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Anxiously, you walked the hallways, filled with dread about how the Glamrocks would react to your grades. Chica was likely to be supportive, always the second nicest among them. On the other hand, Roxy would probably throw her usual insults your way, while Monty might take a more aggressive approach, hunting you down in frustration. Freddy, however, would likely be understanding, providing the reassurance you hoped for.
As a college student pursuing an English major with a minor in creative writing, your dreams of becoming an author—or perhaps an editor—kept you motivated, even in the face of uncertainty about your performance.
You continued to pace back and forth in the dimly lit room, the soft thud of your shoes echoing against the cold floor. Your left hand anxiously raked through your hair, tugging at the strands in frustration, while your right hand clutched the report card tightly, crumpling the edges. It was an odd ritual for you, printing out your report card even though collegiate grading systems didn’t typically involve report cards at all. But after years of receiving them throughout school, it felt strangely comforting to hold that familiar paper in your hands, a relic of your past.
“Kid?” The deep, gravelly voice of Monty cut through your thoughts, jolting you to a halt. Damn it, Monty. You slowly turned around to face the large alligator animatronic, its mechanical eyes gleaming under the overhead lights. With a mix of annoyance and anxiety, your stomach twisted at the sight. The contrast between your bright, promising grades in most of your subjects and the abysmal numbers creeping into your math and science classes loomed large in your mind. It didn’t matter that you had excelled in your major-related courses; you still had to face the hard truth that math and science were weights dragging you down.
High school had been a battlefield where these subjects had continually crushed your spirit, and the scars still lingered. The stress threatened to overflow, and you could feel the weight in your chest rising as memories of your earlier struggles began to loop, making it harder to breathe. Just as the first tears began to prick at your eyes, a hand suddenly landed on your shoulder. Startled, you jumped, the report card slipping from your grip as you instinctively fell to the floor. The crinkled paper fluttered away, but you clutched at the remaining edges tightly, falling back until you were pressed against the wall. Your body began to tremble uncontrollably, shaking as the sobs broke free, hot tears streaming down your cheeks.
In that vulnerable state, you felt someone lift you off the ground, and panic shot through you. You thrashed against the metallic grip, the cool touch of the animatronic’s limbs brushing against your skin sending shivers down your spine.
“Monty, go back to your room. I’ll take care of our Superstar,” came the gentle, reassuring voice of Freddy. Relief washed over you as you recognized him, and with it, a glimmer of safety amidst the chaos that swirled in your mind.
You calmed down a little as Freddy cradled you in his arms, just like he did for the many kids who came to see him. It made sense; as the main animatronic and the face of the company, he was designed to be strong enough to hold a lot of weight for those children.
You heard the door to Freddy’s green room open and close, and then you felt his hand gently support your back, his nails grazing your skin like a comforting anchor. Your mind and heart raced against each other, while disappointment and guilt weighed heavily on your lungs and chest.
“Shh, it’s alright. I’m not going to be upset. Let me see the paper, and I’ll gladly help you, along with Chica,” Freddy said, his voice box crackling with static. You blew your nose, which was extremely runny, into a tissue that Freddy had given you.
With shaky hands, you let go of the paper, it being slightly ripped due to your death grip on it earlier, and Freddy grabbed it. Ever so gently, he set you down on the couch he reserved for parents, children, staff, and you. Did you have somewhat special privileges since you basically lived at the Mega Pizzaplex? Yes.
Freddy looked over the paper, making small noises while you tried to not start crying again. Gods, why couldn't you be smarter?!
You didn't realize you had started hitting your legs until Freddy placed his hands on yours and held both of them in one, cupping the other over them, effectively locking your hands in place.
“Superstar, come on. it's time for bed. you can stay here for the night or leave to your campus, I'll let you decide. Whatever you do, though, please just remember that I and the rest of the band, mainly Chica, are more than willing to help you.” Freddy's voice helped to calm you down.
He let go of your hands to which you stood up and hugged him. “I think I'll stay here for the night. thank you, Freddy.” You murmured, tiredness catching up to you like a wolf to prey.
Freddy picked you up and led you over to the Superstar Daycare where he and Moon helped set up your sleeping arrangements.
You fell asleep to Freddy's motors and fans whirring softly. “Goodnight, my Superstar. well done.” Freddy tucked you in before bidding goodnight to Moon and leaving for his recharge station.