This is Tumblr, we're all wild animals with zoomies. Please share your thoughts.
You right... you're so right
Time to vomit all of my thoughts then-
I’m gonna have to be so sparring with the pictures due to the 10 image limit *sob* whatever i'll figure it out,,
Also I'm gonna say this- Freddy isn't possessed by Michael Afton in this. I don't mind Glammike, but I love the idea of Freddy just becoming a “deviant” I guess. Robots becoming human. They should totally make a game or something… wink wink.
I'm gonna just dig into the lyrics and breakdown my thought process for some of the frames… (I'm not doing every lyric, only some that stood out)
So, the meaning of “My Way” is based around self determination, that's the basic gist. I personally interpreted it as individualism, seeing how the lyrics have certain phrases based around it.
I had heard this song at the beginning of this year and immediately thought of Freddy. I also remember hearing the ai cover version at one point… (moving on)
And it was pretty obvious that most people agreed that this was his song.
Let's break it down >:]
And now, the end is near
And so I face the final curtain
I started the scene with Freddy walking on the third floor atrium, and I guess I took “I face the final curtain” literally since he's looking at the main stage lmao
My friend, I'll say it clear
Small side note, it's literally the most miniscule detail, but I felt like he was referring to Bonnie when he said “my friend” … It doesn't help that he's on the same floor as Bonnie Bowl.
I've lived a life that's full
Freddy reflecting about his “life” performing alongside his friends, I specifically added Chica because she's one of the remaining members of the original trio. :)
Regrets I've had a few
But then again, too few to mention
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption
This verse was the best way to describe Freddy's situation. He had to not only escort this kid around the pizzaplex but he had to make sure Gregory wouldn't get hurt. He didn't want to hurt his friends but he couldn't let them hurt Gregory either. While it's shown that the other glamrocks were shattered, him saying he has regrets, I thought about whether or not he did the shattering himself or it was Gregory.
I mean, canonically, it was all Gregory's doing, Freddy was an accomplice… (sort of), but in the back of my mind, a messed up part of me wanted it to be Freddy's doing. Especially when we get to the confrontation scene. Honestly it can be interpreted both ways. I've read a fic where Freddy killed his friends… very gruesome but badass.
Anyways have a Freddy ear wiggle... cutest fucking thing ever.
Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all, and I stood tall
And did it my way
Another one of those verses where I went fucking crazy and said “THAT'S HIM.”
So as it's seen in the animatic, Freddy is trying to keep Gregory safe. Gregory was originally going to be in his stomach hatch during this fight scene, but as I mentioned, Freddy wouldn't have wanted him to be in serious danger, so.. I changed it to him carrying Gregory.
“I'm sure you knew when I bit off more than I could chew” refers to Gregory being aware of how much he was in danger, and Freddy deciding to bite the bullet towards confronting his friends. Even if it meant someone was going to get hurt.
“When there was doubt, I ate it up and spit it out.” God, I loved drawing Freddy clenching his fists. The hesitancy before just accepting that he has to protect Gregory at all costs. Maybe I took some of the lyrics and made them slightly literal? Idk. Either way, this scene was powerful, especially when he and Monty clashed together.
“I stood tall” to me shows how Freddy was no longer going to let his soft persona get in the way. This part was just very fun to draw and put together… :3
I've loved, I've laughed and cried
I've had my fill, my share of losing
And now, as tears subside
I find it all so amusing
Once again Freddy is thinking about his friends and life, I found this part kind of hard? Originally I wanted him to be surrounded by his friends, and have it fade to just him standing alone, but I didn't like how it was drawn lol. I improvised and had it be a poster instead.
Also there's something heartbreaking about how he examines his plushie. “I find it all so amusing”, I interpreted that as him being melancholic about the situation, looking between the plushie and Gregory by the exit.
To think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way
Ah yes, Freddy setting the plushie on fire. I like to think he makes up his mind at that moment that none of this was worth it anymore. Once again, that interpretation of him being complacent to his friends being shattered kinda fits into this line a little, “I did all that”, as if he's surprised he had it in him to go that far to protect Gregory.
I did it my way
…self explanatory. Freddy said, “Yeah nah I'm done. Burn this bitch to the ground.”
I mean, that's basically the fire escape ending if I'm being honest. Mine's just funnier.
For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught
To say the things he truly feels
And not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows
And did it my way
The final stretch. So this verse is pretty heavy, also I had to pace this correctly… I'm surprised I managed to fit the climax in.
“For what is a man” when I heard that line for the first time… fire no pun intended. It's also kinda ironic(?) Freddy says this, since he's an animatronic… but me personally, I saw it as an epiphany for him. He's acknowledging his own individualism, and that's all he has now. He made the decision to protect Gregory, to fight his friends, and now he's making the choice to burn everything down.
“To say the things he truly feels, and not the words of one who kneels” Good shit. He's not taking orders from anyone anymore, he's gone full deviant now.
And with the confrontation with Vanny, he makes the impulsive decision to take her out, going down with her. “I did it my way” the grand climax of the song, where he throws both of them off the building… lowkey my favorite part. I had fun using the tracking tool on the editing program to make them pan across the screen in slow mo…
But yeah, Freddy was gonna go down his own way- even if it was unnecessary.
Yes it was my way
The fall and the brief daze and fear in his eyes…
There's something about the acceptance in his eyes that makes my chest swell.
I'm surprised I haven't cried to this animatic yet.
I'm sure I'm not the only person who doesn't like this ending of SB… it's so weird and confusing. I laughed my ass off watching it due to how whacky it was… also I still believe that Vanessa on the roof was an apparition/ghost. Idk… it makes sense to me.
The fact that I made this ending have more impact makes it more satisfying. I know it was very indulgent but like… that was the point. I know Freddy's characterization in the game is pretty limited, outside of him being a goofball, but he had genuine moments where there was something else there (I'm looking at the true ending scene).
Listen, I headcanon Freddy as someone who's sweet and puts on his best face but has the entire company of FazEnt on his shoulders and all he can do is tolerate it because he was made to entertain. Having him not only have an existential crisis but an epiphany lets Freddy shine a little more.
I say the best part during the animatic process is looking at the lyrics and breaking them down for the story. It helps with pacing :)
I plan to do another fnaf animatic this weekend, so look forward to some wips… if I decide/remember to share
Feel free to ask me anything, I'll try to answer them!
:)
25 notes
·
View notes
afrofuturism🪐
☆ one ~ solange hair by darknightt (tsr warning) ☆ two ~ loretta hair by @simtric ☆ three ~ bahati braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ four ~ isonoe hair by octetsica ☆ five ~ binah braids by @sheabuttyr ☆ six ~ cornrows & curls hair by @leeleesims1 ☆ seven ~ indie hair by @sashima ☆ eight ~ loc petals by @shespeakssimlish ☆ nine ~ mnemosyne hair by octetsica ☆
mini dedication essay to black simmers and ts4 creators below! pls read if you have the chance! <3
this edit is a small homage to afrofuturism and the various unique black hairstyles (and especially the black creators of most of these hairs) that i have downloaded and admired over the years! some of these are old and some of these are new.
to me, afrofuturism means constantly honoring/reclaiming/challenging the past while constantly creating/dreaming of a better society/world/future. a society/world/future that embraces and empowers all of our differences, ingenuity, aspirations, and unique lived/cultural experiences. a society/world/future that does not limit us through the various systems of marginalization and oppression (racism, homophobia, transphobia, fatphobia, sexism, xenophobia, ableism, classism, colorism, etc.) that often affects how we, as black people, live today.
blackness is so diverse and intricate yet it's always been a struggle to find my culture within a game that's known for being so limiting, bland, and extremely eurocentric when it comes to hairstyles, clothing, food traditions/events, etc. black simmers have always had to figure out how to make this game more inclusive and make it resemble either more like how our ancestors lived, how our current lives are, or how we would want our lives (and even our children's lives) to look like in the future no matter how dystopian the real world look and feel now. fortunately, these hairs and their uniqueness bring a huge sense of culture and style to this game. they have always inspired me and made me feel extremely proud to a part of the lovely african diaspora (and the ever-growing black simmer community).
in a way, being a black simmer and cc creator usually means that we are often digitally creating our own worlds as afrofuturists to varying degrees (whether we know it or not) every time we open our game, make our sims, make houses, and/or make black cultural cc. also, now i know that cc making is not easy to do and is extremely time-consuming so this post is also just me giving all black cc creators especially those who create for free their well-deserved flowers! here are some other black cc creators who created cc that have greatly impacted my game since i first started playing sims 4: @/leeleesims1 @/simtric @/hi-land @/yuyulie @/sims4bradshaw @/ebonixsims @/xmiramira @/sheabuttyr @/qwertysims @/oplerims @/sleepingsims @/shespeakssimlish and so many more im forgetting probably (im too shy rn to tag ppl but i greatly appreciate y’all fr i hope y’all telepathically get this message somehow 😭).
last but not least, i am hoping that this inspires somebody to keep creating or start creating regardless of what they think their skill level is! somebody will absolutely fall in love with your work and/or your art/work will 100% change someone's game forever <333
714 notes
·
View notes
Yeet.
A/N: this is just pure word vomit. I’m so sorry. The title is SO bad but I was giggling so hard when I wrote it. Also this is literally so fucking self-indulgent.
Summary: Spider-People have a sixth sense. This is common knowledge to anyone who intimately knows one. What you didn’t know however was that it can occasionally misinterpret intentions, leading to disastrous results.
Hobie Brown x gn!Reader
Contents: No use of Y/N, anxiety mentions, reader gets full on thrown through a window, reader dissociates (symptoms of dissociation are described in depth), reader gets injured, angst, hurt/comfort
————
It was mid-afternoon, the sun starting to lower towards the sky-line as you hauled your bags back from the grocery store. It wasn’t a long walk, not by any means, by the bags were heavy with ingredients for dinner and the sun was at the perfect angle to shine in your eye.
As you dragged yourself through the lobby of your apartment you could feel your heart flutter at the gentle vibration of your phone in your pocket. Hobie must be telling you that he entered through the window. How you longed to see him, today had been impossibly long and he had a subtle way of making everything better.
As you shuffled your way into the elevator, smacking the button awkwardly with your elbow, you impatiently watched as you rose through the levels of your apartment building.
It felt like a century. But eventually you were met with the sweet ding of the elevator reaching the correct floor. You dragged yourself one last time out of the elevator and down the hall, however instead of the sound of sweet guitar cords you were met with silence.
You anxiously creep down the hallway. When Hobie comes over he always plays his guitar loud enough for the whole floor to hear. As annoying as it was to your neighbors you couldn’t find it in you to ask him to stop, the sweet melody melting the stress right off your bones.
You somehow manage to mangle your key out of your pocket without putting anything down, and as soon as you’re inside you’re dropping your groceries without a care in the world and pulling out your phone.
As you unlock it your worst fear is confirmed, it was Hobie texting you alright. Him not playing his guitar almost certainly meant something was horribly wrong. To make matters worst Hobie had said he had a “surprise” for you. That made the anxiety in your stomach twist even harder, the idea of one of Hobie’s many enemies capturing him, or using you to get to him sparking to life in your mind.
You leave the door to your apartment open a crack, just incase you need to run, and creep down the hallway. The door to your bedroom is open just a crack, and light is spilling out of your room, causing you to hold your breath as you creep closer.
You perch on your toes, hoping to decrease the chance of someone hearing you as you near the door, hands posed at your side, ready to fight for your life or run as fast as your legs could carry you at a moments notice.
You lean on the door frame and push the door open another few inches using the side of your foot, holding your breath as the hinges let out a loud squeak.
When you don’t hear any immediate threats coming from inside the room you carefully shift your weight forward, gripping the door frame like it would keep you from harm.
You feel your heart leap with relief as you see not one of Hobie’s enemies, but Hobie himself. He’s sitting in your desk chair, facing the closed window. He has his guitar in his hands, but that is not what stands out to you. Instead what stands out is the pair of headphones on his head, forcing his wicks out of the way in a messy way that shows he has not taken much care when placing them on his head in the first place.
You scrunch your nose in delight at the comical sight and decide that some teasing is in order, after the near heart attack he gave you.
You creep forward, your movements reminding you of a cat as a Cheshire grin grows on your face. You still completely when you’re in pouncing distance and you see Hobie’s finger still on his guitar strings. A small cue, but one that indicated you’re plan would be foiled if you didn’t attack right… Now!
You pounce forward, you barely feel your nails scrap the thread of Hobie’s shirt before a firm force is pressing on your stomach, pushing you up and over yourself.
You can barely breath, a second and an eternity pass as you crash through the air.
You don’t think you’ve ever hit anything as hard as you just did.
The top of your head and one of your shoulders feel the crunch of the impact first, but it does nothing to slow your movements as your thighs crumple downwards you, and then past you still.
It doesn’t take you long to realize that you’re falling.
Not that you had a long time to realize.
You didn’t realize that you had the instinct to face the ground. Was that something that was impeded in every human? Or were you simply privy to this trait as you saw your boyfriend leap through the air on a near daily basis?
Whatever the cause, your descent is stopped by the feeling of something pulling on your back. It reminds you of how a bully would pull on your backpack in middle school, only if the bully was a double-decker bus instead of a 12 year old.
Your internal debate on the nature of 12-year-old assholes is stopped as you feel an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in through the cracked frame of a window.
You didn’t remember being pulled in the wrong way through the air. Traveling in reverse. But it would be impossible to forget Hobie’s face staring at you with as much concern as you’ve ever seen on it, eyes wide and almost glassy.
You can feel the tightness of his grip on your shoulders, and you’re sure his fingerprints will be imprinted in your skin. You can see his mouth moving quickly but you can’t hear his voice.
You look vaguely at the busted window frame, the wood is cracked and splintering in nearly a hundred places. You fear your landlords reaction when he sees that. How are you going to explain it?
You feel Hobie gently brushing your forehead with his thumb, pulling you from your thoughts. You look down and see small specks of glass, almost like glitter, dusting your lap. You raise a hand to your head and it comes back a deep vermilion, you swear it sparks the same as that damned glitter.
You feel Hobie’s hand on your cheek, turning your eyes towards him.
“You with me?” Hobie’s eyes are large and concerned, troubled brows peering at you.
You can barely find the strength to make eye contact, mind still far off, falling through the atmosphere, clouds catching in your throat.
You feel Hobie’s firm thumb on your cheek, consistent pressure pulling your mind back down to earth.
“Hey now. Focus on me.”
You blink a few times, and slowly feel your bones becoming solid once more. You can hear the traffic out the window, Hobie’s breathing, feel the warmth of blood on your head. You find your chest naturally matching the rhythm of Hobie’s as he breathes deeply, prompting you to copy him.
You go to reach up to your head once more, intent of seeing how bad your injury is, but Hobie grabs your wrist and pulls your hand back down.
He stares at you for an intense moment before he scoops you up bridal style, being so incredibly gentle as he stands.
“Let’s get you cleaned up Luv.” He sounds more quite and subdued then you have ever heard him. He walks oh so gently, slow and smooth so as not to bump or jostle you.
He sits you down on the counter of the bathroom gently, and pulls a first-aid kit out from under the sink. Typically it is you patching him up after patrol, looks like the tables have turned this time.
He works in utter silence. His first mission is staunching the wound on your head. It’s no where near the point of requiring stitches, it had simply bleed a lot as head wounds are prone to doing. He cleans the wound efficiently, and before you know it the wound is hidden by a thick, white bandage on your forehead.
The rest of your wounds are thankfully small, and don’t take much treatment. After a few wipes from a damp cloth and some Neosporin your wounds are treated. The only evidence that still prove the incident occurred recently is your blood stained clothing.
Hobie stays in the same spot he was in as he treated your wounds, hovering almost. His normally large presence has shrunk and if your didn’t know better you’d say he was trying to hide himself away from you.
You are staring at your hands, finding your fingers very interesting as the intense silence clouds the air, closing in around your throat you want to say something to break it, but your throat chokes in on itself as soon as you open it.
“I’m sorry.”
Hobie looks so small as he whispers those words to you. His hands are ghosts on your thighs, you can feel him, but you’ve never felt so separated from him. He eyes the tile of the bathroom and you can practically see him beating himself up, pulling away from you in a belligerent attempt to protect you.
You gently place a hand on his cheek and turn his face towards yours, forcing him to look at you. “I don’t blame you.”
“I know.”
“I still trust you.”
He glanced away from you briefly, and blinks aggressively like he’s fighting off tears. “Are you sure you should?”
Instead of a verbal response you take one of his hands from your thigh and guide it your head, setting the tips of his fingers right on the thick bandage that lays there. “This is proof that you care. That it was an accident and we both regret it. I trust you with my life.”
He suddenly lurches forward, pulling you into his body with a sob. You hold him gently as he cries into you, rubbing his back comfortingly, letting him feel his emotions and let them out.
You have no idea how long you sat there on your bathroom counter, blood stained clothing as you try to piece back together the broken pieces of your boyfriend without any words. But none were needed.
686 notes
·
View notes