to say, but when the moment arrives, you completely lose yourself.''

''I do agree with that,'' Sam said. ''Nevertheless, you will have to eventually deal with this issue.''

''True,'' Springtrap sighed, still feeling that pit in his stomach. It's never too late to confront your past… But, how am I even supposed to explain myself, especially after what I had done to them?

xXx

It was late at night, with seemingly no one being outside. However, four figures were slowly walking through the empty streets. One of them, Drawkill Bonnie stopped in front of a shop, tilting his head as he saw his reflection. His eyes glowed as he observed his reflection, with him then fixing up the tattered red bowtie around his neck, looking rather satisfied.

His expression then changed to a look of surprise as he saw another pair of glowing eyes behind him. He then turned around, only to see Drawkill Chica glaring at him, her arms crossed. He sheepishly stepped away from the window and continued walking, with Drawkill Chica shaking her head as she followed him.

They all had a task that they needed to fulfill and there was no reason for them to slack off. Any command Connor gave them, they had to obey, as he was their creator and since he had created them, he could destroy them. Even though there was little reason to assume something like that, they were still aware of the conditions of their existence.

They had to find the whereabouts of Springtrap and Samantha, but they had no idea where they should begin to search. The most they knew was that they, unless they had moved, were in Hurricane, but it was still a lot to cover. Not to mention, they'd be moving at night so they wouldn't be seen by anyone. Currently, they couldn't afford having their existence revealed to the public.

As they walked through the streets, looking around for any witnesses, they would occasionally stay at a dark alley whenever they noticed a car passing by. They had figured that they needed a more efficient way to move around. They knew that they could easily split up to cover more ground, but they were still unfamiliar with this place and except for some routes that have been placed into their programming, they still had to learn how to navigate through Hurricane properly.

There was a place rather close to them that Connor told them to keep an eye on, as Samantha and Springtrap might be there. That building was Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, which had just opened the day before. Considering how it was after hours, the location was closed and locked, but they still hoped that they might find someone there.

However, as they had managed to find and approach the building, they noticed a disappointing lack of activity. There wasn't anyone outside and all the lights were off. Drawkill Freddy even went to the front door to open it, but it was, as expected, locked. He looked towards the alley, with Drawkill Chica emerging from it, shaking her head. The back entrance was also locked.

Drawkill Freddy then noticed Drawkill Foxy rising his sickle and approaching the front entrance, only to step in front of the fox animatronic, glaring at him. Drawkill Foxy's eyes flared up, but he retreated, looking rather disappointed. The message was clear – they couldn't draw attention to themselves and breaking in would certainly raise an alarm.

Still annoyed about being unable to break something, Drawkill Foxy trailed behind the other three Drawkills, holding the sickle that replaced his right hand with his left hand, his fingers trailing across the edge of the blade. He wanted to use his newfound freedom to do something interesting rather than just search for someone. It wasn't even the kind of Hide and Seek game he had preferred, but more of a boring investigation.

The four hid in a dark alley, waiting for another few cars to pass by, before continuing with their search for that elusive girl and the animatronic that caused them so much trouble. Once they had found the two, they would be free to do whatever they wanted.

As they walked into another street, Drawkill Freddy, who had been leading the group, suddenly stopped, his right arm outstretched. The rest of the animatronics gave him a confused look, with him pointing across the street at a man. Considering the way he had been walking, he seemed to be drunk, probably walking home from a party or from a bar. Even though he was drunk and probably wouldn't remember an encounter with a bunch of animatronics, Drawkill Freddy still didn't want to take any risks.

Drawkill Foxy, on the other hand, rose his sickle with an eager look on his expression, and stepped forward. He stopped when he saw the look on Drawkill Freddy's expression. The bear animatronic looked beyond pissed off and certainly not happy about Drawkill Foxy's antics. Drawkill Foxy's ears lowered and he glanced at Drawkill Chica and Drawkill Bonnie, both who seemed to share Drawkill Freddy's opinion, albeit Drawkill Bonnie looked rather amused about the situation.

After a while, they had managed to reach another location they knew the route to – Ricky's Wonder Shack. It was the establishment Connor had previously worked at before his untimely death. However, that didn't mean that he still didn't have any access to it. As a matter of fact, there was another way to enter the place, but the Drawkills currently couldn't go inside. Nevertheless, they were also told to keep an eye on this place, as it had been quite important to Connor.

''Krach- Krach-''

The four Drawkills felt tense, turning towards where they heard someone groaning. They had noticed a figure walking around, but despite its humanoid appearance, it didn't look like a human.

''Connor… Where's Connor?''

As they got closer to the figure, they had recognized it as Raven, a decomissioned animatronic that was supposed to belong to the group of animatronics that was Ricky and The Misfits, only to end up becoming a scrapped character after an accident that involved the death of Connor's former friend, Bran Crawford, whose soul supposedly haunted the animatronic. However, it seemed that the soul had abandoned its new body quite a while ago.

''Connor… Where-''

Suddenly, Raven let out a screech when Drawkill Foxy hit him with his sickle and knocked him on the ground. The raven animatronic trashed around, only to get grabbed by Drawkill Bonnie and Drawkill Freddy, who dragged him into an empty alley. Drawkill Freddy then pinned the screeching animatronic against the wall, his eyes flaring up.

''Shut up!'' he growled.

Raven suddenly stopped trashing, giving Drawkill Freddy a stunned look. It seemed as if he had realized what was going on and that he couldn't win this fight.

''Don't we still have a score to settle?'' Drawkill Chica said, tilting her head as she stared at Raven. She could still remember how he had suddenly attacked her and Drawkill Bonnie, causing both of them to lose the girl they were supposed to watch over. Raven kept silent.

''Are you afraid?'' Drawkill Bonnie asked him, with Raven glaring at him. ''You should be.''

''He wanted to see Connor? Why don't we bring him along?'' Drawkill Foxy turned to Drawkill Freddy, who seemed to be considering Drawkill Foxy's suggestion.

''The problem is, he's not the one whom we were supposed to be searching for,'' Drawkill Freddy replied.

''Where is Connor?'' Raven asked, his voice steady. ''You know where that coward is hiding.''

''That coward might find some use for you,'' Drawkill Freddy replied in a mocking tone.

''He won't,'' Raven replied. ''I'm going to kill him for what he had done.''

The Drawkills suddenly laughed, with Raven feeling chills crawling through his endoskeleton. He was aware that they knew something he didn't know.

''I wish you good luck with that,'' Drawkill Foxy told him, grinning like a maniac.

''Maybe we could have some fun with him,'' Drawkill Chica suggested, with Raven glaring at her.

Drawkill Freddy kept quiet as he stared at Raven, tilting his head slightly. He then let go of Raven's suit, with the latter staring at him in surprise.

''We could do that,'' Drawkill Freddy said. ''Or, we could try out something else. Besides, there is no need for hostility now, right?''

''What do you want?'' Raven asked.

''Do you remember that girl and the bunny animatronic that had accompanied her? We are searching for her,'' Drawkill Freddy told him, with Raven looking concerned.

''No,'' he said. Drawkill Freddy frowned.

''Is he denying that he remembers them or is he refusing our offer?'' Drawkill Bonnie asked.

''I think it's both, mate,'' Drawkill Foxy told him in a deadpan tone. Drawkill Freddy snorted as he leaned over, placing his hand right next to Raven's head. Raven noticed a strange red and orange glow coming from the holes in Drawkill Freddy's arm.

''Don't worry, we may have a solution for this issue,'' Drawkill Freddy said.

Links:

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#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story (Masterlist)

#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story #Five Nights at Freddy's: Nothing Remains #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #william afton #springtrap #nightmare animatronics #nightmare freddy #nightmare bonnie #nightmare chica #nightmare foxy #nightmare fredbear #plushtrap #drawkill animatronics #drawkill freddy #drawkill bonnie #drawkill chica #drawkill foxy #raven #fnaf 4 #five nights at freddy's 4

[luminitewrites]

In a Different Light: Scene Two

Back with part two of the Sleuth Jesters!actor AU! AO3 link is above, but the entire chapter will also be included below, as usual. And of course, many thanks to @naffeclipse for these characters who have lived rent free in my head for months now hehe <3

Hope you all enjoy! It's time for those other kisses.

Rating: T Word Count: ~23,300 Content Warnings: Very mildly suggestive content Summary: The animatronic sighs heavily.

“Yes, I know I should have gone with the handcuffs instead. But why else am I supposed to wear suspenders if not to seductively slide them off for you one at a time?”

As he says this, he reaches up and hooks a finger underneath one of the straps. His air is nothing short of coy, like an idea has just taken shape in his devious mind, and he slowly eases the fabric across his shoulder, flirting with slipping it over the edge. A curled metal digit suggestively rubs the suspender. It would probably have a much greater effect on you if his little show wasn’t currently being backed by cheery elevator music, and that alone has your lips spasmodically twitching.

Sun gives the impression of waggling his brows, rife with an emotion you refuse to label.

“Are you seduced yet?” he croons.

~~~

The city streets on New Year’s Eve paint a scene of winter white awash in the pale yellow shine from stores and lampposts. Strings of warm lights keep the sidewalks appearing deceptively cozy, but you know that just beyond the cold glass of the car window is an even brutally colder world. The temperature at last dipped to the single digits today, and with the sun having just disappeared below the horizon, casting the sky in a dark blue and gray mix, everything will freeze over tonight.

Craning your neck so that you can see the sky better, you know that the heavy darkness that greets you from above holds layers of clouds thick with snow. The forecast you caught a glimpse of on the TV before Moon had ushered you out of your home stated that the snowfall accumulation was anticipated to reach an extra five inches.

Probable reason to stay indoors. That hasn’t stopped your work party from staying on schedule at some ritzy, swanky hotel the city is known for, and nothing short of a disaster will impede the event. The show must go on, or so the producer had said. Attendance isn’t mandatory, as today is a company-observed holiday, but it is heavily encouraged since the one previously planned earlier had to be postponed to tonight. Maybe you’re the fool for going to this one, but you’ve actually been really looking forward to it. It’s a chance to celebrate with everyone all the hard work they’ve put into each scene. When the final episode of your team’s triumphant efforts airs, another party will be due, but this one feels extra special despite filming not being done yet. You’re welcoming in the new year together, and after all the time you’ve spent getting to know your coworkers, not going to the party held tonight would feel like you’re missing out immensely. You need this reprieve just as much as everyone else does. 

And… well. The present company attending the party certainly factors into your desire to go. One-third of your favorite attendees sits next to you now, and you pull away from the window of the car to peer at Moon instead.

The beloved hat from his detective costume remains firm on his head—the sole piece he seems to have grown a deep attachment to. It suits him well and almost makes you feel like you’re still in the middle of a shoot, acting out a scene with Detective Moon in his patrol car as you scour the city together.

His gloved hands rest on the wheel, and his eyes remain fixated on the road ahead. A very good thing, given his typical driving habits and the fact that you’re sure he knows most of the city police by name now. Not by choice either. That’s exactly why you didn’t relay to Sun or Eclipse how you were getting to the party until you’d fastened your seatbelt. For one, when Moon had offered to come pick you up and escort you to the hotel, how could you have possibly said no to that? It sure beats paying for an expensive lift to the event. For another, the texts you’ve since received are nothing short of concerned. After the string of praying emojis Sun had posted in the group chat, you’d decided to just put away your phone for the time being.

You’ll be fine. Moon hasn’t hit any obstacles yet, literal or figurative, though that was a bit of a close brush with a tree he had on that last turn.

As he often does, he senses your eyes on him without needing to check. 

“I can feel your stare digging into my faceplate. What is it?” His voice starts out in that soft grumble you’ve come to adore, but then his low pitch lifts to a little more lilting—a tease. “See something you like, maybe?”

The instinctive response that wants to clamber out of your throat is quickly choked down. Even though he’s the one who’s mentioned it, you suspect he has no idea. You’ve long since soared past “liking” him. That conversation you had with Eclipse weeks ago has not left your thoughts since. Every day at work, every night in bed, you’ve thought about what he’d said. What he’d done. You now know that the attraction you feel for the others is not just in your head. That part is indisputable. Having a relationship with Sun, Moon, and Eclipse is appealing to you in no small amount. You just needed the time to realize that on your own and make sure that this attraction wasn’t only a passing fancy.

Judging by how every single one of your waking thoughts has been centered on them for countless hours, you’re pretty sure you have your answer.

In a rare burst of what’s either bravery or stupidity, you decide to throw caution to wind. Your fingers wiggle as they sneak over Moon’s arm that’s closest to you and then dip around his wrist. There is a flash of red as he briefly glances away from the snowy roads, but he has to snap his attention back to the traffic around him. A car honks not too far away.

Honey couldn’t be sweeter than the smile that curls up your face. 

Buoyantly, like you haven’t spent hours agonizing over how to approach your feelings for him, you say in a singsong, airy tone, “I might.”

Moon chuffs. His dry amusement at your antics never fails in elevating your mood, though you couldn’t be happier as it is. You squeeze his wrist playfully, and his hand clenches around the steering wheel. Only a matter of time now.

The swish of the windshield wipers fills the quiet, broken only by the clicking of the turning signal as Moon takes a harrowing left. You’re honestly surprised he remembered to signal at all. His fingers drum atop the wheel while his processor tries to determine if this is a game worth playing. He knows as well as you just how risky diverting any of his fleeting attention from driving is, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t against having a fun time.

Your fingers skirt along the edge of his glove, cheekily dipping in just an inch, and Moon shakes his head.

“You’re betting your life, piccolina.”

You wrinkle your nose at the pet name.

“I’m not that small.”

Moon, contrary to his trepidation, lifts the hand you’ve been toying with off of the steering wheel just to give you a so-so gesture. You snatch the opportunity to claim your prize, but you get the impression that Moon purposely lets you take his hand. His glove creaks as leather intertwines with your own fingers, lacing together and squeezing.

You beam proudly at your catch, and Moon rubs his thumb across your knuckles. He thankfully doesn’t look away from the streets, so you take full advantage of smiling at him and enjoying the moment with your friend. Moon’s presence always embodies a sort of calm that lulls you. He’s someone you can sit with in quiet and not worry about filling the space with words. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up from snoozing on his shoulder. Whenever that happens, you always apologize profusely, but for some reason, it just keeps repeating itself, and Moon thoroughly basks in it—both in getting you to relax that much and also being able to razz you relentlessly about it when you wake up.

You suppose it’s a small price to pay.

“Comfortable?” your companion’s voicebox thrums.

Yes. Very much so. Incredibly so, in fact. But you can’t say that because you don’t want to drop the teasing nature that Moon evokes. The kindness in the simple question wraps around you like a warm hug.

“I suppose,” you trail off with a shrug, and though Moon isn’t even peeking at you, he can certainly see the movement in his peripheral.

He flicks the signal again when he reaches his next turn. You don’t have the heart to tell him he’s signaling in the wrong direction though because at least he remembered to do it, and that’s what counts. As he slowly twists the wheel with only one hand, you hold your breath and hope some of the praying emojis Sun spammed in the group chat have a good effect. The tires skid a little in the slush of the road, but Moon miraculously doesn’t lose control, and he navigates onto the next street without further incident.

You breathe again.

“You suppose?” Moon drawls now that he’s not intensely focused on not crashing into a pedestrian or oncoming traffic. Or not as focused, you should say. 

“Mhm.” You tap your free hand on your thigh and assess the current arrangement that begs to be malleable and crafted to your liking. An idea begins to form.

You glance at the time on the dash. The party started a half-hour ago, which means you and Moon are already late. It’s fifty-fifty on who’s to blame for that one, so you don’t really feel too bad. What’s a few more minutes? Granted, his brothers will probably begin a search party if you don’t show up soon, but you’ll take that gamble.

“So I was thinking,” you cautiously open with, and the words roll across your tongue as you draw them out.

Moon groans.

With a dour metaphorical tongue, he drones, “Here we go.”

He’s already clued in on what you’re doing, and you have to bite your own tongue to stop the laugh that wants to come out when he tightens his grip on your hand. Depending on his mood and how charitable he’s feeling, the lunar animatronic can be swayed by your charm into going along with some scheme or another as long as it’s legal. Often, he’s one-half of the voices of reason in keeping you in line while another brother backs him up (the third being more easily swayed by your wily ways, and you’re not going to name names, but it’s Sun). However, Moon is overlooking one important fact: He’s currently alone with you. You don’t need much more than that.

The seconds drag on as Moon waits for you to lay out your clearly devilish scheme befitting only the worst of criminals. When it becomes apparent that you won’t, he gives another synthetic groan that is entirely disproportionate to the situation at hand, and at the next red light, he comes to a full stop only a little past the white line. Then, he turns to you.

“What is it you want?” he gruffly demands, like you’re about to ask him to commit petty crimes with you again.

Honestly. You’d only asked him that once, and that was just because you’d wanted to see if the vigilante style would suit you in this life too. Moon had acted like you’d offered to start a mob instead, the very opposite of what you were going for, and you think that maybe playing detective has gotten a little too into his head because he’d threatened to turn you over to the cops he apparently knows so well if he caught you doing anything nefarious.

Maybe you should have approached Sun first about that. He seems more like the type to let you do some shady Robin Hood-esque business while covering for you. 

But a little vigilantism isn’t on your plate tonight. Instead, you flutter your eyelashes at Moon, teeth peeking past your lips as you lose the fight in controlling your smile.

“I’d like a coffee please.”

A few more seconds of silence. His eyes don’t leave you for any of it, but you can practically see the mathematical formulas floating past him as he tries to parse for anything illegal in your request.

Slowly, like he’s defusing a bomb, he says, “I’m sure they’ll have that at the party.”

To that, you then amend, “Yes, but I’d like a specialty coffee.”

“…And this coffee would be special how?”

“Because you’ll stop at that really good café a few blocks from the hotel to get it for me?”

It comes out as a question, but your hopefulness is tinged well throughout. You’d clasp your hands in front of your chest if you weren’t already holding his. 

Moon is sometimes difficult to get a read on, and even with no distractions around you, you can’t quite discern if he’s on your side this time. He searches your face like he’s studying some ancient script, committing lines to memory. His thumb still hasn’t stopped the soothing paths it follows across your hand.

Two quick presses to a car horn from behind jolt you and Moon. He resumes driving again, focusing back on the snowy road, and you reluctantly accept that you won’t get your way this time. That’s okay. Disappointing, but you can’t win them all. You’ll finagle things into your favor next—

“Tell me where to go,” comes the defeated exhale from your beloved companion.

You resist the wild urge to cheer and instead gleefully direct him to your new destination. It doesn’t take long to find it at all since the shop is directly along your current route. Incredibly, it’s still open even this evening—just what you were hoping for. Since the storm has begun to worsen, few people are out and about, which means rare street parking is open. Moon pulls into a space that is just a little ahead of the café, and you give his parallel parking the compliment that is due. 

He’s actually really far from the curb in a way that would have not flown if he were taking his driver’s test, but there’s enough room for other cars to squeeze past his if need be. So you’re still proud of him. He gives you a sort of suspicious, sideways frown, but you can tell from the bashful hunch of his shoulders that he’s preening at the attention nonetheless.

Whoever approved his driver’s license is either an angel or an advocate for causing trouble.

You offer to go into the café alone, but he quickly shuts that down and tells you to give him your drink order instead. You reluctantly do, and as you’re rummaging in your coat pocket to give him money for the drink, he’s already out the door and telling you to stay put. The door then slams shut, and Moon hurries through whirling snow to the well-lit doors of the café.

Slumping in your heated seat with an exasperated sigh, you watch him with fondness budding in your chest. He left the car running so you wouldn’t be left in the cold—just another gesture that makes you feel odd inside. Like you’re restless and full of energy that you don’t know what to do with. You’re overflowing with affection for someone you hadn’t known until just months ago, and now, you consider him to be one of your best friends.

For some reason, your head is spinning with emotion.

In the cozy interior of the car, you watch through the snowflakes dotting the passenger window as Moon’s dark silhouette flutters about in the store. The edge of his thick overcoat sweeps around the back of his knees, and the hat he stole from set casts most of his head in shadow. You don’t think he ever intends to part with it. Maybe you should take a page from his book and nab some spare ribbon and bells when all is said and done. The character you play isn’t you, but you can’t help the connection you’ve developed with the vigilante over time. Parting from the show without taking a memento seems wrong. After all, it’s this role that led you to meeting some truly amazing people.

Moon wraps up with the order in little to no time and hustles back to the car as fast as his spindly legs will carry him. The winter wind whooshes inside the car when he opens the door and scurries inside. Just as quickly, the door shuts behind him, and he whistles from the cold shock.

“Might become a block of ice if it gets any chillier out there,” he hisses in a fizzle of static. “I can feel the snow getting in my joints.”

“Don’t worry, mon clair de lune,” you reassure, cranking up the heat to full blast for him. “I’ll be sure to warm you up before you become an icicle.”

“Believe that is my job,” Moon drawls, and he passes you a deliciously smelling to-go cup. “Here.”

He presses the hot cup of coffee into your waiting hands, and you greedily latch onto it while wholeheartedly extending your gratitude.

The aromatic sweetness hits your nostrils fully as you take a deep breath. Pure delight runs through your blood, and you hastily take a very long drag from the wonderful drink, swishing the steaming liquid around on your tongue before swallowing.

“Oh, I could kiss you right now,” you whisper into the lid of your coffee.

Thoroughly savoring the taste of your next sip, your eyelids flutter closed as the heat penetrates that frosty layer that had been persistently clinging fast. This is exactly what you needed. After another deep breath to relish in the richness, you glimpse over to find Moon’s pleased optics on you, soft and as warm as your drink. His smile is small, like he isn’t aware of it. But it changes before you can get a good look, and a familiar slyness overtakes all else.

“What’s stopping you?” he brazenly needles. He’s just playing around again, a harmless prod, but his innocuous question makes you pause like a deer in headlights.

Your hands are warmed by your to-go cup, the wind is whipping at a brisk pace outside the car, and your heart is abruptly thump, thump, thumping away in your chest at a breakneck speed that rivals the December gust.

Such a small, simple, harmless question makes something apparent to you then. There’s no one here but you and him, nothing else to demand your attention. Nothing to hold you back or make you doubt yourself or put you on the spot. It’s just you and the sweet lunar animatronic you hold very dear to your heart.

In this brief ounce of privacy between you and him, you feel a touch braver than usual.

“You know…” your voice mumbles, more to yourself than him, “I can’t really think of anything that is.”

The kiss—correction: two kisses—from Eclipse a few short weeks ago flashes in your mind. He hasn’t pushed once since giving you time to think about it, about how you feel about him. His brothers. A relationship with all three. You’ve been given time to consider fostering that with each of them if your heart yearns for your friends as much as you now know they yearn for you. It hadn’t quite clicked before the reveal that they wanted you. Since Eclipse’s confession, it’s never felt more real, and the way each of them act around you should have clued you in much sooner.

At least you know better now. There’s no writing off the lingering looks or touches or the words that sometimes carry a heavy tint to them. No, they all have meaning finally, and it’s felt like agony forcing yourself to slow down and think things through in the events leading up tonight.

The only one who’s pumping the breaks is you. Nothing is keeping you from just… letting go. No one is here to be a voice of reason as Moon sits beside you, closer than he’s been in weeks. Eclipse said he’d let his brothers speak for themselves about their feelings, but they’ve seemed to avoid the topic out of courtesy to you. No doubt their big brother told them about the moment he’d shared with you in that small alcove under a snowy night, much like tonight. Ball’s in your court now, and you have the chance to play.

You know what your heart wants. You’re sure of it.

So it’s a natural, easy choice for you to give in to the temptation whispering in your ear to stop resisting and just close the distance.

Moon doesn’t move an inch as you lower your drink in one hand and near, the only indication of him realizing what’s coming shown in the widening of his eyes.

With a small sweep of your fingers, you tip back your detective’s hat, hesitating only a moment to wait for any signs of discomfort from either you or him. Finding none but only the giddy anticipation coiling in your stomach and the inviting, subtle lean Moon makes in your direction, you slowly lid your gaze shut, tune out the pounding in your ears, and brush your lips against the cold metal of his cheek.

They demurely curl upward at the crackling gasp he emits. The sound has you wanting to stay, wanting to hear it again. You settle for trailing a ghost of another kiss just along that delicate swirl of metal. Before he can have a chance to react beyond that and before you can start second-guessing your actions, you pull away. Your heart won’t stop racing. It feels like your body is hardly contained to your seat at all and that you’ll glide away if you breathe too hard.

Moon’s dark pupils are blown incredibly large and round. His reaction is exactly what you were hoping for, and a small burst of pride wells behind your sternum. You did that. You made him react that way. You.

It’s a small tick in your confidence category, but even greater is the joy that grows wings and takes flight with you on its back. Moon gapes at you like you’re from the stars above, and you’ve never seen him stare at you like that before, but it’s already strengthening the heat in your cheeks. 

You give him a moment to process and then delicately clear your throat.

“Shall we get going?” you ask your silent companion in an attempt to play coy. Internally, you’re a fumbling mess of a human who’s running around in circles like a dog chasing its tail. The coffee cup trembles in your hand.

Even with your little prodding, he doesn’t seem to quite come out of whatever spell you’ve accidentally tossed him under. Well. Not entirely on accident. You very much kissed him on purpose.

Moon releases a thin hiss of air, like his cooling components are working overtime. He blinks once. Twice.

“What was that for?” he finally utters with tangible awe, but it’s little more than a breath. His voice could melt you into a puddle right in your seat.

You think back to what Eclipse said to you that night at the start of the month. A helpless shrug lifts your shoulders.

“Oh, you know. Just felt like getting a head start on the new year’s tradition.” Then, to make sure he’s on the same page as you, you add, “I take it Eclipse told you what happened a few weeks ago. About… testing the waters.”

Instead of scoffing, Moon softens almost imperceptibly. You’re starting to think he has no intentions of ever looking away. He lifts a hand towards you but then hesitates. Searches you for something you aren’t sure of. You lean your head to the side in invitation, and his hand cups your face much like Eclipse’s had.

In a sotto voce tone that crawls into your bones and makes its home there, he murmurs, “Clip asked us to give you time. That you wanted to think about it first. That’s why I—why we haven’t said anything. But I also don’t want you to feel like I’m not interested. Because I am. Interested, that is. Very much. In a way that’s probably more eloquent than I am when I’m around you.”

He gives an adorable little giggle that betrays his nervousness, and you titter alongside him.

Unable to not rib him just a little, you say, “Why, Detective Moon, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were feeling shy.”

“Funny. Don’t get used to it,” he warns, but he’s smiling as he does.

It feels good to know that you’re not the only one off your game at this. Makes it more lighthearted. No perfect lines or filtered dialogue like in front of the camera. The mask is off, and the sight you’re seeing beneath it is even more precious to you.

Moon takes a moment to process his next words, and you can tell by the thin whine stemming from his chassis that he’s heavily considering them. You stay quiet as you wait, and when his brow furrows, you know he’s settled whatever internal debate he was warring with.

The chilled hand is slowly warming at your cheek. The emotion on his face runs parallel to what’s been burning in your heart all this time.

“Would you mind if I got a head start too?” he tentatively asks.

There’s no ignoring the knot in your throat. Your stomach is flooded with antsy excitement, and you try to tuck away an errant strand of hair that keeps falling out of place. You feel like you’re shaking from nerves and eagerness. Imagining this exact moment playing out in your head for the past few weeks is very different from suddenly living it now.

You do your best to hide the thrilled tremor in your voice.

“I don’t see why not.”

The words probably don’t come across as confident or unaffected as you’d like, but then Moon is swiping away that loose bit of hair just as easily as he does so your thoughts. You feel him tuck it behind your ear, his fingers brushing back against your cheek a second time before sneaking around to the back of your scalp.

No resistance is offered when he pulls you close. You let your eyelids fall shut again just in time to shiver at the effervescent tap of his permanent grin to the very small corner of your lips, once again surprising you with the location of the kiss, though you won’t complain one bit about that. He doesn’t keep you for very long, but it’s enough that you have to let out a ragged breath that’s been building up ever since he teased you. His kiss leaves you spinning. That’s two for two that you’ve been caught off guard by a romantic display of affection. Well-played.

He shifts back some so that you can make eye contact—a simple task that you are now failing miserably at with impeccable odds.

You feel faint from the swell of emotion that this animatronic manages to pull to the surface with just a single kiss.

A flighty exhale precedes your shaky voice.

“Would it be cliché if I said ‘wow’ after that?”

Moon’s answering smile shines with elation. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the often stoic animatronic so profusely happy.

But before you can dwell on that, something else then catches your notice from his proximity. You scoot back in a little closer, safely preserving in your memory the tiny noise of shock Moon makes so that you can reflect on it later.

You take a deep breath in, and your curiosity momentarily beats out your fidgety nerves.

“Hang on. Is that… cologne?” you mutter, inhaling another whiff to confirm before leaning back, stunned at your findings. “Did you put on cologne tonight?”

Moon shifts again. Seems you’re not the only one feeling fidgety.

“Why do you ask?” he hedges cautiously, black pupils shifting, and you almost think he sounds defensive until his hand leaves your cheek. His fingers disappear into the insides of his coat, rummaging for something out of your view until he then pulls out—to your complete and incredulous astonishment—a can of WD-40.

He gives it a tiny shake.

“Did you want to use some too?”

In all your daydreams, there were a few things you had imagined happening right after you kissed Moon. Some gentle words. A hug, maybe. In the more risqué scenarios, an inability to breathe as he kissed you senseless again and again. All of those had seemed like viable options on the table of your secret hypotheses.

This, though. This was definitely not one of them, and you are baffled. You refuse to believe he just happened to have that can on him out of complete coincidence. It’s purely inconceivable.

You have to tell him as much.

“You have not been carrying that around all day just for the sake of making that joke.”

Moon’s faceplate rotates several degrees. He squints at you suspiciously. Contemplates the deep meaning of the universe, judging by how long he stays silent. Then, he casually hits you with a bombshell.

“You seem like you could use it.”

Your jaw scrapes the floor.

“Excuse me?! Are you implying that I smell?”

“…‘Implying’ is a rather interesting word choice.”

“Moon!”

Any reservations you might have had are banished by the lurching urge to snatch his beloved little hat from his bald little head and chuck it outside. His self-satisifed aura tells you he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

Before you can think of some wisecrack to put the cretin back in his place, Moon smoothly clarifies, “You smell nice. You always do, actually. It’s light and sweet. Pleasant.” He gently pokes the can’s nozzle against your shoulder. “Just like you.”

You’re left speechless for the second time in as many seconds. Your brain is struggling to keep up with the rapid-fire changes, so you sit there useless for a few moments while trying to think of what to say. 

It’s a little unexpected, is all.

Moon appears to be none the worse for wear. He enjoys your surprise for a bit more and then continues on.

“That’s why I put on something nice-smelling too. Or at least what seems to be popular among you humans. Just wanted to put in a little extra effort. For you. Not the WD-40 though, sorry. That’s only for emergencies.”

While still very unexpected, the reasoning is enough to somewhat loosen your twisted tongue. 

“Emergencies,” you parrot, deadpan.

Moon nods. He surreptitiously sets the can behind you on the floor of the backseat.

After another extended beat, a snort escapes you, your face falls into your hand, and your nostrils flare with your amused exhale. Moon’s fans whir a little louder at the sound, and you sigh again before peeking at him through your fingers.

“You’re a dork, you know that? A buffoon.”

The gremlin is practically vibrating in his seat.

“One might even say I’m a jester.” He waggles his brows. “A sleuth jester.”

“Yeah, one might not.”

Your hand falls from your head. You point an accusatory finger at him.

“Clown behavior. That was terrible and unfunny.”

“Wanna see a magic trick?” he asks with glee.

“No,” you bark out around a loud laugh, and he snickers happily.

You sit together in the warm comfort of the car, and the sense of longing draws you into a contemplative quiet while you watch him, and he does much the same. Your smile is going to wear out from all this use it’s been getting, but you don’t mind at all how effortlessly Moon summons it. He has to do very little to tug that giddiness to the surface. A fact that you’ve taken special notice of more so lately.

His attentiveness is apparent even in his actions, and you want to address that.

“For the record,” you say, more muted than earlier so that Moon hears the subdued seriousness in your voice, “I just want you to know that while you putting in extra effort is really sweet and appreciated, it’s also not strictly necessary. I don’t expect you to go out of your way for me. Getting to spend time with you is more than enough already. You don’t need to change anything about yourself to please me.”

The ruby glow dims a little, and Moon’s hands fiddle with the edge of his coat. You have the sneaking suspicion that if he could blush, his cheeks would be matching his optics right about now.

“I know,” he says back, equally gentle. “Actually, that is part of what endeared you to me. The fact that you don’t care that I’m—that any of us are animatronics and have different functions or needs or even lack of needs that humans do have. But I also know that it’s a custom to put in a little extra effort for someone you care about… someone you might be considering building a relationship with.”

His admission presses down like a leaden weight on your tongue.

“Moon…”

You’re not sure what to follow that with. You wish you could express everything that his heartfelt words are doing to you and how they threaten to stop your heart in its tracks if it keeps missing a beat. 

What you do manage to say, gingerly, is much smaller in comparison than everything you want to express, but it’s a start.

“Thank you for being patient with me.” You swallow the nervous lump in your throat and try to focus past that. Moon waits for you to continue with a silent understanding in his demeanor that speaks volumes. A bit meekly, you say, “I doubt it’s much of a secret anymore how I feel about pursuing that with you, Sun, and Eclipse, huh?”

His hands stop playing with his coat. The crescent splitting the dark sapphire blue and lustrous silver of his faceplate curves an elegant sweep along the metal craftsmanship, and you are reminded not for the first time that Moon is beautiful. In your mind’s eye, you trace an imaginary line around the smooth curls and hidden divots, every slight highlight and blemish and silver scratch. With your imagination taking flight, you are met with a fantasy not unlike the one you’d had of Sun weeks ago. In this one, you sit in Moon’s lap, cradling the lower half of his faceplate in your hands, and your lips find those intricacies to lay a kiss on, to bestow your affection. His own hands paint a delicate dance that rides up the back of your shirt while he flirts with the edges of it.

It’s just as intimate and gripping, and it leaves you shuddering in your seat. As you blink, and the scene dissipates.

You want that. You want it a lot. There’s not a shadow of a doubt in you about that. No shying from the truth now.

All you have to do is take the next step forward into the others’ waiting arms.

Moon doesn’t reply, which you think you appreciate more than a verbal confirmation. He leans away from you back into his seat much to your disappointment and blinks slowly, a languid relaxation to his serene expression. As far as he’s concerned, there’s seemingly no one else in the world now but you and him.

You're tempted. You doubt he’d say no to letting you test the waters with more than just the tips of your toes. But the snow is falling, and you have a party to get to, and you can’t remain frozen forever in this moment. It’s hard to remember your other obligations, but you manage to peel your gaze away.

“We should—” you swallow around your voice crack and clear your throat. “We should probably get going. To the party and all that.”

A rumbling respiration stems from Moon’s metal chassis. The lunar brother reluctantly shakes off his daze, muttering some indiscernible words to himself, and he sets the car back into motion down the street. The hotel isn’t far now, just up ahead and poking through the cloud of dark gray and white whirling outside. Even still, it surprises you when there’s a subtle tug on your wrist.

Moon’s fingers curl around you, slipping one hand free of your cup so that he can grasp it. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, but you don’t need to. His fierce focus on the wet and slushy roads tells you all.

When he pulls up to the hotel’s overhang, the valet draws up to his side to discuss parking. You tune them out in favor of enjoying the two points of warmth in your hands, one around your coffee and the other ensnared in leather. All too soon, Moon lets go and gets out to let the valet take over.

You gather your things and tighten your coat around your waist. In that very short time frame, your door is then swung open, and Moon gives a debonair dip to hold out a hand to you, his other arm behind his back.

“I believe I offered to escort you in,” he remarks with a tinge of coyness. It seems he’s getting a little of that spark back after your moment together.

Your surprised sound at the unexpected gesture threatens to oust you, but you do your best to keep your cool.

“Such a gentleman,” you croon.

His low brush of laughter makes the cold feel not as strong on your cheeks as he helps you out of the car, the heels of your shoes wobbling on the cobblestone until you find your balance. His eyes reflect the twinkling golden ambience of the city lights around you, warm and delighted. They brighten even more when he offers you his arm and you take it happily, shivering from the cold that cuts through the tailored fabric of your suit pants.

Together, you and Moon enter the skyscraper hotel, and after showing your identification to the personnel and each being given some sort of pass, you are fast directed to the second floor where the holiday party is being held. In the elevator, you can’t seem to bring yourself to let go of Moon’s arm. He doesn’t seem too keen on letting you go either. His other gloved hand rests smoothly atop your own as if to keep you there.

As soon as the elevator doors slide open, a symphony of music and conversation greets you. The noise would normally grate against your ears, but with the calm presence of your friend guiding you into the chaos, your shoulders stay relaxed and your steps sure. Several coworkers take notice of your entrance and nod or raise their glasses in celebratory welcome. You wave to your colleagues, but you search for someone else. Technically two someones, but in this crowd, you know you won’t have to look long.

Moon steers you towards the left of the floor where open double doors lead into the main hub of activity. There’s another check-in desk there, but you and Moon only have to flash your name badges to be waved on in. The room echoes the same noise and bustling activity just outside it, with more of the film and production crew milling about and enjoying themselves. Lifting your head, you get a waft of what can only be delicious food, and you absentmindedly let out a pitiful whine as your stomach grumbles.

Soft snickering from above pulls your attention, and you glare at Moon. His merriment shines wide in his teeth.

“Do we need to take a quick detour?” he asks, reading you in a heartbeat.

You release a pained sigh.

“No, I can wait. Let’s find your brothers first.”

“Already done.” Moon points to a table off in the corner, and sure enough, twin sets of rays, one yellow and the other blue and purple, peek out from the chairs. Both are facing away from you since they’re sitting beside each other, so they haven’t noticed your arrival yet, something your feet seem keen on remedying as they hasten over to your friends. You end up dragging Moon along for the ride, but he’s quick to catch himself and match your speed.

Sun and Eclipse appear in deep conversation, the former chattering enthusiastically while the latter answers more slowly, slouched against the wall next to his chair and a hand shadowing his optics. You can’t help but admire how the sharp suits and ties they wear fit them both very attractively, though Sun’s already discarded his coat on the back of his chair. Eclipse catches sight of you and Moon first, and he gives a little wave that makes you accidentally clench Moon’s hand and causes Sun to spin to see you as well just as you reach them.

“It’s about time you got here!” he exclaims. “We were just about to start dinner without you.”

You tut in skeptical disbelief, saying, “A likely story. You can’t even eat, which… makes me wonder. Why are you holding a glass?”

Sun looks at the flute in his hand then back at you.

“What, this? It’s champagne. One of the waitstaff gave it to me, so now I’m trying to blend in. Is it working?”

From over your shoulder, Moon says, “Considering that you start to act tipsy whenever a certain special someone is around, I’d say you fit right in.”

You dutifully ignore Sun’s indignant squeak because your attention is quickly arrested elsewhere. In one chivalrous motion, Moon slips away from your side to pull out a chair for you. Your head ducks as the temperature of the room inches up a couple of degrees, and it only grows stronger when he helps you shed your heavy coat to drape it over the back of the chair. You murmur your thanks and slide into a seat across from Eclipse, Moon pushing your chair back in. He answers with a hum of acknowledgement and takes the one next to you.

Clearing your throat, you attempt to focus on what he’d just said.

“So who’s the special someone?”

Eclipse snorts loudly, and you tilt your head at him, confused. Sun rubs a hand over his optics with a groan. You can hear his internal fans kick on from over here.

The brother sitting next to you is the only one to take pity on you, but his amusement could be classified as tangible.

“I was referring to you, sweetness.”

“Oh.” Your mouth might be hanging a little open, but you can’t be blamed for it. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting. Actually, there are a lot of things happening tonight that you weren’t expecting, and you have a sneaking suspicion they’d be obvious to literally anyone else. “I hadn’t, ah, noticed.”

“Really?” Moon’s voice is dry, intoning more of a statement than a question.

“Don’t be rude,” Sun chastises Moon, but you think that might be because he’s just still embarrassed from his brother’s remark. “They haven’t eaten yet. You can’t be mean to someone with an empty stomach. It’s bad manners.”

Eclipse squints at him.

“How is that considered bad manners, but not the whole being mean part in general?”

“Because I don’t want to exempt myself from being allowed to get on the nerves of my big brother.” Sun turns back to Moon. “Stop kicking me under the table.”

“Move your damn big feet then,” Moon fires back, slumping deliberately in his seat.

The table shudders with a jarring bang, and you carefully tuck your legs close to your chair to avoid catching any crossfire of the sudden battle happening under the white tablecloth. You share a knowing look with Eclipse, and the dazed tiredness in his gaze makes you smile.

He sighs.

“Did you have a safe drive here?”

Was Moon a safe driver for once, is what he’s really asking. You rest your chin in your hand and lean forward.

“It was a nice, smooth ride,” you muse, fingers curling around your coffee cup. “My chauffeur knew some tricks that made the trip seem to go by so much faster. Feels like we got here in no time at all.”

Eclipse sighs and briefly closes his eyes as if calling upon divine intervention. You think if he had an actual nose, he’d be pinching the bridge of it.

“How many red lights did he run?”

“None,” Moon says, rejoining the conversation as if he and Sun weren’t just engaged in a slapdash battle of footsie. “I take care of my passengers and ensure their safety at all costs.”

“Past experience and numerous police tickets say otherwise,” Eclipse returns wryly.

Moon’s grin sharpens.

“Performance is based on tips.”

Pupils as black as midnight peer out once more, flicking between you and Moon in confusion before settling on you.

“And did you… tip him?”

You give Eclipse a conspiratorial wink.

“I held his hand while he drove us here.”

“Mercy.” Sun recoils, absolutely appalled. “You risked him driving with only one hand on the wheel, and in this weather? Are you perhaps feeling unwell?”

“If you try to suggest putting your fingers in my mouth again, we’re gonna have a problem, and that’s a threat.” You point at Sun for emphasis, and he pretends you’re holding him at gunpoint, his hands flying up in a pacifying manner. One of your eyes squeezes shut, and you mime shooting, which makes him slump back dramatically in his seat like you got him square in the chest. You shake your head, lips twitching upward while Sun straightens again. “I’m not sick, but I am hungry. Actually, I think I’m gonna go grab some food before it’s all gone.”

“Allow me,” Eclipse says, and it’s not a question. He rises to his feet.

You consider getting up anyways just for the principle of the matter, but a single finger pointing at you to sit back down is enough to have you settling in your chair with a fake pout.

While buttoning his suit coat with one hand, he asks, “Anything you’re particularly in the mood for?”

You consider for a moment.

“Mm, no, I trust your judgment. You probably know my tastebuds better than I do at this point.”

An emotion passes across Eclipse’s dark faceplate, something that makes your skin prickle at the sudden knifelike quality to it. Instead of voicing whatever he’s thinking, he just spins his rays and returns your wink from earlier. 

“I’ll be back with a plate.”

He saunters away, politely dodging groups of people and conversations as he makes his way towards the mouthwatering smell of food. You track him for a little while as you nurse your coffee until you’re brought back to the present at your table. Sun and Moon are being unusually quiet, and both are staring at you.

“What?” you say after a pause.

Sun’s smile normally warms you to the soul, but there are times when it sends you into fight or flight mode, just like Eclipse’s. In fact, all three of the brothers share that uncanny ability, and it’s no less disarming whenever it’s aimed at you. The meaning behind the near-predatory flash of teeth can operate anywhere on the scale of danger, and depending on Sun’s mood, it can quickly tip over into territory you want to avoid.

His rays blur in one direction then the other. 

“You have a way with words, precious.”

“…Thanks. I think.”

You don’t know if that was meant to be a compliment, but you’ll take it as one anyways.

Sun doesn’t say either way, but the deep blue of his pupils are cutting. It’s offset by the rather distracting way he’s swirling his champagne around in the flute like it’s a glass of wine. You’re not exactly sure why he’s doing that, but you are impressed at how not a single drop of liquid spills over the top despite being full.

A couple of minutes tick by as you simply relax and chat with the brothers while sipping your drink. It’s not long until restlessness begins digging in, however, and you give a cursory glance around the room and tap your fingers on the table.

“So what’re your plans after this?”

The question is barely out in the open before Moon answers with a sarcastic, “Going home and getting absolutely plastered.”

Apathy ricochets off you and Sun.

“They should make a park for people like you.” Sun tips his glass at his brother. “An unamusement park.”

“Hilarious.”

“No, it’d be the opposite of that.”

“That’s just Wall Street, Sun,” you say around a yawn, and Sun somehow makes a noise like he’s clicking a tongue he doesn’t have. You don’t question it.

Moon hmphs and crosses his arms like a child. You decide it’s best not to tell him that it only endears him to you even more.

“You do have a bit of a dry personality when it comes to acting,” you say, reaching up to scratch your chin in contemplation. When Moon’s faceplate swivels at you, utterly dumbfounded, you quickly add, “Not that that’s a bad thing! It’s just different from what is more common nowadays. That’s probably why you and Sun complement each other so well too. In fact, I think you would have been great in a show like Dragnet, Detective Moon.”

“No, don’t get him started—” Sun begins in a petulant whine, but it’s too late.

Moon’s red optics widen a fraction, and he suddenly gets a gleam in them, like he just got hit with inspiration. His metal fingers tug the brim of his hat so low that only the light of crimson shines from the shadow. Then his hands make quick work of loosening the knot of his tie just enough that it sits slightly askew. He squints across the table at the wall, staring at nothing with such intensity that it’s like he’s scrutinizing something a great distance away. His shoulders pull back, while he mimes takes a heavy drag of a smoking cigar.

Finally, to tie the charade together into a neat bow, he says in a very husky, deadpan voice that cracks with static, “Just the facts, ma’am.”

Sun’s eyes roll so hard, they could fall out of his head. You grin wide. In your peripheral, you think you see dark rays approaching your table. 

“It’s almost like he does it effortlessly,” you joke playfully.

“That’s because there is no effort put into it,” Sun says, exasperated. “He’s not acting. Monotone is his personality.”

A sneer breaks Moon’s act, and he spins his head around in a complete circle to taunt his brother. Defying all physics, his hat remains squarely on all the while. 

“Sun’s jealous because he knows if this were a different show, he’d be relegated to sidekick status.”

As Moon’s speaking, Eclipse returns, full plate in hand. He sets it down in front of you, to which you thank him, picking up the silverware next to you. His rays give a little wiggle in return, and he melts back into his seat with a grunt, propping his elbow back on the table and resting his head on his hand.

“I think being a main character has gotten to your head,” Sun returns snippily. There’s an exaggeration to his voice and haughty head tilt that tells you he’s just as much bantering along with Moon. The swirling of his drink gets more aggressive. “We’ll see how well that works out for you. Maybe this will be the start of my villain arc, and I’ll secretly become the big bad of the story with a mafia to my name.”

“Ugh, please do,” Eclipse groans from where he lounges, dragging his hand down his faceplate. “I’m tired of having to be mean.”

That snags your attention. You shuffle a bite of what might be teriyaki chicken onto your tongue and chew thoughtfully.

Holding your hand in front of your mouth as you munch so that you don’t endure another lecture from Sun, you say, a bit muffled, “I really should find the time to sit in on one of your classes soon. I wanna hear all of your secrets to playing the big bad villain.”

Eclipse’s chuckle flows on a deep wave that buzzes in his chest and warms yours, making your own cheeks hurt, both from the large bite of food you’re chewing and from how you beam at fostering such a sound. His low-lidded black eyes slide over to you, peering out from under his hand.

“That’s easy,” he says. “Anytime I have to act angry, I just think about these two idiots and the shit they make me put up with.”

Sun’s visage turns affronted.

“Language! And what exactly do you mean by that anyways?”

“He certainly couldn’t be referring to all the times we’ve pranked him,” Moon retorts, pretending to examine his nonexistent nails.

You nod sagely in agreement.

“Or the times you’ve tried to sabotage his shoots by distracting him.”

“Or how often we customize his wardrobe for fun.”

“And there was also that time you hid his car keys in a jello mold.”

Moon brightens at that one like you’ve made him recall a fond memory.

Sun leans back in his seat and bends an arm over the back of it. His frown slants sideways.

“Well, when you say it like that, it makes us sound bad.”

You twirl your fork on your plate and share a look with the animatronic from across the table.

“I wonder why.”

Your group laughs then along with one supremely ragged sigh from Eclipse, stirring up a decent amount of noise in the already loud room. The conversation continues much the same, with the three brothers taking cracks at each other while you watch the show and scarf down your dinner. It’s by the time that your plate is scraped clean and you’re sipping on the cold leftovers of the coffee Moon got you that a new presence is drawn in by the chatter in your small corner. You don’t immediately notice them until they speak up.

“Why am I not surprised to see you four all cozying up together in your own little area?” a calm voice addresses your table.

You glance up and find a much too complacent smirk staring you down. 

Sun takes a gander at your table’s new visitor and acquires an awfully mischievous glint.

“Uh oh. Security breach! Someone better let staff know that the Loch Ness Monster has gotten out of containment again.”

Like clockwork, Vanessa’s eyes narrow, and she places her hands on her hips, lips pursing.

“That nickname hasn’t been funny in all the ten other times you’ve used it.”

“Au contraire, little fish. It ages like a fine wine.”

Rolling her eyes at the lighthearted taunt from the jesting animatronic, she turns back to you.

“So when’s the wedding?” she presses, apparently deciding to return fire with fire.

A scoff trickles out, and you consider diving into a lengthy, not at all defensive rant about how the rumors your coworkers love circulating are just that: rumors. Just because you’ve decided you want to be with the celestial animatronics doesn’t mean you’ve all had a conversation about making that public yet, if ever.

But then Moon decides that now is apparently the best time to slide his arm behind you and tuck it over your shoulders, and you’re left choking down your own rebuttal because he just threw it in the mud in one shove.

Vanessa doesn’t smile often. She looks like a damn cat that caught a canary now.

On reflex, as if you can salvage your dying dignity, you say, “We’re not dating, Ness.”

Technically not yet since you still need to have a chat with Sun privately and then discuss with all three of them to make sure you’re on the same page. But you don’t need to clarify that.

“Yeah, Nessie,” Moon adds, dutifully ignoring Vanessa’s immediate grimace at her other equally despised nickname. Really, though, he needs to stop talking all at once. “Can’t you see we’re all just hanging out like a couple of buddy ol’ pals?”

“Not helping, Moon,” you half-heartedly lament, trying to formulate a protest, but the blonde-haired woman has already taken the bait.

She lifts a brow.

“If this is how you treat your ‘friends,’” she says, actually pausing to make the air quotes, “then I’m glad we never became more than associates.”

“Aw, there’s no need to be so pessimistic,” Sun drawls with a heavy inflection, sweet like molasses. He reclines in his chair, crossing his legs. “Just because we never had a spark between us doesn’t mean there aren't still plenty of fish in the sea. Or lake, I should say. The show’s not over yet.”

“It’s about to end prematurely if you keep talking like that,” Vanessa shoots back without dropping the flatness in her tone one iota.

Sun’s smirk is all dangerous edges, and his rays twirl flirtatiously.

The display and banter is nothing out of the ordinary between those three. Though she may deny they’re friends, Vanessa has always gotten along well with all of the brothers, which is probably another reason you’ve also gotten along well with her. She’s been in the acting business longer than you have, and instead of trying to show you how things are done, in the beginning, she watched and noted your own technique. Only after you asked her for her advice did she offer it. She’s brought a professionalism to the show that is greatly needed, yet she still keeps an open mind to how everyone else does their own work.

For that, she’s earned a lot of respect from you. It took only a little nudging to get her to warm up to your friend group. The feigned disinterest is now just part of the usual routine, and you know for a fact that no one except Moon and Sun have gotten her to laugh aloud. 

You owe a lot to the show you’ve all worked on together for the friendships alone that you’ve gotten through it.

“Have you been enjoying the party?” You decide to reroute the conversation before an all out war can break out in the form of snappy comebacks.

Vanessa groans.

“I could be relaxing in bed with a hot cup of tea. In fact, I should be relaxing in bed with a hot cup of tea. But for some godforsaken reason, I made the poor choice to come here instead.”

“Because you like us,” Moon singsongs, circling a finger along the white tablecloth.

Vanessa deigns to ignore that. Everyone knows he’s right, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before she ever agrees with him.

She addresses you instead.

“I see they’ve been practicing their terrible pick-up lines. I’m sorry you had to be the unfortunate one and settle for scraping the bottom of the barrel, unlike the rest of us.”

“Wow,” Sun huffs, dry as sandpaper.

“Deserved,” Eclipse chips in, just as dry but no less entertained at the spectacle unfolding.

“Like I said,” you say, not concealing your amusement at Vanessa’s persistence, “we’re not an item yet, so stop trying to set us up.”

“Yeah, I really don’t think you need my help with that,” she returns far too smoothly.

Your jaw goes slack, but Vanessa steamrolls right over your scandalized shock as usual.

“Anyways, I came over to fetch you for a second if you can spare one from your boyfriends. Freddy is asking for you.”

“Oh!” At that, you glance around in search of the bear animatronic, purposefully ignoring that last small dig.

With his big, hulking frame, it doesn’t take long to spot Freddy. He’s chatting with a few others in a semi-circle. As expected, you catch the slightest glimpse of Gregory next to him, though the poor kid seems miserable in his suit and tie. You can more than relate and have to stifle a small chuckle at his pout.

You turn back to your table and ease out of your chair onto stiff heels and creaking joints. Oof, that’s definitely the sound of your knees going snap, crackle, and pop.

“I’ll be right back. Save my seat?”

Moon blinks at it. Then back at you.

“Why? Is it dying?”

Before you can give back a snarky reply, Sun tacks on with faux concern, “Hey, is your fridge running?”

You share a wordless, pointed look with Vanessa and decide it’s best to not indulge them before they can get on a roll because once they start egging each other on, there’s no stop in sight.

Eclipse nods at you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep them in line while you’re gone.”

The twin snide leers in response tell you otherwise, but you’ll let him deal with that. His problem now. As you turn, you get a glimpse of Moon hunkering in close to his brothers with an excited sharpness in his movement.

Vanessa doesn’t have to say a word while you walk beside her. You just take her exasperation in stride because you know you don’t have a good rebuttal ready. She ends up sticking with you all the way to Freddy’s group, giving you the tiny impression that she’s been requested to “chaperone” you from one side of the room to the next.

As you’re weaving around the many groups of friendly faces and cheery waves, greeting them back with as much enthusiasm, you catch sight of Vanessa’s tie and nearly do a double-take. On a simple black background is a tiny print of many rabbits, with a myriad of bow ties, hats, and ribbons. It’s so fitting, you can’t not say something.

“I like the tie,” you snicker.

She follows where you gesture with a hand. It could just be the light in the room, but you swear you see a hint of mirth from her at you noticing.

“I thought it would be funny,” she says in an unfazed tone that makes your breath hitch around another sharp snort.

A lot of your coworkers find Vanessa to be standoffish. They don’t know what they’re missing because at her heart, she is one of the funniest people you’ve come to know. It just took a little to get her to warm up to you, and now, you consider her a great friend. On top of that, she’s incredibly talented to boot. You’re beyond glad that she was cast for her role in the show. That final showdown between you and her still gives you shivers even with all of it being an act.

“It is pretty fitting,” you agree, trying your best to don your best blank façade and failing. “Since it’s the year of the rabbit, after all.”

“Ugh. Now I know you’ve been hanging out exclusively with those three idiots. And what’s worse is I’ve heard that joke at least a hundred times tonight.”

“A hundred and one now, and the night’s still young.” You elbow her tauntingly, and she shies away with a scowl.

Vanessa appears prepared to tell you exactly what she thinks of your terrible jokes, but before she can, your name is called out in a sonorous clap.

You find Freddy eagerly waving you forward, and without a second thought, you’re by his side and being swept into a ferocious hug.

“It’s so good to see you outside of work for a change! I never thought those rascals would let you out of their sights for the holidays.”

A terrible groan threatens to break your throat. 

“Not you too, Freddy,” you bemoan.

“No worries, I’m just pulling your leg.” He lets you go and beams down at you, good mood infectious. “But all jokes aside, I am glad you decided to come out tonight. The party wouldn’t be the same without the star lead.”

You blow off his statements, a little frazzled and more than a little flustered.

“Oh, ease up on them, Frederick. You’ll make the poor thing blush,” joins yet another voice, deep yet muted.

William Afton’s figure is just as imposing even outside of the villainous character he portrays. You don’t know how you missed him in the small circle Freddy’s been chatting up, but his piercing observation of you has you straightening up. He isn’t someone you’ve had a chance to really get to know, but as a more senior actor in the group, he’s posed an intimidating factor in his wealth of experience alone. You’ve seen him in action; he’s incredible.

What’s even more of a delightful surprise is his present company—namely, the small child standing next to him, their hand in his and swinging the pair’s arms happily.

The child is none other than the actor that plays a much younger version of the vigilante, one whom you’ve found to be utterly adorable. They’ve easily won the hearts of the cast and crew, and judging by the way William holds their tiny hand so delicately, they’ve gotten him wrapped around their little finger too. And even if those two weren’t holding hands, you’d already know how close they’ve gotten in the time they’ve worked together because of all the little anecdotes that’ve been passed around the grapevine about them becoming an unlikely pair of friends. Their bond reminds you of a paternal relationship. William is the one who gave them the beloved nickname Ribbon, thanks to the bright spool of red they’ve taken to tying in their hair upon realizing it was also part of your costume. It’s a reminder that they look up to you, for whatever reason that makes you hyper aware of everything you say or do around them. You’re no role model, but you’ll do your best to be one for Ribbon if that’s what they need.

As for the nickname, you’re sure it was meant to be a silly, one-time thing. But then others caught wind of it, and now it’s just kind of stuck. The little child actor couldn’t be more thrilled at getting their own moniker and almost downright refuses to respond to anything else.

They catch you watching and give a jaunty wiggle of the fingers of their free hand—a wave you can’t help but return. The kid bounces on their toes, pleased.

“It’s about time you came over and said hello,” quips a sarcastic tone that you recognize in a heartbeat.

You peer around Freddy.

“Hey, kiddo. How’s tricks?”

Gregory pulls a sour grimace.

“Don’t call me that.”

“He doesn’t like being called a kid,” Ribbon helpfully explains. They light up impishly. “It’s a sore spot.”

“It’s not a—” Gregory stops and forces himself to simmer down, rolling his eyes. “I’m not that young.”

“And I’m sure they mean nothing by it,” Freddy smooths over, likely sensing the argument before it can begin. “But even still, there’s nothing wrong with being a child! Why, you have gotten to experience something that most other kids your age have only ever seen on TV. That’s something to be proud of.”

“My parents let me skip school,” Ribbon brags when Gregory just grumbles.

You click your tongue sharply at that.

“They’d better not be! Else I’m gonna have some very strong words with them, dumpling.”

That has the tot giggling, and William shakes his head. 

“No need, I already checked. They’re not missing out on school. I actually had the chance to meet their parents sometime ago.” He pauses to subtly indicate to a couple who aren’t too far away, chatting with a few people you vaguely recognize. Vanessa is also talking with them, and you wonder when she snuck away from your side.

William continues, “They informed me that any education outside of school hours is being handled at home or with tutors. And in fact, this little one brought their math homework to the set last month and showed me just how quickly they’re learning.”

The two share a small glance. It’s easy to see the pride in William’s features.

Then Ribbon turns to you.

They cup a hand over their mouth and loudly whisper, “He didn’t know the answers to some of the questions, so I had to show him how.”

You share a conspiratorial gasp.

“No kidding? Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re here to help these grownups learn, huh?”

A toothy grin flashes, and they nod excitedly. It’s then you notice the giant red silk in their braid, tied like a bow. The ends curl and frame their face cutely. You think you might even hear the chime of a bell.

Guess they’re going all out on their outfit tonight. Seeing them mimic your vigilante costume even outside of work grants you a deep fulfillment that runs through your chest. You hope that wherever they end up afterwards, it’ll be overflowing with only good, kind people. And hopefully their parents will preserve their childhood as much as possible too.

Anyways,” you say, turning and regaining Gregory’s attention, “Sorry, bud. Freddy’s right that I didn’t mean anything by it, but I’ll make sure to not call you that from now on.”

Gregory shrugs, crosses his arms, then uncrosses them like he’s not sure how to react. More than likely, he just feels put on the spot.

He chews on a response for a bit before he goes with, “It’s fine if you do it, I guess. Just don’t make it a habit, or else I’ll start calling you old.”

You feign shocked betrayal.

“How dare you? I’ll have you know that I’m always at my prime.” But then, unable to resist playing along, you pretend to feebly sway on your feet and place a hand to your chest, while the other reaches behind and presses at your spine, and you hunch over. “Oh, but your words—they cut so deep! I can feel them, seeping into my poor mortal bones, cursing me with old age. Agh, my back! It’s breaking!”

Like you’d expected, Gregory can’t quite hide his amusement at your shenanigans, and though he gives a valiant effort, his smirk is strong across his face.

“You’re such a theater kid,” he mocks.

You straighten with a frown.

“Oh, that’s real rich coming from you, shorty. Them’s fightin’ words.”

The sardonic, gloating image of the other threatens to start a semi-hostile bickering match between you and him. Fortunately or unfortunately for Gregory, Freddy intervenes like the paternalistic figure he’s come to embody.

“Alright, that’s enough. No need to start verbally swinging. I swear, you’re like a couple of cats and dogs sniping at each other any chance you get.”

Very maturely, you jab an accusatory finger at Gregory and retort, “Don’t look at me. He started it.”

The bear animatronic gives you a heavily imploring look. Your aura of innocence doesn’t seem to be swaying him in the slightest. Pity.

“You’re just mad that I’m right,” the kid taunts.

“Gregory,” Freddy warns, rounding on him and sounding for all intents and purposes like a disappointed parent.

You puff up your cheeks, readying another witty comeback on your tongue, but Freddy must have some sort of sixth sense because he shoots you another damning look that halts the friendly fire in its tracks. A silent standoff occurs between you, him, and the spunky little brat who thinks he’s winning, judging by the proud uptilt of his chin and his haughtily lifted brow. Which, to be fair, he’s not wrong in believing that, but details.

“To completely change the subject,” Freddy says before you can research if it’s legal to throw hands with a kid in self-defense, “I called you over here because I wanted to tell you something while I have the chance. And to start with, I’m sure many others have said the same thing to you already, but I want you to know it’s been a pleasure getting to watch you work throughout filming.”

One of his hands settles on your shoulder and stills you entirely, though you certainly weren’t expecting that last remark either. He makes sure he has your full attention before he keeps talking.

“I think I can speak for everyone here when I say that you’ve brought a uniqueness to the show. There is something to be noted about the good nature you carry into every circumstance, and as such, I’m grateful our paths were able to cross because of it. You have heart, and that shines well in your role. I believe the success we’ve had would not have been so easily attainable without you as the vigilante.”

In just a few short sentences, Freddy manages to strike down your smile and hollow you out. You stare in dumbstruck fashion at the bear animatronic. The heartfelt honesty wasn’t something you were expecting or ready for, and it cuts through your defenses and threatens to crumple you like a napkin.

“Freddy,” you hesitantly start, growing uncomfortable, “that’s really sweet and all, but I’m not—”

He gently interrupts you by briefly holding up a hand. You fall quiet.

“Please, let me finish being sentimental and overbearing while I still have you here, and then I’ll let you get back to the party. Since we’ve begun working together, I haven’t quite had an opportunity to tell you this, but I think you are an extraordinary individual and a talented actor. More importantly, however, I know that some of our… shall we say chattier team members have been spreading rumors. You probably know exactly what I’m referring to, so I’ll refrain from going into any details in case there are other listening ears nearby.”

He pauses just long enough to seemingly collect his thoughts. The unexpected direction of this conversation has your heart immediately jolting in your chest and pounding erratically, fearful of what he might say after hearing all of the gossip. Despite the sudden urge to turn tail and run, you hold back the panic that looms just on the edges of your peripheral. It waits to descend, circling like a hawk, and you push it back with an obstinate force. 

You will wait to hear him out first, though you pray that he hasn’t called you over to condemn your relationships with the celestial brothers.

Perhaps your stone-faced silence is a dead giveaway, or maybe the stiffness in your jaw is actually a trembling line that betrays your worry. Either way, Freddy takes a good, long look at you, and it’s then that his expression changes. Determination or certainty or something close straightens his shoulders and eases his trepidation away.

He continues in a much more private murmur, for your ears alone.

“My point is, in spite of those rumors, I can’t help but notice how increasingly happy you’ve become, even in this small timespan. You seem brighter than before. Lighter on your feet. I know I didn’t meet you prior to us working alongside each other, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I’m sounding presumptuous here because that truly isn’t my intent.” When his smile reappears, it’s like a ray of sunshine shining proudly upon you. His tone overflows with his benevolence as he finishes, softer still, “I just want to say that whatever that happiness is and whomever it might be with—if that is indeed the case—I hope it is something that works out for you. And I hope you pursue it if it does. Because like many others here, you deserve to have good things in your life too. So don’t ever let anyone convince you otherwise, no matter what they may say or believe.”

A friendly or perhaps comforting squeeze grips your shoulder. The following pause is loud.

Having said his piece, Freddy waits patiently for you to respond or maybe just to mull over what he said. Or to do anything at all instead of just gape at him.

Something slips into your eye. Both of them, funnily enough. You wait a moment too long to blink the odd sensation away, and it starts to burn.

Freddy notices, because of course he does, and his brow furrows.

“I’m sorry. It seems I’ve made you upset by what I said.”

You wave off his concern.

“No, no, I’m fine, really,” you lie very convincingly. “Don’t worry, it’s fine. It’s okay. I mean, I’m just—”

You bite your tongue to stop the immediate urge to deflect. You don’t like to think of yourself as overly emotional. Your soul lies in your work, and that’s where your emotions shine. You also know that while Freddy’s praise is flattering, it’s far from true. There are so many talented, gifted people working on this production. Anything you do is but a speck in the grand scheme of things, and a great deal of other people deserve credit far more than you do.

Still, it’s a palpable relief to hear what he said and to know that you have someone supportive in your corner. It touches you deeply because while it’s one thing to be recognized for your work by someone like him, it is a whole new matter to hear an outsider’s approval of the relationships you’ve been brewing over restlessly. Freddy is a role model—an inspiration—to the team. In many ways, he’s become a sort of parental figure that many look up to, you included. Having your silly human heart’s desires be acknowledged and embraced by him means a lot to you more than any kind of praise. A whole lot.

So much so that it stabs right to the center of all the inner turmoil that’s been burgeoning inside you without an outlet, and your ears feel hot and your throat tight. 

You attempt to just laugh it off, sounding a bit uneven and watery. 

“Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you to say that,” you say at last, and the easygoing tone you were shooting for kind of falls flat.

You’re exactly like he said: happier and lighter. Have been for weeks—months—now. But especially recently. Just took you a little longer than most to notice.

You’re certain though about what you want. You don’t feel like you need to test the waters anymore. Originally, you’d been alarmed at jumping into three relationships headfirst without any thought, but truth is, you were thinking of it long beforehand. You just refused to see it for what it was, the longing for something more than friendship. This isn’t your emotions getting confused from what you act out in front of a camera, like you’d originally feared.

The teasing and rumors are things you’ve gotten used to over time. But what Freddy said goes farther than that, and it’s beyond refreshing to hear someone else’s perspective confirm what your intuition has been shouting from the start.

As you wipe your eyes with a hand, you say only a little shakily, “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you. I think I needed to hear that more than you realize.” You take a moment to collect yourself, swallowing hard and letting the immense relief settle your nerves.

You’re here. It’s okay. It will be more than okay, but at least you know that you have people in your corner who genuinely care. You weren’t exactly ready for the emotional rollercoaster you just rode, but you’re thankful nonetheless. It feels good to not be alone like you’d once thought. It feels incredible.

As the racing in your chest calms back down, the levelheadedness returns. Freddy is still waiting like a worried spectator, so you decide to reassure him in the best way you know how.

Your smile is small but facetious.

“You know, it’s a good thing you approached me about this. Here I was, all worried you’d turn me down, but I’m so glad you finally saw the light and decided to confess your undying love for me before the clock strikes midnight.”

For an animatronic, Freddy does a fantastic job of blanching.

“Oh! No, that’s not… Ah, I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding.”

He panics to the point his voicebox starts to stutter as he backtracks. William steps in to rescue him.

“They’re joking, Frederick. They know you’re not the one who’s madly fallen for them.” His eyes slide over to you. “Which those three have, by the way.”

You spread your arms in disbelief, neck burning.

“Geez, did everyone else figure out my love life before me or something?”

“Only a little.” The man smirks, something that is extremely hard not to react to when it’s so unlike him.

“What’s a love life?” Ribbon innocently pipes up.

Gregory replies, “Tch, don’t ask them because they clearly don’t know.”

Freddy pats the top of the boy’s head.

“None of that now. Be nice. They can work things out in their own time. There’s no rush.”

You don’t have the heart to tell Freddy that that is exactly what you’ve been worrying over. So you instead peer back over to your table, gnawing on your lip as you think.

There’s not a clear view of them, but you can see Sun’s rays spinning wide as he converses with his brothers and a few others who have swung by to chat, standing beside the table. You wonder what they’re all talking about and suffocate the desire to go back over there. Just because you want to be with them doesn’t mean you have to act like some lovesick puppy.

As you’re weighing the pros and cons of making up some very transparent excuse to slip away from your group and return to the boys, a discordant echo of feedback rings through the crowd, making everyone wince.

“Sorry!” a distant voice yells, and then there’s distinct tapping on a microphone. “Test, test, testing, is this thing on now? I guess it is after that little noise.”

Everyone turns to the source, and you see the executive producer on a raised platform with a mic, two large projector screens on the wall behind him. Once he’s got the mic in working order, he requests everyone to take their seats, and you try to hide your elation at being dismissed from social convention. You make sure to wish the others a farewell and happy new year in case you don’t get to see them again later that night, giving an especially grateful squeeze to Freddy’s arm, and then you hustle your way back to three shining faces.

In the end, Moon proves to have been a valiant defender of your chair after all, and you reclaim the spot next to him while the man who organized the event launches into a lengthy speech of thank yous and cheers to the future progress of the show. 

The distraction allows you a private moment to reflect on what just transpired and ease back into a calmer state. However, when you wipe your eyes a final time to stop any meddlesome tears in their tracks, your actions do not go unnoticed like you’d hoped.

Moon turns to you and leans in close so that he can whisper.

“Are you alright?” His concern is a selfless gesture that touches you deeply, like he’s ready to jump at a moment’s notice for your sake.

Your eyes glisten a little more at the sweet thoughtfulness.

“I’m fine. Promise.” At his persisting worry, you gently clarify, “It’s nothing bad. I’m just… really, really happy.”

Your heart leaps with your words, confirming the veracity of them.

Surprise rounds off the lines of disquiet and inclines the edges of his mouth. Moon’s steady regard holds unmistakable compassion.

“Good, I’m glad. Still, let me know if you need anything, and I’ll take care of it.”

You’re not at your verbal best right now, so you nod, and he shifts back to the speaker. You think that’s that, but then one of his hands seeks out and rests on the top of your lap, palm up. An offering. The questioning flash of red is only just visible at this angle. 

You try to not let your sentimentality show so plainly to the room from you beaming as you slip your hand into his. It feels like you’re shaking with relief and euphoria.

From there, it’s easier to focus on the speech. The speaker informs the party that they are welcome to stay till midnight to watch the fireworks that the city will be setting off across the harbor. The hotel is waterfront, meaning the room’s windows facing the harbor will provide an exceptional view of the night sky. After that, the hotel has requested that everyone vacate the event room no later than one in the morning if they don’t have a reservation to stay and to please abide by the quiet hours rule. The fact that your group is even being allowed to hang around that late makes you wonder just how much money was slipped under the table to cover that cost.

You critically eye the waitstaff still handing out glasses of alcohol. It will be a miracle if there isn’t a single incident resulting in someone getting kicked out, and you know you don’t want to be around when that happens.

After the speech, a video is played on the screens commemorating months’ worth of silly moments and fun memories filmed both during shoots and in the lulls between. You end up laughing along with the others at the antics and bloopers caught on video, and even one of Sun and Moon’s pranks makes it on the screen. It’s a heartwarming stroll down memory lane that is bittersweet and a reminder that the show is nearing its finale.

After the video ends, the executive producer steps down from his stage, once more thanking everyone for their hard work and encouraging them all to finish off the plentiful catering leftovers. The room explodes into applause and some whistles, and you join in with the ones sitting next to you. It’s been a hard journey with many late nights and abysmally early mornings, but you’re close to the end. You’ll miss the familiar people you’ve come to enjoy seeing every day and the kindness of the teams you got to work with. One thing is for certain: Your phone is positively bursting with contacts from many, many people you’ve met just through working on this show. You hope that your future job will connect you with some of them again face to face when all is said and done.

Mind abuzz with thoughts of where you’ll end up next, you whittle away the hours yet again with your favorite company. At one point, Sun hands off his flute of champagne to a passerby with superfluous reassurances that he’s done “absolutely nothing to it!” He doesn’t sound trustworthy at all, but when he gives you a universally austere wink, it becomes obvious he’s just pulling the other person’s leg.

At some point, someone pulls out an honest-to-God Clue board game from who knows where, and you end up on a three-person team with Moon and Sun—much to the chanting of your friends and coworkers—to solve the mystery and take down your competitors. Eclipse pairs with Gregory and an actor who played as one of his goons. Becker, you think his name is.

A mix of people from other departments, from the sound crew to the camera crew to the stunt performers and everyone in between, get involved too, whether it’s to team up or just spectate like this is the greatest new sport. In the end, the result is a truly raucous round that leads to your team’s victory. High fives and gloating abound, but that’s quickly stampeded when you, Moon, and Sun lose the next round. After that, you decide to let other people have a turn, and you mingle with those you haven’t had a chance to chat with in a long while. What makes it an even better experience is that throughout the socializing, you find yourself with a tail or two or three. They let you reach out first—a hand on their backs or elbows—which leads to them returning the favor so that you’re in constant contact with at least one. It doesn’t escape your notice that doing this means you’ll receive more raised eyebrows and probably stir up the pot of gossip.

But unlike before, that thought doesn’t really bother you as much.

You know why.

As the clock ticks closer to midnight, the party dwindles in size. Some depart to go celebrate the new year with family; others leave to follow the call of their beds. You catch one more quick interaction with Ribbon, and they give you a big hug that you return just as tightly. Their little arms threaten to bruise your bones, and it only makes your fondness for them soar. Their parents also bid you goodbye, sharing grateful waves at you, and you watch as they lead their kid to the hotel’s elevator, Ribbon squeezing both their hands and skipping between them.

Not an ounce of tiredness in that one. You wish you had their energy. The studio couldn’t have picked a better vigilante-in-the-making.

Feeling winded yourself, you return to your seat with a drawn-out groan. While you were away, Sun and Moon swapped places. Judging by the delighted tapping of Sun’s fingers on the table and Moon’s unhappy glower, it wasn’t a unanimous decision.

It’s a mere fifteen minutes to midnight now. And that’s when Eclipse returns to his seat and decides it’s high time to throw another curveball your way.

“I have a proposition for you,” he slyly says, which has you simultaneously uneasy and intrigued.

“Oh?” 

“Yes, oh?” Sun parrots, with much more skepticism in his tone.

Eclipse grins wryly. In between one blink and the next, he snaps into view a solid black card between his middle and forefinger. The slender card has no meaning to you, at least not until he flicks it a certain way in the light. The embossed letters reflect the ambient glow just enough to be legible, and that’s when you gasp.

“You’re joking,” you breathe, and Eclipse chuckles.

“What? What am I missing?” Sun looks between you and Eclipse and then at the card, but Eclipse tucks it away just as fast.

You lean back in your seat, stunned.

“This hotel has to be booked solid all through the holiday,” you manage to say. “How on earth did you get a key? Did you book a room months ago?”

The eldest brother is obviously enjoying this, both your and Sun’s reactions, unlike Moon who is slowly becoming one with his chair the further he sinks into it, and you can’t find it in yourself to deprive Eclipse of his moment. You weren’t expecting that at all.

He shakes his head and keeps his voice low, like he’s sharing a secret.

“I don’t know if you’ve met him yet, but there’s a man here who I used to work with on a different set years ago. He’s a cameraman, and the bulk of his work is focused on taking candid pictures to be used for promotion. Back when we first met, we both were still graduating past being  labeled as fresh blood in the industry, so we ended up hitting it off. He’s been a good friend of mine ever since.” Long fingers fold together, and Eclipse props his elbows on the table, shadowed metal almost ominous in the light. “That’s all to say that he was invited to tonight’s party as a plus one because his niece is one of the actresses for this series, and they’re rather close. He chose to book a room at this hotel months ago for the event out of convenience.”

Eclipse leans in closer as excitement in his voice builds, and like an infectious pull, you mirror his movement.

“Here’s where it gets interesting,” he simpers. “I overheard that this place has a pool and bar—more specifically, a rooftop pool and bar. Due to the cold weather, the outdoor half of the pool has been closed for winter, but the indoor half has been kept open. And currently, guests are allowed to use their keycards to enjoy a nice swim and some drinks from ten o’clock in the morning to ten o’clock at night. So naturally, when I expressed my interest in accessing the place, my friend gave me one of his spare keys with the exception that I don’t tell anyone where I got it from.”

You're astounded and can see how Eclipse relishes having such a captive audience.

“Kind of failed on that front already,” Moon tacks on blithely. He feigns disinterest, but his gaze is fixed on you as well, assessing.

You hope he isn’t readying to read you your Miranda rights if you so much as suggest an iota of interest in this.

Eclipse, however, only puffs out a synthetic breath at his little brother.

“Anyone who’s a snitch,” he clarifies.

“So what you’re saying is,” you say, still starry-eyed with wonder, “we can sneak up to the rooftop and watch the fireworks from there?”

“Among other things, yes.”

You pause.

“Other things?”

Eclipse doesn’t answer. But his shifty keek at Sun has you feeling on edge.

“Oh!”

You flinch as Sun violently shoots to his feet, chair scraping behind him, and he is just as wide-eyed as you.

“I’m suddenly fully on board with this plan without any dubious behavior whatsoever.” He holds a hand out to you. “Let’s go do some illicit activities.”

You side-eye Moon. Sun does much the same.

“By which I mean technically not illicit at all,” he hastily adds. He wiggles his fingertips at you. “Coming, doll?”

Your hand reaches for his.

“Nothing dubious, huh?”

Sun gently pulls you out of your seat. The animatronic picks up your coat too and drapes it over your shoulders before you can have time to think about it, and the warmth of your coat extends deeper than it normally would. He takes your hand with a stifled sound that is by definition just plain cute. Suspicious or not, you’ll go wherever he leads as long as it means staying by his side. Clearly, the brothers have something planned, especially since Moon hasn’t made a peep where he normally would about anything remotely smelling of unlawful, and you squirm with your own enthusiasm.

“Here.” Eclipse gives Sun the keycard, and while Sun pockets it, you frown in confusion.

“Wait, aren’t you two coming with us?”

At long last, Moon breaks his silence with a benign grin aimed up at you.

“In a minute, starling. Go on up before I change my mind.”

Eclipse tips his head at the elevators.

“We’ll catch up with you shortly. Sunny wants to share something with you first.”

Said animatronic is trembling like a live wire in his bundle of excitement.

“I hope that isn’t what you mean by illicit,” you snark, and you let Sun steer you out of the room with not a second to spare.

“No, no, you won’t find any sort of recreational things on me. I have clean pockets, promise!”

You almost lose your footing, but the other is quick to catch you.

“Thanks.” You pat him appreciatively. “ Also, I wasn’t thinking you had any dirty pockets there, Sunny. But now that you mentioned it… Hm, I might just need to check for myself and thoroughly investigate.”

You watch in bemusement as Sun repeatedly presses the elevator button to summon it. His head snaps to you with some wily scheme dancing inside, his blatant impatience subconsciously pulling you in so that you have to tilt your head back farther to keep him and his lovely rays in sight.

His inner mechanisms click and whir at your closeness. With the hand not holding yours, he taps you on the nose, making you wrinkle it.

“Let’s not get handsy just yet, dear. We haven’t even discussed marriage.”

That earns him a scoff.

“Then color me surprised, snookums, because it sure seems like we’re eloping.”

You lean your weight against his side, confident that he won’t mind, and Sun lets go of your hand to wrap an arm around your shoulders instead. As you’d suspected, he squeezes you like he plans to imprint you there.

One of the two elevators dings upon its arrival, and the second the doors swish open, Sun hustles you inside. His barely restrained frenetic energy has you snickering, to which he lightheartedly swats you. Once he’s pushed the button for the top floor with more aggressive tapping, he spins back around to give you his full attention. His boundless enthusiasm means a need to channel it somewhere, so it’s no surprise when his fingers continue to busy themselves by beginning to undo one of the buttons of his cuffs to roll his sleeve up to his elbow.

“Trust me, you will know when we’re eloping,” he remarks without thought as he’s focused on his task, neatly tucking away fabric and moving on to the next sleeve.

Oh, he makes it too easy for you sometimes. You brace against the wall while letting a flirtatious smirk emerge. It’s impossible not to tease him a little more, not when you’ve got him trapped like this. 

“When we elope, detective?” you echo smugly, pulling a little of your character to the surface. You can’t help it when he walked right into that one.

Sun doesn’t say anything.

Not in the way you’d expected, however. He doesn’t freeze like it was a Freudian slip of the tongue or react with visible panic. No, he doesn’t utter a single word in the aftermath of that little taunt, but he needn’t do so in the way his eyes speak for himself.

Cerulean blue is piercing in low light, you realize. Unwavering as he doesn’t add anything more to confirm or deny your question. You’re playing a losing game of trying not to focus on the bare metal that is revealed as Sun finishes rolling up both his sleeves. Only a beat more of silence has to pass before you realize that you’re the one who’s prey to the sudden intensity of the solitude from the craziness of the night. It’s just you and Sun now and a weighty stillness in the shadow of what you’d thought was an ignorant exchange. Somehow, that has you more uncentered than probably any comeback he could have returned.

Sun’s not saying anything in defense because he doesn’t intend to deny it.

You swallow. Nothing but the vibration of the elevator and its lighthearted music disturbs whatever tension has begun to form. Not unwelcome or even necessarily uncomfortable. But it is noticeable, and you’re becoming extremely aware of everything in the small space, namely the animatronic who’s taking up most of it right in front of you.

Before the tension can get any thicker, the elevator comes to a halt somewhere in its ascent. You and Sun watch as someone, presumably a hotel guest, steps onto the elevator with you, reaches over, and taps a button for a few floors up.

You were wrong; the tension can get thicker, and it is compressing you.

The ride up is painfully silent, made worse by the fact that for whatever reason, Sun does not stop staring at you. You’re just an arm’s reach shy of being cornered against the wall, and apparently, Sun sees no issue with this and how it might look to the unexpected friend who’s joined the circus.

Hardly ten seconds pass, but it feels like an eternity before the other person’s floor is reached. They exit without a word or a glance in your direction, and that’s exactly how you prefer it. Without looking, Sun reaches over and nudges the button to close the doors. They slide shut, and your ride to the top is continued once more with only one animatronic to fill the space and your vision.

Funnily enough, this is the first chance all night that you really get a good view of his outfit, what with him being so close. Since you’re desperate to latch onto anything else, you concentrate on that instead. To your surprise, what you see has you in tickled disbelief.

Blinking, you nod in his direction and say, “Please tell me those suspenders are from your costume.”

Sun glances down at the thick loops of fabric on his person as if he’s seeing them for the first time. Then his grin flashes back up at you, twinkling.

“Do you like them?”

He already knows the answer, cheeky thing.

“As if you even need to ask.” You ignore how his amused leer makes your skin pleasantly tingly. You are, in fact, ignoring a lot of things that him being so close is doing to you. A shiver runs down your back. Which you also ignore. “What I’m more shocked by is how you and Moon seem to be sneaking off with pieces of your outfits and getting away with it.”

Sun shrugs and brushes imaginary lint off his shirt with a hum.

“I needed something special from my costume to wear tonight since I wanted to dress to impress. It was either wear these or my handcuffs.”

“…I think you and I might have different definitions of how to impress.”

The animatronic sighs heavily.

“Yes, I know I should have gone with the handcuffs instead. But why else am I supposed to wear suspenders if not to seductively slide them off for you one at a time?”

As he says this, he reaches up and hooks a finger underneath one of the straps. His air is nothing short of coy, like an idea has just taken shape in his devious mind, and he slowly eases the fabric across his shoulder, flirting with slipping it over the edge. A curled metal digit suggestively rubs the suspender. It would probably have a much greater effect on you if his little show wasn’t currently being backed by cheery elevator music, and that alone has your lips spasmodically twitching.

Sun gives the impression of waggling his brows, rife with an emotion you refuse to label.

“Are you seduced yet?” he croons.

You’re actually on the verge of hysterics after bouncing from that tense moment to now this highly entertaining version of a strip tease, but you’re doing your damndest to keep down the stunned laughter rattling inside your chest. You purse your lips to hold back the tide and then take a second to compose yourself.

“I don’t remember this scene ever being in the script,” you say instead, keenly aware that the elevator is not soundproof nor private. You suddenly wonder if there is a security camera in here and if some poor staff member is seeing all of this, and you almost burst into a guffaw right there.

Sun taps a coquettish finger like he’s shushing you. He can tell how close you are to losing it, and he has no problem chuckling at whatever face you’re making.

“That’s because it’ll be our little secret behind the scenes,” he chirps.

Before you have time to unpack that little remark, the lilting elevator voice declares you’ve reached your destination. You straighten back up when the doors slide apart, a deep exhale blowing past your lips to calm the fluttering in your chest, but Sun doesn’t move just yet.

His hand extends out to you, palm up. A light request and one you don’t have to ponder at all to accept. You’ve noticed that all of the brothers seem to enjoy holding your hand. That’s good, because you enjoy it too.

As the two of you traipse out onto the floor, you’re struck by an intense smell of chlorine. Your lungs expand with the joyous call of swimming pool water, and it’s a small shame that you don’t have a swimsuit on to take a quick dip.

Sun scouts the area with you at his side. Miraculously, the floor appears entirely vacant and ghostly quiet. Couldn’t be because the pool and bar hours have long since passed. Certainly not. There’s a gym up here too, secured off behind glass walls and an entrance that requires keycard access to get in. But that’s not what you’re here for.

“This way.” You lead Sun down a hallway, trusting your nose. 

He’s quiet still, but his steps are no less eager than yours. You wonder what it is he wants to show you and why he needs to show it up here of all places and what on earth was that moment you shared in the elevator because it certainly felt like something. There’s no denying the thrill you get from sneaking in somewhere that’s technically meant only for actual hotel guests and only during certain hours. It makes you remember being a teenager, getting into trouble or always just dancing outside of it with someone you lo— 

Someone you care about.

As you and Sun peruse the vacant floor, what you’re doing begins to catch up to you. It starts with a giggle from one or both of you—you’re not sure who, but it’s definitely you—like you’re misbehaving children getting into things you shouldn’t. Very quickly from there, the chortles you had tried to suppress from before begin to slip out with Sun not far behind, and you fall into a repetitive pattern of stifling your hitching breaths and hushing each other with no success.

“Sun, you’ve gotta—” you loudly snort and laugh even more. “You’ve gotta stop—”

“Ohoho, I’ve got to stop? Not this barrel of laughs right next to me?” he gibes, his free hand snaking out and poking you in your sensitive stomach.

“H-hey, no! You cut that out right now, mister!”

Sun’s fingers wriggle treacherously, and your squeal bounces off the walls. Another round of shushing does little to quell the jittering butterflies in your stomach that are making your chest heave with half-caught breaths. To your relief, Sun ceases the merciless assault on your ticklish side, but it’s only to then stop in place.

You stop as well when you realize he’s not budging, and you smile a little crookedly over your shoulder at the unreadable way he looks at you.

Standing there in the hall, Sun doesn’t move an inch aside from his rays that twirl in a leisurely circle. His hand is warm in yours, and his focus doesn’t stray to anywhere except you. He takes a long moment to just keep you at his side, quiet and contemplating.

Then, without preamble or any warning, he kindly says, “You have a pretty laugh.”

And wouldn’t you know it, there is now no air conditioning in the room whatsoever because you can feel yourself heating up all over.

“Oh,” you start, openly floundering like a fish out of water. “I’m… Thanks?”

An affectionate huff graces your ears.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, silly. All I mean to say is I enjoy hearing it. Seeing you happy makes me happy.”

Thump-thump.

Seems like all three of the brothers adore leaving you speechless too. You’re aware your mouth is parted, but you don’t even know what to say to that. Sun said it like it was another one of his simple observations he loves to make, like it’s as plain as the weather or the nose on your face. 

Like it wasn’t a tease or anything meant to poke fun. Just mere fact.

The edges of your lips find their way back up your cheeks.

“Then I’m glad to hear that. Because you make me happy too,” you say quietly.

Yellow rays pick up speed.

After a subtle glance around, you add, “Not that I don’t appreciate the really sweet confession, but are there any other pressing things you need to admit right now, or do you mind if we get outside first before your brothers show up? You said there was something you wanted to show me.”

The whites behind his blue pupils catch an opalescent flash of light, like mother of pearl.

“I suppose I can wait to tell you about my outstanding arrest warrant,” he says. “Come along then. We don’t have much time left!”

“Wait, your what now? Sun!”

He tugs you after him, warbling giggles promising he’s up to no good, and that’s all the answer you get from the animatronic. 

Thankfully, you make it down another hall without further incident as the walled-off pool comes into view. It’s surrounded by glass panes just like the gym. The lights are dim inside, signaling that it isn’t open. But that’s hardly a deterrent, and as you near the door that will let you inside, you can see through the room that on the other side of the pool is another door that leads out onto the rooftop.

In one swift swipe, Sun glides the key across the card reader, and the door unlocks with a beep. Like a true gentleman, he proudly opens the door for you. Or rather, he tries to.

You watch him jolt when the door doesn’t swing open. Grunting, he then grinds his heels into the floor and heaves and tries to yank on the door with all his might. The metal and glass obstacle refuses to budge.

Having some pity on him, you calmly say, “Honeybee, it’s push, not pull.”

He pauses. Stares. Gently, he nudges the door in the opposite direction. It swings open wide.

His grin is an even, flat line.

“I knew that.”

“Sure you did.”

Disregarding your mocking tone, he keeps the door propped open with a foot and bows low.

“After you, my dove.”

You shake your head at the endearment and step past him, waiting for him to quietly close the door behind you before you pipe up, voice echoing across the water.

“Are you just throwing out pet names now and seeing what sticks?”

His chassis purrs with his mirth, restlessness keeping him in motion. “I thought about calling you a chicken, but doing so seemed most fowl.”

“A ch— What did you just call me?!” Oh, you’re about to show him just how non-chicken you are, but you then cut yourself off as soon as his joke lands. Blowing out a loud breath, you give Sun the full scope of your unimpressed glower. His optics lift from his joviality.

“That was the worst pun I’ve ever heard.”

“Got you good though, didn’t I? Hmm?”

When he’s like this, very subtly swaying from one foot to the other like he’s listening to some silent tune and his endless delight needs to be used somewhere, you can’t hold onto a frown to save your life. You just can’t.

So you purse your lips and pout as hard as you can to show just how unamused you are. You’re so unamused. It’s almost funny how deep your lack of amusement runs, it’s so unamusing.

Your lips quiver at the edges. Sun sees it.

Without warning, he sidles up to you, humming some unknown tune, and then with his thumb and forefinger, he reaches up and pinches your lips together, making them even flatter.

“On second thought,” he remarks, completely ignoring your indignant, muffled protest, “a chicken or a dove isn’t accurate because what I’m clearly seeing now is a duck.”

He emphasizes his point with a squeeze, making you create the very unwanted impression of a duckbill, and he springs away from your enraged swat and squeak, delight carrying his voice loud across the pool.

“Sun!” you yell, rubbing your smarting mouth. “Don’t run away!”

“No offense, duckling,” he titters as he does the exact opposite of your demand, “but something tells me that would be to my detriment!”

“Yeah, that something is me! Come back here!”

You chase the fleeing animatronic around the pool and to the door leading outside. Sun slams into it first, sprinting out with you fast on his heels. The icy cold temperature shocks you from its severity, but you’re too lost in the chase to give it much thought. Sun skips all the way past the closed bar and outdoor pool, up a small flight of smooth cement stairs, and to an area overlooking the harbor.

Right into a corner.

Seemingly realizing his mistake, he turns back around, but you’re already there, closing in on him. What’s worse is he’s still cackling, and you don’t know how you’re going to get your payback, but you’ll figure it out somehow.

“Hoohoo, you’re looking a little frosty over there,” he says, hands lifting up in a placating motion as you near. “Perhaps this would be a wonderful time to go back inside where it’s nice and toasty!”

“Perhaps not,” you shoot back, ignoring how you’ve lost the war in maintaining a frown. The joy on Sun’s faceplate is just too contagious.

He drops the placating gesture in favor of hooking a finger in his collar and tugging on it like he’s nervous. What a drama queen.

“You know, I heard diplomacy is in currently! Super popular! All the cool cats are trying it, so I think we should give it a shot too to see what’s what.”

You’ve reached him at this point, and your hands land on your hips. “That’s funny to hear, Sunny, since just thirty seconds ago, you didn’t seem all that interested in it.”

The animatronic sputters at your very sound logic. His expression is not at all apologetic while he pulls an excuse out of thin air.

“Change of heart?” he says uncertainly.

“Yeah, how believable.” The desert has nothing on your arid tone. 

You step forward and grasp one of Sun’s bottom rays, one of the few you can actually reach. Though he could very easily withstand your strength, Sun lets you pull him down until he’s eye-level with you. You have some long-winded speech waiting in the wings—pun not intended—about how this “duckling” can meet him step for step in weaponized terms of endearment, and you absolutely will use that to your advantage to drop the most unhinged pet names in front of others when he least expects it.

But then Sun speaks up before you get the chance.

“If we were to, say, hypothetically, continue the trend of listing things that are funny,” he begins, speaking lower now that he’s so close to you, “then I’d like to mention how this little predicament happens to have reminded me of what I wanted to show you.”

Your skepticism is unmatched.

“Does it involve pulling a sudden disappearing act?”

“Goodness, no! That’s the very opposite of what I want because that would mean putting distance between myself and you… little duck.”

Your eyes narrow.

“You’re pushing it.”

“Just moving the goalpost, darling. Let me finish before we run out of time.”

You can’t help cracking up at that, shaking his ray a little so that all of them swing side to side a few degrees.

“What, do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight or something?”

“Excuse you, I’m more akin to a Prince Charming than anything. But that’s beside the point because I have something very important I need to tell you.”

When he says your name then, the silliness ebbing away to make room for something more serious, you perk up, and your smile dims with concern.

But Sun eases away the wrinkles of worry with his thumb, soundlessly cupping your cheek and soothing you in a motion that makes your heart skip. You’ve noticed it doing that a lot lately. He takes the hand that’s listlessly clinging to his ray, curls his long fingers around it, and lifts it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. The wind is slow yet sharp, cutting into your bones. You instinctively huddle into your coat in a vain attempt to preserve some heat.

Sun tuts when you shiver and helps you slide your arms into the sleeves of your coat rather than just keep it around your shoulders.

“I should have brought my jacket up as well so you’d be at least a little warmer. Sorry about that.”

You snatch his hand back, which he gladly accepts.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine with you here. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”

Sun chuffs, shaking his head but minding his rays so that they don’t prod or scrape you. His mouth twitches.

“You’re always so sweet, honeydew. Silly pet names aside, I hope you know that I’m only ever teasing you with them. When I’m not trying to be a romantic, that is, which is actually always, but regardless—”

“Romantic?” you interrupt softly.

This time, Sun’s eyes do widen. His rays pop out wider, and it’s the first time tonight he actually looks rattled.

“Oh! Oh goodness, I did just say that, didn’t I? Not that that isn’t exactly why I brought you up here in the first place, but I had intended to at least drop that particular piece of information with a little more delicateness. I don’t want to go scaring you off so soon before I’ve even had the chance to reach the second bullet point in the speech I’ve rehearsed and scrapped at least a thousand times, and— Oh dear, this isn’t how I’d planned things to go.”

“Sun,” you say as soon as he pauses. His rays begin speeding at your voice, and you resist the sudden desire to close the infinitesimally small space between you. But you do have an inkling of why he brought you up here, why Eclipse and Moon hung back to give you time alone with him.

The math is starting to add up. Surprisingly, even with your rapid fluctuation of heart-pounding excitement, you feel a calmness that reassures you. This is where you’re meant to be, with him.

“Be honest with me,” you request, and Sun nods emphatically. Dork, you think with full affection. You take a deep breath in, hold his gaze and the stars within, and then let your breath out. There’s nowhere else to go, but your feet still try to inch you closer. “Did you bring me up here to kiss me?”

A lull. Out here, it’s a little harder to hear Sun’s mechanisms working overtime, but the fact that you can hear them at all tells you he’s processing quite a bit. That already is a big hint of an answer, but you want to hear him say so yourself.

With an artificial exhale that layers an inexplicable tenderness, he says, “Well, it wasn’t an expectation, but I certainly would be lying if I said I wouldn’t like that. More than that, though, I just wanted to confess how I feel about you and go from there. But I suppose I am that transparent, aren’t I?”

Your cheeks are stretching again from your happiness.

“Don’t feel too bad. It took me until a certain conversation with Eclipse a few weeks ago to realize any of you had feelings for me.”

Another puff, this one exasperated.

“Yes, I'm aware. Honestly, we all thought we weren’t being subtle in the slightest. Even our coworkers noticed, dear.”

You wince and protest, “Okay, well, I thought they were just joking around! You can’t blame me for that. Especially since I thought you all were just playing too.”

“Which remains a mystery to me! I even asked you months ago if you wanted to practice kissing so that we could get it right during filming.”

Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens once more.

The moment he’s referring to is vivid in your memory, only because you’ve thought about it more times than you’d like to admit and had just sadly written it off as Sun being his usual playful self. Yes, he was flirting, but you hadn’t thought he was flirting-flirting. Just that it was the usual game you all play. But still… months ago? Just how long have these three been trying to get your attention?

“You were flirting with me then?” you say quizzically.

Sun chuckles, and one of his arms winds around your waist. He holds you like the daintiest flower, and even you feel a flash of embarrassment over just how much you like that.

“As I said, a mystery. But like any good sleuth, I have a feeling that with your help, we can put our heads together and solve this case.”

You brighten immediately. There he is.

“Ah, I see,” you play along. “Taking inspiration from a certain show, hm? So what are your deductions, Detective Sun?”

“I’m so glad you asked! Because I have quite a few, but for the sake of time and the fact that the fireworks are soon to start, I’ll give you the cliff notes version and do away with any alleged speech, rehearsed or not.”

His palm is so warm around your cheek, hiding you from the cold as much as he can. You hardly even notice it when he’s embracing you like this. Your eyes search his, your entire being ready to latch onto his every word to lock it inside your heart and never let it go.

In the strongest sincerity you’ve ever heard from him, he says, unspeakably gently, “I like you. Not just as a friend, though you are without a doubt one of the best and closest I’ve ever had. I like you in the sense that I have fallen for you. Complete head over heels, tumbling-down-the-staircase kind of mess. I'm absolutely sure you know that by now, but if you don’t, I am not above paying to have it written in the sky so that it gets through your thick but lovable head.” His warning comes with a wagging finger, and you snort despite the unexpected mistiness creeping behind your eyelids again when you blink.

Sun’s fake glower softens to an incandescent warmth, pulling you in like a flower.

“The point is, I want to pursue this feeling with you, as do my brothers. I’m sure they’ve already told you. Heaven knows if I have to listen to Moon brag for another minute about getting a kiss from you tonight, I will lose my sanity. But I also heard from a little birdie that my brothers requested a little, hmm, how did they put it? A head start on the new year?”

You bite your lip. His scrutiny falls lower, and your uneven breath is a cloud of white smoke between you and him.

“Something like that,” you softly say.

Sun’s servos whistle a delighted song.

“I hope you’ll excuse me for being so bold because I’m about to be like that regardless,” he says, “but it sounds like they didn’t do the tradition properly at all. They seem to have missed one very crucial factor, and I think you know exactly what I mean. So with that in mind, precious, may I steal a kiss from you to make sure it’s done right?”

After a confession like that? You wind your arms around his neck, lips parting, blood pounding in your ears. He needn’t have even asked.

It takes a moment to find your voice, but you make sure it reaches him even as a whisper.

“As long as you promise to give it back.” Your fingers toy with the back of his silk tie.

You don’t mistake the way his arms tremble like he’s afraid to hold you any tighter. 

His words fall on a cadence weighted down by obvious want.

“If that’s the price for stealing such a lovely treasure,” he respires synthetically, “then I might just have to pay it over and over again.”

In the next second, his mouth finds yours, pressing headily to your lips and threatening to consume you whole. You gasp against him, clinging to the back of his shirt needily while his hand crawls to the back of your head and cups it in a gentle hold so that he can better angle the kiss. His arm doesn’t constrict your waist, but he keeps you there with the assuredness that he doesn’t want to let you go, and his deep groan at your insistence to hold him even tighter makes you lightheaded.

The snowing has stopped, and the temperature has continued to only drop, but you couldn’t feel hotter. The flame inside of you bursts to life with a rush of a powerful emotion that would have once scared you away. Now you only tiptoe around it, not ready to reveal it yet but knowing that it is there, waiting and growing steadily every moment you spend with Sun and his brothers. 

You tilt your head with a ragged exhale while Sun twines some of your hair between his fingers, not yanking but prompting a delicious tension that sends a wonderful pleasure through your skull. You’re shivering again, and it’s all his doing.

He writes intimacy and sentiment on your lips with his teeth, capturing every micro-breath you try to take, and still you try to press closer to him. He breaks the kiss for a split second that allows you all of one heightened inhale before he’s stealing that too, and you’re burning together in an addictive passion that you never want to unlearn. For as long as he’ll allow it, you want to know only the smooth curve of his mouth and the hot metal of his chassis that is flush with your chest and the distracting digits dragging along the back of your head and the protective line of his arm that coils around your waist with an equally firm hand securing you there.

That’s all you need to know in the moment.

When Sun parts from you, moving away first because he probably correctly guessed that you’d keep kissing him until you passed out, his eyes slip open halfway, and his grin is askew like he’s swooning. You’re sure you have a similar goofy look too, concealed just barely by the clouds of white that spill out along every exhale while your lungs hurt delightfully. The cold snap strengthens when yellow rays spin at such a fast pace, they’re almost invisible.

The world is near-silent up here, city activity sounding so far away that it doesn’t disturb this perfect peace you’ve found. You don’t want to break the quiet and risk it all being a figment of your imagination once more. So you watch in wonder at how Sun peers at you intently, like he’s fascinated by whatever sight you make.

He braves cutting the silence first, albeit with a far-from-intrusive volume.

“Hmm, how was that? Do you think we got it right, or should we try again?”

You exhale long and slow. The white cloud of air billows.

“I don’t see how it could possibly be more perfect than that.” You adore the way Sun melts at your admission. “At this point, I’m just waiting to wake up.”

The solar animatronic pauses. His rays twist again, back and forth as if in uncertainty.

“From a dream or a nightmare?” he presses.

“A dream, silly.” You fondly shake your head. “Just seems like I’ve been imagining having this for so long, it doesn’t feel real. You, Moon, and Eclipse. I’m worried I’ll blink and be back in my own bed again, alone.”

The hand at your side taps a little rhythm. Sun’s nervousness vanishes as quick as a spring shower.

“I’m afraid to break the news to you,” he says, “but if those are the dreams you’re having, I won’t be waking you up anytime soon.”

You receive a quick kiss on the nose, which makes you twitch and Sun coo at that. You get him back with a kiss to the corner of his teeth. His wavering thrum of pleasure draws out until it morphs into a frustrated groan.

It’s your turn for concern.

“What’s wrong?”

Sun grunts, “Nothing, nothing. Just reminded that I am sadly not an only child.”

“What?”

He inclines his head at something behind you, and you turn in his arms to see what he’s looking at, much to his disheartened whine.

Just beyond the pool room next to the glass door that requires a key to enter, Moon stands there in the hallway, pressed to the glass and a dead grin on his face. His red pupils nearly take up the entirety of his optics. Eclipse is not too far off, but he’s at least giving you some sense of privacy by not staring your way.

Moon gives you a little wave.

You turn back to Sun.

“You know those videos people post of their pets watching them from the window?”

Sun releases a loud, rumbling hiss of static amusement.

“Oh, don’t let them hear you say that. I’m pretty sure at least one of those two in there bites.”

“But not you?” you quip, elbowing him.

Blue flickers against white.

“Only if you ask me to.”

Right then. Probably should have seen that one coming from a mile away. 

“Raincheck,” you deflect. “Let’s let the others out first before they miss the fireworks.”

Sun dramatically releases you with a disappointed flair fitting for the stage, but he does as you request.

“I’ll go get the door. You wait right there, precious.”

You watch him skitter over back around the outdoor pool, through the door into the pool room, and then over to the door where his brothers wait. As soon as he tries to open it, a strange sort of tug of war begins where Sun attempts to pull one way, and Moon pulls just as hard on the other side. Judging by his expression, he’s doing it just for the sake of being a brat. The two engage in some back and forth, and though you can’t hear them, you can see Sun’s annoyance and Moon’s pure delight. It’s broken up finally by Eclipse grabbing the back of Moon’s coat and lifting him up like he’s scruffing a cat. Moon doesn’t even put up a fight, seemingly appeased that he sufficiently got under his other brother’s wires.

Once Eclipse sets him back down, Sun opens the door, and the three of them traipse through the pool room to the rooftop exit.

“I should have just left you in there!” Sun is saying as he throws open the door with a harrumph. “Honestly, you’re just so unnecessarily much sometimes!”

“Worth it,” Moon returns, unaffected by his sibling’s agitation. He lights up when he spies you.

“Moonie,” you tease as he approaches, “are you annoying your brother again on purpose?”

“No,” Moon says at the same time Sun gives an annoyed “yes.”

“It’s sibling tax,” he clarifies, coming to a stop next to you.

You tsk.

“I’d be careful if I were you. That sibling tax might come at a cost if Sun decides to do something like throw your hat off the building.”

You’ve barely finished the sentence before dark blue and silver digits are slamming onto the brim of Moon’s hat. He sends a dirty scowl at his brother who’s more than intrigued at the prospect by the sounds of it.

His voice is gruff and disapproving at you.

“Don’t give him ideas.”

Sun snips back, “Don’t be a varmint then.”

While the bickering continues, you find yourself mouthing varmint in confusion at Eclipse. He just shakes his head, equally bemused.

“Three minutes to midnight,” he announces over the sounds of ill-timed threats, probably to redirect his brothers’ focus.

You face the harbor. Sun stands sullenly at your side, and you startle in initial surprise when two arms slide over your shoulders from behind and loosely cross your chest. You sag against Eclipse, idly reaching up to rub one of his wrists as the approaching hour and year looms before you. It’s crazy to you how in such a short amount of time, you’ve grown so comfortable with the celestial brothers. Like something you’ve come to expect and especially welcome. The meaning and intent behind that comfort is the only part that’s shifted, and the change is one that leaves you undeniably giddy.

You’ve celebrated New Year’s Eve before, but never like this. Not with people who mean the world to you in ways you can’t even describe. It’s an entirely new course of life that you’re about to start with them, tentatively exploring this uncharted territory together, and the thought stirs up your curiosity.

What lies ahead? Not just relationship-wise, though that’s something you doubt you could really fathom with all the nuances you will surely find. The unknowing surrounding it actually gives you some relief. You don’t have to stress over and evaluate your every move. Whatever happens with them—with Sun, Moon, and Eclipse—will happen naturally. It’s cause for excitement, which has you shivering from more than just the cold now.

But you find your mind drifting to what will come after this show is finished. You’ve gotten so used to being with them at most hours of the day because you work together. What will it be like afterwards when the time you have with them will be reserved for coming home to a full apartment and making new memories in a much more intimate setting? Where will their talent take them next?

Before you can second-guess yourself, you broach the topic.

“Earlier tonight, I asked you what you’re doing after this,” you say, feeling the heavy weight of the attention from all three. You wet your dry lips. “And Moon was too busy being a gremlin to let me get a straight answer.”

The corners of Moon’s mouth scrunch up, but he doesn’t interrupt you.

“What I really meant back there was… what are you guys going to do after our show is over? Do you have any gigs lined up?”

“Not quite.” Sun clasps his hands together. “But our agent did tip us about a possible dual leviathan role that myself and Moon might consider. It’d mean a lot of CGI, but we would get to wear those funky motion capture suits with the little dots all over them! So who knows. We might just end up trying out for that.”

Your lips quirk in bemusement as you try to imagine it.

“Don’t you need to be, I don’t know, swimming in order to act out a big, scary leviathan?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Moon dismisses, and he leans back against the rooftop balcony. The gentle crimson glow when he studies you is like dying stars in this low light. “If anything, it will be a chance to challenge ourselves in not using our voices as much unless they decide to make the leviathans capable of speech. What Sun said does have its appeal, and we’d probably get to experience some wire acrobatics. But I also think we’d have fun trying our hands at something spooky. Maybe with cryptids or familiars or lifeguards. We’re great at being scary, you know.”

Your face wrinkles.

“One of those is not like the others.” 

“You just haven’t seen me acting as a demon yet.”

“I see you act like that every day,” you say evenly to the tune of Sun’s and Eclipse’s ensuing chortles and Moon’s sharp squint. “Wouldn’t really call that one the outlier of the ideas you suggested.”

“Whatever the case, Clip hasn’t decided where he’ll go next either,” Sun adds, earning a noise of agreement from the animatronic behind you. “I heard there might be potential for a third role in the leviathan storyline, but it would be a prequel of sorts. Curious how they’re planning on pulling that one off.”

“They really do plan ahead, huh?” You tap a finger on your arm, and your gaze is pulled to the winter night sky once more. It is so beautiful up here.

“And what about you?” Eclipse chimes next. “Where will you go after this?”

A hum stirs from your throat.

You’re not sure yet. There is a realm of possibilities stretching out before you. The time to contact your acting agent is nearing, and you feel a strong curl of melancholy at the show you’ve put your heart and soul into coming to its end. It’s been a wild ride, and the memories you’ve gained from your experiences will follow you long after you’ve parted ways with the show. But as Sun said, who knows? Maybe one day you’ll find yourself slipping back into your vigilante costume again and playing a game of chase with a pair of handsome detectives.

You look to your boys, standing with you in the cold and enjoying the seclusion from the rest of the city. 

“I haven’t quite figured that out yet,” you answer truthfully. You reach out, and without hesitation, Sun and Moon each take your offered hands, one after the other, large metal joints protecting your fragile fingers from the bitter chill. “But no matter where I end up, I’m sure that it won’t be the same without working next to you.”

Sun holds you tighter.

“True, it will be impossible to ever replace the amazing cohorts that we were. But that’s why you’ve got us to come home to now, yes?”

His happy expression reflects back onto you. He’s right. You have a lot to explore now, don’t you? And it all starts with them.

“Yeah. I shouldn’t worry about the future now. After all, I’ve only got two hands.”

Moon’s optics gleam dangerously with his ever-present grin.

“Don’t forget your third one,” he says, nodding surreptitiously behind you.

You start to turn, but before you can, Eclipse’s voice grazes your ear.

“Oh, they won’t.”

Cold metal just barely singes you as a large hand brushes under your chin and tilts your head up until you can see him hovering over you. His eyes are flames in the dark, shining upon you with the intensity of a celestial body. His rays have begun to whirl, and you think it might be because of the wind because it sorely reminds you of a pinwheel, and you have to choke back a laugh. It’s not hard to do when his fingertips caress your skin, snaring your focus and dragging a plume of air past your lips.

“No,” you agree warmly. “I won’t.”

Your inhale stutters right back out when the animatronic stoops down low enough to press a kiss to your forehead before letting your chin go. The sound of a piercing whistle and thunderous boom retrieves your attention, bringing it to the harbor as the first crackles of color light up the night.

The ensuing display is breathtaking. The subtle smell of smoke from the fireworks catches on the wind and carries over to your group as you watch in awe the dawning of a new year. It’s heralded by sparks of intricate designs and blooms that make you squeeze the hands you’re holding on to, savoring the twin pulses you receive in turn. The presence at your back is a solid wall shielding you from the cold as much as possible, heavy arms a comfort that drape loosely around your front.

As you enjoy the fireworks with Moon, Eclipse, and Sun, you can’t help but smirk at what your beloved vigilante would have to say to this. No doubt they’d believe it to be some fever dream, and honestly, up until tonight, you’d thought the same. You’re certain that the smooth operative nature of the brothers’ teamwork to subdue your heart is almost identical to a parallel universe of a different era and a different story—one you can imagine as surely as the ringing of bells in your hair.

Just, you know. Under very different circumstances and outcomes.

For the next half hour, you relish the colorful nighttime display with your boys, all the way up to and through the grand finale. By the time the show ends, you are shaking from the cold, but it’s worth it for the special moment you get to share with them. Everything melds together in a joyous night that follows you all the way back home with the three animatronics whom you adore. Perhaps one day, you might even have the courage to confess that you love them, even though you have a strong suspicion they already know that, confession or no. It’s a comfort to know that just like with everything else, they’ll wait for you first.

But that’s a story for another time.

#eclipse x reader #sun x reader #moon x reader #daycare attendant x reader #sleuth jesters actor au #fnaf sb #writing tag #hope you all enjoy sweet and kind Eclipse while he lasts #because after this I'm jumping back into the other AU where he lives and makes it everyone's problem lol

[imagine-darksiders]

Fish Out of Water

Five Nights at Freddy’s - Security Breach

Daycare Attendant X Reader

Giant mer au. 

Summary: What you're looking at is...

Well, quite frankly, it's impossible.

There's a face hanging above you, Lovecraftian in proportion – taller and wider than you are long, with features about as adjacent to a human's as one could possibly get.

For the first few seconds, you remain frozen to your spot, unblinking, half expecting the grinning visage to fade away as sobriety takes you back into its safe, sense-making embrace.A pair of milky, white eyes peer down at you, hanging in the expanse of yellowing skin, like twin pools of alabaster paint.

 You'd hesitate to even call them eyes, but then, the damn things b l i n k.

Tags/Warnings: Mermay 2022, Giant Mermen, Amputee Reader, Amputation, Medical Trauma, Depression, Grief and Mourning, Ableism, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Minor Character Death, Car Accidents, G/T, Giant/Tiny, Explicit Language, Loss of Leg, Mental Health Issues

----

It still hurts sometimes. The leg.

Well, what constitutes for the echo of a leg.

'Phantom limb pain,' your physician informed you, 'Unsettling to be sure, but common and usually harmless.'

Harmless. You vividly recall tasting the bile on your tongue, and how you'd barely managed to withhold a bitter scoff as you sat there in that green, plastic chair whilst the spot below your right hipbone pinched and twisted around the ghosts of nerves that used to occupy the now empty space.

Physiotherapy was... disheartening.

Things you once took for granted, like standing up, suddenly became insurmountable tasks in their own right.

As the weeks dragged by, you acclimatised to the basic, clunky prosthetic limb provided to you by the hospital, and the whole while, your bitterness only grew until at last, after twelve, gruelling weeks fraught with despair, rage and terrible, numbing apathy, you were discharged from physio and hobbled right into a veritable slew of legal procedures.

Your paternal aunt had driven you back to the big, empty house on the outskirts of your home town - the house that had belonged to your parents not four, short months ago.

After just a few meetings with their solicitor and a signature or two... or three... the house was promptly handed over to you, along with a generous chunk of their estate.

A leg wasn't the only thing that drunk driver took from you on that warm, summer evening...

Still, you held no ill-will for the poor bastard. In the end, he too had paid the ultimate price.

You heard his funeral was a lonely affair.

The one you managed to put together for your parents was about as fine as you could make it.

Closed-casket, despite best efforts from the morticians. You don't think your mother would have wanted people to see her when she wasn't at her best, after all.

The hall was filled with businessmen and opportunists alike – former clients of your father's – all attending under the guise of 'friends,' and all terribly interested to know what the young heiress plans to do with the family business now that dear, old mum and dad have shuffled off this mortal coil.

The only real family who came was your Aunt, Lucy.

God bless her stamina, she had fielded the untimely questions in your stead. You were quiet for the most part, read a few words here and there, nothing particularly moving, but judging by the amount of people not-so-subtly checking the time on their Rolexes, short and sweet was probably the favourable route to go down.

In the months that followed, you underwent a metamorphosis of sorts, swiftly shifting from socialite to recluse.

Predominantly, it was the comments that rattled you; words whispered around corners after you hobbled by on your crutches, or murmurs you caught wind of over in the next aisle at the supermarket by gossipers who thought that a missing leg somehow equated to terrible hearing.

'Poor dear,' you heard on the daily.

'Such a shame.'

'Glad that wasn't me though...'

But perhaps the worst? 'Used to be quite the catch. All that money. But who wants to look after that for the rest of their life, eh?'

'Could hire a carer for her?'

Suddenly, you'd turned from a promising, young asset to everyone's missed opportunity.

Your parents lives had revolved around money. Their friends' lives revolved around money.

The revelation that in the eyes of the people, your value had decreased significantly with the loss of your leg was a laughable bagatelle... Until it wasn't. Until the remarks came too frequently and for too long. That stiff upper lip you'd inherited from your mother slowly began to wobble, and the walls your father had taught you to build were slowly chipping away, brick by brick. With every pitying glance, every morning that you woke up and peeled back the covers, every time you failed to distribute your weight properly and ended up taking a spill on a crowded street, you withdrew further and further into yourself, into the house, into the wine cellar.

Bitter and festering in a miasma of grief, you helped yourself to the reserves, down there in the dark with nobody but the spiders for company.

A bottle of 1959 Dom Perignon? Hideous aftertaste, but it helped with that phantom pain in your leg and the one in your heart.

And that was your wretched, little life, for several months following the end of your physiotherapy.

Eventually though, as is often the case with wittering aunts who don't know how to mind their own business, Lucy staged a one-woman intervention, all but hauling you out of the house by the arm and dumping you unceremoniously into her Aston. Damnable woman was a personal trainer. And a bloody good one at that. But it wasn't an exercise regime that was on her agenda for you.

“Darling, it's like watching a scorpion sting itself to death!” she exclaimed in that dramatic way that glamorous aunts often do, her scarf flying about in the wind as she sped aimlessly down the country lanes with the roof of the car retracted, “Of all my nieces and nephews, you always were my favourite.”

A bold-faced lie, but you'd appreciated her effort at the time.

“But you're ever so sensitive too, dear!”

Sensitive. A codeword used to describe the outcast who took more of an interest in artistic pursuits than seek to follow in the family business or other entrepreneurial exploits.

“It's a charming little cottage, your grandfather used to frequent with the gents from his fishing days.”

You realised right then and there what she was about to suggest. But you didn't offer up any protest. Not that there'd be much point. Your aunt had inherited the bullheadedness of her own mother, and once her mind is made up, there's little that can sway her focus, short of a chemical explosion.

“You know, Karen Blixen wasn't far off the mark when she wrote-”

“-The Deluge at Norderney,” you'd finished in a mutter, watching the neatly-trimmed verges flash by, there and gone in a moment...

“Well remembered!”

How could you possibly forget it? Any time Aunt Lucy heard of an ailment in the family, she'd come around, armed not with a packet of paracetamol or a cold compress, but with her favourite quote.

A pause ensued, and then the line you anticipated fell off her painted lips. “I know a cure for everything: Salt water.”

You had to endure her expectant gaze burning into you from the corner of her eye until you'd sighed, resigned yourself to your fate, and played along. “Salt water?”

Her response was instantaneous. “Yes! In one way or the other. Sweat, tears, or the salt sea.”

She'd half turned to peer over at you then, her fathomless eyes hidden behind those cat-eye sunglasses she always wore, even in the dead of winter when the sun was just a distant memory. You'd clenched your hands into the leather seats, hating that her focus wasn't on the road. Hating the whole car ride in general, really.

“I think.. a bit of time away by the sea would do you some real good, my dear.”

'But what good could an ocean do?' you wondered in dismissive silence. Certainly, it's true that the salt can help dry out cuts and abrasions and help the skin's tissue grow more effectively, but can it raise the dead? Can the properties of the sea rebuild a broken body, if not a broken soul? What almighty magic could the ocean offer someone for whom magic has been dead for a long, long time?

But then... what could you have possibly done in the way of protesting your Aunt's suggestion?

It was nigh impossible to win an argument against Aunt Lucy, even when you were at your most spirited. What hope did you have then, to argue against her with half your wit intact and a dark cloud hanging over you like smog from a factory's chimney?

“All right, Auntie,” you'd conceded, because to say 'No,' would be less sensible than waving a red flag in the face of a charging bull.

At last, her eyes had returned to the road and you relaxed minutely in the seat.

“Splendid, darling! Splendid! Oh, Daddy would be so happy to see the old place lived in again.”

The look of triumph on her face had eased some of your reservations. She liked to help, even if she did employ the battering-ram approach a little too often.

“I'll take you back to the house-”

You wager she'd have just kept driving until you agreed with her either way.

“-Derek can drive you down to the coast. He's been meaning to take the old Ghost out for a nice, long burn...”

Ah, Derek – the latest accessory that Lucy tended to dangle off her arm like a shiny bauble.

Volunteered for chauffeur duty, he'd pulled up into the driveway of your house just two days later in his pristine, white Royce.

And with a backpack stuffed with a few changes of clothes, your sketchbook and watercolours and of course, your clunky prosthetic, you'd settled tentatively in the passenger seat, offered him a polite word of thanks, and began your journey to the sea.

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

There are scarce few things in nature, you reason, that come quite so close to rivalling the splendour of a sunset over water.

You're perched precariously upon the precipice of a tall, chalk cliff, barely a hundred paces or so from the back door of your grandfather's rundown, ramshackle cottage that could use a coat or two of fresh paint to liven it up... maybe a fumigation... an exorcism...

Your legs – 'leg,' you remind yourself sharply – dangles over the edge of the cliff, heel kicking idly against the soft chalk beneath you.

Way down below, the sea swells and retreats gently from the rocks, back and forth and back and forth, wave followed by wave followed by wave.

'Aunt Lucy was right,' you huff with begrudging fondness. The bucolic sight is soothing, to a degree.

But there's only so much a nice view can do to relax the mind.

“God, that's pretty,” you drawl aloud to nobody but the open air before taking a long swig from the beer clutched in your hand. Three empty bottles are strewn about in the grass somewhere behind you whereas to your right, the prosthetic leg sits, unattached but constantly in your peripheral vision like a detested symbol of your missing piece – never coming close to the real thing, but trying its best to mimic a functioning limb.

You don't even notice that you've curled your lips into a sneer until the false is in your free hand and you're glowering hatefully down at the ugly, clumsy thing.

You couldn't really say what possessed you to start talking to it. If your parents were here, they'd roll their eyes and tell you to stop behaving like a child. They used to say similar things if they overheard you talking to your toys when you were very small.

'Only people who don't have any friends talk to inanimate objects,' your mother announced one day, peering down her nose at you, 'For goodness sake, don't let anyone hear you. People will think you're simple.'

You've kept your promise, at least. Even now, there's nobody around to hear you grumble matter-of-factly at your own, replacement leg.

“Everyone stares at you, you know.”

The leg, of course, doesn't respond.

“Tch.” Scoffing, you bring the beer to your lips again and grimace at the taste. “It's probably because they know you're just gonna break down in a couple of months, anyway. Then, they'll toss you in the landfill with all the... the other useless junk...”

In your misty haze, you'd swear that hateful leg gives you a condescending look.

“Fuck. You,” you seethe venomously, soft as a whisper but quivering like a leaf in gale-force winds.

It's perhaps the first show of real, raw emotion you've released since the funeral.

Fitting then, that it's here, when you're finally, truly alone, nobody but screaming gulls for company that you feel safe enough to let the proverbial walls come crashing down to the ground. The first flood of tears are a surprise and if it weren't for the way your vision blurs and warps, you'd accredit the moisture on your face to the waves that hurl sea-spray against the rocks far below you.

There are no silent stares out here, nor briefly stolen glances or excessive sympathy from well-meaning do-gooders.

Cheap beer from a petrol station mixed with grief and an unhealthy dose of repressed animosity for your situation make for one hell of an emotional cocktail.

Reeling the prosthetic leg back over your head, you turn to face the golden sunset, pinks bleeding like watercolour into reds and yellows as if some, great artist brought out his paints and decided to create a fleeting masterpiece that will only disappear in a few, short hours.

Then, with a shout borne of alcohol-driven acrimony, you thoughtlessly pitch the false leg forwards, hurling it clear over the side of the cliff and watching it soar through the air for several, glorious moments before inevitably, gravity does its job and the prosthetic begins to descend, down, down and down again, all the way to the ocean.

'.... Plop.'

… The resulting splash is wildly unsatisfactory.

Whatever catharsis you hoped to gain from ridding yourself of the embodiment of your disability doesn't come. In its place, you feel the telltale pang of regret shoot through your stomach, growing more acidic after you recall leaving your crutches back at the cottage...

“... You. Idiot!” you reprimand yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose and exhaling roughly through it.

The grass comes up to meet you as you flop over backwards with a heavy thud and fling an arm across your eyes, allowing the tears to spill from their confines and ooze in tiny rivulets down your cheeks and into your hair.

The beer bottles lay forgotten at the side of your head.

For several minutes, you content yourself to simply lay here on the cliff's perilous edge, knowing that eventually, you're going to have to drag yourself back up the dirt path on your belly, all the way to your grandfather's cottage where you'll need to make arrangements for a new prosthetic, not to mention compensate the hospital for the one you've just chucked into the sea like a toddler throwing her toys out of the pram.

Maybe your parents were right.

Maybe it is high time you grew up...

Sealing your eyes tightly shut, as if that would stop the tears from spilling, you remove your arm and stare up at the insides of your eyelids instead.

You could have sworn you'd already hit rock bottom when you woke up in the hospital bed to the news that your parents hadn't survived the crash, only to instantly learn that you'd lost a leg as well.

But somehow, this moment feels slightly more apt for the term.

Alone, misshapen, friendless and an orphan to boot, drinking beers and projecting onto a plastic leg?

This is bedrock. And it's your own, damn hand that's wrapped around the shovel that brought you here.

Way down below you, there's the sound of a particularly large wave crashing against the rocks. A few moments pass by in blissful solitude before the meagre light permeating your eyelids dims considerably.

You wonder, briefly, if the sun has at last dipped low enough on the horizon to bring about the coming night, or perhaps a cloud has simply moved in front of it.

The whispering wind sighs in your ears and whisks away your hitching breaths.

You ought to have known that peace is a fleeting thing, much like a sunset.

All of a sudden, you're jolted to attention by a loud clatter on your right that pulls a gasp from your lips and you fling your head sideways and lurch upright, eyes peeling open to land upon -

“What.. in the world?”

Reaching out with a shaky hand, you run the tips of your fingers along the hard, plastic casing of your very own, runaway prosthetic.

But... didn't you just...?

You cast a bewildered glance at the beer bottles nearby. Three utterly dry, one only half empty, spilling what remains of its contents into the soil.

… Right then and there, you absolve that alcohol probably isn't a healthy coping mechanism.

Still, at least now you don't have to drag yourself back to the cottage.

You aren't prepared to feel and hear the ground shudder underneath you, nor for the sky to tear asunder as if a growl of thunder had just boomed overhead.

“What the... Hell-!?” Your words die on the tip of your tongue as you finally decide to look up, and up, and further up still, until your neck is craned all the way back and your mouth drops open, incapable of stringing together a single, coherent sentence.

What you're looking at is...

Well, quite frankly, it's impossible.

There's a face hanging above you, Lovecraftian in proportion – taller and wider than you are long, with features about as adjacent to a human's as one could possibly get.

For the first few seconds, you remain frozen to your spot, unblinking, half expecting the grinning visage to fade away as sobriety takes you back into its safe, sense-making embrace.

A pair of milk-white eyes peer down at you, hanging in the expanse of pale, yellow skin, like twin pools of alabaster paint. You'd hesitate to even call them eyes, but then, the damn things blink.

Snapped back into your more sensible instincts, you recoil in horror as filmy eyelids sweep horizontally across the beast's sclera, serving as sobering proof that the thing you're staring at is indeed alive.

Throwing out your hands, you begin to scrabble backwards over the grass, kicking uselessly with one leg and at last, you suck down a lungful of air and unleash a scream so piercing, the gigantic face flinches back.

With the distance inadvertently created, you become all too cognizant of the fact that whatever this is, it is so much more than just a disembodied face.

Frantic, you catch a glimpse of its mouth that opens like a fissure splitting across barren ground, stretching impossibly wide until each corner nears the very edge of its round, flat visage.

Perhaps it should have come as a relief to you that in the place of nightmarish fangs as you expected, there instead sit a solid line of bristly, baleen plates, not unlike those you'd see in the mouth of a humpback or a bowhead. But a lack of conventional teeth does absolutely nothing to soothe the abject terror threatening to drown you under its icy waters.

“Ho-ohly shit!” is all you can muster, briefly giving up the mad, backwards scramble in favour of trying to get your legs underneath you, forgetting for one, crucial moment, that you have to stop referring to your legs in the plural...

You're too busy staring agog at the slender, sinewy torso rising up from beyond the edge of the cliff to realise that while one foot plants firmly on the grass, the other cannot, and as you attempt to heave yourself upright, you place far too much weight in the wrong hip and end up toppling over onto your side with a grunt of pain.

All at once, the sounds rumbling out of the behemoth raise in pitch. You peel your squinted eyes open again, only to shriek when you see the gargantuan mountain of an entity looming down towards you, that wide, terrible mouth emitting a long string of clicks and clucks that reverberate deep inside your chest.

Pointed, prehensile fins encircle its head and flop backwards to lay flat against its skull at the sound of your scream as the behemoth draws closer – too close for your liking.

“No! Stop! Get AWAY!” you yelp, torn between flight, fight and freeze.

What the Hell kind of cosmic being saw fit to end your life in such an unorthodox manner? It hardly seems fair.

You came out here to escape your troubles, not find newer, bigger ones.

'Nothing ever happens in that lazy corner of the country,' your aunts words cheerfully resound in your ear.

'Auntie...' You send her a quick and spiteful thought. 'You've got a really fucked up idea of nothing!'

Something huge, soft and wet prods at your intact calf and you let out another, desperate bleat, rolling instinctively onto your stomach and bringing your arms up to protect the back of your neck. Futile, perhaps, but this situation is hardly one that wildlife experts cover in their autobiographies.

Keeping the top of your spine covered against jaws that size seems fruitless in retrospect, but it's all you can think to do.

You aren't sure what's worse though - Having to keep the beast in your line of sight or not being able to see what's coming.

Cheek pressed uncomfortably to the grass, you crack open one eye and risk a glance up and behind you, only to instantly wish you hadn't.

Whatever the Hell you've come across seems to be fixated on your remaining leg, which is coincidentally the moment you discover that it has hands.

Four fingers and a thumb on each – eerily like that of a human's – but interspersed by a vibrant, orange membrane.

A webbed hand.

... Definitely aquatic then.

One of its appendages thumps resoundingly on the ground ahead of you whilst the other hovers curiously above your leg. Then, a single forefinger that looks to be even longer than you are extends forwards, nudging gently against your exposed limb, eliciting a flinch and a whimper from you in kind.

'What are you doing?' you pose to it in your mind, 'Checking how lean the meat is?! Go. Away!'

Rather than adhere to your pitifully shrill, internal demand, the creature brings its face in close again, causing sea water to drop from its fins and sprinkle down all over you like a rain shower.

With your heart in your throat, you watch it study your leg for another, arduous minute.

Then, the quiet is dashed like waves on the cliff face when its monumental, blank-eyed stare swings around to lock with your gaze, its mouth splitting into a fluttery, but unmistakable grin.

The sight steals what's left of the air in your lungs.

'It's smiling? How is it smiling?' Smiling would have to mean it's feeling an emotion of some kind. But... what if this isn't a smile? What if this is merely how the creature bares its teeth?

Without so much as a lick of warning, the beast suddenly leans down, parting its mouth with a warble that only prompts a far less sonorous cry to leap clumsily off your lips.

You fly into motion just a second too late, dragging yourself forwards along the ground on your elbows... for all of a few, measly feet.

A solid line of strange teeth close gently around the collar of your old, woollen cardigan and before you even have another chance to shout, you're hoisted up off the ground, yanking fistfuls of grass out in your desperation to remain adhered to the earth.

“No!” you gasp, swinging helplessly from the crooning monstrosity's teeth as it peels itself backwards off the side of the cliff and begins to slide down into the deep, blue waters below you.

“This can't be happening!” you repeat to yourself over and over again, “This is not happening!”

Things like this simply don't occur. You have to be dreaming. Perhaps you've fallen asleep on the cliff and this is all just a big, terrible, beer-induced nightmare.

The world around you turns into a dizzying blur of colours, shapes and motion as your captor heaves itself backwards, dropping further and further back down over the edge of the cliff until you're no longer looking down at the ground, but rather the churning sea that sits in wait, far, far below your kicking leg.

If it drops you from this height, the water will rise up to meet you like a slab of concrete. You won't stand a chance.

It's only in response to the disastrous height that you stop struggling and your limbs lock into place as though they've been encased in cement.

Rhythmic puffs of hot, rancid air flow continuously from the creature's maw and envelop your senses in breaths that stink of fish and seaweed. Paralysed as you are by terror, you can't help but gag at the stench.

Once you get your first, proper glimpse of the beast carrying you, icy tendrils of dread slither around your neck until it seems you can't even take in enough air to properly scream.

A rawboned, yellow torso tapers off about halfway down the cliff and seamlessly blends with a long, fleshy tail that disappears into the waters below. You can't tell whether the shimmering scales are simply reflecting the last, dying embers of the sunset, or if they're really that vibrant meld of reds and oranges, highlighted here and there by swirling patterns of the most indescribable gold that would have turned Midas himself envious.

Gradually, as the creature lowers itself down from the cliff to join the rest of its body in the ocean, you're struck quite fiercely that it might have finally happened.

You may have actually lost your mind this time.

There is no rational way to explain why you're being accosted by a giant, ethereal mermaid. Now that really is crazy.

The water all around the beast suffers a massive displacement when it drops its upper body in amongst the waves, bringing its face – and by extension, you – just above the water's surface.

“Wh-what are you doing!?” you splutter at what you're hoping and praying is just a vivd figment of your imagination brought on by trauma, grief and alcohol. Maybe those beers had been laced with something, after all.

In apparent response to your squeaked question, the creature hums behind your head, sending your teeth clattering against one another before it promptly peels its teeth out of your cardigan and allows you to drop the last few feet into the water with a startled yelp.

Salty liquid instantly rushes up your nose and floods into your mouth as you choose the worst possible moment to cry out.

For several, disorienting seconds, you continue to sink further below the surface, the cold of the water shocking you into stillness despite being dragged down by your thick, woolly cardigan.

Though your eyes sting already from the salt in the water, you force your lids to separate and peer through the slowly dissipating bubbles at the murky depths beyond them.

There is something inherently human to feel such paralyzing dread that comes with being in an open body of water alongside a predator. You discover that dread all at once when your vision is filled with that enormous, round face looming just metres in front of you in the water, its eyes squinted nearly all the way shut thanks to the smile that stretches its cheeks to their limits.

Together, the pair of you hang there in the vast, fathomless ocean, gazes inextricably locked, perfect strangers from entirely different worlds.

Behind the monster, its immense tail zips sporadically through the water in unpredictable motions that remind you an awful lot like a cat twitching its tail.

Is that what this is? Are you just the mouse being toyed with before a giant sinks its teeth into your vulnerable neck?

The creature's smile begins to wane the longer you float there until its entire head abruptly spins inquisitively to one side.

It's only now that you finally start to feel the burning discomfort enveloping your lungs, and all of a sudden, an entirely different kind of panic sets in.

You haven't yet been swimming, not since you lost your leg. You never learned how to get by in deep water with a missing limb! And your heavy cardigan is already so water-logged, doing its utmost to drag you further towards the seabed in spite of the salt trying to keep you afloat.

All coherent thought is torn right out of you and replaced with the very rational instinct to seek out the closest route to safe, breathable air.

In an explosion of limbs, you start to kick and flail like a mad thing, reaching out with laden arms to pull at the water around you whilst your one, remaining leg jabs frantically out beneath you.

Sunlight on the surface is quickly fading, but some still filters through like gold dust, too far away to reach, and the precious little air you'd sucked down starts to leak out from between your sealed lips and nostrils in small bursts.

In your frenetic scramble for the surface, you miss the way the beast balks at your behaviour, parting its teeth and releasing a confused warble into the ocean, as if the hulking thing can't work out which swimming technique you're aiming for.

The helpless display must perturb it however, because the next thing you know, a soft, malleable snout is nudging underneath your thigh, coaxing you gently up a little faster. In response, your whole body tries to lurch away from its probing face, but the beast easily keeps up, guiding you to the surface with careful bunts and pushes from its flattened nose. You don't even register that it's incremental to your journey upwards until your head finally breaks through into the open air and you gasp raggedly, spluttering, floundering to put some distance between you and the monster.

Below the waterline, your unusual acquaintance gives your leg another, scrutinising stare, glugging thoughtfully to itself before its eyes light up and it turns its massive bulk around in the water, shooting off with just a single beat of its immense, billowing flukes.

You feel something large pass underneath you, disturbing the water, but you're too busy fighting off your cardigan to pay it much mind. With a final yank, you peel your arms out of the heavy fabric and leave the article behind in your wake, dooming it to the bottom of the ocean where it had tried to drag you not moments ago.

That finished, you swivel yourself clumsily about in the water until you spy your next objective: the cliff walls. You hardly care that the waves are hurling themselves up on the jagged rocks, you only care to get something solid under your foot as soon as possible and get out of the sea.

Spitting another mouthful of salty water, you begin your slow, arduous paddle towards the cliffs.

Time and again, your head dips under the waves and you have to kick and claw your way furiously upwards again, knowing that you're only going to tire yourself out if you don't keep moving in as straight a line as you can manage.

With every passing second, you wholly expect to feel the teeth of the almighty beast chomp down around your ankle and drag you into the drink once more.

As you start to draw within spitting distance of the rocks, you feel the strength behind the waves really pick up as they surge behind you with terrifying force.

Safety is so, tantalisingly close, if you could just keep -

- A watery howl reverberates through the sea around you.

Your assailant hasn't given up the chase, it seems.

Just as you'd feared, you feel those teeth upon you. But it doesn't aim for your leg, or any other of your dangling extremities. Instead, with unbefitting dexterity, that enormous head emerges from the water behind you and it slips its teeth around the elastic waistband of your trousers, lifting you slowly out of the water.

“Woah! Hey!” you squawk, attempting to squirm out of the undignified position while the beast swings its great, finned head around, carrying you away from the rocks at the bottom of the cliff.

So, it didn't appreciate your attempt at escape. Well, what on Earth did it expect?

Dangling above the waves once more, you notice a shape moving to the surface and realise, with a jolt of panic, that it's the creature's hand, rising through the water to rest just below the surface, palm facing the darkening sky. It plops you down on your stomach in amidst those webbed fingers and draws its head back, waiting for you to spin haphazardly onto your back before it aims a gentle frown at you, teeth clacking together in apparent agitation.

It's all you can do to gape up at its face.

If you didn't know any better, you could almost imagine that you're being scolded by this behemoth of the deep.

From what you're gathering, the rocks are out of bounds.

“I.. I don't -... Please!” you blurt out, scrubbing at your face and smearing tears across your stinging cheeks, “Please, just let me go! I don't know what you want from me!”

You let your shout bounce off the cliff walls and watch how the beast's fins quiver in response to the noise, flaring with interest as it stares down at you in silence for a moment longer before it.... appears to heave a great, big sigh through its teeth, head sinking down to you once again, jaws peeling apart.

“No!” Cowering backwards against its curled fingers, you raise an arm to aimlessly protect your face, only to yelp in alarm as something tumbles out of the creature's mouth and lands with a wet 'slap' in its palm beside you.

When you chance a glimpse, you have to do a double-take.

It's... a fish? A half-alive trout, by the looks of it.

You can't help but stare openly down at it, your brows slowly drawing closer together as the slippery, silver fish gasps for breath in the too-shallow water gathered in your captor's palm.

Speaking of whom.. Above you, it lets out a croon, low and deep as it grins, seeming all too pleased with itself for some reason and casting expectant glances between you and its catch.

… What in the world does it expect you to do with this?

The silent question goes unanswered when the poor trout suddenly flops sideways and slaps its tail against your ankle.

“OH! EW! Ew, ew – heugh!” Grimacing, you nudge the fish away with the toe of your shoe, pushing it towards the edge of the gigantic palm. But just then, the behemoth holding you huffs a loud breath through its flaring nostrils and you snap your head up to eye it warily as it bends down to crowd into your space once again, forcing you to press your spine back even further into the cage of fingers surrounding you.

The fish had been halfway to freedom when it's suddenly plucked up between large but nimble teeth and, to your utter dismay, dropped right into your lap.

This time, your squeal of protest is much more emphatic and you shove the fish off your leg, squeezing yourself away from the face hovering in front of you, tilted to one side, as if you're the one confusing it.

Undeterred in its unknowable quest however, the giant hums anxiously and gathers the rejected fish in its teeth once more.

With a single chomp, the seemingly benign baleen that had once held you captive slices clean through the fish's body, leaving the head of the poor animal to fall uselessly onto the creature's palm once again, dead, unseeing eyes staring up at you where you sit with your hand clasped around your mouth, expression contorting into one of abject horror.

Tears begin falling in earnest now and your chest heaves in and out with each, shuddering breath you take.

With the other half of the fish still dangling by the tail from its teeth, the beast brings its head in close to you again and you blurt a cry of outright horror as it tries to press its mouthful to your lips.

Of course, you react as any sane person would to having a raw, dead fish-end so close to your tongue and nose.

You slap both hands over your mouth, squeeze your eyes shut and shriek out a muffled, “FUCK OFF!”

It responds by attempting to shove the 'gift' more insistently against your fingers, all manner of clicks and whinges spilling out of its bobbing throat.

Horrified that this is all feeling far just a little too real for you now, you turn sideways to try and escape, burying yourself into its clammy fingers and trembling around sobs that wrack you from head to toe and cause your chest to burn with the effort.

The last of the sun's rays finally disappear below the horizon, slowly turning the ocean around you a sinister and inky black. If you ever make it out of this alive, you don't you'll ever go near a body of water again...

Lost to your delirium, you don't notice the shift in the air and the breeze falling still... But your captor certainly does...

It can feel the vibrations shudder through the water, growing stronger with each passing second, and it can hear that deep, sonorous hum that travels along the waves like the roll of faraway thunder.

Disheartened by your refusal to eat, the behemoth reluctantly withdraws, swallowing the fish in a single gulp. No use letting good food go to waste. Then, it raises its head and turns its gaze out to sea, emitting a lilted croon in response to whatever had called it away from the tiny creature in its palm.

You finally notice that you're no longer being hounded by a dead fish and risk a glance up at the giant's face, surprised – and a little relieved – to find that its attention has turned elsewhere. But that relief is short-lived when you start to ponder over what has captured its focus.

Sniffling, you twist yourself around at the waist to stare out between the gaps in its fingers, even daring to put a hand on the membrane and pull it down a little to see.

And what you see turns the blood in your veins thick and cold and draws all the life out of your cheeks.

You'd thought the beast holding you was terrifying, but it pales in comparison to the monstrous entity rising like a monolith out of the deep before your very eyes, sweeping its gargantuan body through the waters towards you, silent and fluid as a ghost.

If the beast cupping you in its palm embodies daylight, then this gruesome atrocity must be its midnight counterpart. Polar opposites, but terrifyingly alike.

Where your captor's fins are bright and eye-catching, the creature looming towards you out of the darkness has a sail of the deepest indigo stretching from the top of its head down to the small of its pale, white back. It's face too is round as the moon, but the eyes...

You can't suppress a vivid shiver at the sight of those terrible eyes...

Like two, black tar pits that could swallow any light that tried to permeate them, save for the pinprick glow of two scarlet pupils hovering at the centre of each socket, somehow defying that very rule.

Below the waves, you notice dark, swishing shapes pulling the giant along, vast tentacles, eight of them, each one the length of a football field and roughly the width of a redwood tree and flecked with silvery speckles that resemble a galaxy blanketed with stars.

'Good god,' your mind supplies, 'It's part-fucking-cephalopod.'

The huge tendrils draw the newcomer up close to its fellow leviathan and it drifts to a graceful stop, blood-red pupils flicking down to you before returning to the other beast holding you hostage.

And then, it bares its teeth.

You barely manage to stifle a whimper.

Row upon row of sharp, jagged fangs jut from the top and bottom of its elongated mouth, gleaming in the pale moonlight that shines down from overhead as it hisses at its brethren, causing you to wonder if they're even affiliated at all.

Is it about to attack? It certainly doesn't look too happy from your angle?

But the beast holding you doesn't seem to be concerned, and instead, it suddenly lifts you up towards the other's face, eliciting a series of, 'No, no no's' that stream incessantly from your lips when you find yourself staring straight into that fang-filled mouth.

The new creature takes a second to peer down at you, its pupils glowing brighter with something akin to interest. It's a Hell of a thing to have that gaze searing into you, studying you, dissecting you with its blazing eyes.

... There's intelligence in those eyes...

In the next second, you flinch as it suddenly shakes its head from side to side and snaps its teeth at its softer counterpart, grumbling low in its throat and getting a click or two in response. To your untrained ears, they appear to be having a conversation of sorts, although what a pair of creatures like these two have to discuss, you don't even want to hazard a guess.

The smaller, brighter one ducks its head at a particularly sharp rattle from the larger beast, yet it still huffs out a response and lifts its other, unoccupied hand to place a slender finger against your leg.

Reflexively, you snatch your limb away from the touch and try to tuck it underneath yourself.

Ruby-red eyes drill holes into you as it falls eerily quiet, only the waves rocking gently against its hide make any sound. Then, after chuffing shortly at its opposite, the darker one holds out its enormous, webbed hand, crooking its fingers as if to tell the other beast, 'Hand it over.'

You're awfully certain that the 'it' in question refers to you. If it boils down to a choice between the two, you'd prefer to be killed by the beast without glowing, red eyes and a mouthful of shark teeth.

In response, your captor's orange fins flatten miserably against its head and it draws you close to its chest, but after receiving a withering glare, it concedes to hold you out once more, presenting you like a dainty morsel to the far scarier juggernaut, who wastes no time in extending its arm towards you.

No matter how much you might fear the beast to your back, there's no way in Hell you want to be anywhere near the one in front of you. You truly are stuck fast between a rock and a hard place.

Sinewy fingers, each tipped by claws as long as your hand, quickly eat up the distance between you and the newcomer. Gulping like that dying fish, you try to shove yourself backwards across the water-slicked palm beneath you, and you'd likely have taken a tumble right over the side if the approaching hand hadn't suddenly struck like a viper, propelling forwards and wrapping around you at a startling speed that knocks a wheeze out of your lungs.

“-Ack! DON'T!” you holler, but it's already far too late.

Like serpents, the fingers wind around your torso and leg, yet they leave your arms free, and you waste no time in trying to scrabble furiously against the solid bands of muscle constricting all around you.

“Get your hands... off me!” you demand shrilly, bristling like a cornered kitten and sounding about as intimidating as one too. The entity, however, hardly seems bothered as it lifts you close to its face and tips its hand, fingers unfurling until you find yourself sitting in the cup of its palm, where it swiftly places its thumb across your stomach, holding you still, content to ignore the feeble shoves you give to the heavy appendage.

To the rear of your odd trio, the yellow creature is croaking and mumbling through pursed lips, wringing its gigantic hands as if something has made it anxious, yet it draws close up behind its counterpart and keeps its eyes glued to the side of your face as you remain helplessly in the secure yet surprisingly cautious grasp.

The new beast doesn't squeeze you to a pulp, doesn't try to stuff you between those fangs or wrap one of its tentacles around your neck to choke the life of of you... Instead, after peering down at you for a few, awful moments, it turns about in the water and begins moving, not further out to sea, but towards the cliffs you'd come from. You barely have time to process this strange turn of events before you're suddenly tilted in its palm and brought up against a cool, clammy chest, pinned there by dextrous fingers as the beast stretches four of its prehensile tentacles up towards the top of the cliff. 

Incapable of escape, you watch in horrified fascination as the suckers on each limb adhere themselves to the walls and it begins to climb, hauling itself up and over the edge with you still clutched to its pasty chest.

You vividly hear the sound of glass smashing as its tentacle lands of top of the discarded beer bottles, but aside from twitching its frills at the sound, the behemoth doesn't outwardly react.

With slow, loping movements, it begins to pulls itself along the ground using its tentacles, perturbing you even further with the knowledge that it can traverse both land and sea.

Near-enough silent, its limbs swish through the grass and carry you up the slope, right to the back door of your temporary domicile.

By now, you've essentially given up attempting to make sense of the goings-on around you and resolve to simply remain still and limp in the creature's grasp, hoping for the best, but definitely expecting the worst.

Yet, as if the two entities haven't surprised you enough, you're further stupefied when the one holding you lets out a resonant hum and lowers you to the ground just in front of the back steps, by the door. It doesn't let go of you though, keeping you securely fastened underneath its thumb for several seconds, ample time for your initial captor to heave itself over the clifftop and drag its cumbersome body up to the cottage as well, chirruping as it catches sight of you again.

It's no surprise that the tentacled beast had an easier time lugging itself over the ground thanks to all its additional limbs.

With safety beckoning only a few feet behind you, you attempt to struggle against the thumb once more, but you soon go rigid as the creature of midnight blue lowers itself down onto its elbows, sending a quake through the ground when it makes contact with the Earth.

Holding your eye – because really, how are you supposed to turn your back on something that large and horrifying – it slowly extends its neck towards you, the wicked teeth inside its mouth prying themselves apart.

The sudden reminder of those very real threats hits you like a sack of bricks and you start to fight against its hold in earnest, batting at its thumb with clenched fists and choking out a desperate plea, “Oh, god! Please don't!”

Vivid memories of that dead-eyed fish spring up unbidden in your mind's eye.

You... don't want to die. Not like this, at least.

Your parents were ripped away from you against their will, through no fault of their own.

You never realised how badly you want to be in charge of your own fate until now. The very thought of being chewed on as nothing more than a snack for this wretched, undiscovered sea monster turns your heart to lead.

Through bulging eyes, you can do nothing but watch on, morbidly transfixed as a slimy, pitch-dark tongue creeps out from between the creature's barbed teeth and begins to slither towards you, prompting a string of curses to dribble off your lips.

Stuck with nowhere to go and almost seeing double from the panic fizzing in your brain, you clamp your eyes shut and dig your fingernails into its fleshy thumb, waiting with bated breath...

A sudden, unexpectedly damp sensation swipes against the bottom of your damaged thigh and you splutter out a gasp, flinging your eyes open to see the grotesque tongue ghosting over the scarred tissue that mars the bottom of your stump.

Pulling a face, you give the fraction of a limb a twitch and jerk your opposite leg across to kick feebly at the creature's encroaching tongue.

“Hey! Stop that!” The reprimand hardly comes out as anything more substantial than a meek whimper, but the creature does draw its tongue back behind its teeth with a huff. You have no idea what kind of bacteria live in that saliva, but an infection is the very last thing you need right now.

The beast pulls itself away and you're filled with an almost insurmountable urge to weep with relief when it finally, finally peels its thumb from your stomach and begins to tilt its palm forwards, allowing you to slip off onto the back step on your rear, gaping up in shock as it pulls its hand away again.

Free at last but still aghast at the thought of turning your back on not one, but two, aquatic deities, you shuffle backwards up the step until your spine hits the door behind you with a loud 'clunk,' rattling it inside its flimsy frame.

One of the darker beast's tentacles begins to approach and you snap your head in its direction, wondering if you could get to the key beneath the mat and unlock the door before the twisting appendage reaches you... but once again, it seems your apprehension is unfounded. A small flash of white catches your attention, half hidden by narrow coils, and as you stare, the beast raises the limb a little closer to you, then drops its captured item by your foot, slowly retracting the tentacle once its deed is done.

You blink owlishly down at the object.

It's your prosthetic leg.

“I...” But words more compounded than single-syllable vowels fail you.

Why would they return this? You'd almost forgotten all about your missing limb, deeming it comparatively mundane when seen next to a pair of colossal, otherworldly beings.

Movement, again, this time a flash of yellow and orange has you raising your eyes just in time to see the ichthyic creature all but shove its counterpart out of the way in its haste to stoop down and thrust its face out towards you, and before you even have the wit to lift your arms in some sort of meagre defence, it's enormous, red tongue darts out and slaps wetly against your chest, dragging a rough line up over your throat, face and hair and leaving a delightful trail of slobber behind as a parting gift.

The urge to vomit becomes increasingly difficult to ignore. It wasn't so long ago you watched that mouth devour the lower half of a trout, bones and all. Spluttering incoherently, you raise your hands and swipe the creature's saliva out of your eyes, shooting it an exasperated glance that goes utterly ignored.

With a roll of luminous, red eyes, the paler of the two grabs the smaller beast by its wrist and begins the arduous task of dragging it down towards the edge of the cliff.

Before they leave however, your initial captor offers you one last, longing glance, then it turns to let itself get tugged along by the other creature, and with a quick swish of tentacles and flukes, the two of them vanish over the side and leave you wonderfully, blessedly alone on the back step, wondering whether to call the police, animal services, or the nearest mental health unit.

#Fnaf #Security Breach #Sunnydrop/reader #Sun/Reader #Moondrop/reader #Daycare attendant #Daycare attendant x reader #Mermay 2022 #merman #mer au #giant merman #Reader #amputee reader #amputation #medical trauma #depression #grief and mourning #ableism #alcohol #alcoholism #minor character death #car accidents #g/t #giant/tiny #language #mental health issues

[whileiamdying]

A SERENE JAZZ MASTERPIECE TURNS 65

The best-selling and arguably the best-loved jazz album ever, Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue still has the power to awe.

MARCH 06, 2024

At a moment when jazz still loomed large in American culture, 1959 was an unusually monumental year. Those 12 months saw the release of four great and genre-altering albums: Charles Mingus’s Mingus Ah Um, Dave Brubeck’s Time Out (with its megahit “Take Five”), Ornette Coleman’s The Shape of Jazz to Come, and Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue. Sixty-five years on, the genre, though still filled with brilliant talent, has receded to niche status from the culture at large. What remains of that earthshaking year in jazz? “Take Five” has stayed a standard, a tune you might hear on TV or on the radio, a signifier of smooth and nostalgic cool. Mingus, the genius troublemaker, and Coleman, the free-jazz pioneer, remain revered by Those Who Know; their names are still familiar, but most of the music they made has been forgotten by the broader public. Yet Kind of Blue, arguably the best-selling and best-loved jazz album ever, endures—a record that still has the power to awe, that seems to exist outside of time. In a world of ceaseless tumult, its matchless serenity is more powerful than ever.

On the afternoon of Monday, March 2, 1959, seven musicians walked into Columbia Records’ 30th Street Studio, a cavernous former church just off Third Avenue, to begin recording an album. The LP, not yet named, was initially known as Columbia Project B 43079. The session’s leader—its artistic director, the man whose name would appear on the album cover—was Miles Davis. The other players were the members of Davis’s sextet: the saxophonists John Coltrane and Julian “Cannonball” Adderley, the bassist Paul Chambers, the drummer Jimmy Cobb, and the pianist Wynton Kelly. To the confusion and dismay of Kelly, who had taken a cab all the way from Brooklyn because he hated the subway, another piano player was also there: the band’s recently departed keyboardist, Bill Evans.

Every man in the studio had recorded many times before; nobody was expecting this time to be anything special. “Professionals,” Evans once said, “have to go in at 10 o’clock on a Wednesday and make a record and hope to catch a really good day.” On the face of it, there was nothing remarkable about Project B 43079. For the first track laid down that afternoon, a straight-ahead blues-based number that would later be named “Freddie Freeloader,” Kelly was at the keyboard. He was a joyous, selfless, highly adaptable player, and Davis, a canny leader, figured a blues piece would be a good way for the band to limber up for the more demanding material ahead—material that Evans, despite having quit the previous November due to burnout and a sick father, had a large part in shaping.

A highly trained classical pianist, the New Jersey–born Evans fell in love with jazz as a teenager and, after majoring in music at Southeastern Louisiana University, moved to New York in 1955 with the aim of making it or going home. Like many an apprentice, he booked a lot of dances and weddings, but one night, at the Village Vanguard, where he’d been hired to play between the sets of the world-famous Modern Jazz Quartet, he looked down at the end of the grand piano and saw Davis’s penetrating gaze fixed on him. A few months later, having forgotten all about the encounter, Evans was astonished to receive a phone call from the trumpeter: Could he make a gig in Philadelphia?

He made the gig and, just like that, became the only white musician in what was then the top small jazz band in America. It was a controversial hire. Evans, who was really white—bespectacled, professorial—incurred instant and widespread resentment among Black musicians and Black audiences. But Davis, though he could never quite stop hazing the pianist (“We don’t want no white opinions!” was one of his favorite zingers), made it clear that when it came to musicians, he was color-blind. And what he wanted from Evans was something very particular.

One piece that Davis became almost obsessed with was Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli’s 1957 recording of Maurice Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G. The work, inspired by Ravel’s triumphant 1928 tour of the U.S., was clearly influenced by the fast pace and openness of America: It shimmers with sprightly piccolo and bold trumpet sounds, and dances with unexpected notes and chord changes.

Davis wanted to put wide-open space into his music the way Ravel did. He wanted to move away from the familiar chord structures of jazz and use different scales the way Aram Khachaturian, with his love for Asian music, did. And Evans, unlike any other pianist working in jazz, could put these things onto the keyboard. His harmonic intelligence was profound; his touch on the keys was exquisitely sensitive. “I planned that album around the piano playing of Bill Evans,” Davis said.

But Davis wanted even more. Ever restless, he had wearied of playing songs—American Songbook standards and jazz originals alike—that were full of chords, and sought to simplify. He’d recently been bowled over by a Les Ballets Africains performance—by the look and rhythms of the dances, and by the music that accompanied them, especially the kalimba (or “finger piano”). He wanted to get those sounds into his new album, and he also wanted to incorporate a memory from his boyhood: the ghostly voices of Black gospel singers he’d heard in the distance on a nighttime walk back from church to his grandparents’ Arkansas farm.

In the end, Davis felt that he’d failed to get all he’d wanted into Kind of Blue. Over the next three decades, his perpetual artistic antsiness propelled him through evolving styles, into the blend of jazz and rock called fusion, and beyond. What’s more, Coltrane, Adderley, and Evans were bursting to move on and out and lead their own bands. Just 12 days after Kind of Blue’s final session, Coltrane would record his groundbreaking album Giant Steps, a hurdle toward the cosmic distances he would probe in the eight short years remaining to him. Cannonball, as soulful as Trane was boundary-bursting, would bring a new warmth to jazz with hits such as “Mercy, Mercy, Mercy.” And for the rest of his career, one sadly truncated by his drug use, Evans would pursue the trio format with subtle lyrical passion.

Yet for all the bottled-up dynamism in the studio during Kind of Blue’s two recording sessions, a profound, Zenlike quiet prevailed throughout. The essence of it can be heard in Evans and Chambers’s hushed, enigmatic opening notes on the album’s opening track, “So What,” a tune built on just two chords and containing, in Davis’s towering solo, one of the greatest melodies in all of music.

The majestic tranquility of Kind of Blue marks a kind of fermata in jazz. America’s great indigenous art had evolved from the exuberant transgressions of the 1920s to the danceable rhythms of the swing era to the prickly cubism of bebop. The cool (and warmth) that followed would then accelerate into the ’60s ever freer of melody and harmony before being smacked head-on by rock and roll—a collision it wouldn’t quite survive.

That charmed moment in the spring of 1959 was brief: Of the seven musicians present on that long-ago afternoon, only Miles Davis and Jimmy Cobb would live past their early 50s. Yet 65 years on, the music they all made, as eager as Davis was to put it behind him, stays with us. The album’s powerful and abiding mystique has made it widely beloved among musicians and music lovers of every category: jazz, rock, classical, rap. For those who don’t know it, it awaits you patiently; for those who do, it welcomes you back, again and again.

James Kaplan, a 2012 Guggenheim fellow, is a novelist, journalist, and biographer. His next book will be an examination of the world-changing creative partnership and tangled friendship of John Lennon and Paul McCartney.

#the atlantic #miles davis #james kaplan #kind of blue

[angelofrainfrogs]

Going Back: Ch. 23

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: Things are looking up for Gregory. After putting the soul of a formerly-immortal killer to rest, he and his new family can finally begin their lives anew. Sure, Gregory might have been cursed with mysterious Remnant in exchange for being involved in this mess—not to mention his caretakers consist of sentient robots and ghosts… But there’s no doubt that the bond they share is unbreakable. They love him, and he in turn. 

All in all, life is finally starting to go right for once. 

…Unfortunately, true peace is a hard-won battle. There are other things to contend with besides William’s decrepit soul, and Gregory will learn that his role in the lives of the Aftons and Emilys is far greater than anyone could’ve imagined. 

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

It was officially reopening day at the Pizzaplex. Mike and Charlie had headed out early to help with the chaos; with no stage shows scheduled in lieu of their missing front man, Freddy and Gregory were given a pass to skip the morning rush. However, they couldn't stay cooped up in the hotel for long and headed out to join their friends at lunchtime. As usual, they went straight for Sam’s office to check in, snagging Mike and Charlie along the way who'd come to greet them at the entrance. Freddy was admittedly a bit nervous as he knocked on the CEO’s door—a feeling that he wasn’t a fan of at all. But he had his family by his side, so he knew everything would work out in the end.

“Afternoon, boss!” Michael called through the door. “Hope the day wasn’t too chaotic?”

Things were looking up for the Pizzaplex. With the large number of cars lining the parking lot, it was clear the morning shift was a success. Most of the families visiting were already at attractions and party rooms, so running into a huge crowd was unlikely. Even so, Gregory found himself scanning the halls they trailed down as if it was his first night here. Following directly behind, Charlie made sure he got to Sam's office feeling a little safer than he might have walking alone.

“Hey everyone! No—nothing too crazy yet. The day's still young, though,” Sam joked, knocking against the wood of his desk with a superstitious rap. “Sophie’s been busy. Bonnie Bowl has been pretty popular today! And Foxy's been a huge hit with the older kids, too.”

“That is wonderful to hear!” Freddy exclaimed, eyes shining with excitement. He was itching to go out and pace the floor, greeting guests every chance he got… but in his current form, he’d only come off as an over-enthusiastic employee. He’d just have to settle for the next best thing: watching over his doppelgänger in his stead.

“I’m glad things are turning out so well.” Mike clapped Sammy on the shoulder. “Any animatronics giving you trouble? Malfunctions, weird responses… being places they shouldn’t be?”

This last part was a clear dig at Ennard, who should have remained in the attendant’s little room above the stage all day. Until they got an official okay, they were only meant to observe, not interact. It was a win-win: they got to watch how humans acted, and Michael got to keep from tearing his hair out for the next few days with anxiety.

This little arrangement kept everyone happy overall. Ennard was oblivious to Michael's deep-seated hatred—or in denial; Sam really couldn't tell. Should Ennard have already broken his promise, it would be awkward for all the patrons to watch the security guard scold a grown man for trespassing on the first night of their reopening.

Sam thought for a moment, then told Mike with a sigh: “Bonnie—that bunny has ants in his pants about something. I found him smuggling a chest full of whole inflated balloons through the backrooms this morning.” The harried CEO shook his head. “Could one of you go check and make sure the party schedule in his internal calendar is working right? Just ask him what the day and time is. I don't want him filling up a room with extra party favors when there’s no birthday.”

“On it.” Michael gave a salute, then turned on his heel to search for the rabbit. The last thing they needed was an over-enthusiastic animatronic worrying Sam and spoiling Gregory’s birthday surprise…

“Is my old body ready for the personality download?” Freddy asked. Running a hand through Gregory’s hair, he looked to Sam with a soft laugh. “Have the children been asking for him? I was hoping Bonnie and Foxy would be a good distraction…”

He didn’t mean to sound conceited at all, and it was clear from his tone. It was a simple fact that Freddy was the most popular—he was still the face of Fazbear Entertainment, after all.

It was time to get to work again. Sam rolled up the sleeve, nodding to Freddy.

“Yes!” he answered, a bit frazzled and frayed due to the stress of people asking him where Freddy was. “Constantly. The kids are getting a little suspicious—either that or I’m just being paranoid."

In the animatronic stand beside the workbench and computer, Freddy’s old empty model was propped up under a canvas sheet. Sam carefully pulled the sheet away, proud of his work for polishing and fixing Freddy’s paint job. He looked as pristine as the others now; all that was left was to download him again.

Gregory had quietly slipped next to the workbench as Sam booted up the computer. Of course there was no way to replace his dad—Gregory couldn’t idolize a Freddy more than the one he called ‘father’ and went to for comfort. Still, he was excited that the whole band would be reunited soon.

“Let’s not keep them waiting, then!” Gregory exclaimed, quickly checking the cable connections before booting up the personality folder and beginning its data dump.  

Freddy stood with Charlie, watching the bear carefully for signs of life. The redhead’s face was pinched in concentration. There was no way this shouldn’t work, but he couldn’t help but worry.

It happened like all the others—gradual movements that worked up to full awareness. First, a subtle twitch of a finger. Next, a wiggle of an ear. Then a slow blink of those ice-blue eyes as the bear perked up and automatically scanned the room to assess the situation. There were four people present. The face of Samuel Emily, his creator and CEO of Fazbear Entertainment was recognized instantly. However, he didn’t know the others: a man with red hair and a bright, fixed gaze; a younger girl with dark brown hair standing at his side; and a little boy sitting by the computer workstation.

The man’s children, perhaps? Although the girl looked a bit like Sam, in all honesty… They were all watching intently, clearly waiting for something.

“Hello!” the bear greeted after flexing a few more limbs. He scanned the room with a wide grin on his face, mainly focusing on the unfamiliar faces. Guest protocol dictated he acknowledged new patrons first and foremost, especially if there was a child present. “It is a pleasure to meet you! My name is Freddy; what are yours?”

Charlie held her breath. The other animatronics waking up was routine—predictable. No one knew how much this Freddy knew. She hoped that the extra data wipe Sam had done to this particular model kept untoward memories at bay, especially over the past few weeks. Gregory would be the first to test this, getting up from the chair besides the computer with a confident strut. He had faith that this Freddy model would be just like the one he first met, friendly and endearing.

“Freddy? Can you hear me?” he asked curiously, wondering if his audio systems were online. Sam took a more silent approach, an amiable grin on his face as he came around to observe the  interaction. The animatronic turned at the voice, his smile bright as he crouched down to be on Gregory’s level.

“Hello, superstar!” he said, that familiar voice once again undercut with robotic feedback. It was a subtle difference, but those who knew the original Freddy would be able to tell which one was talking without too much effort.

As programmed, the animatronic bear performed a cursory scan of the child in front of him. He blinked once—

Accessing guest databank…

—twice—

Performing facial recognition cross-reference…

—and then his eyes focused again and he held out a claw.

Match. Guest profile: male, 12 years old, name—

“Gregory Fitzburgh—that is a name fit for a rockstar!” the bear said cheerfully, waiting to see if the child would take his proffered shake or if Gregory was less hands-on. If so, he’d adjust his interaction accordingly.

Freddy’s shoulders sagged with relief at the confirmation that both the facial recognition software worked and Gregory was officially in the guest book under their new last name. Now, to see how his son responded to the friendly bear…  

Gregory met his hand with a warm and receptive shake. All systems seemed good to go from the outset. His dad never needed to worry about how the Glamrocks were going to perform without him.

“Heck yeah! Thanks, Freddy!” Gregory exclaimed, excited that his favorite animatronic could continue bringing joy to the other kids at the Pizzaplex. Naturally, he was trusting of Fazbear—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching the newer version of Freddy scrupulously.

Charlie could finally let herself breathe, or rather simulate the action. Freddy was never infected with the virus—but that didn’t mean there wasn’t still a smidgen of William’s viral footprint anywhere. Everything seemed alright to her, and she allowed herself to smile. Sam, satisfied so far, came around to the newest iteration of Freddy.

“It’s good to have you back online,” he welcomed warmly. “I’ve got a few surprises for you, buddy!”

Sam would act as if Freddy was powered off for routine maintenance and upkeep. Nothing strange had happened in the past few weeks since his last update.

“Oh? I am excited to hear!” Freddy 2.0 responded, getting back to his feet. When his gaze swept around the room, Fred thought it only prudent to greet the other new faces. Performing a quick scan of the girl and the redhead by her side, he was surprised to note they were in fact new employees!

...They were also not human, but it seemed like none of them thought to point out that fact so Fred decided that was a question to ask Sam when they were alone. Or, perhaps some of the other animatronics could give him some insight later.

“How nice to make your acquaintances!” the bear said kindly, reaching out both paws for Freddy and Charlie to take. “Charlie Emily...” He paused, sparing a questioning glance at the CEO. “I did not realize you had a daughter, Samuel.”

And there was that ever-learning AI at work, giving him a hint of distinct personality. With a hum of acceptance the bear turned back to acknowledge the other man. “And... Freddy Fitzburgh.”

That tilt of the head was back, coupled with a definite question in those illuminated eyes. The android watched carefully, shaking his hand with a slow greeting. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Freddy. I am a big fan of the name, by the way.”

The bear's expression shifted at his voice. It was... weirdly similar to his, but again, he wasn't going to question it—not right now, at least. He already had much to catch up on without worrying why this man seemed so disarmingly familiar.

“As I am of yours—and the pleasure is mine,” the bear responded, and it almost seemed like the pair had started a contest of wary formality. Turning back to Sam, he acknowledged his creator with a nod. “Now, what were these surprises you wanted to show me?”

For a brief moment of unease, Gregory swallowed thickly as he watched them interact. Only when his dad complimented his bear counterpart did his shoulders relax, a soft sigh exhaling through his nose. There was nothing to fear here; two of the friendliest guys ever manufactured were standing in the same room. There would be no hard feelings between people so warmhearted and good of nature.

Catching their bear friend up to speed on things might take more than a night, given his special circumstances. Sam would take it slow, knowing the more he lied the harder it was going to be to tell Freddy the truth... If it ever needed to come to that.

“Oh—how rude of me. Yes, this is Charlie! She should be uploaded into your employee file. Right along with her sister, Mari.” Sam placed a hand on her shoulder as Charlie extended her arm with a wide grin. Sam cleared his throat, moving on from the subject of family and why everyone was here to watch Freddy wake up. “The surprises! Yes—” He moved for his desk and dug through his coat pocket for the security tablet he kept. “—you're going to love this. It's something you were asking a lot about...”

Soon, a security feed was presented to Freddy 2.0, showing the front of Bonnie Bowl where an official-looking guard was chatting with his good friend, Bonnie Bunny.

“Mari... ah, yes, I see now,” the bear responded, staring into space for a moment as he accessed the employee database. There were a surprising number of new recruits, and it led him to wonder what in the world happened while he was out... However, this train of thought was soon derailed as Sam pulled up the camera feed. Freddy 2.0 gasped, eyes growing wide as he looked upon the familiar rabbit and one of the new employees he'd just read about.

“Is that... Bonnie?!” he asked in awe, glancing up to Sam in disbelief.

According to the last data point in his memory banks, Bonnie had been out of commission for a few months. It'd been a sudden replacement, his removal and transfer of bass-playing status to Monty, but to Fred it was just a sad but inevitable fact of being an animatronic performer.

“May I see him?” he asked eagerly. “I know there are still some tests we must run before I can be released onto the floor, but... is there time in Bonnie's schedule for a quick hello?”

Sam couldn't say no to that face. He supposed that was his fault for creating, in his own opinion, the sweetest iteration of Freddy Fazbear. “Of course you can! Feel free to free roam today; I freed up your schedule for you to better acclimate.”

Sam figured it would be a nice treat for the kids, too—if Freddy wasn't tied down to a party, anyone that might've missed him could get a free moment with their favorite cartoon bear. It wouldn't hurt Freddy either to get as much socializing in as possible.

“I bet you won't even guess the next surprise...” Sam laughed quietly to himself, switching the camera feeds over to Pirate's Cove. A few clicks and he was there, turning the tablet back around to show who else had joined their Glamrock crew.

Foxy stood tall with his peg leg perched on the very point of the bow, watching over a few of the older kids as they ran about the play area. A few parents took pictures, flashes from their cameras temporarily causing Foxy to appear woozy. Sam scrunched his eyebrows together at the sight.

“Ugh. Poor Foxy...,” Sam muttered under his breath, knowing he'd have to find those people later and ask them to stop flash-bombing his robots.

“Oh dear...” the Freddy's murmured in unison, then quickly shot a glance at each other.

“Come on, then—no time to waste!” the original soul laughed brightly, hooking his arm through the bear's. “We will accompany you to help control the crowds. You have been sorely missed!”

If there was anyone who knew how to handle the inevitable mob that was about to surround Freddy, it was the old bear himself. Looking to Gregory, he asked: “Superstar, are you going to stay with us for a bit, or would you like to find your friends?”

The animatronic glanced side-eyed at the redhead clinging to him. That was his term of endearment for children... although he supposed anyone could use the phrase. It's not like it was a branded trademark of Fazbear Entertainment.

The look that Freddy 2.0 gave his dad did not go unnoticed by the teen, and Gregory had to suppress a laugh. Gregory didn't want to wade through a crowd of kids that would probably tear his head off to get to see Freddy Fazbear, live and in the mechanical flesh. With a mock salute, he told his dad: “I'm gonna go find Evan and see what he's up to. Later Freddy! It was nice meeting you!”

When he turned to leave, Charlie stopped him with a grasp to his shoulder.

“Before you go—take some cash. Get a water before and try to lay off the sodas; they're bad for your teeth, kid,” she reminded, cramming a few bills into Gregory’s hand.

“And I can also get cake with this…?” he asked with raised eyebrows, trying to persuade one of his caretakers into letting him indulge in one snack.

“You can totally have cake later. But eat some actual food first,” Charlie said before opening the door for the rest of their little group. She was confident that Gregory could navigate the Pizzaplex by himself now. With friends at every turn, he would be a-okay. As Gregory passed through the door, she found herself checking his wrist and making certain he still had Mari's bracelet secured.

“Bye, Gregory!” the bear called after the excitable kid. He'd barely talked to him for ten minutes, but he liked him already. Turning to Sam, he gave him an appreciative little bow. “And thank you for the repair, Sam—I will be sure to check in later tonight.”

With Freddy and Charlie also bidding Sammy adieu, they took a collective deep breath and led the bear out into the Pizzaplex. As expected, it was chaos on sight. Most patrons were simply happy to see an animatronic up close and personal as Freddy weaved through the crowds with the two rather strong employees by his side like robotic guard dogs. The guests would shout and wave to try and get the bear's attention, but kept their distance overall.

Then, there were the ones who'd come specifically to see the lead singer. These kids—and some of their parents—swarmed the trio instantly, and it took a combined effort to push through the crowd little by little with short greetings and photos. Freddy had to lecture a few parents for flash photography, happy in the back of his mind that he was no longer affected by such an issue but knowing it threw his old body for a loop when the lights spiked in front of his eyes.

Eventually, they were riding the escalators up to Bonnie Bowl. It seemed like its namesake and Michael had retreated into the attraction, which was fine—less people around for the meeting of old friends. Soon the bear was stepping out of the elevator with Charlie and Freddy on his heels, searching for the rabbit. Upon spotting him still speaking with the man from earlier, he let out a gasp.

“Bonnie!” The bear waved brightly as he rushed over, not hesitating to pull the bunny into a tight hug. “Oh my goodness, I have missed you, old friend!”

Bonnie managed to turn Michael's lecture into a free bowling lesson somewhere around ten minutes ago. It started as a way for Bonnie to sort of escape the consequences of being caught with random party favors for Gregory, the charismatic bunny now nonchalantly standing beside the lane as he coached Mike on the way he flicked the heavy ball down the alley. 

When Bonnie heard the familiar, garbled voice he jumped a little. He nearly told them that this seemed like déjà vu, but quickly held his tongue and came around to meet Freddy in the middle of the bowling parlor. Arms were held open wide, and Bonnie hugged his best friend-2.0, giddy with excitement over seeing Freddy the way he always remembered him.

“Fredbear! You've finally come out of hiding. I missed you too, ol' sport!” the friendly rabbit drawled, floppy ears resting against the bear's head and directing a wink to the original. “Thanks for bringing Freddy here, you two!”

“Well, well!” A voice that 2.0 didn't recognize spoke, and over Bonnie's shoulder he could see the man in the security guard uniform striding over. Mike tipped his hat, grinning widely up at the bear. “Good to see you up and running, Freddy. I'm Michael—new head of security and night guard. Although, you should already know that.”

“Michael...,” the bear murmured, pulling back from the rabbit's embrace to stare down at the guard quizzically. A quick scan proved his words to be true, and the usual smile lit up his face. “Ah, yes! Michael Afton, Jr. It is wonderful to make your acquaintance—I believe we will be seeing a lot of each other from now on.”

“You bet." Mike laughed, reaching up and giving the bear a firm pat on the arm. Even it wasn't his true friend in there, it was relieving to know the animatronic was still just as sweet.

“We thought we would take Freddy to see the new additions to the line-up,” the redhead explained, catching Michael's attention. He frowned slightly, recalling what he'd seen on the camera. “...Perhaps you should join us—there are some people taking flash photography in Pirate's Cove and Foxy looked a bit unsteady.”

Michael heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I'll come along... Wrangling the crowd is part of my job, after all.”

“Good thing, too; I know I’m supposed to help manage things, but I don’t think people will listen to me very much,” Charlie remarked, walking beside her old friend with a flash of disappointment that quickly turned into a teasing smile. “They're way more scared of Mikey over here!”

Bonnie couldn't exactly leave Bonnie Bowl when there were customers enjoying the games, and he’d already gotten in trouble for wandering today. With one lasting squeeze around his friend's hand, he felt that dull aching inside his chest—knowing full well that the inseparable human part of him wanted to ditch the bowling alley to follow his friends. “Come back soon, pal.”

“It's because you're too nice, Charlie,” Mike remarked as the group walked off, jamming the elevator button to take them back to the main area. “You've gotta put your foot down a little more—show people who's boss, you know?”

After a beat of silence, Freddy 2.0 looked down at the android inquisitively. “Michael, you are a head of security and night guard?”

The silent question clearly being: How in the world do you sleep with two equally taxing jobs?

“Mm-hmm,” Mike responded, stepping out as the doors opened with the animatronic close behind. “I'm kind of an insomniac, so—hey! Hands off the bear, ma'am!”

Michael's explanation was cut off as a rather enthusiastic mom tried to rush the bear and he physically stepped in her path, barring her from practically throwing her kid into Freddy's arms.

“Sorry!” Charlie said to the very impatient mother, the good-cop to Michael's bad-cop while proving his point from earlier. “Freddy's not doing photoshoots right now!”

It was so odd how popular all the Glamrocks were, to the point that her and Michael had to strong-arm people from knocking into the heavy robots and hurting themselves. After they shooed her away, much to the apparent chagrin of that particular mother, it seemed Michael's official guard outfit warded away the crazies in the crowd. Charlie made sure to tell the disappointed parent that both Foxy and Bonnie were available to play, and quickly rushed to move Freddy along towards Pirate's Cove. There, at least they could introduce Freddy to more kids in little increments.

Arriving to the attraction, one thing was obvious—Foxy was walking very strangely. Uneven in his gait as he finished up a story, even seeming somewhat twitchy to other kid's movements. His one eyepatch was flipped up, and the glow in his eyes was uneven. He’d clearly been flashed recently and was just trying to work through it, his optics unable to adjust to the ambient lighting in the room now.

“And that's the end of my tale! I hope you enjoyed it—I can't tell if you did. I also can't tell if anyone stayed or listened! 'Fraid my sight's gone with the tide...,” Foxy told the small gathering of youngsters who laughed at what they thought was just a quirky joke.

“Oh god…,” Michael groaned at the sight of the shambling pirate. He quickly hopped on the little dock that served as a stage, spouting instructions. “Freddy, take care of Foxy—uh, both Freds, please. Attention!”

Cupping his hands over his mouth, Mike yelled to the crowd. “Flash photography is not permitted in the Pizzaplex! It damages the animatronics and then they can’t mingle with the public! Plus—” A rather threatening smile spread across his face. “—anyone caught disobeying the rules is subject to be fined for repair costs!”

“My goodness…,” Freddy 2.0 murmured as he and his counterpart moved to Foxy’s side. “He is rather, ah… ruthless, is he not?”

“He is good at his job, that is for certain,” Freddy responded with a laugh, finally latching onto the pirate’s shoulder and looking up at him. “Hello, Foxy; it is Freddy and… Freddy! Let us lead you into the backroom while you regain your sight and we can introduce you properly…”

Anyone at that point who had their phones out was quick to shove them away inside a purse or pocket. The kids watched as both Freddies came to help Foxy down from the large boat back to the ground floor. Foxy raised his hook in the air in agreement with the security guard.

“Yeah! My eyeballs are sensitive, ya scallawags!” he confirmed, nearly doing a double take at the two sets of arms. He hoped that through combined intimidation, Foxy and Mike cemented the rules yet again for the few misbehaving parents.

Charlie was surprised at the odd amount of inconsiderate mothers and fathers. It was as if this place brought out their inner children in the worst ways. She heard one say as she passed them to help guide Foxy backstage: “We paid—we should be able to take as many pictures as we want…”

Which made the normally calm and reserved Charlie inhale sharply through her nose. Mike had already explained the situation to them, but she did mention to the father in passing: “Interacting with animatronics when they’re stationed in their attractions is free, sir. You just can’t take flash photos of them; as our head of security said, it hurts them.”

Charlie found that she and the others had to hurry Foxy along as quickly as possible before she fought the guy, the attitude rolling off of him as he openly complained about the policy of the store. Though she tried her best to ignore everyone and focused solely on helping Foxy to the backrooms. Once inside, the pirate gently felt around for both Freddies—his heroes for helping him down.

“Freddy? Thank you for being my seeing-eye bear… And Human. Heh heh…” He chuckled gratefully to himself. The blinded fox reached around once they stopped to hug the animatronic, happy to finally meet the bear version of his dearest friend.  

“I am here to help anytime, Foxy,” the bear reassured, quick to hug him back. Though this was their first meeting, he too felt like they’d been friends for years. “It is so nice to make your acquaintance; I am happy Samuel brought you into the lineup!”

“These people…,” Michael grumbled as he slipped into the back rooms shortly after the others. “I swear, if there’s trouble the parents are worse than the kids most of the time.”

His thoughts echoed Charlie’s, and Freddy had to concede as well. Ironically, despite the kids usually being the ones to physically cling to the animatronics, it was often their guardians who got the most aggressive when things didn’t go their way.

“We can take a rest back here until you reset, Foxy,” Freddy reassured, patting the pirate’s hook arm before looking up to his bear counterpart. “Then perhaps we can roam the Pizzaplex and try to find the other animatronics?”

Foxy was feeling a might dizzy after the paparazzi-like flashing he received upon his public debut. Though he wouldn’t lie, the blatant harassment did make him feel like a rockstar. “Thanks for the help—my optics will reset fully in just a few, then I can go back to my adoring fans.”

He certainly sounded like Roxy’s brother—even if he shared the same voice as Security Guard Mike…

“Oh, Fred! If you see Roxanne, will you tell her I stole her comb? She’ll be angry, but just say it was important. I didn’t have a teasing comb and needed one badly.” Despite being unable to see, Foxy plumped his long mane up with his more articulate hand. Soon, he was blinking in time again, lights in his eyes turning off and on again to signal his full reset. “Thanks you all! I feel much better now!”

“I will do my best to spare you from Roxanne’s wrath,” the bear laughed, watching to make sure Foxy reset properly.

Michael was doing the same, observing even more closely. He rocked back on his heels with a satisfied smile with the fox blinked in the familiar pattern. “Perfect! Ready to go back out? Oh, and feel free to tell people off if they try to use flash again. Note their faces and names too, if you would.”

Foxy stood, amazingly balanced with one inarticulate peg leg. He straightened up and made sure to pat Freddy's shoulder on his way past the small group.

“Aye—we'll all catch up after closing,” he assured his ursine friend. Looking to Michael, Foxy relaxed some with the express permission to speak his mind, and a surprising amount of self-awareness considering his short lifespan so far inside the Pizzaplex. “It's indeed fortuitous that I'm equipped with a profanity filter, First Mate Mike...”

Charlie laughed at this, attempting to hide her mouth slightly. “Just getting their customer profiles should be enough, Foxy. If you get really mad, go take a break—play the drums a little.”

Foxy smiled appreciatively, thanking the little team before heading back out into his Cove. With arms opened wide, he'd kick the swinging door open to catch the attention of the kids. Their cheers could be heard from down the hall now.

“I'm down to help Freddy acclimate to the Pizzaplex again! Where do you wanna go first, big guy?” Charlie asked the rockstar bear.

“Hmm…,” Freddy hummed in thought, tilting his head as he shuffled through all the attractions and animatronics he could visit. He wanted to see everyone in time, but one name stuck out from the rest in order of preference. “I think I would like to visit Chica, if that is alright.”

He’d never claim to like anyone more than the others, though it was no secret there was something about the original quartet that just had a special bond those made for the Pizzaplex wouldn’t quite understand.

Charlie quickly checked her phone, looking over the downloaded work schedule for all the characters at the Pizzaplex. “Roxy's doing make up tutorial's in the Salon for another 40 minutes. That'll give us enough time to swing by Mazercise and Monty golf!”

In agreement, the group quickly hurried for the door before the kids noticed he was leaving. Following behind the bear and Michael, Freddy slipped his arm through Charlie’s and grinned down at her.

“I think this is going quite well, do you agree?” he murmured under his breath, leaning close as they stepped into the ambient noise of the Pizzaplex’s atrium. There was a hint of fondness in those ice blue eyes as Freddy gazed up at his double. “He seems to be performing without a hitch, all things considered…”

All things considered, Charlie wasn't surprised at how well Freddy was acclimating. He was an agreeable person too, happy to listen to the management of this place. It shouldn't have been such a huge change for the last updated version of Freddy anyway—to him, the Pizzaplex only made some management updates and additions to their character lineups.

“Agreed,” Charlie whispered back. “Hopefully he doesn't ask too many questions about Vanessa or Sammy's 'kids' showing up out of nowhere... not to mention, y'know—us."

Charlie always felt a little weird when lying. Though this was obviously for Freddy's best interest to keep him in the dark. Eventually, when things were a little calmer there might be a good time to explain things. For now, they would be tight-lipped and give politely neutral answers for hard to answer questions. She loosely held to Freddy's arm, happy to walk beside him through the backrooms and reveling in how much better the Pizzaplex looked with patrons to populate its fun-filled corridors.

Freddy had a feeling his counterpart wouldn't pry too much. Without anything to be concerned with, nor a ghost subconsciously whispering in the back of his mind, the robot was quite amenable to whatever changes management dictated appropriate. Arm in arm with one of his dearest friends and a soft smile on his face, Freddy trailed along after the animatronic bear as he reacquainted himself with the Pizzaplex.

***

Previous Chapter ~~ Next Chapter (Coming soon)

Looking for more? Check out the Chapter Masterlist on Tumblr!

Or check out the entire Wires that Bind Us Series on ao3!

#fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #fnaf #fnaf au #five nights at freddy's #michael afton #charlie emily #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #angelofrainfrogs #zeitghest #spend the night #going back #the wires that bind us au #gregory #glamrock freddy #glamrock foxy #glamrock bonnie #sammy emily

[justalilgoofball]

A little section from my new chapter

You refocused your gaze back onto the screen - a little pixelated character stood idly in the center of the “room.” It seemed to be some kind of… security guard? It was hard to make out due to how old the graphics were. But you thought you saw a little uniform on the character, as well as the flashlight it held.

A small smile appeared at your lips. Nostalgia hit you like a ton of bricks as you moved the little character around with the joystick and bounced it up and down. Familiar 8-bit sound effects echoed from the game and throughout the arcade.

“Alright, now where do I go?” It was somewhat hard to see the setting of the game, due to the large crack in the screen, but as far as you could tell, your character was in a maze-like building, and your objective was to find an exit. At least, you hoped that was the goal; if not, you were most likely going to lose the game quickly.

You wove through the web of hallways, studying each room as you entered them. It surprised you on how detailed each area of the game seemed to be - little secrets and “Easter eggs” could be found in each room, and victory music played with each new discovery. Your smile broadened as childhood memories were brought back with each new finding. You used to love games like this; yoy used to love finding every little secret possible.

As you progressed through the game, you noticed that the rooms became darker and darker, yet the game’s energetic atmosphere remained the same. The only other noticeable difference as you moved throughout the rooms, other than the lighting, was how secrets were becoming increasingly harder to find; instead of discovering about one per room, it became more like one per every 10 rooms.

You smiled slightly as you realized this must mean you were getting close to beating the game. Eventually, after a few minutes, you found that there were no more secrets to be discovered. You had searched each room top to bottom.

Your eyebrows knitted together. ‘Well, where’s the exit then.? You ran through the rooms again, once, twice, multiple times; there was no exit to be found. Your little character was trapped in the maze. Your confusion turned to frustration as you tried to find any way to beat the game.

“What the hell"?” You cocked your head to the side as suddenly, after minutes of nothingness, you found something different; one of the rooms you had just been in, now had a gaping hole in the floor. It looked like a trap door. You hesitantly led the security guard to the new path.

The cheerful music stopped. The lighting turned almost pitch black. All that could be seen was your character, their flashlight, and the barely visible set of stairs that lie before them.

Concern blossomed on your face as you placed your fingers back on the joystick and began to move the character forward. Footsteps echoed from the game and into the room you were in; the sound seemed to swallow you.

‘Weird.’ You bit on your cheek slightly as you continued moving forward… Or maybe downward was the better description. Minutes passed by, and you began to wonder if the staircase would ever end.

Finally, your character reached the bottom; a long hallway was your only path forward now. Now the game was nearly completely silent. There was no footsteps, no music, nothing like before. All you could hear was a faint buzzing sound.

Your character reached the end of the hallway. Finally, only a door stood in between you, and what you assumed must be the exit. Right before you were about to leave, though, you noticed the design of the door; it was… odd. Dim depictions of a Sun and a Moon were “etched” into the door, and in-between them was a golden, smiling mask. You were surprised at the level of detail, especially due to the game’s graphics and how old it was.

After studying the door for a few more seconds, you pressed your fingers back onto the joystick and shifted it forward. The door… didn't move. Nothing happened. You squinted your eyes and tried to press all of the buttons. Nothing. You tried moving back down the hallway. It was blocked.

“Damn, is the game broken?” You frowned and glanced around the game, looking for any kind of clue as to what you were supposed to do. This was obviously the exit, so why couldn’t you leav?

“Maybe there’s like a reset button or something,..” You looked at the sides of the console and ran your fingers along its edges. It was smooth: there was nothing to press. “Lord this game is getting on my nerves.” You rolled your eyes and began to back up out of the nook, preparing to leave once and for all, but just as you did, something caught your eye.

It was the game’s cord. It was lying right at your feet. It wasn’t plugged in.

Your eyebrows shot up. “What the…” You glanced back at the game. The screen was black

“Okay, I really need to leave now.” You began to back away, terrified and exhausted from the night’s events. Why were you so stupid? Why didn’t you make better choices? You stared at the machine, hesitating as you waited for some kind of explanation that would make this whole night make sense.

You shouldn’t have waited.

Suddenly, a few sparse pixels appeared on the display. You leaned forward - terrified, yet horribly curious.

“Please, don’t go. I can help you.”

#eclipse #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf #fnaf security breach #sundrop #five nights at freddy's #moondrop #eclipse fnaf #fnaf sun #fnaf eclipse

[join-anchorage]

ɪ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. ɪ ꜱʜᴏᴡᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴꜰɪɴɪᴛʏ. ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛ ɪᴛ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴇ. ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡᴀʟᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴀʀᴀɢᴇ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀʟᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴍɪɴᴇ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅ. ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴀɪꜱᴇ ᴇᴄʜᴏᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ. ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴠᴇ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ.

ANCHORAGE ALASKA — the missing don’t just stay missing: they’re replaced by something inhuman. mirrored in the likeness of those that went missing & stealing their identities, the unheavenly creatures carry out tasks as fables of the missing, nothing but trails of smoke in the night, like the legends they resembled: sirens, vampires, great serpents, & sprites. but years passed since the project was abandoned, and mysteries remain unanswered: the murder of willow iverson has haunted the town the past year. the town is preserved in a perpetual state of denial while killers run amuck. in this year’s brand new season, the misfit band of rejected miroirs are pitted against each other for survival and the hash-slinging slasher has resurfaced with the very first murder. everyone wants answers, and everyone’s being watched by their ventriloquists. ꜱᴍɪʟᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇʟᴇᴠɪꜱɪᴏɴ…

𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝟐 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐎𝐖 …

ANCHORAGE HQ is an appless interactive, psychological horror & slasher OC experience mixed with supernatural and crime. set in anchorage, alaska within a time paradox of the 1990s. the group’s plot is driven by decisions and connections formed by the writers, which may directly affect others and the overall outcome of the plot. inspirations this year from five nights at freddy’s: help wanted, the uncanny, renfield, slotherhouse, no one will save you & more.

HOME HERE.

#appless rp #lsrpg #oc rp #horror rp #town rp