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little wip of ruin :)

(I've started adding things into queue. This way it'll be easier for me to post consistently if im not motivated to draw one day. yay!)

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im back again with my first post.

have an eclipse.

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Happy pride to TREASUREBOX!

✨🏳️‍🌈🫵Unbury YOUR gays this month with PRIDE!!!🫵🏳️‍🌈✨

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More Older Brother Eclipse art😛😛

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ECLIPSE

THE SELF IS NOT SO WEIGHTLESS

NOR WHOLE AND UNBROKEN

flat color ver. below ↓

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is this anything

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Y'all heard about the "killed my husband" robe.

NOW GET READY FOR

"I'LL KILL FOR MY HUSBAND" ROBE

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I SWEAR BAVIS, DONT GET THE MIMIC INVOLVED.

Me the whole time drawing with Monty's face:

Ah

Iykyk

And then halfway through planing, I kept thinking of "Ruler of my heart".

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Night at the Campfire

The night air was brisk, filled with the crackling warmth of the fire and the scent of roasted marshmallows. Laughter floated lazily among the trees, drifting upward with the smoke. Fireflies blinked like tiny stars in the dark, and somewhere off in the woods, a cricket choir chirped their gentle accompaniment to the joyful hum of the group.

They’d gathered here for something simple—a safe night out under the stars, where no monsters lurked in the shadows, no hidden cameras watched from the walls. Just old friends, stories, snacks, and the quiet comfort of each other’s company.

Foxy leaned back on a log, his ears perked and tail twitching as he chuckled at something Monty said, a joke about Eclipse’s inability to cook anything that didn’t turn into charcoal. Even Eclipse himself laughed, arms folded as he shook his head, feigning offense.

FC was curled up in a blanket with a stick full of marshmallows, eyes wide in anticipation of s'more construction. Puppet stood nearby—though "stood" wasn't quite the right word. She hovered. Ten feet away from the fire. Still. Rigid.

Foxy noticed.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. She wasn’t much for gatherings anyway, usually preferring to stay off to the side with a knowing smirk or the occasional biting comment. But tonight felt different. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself. She wasn’t watching the group—she was watching the fire.

Not with curiosity. With fear.

He blinked and turned back toward the flame. It was calm, contained. The ring of stones they'd placed around it did their job well. A few sparks danced upward every now and then, nothing dangerous. But when he turned his eyes back to Puppet, she hadn’t moved. Her face, pale and masked, somehow looked more fragile than usual. There was something in her eyes—something hollow. Far away.

Foxy quietly stood, brushing off the ashes clinging to his pants. Nobody else noticed as he walked away from the light. Only Puppet’s gaze flicked toward him—briefly—then returned to the flames.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t ask her to come closer or tease her for being distant.

Instead, he stopped beside her—ten feet from the fire—and simply stood there. For a moment, they both watched in silence. The laughter of the group faded into background noise. He could hear her breath, shaky and shallow, and the soft sound of her fingers digging into her own sleeves.

Foxy gently held out his hand.

Puppet didn't look at it at first. She didn’t even seem to realize he was offering it. But slowly, her eyes traced the motion. Hesitantly. Warily.

Her fingers were trembling when they reached for his.

And when their hands touched, something shifted.

He didn’t squeeze. He didn’t pull. He just held her hand with a softness only he had ever shown her—like she was something valuable, but not fragile. Not broken. Just… here.

Puppet closed her eyes. Her breath hitched. And for the first time that night, she took a step forward. Not toward the fire—but toward now. Toward him.

She didn’t speak either, but he could feel her pulse in her palm. Unsteady. Tense. He moved his thumb in a gentle circle, grounding her with the rhythm.

“I’m alright,” she whispered. Maybe to him. Maybe to herself.

Foxy glanced at her. “You don’t have to be.”

The wind shifted. Somewhere behind them, Ballora was telling a dramatic ghost story, her voice rising and falling in theatrical waves. Laughter bubbled from FC, and Monty made an exaggerated scream. The warmth of the group didn’t quite reach them—but the sound did. Puppet heard it. And slowly, so slowly, her shoulders started to relax.

“You’ve never liked fire, have ya?” Foxy said quietly, still not looking at her.

She didn’t answer at first.

“No,” Puppet finally replied, voice low. “Not since…” Her words faltered. “Not since before.”

He knew what she meant. Before was heavy. It carried weight neither of them wanted to unpack in front of anyone else.

He nodded. “Makes sense.”

Another silence. But this one was easier. Softer.

“I wanted to be part of it,” she said. “To laugh. Roast marshmallows. Tell stories. But I just… I can’t.”

Foxy finally turned to look at her. “You are part of it,” he said gently. “Even back here. Even if you never step closer.”

Puppet stared at him. Her painted-on mask didn't move, but something behind her eyes flickered. Something he hadn’t seen since their last quiet moment together on the apartment couch—when the world wasn’t watching, and she finally let herself lean on him for a little while.

“I thought I was over it,” she admitted, a trace of shame in her voice. “I thought if I just kept walking forward, eventually I’d outrun it.”

Foxy's voice was low. “Sometimes you don’t have to outrun it. Sometimes you just… stop. Let someone hold your hand. And you stay right where you are, ‘til it doesn’t feel so big anymore.”

Her hand tightened around his.

“I hate feeling like this,” she said.

“I know.”

“I hate being scared of something so small.”

He looked toward the fire again. “It ain’t small to you. That’s what matters.”

The fire cracked in the distance, sending up a small puff of sparks. Puppet flinched—but she didn’t let go. Foxy felt the tremor in her hand and gently squeezed, just once.

“I’ve seen ya stand up to things that’d tear the rest of us apart,” he said. “You don’t have to prove anything.”

She closed her eyes again, letting his words sink in.

“I miss who I was before all of it,” she whispered. “Back when I wasn’t afraid of things like this. When fire was just warmth. Not a memory.”

Foxy took a deep breath. “I don’t think you lost her,” he said. “I think she’s still in there. You’re just learning how to let her come out again. Little by little.”

Puppet let out a sound that might’ve been a laugh. Or a sob.

They stood like that a long time. The others were singing now—FC leading some ridiculous campfire song with Eclipse doing backup vocals in a deep, overly dramatic tone.

Eventually, Puppet leaned her shoulder against Foxy’s arm. Barely touching. But it was something.

“Will you stay here with me a while longer?” she asked softly.

Foxy nodded, settling down in the grass beside her, hand never letting go.

“For as long as you need, love.”

And under the stars, ten feet from the fire, surrounded by the sounds of safety and home, Puppet let herself breathe. Not fully. Not deeply. But enough.

And that was more than she’d done in years.

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Smooth brain Creator

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Made this a Lil bit ago but take the heartache, seems fittin

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I love listening to random songs and immediately thinking about specific characters

New song for the Acolyte playlist >:)

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It's also Eclipse's birthday todau guys

My pookie is so old

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Ruin fans. Nexus fans. Pspspsp.

Can we all agree both of their circumstances sucked? Like. So bad. Losing someone is terrible, neither of them ever deserved to go through that.

Neither of them handled (well in Ruin’s case, are handling) loss perfectly. Neither of them were ever perfect victims. But man. Either way you look at it, it’s sad it turned out like this. Right?

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D

Do you think the reason Solar’s Moon never warmed up to him and continued to hate him was because Solar was the embodiment of the code he tried to leave behind to be better for Sun and then ended up being a good person despite being spawned from the killcode, forming a bond with Sun and caring for Sun, which proved that it was never the code itself that was the problem and it was just that Moon refused to change? Do you?

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*shakes these two because they make me sad*

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Ignore how it's the last day of mermay but HERE HE IS

STITCHWRAITH MANTA/STINGRAY + BLANKET OCTOPUS (Stitchray???)

Stitchwraith is such an underrated FNaF character and deserves some love

Sorry to anyone wanting Moonray lsksjfksl

Couple of alts under the cut (2nd set of "wings" removed + lines)