sorry for updating twice within 24 hours, but i had this already halfway written out and im pretty proud of it
this whole wad of text is just one big heap of headcanon backstory that i conjured up over time, with lil inspirations from here and there thrown in. what you're about to read is something i made up from my human freddy, his character design can be seen here on my tumblr - post/108948520549/mixed-feelings-about-this-but-look-at and his child design is right here - post/106464823674/i-tried-drawing-teenage-freddy-but-i-could-never i made backstories and personalities for the four originals because im lame and i like to exploit them because my favorite thing to do is create characters and add on to characters that aren't mine...btw i dont own five nights at freddy's! :-) ok but yeah, if this gets good reviews i'll most likely write up full pieces for bonnie chica and foxy, because without them, you wont really know the end of freddy's story...so enjoy!
when you get to the part of the story where freddy enters the cafe, take a gander at this watch?v=SYoc8h75KVM since it was the inspiration for that scene of him walking in...to set the mood, if you will lmao but you dont have to if you dont want to. ok, read on.
He wasn't chubby, he was just "big boned". All his relatives came to see him; his aunts with their heavily applied lipstick kissing his baby cheeks, uncles pretending to be tricksters while pulling a shiny penny from out behind his ear, and his older cousins who ranged from five to ten, tugging at his fatty legs and pinching his nose. His mother held him tenderly but was busy socializing with the guests to notice his fidgeting and whimpers. When she did, she promptly handed him over to the nursemaid.
"What a pair of stunning blue eyes on him!" An aunt delicately brushed a few curls away from them. "Just like mother."
A proud man stood to his tired wife who held his child. He chortled and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "The brightest blue eyes in the family. They'll be his best feature, I can tell you all that."
A few soft chuckles sounded around the parlor. The rest of the hour went by pleasantly, with small chatter over treats and tea, frequent passing around the new born, and opening up the care packages they received. The mother started to feel light headed and faint, so she rang for the nursemaid to take the baby away and put him down for a nap in the nursery. With a small "Yes ma'am", the nursemaid held the child close to her chest and climbed the spiral staircase and into the first room she saw at the end of the corridor on the second floor. The nursery expanded out to nearly the same size as the parlor, decorated and warm robins egg blue, a chandelier hanging in the center of the room, a wooden horse with a collection of sewn stuffed animals, and lace drapes that blocked out most of the afternoon sun. A hand crafted quilt with pastels and embroidery of teddy bears hung over the railing of the pearly white crib as the nursemaid gingerly laid the snoozing baby down and took the quilt to cover his sprawled out form. She took a clean pacifier from the pocket of her apron and slipped it in the baby's mouth and smiling gently before she leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.
"Sweet dreams, Frederick."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
"Now," the governess brought her glasses back on her nose, "try it again."
The body squirmed in his chair. Taking a deep breath, he kept his eyes focused on the wall in front of him. "Six times one is six. Six times two is twelve. Six times three is eighteen. Six times four is twenty-four. Six times five is thirty. Six times six is thirty-six. Six times seven is forty-two. Six times eight is..."
His eyes darted from the wall to his tutor and then to his shoelaces. "S-six times eight...is...50? No..."
Sighing, the governess placed her book down on the table.
"No, it's, uh...46..47?"
"Or 42? Or 57? 63?" The governess held her hands firmly in her lap, mocking the boy, practically staring down at him over the rims of her glasses.
The young boy kept his head bowed and held back his tears. "I'm sorry Miss Manning...I studied this time, I swear."
The women didn't reply at first and instead looked down at him, thinking. Without a warning, she picked up her book and her bag and headed for the door. "We'll pick up at the seven times table tomorrow." When the governess turned to grab the door handle, it opened up, revealing the nursemaid on the other side holding a stack of towels. "Good day, Meredith."
"Good day." The nursemaid side stepped instinctively as the older woman marched right past her. When she did, she poked her head in and saw the little boy still sitting down, a couple of tear droplets staining his collared shirt.
"Hey." The nursemaid cracked a smile and took a step inside. "Hey, Freddy?"
The boy lifted his eyes and blinked away the rest of his tears. "Yes?"
Closing the door behind her and putting down the clean towels, the nursemaid held her gown and rushed over to his side, placing a hand on his back. "Wanna star our lesson a little early today?"
A toothy grin broke out on the boy's tear stained face as he ran a hand across his stuffed nose. "Yes!" He quickly hopped off his chair and hurried to the back of his room where there sat a grand piano by the window. It had a thin layer of dust on it and the seat was a bit stiff from it hardly being used, and was usually covered by a large white blanket whenever it was forgotten for extended periods of times. But it was moments like this where his nursemaid finished all her chores for the day that she was able to sneak into Freddy's room and resume their piano from where they last left off. This has been going on ever since Freddy could walk and talk. Being around his maid for most of his life, he picked up her interests and mannerisms; the one Freddy took the most admiration to was music, singing, and playing on the piano.
Meredith shuffled across the room and dusted off the piano seat and patted the empty space next to her with a giddy smile. The little boy happily hoisted himself on the empty seat and cracked his knuckles as his nursemaid pulled out a book filled with sheet music.
"Now, do you remember the song we played last time?" She asked sweetly. Freddy frowned in thought and then nodded. "Yep."
She smiled. "Good. So you can play it for me all the way through."
This caught Freddy off guard. His head spun with panicked blue eyes staring up at Meredith. "What? A-all by myself? But...what if I mess up?"
"Don't worry, honey," She patted him on the shoulder. "No one else here but me, and I would never judge you. Do your best, okay?"
The small boy still looked unsure and begin to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. The nursemaid leaned down to look him in the face. "Would you like me to sing while you play?"
Freddy pouted before a tiny smile itched its way on his chubby face. "Okay."
He fixed his posture, stretched his muscles and waited a few seconds until he got an approving nod from his instructor until he began to play. It was out of tune at first but it wasn't too bad once Meredith pointed a finger towards the correct key patterns. He loosened up within the first bar of the jolly tune and started to smile when her nursemaid began to move her hands to the music, singing along with the tune.
"Come and meet those dancing feet,
On the avenue I'm taking you to,
Forty-Second Street."
Freddy giggled to himself as his fingers danced across the keys effortlessly once he got into the grove and comfort of playing all by himself. Meredith closed her eyes, wagging her fingers to the rhythm as she projected her voice more clearly over the notes.
"Hear the beat of dancing feet,
It's the song I love the melody of,
Forty-Second Street."
Before they could start the next verse, Meredith froze when she picked up the sound of footsteps walking up the long staircase, the clacks of their shoes echoing off the empty walls. "Freddy!" She whispered and held her arm out in front of him, making him stop to look at her curiously.
"Go to our backup plan."
Freddy's mother approached the last step and paused to listen to the melody that wafted its way down the hallway leading to her son's bedroom. She wrinkled her nose and quietly approached his door, cracking it open a bit to take in the sight and sound of Meredith sitting perfectly still next to Freddy who was playing a soothing lullaby.
His mother was less than impressed. "If I hear that boy play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star one more time..."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
After flourishing in his love for musicals, Freddy begged his parents for him to peruse an outside theater class; one of the most prestigious ones in town that his parents were skeptical about. His mother was lenient about putting down the money but its took his father many weeks of convincing to pay for only one semester which lasted eight weeks, and by the end, everyone enrolled puts on a performance. Very excited to start his first day, Freddy asked Meredith to help him warm up and put on a good impression before he was dropped off. Once he got there, he immediately felt like an outcast. The other kids there were rich-richer than him. They all looked as if they've been through this process before and were skilled enough. Most held their noses high in the air, others stayed in little groups and cliques. Standing by the back wall all by himself, Freddy held his sheet music close to his chest, eyes scanning the room for anyone friendly to talk to. It was too bad he couldn't find any, which led him to believe that he should back out now, afraid that no one would like him or think he was talented. Freddy sighed and bowed his head until he was ordered to go sit down and take a number.
Child after child went up on the polished stage with velvet curtains, standing at the edge and in the bright spotlight. They all blended together, however. None of them stood out to Freddy. They sand the same tunes, did similar tap routines or reenacted the typical Shakespeare diatribes. At the foot of the stage sitting in the first row were a few adults, most likely the instructors for the program. They all held clip boards on their laps but looked on intently whenever someone got up to preform. When a child was finished, they whispered to themselves and scribbled something down. He noticed how stoic they looked, and how tired they were. Even though they were still yet to be impressed, their facade still left Freddy feeling weak and regretting his decisions. He didn't have much time to think before his number was called and he was slowly dragging his feet to the front microphone, disregarding all his fear when he felt a certain adrenaline filled his chest when he gripped the microphone and stared off past the lights. Freddy's connection with his audience started that very moment and the sudden passion he felt was belted out through his song.
"Incredible! What a pair of lungs on that child! And you say he's only 13?"
"Yes, and apparently he was home schooled all his life and was privately taught music lessons. Raw talent at it's finest."
"I agree, but at such an awkward age. Surely his voice will change with puberty and this will all be gone."
"Of course, but now is not that time. We must get this child in. He'll be famous in his own name!"
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Freddy was living on the streets by the time he was 16. He went to a public high school but he never finished;he dropped out. His father had a vision of him taking over the family business, so determined that it was the only thing his son was destined to do, but Freddy wasn't having any of it. Never would he imagine himself in the same place as his dad, a grumpy old money grabbing bigot. The night he left home, Freddy spat in his father's face and stormed out against his mother's pleads and demands. Week prior they had fired his nursemaid. They knew for a while she was the one to spark their son's interest for music and tolerated it for years, but they began to believe that she was brainwashing him somehow because of his attitude change. Freddy didn't even get a chance to say goodbye, or to thank her, or to get any contact information from her. That hatred for what his parents did burned strongly in the pit of his stomach for the weeks to follow until Freddy's future began the topic of discussion one night and when Freddy truly realized what an insecure tyrant his father was deep inside.
The first couple of nights living on the streets were unbearable but it was more honorable than spending another day in that house. But Freddy managed. His weight fluctuated dramatically at first; he lost all his extra baby fat and was painfully thin, desperately rummaging for food in the back dumpsters of restaurants, and soon enough he guessed that he was nearly considered overweight. Whether it was from lack of certain nutrients or his depression that correlated with the gain, he wasn't sure. Sleeping was impossible when you're on a cobblestone street or an abandoned mattress you found on the side of the road. Freddy's face went through a physical change just like his body; his features harden and remained stone cold. He styled his hair the way the other kids did it, picked up habits like smoking, drinking and panhandling in order to cope and get by and became a frequent brothel costumer ever since he lost his virginity due to peer pressure. It was sure that this was the lowest Freddy had felt in years, but ever since he left home, a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders. No longer did he have to carry the family name and only be referred to as his father's only son. He didn't think it through though, because with no money or education or connections, Freddy wasn't sure what to do with his life. And it only went downhill from there.
He was able to stick with a crowd. A well known crowd, actually, who were known for their mugging and other crimes throughout the town. They were the ones who took Freddy in and showed him the proper ways on the street; some lessons he wouldn't have dreamed of doing as a proper young boy being instructed under Meredith's watch. He wasn't proud of it at first, but when he realized how accurately the phrase survival of the fittest matched this lifestyle, Freddy pushed back all conscience thoughts and only paid attention to his needs and what he wanted. Every Friday night he stood by a specific street corner with his "pals" and scrounged up a couple of cents and dollars from innocent bystanders and on Saturday nights he either faked being a dying child on the street who needed money or the guys would take him to their favorite brothel and he would wake up in the morning not remembering what happened. His health rapidly decreased, his so called friends betraying him multiple times and getting into fist fights with them only fueled Freddy's resentment towards the world. It was one night one of the other boys had him at the throat with a knife did Freddy realizes that he didn't care anymore. In fact, he urged the kid on, begging him to slice his throat and leave him for dead in the gutter because that's what he wanted. That kid eventually lost the thrill and left Freddy live, before giving him a final punch in the gut which left him curled in the fetal position, somewhere in the depths of a dark back alley. Freddy's heart ached that very moment. He wished that kid went through with wasn't until a few dragging minutes passed by that Freddy's head stopped spinning and was able to make sense of his surroundings. He didn't recognize this part of the neighborhood which left him feeling anxious, but it didn't make him stand up.
Until a melodic tune reached his ears, and he steadily lifted his body up from the ground.
He noticed a door opened. It was cracked an inch, a soft orange glow spilling out onto the pavement which enticed Freddy to inspect it while clutching his stomach with a little blood smeared on his face. He slipped his hand past the crack and open the door, feeling the sound proof padding attached to it and the rest of the walls that stretched out into a long hallway filled with vacant cafe tables and chairs that were stacked neatly and pushed to the sides. The source of the light and the music came from around the corner where Freddy carefully made his way to see where he was. He poked his head out and looked out upon an dimly lit room of an open mic cafe shop that was past its closing hours but still left behind a few stranglers. Past the empty chairs and tables on top of the mini stage sat a much older gentleman sitting at the piano who was graying but still looked dashing in a tuxedo and a woman, much younger than the man but certainly showing aging wrinkles and hair. Surrounding them was a makeshift orchestra consisting of a couple of trumpets, trombones, clarinets and a double bass. The men that held the instruments were playing softly, practically melting into their seats as they relaxed and let their hands and breathing do the work. The woman standing next to the older man on stage was the voice Freddy heard from down the hallway, and she was humming and improvising to a tune he use to hear when he was younger, when Meredith sang to him. The man moved his body along with the music, smiling contently as he played the piano while the woman sang. She was so mesmerizing, one of the best Freddy has ever heard. To let his stomach relax, he silently pulled up a chair in the back of the cafe in the dark area where the ceiling lights weren't hitting. He listened until the climatic end, where the woman's voice nearly shook the lights on the ceiling and broke the wine glasses. The men around her began to clap and applaud her, including Freddy.
Hearing the distant sound, all their attentions turned towards the teenager in the back in surprise. The woman instinctively went to the older man's side, putting her hands on his shoulders, a bit frightened. The man gently removed her hands and stood up, pointed a stubby finger to Freddy. "Who's back there? We're closed, son. You should go home."
Gulping, Freddy stood up, clutching his stomach and hastily wiping the liquid on his face. "Sorry," he croaked, "I-I was on the street and I got hurt...but I heard the mu-music and I...just wanted to listen 'cause...it sounded nice."
The old man narrowed his eyes at Freddy, trying to get a better look at him. "Come closer, boy. Lemme see your face."
Freddy took a few steps to walk underneath the hanging lights, his head slightly bowed so a shadow hung over his face. The others only observed his clothing though; dirty and torn leather jacket and stained jeans, plus he was holding onto his stomach as if he were in serious pain. "Sorry...again. I didn't mean to intrude." Freddy muttered. Being polite and calm was unusual for him at the point. He forgot what it was like to interact with adults.
"Oh my," the man mumbled and turned to the woman. "Frances, get this man a glass of water, please." The woman nodded and hurried off into the kitchen. "Here, take a seat, son." The man picked up one of the chairs from the tables and led the young boy to sit down. "What's got you all scrapped up, kid? What are you doing wondering the streets?"
Freddy leaned back in his chair, scratching his neck and looking down at his feet. He felts the eyes of the musicians on the back of his head, but he somehow felt more comfortable facing the strange old man. "I live on the streets. That's my home. I left my parents about 3 years ago and now the only way I can eat and stay warm are through mugging and shoplifting. Don't have anything else worth wild to say about me..."
A couple of murmurs behind him went unnoticed by the old man, as he took in all that information with a crease in his brow and a 'tsk' from his lips. "That's a shame. I understand where you comin' from. It ain't easy nowadays. I won't pry in your life anymore if you ain't willin' to. As long as you're alright, that's fine with me."
Freddy looked the man in the eyes and shifted awkwardly in his chair. "I haven't been alright in a while, sir."
The was silence in the room before the woman, Frances, came in with a glass of water for Freddy, which he chugged down in a few sips.
"So, what's your name, cutie?" The woman casually sat on the older man's lap with one arm wrapped around his neck and the other hand resting on his chest.
"Freddy."
"Last name?"
"I don't have one. I got rid of it."
"Ohhh." She slowly nodded, pondering at the idea.
"Say, Freddy," the old man spoke up, head raised in curiosity, "what caused you to come tumblin' in our lil cafe? We hardly have a visitors after hours when it's just us and the band."
The question struck Freddy by surprise, not entirely sure himself. He did remember the music being the reason why he bothered to get up off the cold ground...
"I guess..." he started, shrugging, "it was the music...I heard it from outside and it sorta drew me in. I use to play the piano and sing when I was younger, but I haven't done any of that in years."
The man frowned. "Oh? And why not?"
Freddy frowned even harder. "Because becoming a music performer isn't the way to make a proper living according to my father."
More silence, except for the 'aww' coming from Frances. Then the old man broke it.
"Ya know what? My father said the same thing. He said that if I didn't want to peruse a living in finance and banking, I should just leave his house and prove him wrong."
Freddy lifted his head and stared at the man. At that moment, the man lifted his arms and held them out wide, motioning to the building around them.
"And I did."
This made Freddy smile.
"I proved that bastard wrong. I build this place with my own two hands, hired trustworthy musicians and staff members and established the first Open Mic Cafe in this town, and eventually met the woman of my dreams." He squeezed the hand of the woman sitting on his lap, who gave him a tender peck on the cheek. "Would I trade all this so I didn't have to slave under my father for most of my adolescence. Absolutely not. Ya gotta work for your earnings. I believe everything happens for a reason, young man. Your life, the way it is now, is just a small obstacle on your way to achieve greatness. You're halfway there. You just need to find your heart's true calling and work for it, dammit. Work your heart out."
His speech earned him a few approving nods of the musicians around the room and another kiss from his wife. Freddy sat there stunned and staring down at the empty glass in his hands.
"Tell me, son. What is it that you always wanted to do?"
Thinking back, Freddy remembered the thrill he felt when he auditioned for his first talent show, when he played in front of Meredith, and when he preformed as the lead role in a play...
"I just," Freddy sighed, "want to sing to people. And make them happy. And entertain. I want to sing and entertain."
The old man nodded. "And I think you can...but then again." He trailed off, glancing back at the piano on stage. "I don't know what ya got in you, kid. Whaddya say? Wanna play us somethin'?"
The musicians chuckled and urged Freddy to go on up there, and so did Frances, so smiled widely at him. All the talking and encouraging made Freddy smile himself before he finally gave in and placed his glass down on the table. "Alright, fine, but I might be a little rusty..."
The old man waved his hand dismissively and led Freddy on the stage with his wife holding his hand. "It doesn't matter for how long you stopped. I'm sure you still got talent in you. Now let's hear it!"
now freddy's story doesn't exactly stop there...it kinds ties in with the stories of the other 3, who im most likely going to write about. if i do, bonnie would be next, then chica and then foxy...if ya'll are interested at least lmao. ask me any questions you have regarding freddy's story or if you want some oneshots or drabbles related to some aspects~
