#Freddy did not put everything into this role for us to let him down | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelofrainfrogs · 9 months

Text

Going Back: Ch. 6

~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

Michael’s heart dropped to his stomach. Out of all the missing children, it had to be Gregory’s parents that came calling?

The image on the poster was unmistakable—the spitting image of Evan, Gregory’s smiling face stared out at them with his formerly deep brown eyes. Although, Mike noted he seemed to have a little more baby fat in this picture than he did in real life. It was a small detail and certainly didn’t prevent anyone from recognizing the boy, but Mike wondered why they’d used a clearly out of date image for such a thing.

Based on everything Gregory had said or implied about his foster family, Michael didn’t trust this woman’s intentions one bit.

Samuel swallowed the lump in his throat. Yep, he’d seen this missing kid alright—the only one still alive, and who’d already been adopted by one of his formerly Glamrock stars. Sam glanced from the paper up to Rita, meeting her gaze with a practiced smile.

“Not to my recollection, no—however, my staff and I can review our footage from… Uh, when did you say he went missing?” Sammy asked, trying his best to be thorough with the lie. He’d learned how to craft a good poker face from his friend Michael as they grew up. Though Sammy didn’t feel good about lying to this woman, he had no choice at the moment. He passed the poster with the information to Charlie, who studied the page intently.

Gregory Smith

DOB: 08/08/2010

Last seen on wandering south side Hurricane. Any information regarding the case can be referenced with the local police department’s number listed below.

Leaning over, Charlie let Michael see the poster, unsure of how well she was hiding her true volatile emotions when thinking about Gregory being taken away from them.

There was a slight downwards twitch of Rita’s mouth at Sammy’s question. Her gaze shifted to the floor for only a second before returning to his face while she answered.

“July 5th. The last time the family saw him, he was walking with these twins from down the street.” She huffed a sigh, looking away again and shaking her head. “They’ve gone missing, too. I can only guess what trouble they led my sweet boy into…”

Michael clenched his jaw to keep from verbally lashing out. July 5th?! The date had just crept its way into August! No way they could’ve been looking for Gregory almost a month and not checked the mega mall every kid and their cousin hung out in whenever they could… Something just wasn’t adding up.

“We’ll be sure to keep an eye out, Mrs. Smith,” Mike managed to say eventually with a wry, bright-eyed look of barely-contained fury. It was an expression that said Michael was not to be trifled with, and anyone who dared risked his immediate wrath. Hopefully, Rita would take this as empathy for her lost child and determination to locate him.

“Ah, thank… thank you,” she said, almost flinching back at Michael’s face. Looking to Sammy again, she pulled out a folded-over sticky note from her jacket pocket and handed it to him. “You can keep the poster; here’s my personal number. If you find any information, please give me a call. We just want our boy home safe as soon as possible.”

Sammy and Michael pulling off their good cop, bad cop routine seemed to keep the mom from asking too many questions. Charlie was simply trying to hold back from asking how she knew her “sweet boy” wasn’t dead by now?

To not sound the alarm for the better part of four weeks… Were they just hoping Gregory fell off the face of the planet?

Charlie was willing to bet they were asking questions around town now in light of the random Pizzaplex shutdown. That inevitably brought the conversation of missing kids to the forefront, and surely people were curious as to where the twins had gone—where nine damn children disappeared to. With the security cameras having been “faulty” or completely turned off from their scheduled recording thanks to a glitch in the system, there would thankfully be no proof that the children, including Gregory, were ever here.

Samuel carefully took the note, committing the number to memory before folding it back up to set inside his own jacket pocket. “Yes, Mrs. Smith—and on behalf of the company, I give you our condolences. I'm sure you'll find your son soon; boys run away all the time...”

He downplayed the situation's severity, feeling somewhat sick as he lied. It felt wrong to just tell someone they would find their "missing" kid eventually when Sam knew where he was at that very moment.

Is this how William felt when he spoke to these distraught parents face to face?

No, Samuel thought, swallowing the bile in his throat. If that monster felt this way, he wouldn't have done what he did in the first place.

“Thank you,” Rita said, offering Sammy a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She looked to Charlie and Michael with the same sad expression, then to everyone’s relief turned to leave. “We’ll be in touch.”

To Michael’s credit, he waited until the woman made it out the front doors before losing his cool.

“Almost a fucking month he’s been gone?!” he hissed, turning to the Emilys with fire in his eyes. “What the hell have they been doing this whole damn time?!”

They’d been neglectful to the kid—that had been obvious from his appearance and the little details Gregory let slip out. But this was a whole other level. To not sound the alarm that your child was missing after a day was suspicious enough, let alone randomly kicking up the search after all this time. And so close to Gregory’s birthday, too… It made Michael queasy to think about what Gregory must’ve gone through at the hands of these people.

“We can’t let them take him, Sammy. That woman is bad news—I just know it.” Deflating slightly, he thought aloud: “Shit, what are we going to tell him and Freddy? They’re going to be upset…”

“That lady's a stone cold bitch,” Charlie snapped, glaring at the door after Rita’s departure. Though she liked to believe the best in people at heart, there was something wicked about her that Charlie could practically smell. Maybe it was the way Rita withheld information about Gregory, or how she never thought to check or call the Pizzaplex the weeks her son had been missing. “There's no way you're going to rat on him, right?”

“No—absolutely not. Gregory's not going back with her. God, she doesn't even care. You can tell...” Sam spoke with a manner of disgust in his voice, not entirely able to believe his own words. “Can you imagine what’d happen if we sent that poor kid back with her? He could wind up on drugs, or out on the street! Or, god forbid—”

Dead. For good.

Rita was the kind of mom that didn't care when you scrapped your knee, or whether you had a mysteriously dry cough. Ironically, Gregory would be worse off in the care of a mother who had no maternal instincts than the mechanical bear designed to be a rockstar...

“We'll be gentle and assure them we have a plan,” Charlie said, squeezing Michael’s hand and making Samuel tilt his head curiously at his sister.

“We have a plan?” he asked, making his twin shrug in turn.

“No,” Charlie replied with a lopsided grin. “But we'll think of one! We just can't have either of them stressing about it. Alright?”

“Agreed,” Mike said with a nod, returning the hand squeeze. He spared one last look at Rita as she hopped in her car and drove off, sneering at her back. Then he took a deep breath, gathering himself before heading back to the Daycare.

Once everyone had composed themselves, they returned to the cheerful, rainbow-studded room. The irony they’d have to deliver such unpleasant news in this place didn’t escape Michael. Of course, Sun spotted them as soon as they entered, always attuned to the sound of the door and the arrival of new guests.

“They’re back!” the cheery animatronic announced, waving to the trio. He was quick to make his way over to the door, eagerly wanting to spend as much time with his new friends and his good pal Sammy as he could. Freddy, Gregory, and Ennard weren’t far behind, soon crowded around Sun just in time for Michael and the Emilys to walk into the play area.

“Wow—did you guys really miss us that much?” Michael joked, ruffling Gregory’s hair while taking in the sight of the little crowd. He’d managed to plaster on a semi-convincing smile—at least enough not to immediately alert the others of anything amiss.

Mike may be able to fool people, but where Samuel could lie out of his ass to strangers, just like his sister he wore his emotions on his sleeve to those he was close to. Unable to help the frown settling in, Sam kept his head turned from the kid who seemed to stare right into his soul.

“OF COURSE WE MISSED YOU,” Ennard remarked, closing in as Gregory scrutinized the group. Charlie gingerly patted Ennard’s mask as they leaned towards her and Mike.

Gregory stood with his arms crossed. The mood was off. He didn't know why, but the group was hiding something. It was becoming increasingly obvious as Samuel rubbed his neck and cleared his throat.

“So—gang, uh... I have some news to break to you all. Just know that it's no cause for alarm.” He started off gently, as per Charlie's advice. This sent a shiver of worry down Gregory's spine, only looking fully panicked once Samuel asked him directly: “Son, tell me... Do you know a Rita Smith?”

For all they knew, this could be a total stranger trying to cash in on a payout of finding their “lost kid.” It was a disgusting tactic, but unfortunately wouldn’t be the first time the old CEO had seen it. Only in this case, Sam was hoping this was true.

Now it was Gregory's turn to lie.

“Huh? Rita who? Pft. I don't... know anyone named that. Dumb name if you ask me...” Gregory scoffed, pushing his emotions under the figurative bed with the mention of that dreaded, loathsome person. He suddenly turned on his heel, facing the Pizzaplex that’d become his new home with all its fun attractions. Now that he made it safe in here, there was no reason to face the danger out there.

“This conversation’s boring; let's play more, guys!” Gregory urged, starting off for the jungle gym.

“Gregory, wait.” Freddy's tone was soft but commanding as he expertly snagged the collar of Gregory's shirt, holding him in place. His gaze swiveled between the boy and his surrogate siblings, a distinct crease of worry between his brows. Rather than chiding him for lying about a topic that was obviously distressing, Freddy turned his attention to the adults. “What is going on?”

“Well... like Sam said, don't worry,” Michael began, trying to quell the rising tension. Even Sun seemed nervous, wringing his hands together and somehow already knowing this conversation was beyond his current level of understanding. “But that woman Vanessa mentioned? That was Rita Smith. She's looking for her kid.” At this, his gaze flickered to Gregory, and suddenly Freddy understood.

“Gregory's mother?” Freddy questioned, his voice straining ever-so-slightly. He shifted his grasp from the boy's shirt to his shoulders, pulling Gregory in to lean against his leg. It was a poignantly protective gesture, clearly showing Freddy's need to keep him safe at all times. Looking down at the boy in question, Freddy asked gently: “Is she really your foster mother? Please, superstar, you can tell us the truth—you know we only want to protect you.”

As all eyes watched Gregory with pleading stares to open up, he glanced away. He was soothed by Freddy's gesture of protection, keeping him caged in by his arms where he felt it was safest to tell the truth.

“…Fine. Yeah, I lived in her house with her husband and their kids. She’s got two of her own, but I’m the only adopted one. She's no mother,” Gregory said with a look of distain and hatred that Charlie certainly never saw before. At Gregory's ankles the Puppet imparted a hug, as she could tell that the poor kid really didn't care to speak on it. It was painful, but they needed to know what was happening. Gregory took in a deep breath and continued.

“I lived there for, like... two years now? No one else wanted me from the foster home; the Smiths were the only people that kept me for more than a few months. I can't—c-can’t even remember my stupid birth parents... Just them. Their ugly faces—” Gregory sniffled, hands clenching at his sides until his knuckles were an icy white, nails digging deep into his palms to ground himself as he felt anger rising. “Their stupid real kids and that ugly fucking house—”

The poor boy was shaking now. He was submitted to neglect and heartache there that no child should have to endure.

“Gregory...,” Charlie chided gently, knowing he was upset but that those words would distress Sun in turn. Ennard already had them covered by folding their hands over where Sun should have ears, were he a real person. “We won't let her get you. I—we promise you that.”

Sun had let out a little gasp at Gregory's harsh curses, but to everyone's surprise otherwise kept his mouth shut. His protocol to protect and comfort the child far outweighed any coding that would make him lecture the boy for swearing. However, despite his intense desire to pick Gregory up and hug him close, he reasoned it best to step back and let the others discuss. To keep himself from reaching out he wrapped his arms around Ennard, keeping a tight grip on the amalgamation as he watched the others with a worried tilt of his head.

“She, nor anyone from that household will ever lay a finger on you, Gregory,” Freddy said with resolute determination. The mere thought of a child being mistreated was enough to enrage the normally-docile bear, so the fact this was his boy who'd suffered at the hands of these horrendous people made him want to march right to them and give him a piece of his mind. Instead, he lifted Gregory into his arms and hugged him close. “You are my son and nothing is going to change that. I will always keep you safe, and so will everyone in this room.”

Were his words a bit possessive? Maybe... but no one was in a position to knock Freddy for wanting to protect Gregory with every fiber of his being.

It was a fierce sensation, to love someone so much you'd risk everything to keep them safe—but to Michael, it was also a familiar one. It's what he'd been doing for decades after all, spurred on by the desire to right his wrongs and make up for the protection he couldn't provide before.

This case was no different. Rita and her family might not be possessed animatronics or murderous, British mechanics, but they meant Gregory harm... and that was something Michael absolutely couldn't stand.

“We'll figure something out,” he reassured, stepping closer to wrap his arms around the embracing pair. “You're safe with us.”

Charlie saw how frightening Freddy could be at the mere thought of someone taking his son away. As perturbed as that made her, she understood the obligation and love the animatronics had for children in the first place when programmed correctly. Her Puppet for example: it was designed with its first default function to protect anyone with a green bracelet should its facial recognition fail. In the event that she might be hurt, the robot was designed to even ruin itself to keep Charlotte safe.

“I already have a plan,” Gregory murmured, his thoughts becoming sharper with his anger. Even so, Gregory could get himself to stop shaking as floods of awful memories attacked his psyche. “And... I’ll need Cassidy's and the other ghosts’ help. We’re gonna scare Rita and Terry so hard they’ll crap blood.”

Charlie made a face at the crass wording, though she supposed it was par for the course for boys his age. She'd certainly heard Michael say way, way worse by the time they were teenagers.

“Gross—but so far, I'm loving the plan,” she answered with a laugh.

“Me too,” Michael said, fully on board with anything that involved scaring horrendous parents. “We'll get them off your tail for sure.”

“Let us not be too hasty,” Freddy warned gently, his own spike of anger fading in light of the shift in tone. It was all well and good for the adults to make the threat go away, but when it came to children—even immortal and undead ones—Freddy was hesitant to put them in the potential line of fire. Still, he had to reason that their help might not just be beneficial, but necessary for such a monumental task as making foster parents go away.

“Come on, Freddy,” Michael couldn't help but groan, looking at the former bear imploringly. “Having them all help out would be super useful!”

“Oh no, do not misunderstand—I am not opposed to the idea,” Freddy clarified, his bright eyes meeting Michael's. “I simply meant that we need to discuss things in depth before we put any plan into action.”

Mike patted his back warmly, pleasantly surprised the former animatronic had been so easily convinced to do something that involved messing with humans in a non-friendly way. He couldn't help but wonder if there was still a little bit of his rebellious disposition snagged in Freddy's personality chip, even after moving to a new body...

“Um, I... I'm sorry to say I don't think I can help much with this situation,” Sun piped up in an unusually soft voice. He'd let go of Ennard to clasp his hands in front of his chest, looking between the humans. “But I still want to do something! So... feel free to use the Daycare as a safe space to rest, or regroup, or plan, or... whatever you need! Oh—as long as Sammy's okay with that, of course.”

He tilted his head, static eyes fixed on the rather gaunt CEO. “Are you okay, Sammy?”

“C... Cassidy?” The crew turned to Samuel, who seemed to shake at the thought of more than just the Afton children and his father haunting the Pizzaplex. “You all never told me—how many kids are...? Oh man...”

A clammy hand clasped over Samuel's mouth as the bile rose through the pit that formed in his stomach. Sam wobbled a little, but Ennard was fast in helping the CEO to sit on the floor. Charlie bit at her nails, hurrying to her brother’s side. She hadn’t yet tried to explain what had happened in that nearly inaccessible backroom.

“Hey,” Charlie reached out for him “It's fine—”

Flinching away, Samuel looked to Charlie and asked his sister “—Fine? Charlie there's more dead children I didn't know about and you're telling me things are fine? I mean—fuck, I guess I knew deep down but—”

His voice never raised, but wobbled with sadness as Charlie fretted over her mistake of not telling him right away. Samuel tried to square his breathing before speaking again.

“I... I don't know. Sure, if those ghosts want to help—let them help Gregory. The poor kid needs it,” he conceded, merely needing to come to terms with the idea that there were plenty of ghosts haunting this place that prevented him from truly escaping the past.

Gregory could see why the man was upset, and told him: “It's going to be okay, Sam. Trust me—I mean, Charlie and Mike are ghosts, and they're pretty happy people. Right, guys?”

“God, Sam, I... I'm sorry,” Michael apologized, sinking down to the floor next to his old friend. To everyone but Samuel the concept of ghost children running around was merely a sad but inevitable fact. Mike was so used to the idea that he'd forgotten poor Sammy had only become aware of the true horror of Fazbear Entertainment's past the day prior... Honestly, Michael was amazed this latest revelation hadn't caused a full-on breakdown. His friend had gotten so strong over the years, despite everything.

“We should've told you sooner,” he admitted, placing a hesitant hand on Sammy's back, almost afraid he might reject the gesture. When he wasn't shoved off, Michael gave his friend a little smile and shook him gently. “But Gregory's got a point—Charlie and I are technically ghosts too, but we're okay. And what about your dad? You wouldn't even know he's one; he's just like his old self!”

There was a pause in which Michael's expression shifted to something unintelligible, and then he added in a soft voice: “Look, I've been chasing after ghosts since I was a kid. I know which ones are happy and which ones are vengeful, and trust me—the ones we've encountered in the Pizzaplex so far definitely lean towards the nicer side of spirits... Everything's going to be okay. We'll figure it out.”

We'll figure it out...

It was the mantra of his childhood. For a moment, Sam was transported somewhere far and distant. A time passed so long ago it felt like he was watching it inside of an old analogue television set. With every tragedy Samuel faced, he was met with the same philosophy.

Things never exactly turned out fine. Far from it, actually. Sam was so tired of all the cursed blood attached to the Fazbear IP. Tragedy was sure to follow whatever establishment bore the franchise name.

“I'm not mad, you guys. Or scared... I'm sad. It's not right what he did. I... I think I need to sleep. Yeah... Sun? Be a doll and lower the lights?” Samuel could feel a migraine coming on, and thought he should rest. “Know that the Pizzaplex is at your disposal however you need, guys. And the kids? As long as they're good, they’re free to visit, too.”

It clearly bummed Samuel out to think of them as dead. The survivor’s guilt triggering once again, and feeling like he had unintentionally trapped these children by making another death trap for William to build around.

Before completely falling into unconsciousness, Sam had enough wherewithal to lift his walkie and murmur into the mic: "Vanessa? Can you hang tight for another hour or so? I got a little held up."

"I don't really have anywhere else to go, so sure," the former night guard crackled back through the static.

Luckily, Gregory's little pillow cloud hadn't yet been disassembled. Sun cared for all the employees at the Pizzaplex, but he had a soft spot for the ever-tired CEO and was always glad to let Sam rest in his protective care. He was at the light switch in a few long strides, flipping it down with deft fingertips that would soon shift from white to blue as he instinctually ducked behind the desk to hide his transformation. Michael couldn't help but let out a soft huff at this, curious as ever to see what exactly happened to the Daycare attendant when darkness fell. For the moment though, he was content to let Sammy rest against him, rubbing his upper arm soothingly as he held him in a side hug.

“I'll take him from here,” Moon's low voice rasped. The second Michael released Sam, Moon was quick to lift him up to cradle him like a child, ignoring whatever protests the CEO might make as he was carried over to the fluffy cloud of comfort. He placed Sammy directly in the center, giving his head the gentlest of pats before stepping back. Moon's faintly-glowing eyes settled on the rest of the group as he told them: “I'll watch over Sammy, don't worry—you all should rest as well. We'll see you tomorrow, after all, ehehehe...”

“...Right,” Mike replied, getting to his feet with a sigh. He hated leaving Sammy in such a state, but it was getting late and he wanted to make a good impression tomorrow morning.

“Thank you, Moon—we greatly appreciate it. Have a good night,” Freddy said, still carrying Gregory as he gave the attendant a gentle smile, then made his way for the door with the others not far behind.

“Night, guys,” called out Sammy. Despite his chagrin, Moon was quick to put Samuel to bed. Sam didn't know if he’d have pleasant dreams, however—so tonight he was more inclined to talk with Moon until he grew too tired to speak.

When Gregory went to walk away with his family, Puppet's protective arms seemed to tangle up the kid's legs. She didn't want Gregory to go—what if that lady they were talking about found him? She was going to hurt Gregory, Puppet knew it. Unfortunately she couldn't communicate any of this, and Gregory bent at the waist to hug her.

“I'll be back tomorrow, Puppet.” Gregory smiled before easily relocating the Marionette, making her wring her hands together nervously.

Gregory hadn't realized the same was happening to Michael; Ennard practically breathed down the back of their “friend’s” neck as they followed him across the playground floor. As Gregory trailed after his dad, he was pretty sure he overheard Sam asking if Ennard was made out of ripped up carpeting and old endos, hoping his friend the Moon would know. Gregory snickered to himself at Sam's confusion, the only thing that could cheer him up in the moment.

“Ennard, stop,” Michael said upon realizing the animatronic was not going to back off on their own.

Even after all the time they'd spend together, it would be a lie to say Mike was at peace with Ennard—or frankly even that he was fully comfortable in their presence. That wasn't going to happen for quite a while, if ever, though it certainly wasn't for lack of trying on Ennard's part. There was simply too much residual trauma lurking in the depths of Michael's mind to process that the creature could truly not be a threat to him in some capacity.

Still, the fact that the rest of his family seemed content enough in Ennard's presence did ease Mike a little. He was able to resist the urge to lash out as he used to, even managing to lower his voice into a normal, almost understanding tone as he added: “I'll be fine. So will everyone else, okay? Just chill and stay out of people's sight while we're gone.”

Instead of turning on his heel and leaving immediately, Michael crossed his arms over his chest and waited for a response. Coupled with his raised eyebrow and stern expression, it looked like he was trying to explain object permanence to a child who hadn't grasped the concept yet, instead of telling a years-old conglomeration of metallic wires and AI that their friends would return to play another night.

It made sense in theory. And Ennard knew they could easily overpower Michael and keep him there with them if they really wanted to. It would be easy. Though that wasn't the type of person Michael could stand to be around, it seemed.

Sometimes doing things the right way was worth it in the long run, they'd learned.

“GOODBYE, EGG,” they said like a secret joke between the two of them. Maybe one day Mike could appreciate the typo as much as they could. Ennard opened their arms, waiting for a hug—though, as Sun explained it once, sometimes people just don’t want to be touched. Ennard wouldn't hold it against Michael should he choose to just leave—they never really blamed the former night guard anyway.

“Oh, for fu—” Michael caught himself just in time to avoid activating Moon and Freddy's swearing protocols at once. With a heavy roll of his eyes, Mike uncrossed his arms to let them hang loosely at his sides. He looked up at Ennard with a scathing expression, surprised they even thought Michael would hug them at this point.

The pair stared each other down before Michael oh-so-slowly raised a hand. It looked like he was about to smack the robot, but he simply gave the back of Ennard's left hand one single, swift pat.

“Alright, let's go,” he said quickly, turning his back on the amalgamation and leading the charge out of the Daycare.

To Ennard, there was no way of misinterpreting that response: he and Mike were indeed “besties,” as Sun would say. In Ennard’s twisted head, that was undisputed.

As they reached the exit Gregory squinted through the tinted glass doors, concerned people he knew would be waiting for him outside. There was no convincing him that the outside was totally safe, so Charlie lifted Gregory up and held him in a way that made it easier to bury his face away in her shoulder. Gregory had voiced that hiding his features made him feel a little more hidden as the family traveled onward back to their paid room. As Charlie hauled their precious cargo back to their temporary home, she asked Gregory what he wanted for dinner.

“Pizza…,” he replied in a forlorn fashion.

Charlie would shake her head and suggested gently: “Maybe something different? You ate a lot of pizza recently, kiddo.”

It was clear Gregory needed variety in his diet. Who knows how they used to feed him at his old house anyway judging by his eating habits…

“How about a salad?” Freddy offered, though he had a feeling this option wouldn't go over well. Sure enough, Michael scoffed at the very notion.

“Geez, Freddy, I thought you were supposed to be a nice robot—don't torture the kid!” he griped, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I am doing no such thing,” Freddy replied with slightly narrowed eyes. “Vegetables are a healthy part of a balanced diet, and Gregory certainly needs one.”

“Yeah, but a salad?” Michael shook his head, then looked to Gregory and Charlie for their opinions. “What do you guys think? Salads for everyone, yay or nay?”

Charlie would probably agree with Freddy, even if she could stand to eat anything unhealthy for days at a time considering it would never affect her health. Gregory answered first shrugging it off.

“Salads are fine—as long as they have grilled chicken or those ham and cheese wheel things!” he said, hoisted up better into Charlie’s arms as she chuckled at him.

“Little carnivore... I’m sure we can find something good on the menu,” she added as they entered the parking lot area of the tourist trap hotel.

Despite Michael’s earlier protestations, he made no qualms when it actually came time to order—like Charlie, he realized the value of getting something green in Gregory’s system that wasn’t Monty-themed Fizzy Faz. While Charlie was on the phone, Michael took the opportunity to snatch Gregory up the second his feet touched the ground and toss him onto the couch, eliciting a surprised laugh.

“So, Freddy,” Michael began. “You never actually told us what Henry said about us eating.”

“To be frank… Henry does not quite understand what is happening either," Freddy replied, perching on the couch as well.

Michael tilted his head with a downturn of his lips. “…What do you mean?”

“He and Samuel opened up my body and looked around, but there was no evidence of me having eaten anything,” Freddy explained. “It was as if the food simply disappeared into thin air. I brought up the concept of converting it to energy like normal humans do, which Henry said made sense… if he designed that capability, which he did not.”

Freddy gave a little shrug, bright eyes filled with wonder and mirth. “Henry said, and please excuse my language as this is a direct quote: ‘Whatever is happening is a freaking supernatural miracle!’”

Hearing Freddy say something considered crude by the animatronics standards left Charlie in a fit of giggles. She held her stomach as Gregory burst into laughter as well—though he did have to force it some even if he was genuinely happy. When he'd heard Rita’s name, Gregory felt as though he was slipping back into the notion he wouldn’t be safe anywhere. Wherever he went, it was as if people were out to get him. The fact his foster parents even noticed that he was gone both astonished and scared him.

“That’s good, though! You can still eat burgers and try a bunch of new stuff!” Gregory would encourage, reclining back with his big brother.

Charlie was a little more skeptical. “It’s just gone? Inexplicably?”

It was just so peculiar to her. And yes, Charlie could definitely see how the supernatural murder victim thinking their robot vessel strange was a pot calling a kettle black, but her point still stood.

“Like your dad said—it’s a miracle! Nothing’s wrong so there’s no need to worry. Maybe it’s like… Magic, you know?” Gregory suggested. It wasn’t unlikely, given this crew’s eclectic circumstances.

“I would like to think so,” Freddy said with a smile, never one to quash a child’s imagination.

Besides—what else could it be, really? He used to be a huge, animatronic bear that worked from a knowledge bank of databases and logical thinking. Now, his consciousness had been transferred into a scarily humanlike android that reflected his scarily humanlike personality... Plus, his son was immortal and his other surrogate children were literal ghosts in their machines. Who’s to say there wasn’t a bit of magic floating around in the universe as well?

***

The night was blissfully uneventful, at least by their standards. To work off Gregory's burst of adrenaline and food-fueled energy, the group visited the arcade and spent a good while facing off against each other in various games. Even Freddy joined in on some, though his AI gave him a weird knack for being almost too good, making him step back in deference to letting the others enjoy the games in his stead. He much preferred to keep a watchful eye on his family anyway.

Once returned to the room, the group showered and prepared for bed, then chatted a while longer about happy plans for the future until Gregory drifted off to sleep, followed shortly thereafter by Michael and Charlie. Freddy still hadn't gotten used to the concept, but even he managed to doze for a few minutes here and there.

At some point during the day Michael slipped out to meet Sammy, leaving a note on the kitchen table to let the others know where he'd gone. He suggested it best for them to wait until nightfall to join him due to the recent development with Gregory's foster parents, and no one put up a fight to this. When darkness fell over the town the group set out, one of Gregory's hands in Freddy's while Charlie held the other.

“Hey!” Michael greeted them just inside the front doors of the Pizzaplex, seeming rather chipper. He was still dressed in casual clothes, although the disheveled state of his hair and grease-stains on his shirt and face indicated he'd been hard at work helping Sammy fix up some animatronics. “I missed you guys! How was life without me for a day?”

“Charlie and me hung out at the arcade and we built a pillow fort with Freddy!” Gregory recalled, abandoning his father’s and Charlie’s hand to give Michael a hug. Ushering them further inside, almost for fear of someone recognizing Gregory from the many more missing children posters she’d noticed now that she was allowed outside, Charlie agreed with a nod.

“We left it up—mostly because there’s a back to back marathon of Immortal and the Restless on later and I wanted Gregory to see the first episode,” she planned. It was weird but welcomed to see Michael back at it with the mechanic work.

Down one of the staircases Samuel jogged with a shopping bag in hand. He looked a lot happier than when they left; he’d really needed that nap after the horrible news he'd received.

“Gather ‘round, you guys. It’s present time!” he called enthusiastically, barely able to contain the surprise he had in store for them. “I went out and thought I’d get you guys something useful. I think you’re going to like the colors I picked out.”

“That is very kind of you, Samuel,” Freddy responded, settling himself at the man's side and giving the CEO a warm smile. “You have already done so much for us...”

“And we're eternally grateful for everything,” Michael added quickly, flashing his old friend a grin. “So what's in the bag?”

“Check it out! I got us a family plan!” From the white shopper’s bag Sam produced a dark green rectangle, first presenting it to Charlie. She gladly took the gift, looking happy—even though she was completely lost on what it was, exactly. It looked expensive though.

“You get one—here Michael, I got you the black one, and Freddy gets a red one!” Samuel had taken the liberty to plugging in the SIM cards, but left the personalization up them. “We should have each other’s numbers already synced, too. So now we can always be in touch.”

Looking up to Sam, Gregory pulled on his shirt with a bullishly bright stare. “What color’s mine?”

“Uh… Sorry, kid, you’re still a little too young,” Sam said, silently breaking Gregory’s heart. Though he dug inside the bag anyway with an air of excitement. “Aw, don’t look so sad—of course I didn’t forget to get you something, too. Here’s your present!”

Into Gregory’s hands, a little digital drawing tablet in a bright blue case was entrusted. It wasn’t a phone, but Gregory was still appreciative as he flashed Sam another bright smile. “Thank you!”

“Holy crap!” Michael exclaimed, not even feeling Freddy's quick glare due to the shock of receiving such a gift. “Sam, these are like... are these the latest models?!” Upon Sammy's nod, Mike blinked a few times, before reverently pressing the phone to his chest and pulling his friend in for a brief but meaningful hug.

Freddy was turning his own device over in his hand, letting out a little “oh!” as the screen suddenly lit up, nearly blinding him with its brightness. Unsure of how to make it stop, he simply flipped the phone over so the display faced the floor, where it turned off a few seconds later. When Freddy tentatively raised it back up, he was blinded yet again. Sure, he'd seen a million of these things during his time as a rockstar, but handling one himself was a new experience.

“Freddy, you can adjust that!” Michael laughed, quickly moving over to help as he saw the former bear's confusion. Slipping his own phone in a pants pocket for the time being, he took Freddy's and began walking him through how to set up his account profile, then adjust the light and sound settings. He spared a quick glance at Charlie, but by the look on her face Michael knew she'd require a lot more time and guidance to get her up to speed...

With a start, Mike realized that while he'd been gallivanting about the real world and keeping up with the times, all Charlie's exposure to technology had been confined to the Pizzerias—more specifically, the animatronics within. The last time she'd really interacted with a cell phone had been the 80s... No wonder she looked completely lost. God, Evan and Lizzie's eyes were going to bug out of their heads when they saw these things, too.

“Oh! Mine’s lighting up when I move it…,” Charlie said, confused when she touched the screen, only to have the screen say hello. Wondering about the capabilities of this square robot’s AI, she greeted with a cheerful: “Oh… Hi! My name’s Charlie.”

Gregory snickered, shaking his head. “Nooo, Charlie it can’t really understand you. It’s AI can only remember stuff you tell it to remember.”

Charlie would shrug, hugging her brother as repayment for the gift. “Thank you for the… The uh—” Charlie had to admit now that she didn’t know what exactly her brother gave to her, but it was pretty and green—her favorite color.

“It’s a cellphone, you goof!” Samuel laughed, patting his sister’s back as he knew she really did mean that she loved her gift, despite ignorance on what it really did. “I figured they'd work better than walkie talkies. Plus, Mike deserves it for helping me go the extra mile today—Freddy, I know I promised you I’d find Bonnie and fix him up…” Samuel began, though the look on Freddy’s face made it apparent that he knew just what the man was going to tell him.

“You did not...,” Freddy whispered, looking to Michael for confirmation. After all they'd been through, he thought Mike would want to avoid any contact with Bonnie for the foreseeable future.

Though they all knew it was William's soul controlling the normally-friendly rabbit to make him say and do such horrible things, Freddy would've been completely understanding if Michael never wanted to lay eyes on Glamrock Bonnie again. He was already out of the lineup, so while Freddy would've been sad at the confirmation his best friend was well and truly gone, he would have accepted it. But now, Sammy was implying something completely different...

“We did,” Michael replied, expression soft and understanding. As blue eyes met blue, Michael hoped his unspoken feelings would translate to the kind-hearted bear.

He'd been resistant to the idea of recommissioning Bonnie so soon, but Sammy had convinced him that if everyone else could get their old friends back from the dead, Freddy deserved to have his, too. With a smile, Michael clapped a hand on Freddy's shoulder and squeezed. “He's still got to go through a lot of tests before we can consider letting him out on the floor—extra precaution, and all that—but we managed to get him online about an hour before you guys showed up. He's hanging out in the bowling alley as we speak.”

“Oh my goodness... Michael, Samuel, I—I do not know what to say,” Freddy admitted, his last words muffled as he pressed a hand over his mouth, trying to keep his emotions in check. The first and only time he'd ever cried was when he initially left the Pizzaplex, but as his vision blurred with the realization that Bonnie was okay, Freddy wondered if this was about to be his second experience with his own falling tears.

This pure act of love and selflessness had brought tears to Charlie’s eyes as well. When she saw the telltale lip wobble of someone else about to sob, she looked to Michael and pressed back her own. “I can’t believe how fast you guys fixed him!”

Samuel would snort at that, fixing his oil-smudged glasses. “Oh his programming was a mess! Just completely jailbroken—I had to wipe the endo and start over from his last saved data point. Took hours. The body wasn't too damaged, though; just needed some touch-ups and a few replacements. Bon seems fine now, but Michael’s right. Gotta test him before he’s debuted again.”

There was sadly no room for him in rockstar row right at the moment. But Bonnie Bowl was the place that the old bunny happily took up residency for the time being. With a smile, Sam patted Freddy’s shoulder. “Want to go see him, Fredbear?”

Charlie reached out to hold Freddy’s hand, shaking it excitedly and subconsciously encouraging him to shake off the tears. Tonight had started off great, despite the hiccup in their happiness they had the previous day.

Freddy nodded without hesitation, rubbing at his face with a sleeve. Thankfully, Charlie caught him just in time to stop any liquid from escaping, and a bright, eye-crinkling smile settled on Freddy's face.

“Yes, please,” he replied to Sammy, then held out a hand to Gregory. “Superstar, Bonnie is going to love you.”

“Oh yeah, that's for sure,” Michael confirmed, crossing his arms as the group began moving to the bowling alley as one. “He's super friendly—it's no wonder he and Freddy get along so well.”

If Gregory could push the violence that Monty and Moon forced upon him far from his mind, then he was positive that he could get along great with Bonnie, too. This was Freddy’s best friend. There was no other animatronic he could trust Gregory with more now that Bon was in the right mind.

Freddy chuckled, feeling like he was about to overflow with joy. The situation with Gregory's foster parents was a blot of darkness in their lives that they'd need to address sooner rather than later, but at least for the moment he could pretend like everything was alright... Like things were back to normal.

A new normal—and a much better one, in Freddy's opinion.

***

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!

4 notes · View notes

catflowerqueen · 2 years

Text

Thinking about some future scenes for later entries into my "Snapshots of Mars and His Satellites" series (I'm hoping to do at least two more, thought it is now firmly into the "canon divergence" side of things because I'm pretty much ignoring most of the Bloodmoon stuff and the way I had Eclipse get defeated has already been hinted at being a lot different--though i still do want to integrate new info from the show where I can).

Spoilers below:

I already alluded to Glamrock Freddy's first visit back to the Daycare once everything went down, and that's one of the things I really want to dig into--specifically Sun's reaction, since his reasoning for being there digs into a lot of sore spots.

To put it simply: His reasoning for being there is that management/Chica keeps informing him of various noise complaints--which happen to be due to Sun (and Monty) renovating Moon's room as per "Contemplations." Unfortunately, Freddy happens to come to the daycare right when they have finally managed to coax Moon into turning off to charge in that un-decorateable alcove, and Freddy waking Moon up to try and get to the bottom of the noise complaints results in a panic attack and Lunar having to force himself into the front to prevent Moon from ripping out the wires on the back of his head.

Freddy, at this point, does not know about Lunar's existence, since he pretty much forgot about that little introduction Lunar gave him in his debut episode(s).

While this does result in Lunar getting to use Sun's little "Security alert" line from the game in order to get his attention, it also means Sun is going to be even more angry at Freddy than he already was.

...Anyways, the point of all this is that one of the lines that is stuck in my head for Sun to say to Freddy while tensions are high is a demand of "Why did you leave him (meaning Moon) alone with me?!"

Because that's honestly one of the things that would tick Sun off the most, in the end. He doesn't blame them for not wanting to be around him, since Eclipse was dangerous and had already proven that he could take over without warning and be sneaky, and Freddy had a son--a literal human child whom Sun would be programmed to give some priority to himself, even as he finds Gregory in particular to be mildly annoying--and Roxanne to think about. It makes sense that they would be wary of Sun, even though they didn't blame him for Eclipse's actions.

But despite knowing how dangerous Eclipse was, despite the fact that they'd seen him mess with one of Sun's close friends, despite the fact that Freddy himself was later witness to Eclipse doing the exact same thing to Moon--they still left Moon alone with him, without offering him any sort of protection outside of the vague possibility that maybe Golden Freddy could help. And even that came with the caveat that Golden Freddy rarely actually leaves his house.

...Also Lunar gets to be the once to call Freddy out on being a bad friend, which is sweet in its own way since it lets Lunar take on the role of protector, for once.

#snapshots of mars and his satellites #my writing #fanfiction #spoilers #sun and moon show #SAMS #fnaf security breach

9 notes · View notes

madcatdaderpydrawer-blog · 3 years

Note

Actually crying omg can you do a little more on moon getting betrayed by Gregory?

I did get a couple of ideas for this scenario so I'll share them as well as the glorious angst

- Similarly to the twin dads au, Gregory is found in the pantry except this time it's only by Moon. It startles the shit out of Gregory and Moon frantically shushes him because he doesn't want Sun to know there is a kid here. The first objective is get out of the daycare.

- Moon ends up putting him in a storage box, and then he gets called out by Vanessa. She delivers the message she did to Freddy to the others, basically find the kid and Sun is excited. Probably also the first time Gregory overhears their very... toxic relationship.

- He overhears the conversations many, many times. Moon still reassures him that he's alright, and that he's gotten used to his brothers behavior.

- Being the only animatronic not child murder crazy, he definitely puts on a better facade of everything being alright then in the normal role reversal au. He has to, he's the only thing this kid had!

- Starts calling Gregory "little comet" because that's adorable. When Gregory asked about the nickname, Moon said that it was pretty and that "comets are very pretty, but are also flaming rocks in outer space so they are very destructive" And honestly? Accurate.

- It would be far easier to trick Moon then it would normally. He would never suspect that Gregory would do something like that, so he had his guard down around him.

- Because I want to cause pain, he probably cut the wire with the good ol stab in the back method. Like after being let down near the edge of the balcony, he asked Moon for a hug and then cut it causing him to plummet to the ground.

- Want more pain? I feel like Gregory would come down to talk to Moon, because he feels horrible about tricking him, but Moon would reassure him.

- Yes, I genuinely think he would still comfort the child after being betrayed. Because, well, he doesn't really have the best image of himself when his brother is infected? With how much shit he's internalized and how commonly he is treated awfully by his own brother, he doesn't feel the need to be hard on Gregory for doing what he had expected from everyone in his life. He would only slow him down anyways, and it makes sense for Gregory to still be scared of him because he's a freak- he scares everyone. If he can be more useful to the kid dead, then he's happy he could help. At least he did something useful then.

Now of course this is all a very VERY horrible way to think, but at least in this au with Sun infected he just sort of.. adapted a general dislike towards himself. Of course it hurt that Gregory did that, but it's more of a "It hurts, but I expected it at this point" sort of thing. And of course it worries him that he'll most likely be irrepairable, if he doesn't shut off on the spot, because he knows that he needs to keep the daycare running for his brother. But probably thinks that, at the same time, him being decommissioned will encourage them to fix Sun. All the kids like Sun, so really it would be better for them in the long run.

#fnaf moon #moondrop #daycare attendant #fnaf sun #sunrise #sundrop #fnaf security breach au #fnaf gregory #fnaf vanessa #role reversal au #twin dads au

48 notes · View notes

a-froger-epic · 3 years

Note

You said Freddie "was in love with an idea of Mary". I don't understand this and some other people's opinion on this. They were in a relationship. They broke up, because Freddie was gay and couldn't have romantic relationship with her. They stayed friends, which isn't unsual (see Joe). He couldn't love her as a friend? Only "the idea of her"? She didn't deserve to be loved? Why is it wrong to ask Phoebe about her? Why the fandom tries to forget she ever existed? She's known Freddie for 22 years.

Alright, I will elaborate then since I think you've misunderstood what I said there, and that is fair enough because I didn't explain.

I'm really not keen on getting into any discussions about Mary, to be honest, which is why I said none of this is a hill I'd like to die on. I'm not interested in defending how Mary acted after his death, there's a lot of valid criticism and it's true that their relationship is and was often misrepresented in a way that is disrespectful to Jim and the very fact that Freddie was a self-identified gay man. So I understand the frustration with that. But anyway, here are my thoughts on Mary and Freddie and their actual relationship with each other.

Let's start at the beginning. Although none of us can really know what their relationship was like, I personally think it's clear that they clicked very well in the beginning, on some level.

Let me just pre-empt this again by saying that pretty much all of this is speculation and my personal opinion, I'm not trying to tell anyone they're wrong. This is just my take. Don't come for me. Let me have my opinion, please and thank you.

I think they fit well in the way that, knowing Mary's background (deaf parents, started working full-time at 15), she was very used to being in a caretaker role and Freddie liked, in many ways, to be taken care of. I think she was also somebody who was not very outspoken with her emotions, not very emotional overall, and I think that actually perhaps suited Freddie quite well. Because I think that her keeping her feelings close to her chest gave him the excuse to do the exact same. Why do I think so?

Having read Rosemary's book, it's apparent that she is a very emotional person and what ended up happening, is that Freddie opened up to her in ways he never did with Mary. He never, until their break up, let on to Mary that he wanted to be with men. Freddie and Rosemary, by contrast, were only together for a year or so and he could not stop talking about it. Rosemary was open, so Freddie was open. I think Freddie was a bit of a chameleon when it came to relationships, which stemmed from his deep desire to be loved and accepted. He wanted to please, he wanted to be a good fit for his partners. I think that was sometimes detrimental for him because he would push himself to be somebody he wasn't. I think incidentally with Mary it sort of worked out quite well for quite a long time. I think that while they did have feelings for each other, there was also a lot of unspoken things, an emotional distance, and I think that made it easier for Freddie to be in the closet as long as he was. Again, having to grow up so fast, I think Mary was someone who learned to swallow things down and not address them and just function. In a way, Freddie had a very similar approach.

Now, let's talk about love and what I meant by him being in love with the idea of her. I believe that Freddie definitely believed and felt that he was in love with her for much of the time they were together, in part because I think he really, really wanted to be. Here was this girl who was in many ways perfect for him, the kind of girl his parents were thrilled about. Also, quite importantly, somebody who believed in him and did support him. I remember seeing one interview with her where she says her first impression was that he was this charismatic, long-haired musician and seemed so confident. Not at all like the person underneath, I think she goes on to say. But it did give me the impression that being as young as she was at the time, there was definitely a sort of wide-eyed admiration of his huge personality there from her side. And I think that stroked his ego a lot. I'm sure that later on in their relationship, she did become somewhat disenchanted with him and most likely even frustrated with him much of the time, but again, being someone who keeps themselves to themselves, I think she put on a brave face and funnily enough he did the exact same thing.

It think that towards the end of their relationship, they functioned as partners, rather than a romantic couple. I think Freddie clung on for a very long time - if not forever - to some ideal of what his life should/could/might have been if only he hadn't been gay (internalised homophobia galore), and that is also what I mean by being in love with the idea of Mary. The idea of the beautiful fantasy relationship with a woman he was never able to live up to, and I think a lot of guilt stemmed from that, for him. That he should have been able to give her that, but he couldn't. That he had failed her. That, therefore, he had to provide for her as long as he lived. Because if he hadn't been gay, he could have married her and everything would have been brilliant - which, you can't tell me, that his parents did not likely think exactly that. I will eat a hat if his mother did not once bemoan that he hadn't or wouldn't marry her. Again, I repeat, this is some deeply ingrained internalised homophobia I'm talking about, I'd be hesitant to say that Freddie was even aware of it.

Now, here's the thing. Freddie was someone who could not be alone, we know this, and he was someone who could not let go of people easily. He stayed friends, if he could, with many of his exes. And I think he was terrified of the thought of losing Mary - who he was used to, who he relied on, who he felt deeply guilty towards because he wasn't the man she deserved - when their relationship ended. Basically, he wanted the to have the cake and eat it, too. And he got that, in a way. He did get to keep her in his life, she agreed to that, and I don't think that was at all times particularly healthy for either of them.

I think Mary resented that Freddie was gay. Again, I don't even think it was a very conscious thing, but I think she absolutely believed that if only he hadn't been gay, they would have been perfect for each other. I don't think she ever stopped feeling like he was the one that got away. I think this led to her deeply resenting a lot of his circle and his lifestyle, resenting having to be involved in it, which I think is a large part of why she burned all bridges when he died. I think she felt free from an obligation that she herself had put on herself. I think the woman could have done with some therapy, tbh, I think they all could have. Anyway.

When I read what Phoebe said in that interview, what jumped out at me was that this was an important dinner with Freddie's parents. I think Freddie took solace in the idea that he could bring Mary out to dinner with them and it was almost as if it was real. That they had the son they wanted, in the way that he knew they didn't. I'm tearing up writing this right now because it's really heartbreaking to me.

But that is what I meant by the idea of her. I think, also, Freddie was generally very romantic. I think he was a bit in love with love, overall. And I think he held that fantasy somewhere in his mind forever, of what could have been, if only. And I think Mary did the same.

Of course it isn't romantic. It's terrible, it's sad, there's so many things wrong with it. But that's what I think their relationship with each other was. I think it always carried an echo of his perceived failure to have been the man she thought he could have been, he thought he could have been, if only he hadn't been gay.

Tl; dr - I'm not interested in erasing Mary from Freddie's life, any more than I'm interested in erasing anyone else who was important to him from his life. I do think he had a lot of love for her, and she for him. I don't think acknowledging that takes away from his love for his husband or makes him any less gay.

#Freddie Mercury #Mary Austin #ask response

28 notes · View notes

brekkersblog · 3 years

Text

Rant

I adore Freddy so much, people who follow me know that but I see show Kaz and book Kaz as two different characters. As much as I want to I just don't see him threatening a kid, or telling Pekka he buried his kid or idk being the ruthless criminal everyone is scared of. He nailed all the other aspect of Kaz don't get me wrong but I don't see him doing all that shit. I see him having trauma, being smart, in love with Inej, caring for his frds, having a plan but I don't see him as a criminal leader.

For one reason : he seems more mature and understanding than book Kaz. There is a calmness about him and I feel like his emotional intelligence is way better than book Kaz. Now if he were to do those shit it would be like he went little crazy in head or idk it would seem like he kind of reverted into some sort of shell who would do anything for money or revenge while show Kaz doesn't give off that vibe. I can absolutely see freddy ripping out eyeball (coz it's for Inej) or outsmarting someone but as far as this cruelty goes I just don't see him doing that. Maybe he will prove me wrong in future however I just can't see Freddy in a feared gang leader role yet.

Also they should have let Kaz have cool fight scenes too. We should have gotten atleast one scene like that. Inferni was a good chance for that to happen, kaz should have fought and killed him. They could have let some other grisha come in at that moment and have Inej kill them for that emotional moment. It wouldn't have affected the scene at all. Unlike Inej and Jesper he didn't have any fight sequence. Kaz is a skilled and good fighter. He didn't learn that shit in one year. But Freddy's body language didn't depict that at all. Kaz doesn't use strength but tactics as he knows which points to hit with what intensity to get an opponent down. They should have shown that. Instead they made him seem too weak and you are left wondering how did he even become the boss. It's like they forgot it was Kaz who taught Inej how to use knives and fight. Despite what they say about him having development he didn't learn all this in just one year! And you can't be a boss of something in a city like ketterdam on your wits alone. You need fighting skills to back it up too. We don't see Kaz fight much in book either but when he does you can see how good he is. I mean can you even see the show Kaz putting down Matthias with few good hits? He may come off as rude and grumpy but do you see him scary or unhinged enough to be called demjin by Matthias?

Until they do a whole 180 of his character in just a span of yr or two next season I don't see him like this at all and it's making me wonder how much of the story will they change for SoC plot. I don't want people to see him as cute, I want people to see him as morally grey character who does a lot of questionable things and not just a grumpy one which is how he comes off in show. People saying audience won't root for him keeps forgetting that how many people love such criminals in other shows. They adore them even more when such characters have soft spot for few people only and a traumatic backstory for them being like that. Kaz has everything. They were too busy focusing on one aspect of his personality and completely ignored all the other things about him.

#shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone #kaz brekker #six of crows #freddy carter #don't get me wrong i still love show Kaz #but i would have loved to see more of his character u know #he got the shortest end of stick #among crows that is

66 notes · View notes

ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

Text

the riot

request from nonnie!! “Hi! just wanted to say that i LOVE your writing!! I was wondering if maybe you could do like a fred imagine where the reader is a prefect and is leading the first years to the dorms the first night but he keeps pestering her and using some sort of pet name like “love” or “dear” and all of the kids think that they’re dating and tease her for it but of course she denies it. Sorry if this sucks, I’ve never done this before :( Thank you!!”

pairing: fred x reader

word count: 1.7k

A/N: i'm in love with this request, thanks so much, hope i’ve done this justice, fred weasley can tie me up to a four poster in gryffindor common room anyday, bye

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @cottageoflove @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover @dreamer821 @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs | message me to be added loveys

Your seventh and final year at Hogwarts had come far too quickly, and brought with it a very dry heat at the beginning of September. A melancholy sort of feeling crept its way through your bones during the Sorting ceremony; you were both excited and woefully saddened that this was, in fact, the last Sorting you’d watch. You bit down on your lip as the very final first year, a measly little brown haired boy, made his way excitedly over to Ravenclaw, who’s table was bursting with cheers.

Although the majority of the new first years had grown up in magical families, each and every single one of their eyes widened at the sight of the feast; Hogwarts feasts were rather famous, after all. Once they’d all cleared their plates and finished their evening tea, Dumbledore bid everyone farewell and sent you all off straight to bed, as morning, and lessons, would come quickly.

You couldn’t wait to see the look on the new first years' faces at the changing staircases.

It was something you looked forward to every September 1st.

You waved over the tiny boys and girls in your house and gave them a warm smile. “Our common room is this way,” you began, pointing toward the right side of the castle. A few of them looked absolutely mortified at the sight of the very large corridors. You added, “Just follow me and you’ll be alright!”

“Ma’am?” a young boy with dark, curly hair asked. Ma’am? You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself a little bit. You were only seventeen; surely you didn’t look much older. He looked positively dreadful; first year jitters, of course. “Is it true what they say?”

“What who says?”

“The Ghosts!” another blond haired boy squeaked. His eyes were wide with wonder.

You grinned; you knew exactly what they were discussing. You made sure your voice sounded soft and welcoming; you didn’t want to scare them. It was their first night in the castle, after all. “And what’ve the ghosts said?”

“That the Gryffindor Common Room is haunted!”

“..and that we’re going to be pulled out of bed by our toenails!”

“Ew!” a few young girls in your group began to squeal and giggle.

You patted the dark haired boy on the shoulder, hoping to calm his nerves a bit. “No, it’s not haunted. Here’s your first tip for your time spent here at Hogwarts — don’t listen to a single thing Peeves says, okay?”

Just then, a bit of raucous laughter began to flood the corridors, making a few of your first years nearly jump out of their skin. Rounding the bend was none other than the group you were hoping to avoid, including those absolute gits that always seemed hellbent on making your first night in the castle one to remember.

They were so bloody annoying.

“What’re you on about, telling these lads not to listen to Peeves?” Fred hopped his way across a few steps until he was right up next to you. He leaned against the wall in a relaxed sort of state; he folded his arms across his chest and smirked at you. “C’mon, love, we all know how brilliant Peeves really is.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a low standard for brilliance, then, Freddie.”

“That’s rude,” George piped up, elbowing you in the ribs. He continued to march up the staircase with Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione at his heels, but Fred stayed put. To the first years, George said, “We can tell you loads of funny stories about Peeves — just find us in the common room, and be sure to check out our newest inventions —”

“—ah, yes, Extendable Ears —”

“—Nosebleed Nougat—”

“—we’ve got tons, don’t be shy!”

“Cut it out, you two!” you called over the now very excited group of first years, who’s laughter and applause seemed to echo up the stairs. “Could you please save your advertisements for another time, please? I’ve got to get these young ones up to the common room in one piece; they’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

George and the others continued to laugh and bid farewell to the youngins; they disappeared through the next corridor in the blink of an eye. Fred, however, stayed where he was.

“Darling, you know we’ve got products to sell.” His eyes were dark and smirk was large; another year, and he was still hellbent on sending you into a frenzy. Don’t things ever change?

Before you could answer with a snarky retort, a few younger girls began to giggle quietly, but you heard them. Fred asked them through a smile, “What’s so funny over there?”

They continued to laugh and tried to cup their hands over their mouths, but they fell into one another and giggled even louder. One of them, a very short girl with chin length hair and black-framed glasses perched on her nose, asked you both, “He called you ‘darling’. Is he your boyfriend?”

Now all of the first years were laughing. You crossed your arms and turned back toward Fred, who was licking his lips to try and help him suppress the laughter that was rising in his chest. It didn’t work. He wiggled his eyebrows at you and glanced back and forth between you, the Prefect, and the gaggle of younger students in front of you both on the stairs. He actually snorted. “Well, you going to give them an answer or not?”

Through gritted teeth and a bit of a grin you couldn’t seem to hide, you told him quietly, “I hate you.” To the students, you said, “No, he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t have time for a boyfriend. I’ve got lots of studying to do, you see. Which is why we all need to get up to our four posters, because we’ve got an early day tomorrow. First day of lessons! Are you lot excited?”

Every single one of the students ignored this, much to your dismay. Fred, however, looked just as relaxed as he did when he first arrived a few minutes ago, if not more so. The blond haired boy asked, “If he’s not your boyfriend, then why did he call you ‘darling’?”

“And ‘love’?” a redheaded girl squeaked from the back of the group.

You couldn’t help it, you rolled your eyes — especially when Fred was laughing like an absolute idiot next to you. He placed his hand on the small of your back and you stealthily smacked it away. “Because he’s silly, that’s why. Come on, now. Let’s go. The common room is just around the bend.”

Fred spent the rest of the walk toward the common room doing everything in his power to annoy you; he kept poking you in the ribs, tried very desperately to sling his arm around your shoulders or around your waist, and kept saying things that made the children fall into a fit of hysterics — Rumor has it that Gryffindor’s team is the best it’s been in years.. coming to the first match? I know you can hardly resist my playing.

Once the first years learned the password and were settled into their four posters for the evening, you walked back down from the girls dormitory only to find Fred sprawled out on the couch with a copy of the latest Daily Prophet in his hands. He sent a rather sensual smirk your way; you shook your head, marched over, yanked him by his tie and dragged him completely through the portrait hole and into the corridor.

“Bloody hell, woman, I know we’ve done some wild things, but I’m not that much into choking.”

A bright grin split your face; you couldn’t help it, he was so bloody charming, it was hard not to turn to complete mush around him. You ignored his statement, though. “First years think you’re a riot.”

“Yeah, well, who wouldn’t?”

“You’re a git, you know that?”

“That’s mean,” he pouted, inching himself closer to you. He teasingly added, “So was when you denied that I’m your boyfriend. You’ve got to make it up to me, love.” He lingered on the word for emphasis.

You draped your arms over his shoulders and began to play absentmindedly with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “Sorry, Freddie — needed to get my first years in bed in one piece, not all riled up, like I promised. I’ve got to be a role model to them, you know. And you’ve got a distracting sort of personality.”

You could practically hear the smirk that grew on his face. He pushed you slowly back against the wall outside the portrait hole, leaning his one hand right next to your head against the bricks; his free hand grabbed at your hip. He licked his lips impatiently. “Distracting in a good way?”

“In the best way, darling.”

He grinned. “You know,” he paused, eyeing you up and down as if this was the very first time he was seeing you. “Letting me tease you like that did seem to get them all riled up.”

You swatted him playfully with the sleeve of your sweater.

“I reckon you’ve still got to make it up to me, though.”

You pulled on his tie again, gently this time. “New year at school, Fred. Final year. Surely you’ve figured out a way to hoodwink the jinxes and break into the girls dorm, haven’t you?”

He raised his eyebrows at you and clicked his tongue. In a hushed whisper, he asked, “On the first night? What’s gotten into you? So much for being a role model.. don’t let the young ones see you.” His wink sent you into overdrive. It was really rather rude of him.

You pulled him closer to you; you were extremely grateful that the surrounding area was empty and tried very, very hard to ignore the talking portraits that lined the corridors. You felt him grin against you, surely thinking of what the first night back at Hogwarts would bring, and before closing the slight gap between you both, you told him,

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

BONUS, because i’m a brat

“I lied, by the way,” Fred whispered once you both hopped back through the portrait hole. He rested his head on your shoulders and let his hands creep over your hips and around your stomach. “I am into choking.” #BYE

reblogs, comments, and feedback are always appreciated! thanks for reading and requesting, darlings x

#fred weasley #George weasley #fred and George weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley reader insert #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #my writing

488 notes · View notes

vampiremeowny · 3 years

Text

okay in the heights thoughts that no one asked for let’s go (spoilers ahoy)

THEY STRAIGHT UP KILLED NINA’S MOM FOR SOME REASON?? like sis was just GONE. which means they cut “Enough” which like. okay it’s not really that essential of a song but like they also had to change some plot points and some lyrics like in “Breathe” Nina couldn’t say “what will me parents say” because she only had. one parent. but yeah I think that really took away from the motif of family in the film??

speaking of Nina REALLY wasn’t in love with the way she was portrayed. I feel like the outfits they gave her didn’t reflect her character? I did think it was notable how in the first scene her hair was straight and in like every other scene it was in its natural state showing her return to her roots but like. I feel like her outfits didn’t match her narrative or her personality or her story

also this might be a cold take but I seriously was not in love with Nina’s voice. like Leslie Grace is a singer but it really didn’t show through in the film.

really really in love with Anthony Ramos as Usnavi!!! but that didn’t surprise me at all tbh, I’m v familiar with him and Lin always casts him perfectly

a lot of things in the movie reminded me of like. Edgar Wright type directing? like there were animations on screen for “When You’re Home” and “96,000″ that I thought were really neat! also cuts and scenes that show how the world lines up with the music, like people placing dominos down to the beat... they also like. had title cards with the temperature of the day which seemed very Edgar Wright to me

OKAY THEY DID WHEN YOU’RE HOME SO DIRTY. like it probably my second favorite song but in the movie there was like. too much instrumental background and the singing and the story really didn’t shine through, musical version of when you’re home was way better

OLGA MEREDIZ MA’AM YOUR PIPES. MA’AM!!!!!!

okay but spoilers this movie tries to fake you out so many times. first they took “paciencia y fe” and had it be the song right before abuela’s death, and they don’t reveal abuela won the ticket so I was like ????? and putting it right before her death (and having her death during the blackout) changed like. the whole meaning of the song and it hit different which was interesting but I think I prefer the stage musical version where she doesn’t die at the end lol

because they killed abuela early they cut hundreds of stories :( we still got the US navy joke tho

they cut a good handful of songs actually? off the top of my head they cut inútil, sunrise (THEY CUT SUNRISE!!!!!!!), hundreds of stories, enough, everything I know, and the piragua reprise

okay but seriously can’t BELIEVE they cut sunrise ngl I was devastated for that one. although the opening notes of sunrise played in other parts of the movie, I think for the most part they wrote out the concept of Benny not being latino, I think this is because the movie tries to focus on Usnavi and Vanessa as the main couple, which I did appreciate

but yeah Benny and Nina’s roles were a little smaller than their roles in the musical? I did appreciate how they actually like. gave Nina a compelling reason to go back to college tho

Sonny’s character was really well done!!! he was actually one of my favorites, really like that his personality and backstory shined through, and I think they really captured him well, especially when you consider they address current real life issues with his character

the movie: oh yeah Daniela and Carla are married me: I KNEW IT

Dani and Carla,,,,, are cute,,,,, just wives being together at the pool,,, dancing in the apartment,,,, playing bingo,,,, my heart is full

REALLY enjoyed that they made Vanessa like. a full person lmao like she had a REASON to go downtown and she was shown to like. have a personality (the bar is on the floor but still. I appreciated it)

okay but piraguero?? lin isn’t that bad of a singer actually? like he’s no Freddie Mercury but like. chill

my mom, during alabanza, five seconds after Usnavi explained what alabanza means: what’s alabanza????

really surprised by carnaval del barrio!! it was my least favorite song in the musical but the movie version was REALLY WELL DONE, the music and the choreography and the colors and the sense of community,,,, very good. dunno why people are getting on stephanie beatriz for her line delivery tho

in conclusion. very good. very well done transition from stage to screen. tells a story about the latino community that’s not a sob story or trauma p*rn. good job lin and jon. go see in the heights it’s literally so much better of a story and more meaningful of a story than hamilton lmao

#in the heights #ith #piggy tales

24 notes · View notes

sincerlypadfoot · 4 years

Text

Running Around (2)

~After sneaking out of your house for the summer you sneak to the borrow, seeing Molly first and giving her the occasional hug, and telling her about everything, then seeing everyone else around, then Fred who faces lights up when he sees you

Word Count- 1298

Send Requests Here

“Freddie,” I whispred running my fingers around his back. “I have to go back to my room,” I mumbled knowing how this conversation was gonna go.

“No no stay,” He mumbled into his pillow, laying on his stomach. “It’s okay they won’t think anything of his,” He continued to mumbled.

“Nothing to think about huh,” I chuckled making Fred look up at me. “Because i’m not sitting naked in your bed huh,” I chuckled falling down on my back and turning my head to Face Fred.

“It’s okay,” Fred whispred wrapping his arms around me and pulled me towards me. “The doors locked, and this place is huge, no ones gonna come up here,” He whispred leaning down and kissing my lips.

My hands ran through his ginger hair, running there then down to his back, feeling his goosebumps for around him.

“We have to get out of this room sometime,” I chuckled leaning back from his neck kiss. “You know I moved my room beside yours for a reason,” I said crawling out of bed.

“Nice butt,” Fred chuckled making me smile. “Just come back here, it’s okay Maileen,” Fred huffed using his wand and pulled me back to his bed.

“Hey no using magic in bed,” I giggled leaning back in the bed where I had just gotten up from. “Maybe it’s time we could tell people,” I suggested as Fred ran his fingers up and down my body.

“Slowly but surely, i’m sure George has suspected something, I ditched him last night to come have some fun with you, he totally suspects something,” Fred said kissing my shoulder blades.

“This was never gonna be a one time thing huh,” I chuckled leaning my head back and just admiring the feeling of Fred's lip on my skin. “I’m glad because I didn’t want it to be,” I admired running my hair through Fred's mained hair.

“Yeah me too,” He said leaving my body and looking up at me. “Get dressed, we’re gonna be up here all day if we don’t,” Fred chuckled leaving one more trail of kisses along my collarbone.

“I’ll see you later, i’m gonna have a shower in my room, with the door unlocked,” I chuckled blowing Fred a kiss and walking back to my room through our connected bathrooms, Fred's room was blowing hot well the chills from my room causes goosebumps to form on my body.

I grabbed a shirt and white shirt out of my bag and some new underwear Fred had gotten me for my birthday last week, dragged me all the way up to his room for the private gift. I walked back into the bathroom to the shower already going and the shadow of a tall silhouette stood tall.

“I thought i’d get the shower warmed up for you,” Fred chuckled, I moved the shower curtain and crawled in, Sirius hadn’t told us about the showers, and how they were perfect for showering his two people, the showerhead came from the ceiling, falling perfectly on the both of us.

“You know,” I smirked grabbing the shampoo from the corner. “This is nice, showering,” I chuckled running my hands through my hair.

“Hey Maileen!” Ginny called out from the door, I looked at Fred then at the door, Fred bend down and stood enough behind me, though it wasn’t the best idea since his hands liked to roam. “Can I come in please, I have something private to ask you,” Ginny said opening the door, I looked at Fred who had a smile on his face.

“Whats up Ginny?” I asked sticking my head out of the curtain. “I’ll be down in a second, i’m sure I can help you then,” I suggested rubbing the back of my head, I let out a smirk as Fred's hand slowly roamed placing his whole hand on my butt.

“I was just thinking, do you think Harry likes me, I’d like to ask him out after what happened last here and see if that’ll cheer him up, I just need someone elses opinion,” Ginny said sitting down on the toilet, I didn’t answer her being more concentrated on where Fred's hand were going. “Is something wrong?” She asked snapping me back.

“No no nothing wrong,” I smiled trying to think of something to say. “When he gets here at the end of the month just see how he acts towards you, he might still be a bit traumatized about what happened, maybe just try comforting him and share interest, tell him something about yourself,” I said slapping my hand back and hitting Fred, I spotted his clothes lying just under mine on the sink.

“Thank you Maileen, do you know where Fred is, I checked his room but he wasn’t in there,” Ginny asked standing up.

“I saw him roaming the halls, go check his George,” I suggested smiling. “I’m gonna get back to my shower now Ginny, i’ll see you in a bit,” I said hoping she would just leave.

“Have a good shower Maileen,” Ginny said walking out into Fred's room now, I leaned myself back in the shower, Fred was already standing up with his tongue sticking out at me.

“Do you think she knew I was here?” Fred asked looking at me with a smile now. “My sisters gotta be so snoopy,” He chuckled making me chuckle.

“Get out of my shower Fred,” I laughed shaking my head and washing the rest of my hair. “Your sisters gonna be the first one to know, she knows everything,” I chuckled as Freds hands replaced mine and washed my hair.

“Yeah well don’t worry about her,” Fred whispred. “Just enjoy your shower love,” He softy said, I closed my eyes and just relaxed feeling Fred's hand run along my hair.

“Thank you,” I smiled turning to face him. “Slowly people will start knowing, we can’t hide our love forever,” I chuckled putting my hand on Freds chest.

“Yeah,” Fred said looking down at me. “I’ll meet you downstairs okay love,” He said, leaning down and kissing my lips, I watched as he left the shower and wrapped my towel around his waist and walked out with the only towel. I shook my head and just admired Fred and how much I had been in love with that boy.

I turned the water off and jumped out of the shower standing in the bathroom naked. “Fred Weasley give me my towel,” I hissed looking into his room, he was already dressed and holding the towel in his hands.

“Come and get it,” He teased waving it in the air. “What you act like I haven’t seen you naked,” He chuckled making me role my eyes, I shut the bathroom door and grabbed my clothes, walking into my room where Fred was standing with the towel held out towards me.

“Thank you,” I smirked wrapped the towel around me. “Go downstairs, i’ll see you down there,” I said walking over towards my mirror and started brushing my hair. I watched Fred leave and I just smiled. My door quickly open and Fred was back in my room with his back against the door.

“Ginny knows, she knows everything,” Fred hissed shaking his head, a small smile appeared on his face.

“What did you do Fred Weasley,” I chuckled placing my brush down and turning to look at him.

“Nothing, I did absolutely nothing but walked out of this room, but you, you did something!” Fred said pointing at his wrist, my hair tie was laying on his wrist, from our last night sleepover. “Ginny sees everything and when she saw that her eyes went wide and she went to say something but I just ran back in here!” Fred shouted making me laugh.

“Relax Freddie, let’s get passed breakfast and see what happens,” I chuckled wrapping my arms around Freds shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay,” I laughed planting a firm kiss on his lips.

#Fred Weasley #FredWeasley #fred weasley x gryffindor!reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n

44 notes · View notes

thedeaditeslayer · 3 years

Photo

Greg Nicotero Talks ‘Creepshow’ Season Two, His ‘Evil Dead’ Love Letter And Exploring More Iconic Horror IPs.

This interview with Greg Nictorero covers the season premiere episode that is a homage to Evil Dead. Recommended reading below!

The first season of Creepshow was a monster hit for AMC’s horror streamer, Shudder.

Becoming the most-watched program in the platform’s history, it smashed several records in terms of viewership, total minutes streamed, and new subscriber sign-ups. The show’s second season is about to drop, and a third has already been confirmed.

I caught up with horror legend and Creepshow’s showrunner, Greg Nicotero, to discuss the show’s killer formula for success, paying tribute to iconic multimillion-dollar franchises and what stands in the way of a new Creepshow movie.

Simon Thompson: How does making season two compare to your experience on the first season?

Greg Nicotero: Well, we got the green light to do Creepshow while I was shooting The Walking Dead, so we had to develop the stories, get the scripts written, prep in six weeks, so the entirety of season one was done between January and April. It was fast and furious. I’ve been in The Walking Dead world for ten years, so I was like, ‘How hard can it be? You build a bunch of sets, get some cameras, you get a bunch of great actors and a good script, and you shoot it.’ Man, I had no idea what I was letting myself in for. You’re creating an entirely new universe, all new sets, all new cast and crew every three and a half days. I felt like it was grabbing the horns of a bucking bull and just holding on for dear life. We made it through by sheer will. I had to deliver something that stayed true to the spirit of George A. Romero and Creepshow. If I screwed it up, I wasn’t going to get another chance. So, I don’t know if I had any fun on season one.

Thompson: Season one of Creepshow was a massive success for Shudder in so many ways, from viewership to subscriptions as well as critically. Did you soak that in?

Nicotero: I didn’t read many reviews because I didn’t want my heart to be broken. I’m a sensitive guy. I would probably find the one sh***y one and just be devastated. However, one thing that people saw across the board was that I had a passion for the material and put my heart into it. That gave me a lot of confidence to go into season two, stand up straight, grab those horns and control the show and fight for the stories I wanted to tell. I also wanted to have fun with it. I feel like season two has got that heart and passion, but it’s fun and pays tribute to everything important to me and my upbringing, from building monster models and watching TV horror hosts to the loving nod to Sam Raimi. These stories all meant something to me. I feel like I’ve matured 100 years between season one and season two.

Thompson: That’s the Public Television of the Dead story in the first episode of season two. It blew my mind a little bit.

Nicotero: That makes me so happy to hear that. I worked so closely with Sam on Evil Dead II and Army of Darkness. When I read the script, I loved that it was a nod, but it became something else when we got into making it. There’s a bit where Ted Raimi starts to float on the Appraisers Road Trip set; I put that in, and the camera work with the evil force going down the hallway; they weren’t in the script. I was like, ‘If I’m going to do this, I’m going to go all the f***ing way.’ I even adjusted some of the dialogue, like when Ted Raimi talks about the book being in his family for years and gathering dust in the fruit cellar. Any opportunity I had to buy into the fact that maybe the Necronomicon is a real thing and that Sam and his brothers went off and made this movie with his book, I took it. Sam was shooting the Dr. Strange movie, but I reached out to him right before shooting it. Without a doubt, it’s probably the most respectful send-up of the Evil Dead universe. Every one of the actors was like, ‘F**k, man, I love Evil Dead II. This is so much fun.’ It was always intended to be a love letter to Sam and Evil Dead. Creepshow is all about paying tribute, little love letters, to the likes of EC Comics, Stephen King, George A. Romero, and so many other things. We got to change the Necronomicon just a little bit. We still wanted it to feel like the original, but we also don’t want anyone to feel like we’d infringed copyright. Even the appraiser’s name, Goodman Tapert, is a tribute. David M. Goodman was the transportation coordinator on Evil Dead, and Rob Tapert was the producer. If only I could have got Bruce Campbell down there, steal him out of retirement, to do something on Creepshow, that would have been awesome.

Thompson: You got a great cast together for the first season, and you have raised the bar.

Nicotero: I feel fortunate that we were able to get the caliber of talent we did. Kevin Dillon, Justin Long, D’Arcy Carden, C. Thomas Howell, Ali Larter, the list of great people who jumped on board for season two goes on. Every one of them did a great job. They all showed up, were prepared, and knew their lines, and they were excited to be back to work. It’s always funny when you bring actors into your world. They show up, work for three days, and leave. And I remember in season one, I went through my phone, and I convinced Adrienne Barbeau and Giancarlo Esposito to do it because they all knew me, and I had worked with them on different projects. When they walked onto the set, they saw how fast we were moving and how immersive it was, and they had a really good time. Many actors find a tremendous amount of freedom in immersing themselves in a role that will take up their life for just three or four days.

Thompson: Going back to you paying homage to Evil Dead in an episode this season, would you like to do that with more iconic horror IPs or pick up on previous Creepshow stories?

Nicotero: The freedom is the greatest part about it. We talked about potentially revisiting stories from the first Creepshow movie, but that is convoluted in terms of the rights. You can’t clear it. There are stories that I guarantee you, especially after you see season two and season three, that we would love to revisit and pay tribute to those genres that we love. If I had a way to intertwine a Jason Voorhees story, a Michael Myers story, or a Freddy Krueger story without having the people that own the rights to those franchises jumping up and down and screaming, I would do it in a minute. For me, it’s really fun to be able to take a story and look at it from a different vantage point like we did with Evil Dead. So often now, the world is about taking material you think you know everything about and giving it to you from a different perspective. I think Wicked was probably the first piece of material that did that. It took The Wizard of Oz, a story that everybody knows and loves, and looked at it from the witch’s perspective. I read the screenplay before there was a show because I think the writers wanted it to be a movie first. I remember reading it and thinking, ‘Oh my God, it changes how we do look at everything related to The Wizard of Oz.’ The idea that we can take the horror genre and tell it from a perspective that gives us a completely new take is exciting and allows people to pay tribute to the original material and put a new spin on it. It gives fans something exciting that they can’t get from the original material.

Thompson: It was great to hear that there will be a third season but what’s the latest on a potential new Creepshow feature film?

Nicotero: I would love that. We’ve talked about it. When you do a show like this, you do it for the amount of money that we do it for, it becomes successful, and people want more, to get someone to turn around and give you more money to do a movie, they’re like, ‘Why would we do that when we’ve got a great show right here?’ I would love to do a Creepshow movie and expand the world with bigger stories and a little bit more money. I’m sure that down the road, that will become a reality, but right now, part of the beauty of Creepshow is that it gives you these bite-sized meals, these little appetizers. With today’s short attention span, you can watch 20 minutes and then go back later and watch another 20 minutes. I think that is very much in tune with how today’s society devours content. The beauty of Creepshow is that every story is so different, and every theme is so different that you’re getting an entirely new experience with each story.

The second season of Creepshow lands on Shudder on Thursday, April 1, 2021.

#Greg Nicotero #Evil Dead #Ted Raimi #Creepshow

13 notes · View notes

hockeyblogg · 4 years

Text

age - f.andersen

Author’s Notes: Hiyaa, so here’s the first part to ‘Age,’ I really hope you all like it & that it makes much more sense. I know on my last blog you all were hoping for part 3 and I’m hoping to show it to you this time. Hope you enjoy !!

Warnings: Angst, language, age gap, reader’s parents are assh*les and I’m sorry about that, (I’m sure your parents are sweethearts) Slight shade to Auston M*tthews but it’s not out of spite I swear lol.

**Also, the word “Manther” means ‘An older guy who dates women a lot younger than him’**

You were nervous.

No matter how much your boyfriend tried to reassure you, you were nervous.

Today would be the day where Freddie would finally meet your parents, and he personally was very excited. Ever since you met his parents last year, he’s been very eager to meet yours.

You had a wonderful time meeting his family, his mother immediately pulling you into a hug upon seeing you, “så du er hans lille blomst.” And his father politely shaking your hand while telling you how lovely it was to meet you. The visit went amazingly, and you were welcomed into his family very easily, but it’s tough to say that it would be the same with your family and Freddie.

Everyone knew you were quite a few years younger than Fred, six years to be exact, or as most people will fact check you. Apparently a twenty-four-year-old and a thirty-year-old can’t be together, or at least when your boyfriend is in the spotlight as much as yours, that’s what people will tell you. Two people who will forever remind you of that, are your parents, which is why you’re nervous for the outcome of tonight.

You’ve put it off for too long now, and you were actually hoping he would eventually let it go, but what you forgot was that Freddie was a goalie, and goalies are extremely patient.

Sighing, you run your hands down your dress, and try to calm yourself. We’ll just go in, eat, and get out, no extra visiting, no unnecessary lounging, just eat and leave.

“kæreste, you ready?” Fred pops in, fumbling with his watch and coming to stand behind you, you nod and softly smile at him, “You look handsome bubs.” He looks up and catches your eye in the mirror, “Thank you min elskede, and you look perfect.” You lightly blush but turn away before he can catch it, “We should go, we don’t want to be late.” Freddie chuckles, “I’m sure everything will go smoothly either way sweetheart.” He kisses your cheek and leads the way out of the bedroom and you slightly frown at his words. Hopefully everything goes smoothly.

Sitting in the car, you bite your lip, worrying about the possible outcome of this dinner.

Your parents have told you on multiple occasions that they thought Freddie wasn’t exactly “good” for you. By “good” they mean, your age and “mindset” as they called it. To them, because of your age gap they think Freddie is only using you for his benefit.

“You’re young and beautiful sweetie, of course a man of Freddie’s age is going to want to be with you, it’s like a boost to his career and his self-image-” Your mother was cut off by your father, “what your mother is trying to say is this man is just using you to make himself look good.”

“Dad!” You exasperated, “He’s not like that, and I’m sure that once you meet him-” It’s almost as if your father didn’t want to talk about it as he cut you off this time, “Like hell I’ll meet that little manther.” You take a deep breath as you try to calm yourself, “I know who Freddie is and what he’s like, dad. Until you want to get to know him as I do, then we’ll be back for a visit, we, not just me.” You got up after your little speech and left your parents’ home.

Flashback to present time and here you are, on your way to your parents’ house to hopefully have a nice, quick dinner.

As you pull up and Freddie parallel parks by the sidewalk, you look at him and grab his hand, squeezing it.

“Freddie,” he looks up at you, “Whatever happens tonight, if my parents love you, or…choose not to, just please remember that I love you so much, and I’m not going anywhere.” Freddie was getting ready to tease you but when he heard the sincerity in your voice he simply nods and pulls your hand up to his lips, planting a kiss on the back of it, “I love you too, elsker.”

You both get out of Freddie’s car and walk hand in hand to the front door, knocking twice before it swings open and your parents come into view.

“It’s so nice to see you sweetie.” Your mother pulls you in for a hug and your dad just nods towards you, “Hi honey.” You sigh, knowing he’s still a bit angry from your last visit.

You turn to Freddie and grab his hand, “Mom, Dad, this is Freddie. Freddie, these are my parents.” Freddie smiles and holds his hand out for them to shake, your mother takes it but doesn’t say anything further and your dad just nods at him before turning away and walking to the kitchen, “Come, the food is getting cold.” Your mother follows after him, and mumbles something to your father.

“I’m sorry about that.” You whisper to Freddie and he shrugs, “It’s fine, some fathers are very protective, come on kæreste.”

The dinner was awfully quiet and filled with slightly awkward silence and you were just about ready to ask Freddie if he was done when your father spoke up, “So Freddie, you play hockey, yes?” Freddie nodded and wiped his face before answering, “Yes I do, I play with the Toronto Maple Leafs. Do you watch, or play?” Your father shook his head, “Nope, never liked hockey.” Freddie simply nods and takes a sip of his water.

“How old are you Freddie?” Fred just about chokes on his water at the sudden question but manages to keep it at bay, setting down his glass, he clears his throat, “Well um, I’m thirty years old sir.” Your father continues, “Thirty years old and dating a twenty-four-year-old, funny.” Before you can speak up, Fred does, “Why’s that funny?”

“Oh, you know, because everyone knows that men your age only go for women younger than them because it makes them look good, and considering your “job,” your father puts quotations around the word “job” and smirks, “it’s kind of obvious.” Fred shakes his head, “Well, you’re wrong, why is it so hard to believe that I genuinely care about your daughter?”

Your father stands up and places his hands on the table, leaning toward you and your boyfriend, “Because Freddie, I know what kind of man you are, I’ve read all about you; you’re friends with Auston Matthews aren’t you, during your first couple seasons with the Leafs you were always partying, sleeping around, being a poor role model that’s for sure, I bet it was that Matthews kid that convinced you to ask my daughter out wasn’t it, bet you were just there to get inside her pants.”

You and your mother both look at him incredulously.

“Dad!”

“Y/F/N!”

Your father continues, venom in his words, “Listen here Freddie, a man of your age shouldn’t be with my daughter, you’re way too old and in my opinion, my daughter can do so much better than a washed up player like yourself.”

You stand up this time, finally hearing enough, “Dad stop! You have no right to talk to him that way, and you also have no say in whoever I choose to be in a relationship with,” you hear Freddie get up and walk towards the door, hearing it open then close, “I love Freddie, and Freddie loves me, and if you can’t accept that then we’re leaving and not coming back until you do.” You turn around as well, ignoring your father’s demands to stay, slipping your shoes on and jogging out the door.

You hop into the car and as soon as you buckle in, you both are driving away.

“Fred,” You face him and put your hand over his, “are you okay?” Fred nods but doesn’t say anything further, and you sigh, squeezing his hand and not letting go until you arrive at your apartment.

Stepping out of the elevator, you follow behind Fred, who unlocks your apartment door and you both step in and take your shoes off.

Freddie hasn’t said a word since you left your parents’ and you were beginning to worry; you really didn’t want him to take your father’s words seriously.

Freddie, unfortunately, was.

Freddie had been thinking about your fathers’ words all the way back to your shared apartment, and the more he thought about them, the more they made sense to him.

Ever since you and he got together almost four years ago, people have not let you both forget how big your age gap was. He has dealt with the teasing of his teammates at the beginning of your relationship, the glances that people would give him whenever you both were out in public, and the constant tweets or comments on any of your or Freddie’s posts. Having to endure that from your parents was almost like the last straw to him.

It’s clear that almost everyone thought you two didn’t belong together and if Freddie was being honest with himself, every single time he received a glance, every single time he had an older creepy CEO at one of the many maple leafs’ galas come up to him and ask “how’d you get a doll like that” and “where can I get one,” every single time someone commented on how old he is or looked, the more he felt guilty and selfish.

Who did he think he was to keep you all to himself, all for himself? That wasn’t fair to your friends, your family, and more importantly, it wasn’t fair to you. You deserve to be free, to be doing things other people your age are doing; traveling, going out every weekend, having girls’ days or nights, not staying committed to an old man like himself.

Instead, you’re in bed by ten because you have to make sure he’s up on time for practice, your parents are mad at you because you’re dating him, you have almost zero friends because you’re too caught up in events and games that you attend with him, you aren’t living your life the way you should be and for that, Freddie feels responsible.

Freddie sighs as he comes out of the bathroom and you look up from where you’re sitting, “Fred, are you okay?” he doesn’t answer your question, just comes and sits on the edge of the bed, facing away from you.

“I think we need to take a break…” he starts, and you panic inside, quickly hopping up and coming around, kneeling beside him, “What? Fred, bub...we, we don’t.” You grab his hands and try to catch his eye, but he’s turning away from you, “Y/N, it’s not fair okay, it’s not right.” He stands up and walks a few feet away, leaving some distance between you two, “I’ve been keeping you from everything, I’ve been holding you back, and I just can’t anymore.” You stand and try to take a step closer to him, but he takes one back, and you feel a pang in your chest, “Fred look, if this is about my parents-”

“It’s not just your parents, Y/N, it’s everyone,” he cuts you off and slightly raises his voice, “it’s the stares, the mumbles, the snickers, it’s like almost everyone is so against us being together, nobody wants us to be together..” tears are pooling in your eyes, and you sniff, “Who cares what everyone thinks Freddie, all that matters is what we want, it’s our relationship, not theirs. Don’t you want us to be together?” You ask him, but he just looks down, not meeting your eyes.

What could he say? Of course, he wanted you two to be together, he fucking loves you, but against his better judgement, he’s allowing everyone else to win this time. He couldn’t keep you from your parents, your friends, the world. He just couldn’t anymore.

Your shoulders slump at his silence and you allow the tears to fall down. After a beat of silence, other than your soft crying, Freddie makes his way to the door, “You can stay here, I’ll go stay at Auston’s.”

Hearing the front door slam shut, you fall to the floor and breakdown, your tears now flowing freely and your shoulders racking with sobs.

You allow yourself to breakdown for a while, until your sobs calm to sniffles, and your tears are gone, the last of them dried on your cheeks. As you sit there, you decide that you can’t stay at the apartment, it’s Freddie’s after all, and besides, if you stay it will just remind you of what you had.

With that thought in your head, you grab your phone, sending a quick text to Steph asking if there’s a spare room you can stay in until you get a place of your own, of course she asks what happened but you only tell her that you’ll explain later to which she tells you she’ll be there in an hour.

Grabbing two suitcases from your and Freddie’s closet, you pack up all your clothes. After you’re done there, you go into the bathroom and grab your personal items, putting those in a backpack. You’ve only lived with Freddie for almost two years, so you don’t have much things.

You grab your phone and text Freddie, telling him that you can’t take the apartment, and that you’ll be staying with Mitch and Steph for now. You put on your backpack and grab the two suitcases, making your way downstairs and to the front door. Steph messages you to tell you she’s almost there and you check around the apartment for any last things you may have forgotten.

After finding nothing upstairs and in the living room, you check the front closet and see a pair of shoes at the bottom, going to grab them you notice something inside and dig your hand in, bringing it back out you almost drop the item, and you almost don’t want it to be what you think it is.

Using your other hand, you drop the shoes and open the little blue box, coming face to face with the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen. Tears are flooding your eyes again and you cover your mouth to stop yourself from crying.

Ping!

Steph: I’m outside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

så du er hans lille blomst = so you are his little flower.

#ahhh #I really hope this is good #frederik andersen #frederik andersen imagines #freddie andersen imagines #freddy andersen imagines #toronto maple leafs writings #toronto maple leafs imagines #nhl imagines #nhl writing #freddie andersen x reader #my writings

119 notes · View notes

whenrockwasyoung19 · 4 years

Text

It’s Time to Talk about a Bespectacled Elephant in the Room

I’ve been in the Beatles fandom for 8 and a half years. I have had a Beatles blog for the entirety of those 8 and a half years, and I have watched as discourse about these four men evolve. The discourse inside and outside the fandom has become so toxic that I don’t think I can engage with it in the same way that I could before. Let me explain.

When I entered this fandom 8 and a half years ago, it was in 2012, quite an infamous year in tumblr history. That was the pique of “”cringey”” fandom culture. The Beatles fandom was as steeped in fandom culture as any other fandom. I know this because I was part of two of the top of fandoms at the time, Doctor Who and Sherlock. Believe me, I have seen cringe.

The fandom at the time was totally aware of the John, Paul, George, and Ringo’s flaws as individuals, but most fans tended to simply enjoy Beatles fandom as if it were the 60s. Some might call it ignorant bliss. If you asked me at the time, I’d have said it was self-aware ignorant bliss--if that even makes sense. At the time, there wasn’t a person with a Beatles icon who hadn’t heard the line “John Lennon beat his wife.” Everyone knew it, but everyone also knew the real story, and so everyone just made peace with it. As a result, people didn’t think about every bad thing the Beatles ever did on a daily basis. It was more like a once-a-month kind of thing. Otherwise, fandom discourse was quite fun and relaxed. There were no shipping wars, no one fought over who was the best Beatle, everyone gushed over the Beatles wives, and we all just had fun with fics and fan art.

Of course, in this period, people engaged in conversations about one bespectacled Beatles problematic behavior. These conversations usually came from outside of the fandom. It was usually randos coming into the tags or into someone’s ask box and ranting about John Lennon’s violent behavior. Some of it came from within the fandom. Some people really didn’t like John and gave others shit if they listed John as their favorite Beatle. A lot of the discourse boiled down to: ‘hey, I see you like John Lennon. You should know that he beat his wife. And now that you know that, you should feel bad about ever liking him in the first place.’ And the response was often, ‘Actually, John Lennon didn’t beat his wife. They weren’t even married at the time. And also he didn’t beat her, he slapped her once in the face, and then never did it again.’ No one’s minds were changed. The fans had made their peace, and the antis came off as cynical and pretentious.

When Dashcon happened, and Tumblr took a hard look at its cringey fandom culture, the Beatles fandom evolved as well. The fandom became, frankly, less fun. It no longer felt like a group of people who found the Beatles decades after the 60s and were fangirling like it was 1965. There was still some of that left, but a lot of it kind of faded. So, most fandom interactions were reblogging pictures of the Beatles from the 60s and various interview clips and quotes. But the barrage of antis never really went away, and the response didn’t evolve.

Then, the advent of cancel culture came on. I always waited for the Beatles to get, like, officially canceled, but I also felt they were uncancel-able at the same time. Let me explain. I have been a Beatles fan primarily in an online space, rarely engaging with fans in real life. But I have met fans who are life-long Beatles fans, people who are a lot older than us and who’s fandom isn’t tied to the internet. They don’t give a shit about any of our discourse. They may or may not have heard it before, but they seem totally indifferent to all of it. I’m sure most of them have never heard ‘Mclennon’ before. These are the people that flock to see Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr in concert (and pay astronomical prices for it). These are the people who go to record shops and buy vinyl. These are the people I run into at flea markets who buy up all the Beatles merch before I can even arrive (true story). So, the Beatles will never be canceled because there will always be people who love the Beatles and don’t engage with online discourse. Rarely said, but thank god for Gen-X.

As cancel culture took over the internet, fandoms changed. It’s not as noticeable in fandoms without problematic favs. For instance, I’m also steeped in the Tom Holland fandom, and that boy is a little angel who has done no wrong. No one has discourse about the unproblematic boy who plays an equally unproblematic character. But in fandoms with ‘problematic favs’ the mood has shifted. I’m also in the Taron Egerton fandom. Taron Egerton, for those who only follow me for my Beatles stuff, is a genuinely sweet and kind person who has had zero scandals in his six year career. There were some rumblings when he was cast as Elton John, and some people took issue with the fact that he’s a straight man playing a gay man. This discourse seemed to die quickly as a whole lot of straight people played gay people in that same year (Olivia Coleman as queer Queen Anne, Emma Stone as her queer lover, Rami Malek as Freddie Mercury). Why jump on this boy who at the time was still technically on the rise. He’s not exactly the same target as someone like Scarlett Johansson who has her pick of roles. Taron doesn’t have quite that some power in Hollywood, and I think most people made peace with the fact that this was a big role for him, and it’s not really fair to take that away from him. So, all in all, the closest thing to a scandal was something that died pretty much on arrival.

That was until this summer when everything changed. When George Floyd was murdered, celebrities flocked to social media to mourn his loss. Taron’s social media account was silent. For weeks, Taron said nothing about Black Lives Matter or Floyd’s death. This caused outrage in the fandom. Many raced to defend him, starting a hashtage #IstandwithTaron. Others sought to tear him down and anyone who supported him. The kind of mania this one incident caused tore through an otherwise peaceful fandom. What I saw was two sides in a total panic. The antis were people who once had faith that Taron was a good person and were now questioning that. Andthe defenders were people who desperately wanted him to be a good person and were afraid that he wasn’t. In essence, both sides could feel Taron about to get canceled. The defenders wanted to stop it, the antis wanted to ride that wave.

What this long drawn out Taron example is meant to convey: is that cancel culture has put fandoms on edge. One’s fav has to be perfect, otherwise it can jeopardize the existence of the entire fandom. I’ll admit, I was afraid that I’d be some kind of pariah for standing by Taron through all of this. My actions were to basically reason with the antis but still defend Taron. I defend him mostly because I felt that his silence was the result of a needed social media absence and that trying to shame him back onto social media was an invasion of privacy. But I was genuinely afraid that he would get canceled, and the fun of the Taron fandom would be lost.

In the Beatles fandom, it often feels like the Beatles, mainly John, have already been canceled. I see this coming from two different sources: antis from outside of the fandom and antis within the fandom. The outside antis are just the same as the ones from 2012. These are people who like to drop in that John Lennon beat his wife, posting this in the tag (which violates an ancient tumblr real by the way--no hate in the tags).

The antis outside the fandom speak to a larger anti-John Lennon sentiment online. I see references to John Lennon ‘beating his wife’ on Tiktok and twitter. The tone of anti-John Lennon posts has shifted. Before, it felt like the antis were being smug but also argumentative. They wanted to have a conversation about this bit of info they read on Reddit with no context. Now, “John Lennon beating his wife” is practically a meme. It’s a running joke online that John Lennon was a wife beater. I can’t look on my instagram explore page because every so often a John Lennon beats his wife meme will pop up amongst the other, normal, memes.

This change in discourse suggests that the internet has just accepted this as fact now. I should note that back in 2012, it seemed as if few people knew this fact. The fandom knew it, and these random antis knew it, but few others did. Now, because of how common these memes are, it seems to be widespread knowledge.

Consequently, the Beatles fandom, who used to ward off attacks from antis, seems to have given in. I recently saw a post from a Beatles blog (had the URL and icon and everything) that confessed they felt guilty for listening to the Beatles, and I’ve seen similar sentiments expressed in the fandom. People tend to put disclaimers in posts about John or even all four that John is an ‘awful man.’ It seems like the self-aware ignorant bliss has completely gone away. Occasionally, I still see posts joyously talking about Mclennon or reblogs of old photos from the 60s. But the culture has shifted.

Online, it no longer feels comfortable to be a Beatles fan. It feels like you have to own up to 8 decades of mistakes by four men you’ve never met. And, I should note, this is kind of how it feels to be a fan of anything right now. Taron is not canceled today, but he could be tomorrow. It’s this pervasive feeling of guilt that the person you’re supporting may or definitely has or is doing something wrong.

I’ll admit this uncomfortable feeling has expanded into other parts of my fandom life. I listen to their music, and I feel elated--the way I always have. Then, I get these intrusive thoughts which sound like all the worst parts of Twitter combined. It wasn’t always like this. Back in 2012, when I knew almost nothing about them, I saw them as four young men who were full of happiness, love for another, and talent. Back then, listening to their music was exciting and joyous. Sometimes, I fear that I can never feel that way again. Next year, when I finally go to Liverpool, will I be filled with excitement or guilt?

I say all this for a few reasons. One, I love John Lennon. I appreciate all the good he did for the world not just as a musician and an artist but also his advocacy and charity work. I love him, and a part of me will always love him, but observing the change in discourse has enlightened me as a historian. Part of my job is to observe people’s legacies, and John’s is perhaps the most interesting legacy I’ve ever observed. When he died, he was hailed as a saint. But tall poppy syndrome set in, and the antis started. This culture grew and grew to the point where it seems to, at least among the younger generation, taken over the sainthood.

But as a historian and a fan, I have never seen the saint or the devil. I’ve only seen the man, the incredibly flawed man. The thing that these antis never understand is that John Lennon was painfully aware of his own flaws to the point where it made him all the more self-destructive. In essence, his past mistakes caused him to make additional mistakes. But John, aware of his own flaws, always tried to change and was often successful. I’ve talked about this before, but John demonstrated that he was capable of being a good person, like properly so, again and again. After he struck Cynthia, he never hit her again. His shortcomings as a father to Julian weren’t repeated with Sean. He worked on his drinking, his drug addiction, and his anger, trying to overcome those demons till the day he died. By all accounts, the John Lennon that died in 1980 is not the John Lennon who struck Cynthia Powell at school. That John Lennon was living a cleaner, healthier life. He was a better father to both his sons by that point, and was trying to repair his relationship with Julian. He was a good husband to Yoko and saw himself living a long and happy life.

John Lennon cannot and should not be boiled down to just his flaws. It’s one thing as a fan to acknowledge that John is a flawed human being (news flash: they all are), but he is also much bigger than that.

So once again, why am I writing this long, rambling post, once again talking about John Lennon’s virtues? Because if I can’t engage with healthy discourse about the Beatles and John Lennon, then I can’t engage with discourse on the topic at all. So, I probably will post less Beatles stuff because I find it hard to go through the tags or even my dash (well, I can’t really go through my dash anymore for other reasons I’m not going to get into right now). If any of my followers have noticed a lot of Taron posts lately, it’s not just because I love Taron, it’s because Taron’s tag is pretty much the only location on tumblr I feel 100% comfortable in. Any foray into John or the Beatles tags becomes uncomfortable and guilt-ridden quickly.

So, I probably will post less about the Beatles until I can find a blog or a tag that doesn’t give me bad vibes. My fandom will likely outgrow tumblr and the internet. I have a ton of Beatles books; maybe I’ll rely on those. I am doing official scholarly research on them now. Maybe that will be my outlet. I’m sorry if I post less about them now, but it’s really for my own well-being.

#John lennon #the beatles

54 notes · View notes

ineloqueent · 4 years

Text

Starstruck: Part 10

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 10 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 9 / Part 11

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.

Warnings: swearing

Historical Inaccuracies:

Crystal did not join Queen until November of 1975

There is no attic bedroom at Ridge Farm

Word Count: 6.6k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Before you knew it, it was June, and you were packing your suitcase with the last of the things you were taking home for the summer holidays.

You were absolutely ecstatic to have this year’s exams finished, especially because you’d made very high marks on Carmichael’s final assessment. Brian had done well too, turning around excitedly in his chair when he was handed back his test, waving the paper in your direction with a brilliant smile as he pointed to the percentage marked in red. You’d made a clapping motion in his direction, and he’d mouthed thank you. The gratitude shone in his eyes, and happiness bubbled up inside you at what an improvement you’d helped him to make.

Today, however, frazzled nerves replaced elation, your insides tumbling and your hands unable to stay steady for very long at a time. Today was the day that you would go with Freddie, Roger, Deacy, and Brian to your home at Ridge Farm. Today was the day that you would join two halves of your life, and having never imagined that they would coincide, you were anxious about how it would go.

The day after the expedition to Zandra Rhodes’ flat, you had called your parents to discuss the notion of Queen coming to stay and to use the studio. Your dad had been thrilled, overjoyed that a real band was coming to use his studio, a studio he’d worked so hard to design and to build and to maintain. Your mum was pleased too— it was a long time since you’d had friends over, and she was happy to finally be meeting the people you now spent the majority of your time with, to put faces to names. Your brother would be home too, but, your mum said, “As he’s not yet got up and it’s two in the afternoon, he gets no say in the matter.” And so it was decided that Queen would be spending the summer of ‘75 at Ridge Farm.

Heather, Veronica, and the often-elsewhere Mary Austin would also be joining the party, and plus two roadies, your number totalled to ten. Roger, as the only one with a car, was taking himself, Heather, Freddie, Mary, and his roadie Chris— though everyone called him Crystal— up to the farm. You, Brian, Deacs, Veronica, and John Harris— another of Queen’s roadies— were to take the train.

It was a quarter past one in the afternoon when you shut your suitcase, tossed on a pair of sunglasses, and bid your other housemates goodbye for the summer. Heather, who was to play the role of navigator for Roger, had gone on ahead to his flat because it would take a little longer to reach Surrey by car than by train. You were headed to the Waterloo Station to meet the others in time for the train’s departure at 13:39 for an estimated arrival at Epsom, Surrey, at 14:23.

When you opened your front door, you were surprised to find none other than Zandra Rhodes with her hand raised to knock.

“Oh, hello!” she said brightly. “I was just coming to find you.”

“Me?” you laughed. “How do you even know where I live?”

She shrugged. “Freddie.”

“Ah.”

“Quite.”

You hesitated. “I’d say come in and have a cup of tea, but I’m actually on my way to the train station,” you winced apologetically.

Zandra waved her hand. “It’s fine. I’m busy myself. And I assume today is the day that the band goes off to the countryside? Freddie mentioned,” she explained.

“Yep, off to write an album!”

“Must be so exciting, all that musician stuff,” Zandra mused, shaking her head. “Anyhow, I’m here to give you this.” She handed you a soft parcel wrapped in plain brown paper and tied up with white string. “Go on, open it. You may want to take it with you.”

You looked at her questioningly before setting down your bag so as to free your hands. You pulled at the string and it fell free of the package, which in turn fell open. Inside lay a swath of sparkly black fabric.

Lifting it up from the wrapping paper, you admired what Zandra had turned into a blouse. With a deep v-neck slit, little buttons down the abdomen, a cinched-tie waist and long, cinched sleeves, the blouse was the picture of elegance. It reminded you of the night sky.

“Zandra, it’s beautiful,” you smiled at her. “Thank you. What do I owe you?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” she said. “But, you owe it to yourself to try to impress a certain someone, wearing that top.”

“I haven’t got anyone to—”

“Oh, sure you do!” she exclaimed, such great spirit that it did not cross your mind to contradict her again. “Let me know how it goes when you get back to London, yeah?”

You pressed your lips together. Nothing was going to happen. Nothing ever did.

“Will do,” you said. “And thanks again. Truly, it’s lovely.”

“I know. Have fun!” she waggled her fingers in a wave and looked both ways before striding across the road.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

From Camden you made for Waterloo, and shortly after you arrived, you spotted Brian.

At the familiar sight of gangly limbs paired with a slim figure and a mass of curly hair, standing on the platform with his head bowed over whatever it was he held in his hands, relief spread through you like a warm cup of tea on a cold day. Everything would be okay. This was Deacy and Ronnie and Roadie-John you were bringing to your home. This was Bri— this was your friend you were bringing to your home, not a stranger.

Strangers did not make you feel like this.

Approaching, you found the others close by, chatting and laughing and sharing bags of crisps. Deacy and Ronnie waved at you and John Harris grinned.

Brian looked up when you neared him, and he flashed you a bright little smile, which you couldn’t help but return— his cheeks were rosy and his eyes crinkled, and you would have died for that smile.

Then he raised his Polaroid camera in your direction and clicked the button.

“Brian!” you exclaimed, knowing that there was no way that photo could have turned out well. “Why’d you do that?”

He pulled the photograph from where the camera was spitting it out, shaking it lightly and letting the camera strap hold the camera for him as he shielded his face from the sun with his other hand.

“Candid,” he said happily. “First of many.”

“Not on my watch,” you narrowed your eyes. “Let me see.” You snatched for the photo, but tall and long-limbed as he was, Brian simply extended his arm above his head and held the Polaroid out of your grasp.

His smile was amused when you glared at him for his betrayal, but you weren’t about to give up. You jumped and reached, but he stepped sidelong and shook his head.

“No. You’ll never let me keep it,” he said, sticking out his bottom lip in a rather petulant pout.

At the idea of him keeping a photograph of you— why? did he think of you?— a tingle ran down your sides, but you quelled all straying thoughts when you remembered that you probably looked terrible in said photograph.

“Bri,” you crossed your arms obstinately, “it’s mine. Give it to me, please.”

He continued to pout, but then sighed. “Fine.” he said, lowering his hand and holding the photograph out to you. You took it slowly, cautious not to let your fingers brush his. “But really, don’t throw it away. You look lovely.”

Before you could hide the blush that rose to your cheeks at his remark, he winked, and turning away, he called out for the other three to smile!, taking the picture before anyone could react.

You pushed your sunglasses up onto your head and squinted at the Polaroid picture in the sunshine.

Your gaze had been directed upwards, toward Brian, your chin was lifted in a manner that looked almost proud, or in the very least confident. Your sunglasses had briefly slipped down your nose at the moment the picture had been taken, and so your eyes could be seen, bright and animated in the warm light of the sunny afternoon, and the hair was blown away from your face— sunlight emphasised the dips and planes of your features. You’d worn a sundress because the weather was for once for it, and it had rustled in the wind, sweeping around your legs; you were painted in elegance.

Brian was right.

You looked lovely.

But perhaps the craftsmanship of the photo played a part as well. Despite being a hastily-snapped candid, the photo was framed perfectly, and the light that illuminated your figure was well-contrasted. It was art, in yet another form; Brian seemed inherently capable of creating art in any and every moment. And he certainly knew how to pick his moments. In photography, at least.

“Y/N!” John called to you, and all the others turned to you expectantly. “Train’s here.”

Sure enough, the clock hanging above the platform matched the departure time printed on your ticket. You hurried over with your bags, which was quite a feat, given you had your messenger bag, your guitar in its case— Brian had encouraged you to bring it— and your suitcase. The others were equally badly off— Deacy carrying his bass, Brian with not one but two guitars, Roadie-John with packed-up amplifiers and cords, and everyone carrying suitcases. Deacy in particular looked strained, having insisted upon carrying some of his wife’s things so that her load would be lessened, but subsequently, his own was significantly worsened. You made quite the group.

You caught up with the others and with a few quick hello’s the five of you shuffled alongside the rest of the crowd toward the train carriages.

Brian was at your side and nudged your elbow. “Guitar looks heavy,” he said.

“Mmm…” you murmured. “Some idiot suggested I bring it along.”

He chuckled warmly, and despite the sunny weather, you longed to move closer to his warmth. “I’d offer to carry it for you, but I’m rather decked out myself.”

You sniffed. “I suppose it’s the thought that counts.”

Just then, a man in a time-worn jacket jostled you, and you stumbled.

“Excuse me,” you muttered. But the man continued to try to push past you, past anyone who stood in his way.

You glanced over at Brian to roll your eyes at the man’s behaviour, but Brian’s face had taken on a peculiarly pinched look. He looked angry.

“Oi, mate,” Brian raised his voice slightly. The man didn’t react. “Hey,” Brian said when you got shoved for the third time. He stepped forward. “Hey, watch it!”

The man whirled around with an equally angry expression, but Brian was taller, and he made that fact quite obvious, leaning down and glowering at the other man. Shoulders stiff and eyes dark, though he had no hands free with which to defend himself should the situation take a violent turn, Brian glared with such scorn at the man who’d run into you that anyone would’ve rightly wilted beneath his gaze.

“Bri,” you said, hoisting your guitar onto your back, “let it go.” Brian didn’t move, though the other man bared his teeth. He stared past you like you didn’t exist. Then the rugged man spat on Brian’s clogs, and Brian lurched forward in fury, his bag and cases landing on the ground.

You were quick to step between the two men, placing your palm firmly against Brian’s chest. That caught his attention— his heartbeat quickened beneath your splayed fingers.

“Let it go,” you repeated.

Brian’s eyes flickered, then met yours. You stared down his intensity, unwilling to back down, though your lungs and their rapid intake of breath were inclined to disagree.

His eyes were melted toffee, and beneath them, you could have melted as well. But then Brian inhaled carefully, and with a gentle touch, pried your fingers off of his chest.

He nodded to you in promise to not antagonise the other man any further, then let go of your hand.

You would have intertwined your fingers with his and held them there, if the crowd hadn’t begun moving again.

And if you’d had the courage.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The train sprinted along the tracks from Waterloo to Epsom, and the journey passed quickly. Your arrival in Surrey was perfectly on time, and this day, the weather in your home county was no less pretty than that of London.

From Epsom Station to Ridge Farm was another half-hour or so, but luckily, your dad owned a minibus and was waiting at the station to pick you and the others up.

“Y/N!” your dad called when he saw you.

“Dad!” you rushed forward and dropped your bags, flinging your arms around him. You hadn’t seen him for months, and had spoken to him only every few weeks; you weren’t going to be embarrassed for being happy to see your dad.

“Missed you, love,” he squeezed you tightly.

“Missed you too.”

Then you stepped back so as to introduce the others.

“So we’ve got exactly half of the band here, and the other half I think we’ll intercept on the way home,” you said. “This is John Deacon, bassist and vocalist—”

John laughed. “No no, I can’t sing, Y/N. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Andrews,” he shook hands with your dad. “This is my beautiful wife Veronica,” he beamed upon introducing her. The two of them were so in love, it was ridiculous.

“Hi!” Ronnie said, hardly taking her big eyes off of Deacy.

“Hello there,” your dad greeted them.

“And this is our second John, who crews and just generally is a great help,” you said as Roadie-John strode forward.

“John Harris. But everyone just calls me Roadie-John, to sorta prevent confusion with Deacy over there,” he jabbed his thumb in Deacy’s direction, and your dad laughed amicably.

“So they call you Deacy, then?” he asked John, John Deacon.

“Yeah, or Deacs, or something like that. Seems to have stuck.”

Your dad laughed again, and you smiled, pleased. It seemed he and Deacy would get along well.

Then Brian caught your eye timidly. He looked a bit lost, like meeting new people wasn’t his strong suit. It probably wasn’t— Brian very much conformed to the initially-shy-and-awkward stereotype of an astrophysicist.

“Oh dear, sorry Bri,” you apologised. “Dad, this is Brian.”

“Hello,” Brian said, extending his hand. Your dad shook it.

“So what do you play, Brian…”

“Brian May, Mr. Andrews.”

“Brian May. What do you play then, Brian May?”

“Oh, I play guitar.”

“Any good?” your dad inquired.

“I—”

“Very good,” you interrupted. “He’s actually been helping me to learn to play,” you said, pride in your voice.

“Has he really?” your dad muttered in an odd tone. “My Y/N’s been having quite the trouble learning.”

“Dad…”

“Really? She’s a natural!” Brian smiled disarmingly, but your dad’s expression was set.

“We’ll see,” your dad responded, and you thought he looked rather standoffish. Brian’s shoulders seemed to droop.

You frowned.

“Uh, sha’ we get going, then?” Roadie-John stepped in.

“Yep, yeah, sounds good!” you patted your dad’s shoulder and he made a noise of agreement. He took your bag for you, and took one from Ronnie as well.

“Thank you. Those things are heavy,” she said.

“I’m not actually a rotten husband,” Deacy added, “I’ve just already got my hands full.”

“No one thinks you’re a rotten husband,” Ronnie pulled her arm around Deacy’s waist and leaned her head on his shoulder as you all followed your dad toward parking.

“Well thank goodness for that,” Deacy responded, and Veronica brushed his hair away from his face.

You were so distracted by how Deacy and Ronnie looked at each other, with such unyielding affection and warmth, that you didn’t notice Brian until he was next to you, the sleeve of his cream-coloured jacket brushing your hand.

“Hey,” he murmured, and you slowed your pace, guessing correctly that he wanted to talk apart from the others.

“Hey,” you said back. “What’s up?”

“Um… I don’t… I don’t think…” He stopped, then tried again. “What did I say wrong?” His eyes were soft and pitiful, and he looked so genuinely crushed that you almost threw your arms around him. “To your dad,” he continued. “I think I said something wrong.”

“Brian, what could you possibly have said wrong?”

His curls bobbed as he shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure, but I don’t think your dad’s pleased with me, all the same.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” you said. “He gets like that sometimes, when I introduce my friends. He’s a bit protective of me, I think.”

Brian bit his lip and made no response.

“Cheer up, Bri,” you nudged his side. “You can’t possibly look so sad when you get to spend an entire summer with me.”

“Half. Half a summer,” he corrected you. “D’you think I’ll last that long?”

His grin was brazen and his tongue poked out between his teeth.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re on thin ice, Brian May.”

He only went on smiling.

And you’ll surely melt the rest with that sunny smile of yours.

But no, you had it wrong. He would not melt the ice. He would melt you.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The car ride from the station to your home was mostly uneventful, but as you’d predicted, Deacy and your dad got on like a house on fire. Your dad had studied electrical engineering, which John was studying now, and he played many instruments, including bass guitar. The two were currently occupied discussing electric pianos, and the one that your dad owned, which Deacy now wanted to learn to play.

Veronica and Roadie-John spent the journey playing weird road trip games, half of which you’d never even heard of. You resolved they’d made a few of them up on the spot.

You’d stared out the window, watching the landmarks of your childhood pass you by, pointing out a few of them to Brian who sat beside you. He appeared very interested in it all, to understand where it was you’d grown up, and he asked a multitude of questions concerning your school, an ice cream parlour you’d frequented ever since you were little, and finally, about the lush woods that surrounded the wealth of land that was Ridge Farm. You were happy to answer his questions, and to ask your own of him. He told many stories, and he told them well, upon one occasion eliciting so much laughter from you that your dad raised his eyebrows at you in the rearview mirror.

When the minibus finally rolled up the drive to the main house, your mum stood waving, and your family’s dog, Selkie, bounded back and forth with his tail wagging madly.

Then, Roger’s shiny red Alfa Romeo pulled up beside the minibus, just as you were getting out. Music was blaring, and everyone’s hair was thoroughly windblown.

“Did you even remember sunscreen?” Brian called to the passengers, pulling his guitars from the boot of the minibus.

“Nice to see you too, Bri,” Roger responded, giving Heather a hand out of the car.

“No,” said Mary, trying in vain to comb her hair into some semblance of a ponytail, “we definitely forgot sunscreen.” Gingerly, she touched a finger to the tip of her nose, which was looking rather pink, and winced. “Definitely forgot,” she muttered.

“You’re all pasty-pale,” Freddie laughed, fixing his hair.

“Well,” Crystal returned, “aren’t you lucky, Fred?”

“To be honest,” Heather was swaying slightly on the spot, “I’m not feeling too great. You drive too fast for me, I think, Roger.”

He kissed her cheek. “‘Course I don’t! Have a glass of water and you’ll be perfectly lovely again.”

Heather whacked his arm. “Cheeky.”

Your mum approached the scene, smiling with amusement at the various interactions going on around her.

“Mum!” you said, hugging her tightly. “You’re not at the pub?” Your mum ran the local pub— The Plough— and could thus be found there quite often.

“Hello my darling,” she kissed your cheek. “No, I got your brother to cover for me. It’s good to see you.” She pulled back from the embrace and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “You don’t call nearly often enough.”

“Sorry,” you winced, crouching down to scratch Selkie behind his big, floppy ears as the golden retriever panted happily, having run to you upon seeing you.

“You’re here now, so no need to be sorry!” She smiled her bright smile, the one that never failed to cheer you up, to comfort you, and you knew that she meant what she said. Your mum always meant what she said. It was both a blessing and a curse.

A whirlwind of introductions followed, and apologies too, because your mum worried she’d forget the names of nine new people as quickly as she’d been told them. Of course, no one minded; there would be plenty of time for everyone to get to know each other. Six weeks, to be exact.

Then there was the matter of accommodation. Your parents had yielded the main house to you all, preferring themselves to retreat to the smaller building farther up on the farm. Frank had his granny flat down the path from the main drive, so that left you, the band, their partners, and the roadies divided amongst six bedrooms.

You had your childhood bedroom, Freddie and Mary took a room, Roger and Heather took another, Deacy and Veronica a third. Meanwhile, Brian, Roadie-John, and Crystal drew straws to see who would be sharing and who would get their own room. In the end, Roadie-John and Crystal drew the shorter two straws and ended up in the bunk-beds of the room that your two brothers Frank and Billy had once shared. Brian had looked much relieved by this turn-out, because, as he told you— “My legs wouldn’t have fit on that bed!”

“Well, good you got the room to yourself,” you’d responded. “Though, you could easily have guilted me into giving up my bed to you.”

Brian had laughed, rather nervously. A blush rose to your face when you’d realised how your remark must have sounded. Deacy had then made the incident twenty times worse by turning to you and saying “Y/N, was that an innuendo? I’m proud of you!”

This had resulted in further blushing on your part, and in Brian stuttering out some weak-reasoned excuse about going to unpack.

“What’s his problem?” Crystal had asked, and Freddie had snorted.

“Think for a second, Chris,” Roadie-John had cuffed the back of his mate’s neck.

“Yeah thanks John, that’s going to help me think, you idiot.”

“You don’t need to think, Crystal,” Roger had shaken his head. “It’s pretty bloody obvious.”

“If it’s so bloody obvious, Rog,” you’d interrupted, crossing your arms, “then would you mind pointing it out to me?”

“Oh, darling,” Mary had said to you, almost pityingly, while Roger had laughed.

“No, Y/N, Roger sha’n’t tell you, and nor shall anybody else,” Freddie had put it plainly. “You’ll be blind a while yet.”

And with that cryptic comment, he had wrapped an arm around Mary’s shoulders and dragged the others with him to explore the house and grounds.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

When the sky turned orange and all the land below it golden, your dad had tea ready. He loved to cook and had thus created a masterpiece of salads, grilled vegetables, barbecue, homemade bread, and a variety of dips.

Summer was finally setting in, and so, even in the glow of the six o’clock evening, the sun would not set for at least another three hours.

You and the others had spent the afternoon unpacking, and setting up instruments in the studio. You’d managed to keep everyone’s attention for long enough to show them around said studio, but then Freddie had insisted on more “exploring”, and the others had followed excitedly. You’d offered to give them a tour, but Freddie argued that exploring was more fun, and everyone had agreed wholeheartedly. Except Brian. He’d been lost in his thoughts, sitting in a corner, tuning his guitar as though he intended to begin a songwriting session then and there.

Heather had then tried, and failed, to convince you to join in the exploration. Failed on account that you needed an hour or two to yourself— hanging around nine people, plus your family, was really quite draining. And when you’d looked about the sunlit studio fondly before leaving it for your own room, Brian was nowhere to be found.

When teatime rolled around, you had not seen him for several hours, and he remained elusive even as your mum, your dad, the others, and even your brother Frank who’d slept the day away, gathered in the dining room.

“Oh, this looks delicious,” said Roger enthusiastically, eyeing the food piled up on the table.

Murmurs of agreement echoed all around, but your dad frowned. “Where’s that Brian May got to?”

“Sebastian,” your mum chided. “It’s been less than two minutes since you called us all in. He’s probably just upstairs or something.” Your mum turned to you. “Y/N, would you go look? I’ve just got to let Selkie out.”

“Yep, sure.”

You left the kitchen and bounded up the stairs, smilingly taking two at a time, now that your legs were long enough. You’d always tried to take them two at a time when you’d been little, but you’d never managed more than one set at a time before falling over your own feet.

It was quickly obvious that there was no one upstairs.

Poking your head into the kitchen, you announced, “He’s not upstairs, but I’ll just check outside. You might as well start.” Your dad looked to your mum for approval, and she shrugged.

“Bon appetit, then,” he said.

You slipped on some canvas shoes and jogged down the main path and to the end of the drive, where you stopped.

“Where’ve you gone, Bri?”

Your eyes fell to the green by the path, where tufts of grass had been pressed down in the memory of footprints. Beyond the grass, there was mud, and there too were footprints. And they really were footprints— the person who had made them did not seem to have been wearing any shoes. You set off following the trail.

Down the hill, skirting a meadow, and through the sand by the bank of the river, you stepped with your shoes into the footsteps that had been left.

Finally, you caught sight of the owner of the footprints.

He stood knee-deep in the river, his back to you and his face turned to the canopy of the trees about him.

Birds streaked across the sky above, merely silhouettes against the bright colours of the sky, and the air glittered as ordinary dust turned to stardust in the golden light of the sun.

The river babbled in an almost talkative manner, greeting you— hellohello slosh rush hellohello— and the creatures in the wood had realised your presence, pausing in their activities no matter how careful you made your footing upon the ground. Brian had not realised anything.

A thrush knocked a seedpod against the base of a tree, and other birds twittered merrily in the branches above. The trees whispered their secrets, rustling and passing their leaves along one another’s boughs like notes, and the grass shone in glory green, dotted white flowers conjuring an aura of magic.

You crept along the edge of the clearing by the river, careful not to let Brian notice you. You wanted to notice him first.

His face was expressive— his parted lips, the soft line of his chin in contrast to the sharpness of his wide hazel eyes. His hands hovered by his sides, slim fingers and wrists, the already lightly-tanned skin of his arms showing where he had pushed up his sleeves. His curls were tossed by the breeze and he stared up to the sky with reckless abandon, as though his entire existence hung upon the breath of starlight that would steal across the sky this night and every night after, as though he would give up anything, everything, to be a star as well.

And you understood that he would, because you would too. Without thought, without a single hesitation. Oh, to be a star.

Brian spun around, the water protesting with splashes about his calves, his shoulders tensed and his eyes now wider than ever.

Oh, you’d said that out loud.

“Y/N,” he said, relaxing almost instantly as he recognised you through the rays of sun that streaked across the clearing. “Yes, I’d like to be a star. What a vantage point that would be. I wonder what I might see differently from up there.”

“Everything,” you said. “You’d see everything differently.” You stared up at the sky, the waning crescent of the moon faintly visible in the glow of evening. But Brian was still looking at you; you could feel it. Your skin prickled.

“Would you come with me?” he asked. When you returned your gaze to him, his smile was gentle.

“Oh, but you wouldn’t need me out there, Spaceman. You know it so well.”

“Maybe,” he said, “but it’s lonely out in space.”

You shook your head. “You’d be a star. You wouldn’t think of loneliness. You wouldn’t think at all.”

“Well, while I still have my thoughts, I think that would be preferable to have someone there with me.”

You couldn’t help but stare at him. In an instant you realised that you had been wrong; you didn’t want to be a star, you wanted to feel how starlight looked— ethereal and inspiring, yet powerful. And the closest you’d ever been to feeling how starlight looked was when Brian looked at you.

“You’d give it all up?” you said, and still he gazed at you.“Really you would?”

He hesitated, then said, “Some days, yes. Others, no.”

“Today?” you asked.

There was that gentle smile again. “No,” he exhaled softly, as though he had been holding his breath. “Not today.”

You smiled. “Then hurry up and come back inside. Tea’s waiting, and my dad’s an excellent cook. If you want to get on his good side, then compliment his food.”

“Do you think it’s still possible for me to get on his good side?” Brian began to wade back to the riverbank. “He seemed rather to have made up his mind, this afternoon.”

You held out your hand to Brian as he approached, planting your feet firmly in the sand. “Careful. The rocks are slippery,” you told him. “And no, I think there’s still hope. He’s not as bad as he seems.”

“Oh, he’s not bad, it’s just—” Brian had not heeded your warning and pitched forward. You grasped his hand just before he fell, and he smiled at you gratefully. His fingers were warm where they curled around your own. “It’s just me. I don’t think he likes me.”

“Brian,” you guided him around a particularly mossy rock, “why on Earth does this bother you so much? I’ve never heard you talk like this,” you said honestly.

He finally made it to the riverbank, and the sand dusted his toes, his cuffed trousers dripping water, soaked through because he hadn’t folded them up far enough. “Clearly, you haven’t spent enough time with me. Not to worry, though. Soon to be remedied.”

“Brian.”

He huffed. “Because it’s you, Y/N,” he said, and your heart rose to your throat. “I don’t usually care who doesn’t like me, but they’re your family and you’re my friend.”

Your heart sank.

Once, your insides had warmed when he’d called you his friend, but now things were different. You wanted more from him than just that, and you could admit as much to yourself, even if you couldn’t admit it to anybody else.

But his hand still rested in yours.

Take what you can get. It’s all you’ll ever have.

Your hand curled more tightly around his long, dainty fingers.

He glanced at you, and you realised that you had not said anything for a while. You’d been walking through the wood for minutes and you had not spoken a word, only held his hand, as though you had a right to. You didn’t though, did you?

You pulled your hand from his, and it felt like a severance when he let go.

“Shoes,” you murmured.

“Sorry?”

“You’re not wearing any shoes,” you laughed at the silliness of it.

He looked down at his bare feet and laughed too. “No, I’m not.”

“Why on Earth not?”

“Why on Earth should I?”

“Why not on Earth should you not?”

“Why not on Earth should I not not wear shoes?”

You stopped walking. “You’re absurd.”

He grinned. “And you’re an angel.”

“Oh, so I’m that far gone, am I?”

“Not as far as me.”

“It’s lonely out in space,” you repeated his words from earlier.

“You know,” Brian began as the two of you crested the final hill that led up to the house. “Think I’ll stay around.”

The breeze rustled his curls, and his eyes were bright, his profile illuminated by the sun. A small smile rested on the curve of his lips, and you couldn’t believe that he was real.

You were breathless; he took your breath away.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Tea was not the awkward affair you had expected, with your dad and Brian skirting around each other. It was instead talkative and homely, like the nine extra people at your table had always been a part of your family. It was a shame your brother Billy had decided to stay abroad with his mates this summer; he would have loved all this.

The table itself was taking the meal quite well— it held up, despite the great amount of food and plates and cutlery and glasses and bowls and napkins and trays piled atop its oakwood surface.

It was quite an arrangement, thirteen people around the same dining table, and chairs had been fetched from all over the house, from stools to desk chairs. Perhaps the feeling of closeness amongst you all had been achieved through literal closeness, seeing as the dining table was not meant for more than eight people, and certainly not for thirteen. Knees and elbows knocked, and you had the fortune to be seated next to Bri, whose hand or thigh bumped yours quite often as he reached for something or picked up his knife and fork. He apologised frequently, and every time he apologised and you assured him that it was fine, your stares grew longer and his eyes grew softer.

You could have gazed at him forever. And spoken to him forever, too.

The occupants of the table both roared with laughter and listened attentively as stories both utterly silly and quite serious were shared. There were tales from childhood; tales of Queen from before your time, when they were known as Smile; tales you already knew; tales you had experienced as they had happened, including the recent story of how Roger had plotted and executed his master plan of locking you and Brian in the kitchen. You laughed harder than anyone at that story, because in hindsight, it just seemed so silly, so ridiculous, how angry you and Brian had both been, not at each other, but at being locked into the kitchen with one another. Brian had been sure to describe— in detail— the look on your face when you’d realised that Roger, John, and Freddie had left you in the kitchen, to your own devices.

Your face ached from smiling, and your stomach hurt from laughing, and it was the best pain in the entire world. You wanted to feel like this forever, both young and old at once, young in spirit but wisened by nostalgia and an already great wealth of memories.

And with every glance you stole at Brian, to gauge his reaction to a particular story, or indeed, to nothing in particular at all, you were closer to reaching over and taking his hand in yours again, sliding your hand over the smooth skin of his wrist and palm, and along his slim fingers.

But you didn’t do it. His hands were not yours to hold.

When tea was finished, yawns began to make appearances between words, because it was good and well eleven o’clock at night. You all helped to clear the table and stow leftovers into the fridge, the chatter never ceasing as you communed between the dining room and kitchen. Your dad even broke into song at one point— he’d probably had a little too much to drink— and Roger joined in without hesitation, which led to Heather’s participation, and Ronnie’s, and Deacy’s, and yours, until the entire house was filled with the melodic tune of thirteen people singing ‘Hi Ho Silver Lining’. Your dad swung your mum around the kitchen and she laughed as they danced, and you couldn’t remember the last time your parents had been so carefree. Something about the dynamic of the people around you was extraordinary, and irreplaceable.

It was midnight when you had bid your parents, Frank, and the members of your entourage that had the downstairs bedrooms— Freddie and Mary, Roger and Heather, Ronnie and Deacy— a good night.

Upstairs you trudged alongside Roadie-John, Crystal, and Brian, the former two of whom were arguing about who was to sleep in the top bunk, and who was to sleep in the lower bunk.

At the top of the stairs, Crystal and Roadie-John departed to the left.

“Night,” they chorused, and you and Brian responded in kind.

You made for the last set of stairs that led to your attic bedroom, which you’d always favoured because of its view to the open sky, but you stopped on the first step. You had remembered the polaroid Brian had taken of you, and it burned through your pocket.

You turned back.

“Brian—”

“Yes?”

He had turned back too. Eurydice and Orpheus. If they had both been obligated not to turn back. And had turned back all the same.

The words left your lips in a breathless rush, “Your photograph.”

“My photograph?” he wondered aloud.

You descended the step you’d climbed and walked toward him. His eyes trailed you, and your skin felt warm beneath his gaze.

You held the polaroid out to him, and it felt as though you were handing him your soul. “Have it.”

He blinked at you. “But I thought—”

“You thought I hated it? Yeah, I thought so too. But it’s art. Just like everything else you do. And it belongs to you.”

His lips parted and the world was suspended in that moment.

He took the photograph from your hand, but he barely looked at it. He was looking at you— like he was going to do something.

But of course he wouldn’t. You and your overactive imagination.

“Good night, Bri,” you whispered, and swept up the stairs.

There was no reply.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: the sheer amount of love i have received on this fic is just mind-boggling, not to mention incredibly touching. thank you <3

taglist: @melting-obelisks @stardust-killer-queen @hgmercury39 @topsecretdeacon @joemazzmatazz @perriwiinkle @brianmays-hair

Masterpost / Part 9 / Part 11

#tina's writing #starstruck #brian may #brian may x reader #brian may x y/n #brian may x you #queen #freddie mercury #roger taylor #john deacon #queen fanfiction #1975 #1970s #fic

90 notes · View notes

amostimprobabledream · 5 years

Text

Why I hate Grace.

I was giving my thoughts on Peaky Blinders a few weeks ago and I danced around the subject of my dislike for this character but didn’t have time/room to get it all out. So here it is! Grace fans, you probably want to look away now. So to me, Grace is kind of symbolic of the bad writing on Peaky Blinders, which is especially egregious because usually the writing of the show is good. But right off the bat, her arrival creates a number of plotholes that don't resonate with Tommy's character. Just for a start, nobody seems to find it suspicious that an apparently attractive woman (seriously, people go on and on about how pretty Grace is and while it's not as though she's ugly at all, you can't help but wonder if the Peaky boys merely think so because she's the only woman of significance not related to them) is so determined to be a barmaid in The Garrison, where Tommy, upon seeing her, immediately asks her if she's a whore. Grace is understandably offended by the question, which again makes you wonder why she'd want to work somewhere where such a question isn't just an assumption, but the first thing Tommy asks - we know she's a spy, but the other characters don't.

Then, Tommy corners Grace and starts asking why she keeps being so nosy about the Blinders and their business. They go for a walk and Tommy asks Grace if she's a Catholic. She says she is, but when Tommy points out that no good Catholic girl would walk into a church without making the cross, he immediately exposes her as a liar and points out he also knows that she lied to him about what town she was from, because he asked around and nobody had ever heard of her. So what does he do? He...promotes her to being his secretary? What?

Okay, so you might argue that Tommy puts her in said position to keep an eye on her, or thinks she might be useful if she has the balls to lie to him, but she tells such an easy-to-unravel lie and her excuse is because she wants to "fit in". Again, he lets her off the hook but she covers up a lie with an even more obvious one - if Grace cared about fitting in, she'd make more of an effort to do so, but she keeps demanding Tommy let her sing in the pub and asks questions above her station to Arthur, which got reported back to Tommy. Sure, it's her job to spy on the Peaky boys, but she's so transparent about it that it's honestly ridiculous that Tommy would ever put her in a position that close to his personal affairs. Not to mention, Grace is so inexplicably haughty towards Tommy, telling him, "You disappoint me" when he kisses her. You'd think if she was good at her job, she'd learn to shut her mouth and keep her head down like a decent spy, but she always acts as if she's better than Tommy because, like Polly points out, she's a spoiled little rich girl at heart and she does think herself above the Shelby's.

Then Tommy completely inexplicably chooses to give Grace a fucking gun and tells her some men are going to come in and try to kill him and he's relying on her to bail him out. I know the cops were meant to come in at the stroke of six and they fuck up, but WHY would you ever place that level of trust in someone you already know is a liar? Sorry, but I just don't buy that Tommy was blinded by "love". I can buy that maybe he was curious about Grace, possibly even fancied her a bit, but definitely not so stupid that he thinks it's a good idea to put his fucking life in the hands of a woman he knows basically nothing about. She could have fallen out of the sky for all he knows. Tommy even continues to trust Grace after she kills an IRA guy right in front of him because she sobs, "I didn't know I had it in me like that", yet she disobeyed his instructions and whenever Arthur or John do that, Tommy gives them a bollocking. He lets Grace off, again, for seemingly no reason other than she played the damsel in distress role and he buys it. This doesn't make Tommy look like a smart man blinded by love, it just makes him look like an idiot around Grace.

Also, there seems to be an uncomfortable level in Tommy/Grace of Tommy getting a kick out of using Grace to piss Campbell off. It's pretty obvious Campbell has a creepy crush on her, and Tommy exploits that for all it's worth when he explicitly rings Campbell to inform him that he's going to bang Grace. (Incidentally, their sex scene made me go, "Oh, I guess they're gonna fuck now. Yup." It was like they did it because the screenwriter said so.) He's basically cucking Campbell and I think it's a big reason why even Grace fans admit that she's "not as good" in Season Two - Grace just doesn't work without Campbell around. At least in Season One you can argue that every shitty thing Grace does to Tommy/the Peaky Blinders is partly because of her job as a spy and Campbell is her boss. In Season Two, there are no excuses for the way Grace acts. She's a selfish, self-righteous hypocrite. She jumps at the chance to go to Birmingham on the offchance it was Tommy who called, then acts all offended when he assumes she came to sleep with him, to the point she actually smacks him in the face. What does Tommy do about this? Nothing. When Grace complains they could have run away to New York together, all Tommy says is, "I had things to do", instead of asking Grace why she thinks he'd abandon his family, business, friends and country all to chase after the woman who sold him out to his worst enemy. Grace honestly expected Tommy to put her first after everything she did to him. I won't act like Tommy is a saint in this - he did nearly pimp her out to Billy Kimber - but at least he acknowledges it was wrong of him to do and he never acts like he occupies any moral highground like Grace does. When Grace admits she sold Tommy out, she sobs she "did a terrible thing," yet never tries to actually help him out in a way that would put her at risk - she quit her position, sure, but Campbell's creepiness had gone so far as to propose marriage to her, Grace was still looking out for herself when she left, because it got her away from Campbell. She asked Campbell to spare him, knowing full well that Campbell has wanted Tommy dead since day one. She plays the damsel in distress again and she's pissed when Tommy doesn't fall for it a second time. Then when she talks about her husband, she tries to rub it in Tommy's face how he's “a good, kind man”, but then quickly backtracks on that to fuck Tommy anyway because her husband is impotent - and Grace just can't deal with not getting what she wants. Tommy's rich enough to afford to buy a house for Ada and Polly by this point, he's running Birmingham and seeking to expand into London, so Grace pulls the oldest trick in the book and gets pregnant - then Tommy has to do the responsible thing and marry her, because the baby is his and it's literally the only piece of leverage she has over May. (May even points out that she's been stringing Tommy along and all Grace can do is throw the fact that "Grace's Secret" is the horse's name at her. Again though, did Tommy call it that to piss off Campbell? This was before Grace returned to Small Heath but after Campbell had, so I think yes.)

Then in Season Three, again, Grace is pretty much a pointless character, because she has no purpose anymore outside of being "Tommy's wife". Campbell is dead and so the conflict of her character in Season One, as contrived as that was, is gone. People complain about Grace being stuffed into a fridge and whatnot, (and tbh, you could say that about Freddie, but Freddie also served his purpose in Season One after he buried the hatchet with Tommy), but honestly I think that it was all they could think to do with her because Charlotte Riley was unable to pick up her role as May for Season Three, so they had to work around it. It's the only explanation I can think of about why Grace is just such a blatantly awful person in the Second Season - I've heard people say before that Tommy leaving the field after his assassination was prevented would have been the perfect ending to the season, but that scene at the end where he returns to The Garrison and announces he's getting married seemed really hastily tacked-on - I feel like it was added because they were forced to rewrite the drafts for Season Three and put whatever plans for May they had on the shelf. Not to mention, Grace's actress Annabelle Wallis has apparently stated she hates May because she's "annoying" and "gets inbetween Tommy and Grace". No, Grace got in the way of Tommy and Grace - she's the one who chose to leave Birmingham after she got exposed as a Mole instead of taking the consequences! And also, how is May the annoying one? At least she doesn’t whisper all her lines. It's just so immature of the actress to bash on the character and encourage ship wars, especially considering Grace comes out the winner of the love triangle, so what's the bitterness about? (I've not heard what her opinion is on Lizzie, but I doubt it's as hostile, because it's made obvious in the show that Tommy doesn't love Lizzie the same and the poor girl is constantly competing with a dead woman for her husband's love.) Plus, in Season Three, the wedding is all about not upsetting Grace, Tommy's family have to play nice with Grace's family, and Polly is once again the only person who knocks Grace's smug ass down a peg by reminding her that the family haven't forgiven or forgotten Grace's crimes against them - the only reason they're putting up a pretence of tolerating her is for Tommy's sake. Not hers. Not everybody in the world wants to accommodate Grace. Killing Grace was honestly the highlight of the entire Season, because I couldn't stand watching her smirking over how she got everything she wanted when she didn't pay for any of it. (Polly is also the only one who comments on how Tommy has conveniently forgotten all the shit she pulled on him and Tommy acts like she was a totally innocent bystander when she got killed and it’s like, no, Tommy, baby. Grace knew what she was getting into when she married him and he knew that - it’s pretty much common knowledge that everybody who is even tangentially associated with the Peaky Blinders gets hurt eventually, just look at how Ada was nearly gangraped even though she hadn’t been involved with the family business for two years.)

Come Season Four and Five and there's already a problem here - there is still more to talk about with Grace, even though she’s dead and Tommy spends most of Season Three rampaging over her death. But he just inexplicably won't let go of her. And again, this doesn't come across as Tommy being so in love with Grace he can't fathom a world without her, it comes off like her actress has dirt on the director or something. He constantly hallucinates the bitch, we hear her singing all the time, it's kind of implied that Tommy prefers Charles over Ruby because Charles a boy and has a saintly dead mummy while Ruby is the daughter of a former whore (not that Tommy doesn't love Ruby, obviously, because he absolutely does), and what really annoys me about Tommy hallucinating Grace is that she's the only character he does this with. He doesn't dream about Greta, his first love, he doesn't dream of Danny or Freddie or his mother. He doesn't even fucking dream about John! Remember John, Tommy's little brother he knew his entire life? Apparently nobody else does! No, it's always all about Grace, who keeps helpfully telling Tommy to hurry up and kill himself so he can be with her again. This doesn’t seem like an out-of-character, guilt-induced vision - it mimicks her attitude in Season Two, that nothing else in his life can be as important as she is.

And that's why I hate Grace. (Please don’t send me rude or hateful messages over this post, it’s just my opinion and it’s pretty much irrelevant anyway since I doubt Stephen Knight is going to stop using Grace up as some kind of martyred dead saint anytime soon. I just wanted to get this rant out of my system.)

#Peaky Blinders #Grace Burgess #Tommy Shelby #May Carleton #Rant #Chester Campbell #Polly Shelby #Blogging

579 notes · View notes