#security breach being broken yet again

[notdysfunk]

This is a cursed image

Source from David Baron vid teehee

[violet-shadows]

Missing Piece (Part Eight)

Series Index | ACOTAR Masterlist

Summary: Cassian and Nesta are happily mated and in love, so why do they feel like something is missing? When a newcomer arrives in the City of Starlight, they learn that their bond is not yet complete. 

Pairing: Cassian x Nesta x Reader (She/Her) (Poly Relationship)

Word Count: 2.8k ⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

The first thing I noticed when we reached my apartment was the tidied lower level. Someone, presumably Cassian, had hauled away the trash and broken furniture that had previously littered the walkway, and it did wonders for the building’s curb appeal. Upstairs, I realized that my front door had not just been fixed, but replaced entirely by a sturdy mahogany frame. It looked somewhat out of place compared to the rest of the exterior, but I had to admit it seemed far more secure. And expensive.

Before I could contemplate the door further, it swung open to reveal a beaming Cassian. My heart fluttered at the sight of him, still dressed in his fitted leather breaches, he had shed his jacket in favor of a shot sleeve. I couldn’t help but stare at his arms, tan, tattooed, and corded with muscles, nor could I tear my eyes away from his chiseled pectorals peaking out from the low collar of his shirt. “Like what you see?” he asked, startling me out of my stupor. I blushed crimson, ducking my head as I walked past him and into the apartment. I was so distracted by the sudden wave of… admiration… that I didn’t notice the changes to the interior until all three of us were inside. My jaw dropped and for a brief moment, I thought perhaps we had entered one of my neighbor’s homes by mistake.

The bare wooden floors had been covered with a colorful rug, and atop it sat a brand new bedframe constructed of finely carved walnut with a matching chest of drawers. The bedding was new as well, a series of down blankets and woolen quilts that I would do well to insulate against the nighttime chill. The window to the far left had been shorn up with new framework that matched the front door. The kitchen was much the same, though I spotted new hinges on the previously broken cabinet door. I turned in circles, marveling at the change, then wheeled around to look at Cassian and Nesta, who were still standing by the door in front of another new addition, a small walnut dining table that matched the bed and chest. They looked rather pleased, if not a bit nervous, with Nesta wringing her hands in front of her and Cassian’s wings twitching ever so slightly.

I glanced behind them, a flash of color catching my eye, and realized the table was set with blue and green dishes, the very same I’d admired just hours prior. I gaped at them, utterly stunned. “What— where did all this come from?” I sputtered.

“We wanted to make your place a bit more comfortable, so we took the liberty…” Nesta said, sounding uncharacteristically shy.

“Do you like it?” Cassian asked, sounding so genuine my heart squeezed. I tried to imagine how he’d gotten so much done over a few hours, then how much money they would have spent to furnish the place, and I swallowed thickly. What would have taken me years to purchase on my own had been ordered within hours for the pair, and I suddenly felt small in comparison. Here were two of Prythian’s greatest Fae, shelling out coin for a lowly healer to whom they had no choice in being bonded. It felt… incongruent.

“It’s magnificent,” I whispered, wheeling around again to examine the details of the space. “It’s… too much.” I winced when Nesta’s face fell, her eyes going to the floor. “How can I ever… I can’t repay you.”

“You don’t need to,” Cassian said, taking a few steps towards me. His arm was outstretched slightly as if he wanted to reach for me. “We wanted to do this… for our mate.”

“I—,” I began to speak, opening and closing my mouth several times before I could find the words. “Thank you,” I finally sputtered. “That was incredibly… generous.”

“You’re not happy,” Cassian surmised, his eyebrows pinching. My heart sank further, heavy guilt twisting in my gut.

“It’s just… I don’t want you to…” I was struggling, suddenly more inarticulate than I had ever been. “You’re not obligated. I want you to know that… you’re not obligated to… look after me.”

“You’re our mate,” Nesta said as if the statement were self-evident. There was something brewing in those bright silver eyes, but whether it was anger or sorrow, I could not tell. I flinched away regardless, looking back at Cassian. The male of our triad was far easier to read, with something like empathy in his soft hazel eyes. He also seemed nervous, though, shifting his weight ever so slightly from foot to foot.

“We… we liked you, Y/N. We want to get to know you and make sure you’re taken care of,” Cassian explained. I uncrossed my arms and blew out a breath, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spring to my eyes. It was overwhelming, the idea that someone would want to do all of this for me, let alone someone like them.

“I’m sorry. Thank you, really. It’s just a bit overwhelming. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” I said. Nesta seemed to relax somewhat, blowing out a breath of air, and I stepped towards her in instinct. “I’m just surprised. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” Nesta’s eyes locked with mine and she nodded almost imperceptibly. It was a silent affirmation, an understanding, and the tension left me. “How did you get all this done so quickly anyway?”

“I can work fast,” Cassian shrugged, that easy smile returning to his handsome face, “when I’m motivated.”

“Thank you,” I said again, closing the distance between us to wrap my arms around his middle. He returned the hug without hesitation and I let myself breathe in his scent. It was a comfort I had never known before, being in his arms, like coming home after a long journey.

“I like the scarf, by the way,” Cassian mumbled, pulling back to look at me again.

“It’s a shawl,” Nesta corrected, earning a chuckle from us both. “And it matches.” I lifted the edge, holding it up to Cassian’s outstretched hand, adorned with a glowing red jewel. The hue of the scarf was indeed a perfect match, the embroidery catching the light in a way that mimicked the siphon’s luminescence. Cassian grinned, almost looking prideful as he compared the two.

“Nesta got it for me,” I admitted, “she has a good eye. It’s perfect.”

“Indeed it is,” Nesta said, coming to stand at my side. “Absolutely perfect.”

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

Cassian touched down outside of the healing halls 20 minutes early, intent on not making Y/N wait to be walked home. Originally, he and Nesta were going to walk together, but the latter had excused herself last minute, blaming a headache for her absence. Cassian saw right through the lie, but he hadn’t called her on it, yet. Nesta had been especially quiet after returning from her outing with the Y/N, and despite Cassian’s efforts to draw more information out of her, she insisted everything had gone well. Still, he knew there was something bothering his mate, something significant, and the fact that it had to do with Y/N unsettled him.

He was deep in contemplation when Y/N approached, not seeing her until she was standing right in front of him. She smiled when she saw him and his breath caught. There was a softness about her when she smiled that made him weak in the knees like she was the embodiment of light and life itself. Cassian was used to being around people who concealed their thoughts and emotions well, and Y/N’s transparency was equal parts refreshing and endearing. “You didn’t have to come all the way here to walk me home, but I appreciate it,” she said.

“It’s my pleasure,” he replied. He noticed she had made a habit of assuring him and Nesta that they weren’t obliged to make an effort with her, and it made him worry. Deep down, in the part of Cassian that was and always would be a bastard-born nobody, he wondered if perhaps this was her way of saying she would prefer if they didn’t.

He shook off the thought, offering her his arm so they could stroll through the city together. Her outings with Nesta and him certainly drew questioning looks, but none were brave enough to whisper about it in the Lord of Bloodshed’s presence, much less ask questions. Cassian was quiet as they walked, trying to make sense of both of his mates. While Y/N and Nesta were different in many ways, they both had a tendency to confound the male. It wasn’t until they reached Y/N’s apartment that he realized he had been silent for the entire walk. “Would you like to come in?” Y/N asked, avoiding his eyes.

He forced a smile and agreed, following her up the steps. Once inside, he took the liberty of starting a fire for her while she unpacked her work bag. When he was satisfied, he turned to find her staring at him intently. “I thought Nesta was planning on joining us today…”

“She had something come up,” he said, “but she’ll be here next time, I’m sure.” Y/N nodded, her eyes downcast, and he noticed the way she wrapped her arms around her as if bracing an ache in her chest.

“Can I ask you something?” she muttered.

“Of course.”

“If Nesta upset with me?” she didn’t look up, hunching her shoulder slightly as she awaited his response as if bracing for a blow.

“No!” he rushed to reassure her, crossing the room to place a gentle arm on her elbow. “No, not at all.” He was all but certain Nesta’s unusual mood was not ire directed at Y/N. He had seen how smitten she had become with their mate in just a short time, he couldn’t imagine her changing her mind so quickly.

“Okay,” Y/N whispered, still refusing to look at him. “Are you?”

“Am I what, sweetheart?” Cassian asked, the term of endearment slipping out before he could second guess himself. There was a vulnerability about the way she spoke that had his instincts roaring, willing him to comfort her.

“Upset with me?” she asked, hugging herself tighter.

“No, not at all,” he reached out, cupping her cheek to guide her to look at him, willing sincerity into his words. “I’m not upset with you at all. Why did you think I might be?” He kicked himself now, for being so in his head on the walk home.

“I just… you were quiet and…”, she sighed, but did not pull away from his touch. “I thought maybe you were upset that I kissed Nesta.”

Cassian cocked his head, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “You kissed Nesta?”

He could hear Y/N’s heart rate speed up, anxiety leaking into her scent. “She didn’t tell you?”

“No…” Cassian’s mind spun. He couldn’t imagine why Nesta would keep such a secret from him, much less mope afterward. “What happened?”

Y/N’s face seemed to crumple, silver lining her eyes, and he gently guided her to take a seat at the dining table. “I kissed her and… she was quiet afterward. I’m afraid I may have overstepped.”

Cassian paused, struggling to find the right words when he knew so little of the story. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding,” he offered. Y/N shrugged, biting her lip.

“I would understand, y’know,” she whispered, “if you and Nesta wanted to keep things the way they were… I never meant to intrude on your—.” Y/N was cut off midsentence as Cassian’s hand shot out to grab hers. She looked at him, wide-eyed, and he leaned forward to speak.

“I can assure you, neither Nesta nor I feel that way,” he said earnestly. “We want you. I want you. Nesta wants you. I promise.” He wanted to tell her that there was nothing to worry about, that he and Nesta would go to the ends of the earth to make the relationship work, but he couldn’t make promises until he spoke to the female in question. Y/N nodded, swallowing thickly, and Cassian blew out a sigh. “I’m sorry about all this. I should go talk to Nesta,” he declared, moving to stand. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Y/N stood as well, looking less shaken than moments before, and nodded. “Thank you for walking me home.”

Cassian took a risk then and pulled her into his arms for a hug. She leaned in, wrapping her arms around his torso with no hesitation, and he tried to commit the moment to memory. After a quiet minute, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Cass,” she replied.

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

Unbeknownst to Cassian, Nesta had slept little the night after she and Y/N kissed. She was torn between utter bliss and turmoil, waffling between the two as she replayed the day’s events in her mind. The moment she pulled away, staring at Y/N in the early evening light, her eyes glittering with joy, Nesta felt an all too familiar, sinking feeling. Y/N had seen the best in her, insisting she was more than her past mistakes, and when she kissed her, Nesta felt like a filthy liar. She didn’t know the extent of Nesta’s darkness, didn’t know the cruelty that could surge forth under the right circumstances. She had been fooled, Nesta thought, and now, it was only a matter of time before she saw the truth and was disappointed by what she found.

When she watched Y/N hug Cassian the evening prior, she had never been more conflicted. They looked good together, two embodiments of light swirling around one another, nearly blinding Nesta in their glow. They were good for each other, perfect even, and suddenly, Nesta felt like the weight on the scale throwing everything off balance. The next day, she faked a headache, unable to face Y/N again when she felt like a snake in the grass, waiting to poison yet another beautiful thing.

She knew Cassian could tell something was off, but she kept her thoughts a secret, spiraling quietly until he left to walk Y/N home. She didn’t know what to say to him, or what to do, because she was far too in love, too hopelessly intertwined to push either of them away, and to date, that was Nesta’s only defense mechanism. Cassian returned to the House of Wind two hours later, and when Nesta kissed him in greeting, she could smell Y/N's scent clinging to his shirt. It was a perfect medley of the two and Nesta could have purred, the scent so divine she forgot her woes for a second.

“Why didn’t you tell me you kissed Y/N?” Cassian asked. Nesta pulled back, her heart sinking, and despite knowing Cassian wouldn’t mind her kissing their mate, she felt like a child caught sneaking a cookie.

“I… don’t know,” she muttered, unable to conjure a better excuse.

“Nesta…” Cassian said, his tone almost pleading, “please tell me what’s bothering you.” 'Don’t push me away again', he pled across the bond, reeling her in with the link between their souls.

“She thinks I’m good,” Nesta whispered, swallowing thickly. “She thinks I’m good and I feel like I’ve fooled her. She doesn’t know what she’s getting into… not as you do.”

“We’ve been over this, love,” Cassian stepped forward again, cupping her face in one rough hand. Her mates’ faint, combined scents were like a salve for her soul. ‘Selfish’, she thought, ‘always so selfish’. “You are good. You are worthy. I see it. Y/N does…”

“She hasn’t seen the rest, though,” Nesta argued, stepping away to stare into the fireplace. She had always identified with fire, beautiful but burning, capable of warmth, but ultimately destructive. She was enticing, but in the end, she always left scars. She didn’t want to do that again, not to someone like Y/N. Not to another mate.

“You’re not doing this again,” Cassian’s voice was steady, his words like ice. Nesta didn’t turn, but her back straightened.

“Doing what?” she asked, knowing the answer.

“Pulling away from someone you care about because you’re scared… because you think you’re not good enough,” Cassian replied. He moved to step behind her, a gentle hand on her low back.

“I’m not—”, Nesta felt a tear slip free, trailing down her cheek and evaporating under the heat of the fire.

“You are,” Cassian said. He was so sure, so decisive in the way he said it that she almost believed him. She wanted to believe him. “You are, and Y/N is not stupid. Or a coward. She will see all of you, just the way that I do.” Nesta turned around, glassy eyes meeting Cassian’s. “And when she does, I promise you, she will love you just as I do.”

“I hope you’re right…” she leaned forward, resting her head against his chest and drawing a shaking breath. “I hope you’re right because it’s too late.”

“Too late?” Cassian asked.

“For me to stop loving her.”

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

a floor plan of Y/N’s apartment I made for absolutely no good reason:

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

Likes, reblogs, comments, and feedback are greatly appreciated. Click here to check out my other work.

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[whumpflash]

Penumbra: Unbelief

cw: torture, interrogation, broken bones, hand whump, psychic whump

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

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The Shadow King was strung up like a puppet when Nisha came to fetch him; a body hanging limp, suspended by chains. Even as seasoned a warrior as Nisha was, the sight of the gauntlets—the thought of his mangled hands being crammed back into them—turned their stomach. They'd be having a word with the guards about that. 

Cerus was unconscious, and remained so as he was transported to the chamber where the interrogation would take place. Somewhere a little warmer, a little cleaner, for the visiting priests. 

He was sat in a heavy iron chair, wrists and legs secured with embedded manacles. Once properly restrained, one of the holy mages woke him with a spell, and the silence of the room was broken with a gasp and an utterly pathetic whimper.

"Cerus Hollowthorn," the elder priest began. "You stand accused of forbidden magic. It is impossible for you to deny your use of necromancy, but the alleged blood rituals have yet to see evidence. What say you?"

The Shadow King took his time responding, perhaps catching his breath. Perhaps dragging out a scant moment of peace as long as he could.

"I see even a war at their doorstep does not stop the people from gossiping," he said at last, in a voice that sounded like it had been torn to shreds, then haphazardly sewn back together. Nisha frowned.

"Answer the question, Cerus," they said coldly.

"I have," he growled in response.

Without a glance at either priest, Nisha planted a sharp kick in Cerus's left shin, right above where they'd brought the cudgel down not four nights prior. The resulting scream felt like a reward, and the look they received from the holy mages was not one of disapproval.

The elder cleared her throat, trying again. "What blood rituals have you completed, Shadow King? This is your final chance to give us an easy answer. You surely know how mind magic can break a man."

Cerus's head hung as he panted for breath. A tremor had enveloped his body. "Y-you won't believe me. Whatever answer I give."

He cried out as Nisha backhanded him, but this time the elder held up her hand.

"Enough. He's made his choice."

Nisha nodded, taking a step back so that the priests could make their preparations. The younger of the two drew incense from a deep cloak pocket, lighting it with a whispered word. As the rich-smelling smoke clouded the air, the elder began to chant, and Nisha watched as her eyes took on a white glow.

On the iron chair, Cerus gave a jolt, as if he'd been dealt a blow. 

Even rendered unable to cast by his broken fingers and the runes engraved on the chair, Cerus's psyche seemed intact. The elder priest was visibly struggling to breach his mind, the light emanating from her eyes flickering with the effort.

Nisha elected to help her.

Nothing dramatic. They simply took hold of Cerus's right hand and began to squeeze. Bones shifted and clicked in their grip, and Cerus screamed. They kept going. Tighter and tighter, until Nisha's own hand hurt from the pressure, and the noises pouring from Cerus's throat no longer sounded human.

Beside him, the glow of the elder's eyes had redoubled in strength, though a disturbed expression had settled on her face. Cerus collapsed as soon as Nisha let go, sinking as far forward as the manacles allowed. He'd broken out in a sweat, pale skin gleaming in the cool light of the chamber, the muscles in his shoulders spasming.

The general took a step back, thinking their work done, but it seemed the man in the chair didn't know when to call it quits. The elder priest gave a small cry, stumbling, and when Nisha glanced back at Cerus, they saw that though he trembled, every muscle was taut, and his face was locked in a concentrated grimace.

Damn the fool.

They seized his hand once more, the same one as before. Cerus let out a strangled cry the moment their skin brushed his, the sound shaping itself into an agonized howl as Nisha applied pressure. This time, they didn't let go.

"Suh–stop! Oh gods, o-oh g—stop!"

They didn't, squeezing ever tighter until Cerus's pleas were unintelligible. The desperation in his voice built, until even the elder priest's trance broke and she looked at the Shadow King in pity.

"General…" she warned, and Nisha let go, turning their back on a now-sobbing Cerus.

"This is the only way to forge a path through his mind," Nisha said. "Broken though his body is, his will is strong."

She pursued her lips, concern still plain on her face, but nodded. They all had a job to do. The people of Feyadel were their concern, not the well-being of a fallen tyrant.

As the glow began to seep back into her eyes, Nisha reached for the Shadow King's quivering hand.

"N-no," Cerus whimpered. "Please, I'm done. I-I won't…"

Nisha clicked their tongue, running a single finger across the back of Cerus's hand. Even that feather-light touch drew a yelp.

"Nnh-! Oh gods, please, I won't, I'll comply—"

"That may be," Nisha cut in. "But what was it you said?"

They closed their hand around his, feeling the bones grinding beneath the skin. His resulting scream drowned out Nisha's low-spoken words.

"Whatever answer you give, I won't believe you."

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@whumpwillow @rabbitdrabbles @kixngiggles @honeycollectswhump @chiswhumpcorner @whatwhumpcomments , @dont-look-me-in-the-eye , @turn-the-tables-on-them , @pigeonwhumps , @itsmyworld23 , @andromeda-liske , @starlit-hopes-and-dreams

[i-like-media]

Security Breach Ruin Trailer Analysis & Theory

Alright I have a lot to say about the new trailer. You can watch it here

I was never on board with the FNAF "Gregory is a robot" Theory... Until this very trailer when they revealed the girl's name is Cassie. Now, this Could just be a poetic parallel to previous characters and events, but given the current WACKY state of fnaf lore I just can't brush it off as that for my own peace of mind. Theory under the read more.

For those who don't know, Cassidy (also known as Cass and Cassie) was one of the murder victims and specifically, the ghost of Golden Freddy. She also is the vengeful character who stayed behind to torture Afton in Custom Night. She is also known as The One You Should Not Have Killed. (I also read online she possesses golden freddy together with crying child but let's put a pin in that 📍)

There is also another lesser known Cassidy character in FNAF. The princess from princess quest.

Which I think is Really interesting. Both have a yellow theme and BOTH are dead-set on destroying Afton (Golden Freddy fighting the Real Deal and the Princess fighting digital pixel art Aftons). But how does that relate to OUR Cassie? Well take a look at the SB Ruin poster.

It's Cassie standing in front of a Broken Down Golden Freddy Statue. It's beautiful symbolism that's been right in front of our eyes the entire time, and we never saw it! If THIS Cassie has any link to the previous ones, this is her confronting her past and future. She's going on her own princess quest... And given how we see Vanny's mask and Bonnie in the trailer, I don't think she's going to be JUST saving Gregory. She's going to confront Another facet of whatever is left of Afton.

📍Now another interesting thing about Golden Freddy possibly having been co-possessed by crying child, is Gregory's resemblance to the character.

Not exactly uncanny, but the similarities are enough to warrant theories! If these two characters were familiar with each other in a past iteration, it's QUITE the funny coincidence they're familiar with each other NOW.

Which leads to me, unfortunately, needing to humour the robot theory.

If these two are indeed the same characters from the past, they are... most likely... robots. I don't know WHO is making these robots, probably someone who's familiar with the past and Afton. And also someone who's daft enough to through these lengths to wipe the Spaghetti Stain that is Afton off the face of the earth. Because let's be honest, the cops wouldn't know what to do with a man who's both a computer virus AND zombie either 💀

I just cannot grasp another reason for these characters to exist AGAIN as children after being violently murdered in the 80's. And with how CRAZY the FNAF lore is and how important all introduced characters are, I doubt these children are anything but a coincidence/cheeky parallel. Their presence holds a weight in the narrative... whatever that narrative is at this point.

Unrelated, but I also suspect Gregory to be under Afton's influence in this DLC. He sounds a Lot like he's trying to lure her in deeper, on purpose. Saying stuff like "Save me", "I don't have time to explain how I got here but you've GOT to help me out" and "don't give up on me yet"... They just feel very odd things to say to a friend who you reached out to to rescue you. I don't trust it.

[yanderes-galore]

hello buddy ol pal how you been

now i've been getting a huge hyperfixation on withered bonnie, but i dont really know what to request soo.

maybe both your prompt 23 and 57? if you cannot then please do tell me

Hello friendo ☺️ Sorry for your request being so late.

Sure! I already texted you to ask for a plot so I will now get to work on doing it :) I apologize if it is too short, I did struggle on the plot despite what I was given. No dead kids as usual, it's more like Security Breach.

Yandere! Withered Bonnie Prompts 23 + 57

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away."

"You're stuck with me, like it or not."

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Violence, Self-Aware robot, Leans platonic but can be seen as both due to how I write the FNAF characters, Bonnies sort of oblivious due to errors in his coding, Forced companionship.

Loneliness corrodes his servos like rust. Bonnie's a bot built for entertainment. He's meant to sing and dance on a stage with his guitar. Was he just meant to be a large toy?

Was he just meant to be cast into a closet forever to rot after they stole from him?

All just to make a new toy? One blue with shiny new paint?

Bonnie itched for someone to entertain... he wanted to mean something to someone again!

Then he found you...

By accident, he found you, his partially blind optics scanning you eagerly. You would be perfect! You'd be the perfect person to satiate this festering desire deep in his code.

He knows his appearance is frightening... but he promises he's friendly! He hates that you stare at him with such fear.... Sure, he stepped out of his room when he wasn't supposed to...

But he promises he won't hurt his new friend...

So why do you hide in the office? Has he done something wrong? You trick his sensors into thinking there's no one there...

But he knows you are.

You're there and he's determined to exhaust you.

After all... you'll slip up at some point. His newer model had one thing going for it... it was just as persistent as him. Bonnie also had the help of every other bot here.

The moment he sees you do something wrong... a minor slip up due to that music box or flashlight malfunction... he pounces. For a rabbit, he's a hunter, and you're his prey.

When he suddenly slips in, faceless endo staring you down... you falter. The mask fails to come down fast enough. This slight error allows him to capture his prize.

A new friend to play with.

---

You wake up with a heavy feeling in your body. You thought your life flashed before your eyes. You messed up at your job... yet the cold jaws of death itself didn't claim you.

You sit up, flinching at the sore feeling deep in your core. The room you were in was dark yet you felt cold tile underneath you. You look down, faintly seeing dark stains on your outfit. Were you injured?

You squint your eyes in an attempt to look around the room. The room was cluttered but still a little spacious. It reminded you of one of the backrooms in the pizzeria...

Wait a moment.

You move yourself onto your knees. The movement makes your head throb for a moment and your skin sting. Maybe you were cut a little?

Why were you even here?

You make a careful attempt to stand up. Stumbling momentarily you manage to stay on your feet before looking around the room. Was it still night? Where in the building were you?

*Ka-chunk*

Your thoughts are paused when you hear a metallic noise. You think something fell over before red light fills the room. Your heart stops.

What... was that?

There's more mechanical noises behind you, causing you to turn quickly. Right in front of you stands a broken rabbit animatronic. You recognize it as the old Bonnie model in the Parts & Service room. Now it was on...

Now he was staring at you...

You stay still as though the rabbit is some sort of T-Rex. Red optics of a broken endoskeleton stare you down before the bot's head tilts sideways. Fear due to not knowing where you were and being cornered by something that no doubt attacked you builds and causes your eyes to water.

You reach for the doorknob...

The knob moves, but doesn't relent...

You let out a scared cry when the rabbit jumps forward in response.

Bonnie, on the other hand, finds your response strange. He's so used to people being happy around him.... Yet here you are... his newest friend... on the brink of sobbing in front of the door he locked.

He didn't intend to scare you... his joints are just so stiff.

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away."

The voice of Bonnie comes out with a whining static, one glitchy and harsh on the ears. You only find yourself sobbing more before pulling and pushing on the doorknob. Bonnie makes a troubled noise in his voicebox.

"Why do you cry, friend?"

He asks, seeing your fearful eyes stare up at him.

"I just want to complete my shift and go home...."

Home... you were planning to leave? That won't do... he doesn't want to be alone again. Keeping you in this room was the better option!

In here... it's just you and him.

You'll have so much fun here... he'll have a purpose... he'll have his own chance to be in the spotlight like those plastic toys with you.

Bonnie's servos twitch and glitch, his red optics flickering momentarily before he looks between you and the door.

"You'll miss all the fun...." The rabbit whines. "I can't let you go when I have someone of my very own to play with."

"I don't like the dark... I don't like it here...!" You panic, the bot barely sensing it with his busted scanners.

"You're stuck with me, like it or not."

The bot growls with static, a metal claw dragging you deeper into the room while you cry and scream. The rabbit doesn't seem to care. All that matters is dragging you into the darkness... with him.

"What game should we play, new friend?"

[leffee]

Foxy headcanons part 2 because I love him (will also include lots of him interacting with characters from other fnaf games)

he has his own place to sleep in Pirate Cove of course, but he often sleeps with others, either on the main stage or in the backstage area. Pirate Cove is not the biggest, and in order not to fall he has to curl up a bit, which can be uncomfortable sometimes. He has this one tattered blanket that he got from a kid long time ago and he cherishes it

him and Mangle are such friends (and just friends, I really dislike them as a ship). Mangle is quite taller than him when in fixed form that is, and it's the one I'm using, although not related, they have a lot of sibling energy, with Mangle being the older, caring sister

him and Rockstar Foxy have a different dynamic though. Rockstar Foxy is brighter, newer, more full of life, and way more of a pirate than Foxy is. Rockstar Foxy has such sympathy for him, because that is him yet looks so much broken down and sadder. So their friendship mostly consists of Rockstar Foxy trying his best to pump some life into him. And Foxy really appreciaties it, it's just weird seeing whom is essentialy him like that, louder, cheerier, more energetic and of course without any holes

him and Monty thooough, ugh, it's actually becoming one of my favourite duos, and it's absolutely my 2nd favourite ship. But anyway, Monty is just this really tall really brawny guy and his enthusiasm gets to Foxy a lot when he's around him, without even trying too hard. To Monty. Foxy is just this little guy whom he constantly picks up and practically throws around, though always catching him. Foxy really trusts him actually, he allows Monty to do anything he wants with him and the other 100% does just that. Foxy's napping and out of nowhere Monty will appear, pick him up under his arm and take somewhere to do some stuff (never watched Security Breach, no clue if that's anywhere near to Monty's canon personality, then again those are called headcanons for a reason)

his hook hand gets him in a lot of minor problems. Even after years of having it he sometimes forgets to consider it and, for example, reaches for objects with his hook without looking. He scrapes walls with it, makes holes with if the material is pliant enough, sometimes hurts himself by accident, but by far the worst is when his hook gets tangled in his tail, which did happen a few times before. He can never free it himself, plus he doesn't want to rip his tail fur, so he will, with one hand awkwardly stuck behind his back, go to one of the other animatronics and ask them for help

because of being the lightest of the animatronics (in restuarant from fnaf 1) he can, with some difficulty, jump quite high. How high? Well, he can jump on top of the arcades. You're free to play that game, he's just resting there, though his tail might accidentaly get in the way. In such case just push it aside, he won't mind

That's enough for now. Foxy with Monty is my beloved duo more and more, which wasn't ony my fnaf bingo card and yet it happened

[mythandlaur]

Code: July Day 12 - Hopeless

There's no way I'm getting all the ones I want to done in July at this point, so you'll probably see a few stragglers posted in the next couple weeks.

This one's based on the prologue of the fangame IFSCL, but since the whole story isn't out yet I've kind of taken my own spin on it. The premise should mostly explain itself, at least.

And no, I'm not doubling this up with day 30's prompt, because I want to actually show them being happy for that one.

...

13-04-2010

If you could live your life over again, what would you do differently?

It was one of those lofty questions you only got in philosophy questions or as essay prompts to judge your character. Jeremie had always hated that, the kind of question that has no right answer, a problem with no solution. It always leaves him flailing trying to figure out what he's supposed to say in response--he's much more comfortable with math and science, where things aren't necessarily simpler, but every consistent action has a specific result. Two plus two always equals four. Baking soda and vinegar always makes carbon dioxide.

Even in the quantum sciences where there was far more uncertainty, he still held the belief that it all fit into a paradigm people just hadn't figured out yet. Time moves in a straight line, unless it doesn't, according to some rule that hadn't yet been discovered.

Computers, most of all. If you delete something (really delete it, not just your grandma wiping the Recycle Bin), it should be irretrievable.

If you could do things over again. It was supposed to be a hypothetical. But all the laws he knows have already fallen to pieces--and behind it, he's forced to face that question in a terrifyingly real way.

It's hard for him to read the flickering blue display on the screen across the room with one of his glasses' lenses rendered a useless conflagration of spiderweb cracks. 30...20 seconds left, maybe? Jeremie could've force-executed the special RTTP immediately, of course, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to enter the last command. Did that make him a coward? It's not like an extra minute would make much of a difference.

Maybe he should've known this was coming the moment he'd looked into the news article, and the strange events that had immediately followed.

Dr. Hugh Tyron found dead in his home...asphyxiated...no signs of struggle...under posthumous investigation for cyberterrorism and possession of confidential documents and technology. The name had struck Jeremie as vaguely familiar, like he'd seen it in passing, and a bit of digging revealed a paper trail perfectly parallel to Waldo Schaeffer and the other members of Project Carthage he'd managed to identify.

Immediately after the article, those other members began dying one after another, in either a set of serial murders or horrific accidents usually involving power lines or out-of-control industrial equipment.

Mr. Delmas had, out of the blue, sent a friendly email to Jeremie asking about info security--apparently, the Kadic school records had been breached and he was concerned about student safety, but had no idea where to start in upgrading their outdated systems.

A fire had broken out at the old Renault factory, putting it back on the city's radar and resuming talks of demolition.

A prolonged blackout had struck the entire city of Valence, France, where Jeremie's parents lived and where he would've still been at the time if he hadn't left for college in America a couple of weeks early.

Twelve times, they'd tried again to destroy it. Twelve times, they'd succeeded, but got less and less of a reprieve, had less and less hope. It only figured that number thirteen was the unlucky one.

And now, here he is, running the last resort RTTP, one so extreme none of them would remember anything once all was said and done. He wouldn't be doing it if he was completely hopeless--he was sure there had to have been something they could've done to prevent this outcome, maybe when XANA was weaker. But it's not like he'll be able to do much to change things, just relying on their scattered half-memories to guide them down another path. It's a long shot, but maybe it'll work. He has to believe that.

Jeremie wishes he'd had time to leave something behind for his younger self, a message or a bit of advice or something, but there's no way something like that would survive a RTTP as big as this one anyway, so he's left simply speculating to pass the last few seconds. He's probably going to miss his own perspective the most--because XANA had been big, yes, but so many things had seemed equally as big and scary back then when they just weren't, things as simple as talking to his friends or having a crush or telling the truth--dear god, he's going to have to come out all over again isn't he--

Maybe...maybe he would tell himself to spend more time with them, not to just save it for a later he hadn't been sure was coming. Not to get so worked up over little things, because he only ever got so annoyed because he was scared. Tell them more, in general. Several incidents could've been avoided like that.

Like William. That's one of the things that was obvious in hindsight--he wasn't angry at William, only a tiny bit of it had ever been at William. It was a whole mess of mistakes on everyone's part, but it wasn't William's fault that Jeremie had spent an entire summer break sulking and come back full of spite.

Yeah, Jeremie thinks, that's definitely one thing he'd want to change. He'd devirtualize William instead of freezing up and yelling at him uselessly. Maybe they'd be a little closer at the end.

He sees the counter hit single digits. He considers telling Yumi, on the other side of the door to the busted cargo elevator behind him, but decides against it. The whine from the mainframe, this time loud enough to be clearly audible two floors up, should be enough of an indicator.

Aelita's stuck upstairs. He wishes he could call her. He hopes she understands. He hopes that she can hope alongside him, because she's always been like that, even on her worst days.

Really, if anyone's going to figure out what's going on and how to stop XANA this time, it's going to be her, out of sheer stubbornness if nothing else. He can't hope to match that.

The whine reaches a fever pitch, but the air doesn't grow thick like he's used to it doing. He can move perfectly fine, without time seeming to slow to a crawl while his brain runs too fast to keep up.

A white light springs from the center of the laboratory, and Jeremie shields his eyes--but not fast enough to miss a flicker in the air in front of him.

It...is him, he realizes as he peeks out from in between his fingers. Younger and dumber and looking like he's staring into an oncoming train, but definitely himself. The elder tries to scramble to his feet, tries to wave a greeting, think of something to say, I'm sorry, I forgive you--but before he can get a word out his world goes green, then white in a shower of painful sparks.

09-10-2003

Jeremie lurches backwards, the weight of his own backpack nearly sending him tumbling. He grips onto the side of the bridge to steady himself and takes a moment to catch the breath he'd suddenly lost.

What had that been just now, on the other side of the bridge, looking at him?

He rubs his eyes with the heel of a hand, glancing over to where he'd seen it, but...the stranger who'd been standing there is nowhere to be seen.

"What was that?...I really need to get some sleep."

For a moment, he looks over his shoulder, considering going back and telling Maya. But--that's dumb, what's he even supposed to say to her, that he'd had a weird dream? He hadn't even explained those to her properly yet. Besides, once he got the remote connection set up, he would be able to talk to her whenever he wanted--and as of right now, he'd be in enough trouble if he got caught outside of the dorms.

He ignores the chill down his spine, or the sudden weight on his shoulders, as he hops down the ladder to the waterways where he'd parked his scooter.

(A boy sits bolt upright, whipping his head around towards the other bed in his room with a long-since-dulled venom on his tongue for being woken up--but then he remembers that he's never had a roommate.)

(A girl presses her ear to her doorway, but she doesn't hear her parents arguing. So why can't she sleep? She checks her phone out of habit, but that's stupid. No one ever calls her. And--she likes it that way, doesn't she?)

(A boy--or at least they think they must be a boy, at the time--scrambles about trying to keep a small, hyperactive dog from destroying a hotel room so he can get a few seconds of peace to call his family and let him know he'd gotten there safe, despite already knowing the call's going to go to voicemail. He really hopes whoever he's rooming with will be cool about dogs.)

(An older boy's in the middle of writing his twenty-sixth love letter that night when his stomach suddenly drops out from under him and his eyes sting with frustrated tears. He sits back in his chair, stares out the window, and decides he's done enough work on his little project for one night.)

(A virtual girl lies on her back and stares up towards the vanishing point of the datastream far above, suddenly convinced that there must be an infinite amount of life to live beyond it, despite having no evidence. She does not know that world. She has never known it. So how can she miss it with such ferocity?)

(And a blond with broken glasses opens his eyes to find white as far as he can see, except for a line at the horizon where a rainbow sits like a smeary soap bubble, as if the light itself has slowed enough to split into its constituent colors--or, perhaps, he was moving too fast. He slumps down against a door that isn't there anymore, realizing abruptly that he is both Schrodinger and the cat, in one place and time and another, existing and not existing.

He settles in for a millisecond that will last an eternity. But perhaps, if he goes unobserved, he can be in that other place, just for a moment.

And if that's right, he vows to do whatever he can to fix the odds, this time.)

[henrys-wee-hen]

No-One Fucks With The Lobos - Chapter 9

Go feral, folks! <3

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48070186/chapters/121960735

Or read under the cut! Enjoy!

Teddy

“Because some complete cunt broke my shoulder and left me to the dogs.” Those words echoed around and around in his mind, like the worst kind of broken record. Left me to the dogs. As though he’d known they’d come in and mess (Y/N) up. As though he’d planned for it. As though he’d wanted someone other than himself to come in and hurt his beautiful little object. He was a criminal, not a fucking monster. Although perhaps some argument could be made for the things he did to people... but if he loved something, someone, he didn’t ever let it or them get hurt.

(Y/N) was no exception.

He’d wanted to get that little officer down on bended knees, eventually. Because he knew there was no other way someone with such a strong moral compass pointed permanently due north would ever kneel by themselves, without a little push. But those words... it implied he’d had a choice in it. And he hadn’t.

Learning that his sacred little inner circle had been breached had put him into special measures. No way was anyone else getting close to his apartment without him knowing, so he’d increased his security system and had a two-factor authentication installed on top of it. A key, but also a code. And when he wasn’t there, a code would be sent to his phone, that he would need to approve before the door could open. No approval for him meant the entire building got locked down. Outside of that, the only way in was to scale the building from the outside, and try to blast through three-inch-thick bombproof glass. No-one was every going to break his sanctuary again. As for his men, they’d each been handed over to his mother for an unhinged kind of interrogation, and he wasn’t entirely sure which of them would be left alive.

That left him time to deal with (Y/N). He didn’t know what he wanted to do. He was hurting, so (Y/N) needed to hurt worse. He needed to make something clear, but he didn’t know what, or why, or how. That is why Teddy strapped (Y/N) to a chair and refused resolutely to make eye-contact as he started a torture unlike anything he could have planned while rational. The cries, the begging for him to stop, the tears that poured down bloodied, bruised cheeks... none of it was enough to make him see that he was approaching a limit he usually stopped well short of. Not wanting to kill (Y/N)… but just cause enough pain that behaviour patterns shifted. That behaviours were relearned. Yet this time, all the pain those words had caused... after everything he’d done, revealing parts of himself that he’d only ever let his father see... Teddy couldn’t see the limit he was approaching at runaway speed.

He slashed and bit and punched his way past those limits. He saw red after red, the mist consuming him as he hurt himself just as much as he did (Y/N). He never cried. The last time he’d cried like that, he’d been alone in his room, locked away in the darkness, just after his father’s funeral. And there, he’d blamed himself for not being able to pick up his own gun fast enough to take out the bastard cop who’d fired those shots. This... with (Y/N)… it was no different. He hadn’t been able, been fast enough, to prevent the damage done. And just like his mother had done with his father’s death, (Y/N) had thrown it back in his face, too.

It was only when a blade slipped and sliced into the top of his forearm that the mist finally cleared, his feet sliding on the floor slick with blood. He hit the ground, the knife clattering to the ground. The room was silent. (Y/N) was lying there motionless, covered in cuts and bruises, clothes slashed to bloodsoaked ribbons. Teddy leaned against the wall and succumbed to the last of the sobs, hiccupping lightly. He looked at (Y/N), lying motionless, bleeding out into the drain in the middle of the floor.

“Fuck,” he breathed, after a moment. He wiped his face and nose on the back of his bloody arm, sniffing. “Fuck...” Teddy hadn’t wanted to cross that boundary. Shooting someone in the head was one thing... but red-misting and using his own physical force...? That was more intimate. More personal. A fresh round of sobs took him, and he cried openly. No-one was going to know about this, so why try to hide it? He felt like he’d been punched repeatedly in the gut.

No more (Y/N). What did that mean? He thought back to all the times he’d been actively doing a crime, enjoying life immensely, only for the day to get so much better when those blues and twos sounded. If one of his guys got a call, he’d know it was Quincy and partner, which was fun enough. But no call, and those sexy little sirens? That meant (Y/N) and Chandler. That meant those gorgeous (Y/E/C) eyes blazing at him. That meant those beautiful lips spitting wicked little insults at him... No more of that.

And he’d ruined any chance of (Y/N) being his. No chance now that he’d get to see his little officer taking the knee for him... No hopes of showing his prize off at parties, or gala dinners, or in the passenger seat of his car... Teddy felt like his stomach had gone entirely.

Eventually, when he’d cried himself out and he felt stable enough to move, Teddy crawled over to (Y/N). Unconscious. That beautiful, peaceful face beaten almost unrecognisable. His work. His awful, horrible work. Teddy ran his hand over an unmoving chest. He felt a pulse along a blod-slicked throat. Weak, barely there, but something.

“Fuck!” he gasped. “(Y/N) - still alive -” he scrambled about for his phone, his fingers slipping in the blood which coated his hands. “Siri, call Dr Johnson!”

His phone responded, dialling the number.

The longest hours of Teddy’s life. The private ambulance had shown up in record time, pulling (Y/N)’s body out of the room carefully. Teddy watched as the private team of paramedics, usually reserved for Teddy’s men when they were in a bad way, set up the life-support and murmured to each other about ‘critical condition’ and ‘might not make it’. It was all Teddy could do then to stop himself from throwing up, but he had to stay strong.

“Can I ride along?” he asked quietly, as the paramedics loaded (Y/N) into the back of the ambulance.

“You don’t want to clean up a bit first, Mr Lobo?” one medic asked. Teddy shook his head.

“No, I fucking don’t,” he growled. The paramedic gave him a look and stepped aside, letting him into the ambulance next to (Y/N). The blood on his skin and clothes was almost completely dry at that point. But Teddy didn’t care. All he could think of was what he would do knowing he’d gone too far again.

But once they arrived at the hospital, where the Lobos had a pretty hefty bit of influence over the medical team for both priority and privacy, Teddy was pushed to the side and effectively forgotten about, while the doctors took control and tried to save (Y/N)’s life. Teddy waited and waited, hours passing with him sitting in the same chair, doctors and nurses passing him by as he stared into space, little flakes of blood falling from him every now and again. A few of his men came to see him, having received word from the nurses there that “Mr Lobo looks like he’s been through something deep, and he isn’t talking”.

It was only when Bellafrancesca walked through the door that Teddy acknowledged his surroundings and snapped out it.

“Teddy. My darling boy,” Bellafrancesca said softly, taking a seat beside him. Her powder-pink suit was pristine, but she still took her son’s hand. “What is this?” Teddy looked at her, his eyes fraught with anger, sorrow, fear... what would she say to him this time? Would she blame him again? He was already blaming himself enough. He didn’t need her to add to it.

“I went too far,” he said softly. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with, mom.”

“My son is sitting here like he was in a bomb attack. I think it is my concern. Who did this to you, Teddy?”

“I did this to me.” Teddy’s tone was sharp. Bellafrancesca looked at him, a little taken-aback. She pressed her lips into a line, then sighed.

“I thought you might have come to me after you killed the Mason brothers, Teddy.” Bellafrancesca let go of his hand. “But you stayed away.”

“Yeah, well. What were you gonna fucking do? Threaten them with shit? Give them to Mandy? Threaten them with higher import costs?” Teddy rolled his eyes. “They fucked with my business and they paid the price I thought fair. And their father was nowhere near the dockyard last week. So it worked. You’re fucking welcome.”

“Teddy, what’s brought this on?” Bellafrancesca asked, stunned. “What happened to my beautiful, quiet boy -”

“Beautiful quiet boy?!” Teddy snapped. “Is that what you really think? Beautiful and quiet? Try again, mom! What about utter disgrace? Slow disappointment? Unworthy of the Lobo name?!” He turned to her in the chair, his eyes betraying the full extent of his hatred – although whether it was towards her or himself, it wasn’t so clear. Even for Teddy. “Everything I ever did, I wanted you to just be fucking proud of me. But you’ve always preferred that fucking adopted little rat over me.”

“Teddy…” Bellafrancesca looked at him with a mixture of sorrow and disdain. She understood something fundamental – he needed a mother, right now. Not a leader, a mother. Someone to hold him. Care for him. Love him. “Perhaps… I have failed you in some ways…”

“You don’t fucking say.” Teddy’s voice broke at the end. Bellafrancesca closed her eyes for a moment.

“But… I am here now. For you. My son.” She held her arms out, but Teddy didn’t move. He was done in enough. He didn’t need that kind of fake love. His entire life had been spent trying to make her proud… and for what? She wasn’t proud of him. Bellafrancesca sighed, lowering her arms. Then, she noticed the cut on Teddy’s arm, open and quite serious. She took his arm gently, inspecting it, her grip tightening as he tried to pull away. “What did you do, Teddy?”

“Cut it. Obviously.”

“Did you tell the doctor?” A shake of the head. “Come with me.” She stood, pulling Teddy with her. He went reluctantly, Bellafrancesca’s heels clicking on the linoleum flooring of the hospital corridor.

“Mrs Lobo!” a nurse gasped, almost running into Bellafrancesca and Teddy as she came out of a private room. “Sorry – I didn’t see you there.”

“My son needs medical attention. He has cut his arm.” She pushed Teddy forward gently. She was going to be a mother now. She had to be. She couldn’t stand the idea of her boy hating her.

“Oh – right, yes. Come right this way, Mr Lobo.” The nurse coloured a little, taking in Teddy’s appearance. Still caked in blood, starting to smell a little ripe from it, too. The nurse led Teddy and Bellafrancesca down the corridor to a triage room. “What’s the problem, Mr Lobo?” she asked, once Teddy was installed, lying down on a bed with the back propped up a little bit. Bellafrancesca had taken a seat outside. She looked ludicrous, surrounded by her security team.

“Cut my arm,” Teddy muttered flatly. He held his arm out, tugging up his shirt sleeve. The nurse frowned. It was hard to see, through the amount of blood that coated his skin.

“Do… do you mind if I clean you up a bit, Mr Lobo? It’s a little hard to see with all… all the b-blood.”

“Go right ahead.” Teddy watched as the nurse, pulling on a pair of sterile gloves, started to prepare a small bath in a little tub. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Nurse Jane Peters, Mr Lobo.”

“Nurse Peters, do you know what’s going on with a patient called (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” Teddy looked up at her as she added a little iodine to the water, and pulled out a stack of lint-free gauze sheets. She took a seat opposite him, pulling his arm onto a little table.

“I can’t give any information about other patients out, Mr Lobo. Unless you’re a relative or -”

“My partner.” Teddy’s tone was quiet. Nurse Peters started to clean up the blood gently, putting the used gauze sheets into a biohazard bin beside her. “And I’m worried. I haven’t heard anything.”

“Well…” Nurse Peters trailed off as she saw how badly Teddy’s arm was cut. “Yikes! That’s a big one…” Teddy looked down. Sure enough, the cut he’d made was deep. Not enough to show tendon, but enough that it should have been causing him agony… “This isn’t hurting you at all, Mr Lobo?”

“Nothing hurts…” he murmured. He watched as she cleaned it up a little more. “So - (Y/N)? News? Please?” Nurse Peters stood, removing the bath.

“A patient was brought in with extensive wounds and a lot of blood loss… Without any names, Mr Lobo… they were given a couple of blood transfusions, and extensive stitching. One stab wound had almost hit an artery… and there were a fair few contusions internally…”

Teddy closed his eyes.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning… the patient will be placed on life support if they can’t breathe on their own.” She took a seat, a suture kit laid out on a small metal tray. “Which, following the surgery, was the case.”

“Fuck,” Teddy breathed. Nurse Peters knew the Lobos well enough to know that asking anything over ‘how can I professionally help your body to stop malfunctioning’ was suicide. So when Teddy started to tremble and cry, she did nothing than inject a local anaesthetic to the cut, smear it with iodine, and begin careful, methodical stitching that would leave barely any scarring. She covered it up, placing a bandage over it, trying not to trap any dried blood in it.

“Right, Mr Lobo, you’re all done.” Nurse Peters patted his hand lightly. “Keep it dry, have the dressing changed every twenty-four hours. You can shower it, but don’t keep it wet for too long. Any sign of infection, come straight in.” Teddy said nothing. He stared straight ahead. “You know what, I’ll give your mom a care sheet –“

“I’ll remember it,” Teddy said quietly. Nurse Peters pressed her lips together and stood, clearing up the space. “Get out for a minute.” Without question, she left, taking the tray with her.

“Mr Lobo? (Y/N) is stable. You can come in, now.” Dr Johnson poked his head around the private waiting room door. He looked tired, but an emergency three-hour surgery to repair a tonne of damage on (Y/N)’s body… that was normal. Teddy jumped to his feet and, ignoring his mother’s mild protesting that Teddy should wait for a bit, let (Y/N) settle in, he followed Dr Johnson along the corridors. “(Y/N) was in a bad way, Teddy,” Dr Johnson said, just as they reached the door of the private room. “I almost didn’t succeed with the surgery. It was almost a bit too much…” He licked his bottom lip. “Please… be careful.” Teddy looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth. In reality, his heart was where his tongue should have been. Dr Johnson opened the door, and Teddy stepped inside.

When he laid eyes on the bandaged-up form in the bed, he almost lost it entirely. Dr Johnson closed the door behind him, leaving him to his privacy.

“Fuck,” Teddy whispered, creeping closer. He felt like, at any moment, (Y/N) would leap up and attack him for doing this. But nothing happened. Layers of bandage remained still, save the artificial rise and fall of cling-wrapped chest, forced by a machine. “Fuck me… fuck! FUCK!” He picked (Y/N)’s hand up gingerly, careful not to dislodge the cannula that ran in, feeding a slow drip of saline or something else vital to life. He inspected the delicate nails, some bruised, one cut a little where Teddy had caught it with a knife.

He'd been unhinged… all because of those words.

You left me to the dogs.

But he had done that. He had left (Y/N) to the dogs. He’d sworn to be a protector, to be the only one that could cause pain… because he knew the limits he could go to before (Y/N) would suffer irreparably. The Mason brothers and Carl didn’t know those limits, and so they’d gone well beyond them.

But Teddy… Teddy had seen red. He’d seen red, and gone after (Y/N) executioner-style. And this was the result. (Y/N), hooked up to a fucking machine, fighting for life.

Just like always. Fighting for good, fighting him… now, fighting for life.

Teddy pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s hand, which he encased in his own.

“When you wake up, baby… when you wake up… the fucking world is yours. The world is yours, and everything I have is yours, and everything I am is yours…” he sniffed, letting his tears fall. “And if you don’t want me after this, baby… my life is yours to take. ‘Cause fuck… fuck, I can’t cope living with this. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so fucking sorry…”

Bellafrancesca wasn’t used to seeing her son in such deep turmoil. But even she tired quickly of being at the hospital, watching Teddy sit catatonic with this… this… person. Bellafrancesca didn’t even know why Teddy had gained such an infatuation with a police officer who hadn’t been seen for two months. In fact, that officer had gone missing… She frowned, watching Teddy, (Y/N)’s hand in his, pressed to his lips. Was her son about to turn good? Join the other side? She couldn’t stay there the whole night. Neither could Teddy. Even though they’d never be asked to leave, Bellafrancesca knew her son needed a shower, and a good night’s sleep.

She stepped into (Y/N)’s room. Teddy didn’t look up.

“Tedward. You need to go home. Take a shower, eat something, get some sleep. (Y/N) will still be here later.” Bellafrancesca was right, of course, but Teddy made no move to leave. “Teddy?” She stepped forward. It really was tiring, now. She’d been there for hours, with a silent Teddy who refused to speak to her. “Tedward.”

“Fucking go then, mom.”

“You need to come too.” Bellafrancesca folded her arms elegantly. “At least to take a shower. You smell like a dead body.”

She was right. Of course she was right. Teddy closed his eyes. He didn’t want to leave, not yet. Any sign of additional life from (Y/N)… he wanted to be there for it. But, he could use a shower.

As he sat in the back of the huge black SUV, beside his mother, he realised he didn’t want to go back to his apartment. He didn’t want the constant reminder of (Y/N). He didn’t want to take the risk that the blood hadn’t been cleaned up yet. Fresh tears came, and he slumped to the side, his head resting in his mother’s lap as he unclipped his seatbelt.

“Can I come home with you, mom?” he whispered, voice breaking. Bellafrancesca ran a manicured hand through Teddy’s bloody, greasy hair.

“Of course you can, my son,” she replied softly. “Of course, you can come home with mama.”

[duckythedarkone]

Fnaf Theory - Mimic is Michael

Disclaimer - we have no idea what is proven and what is retconned so yeah there are going to be plot holes every theory has it's plot holes. I'm just gonna bring up things that I noticed that has led me to this thought, it could be completely wrong and I am fine with that. I just want to put my thoughts out. I think the fourth closet is supposed to show how Afton and Henry are narrative foils of each other. How they could have such similar experience and yet be so different. Henry created a robot child to make up for his lost daughter. Afton steals this idea and loses his daughter in the process. Henry makes the security puppet to take care of Charlie. Afton creates the mimic and it ends up with him losing his son. To me it just sounds like every time Henry makes something, Afton steals it, corrupts it, and in the end it costs him.

Here are some clues from the games and stories that I think could support the theory of Micheal being Mimic: In Fnaf 4, We never see the older brother with legs until the last day. And the day of the party the older brother is mimicking the kids who are supposed to be his age. He is just trying to do what he thinks is right. Meanwhile, Afton is busy doing something else not paying attention.

The story the mimic brings up that the kid walks around with a stuffed animal in his hand, the crying child walks around with a stuffed animal in his hands. The foxie plushy in the crying child's room is broken as if the older brother was copying the crying child and accidentally broke it's head off because he doesn't know his own strength. Also the older brother doesn't have a room. Why would the dead daughter have a room but not the older brother unless he didn't need a place to sleep. Once the crying child is dead, Afton forces nightmare creatures to come after mimic. We know this because Michael's hand book, has a sketch of one of the nightmare creatures. No where else have we seen anyone else see these creatures.

One big thing I hear people saying is Michael isn't in the encyclopedia. And I agree with you he isn't but his room is in security breach. it feels weird to me that they would include the room, but not include the character to which the room is for. I think the reason they didn't want to add him into the character encyclopedia is because the crying child is Michael. The mimic just took his name because he was Mimicking the crying child. (I have another theory that sort of contradicts this one where Michael aka the crying child is one of the missing children but theories be theorizing) Another thing I hear you say is, but in sister location, Michael turns purple like his body is decaying. What if that was meant to be symbolism of the mimic now becoming more like Afton who he thinks is his father. And when they took out his endo in sister location, the body came back to life via all the left over remnant and or agony that was left over from enerd and baby. So now you have a body that is filled with a lot of mixed emotions hunting for Afton.

Now this is where things get a little tricky (but it's fnaf so when is it not tricky) you now have an empty endo, and a remnant filled body. If Michael is the security guard in fnaf 2 and fnaf 1 (where in the story the mimic, the mimic likes to dress up as different things) the endo could be his trying to find his body again. It is why it is a rare find in both games. (this adding new context to the endos, because we all know they weren't originally that.)

My final thing to add is that in sister location, Michaels voice sounds robotic. I think it's his last words when he dies in fnaf 3 or part of him dies in fnaf 3 and the agony left over hops into springtrap (with Afton's soul now in purgatory). And the endo that has been searching for his his body given a new objective of bringing his family back together.

Which then leads into fnaf 6 of baby "helping" mimic find his family and Henry burning all of them.

I do think there are more mimics that are the endo's in security breach, and the endo formally known as Michael could be the virus and might be working with baby (Next gen Henry and Afton, but flipped) Where Baby is trying to bring Afton back and follow his evil deeds and Michael is trying to bring back the family he thinks is his, but things get a little more cloudy in that department.

This narratively solves some of the issues for me and gives me a clear timeline of when things happened (Fnaf 4, SL, Fnaf 2, Fnaf 1, Fnaf 3, Fnaf 6 with the cutscenes, endings, and eight-bit games interspersed to fill in the gaps.) I could go MORE in detail, but this is already a lot.

[angelofrainfrogs]

Spend the Night: Ch. 20

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: The familiar melody of Grandfather’s Clock chimes through the echoing halls of the Pizzaplex…

Charlie wakes up in her Puppet’s vessel yet again with one goal in mind: to stop William Afton’s reign of terror for good. She enlists the help of Glamrock Freddy, the emphatic leader of the newest iteration of the Fazbear Band. But there seems to be more to this bear than meets the eye—and the same goes for the mysteriously familiar kid the duo find tinkering with animatronics down in Parts & Service.

With some help from friends new and old, Charlie’s journey into the bowels of the Pizzaplex will unravel mysteries none of them ever expected. 

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

Stay calm, stay calm Every hair is on its end That's fine, I'm fine Feeling my adrenaline That's fine, I'm fine

~Stay Calm by Griffinilla, Jeff Burgess~

Together, they impacted into the maintenance tunnels. Despite the tremendous fall Gregory avoided any broken bones, though nearly every piece of exposed skin that wasn't shielded by Michael's body felt bruised. In turn Mike oozed a crimson, synthetic blood—another odd detail that Henry chose to include, perhaps to enhance the realism of his work.

When Gregory opened his eyes again he spotted the go-kart, but failed to locate Roxy immediately. She’d been sandwiched between the car and the wall, so she should be lying in a crumpled heap amidst the rubble. A dark tingle of stunned fear raced up Gregory’s spine, shocking him into silence.

…That was until Roxy lifted the kart up as if it were nothing more than a blanket. She threw it, narrowly missing the boys. Gregory once again thought this might be his last moment as the wolf stalked over to them. Fingers pulled the torn fabric of Michael’s shirt; if Gregory was going down in this godforsaken Pizzaplex, the obvious choice was to cling to one of the truest friends he’d ever had while his life was snuffed out.

“Look at that… You’re going to die. No real family. No real friends, either. That must suck—” Roxy interrupted herself with her own maniacal laughter as she limped carefully towards the boys—

—until she was stopped by a thick metal cord that coiled tightly around her leg. She blinked, confused at the sudden intrusion on her work before she was pulled hard and fast. Whipped to the ground in a prone position, Roxy shrieked in both simulated pain and sudden fear.

“—WAIT! DON’T!” was all she could muster before being quickly dragged into the shadows. It was then that Gregory and Michael became audio witnesses to Roxy’s dismemberment. She shouted and pleaded until her voice box was carefully disconnected, large pieces of her thrown asunder for the dayshift guards to find later.

When the clown head emerged from around the corner, it stared right through the traumatized boys with abject obsession, voice low and crackling. “ACCORDING… TO PLAN… MIKEY…”

Michael let out a low, broken whine in response, slowly sitting up while clinging to Gregory with a grip that would certainly hurt if the boy hadn’t been just as shell-shocked. One of Michael’s hands clutched white-knuckled in Gregory’s hair, holding his head protectively against his chest. Mike’s other arm snaked around Gregory’s waist, synthetic blood leeching into Gregory’s shirt from a large gash tracing the android’s wrist to inner elbow. There was also a trickle of “blood” oozing down from the left corner of Michael’s mouth, but that seemed to be the worst of his injuries.

When Ennard simply watched them, swaying slightly but not making any move to come closer or attack, Michael managed to stutter out a hushed: “T-Thank… you…?”

Gregory couldn't speak. He wasn't sure if this interaction would make him love or hate clowns from now on. He was just certain he'd feel very strongly about them one way or another. Ennard looked topside towards the light in the ceiling before pointing behind the duo.

“...RACEWAY... SERVICE ELEVATOR... TAKE—TAKE—TAKE TO SURFACE...,” they said in a voice that sounded like nails on a chalkboard, static haze nearly impossible to decipher if one wasn’t listening close enough.

Gregory stared at Ennard, watching for any sharp movements. Then he relented, nodding his head once to show his understanding before Ennard slithered back into the darkness.

Gregory tried to speak then, to say something—anything—but the blood covering him in the darkness felt like it was suffocating him, too. Michael's cut arm shouldn't have been real, but to Gregory it looked like fresh gore, the violent wound suppressing his thoughts and making his words come out as little huffs.

This was all too much. Just when things seemed to be going somewhat right in Michael’s life, another event five times as traumatic happened instead. All he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and sleep for 100 years—maybe by that point the Fazbear franchise and all its related horrors would be nothing but dust, and Michael could finally breathe again.

But he couldn’t do that. Not now.

He had too many people to protect, one of whom was currently shaking like a leaf in his arms.

“H-Hey… hey…,” Michael began, then stopped to swallow a pool of blood that had lodged in his throat. Where it actually went he had no idea, although he wouldn’t put it past Henry to install an entire digestive system in these weird bodies.

Easing his grip on Gregory, Mike finally noticed the gash in his arm and almost choked at how real it looked. He searched for anything to stop the bleeding, but after finding nothing except broken mechanics, he simply ripped off the bottom half of his shirt and did his best to wrap the wound. Gregory was still sitting in his lap, staring at Michael’s arm with a dull, sort of queasy expression. With a grimace, Mike noticed the boy’s shirt was soaked through with a dark stain where he’d held him for dear life. After wiping the trail of blood off his face, Michael pressed gentle fingers to the underside of Gregory’s chin and tilted his head up to look at him properly.

“Hey.” Michael spoke with the confidence of a big brother taking charge to assure his siblings there’s absolutely nothing to worry about, even when there clearly is. Offering Gregory a slightly shaky smile, he continued: “We’re a-okay, kid; you’re fine, I-I’m fine, and so are Freddy and Charlie.”

He ran a hand through Gregory’s hair, trying to comfort and get off some of the dust from their tumble. “As long as I'm around I’m always going to keep you safe, okay? Promise.”

The reassuring words had put sparkles in the kid’s eyes. Though in actuality, those were just sparks from Roxy’s dismembered limbs that burned bright enough to catch a reflection off Gregory’s watery vision. While he couldn’t seem to muster words, he could finally move…

Slowly, calculated, Gregory dug inside one of his cargo pockets. After fishing for the roll of gauze he’d swiped from one of the first aid kits Gregory held it out, finally mustering the courage to speak after a few deep breaths.

“Here… Let me help,” he murmured, taking Mike's arm and slowly wrapping the gauze around the length of the cut. “Tell me if this hurts.”

Michael’s face looked bruised now, too; the cut on the corner of his mouth wouldn’t stop bleeding. 

“It doesn’t hurt,” Michael assured, his voice low and calm. He let Gregory work, watching the boy carefully. The poor thing was going to be scarred after this whole ordeal, that’s for sure—if not physically, then mentally. A sudden dark, vicious bubble of rage swelled within at this thought.

Yet another innocent child corrupted by his father’s madness. If not for William, Gregory wouldn’t be in this dank basement performing first aid on his synthetic robot friend. He’d probably be at home, playing video games or working on coding some new technical marvel.

Although, Gregory had run away for a reason… but even that place would be better than here.

Mike closed his eyes, chasing away this line of thought. Regardless of where Gregory was, he knew deep down in his soul that no one was going to love this kid more than he, Freddy, and Charlie did. Yes, they might have indirectly led him into danger multiple times, yet they always made sure Gregory was safe in the end.

“Alright,” Mike said once Gregory tied off the gauze and slipped it back in his pocket. He wiped another trail of blood off his chin and stood, holding out the hand from his non-injured arm to Gregory. “Let’s get out of here. I’m sure Freddy and Charlie are waiting for us.”

Gregory nodded and returned a forced confident smile, reality setting in that if Michael wasn’t there, he would’ve certainly died this time. He lifted himself up, using Mike’s hand as leverage before clinging tightly around his waist.

“I’m glad you’re safe, Michael.” Gregory punctuated this with a sniffle. Even if he was really the one in danger, Gregory couldn’t be more appreciative that he now had someone in his life willing to risk themselves to protect him. Those lights of admiration stuck around in his gaze long after they exited the area with Roxy’s twitching, bifurcated body…

***

When the lift doors to the elevator finally opened, it was apparent Freddy and Charlie had the same idea to go down and look for their friends. Upon seeing the gore splattered on Gregory’s cheek and shirt, not to mention the state Michael was in, Charlie gripped her hair in stress.

“Golly gosh—what the hell—” Charlie at least tried not to swear as she looked on to her friends.

“We’re fine,” Gregory insisted dryly, taking a long and smooth breath.

See? He didn’t even cry this time.

Everything was just… numb. Did that mean he was getting stronger?

Charlie looked down at Gregory worriedly, hands moving to cover her mouth, then pull at the collar of her shirt. In rare form, Charlie had been rendered speechless.

“Are you sure?! You are covered in blood, Gregory!” Freddy exclaimed, looking more distressed than he’d ever been.

“It’s mine—don’t worry,” Michael said, releasing Gregory’s hand so the bear could fret over his son. Mike looked to Charlie, giving her a tired smile which unintentionally reopened the cut in the corner of his mouth. He wiped the red liquid away with the back of his hand, letting out a short, hollow laugh. “I guess we do have blood in us, huh?”

Freddy of course conducted a health scan of Gregory, paws fluttering around the boy uselessly for a moment until he determined the extent of his injuries. Thankfully, the gash from Roxy’s claws had stopped sparking and was now just a less hazardous but unnerving open wound of exposed wires in Freddy’s arm. True to the boys’ words, Gregory was completely unscathed. The red stain on his shirt was not real blood, and any scratches from the wreck and subsequent fall were surface level.

“Thank goodness you are safe!” Freddy exhaled unnecessarily in relief, pulling Gregory in for a tight hug. He looked to Michael over his shoulder, blue eyes full of utmost gratitude. “Thank you for protecting him, Michael. I… I do not know what I would have done if—”

“Say no more, Freddy,” Mike cut him off gently. He cracked a grin, finally relaxing somewhat now that Freddy confirmed the kid was truly okay. “I told you he was safe with me, didn’t I?”

Holding tightly onto their resident papa bear, Gregory forgot his troubles for a moment. There was no need to worry about Mike; when the man stood up completely fine, he figured there hadn’t been any huge internal damage.

In the spirit of trying to keep things light, Charlie pulled her jacket sleeve down over the heel of her palm and begun to wipe Michael’s face clean of the fake blood. It seemed that this trend of cleaning up Mike’s rough and tumble injuries would continue throughout their immortal lives.

“That’s actually really metal,” Charlie mentioned, unafraid to don the green jacket again despite its now alarming blood stain. “My dad must’ve thought of everything when making these things…”

Gregory was busy nuzzling his face into Freddy’s shoulder, his troubles nearly forgotten as he explained: “That clown guy—Ennard? They ended up saving us…”

Charlie gave Michael a look, followed by a nervous chuckle. “Guess Ennard does love you, in a weird way…”

Michael could only grimace at this, recalling Roxy’s blood-curdling pleas as she was systematically torn apart. At least Ennard had the sense to spare Gregory from the sight of it all, though their violent strength only left Michael to wonder for the billionth time how the fuck he’d survived that thing living inside his body for a week… However, he’d learned long ago that some things simply aren’t meant to be answered.

“They ripped her to shreds…,” Michael eventually clarified with a light shake of his head. “I think we can safely say Roxy’s down for the count now, too.”

“At least our goal was accomplished,” Freddy said, lifting Gregory into his arms. He did this without thinking, just wanting to keep his son close after such a traumatic event, but by the way Gregory folded into his embrace to rest against his chest like it was the comfiest spot in the universe Freddy knew he didn’t mind.

Chuckling softly, he ran a claw through Gregory’s hair, then frowned when a plethora of dust came away in a little cloud. Glancing down at the stained shirt, then to Michael who was now essentially wearing a ripped-hem crop top, Freddy suggested: “…Perhaps we should stop by the gift shop and get you both some new clothes.”

“I don’t know—” Charlie chuckled, deciding to poke a little fun at her friend. “—that’s a very bold fashion statement you’ve got going on there, Mike.”

But of course, there was the matter of getting Gregory properly clothed now. Surely having that sticky red substance on his chest wasn’t comfortable.

“You need a new jacket, Charlie,” Gregory pointed out, adrenaline giving way to exhaustion as he chose to relax without protest in Freddy’s cradle. Periodically, Gregory would pluck and hold the bloodied shirt away from his chest as Charlie pondered this.

“I want to see what hoodies they have,” she remarked somewhat excited to be able to look for clothes. It was one of those things she never thought she’d miss until her soul was rearranged into a Puppet. “Let’s go. We can get Gregory a treat for being so brave.”

Charlie decided it best to treat her pseudo-brother with relative sensitivity. He wasn’t delicate, though to her it seemed his psyche was wearing thin from the violence he’d now become accustomed to.

“Maybe they have some cool retro shirts…,” Michael thought aloud, following alongside Freddy as the bear began to walk. He tugged at the tattered hem of his current top with a small sigh. “I’m forever grateful to Uncle Henry for these bodies, but this outfit is not my style."

Freddy chuckled at this. “I am sure they will have something that suits you—and if we cannot find anything to your liking on the main floor, we can check in the stock room.”

“Yesss!” Michael cheered quietly, pumping a fist by his side.

Maybe it was the fake-blood loss, or simply the high from nearly watching his new brother get turned into a fleshy pancake on a go-kart roadway, but as they walked to the gift shop Mike almost felt like a kid again. His best friend and his brother were going with him and his surrogate dad to the store, where they’d do some shopping before returning home for the evening. It was a surreal thing, for Michael to feel like he had a family again after all this time. Gregory and Charlie would never be replacements for Evan and Elizabeth, but the connection Michael had with them was just as strong—and Mike was doing his damndest not to mess these relationships up like he’d done for all the others in his life.

And then there was Freddy, the animatronic bear that was the most paternal figure Michael had come across in literal decades. A slow grin spread across his face as he remembered the kind-faced body waiting patiently for its consciousness down below. When Gregory and Freddy found out, Mike had a feeling they were going to lose their minds in the best kind of way.

Charlie couldn’t deny that she was excited to find new clothes. The ones her dad picked out were nice, the dated feeling of the 80s style familiar in a way that tugged at her heartstrings. Thankfully, in the Pizzaplex there was no shortage of things from that era. Looking at the newer “retro” fitted clothing lines that Fazbear Entertainment released had only driven Charlie to find more just like it. Her first grab was a loose fitting tie-dye shirt. In the middle was a classic Freddy face, giving a wide open smile. It made her wonder if they were trying to make it intentionally look like a Grateful Dead t-shirt and decided she liked it.

“Whoever’s designing these needs a raise,” Charlie announced, throwing it over her forearm along with a pair of high-waisted skate shorts. On the left leg was an embroidered patch of the Fazbear gang, simplistically stitched with bright, saturated characters.

Gregory felt the same as Michael as they began their little shopping trip, even if neither spoke their feelings aloud. While Charlie dug through the racks for a stylish hoodie to match her new outfit, Gregory clambered inside the rack. He'd always do this on the rare occasions his foster family took him out—only he meant to stay hidden from them. This time was merely for kicks. Having trouble finding something he liked, Gregory decided to poke his head out and get Michael's attention.

“Hey, Mike? What clothes do you normally get?” he asked, trying in a coy fashion to emulate his sense of style.

“Uhhh…” Michael stalled at the question, hands poised to shuffle through a display of shirts on the wall. He hadn’t worn anything but tight-fitting uniform work clothes for years, simply because they were functional for both his job and keeping his body in place. He also hadn’t actually gone clothes shopping in a long time—not since the magic of the internet allowed him to have things delivered right to his apartment, saving him a trip to the store where he’d be met with curiously suspicious glances.

He tried to cover up as much as possible, but inevitably one person would take it upon themselves to be the crowd’s spokesperson, walking up to Michael and asking in a not so subtle way if he had a contagious disease that caused his unusual pallor. Mike couldn’t count the number of times he’d simply told them he was a flesh-eating zombie who’d come to feast on their brains, then promptly left the store never to return. Even if no one but him understood the joke, it was still good to find humor where he could… though unfortunately his sense of humor got him banned from half the department stores in his city.

But back to Gregory’s question. The boy wanted to know Michael’s fashion preferences, and with a grin he replied: “I only get cool stuff, of course—you know, ripped jeans, leather jackets… Ooh, and rad shirts like this one!”

With awestruck eyes, he pulled a shirt from the back of the rack and held it up to the light. It was a loose-fitting tank-top that looked like the sleeves had been ripped off, leaving jagged edges in the turquoise fabric. The whole thing had a weathered, grunge sort of feel, and printed smack dab in the center was a fully colored decal of Glamrock Foxy’s grinning face.

“That's perfect for you, Mike,” Charlie pointed out, gently pulling Gregory out from the cover of the clothing rack, clearly feeling nostalgic since walking into this themed store. “You wanna be like this dummy and wear muscle shirts during the winter, little man?”

She remembered Henry telling Mike he’d get sick from being so cold, but for the longest time that style was all Michael would wear. Gregory thought being able to withstand the cold sounded pretty tough, because he was in search of something similar. He nodded, then dashed off towards the juniors section. When his search turned up empty, he instead went back towards the young adults’ area to look for something like Michael grabbed.

It was clear to Charlie that Gregory wanted to dress like Michael, and she found it endearing. She noticed a black muscle shirt with a Foxy-themed Jolly Rodger, finding it's toned down design cute. The skull had been replaced with a smiling foxy, and the bones crossed beneath were slices of cheesy pizza.

“Hey, Gregory, you should get this one,” Charlie urged, tossing him the shirt to go try on.

“This one's real rad!” Gregory said, using the slang he'd heard not five minutes ago before running off towards the changing rooms.

Michael was already in a stall when he heard Gregory’s speeding footsteps go into the one next door. Slipping off his old shirt, Mike did a quick 360 in the mirror to make sure there were no hidden injuries from the crash that’d come back to bite him later. To his relief, it seemed like his arm was the worst of it, though thanks to Gregory’s surprisingly good first aid it'd stopped actively bleeding. The cut on his mouth had stopped too, and as Michael looked closer he was shocked to see that it looked like the skin had almost healed itself back together… Just another question for his increasingly long list of things to ask Henry the next time they saw each other.

After slipping on the new shirt, which matched nicely with the dark-wash jeans this body came equipped with, Michael stepped out of the changing room at the same time as Gregory.

“Hey, nice pick!” he praised with a laugh when he caught sight of the boy’s new shirt, holding up a hand for a high-five.

“Really?” Gregory asked, slapping the palm of his big brother’s hand.

Freddy had been watching this whole display of course, and he couldn’t stop smiling. It warmed his heart to see the pair bonding like this—it was obvious that Michael cared a great deal for Gregory, and Freddy was thankful his boy was warming up to Mike as well. His prediction that they’d become an inseparable duo seemed to be coming truer by the minute.

Charlie squeezed behind them, closing the door to get changed—another daily ritual she’d have to get used to again. By the time she came out, Gregory was fixing his outfit in the mirror. The long hem of his t-shirt was half stuffed into the front left side of his cargo shorts, keeping the pockets clear for easy access to his things. As Charlie exited the changing room, she snatched a snapback cap from the back of the door. The pink hat with a pizza embroidered on the front had been a collectors Chica item, something Charlie wouldn’t mind stealing for herself.

“You ready, Charlie?” Gregory asked, spying her in the floor length mirror.

“Totally; let’s bounce,” she replied holding her hand out for him to take. When Gregory ran to grab onto her, she felt her heart melt. She never had a little brother, so this experience was new. She ate up the attention Gregory showed her, and in turn looked out for him.

“Let’s goooo; I want ice cream!” Gregory called to Freddy and Michael, happily walking besides Charlie. With three of the most dangerous animatronics gone, tonight they could relax. And Gregory could pretend their lives were normal for a few sweet hours.

“Ice cream?” Freddy repeated, falling into step beside Michael, who chuckled and patted him on the back.

“Charlie promised him a treat and you didn’t say no, so… looks like that’s what we’re going for,” Mike explained, to which Freddy nodded in understanding. Michael then leaned in close, whispering so only Freddy could hear: “Where’s the bakery? I think an ice cream cake with blue icing is just what he needs, don’t you?”

Freddy gave a soft laugh, recalling the group’s conversation in the diner. It seemed like so long ago, but in reality it hadn’t even been 24 hours since then...

“Follow me, everyone!” Freddy announced, picking up the pace until he was able to take the lead. As Charlie and Gregory began to follow, Michael moved to Gregory’s other side and held out a hand. When the boy readily grasped it, Mike beamed down at him before turning a raised eyebrow to Charlie. Silently, he jerked his chin downwards, and as one they hoisted Gregory into the air, letting his feet dangle a few inches off the ground. His weight was still nothing compared to their robotic strength, and based on his shriek of laughter he didn’t seem to mind the lift at all.

“Gregory,” Charlie voiced inquisitively, lowering him back to the ground as she asked “When’s your birthday? I keep forgetting to ask how old you are…”

She was already thinking of ideas for celebrating his special day. Between Charlie and Mike, they didn’t have the best track records with birthdays, and she was determined to make sure Gregory’s was something great. Plus, Charlie had simply grown to love throwing parties.

“I’m twelve!” Gregory chuckled. There was no further elaboration, which in turn confused Charlie. Before she could question him further Gregory gave their hands a firm squeeze and asked in a sweet voice she couldn’t refuse: “Wait—lift me up again?”

Michael obeyed Gregory’s request as well, giving Charlie a half-shrug as he met her gaze over the kid’s head. He was curious too, but birthdays were still a sore spot for him even after so many years; he certainly wasn’t going to push Gregory to explain himself if he didn’t want to. Maybe Freddy would be able to coax the information out of him at some point…

A few minutes later, the group concluded their blessedly animatronic- and night guard-free walk to Chica’s Bakery. The diner theme continued in this restaurant, and Freddy instructed the group to get settled in one of the bubblegum pink booths as he ducked into the back to retrieve Gregory’s treat.

The pristine vinyl seats were a safe haven. Chica's Bakery looked to be Chica's Party World inspired in its patterns and color pallete—pastels with a few neon mixed in to really draw the eye in against eggshell white backgrounds. It reminded Charlie heavily of Fredbear's Family Diner, and she closed her eyes in a sigh as she slid into one of the booths.

Falling in besides Michael was his little brother. If Charlie squinted, Gregory was already becoming a miniature version of her best friend for life and beyond. A loving homage to his saintly protector in grunge clothing.

On one side of the booth near the wall, there were sugar packets for the coffee menus. In an act of giddy delirium, Charlie experimentally ripped one open to sample its contents. She wanted to see exactly how realistic these androids were.

When Charlie felt the sensation of sweetness on her tongue for the first time in ages, her eyes widened in pure shock. Hell, her pupils even dilated even from the simple sugar rush.

“Mike—dude, put this in your mouth. My dad's a freaking genius!” Charlie exclaimed. Somehow, she registered that it was sweet. The granules may not have melted on her tongue as fast as they would for a normal human, yet somehow she could taste them. As Gregory swiped the half-spilled packet from Charlie’s open palm, she found herself laughing out: “No, Gregory, not the straight sugar—”

“Hey!” Mike exclaimed in mock offense, more concerned with the sugar being snatched away from him than Gregory actually eating it. With a playful shove, Michael pressed Gregory into the plush seat back of the booth and reached over him to grab a packet for himself. Ripping it open, Mike leaned his head back and tipped half the contents into his mouth. His eyes widened as the sweetness washed over his nonexistent taste buds, and he promptly poured the rest of the sugar down his throat before Gregory could take it.

“Holy shit!” Michael murmured once the admittedly overzealous amount of sugar crystals had dissolved. Realizing what he said, he quickly slapped a hand over his mouth and threw a furtive glance towards the back kitchen. To his relief, Freddy was too preoccupied with his task to hear him, so Mike settled back into the booth with a grin.

“…Don’t tell your dad I said that,” he felt the need to remind Gregory, as if the kid would store this incident in his memory for potential ammo against him later. “Anyway—yes, Uncle Henry's amazing! I can’t believe we can actually taste stuff!”

Back in the kitchen, Freddy was staring down at the perfectly written cursive adorning a deathly-sweet treat. Unsure of what flavor to pick, Freddy had opted for Neapolitan ice cream encased in a fluffy, vanilla cake. The whole thing was slathered in white icing, and Freddy had added a simple border of puffball-shaped drops in electric blue that just so happened to match the lightning bolt on his chest. The bear had also taken it upon himself to write a message on the cake, which he was currently reading over to make sure it was absolutely perfect before he presented it to the eager group outside.

Charlie leaned back, laughing at the two of them as they interacted. Between Gregory actively trying to put himself into a diabetic coma and Michael swearing in front of him, it felt like she was hanging out with him and Evan again. Still, she didn’t think of Gregory as a replacement by any means, regardless of the similarities.  

Upon spying Freddy carefully toting the icy confectionery treat, Gregory practically stood out of his seat with a gasp.

“Guys, look!” he exclaimed in surprise. “Look what Freddy has!”

He shouted as if unable to put together words to match the joy he felt in that moment. Charlie looked to Freddy, pretending as if she didn’t already know the plan.

“Oh man—is that what I think it is?” she goaded, urging the excitement she saw bubbling behind Gregory’s eyes.

Charlie loved this; it felt nostalgic in its own right. Like a little private party they would throw for friends while hanging out at the dinner. Little celebrations just because they could…

When the cake finally reached the table, Gregory stood on the seat to glance at the message written in perfect script on its surface.

“Well, well,” Michael murmured, leaning back against the booth with arms crossed in front of his chest, a slightly smug grin tugging t the corners of his mouth at Gregory’s obvious excitement. “Seems that bear knows you pretty well already, huh?”

“Here you go, Gregory,” Freddy said with a beaming smile, setting the cake down with the practiced flourish of having done so hundreds of times. His soft gaze swiveled over the trio before ultimately settling on Gregory—the cake itself might be for him, but the intent of the message was for all of them. In fancy blue script were three simple words that encapsulated everything they’d been striving for these past few nights:

Welcome home, superstar!

Gregory had eyes fixated on the cake. As Charlie retrieved a spoon for him to feast with, Gregory could feel something wet rolling down his cheeks. The ice cream beneath the perfect blue icing tasted smooth, chilling his lips and staining them with its rich dye. Undaunted by the warm flow of water coming from the corners of his eyes, he thanked Freddy through a cold, grinning mouthful: “Thank you, Dad!”

This was it. This was the best cake he’d ever have. There likely wouldn’t be a need to taste another in his life, because no cake would be sweeter than this one.

***

Previous Chapter ~~ Next Chapter

Looking for more? Check out the Chapter Masterlist on Tumblr!

Or check out the entire Wires that Bind Us Series on ao3!

[acertainevilcreature]

The weird character alignment chart in ruin

So at the start of security breach ruin there is what looks to be a character alignment chart graffiti one the wall next to more graffiti saying “I spent the night here and lived”

I have not seen anyone talk or theorized about these (and I personally can’t think of any meaning behind it) but I thought it’s be fun to take a closer look and see what names are on it

First of: the chart itself

There are 4 categories(? Idk what to call them) if the chart

“Wizard” (at the top)

“Cryptid” (at the bottom)

“Filled with anxiety” (to the right)

The last one is covered by vanny graffiti but from what I can see says filled with [short word that ends in y] (my best guess is either funny or agony)

Onto the names

There are 7 names that I could find some more readable then others

First (and most notably) is Mike placed between “cryptid” and “filled with anxiety”

Then a name just above Mike with an arrow pointing at the “filled with anxiety” line

It seems to start with a C or a G and end in y, at first it looked like Cassy but the more I looked at it I could see it being other names like Gary Gray or again Casey

Closer to the middle but between “wizard” and “filled with anxiety” is a name partly covered by a broken heart graffiti

It seems to say either Lina or Dina as the first letter is unclear (notable this name has a heart draw in front of it)

Right next to “cryptid” but on the “filled with [obscured]” side is a much clearer name

Cedar

Next is a longer name that I honestly have no idea what it is

It seems to start with a V had a J or G closer to the end and seems to end in sus?? Yet again have no idea what name this could possibly be but it’s right underneath “filled with [obscured]”

Another one that a can’t tell what it is, it seems to start with a G the next letter is obscured and then a g? Then what looks like 3 more letters and who more or less look like E or A

this one is on the “filled with [obscured] side but higher up closer to “wizard”

Lastly is a similar one

I thought it was to smudged but the more I looked at it the more it very clearly said “Lucas”

This one is next to “wizard”

If steel wool has said something like this is just a reference to steel wool employees or something (which I could totally see be the case) and I’m actually just looking to far into it then let me know but for now this is just an interesting observation

[squidbulborb]

Mmh i Saw your post about Henry being the one possesing gr.freddy in sb and Saw your point about if William would represent Bunnies that Henry should represent bears Made me remenber that i thougth mostly at the time that the one possesing the blob was Henry keeping his promise of keeping William trapped in a laberint without éxit, becuase i wanted To keep the idea of his sacrifice working, but no it didnt aparently and the blob are the kids again

The only labyrinth with no exit in this franchise is the hellish loop the narrative that this series takes over and over again.

(I kinda ended up going in a rant here so... sorry for that)

Fnaf really shows what happens when a story has no planning, it's an incoherent list of plot points that contradict eachother and lead nowhere. This story has no themes, no moral, no point, a maze with no prize. There aren't even characters, nothing is explored or fleshed out, the games rarely tell us their personalities, motivations or goals, and when they do they are often hollow cliches.

The Fnaf lore/storyline the fandom has in the collective conscious is the result of years of gaslighting themselves into believing their own headcanons as truths. Michael Afton has no motivation or personality, no concrete evidence to be the protagonist of anything, William lacks coherent goals and characterization, he is more of a chaotic evil force of nature than a human being, Elizabeth is irrelevant to the story at best and contradictory at worse, The Crying Child doesn't even have a confirmed name, they are literally nothing.

The Emily's where relegated to irrelevance, mere footnotes on their own story, hopelessly watching everything around them wither away, like puppets on strings. The missing children, the catalyst for this ENTIRE FRANCHISE, are treated as plot devices, forgotten and ignored...

Security Breach is the last nail in this decaying coffing. There's nothing left, the people who are in charge of this series have no idea what compelling storytelling is, they don't even know how to tell a story in the first place. The Blob is the perfect symbol for these games, a pile of trash with random bits scattered throughout it, trying it's best to reach a cohesive form, to be anything, but it's just a hollow monstrosity.

Yet i still care. This franchise is broken... but I'll will put it back together... somehow...

[fourgondor]

Hello, all! I'm not much a poster (more of a consumer and sharer); however, I've been working on some writing about the happenings underneath the Woodland Realm canopy, and I wanted to share it so it wouldn't stagnate on my thumb drive. I don't exactly know where I'm going with it (hence why it doesn't have a comprehensive title), but I'll keep at it! I know there is so much more to the fandom then a swath of fir forest without much canon lore, but there is something about it that won't loosen its hold on my mind. Hope you enjoy this lil' snippet.

TW ... mild blood and references to violence and medical treatment

CHAPTER 1: Broken Beginnings

Soldier – The Hill

The scent of iron was at once a source of comfort and foreboding. It foretold the arrival of reinforcements, of saviors orchestrating a symphony of ruthless carnage, yet it also portends the upwelling of lifeblood from a fatal wound. The prone soldier was intimately familiar with this paradoxical philosophy. A soldier of a war-besieged land who was born upon the battlefield, and who would likely die upon it.

Ai, Naneth, he thought, why did you consign me to this fate? A life of sorrow, of death? Upon a field soaked by the mingled blood of the enslaved enemy and the free People, you found distraction, and creation.  I’m being unfair but dying allows one to view life in perspective. Consider this rant the comfort I demand from the doom you passed onto me.

Again, that word. Comfort. Ironic that it would haunt me now, not the dozens of elven soldiers I chaperoned to an untimely gathering in Námo’s Halls. Are they arranged around my broken body watching, waiting for my fae to flee into their bitter embrace?

The arrows protruding from his abdomen give a twinge in response. That’s the response he deserves. He led them into this massacre. He urged them forward; a retreat was not an option. A wall of rotting corpses would be sufficient for keeping the yrch from breaching their borders. From reaching them. With him gone, they would receive more income than he could provide them in five and ten years from the Valar-damned Halls. Many a comrade had cracked the formula, and if they leaned into the wind, providing the piercing shafts a target… Well, who’s to know in the chaos of battle. The thought had crossed his mind more than once these past years. Only the sorrow they would feel at his loss has kept his blade from turning on the flesh of its master.

Dark silhouettes crowd his muddled vision before a searing pain erupts from his front, either a finishing blow or an attempt to staunch the blood pouring forth like sap from a poisoned spicket. A fool’s errand, that last one. Already, the venom has numbed his limbs and dampened his senses, but he thinks, or perhaps hopes, that a voice pleads him to hang on, that he is needed, that he is wanted.

Blackness encroaches upon his vision; he raises his eyes to the sky one last time and lets it take him.

Navaer, eryn nin.

Healer – Forest Narrows Base Camp

Gondiath sighed in relief as he caught sight of the final thorn held securely in his metal pincers, his fingers having long lost their feeling. Not often was the healer subjected to such mundane toils of medicine; constant battle to the south brought broken bones and gaping gashes to his notice, not berry prickles.

So, he was rather surprised when a group of edain children shuffled onto his doorstep in the early afternoon bespeckled with blood and punctured with so many thorns as for him to mistake them for sniffling kindling. The ruffians were infamous for the chaos they sowed in the camp, for Gondiath himself had lost much of his dignity at the hands of this particular band of mortal rascals.

In the aftermath of their most recent offence a fortnight ago, the company had…

“S’bout time, Gondi! Thought as I’d have to bring their supper to ’em. A shame such pretty flowers and ripe berries have sharps as pointy as your kind’s ears, eh?” a broad shouldered shadow exclaimed from the archway leading out to the town proper.

Dropping the accursed splinter into the wooden bowl usually assigned for yrch arrowheads, Gondiath shook his head in fond exasperation at the approaching figure. “If the Captain could hear the crude manner in which you have spoken to me, he would strip you of your hide after all the time he put into your lessons. I’d say there’s enough of you for a winter cloak, but out of love for my sister, I will restrain such thoughts.”

An indignant gasp issued from the rowan stubbled mouth, followed by a flamboyant hand thumped against a breast. “There’s no need to be so hostile, brother. Aren’t you supposed to be dedicated to the healing arts, not wounding me so with such words?” the now illuminated man, Eardwulf, questioned with a twitch of his brow, a giveaway for his taunting sarcasm.

“I may have the hands of a healer, but let it not be said that my mouth extends the same courtesy.”

With a hearty laugh a stranger would have not ascribed to the lean man just passed his twenty-third year whose hair fought tooth and fiber to escape its leather confines at the crown of his head, Eardwulf herded the bandaged children out of the healing halls towards their simmering dinners with an over-the-shoulder farewell.

They had been lucky, reflected Gondiath, as he shook his head and began gathering his instruments. Blackthorn could pierce the toughest leather hide, and it was that very property the camp inhabitants embraced. Given proper tending and manipulation, the bushes became barricades that at once warned away invaders and grew sweet summer berries.

The musing awakened a tension in the healer’s heart. All the children were warned from venturing to the southern regions of the camp where such berries were to be found, for as the temperature began to drop and herald the coming of autumn, the vile creatures of the Hill would reawaken. We, too, have been blessed; there hasn’t been any activity, even after the final summer harvest. Despite the need to clean his implements before rust could cling to their gleaming surfaces, his eyes strayed to the doors opened to the southern entrance, the same entrance the captain and his company had left just three days ago.

Ai, Elbereth, return them home safe. I have bloodied my hands enough today.

Scout – South Guard Tower

Gleaming sunlight danced across the forest floor, encouraging the verdant leaves to join in a merry jig welcoming the evening. Not often did the light of Arien grace the camp with her summer fieriness, especially not as the winds changed from balmy to crisp. Eoforwine exhaled with a snort. Here he was, a hardened woodsman, waxing poetic about nature as if he were one of those crazed Wood Elves. Or, at least, one particular elf.

He supposed he could blame this new-found appreciation of his surroundings on their impending departure from the camp; the final harvest would also signal the final reaping of the settlement’s inhabitants; both would head towards the North before the unsavory creatures made their presence known. This would be his twenty-sixth season as head guardsman of the Forest Narrows Base Camp and its autumnal convoy, and his body knew it well. Rain, although welcome for its nourishment of their crops and as a marvel for the children to sing and dance in, was also a heralder of chronic pain for the aging soldier. Gondiath worried over him to no end, pressing soothing balms into his aching hands upon his return from every patrol. Even though the silva was as old as two generations of his family, Eoforwine viewed him as a son alongside that of his blood, Eardwulf. The two acted like brothers enough that an outsider would think of them as such, if not for the peaked ears of the former.

They’re likely bickering now, thought the soldier, twisting his head with the breeze towards where his family awaited his guardsmen and the Green Company. Captain and his elves had set out for a three-day expedition to the Narrows in search of healing herbs that did not flourish in the North as they did here, a wonder considering the malice lingering on their doorstep. Just like us.

Eoforwine stretched his arms overhead, hearing a satisfying pop! from his shoulders. It wouldn’t be long before they returned; elven eyesight may be able to see an orc from five leagues away but straining it to identify specific vein patterns and colors at night was asking too much. One herb always in demand, athelas, could be easily confused for any number of weeds if one could not identify its pinprick white blossoms. As in answer to his thoughts, a horn sounded from the forest, heralding the arrival of the company; however, after some minutes, Eoforwine felt his pulse begin to race.

Branches cracked and leaves crunched as the sound of thundering hooves reached his ears. No matter how much he yearned for their urgency to be the result of their eagerness for their northward journey, that breakneck pace could only mean one thing: something had gone terribly wrong.

His fears were confirmed when four horses materialized from the dense woods paralyzing minutes after the initial horn call. The leading two steeds were joined together by a hastily made stretcher, and upon it lay Captain, bleeding from the abdomen. Eoforwine’s world narrowed to the red coloring the elf’s front and that of his rescuers. It felt like he was watching from above the tower as he screamed for his guards to raise the gates, as he ran to the very edge of his post to get closer to the bloodied soldier, to his adopted son. He barely had the mind to look at the other two steeds, who carried not two riders between them but six, all of whom were covered in blackened blood.

As soon as the gates were at a safe height, the company urged their horses at an even more merciless pace past the outer towers. Shaking, Eoforwine found himself sinking to his knees, muttering prayers to their forest patrons.

Oromë, herald their coming with thy mighty horn.

Nessa, give their steeds the speed of thy deer.

Yavanna, bless them with the protection of thy canopies.

Thirty soldiers split between two groups had passed these very gates earlier that morning; only half would return by the time Arien closed her eyes in tired sorrow. A night of blood and pain was upon them all.

"Author" Note: If you'd like, I can post a character sheet with characterizations and relationship statuses, but I might just leave that to the text ;)

[harkovastwebcomic]

Chapter 26 part 3

Zadakine warriors, seeing their opportunity, clambered over the rubble eagerly. Going over the top of the pile, the fighting shifted in their favour as they were now coming down the slope. The Nymus soldiers were better equipped and trained than their Zadakine opponents, but the weight of numbers and momentum was with the Zadakine. The Nymus began to fall back from the rubble to regroup. The Zadakine, reaching the bottom of the breach stopped to regroup, gathering their forces to secure their foothold within the city. The Golta Rangers reached the top of the rubble and took up positions, firing their rifles to ensure the Nymus could not effectively reform to counter attack. Upon the walls, Shogun, covered in Junlock blood, looked down on the fighting below. The defences were being breached at the gate and at the broken wall, and the defenders were being hard-pressed by enemies pouring out from the siege towers. Nymus warriors on the walls were beginning to cast off their armour and shields and then leap from the walls to escape back into the city. Shogun snarled as he rushed along the top, barging allies and enemies out of the way until he was above the gate. Then, without hesitation, Shogun leapt from the battlements. He curled into a ball, falling like a stone, directly onto one of the tightly-packed enemy Ivos mercenaries. Shogun slammed down, crushing Ivos under him and knocking others off their feet. Shogun himself, having mastered the Anvil of Moi-Lon technique, stood up unharmed. Without hesitation, Shogun began to slash all around with his blade, cutting down Ivos who had yet to recover from his landing. The defending Ivos drove forwards while their enemies were disrupted. The attackers began to retreat and then fall into a confused route back through the gateway. In the panic, men became packed together, struggling to get through the gates all at once, trampling their wounded under their hooves. Those at the back of the retreat were mercilessly cut down by the defenders as they struggled to escape. As the remaining attackers managed to flee out of the gates, Shogun glanced around again. Though this was a victory, the wider situation was becoming untenable. The exodus from the outer walls was now in full swing with any Nymus that could, escaping the rampaging Junlocks. The Zadakine were more cautious than their mercenary allies, and continued to move troops through the breach in the wall but not advance further, content to build up their strength within the city. The officers with the defending Ivos recognised their situation and began calling for a retreat. Having just chased off their rivals, these mercenaries were in high spirits, despite the broader situation, and began to fall back into the city in good order.

Shogun gritted his teeth. Retreating from the enemy went against his instincts, but even he could not fight an army alone. Reluctantly he followed the Ivos Mercenaries. The city’s outer wall was impressive, but not their only defence. There was a secondary, inner wall. While smaller and less impressive, its position within the city made this secondary wall more difficult to attack and its smaller circumference made it easier for defenders to concentrate their forces. However, Shogun was shocked when he reached the inner wall and found it was closed.

[yandere-sins]

The Best Caretaker

Characters: Yandere!Sun/Moon (FNAF: Security Breach) x Reader Warnings: Yandere, Flesh Wound, Blood Mention, Pain Mention, Robot Tongue being used, It’s a little wholesome bc Sun, Evil Plotting

With the biggest smile you could muster, you wormed your way out of the group of children soothing their anxiety as they initially saw the pain on your face.

Even if it was just for them, you had to keep your composure despite the wound hurting like hell. You were their caretaker. If you started to panic, so would they. Holding up the arm that was bleeding from your wrist to your elbow, you covered it as best as possible with your free hand so the kids wouldn't have to see the gruesome mark of irresponsible maintenance. It wasn't showing anything but ripped skin, but definitely not shallow, blood dripping incessantly from it and making you worry about all kinds of cleaning you'd have to do once you were wrapped up in a bandage. Hopefully, the animatronics would start the cleaning and repair work before you came back so that no child had contact with your blood or the broken part of the play structure that you cut yourself on. You didn't want to think about what kind of lawsuit that would cause.

Hastily, you pressed your staff badge to the keylock for the staff room, disappearing inside without causing too much commotion. A tiny bit of relief settled inside you after you closed the door quickly, taking a deep breath. Looking down at yourself, you realized you had to change your uniform, blood having spilled on it too, unfortunately. But first, you had to take care of your arm. Putting it under the water faucet to clean it, you grabbed some nearby tissues to dab the wound lightly. If you were honest, it hurt. A lot. You bit your lip and tried to get a grip on yourself, but looking at the torn flesh and blood made you feel a little dizzy even. Perhaps you accidentally got stuck on the part that had interrupted your playtime with the kids, cutting yourself deeper than you first expected. Everything had been on autopilot since then, so you simply functioned. Now that you had time to think about it, it started to hurt and scare you much more than before. But even as you felt the tears burning in your eyes from the pain, you could only think about how glad you were it happened to you and not some child.

Opening the cabinet over the sink, you looked around for the first aid kit, letting out an exasperated gasp as you found it sitting on the top shelf. Just out of reach for you, or anyone if you were honest. What good was a first aid kit if it wasn't available for everyone? "Great," you grumbled, frustrated. Letting your shoulders hang for a moment, you tried to be rational, looking around for a stool to climb. On the other side of the room was the much-needed stool, causing you to groan inwardly. Nothing was convenient for you, it seemed. Moving over there and taking it back to the sink would undoubtedly open your wound and make it bleed again, which you only just managed to control. But what else were you supposed to do?

Just as you were about to turn around, you heard a knock on the door, surprising you initially. However, you quickly replied with, "Come in!" secretly a little relieved that one of your co-workers would look after you and help you. You heard the jingle of bells before you saw the slender fingers of your favorite animatronic wrap around the door, his sunny face peeking out from the gap. Usually, you'd be happy with a visit from Sun, but given the situation, you weren't sure how to react. You always got along well with the robot, you two hitting it off right away. And yet, you still knew so little about him, or rather, his programming, unable to feel safe around him especially because you were injured. Was he okay seeing wounds, considering he was working with children?

Sun must have noticed how torn you were, partially trying to hide your throbbing arm from him. The usual grin plastered to his face only disappeared judging by the tone of his voice. His cheerful mood seemed to fade the moment he saw your pained expression and the red tissues on your arm, causing him to slip into the room in a rush to get to you.

"[Name], what happened?" Sun asked, worried as he hurried over to you, hands lingering awkwardly in the air as he was unsure how to help without knowing the details. Calling you by your name was new, and you were a little stunned that he didn't use a nickname. Waiting for an answer only seemed to make the animatronic more jittery as he lingered around, bending himself to see better.

"It's- It's not that bad, Sunny. I just got stuck on one of the play structures. There was a sharp edge on the frame and I didn't see it. We need to contact maintenance about it," you explained as best as you could, finally allowing him to see a bit better with what you were dealing with. Giving your eyes a quick wipe as he seemed to inspect your arm cautiously, an idea came to mind. You glanced back at the first aid kit in the cupboard, too high to be reached by you.

"Sun?" you called him sweetly, his eyes snapping from your wounded arm up to you immediately at the call of his name. "Could you get me that first aid kit up there?"

Without a second of hesitation, Sun stretched out his already lanky body, surprising you with how close he came to you but easily reaching what had been a challenge for you. A sigh of relief finally passed your lips as he set it down on the counter, unzipping it while you intended to clean your wound once more under the water. But instead, your arm was suddenly caught by Sun, who turned you around again to face him.

Not giving you any form of warning, his mouth opened, a long, metal tongue covered in something slimy, translucent, and wet slipping out. At first glance, you were horrified, not having been informed he could open that part of his face or that his mouth even had a tongue. But Sun quickly explained as he analyzed the many complicated feelings you were displaying, giving you an answer to the most pressing question you had. "I am antiseptic," he chuckled, always the happy type. "Always need to be one step ahead of the kids!"

Blinking a few times, you weren't sure if he was merely joking, but since he didn't spring a "Just a joke!" at you despite seconds passing in silence between you, he must have been serious. It definitely wasn't the most practical feature, especially not if he actually had to clean something. Still, someone must have had good intentions when they gave him this peculiar skill.

Hesitantly, you held your arm out to him, reminding him, "Please be gentle..." as he eagerly took it from you. At first, you actually expected him to grip you too tightly or hurt you otherwise. However, Sun supported your arm by your elbow, relieving your shoulder with the most tenderness you had ever experienced before. Even when he leaned down to lick your wound, he didn't press or pull on you, a truly remarkable and complex machine standing before you. Were all workers treated this way? No wonder you rarely saw someone sick or injured here before if they had top-machines at their disposal to take care of these things.

At first, it stung, but you kept a grip on yourself. For what looked like metal, the tongue was flexible, warm, and of course, wet. No matter how much you told yourself that this was normal, it still was horrifyingly strange, and you hoped to never have to do it again. Nonetheless, thankfully it did relieve some of the pain you felt and took some of the tension in your body away. Sun's tongue barely lingered at the spot where the cut was the deepest before he retracted it back into his mouth, grinning at you like always.

Still a little perplexed about his skills, you wanted to reach out for the ointment to put some on the wound after all, deciding to trust Sun when he said he had antiseptic spit, despite it sounding bizarre for you indeed. However, you only felt empty space as your fingertips dipped into the kit. Confused, you looked up, only to see Sun holding and opening the ointment tube already, having it snatched before you.

"Thank you, I'll take it from here, Sun," you thanked him, holding out your hand to take the creme from him, but he merely lifted it high in the air, unreachable for a normal-sized human like you to take it from him.

"Ah, ah, ah," he scolded you softly, evading your efforts to take the tube from him. "If you're hurt, you should let other's help, you know? You can't always do things on your own."

Defeated, you let out a sigh, unable to help yourself from smiling softly. Now Sun was just treating you like a child, giving you these words of wisdom, but you couldn't be mad at him. This time, Sun held out his hand, and you put your good one inside, letting him pull up a chair and eagerly tell you, "Sit, sit!" before kneeling down in front of you. Finally, you two could see eye to eye without him having to bend over for you, or you break your neck to look up at him. It was actually quite nice for a change, and you appreciated him gently taking care of you. No one besides yourself was taking care of you lately, so it really helped you calm down and release the pent-up anxiety from the accident. Sun seemed happy to help as he hummed children songs and applied the ointment, his fingertips brushing over your skin softly, not disturbing the wound at all.

"Do you have to give first aid often?" you asked him, wondering since he was so careful with you. "Occasionally," Sun quickly answered, looking up and into your eyes briefly with a smile plastered to his face. "Kids can get hurt even though we make sure everything is well-padded in the Daycare!"

It really helped you to talk to him. His phrases were obviously programmed to give the most satisfying answer, especially if angry parents complained. But they put you at ease, normalizing the situation. "You're really the best," you mumbled as you watched him stretch out the bandage before putting it to your wound.

"Hm?" he chirped up, laying his head to the side questioningly.

"You're so careful and gentle, and your presence really calmed me down. Thanks, Sun! You're the best caretaker there is!"

"Oh, you," he hummed, seemingly flustered by the compliment, his head moving side to side as he put his attention back to the bandage. "If anything, I think you are a much better caretaker than me! You're kind and sweet with even the smallest child! You're doing an amazing job, you know!"

Now it was your turn to be flustered, and you wondered how much programming went into him after all, to be able to respond like this. "Thank you," you whispered, watching him wrap your wound tightly but not uncomfortably. It meant a lot to you that he said that, still being rather new at your job. Program or not, getting compliments and being well cared for lifted your mood immensely. His presence alone, silly and sweet as he was, did a great deal towards you feeling better.

Finally, when he let go, you checked that the bandage was secured and wouldn't come off before smiling back at Sun. "You did an amazing job," you praised him, adding a heartfelt, "Really, thank you, Sunny."

It didn't go unnoticed that his circuits seemed to speed up hearing you say that, but seeing Sun happy automatically made you happy as well. He just had that kind of power over you and the children, his enthusiastic and lively attitude brushing off on you. Even if some adults and your co-worker thought he was over-the-top and a little creepy, you'd never be able to see what they saw when they looked at him. He was the sweetest, most caring, and gentle animatronic in the whole Pizzaplex for you, and you were glad to work with him the most.

"I tried my best, just like we always should! Make sure to clean it properly, or come find me whenever, and I'll wrap it up for you again!" Sun chimed, lifting his hand to caress your cheek, wiping away the remainder of a tear from your eye. It made you laugh even more, briefly leaning into the big palm of his. Sun let out a happy hum, laying his head in your lap as best as he could with the big ring of sunrays decorating it. Almost like a puppy, you knew from experience that he liked being pet as well, much like a child, so innocent and sweet. You were glad to reward him a little for his help and for changing your mood.

"I'll better change quickly and get back to work now, but thanks for everything," you mumbled, and Sun let out a hint of a sigh, unwilling to depart. The sound of wiring announced Sun moving away from you again. However, you caught a brief indication of disappointment in his posture, shoulders hanging, his back hunched, before he looked at you again, beaming as always.

"Anytime, Sunshine!" Sun grinned, slowly standing up again, the hydraulics moving his body pumping loudly as he moved back on his feet. Even though it was awkward and hard for the tall animatronic to kneel down, he did so without any hesitation for you. It made you almost feel bad that you hesitated relying on his help, especially since he did such a good job at it. At the same time, you felt a little special that he'd go to such great lengths for you.

"Can you cover for me until I get back?" you asked him, almost feeling guilty for asking even more of Sun after all he did for you.

"I will, but come back soon, okay?"

Smiling, you hooked your pinky with his that he held out and nodded. "Promise?" he asked, and you replied confidently this time, "I promise!"

Reassured, Sun trotted back to the door, turning around one last time to smile sweetly at you before disappearing outside, and looking at you until the last possible second till the door closed in his face. He may just be a robot, but you couldn't help but feel moved by his care and how he went out of his way to check on you. Even if it was just the programming, someone definitely graced him with all the good traits you could only wish for in your fellow humans.

Relieved after the positive experience and with your wound wrapped securely, you made your way down the tunnels to your staff lockers, wanting to quickly change and fulfill the promise you made. It wouldn't look good if you stayed away too long either, but you took it on yourself to inform maintenance while you were already down there about the accident.

Walking down the long, dim tunnels, you considered bringing Sun a little gift when you showed up to your next shift to show how thankful you were to him. He really was the best caretaker, after all.

"You almost killed them," Sun snapped at his alter, standing in the corner of the playground and watching the children play from afar.

You're exaggerating. They are fine.

Huffing, Sun put his hands into his hips, shaking his head. "I said a little accident. I just wanted some time with them. But you just had to slice open their arm, didn't you?"

Well, it did taste good, didn't it? Moon chuckled in the back of their head, reminding Sun of the little taste he had. A forbidden taste of something he never had to analyze in his databank before. Something only he knew about now, unwilling to share it with any of the other animatronics via data transfer. No one should have the privilege to know how you taste. They are our favorite, after all.

"My favorite," Sun corrected him. "They are the best caretaker of them all, and I love them!"

Wonder if they'd like you still if they knew you destroyed that part of the structure, knowing they'd be stationed there today. A knowing tone laid in Moon's voice as he made his partner flustered, Sun sputtering as he tried to come up with a quick answer.

"You did! You destroyed it!"

What's the difference, Sun? You are me, and I am you. We did this. Don't forget that you wanted some time with them. We just did what was necessary to achieve that.

"Let's… Let's not do this again, okay?" Sun mumbled, fiddling with the bells on his wrist. The very same one that you tightened for him on your first day of work here, when you didn't know that you weren't supposed to be close to the animatronics. But even when you got reprimanded for it, you still went out of your way to be close to Sun, pet his head and help him with his tasks. He didn't know it back then, but he has loved you ever since. The only one who came to him and touched him, unafraid even though you weren't a mechanic. And you let him touch you as well, something that was considered a big no-no in the industry, but it felt so good.

That's why remembering your wound hurt him too. The tears in your eyes from the pain and how helpless you were since he hid the first aid kit too high for you to reach. Sun didn't know Moon had been quite so vicious in his help, or maybe he did know, but how would he have been able to estimate the danger it would cause for you? Secretly, and even just because Moon laughed at him as he had these thoughts, he knew all of it all along. After all, he was programmed to do better, like fixing these problems and alarming the right people if he found broken equipment. Not breaking the equipment and injuring innocent people like you! It was all the fault of this damn glitch that he wanted you to himself as much as possible, even doing bad things to achieve that.

You say that we should stop, Moon mocked him. But we know what station they are at tomorrow. We can have them more to ourselves, and you know that.

A bad feeling crawled into Sun's engine as he heard his alter whisper these ominous words into his head. Feelings of longing for you to pat his head again, playful banter and cleaning together, taking care of the children that both of you loved so much.

If you don't want them tomorrow, I'll have fun with them instead.

It was a threat from himself, and at the same time, it made Sun unbelievably angry. He felt like he was overheating from the inside, a strange, new feeling he developed ever since the glitch transferred over to their software. "No!" he yelled, some kids nearby flinching, and he quickly put on a smile to soothe their fear. "No, you can't," Sun whispered as he helped the children up on the play structure, them starting to play happily and having already forgotten his outburst.

What? You're still scared they'll like me more than you? And yet you're too afraid to monopolize them a little bit. You should use your time more wisely, or I will take them from you.

"Damn you, Moon!" Cursing wasn't a trait Sun liked to have. Still, with an excellent array of words at his disposal, not everything could be blocked and instead simply escaped him without thinking.

Don't worry. You can watch from the back as I play with them and lie in their lap while it's naptime. They'll be petting my head then, but I'm nice and let you feel it too.

At this point, Sun was shaking from anger, his body rattling when he saw you come out of the staff room again. His wild emotions instantly vanished, turning much softer and happier now that you were back. You, too, searched for him, waving as you spotted him from afar, and he waved back energetically, only to feel regret again seeing your arm.

So… Are we sabotaging the paints for tomorrow? Moon asked, a grin audible in his tone.

"No, that will just make them change uniforms again if the paints explode. I wonder…" Sun glanced at the play structure close to the tables for the fingerpaints. The station you'd occupy tomorrow.

Oh, Sun, Moon teased him happily. We're finally on the same page. A head injury will get them knocked out for sure.

"And we'll have to carry them to the infirmary," Sun added, fond of the idea of holding you in his arms as he rushed you across the Plaza. He lifted you up before. You felt like a big teddy bear in his arms, soft and ticklish. You also smelled incredible. Much, much better than children. "We'll need to take care of them."

And turn the lights out for them to rest.

"Keeping them on and staying by their bedside is all we're going to do!"

Don't pretend you don't want it too.

Embarrassed, Sun hid his face in his palms. "Stop it, you naughty boy!"

The sound of Moon's laughter vibrated in his head while Sun stole another glance at you through his fingers. You were soft and kind, the sweetest soul out there and someone he'd miss every time he was roaming about, and you were nowhere to be found. Hopefully, you could understand what he felt, how much he longed to be close to you. Glitch or not, Sun just wanted to be by your side always. Not just as animatronic and worker in this daycare. Closer than that. Maybe, you'd understand these feelings better than he did when you two spent more time together.

And me, Moon added, prying into Sun's thoughts like an unwelcome guest.

"They can forget about you. I don't care," he grumbled as he walked back over to where you were, planning to check up on you and see if you were okay to work again.

You're such a killjoy. Moon clicked his tongue, and Sun rolled his eyes.

"They're mine."

Ours.

"Mine–"

Forever.

[e1-bi]

SPOILERS FOR FNAF SECURITY BREACH!!

and yes, I'm aware this blog is Jojo but I just needed to share this...

Yeah, FNAF Security Breach is amazing but why is nobody talking about Gregory looking like that? I'm concerned about why Freddy thought it was a good idea to let the 12-year-old sassy gremlin child even drive the car. He looks like he's going to murder your entire family... and he will if he wanted to.

Gregory with an actual gun, though? Yeah, the first thing he'll probably do is shoot the Map S.T.A.F.F Bot. As mentioned before, he said,

"Ugh! I hate that thing!" (or as my "amazing" memory says so)

Gregory does not like it. Especially when he ran into the Map S.T.A.F.F Bot and whipped it off. Making the creepy, chaotic face we see above.

Second, I think it'd be Chica. Counting how many times you see her around. She's all over the place and the first enemy you encounter and interact with. Chica already got folded by Gregory. But I don't think it'll really stop her, she got crushed by the trash compacter. Voicebox taken. Got her beak crushed by Gregory. And she still stands. But after he messes her up, I think the gun will come in handy by that period. She's immune to a ton of things. But if it was the originals then they will immediately get broken.

Third, it'll be little Music Man. Or at least Gregory tries. It's not possible. It moves in a zig-zag when outside the vents. And inside the vents, it goes in a circle. And it moves rapidly. He'll only waste ammo. But it's worth the shot.

Fourth(or third), Roxanne. You see her more than Montgomery, or Monty. Because of her speed, I think it'd be a little harder when you're running from her and you have to reload, that takes time. But it's definitely possible, far from impossible. Because of her narcissism and the way she thinks, she'll underestimate Gregory. Gregory is a clever, chaotic child. And when he's devoted to something he'll do it. He's not a pussy. But once you shoot her, she'll have a mental breakdown. Again, narcissism. At the start of the game, you see Roxanne talking to herself. Hyping herself up. Basically, being a narcissist. And, one of her quotes is,

"I bet I'm your favourite?"

Obviously, it's not true. But when you hear her talking to the mirror, she says,

"Everybody loves you."

She's hyping herself up. Basically saying how everything about her IS perfect. And you hear Roxanne crying when you get far enough in the game. Everything about her has to be perfect. It's a narcissistic thought but it's clear that she thinks that way.

Fifth, Monty. Monty is strong and clearly has anger issues. So I don't think it'll be possible. He'll hurt Gregory, and I'm pretty sure that's his intention throughout the game when he gets more pissed off. In the Boss Battle, I think Monty will harm Gregory. Again, anger issues. But he's not ALLOWED to. So at first, he restrains himself when he doesn't catch Gregory. Going around the middle, I bet it's harder to restrain himself. And at the end, he just snaps, I'm assuming. Again, anger issues.

But if it's Gregory we're talking about, yes, he will shoot Monty. Because he's a more recent animatronic, his body and endoskeleton will be stronger. Bonnie broke down and they replaced him with Monty. You don't see him in parts & services but I think they threw him out. In the messages, they talk about replacing Bonnie with Monty because of the fame and money their receiving BECAUSE they did that. Meaning, they quickly fixed another animatronic up but more beefed up than the others. And replaced Bonnie. So it'll take multiple shots to take him out.

Sixth, probably Vanny. But because of her glitchiness and such, it's impossible. Like, seriously impossible. Your vision glitches out when she's near you. You could barely see her. Yes, you can shoot her when she's far away. But with her glitchiness, the bullet would probably glitch out. Which will be very cool for detail yet very frustrating for the player.

And the people he took mercy on...

First, it's Freddy. Everyone knows this by now. Freddy is the himbo father, of course not! Gregory will never.

Second, Vanessa. Because she's human. It's illegal and that'll be a homicide. But, I'm a 50/50 with this one. All of this happened because Vanessa is chasing him. If Gregory shoots Vanessa, I don't think he'll give two shits. Either way, if she dies or not. Gregory probably doesn't want to get arrested and hunted down by the police. If it was legal then he will shoot Vanessa. Plus, Vanessa was kind of a dick to Freddy so Gregory will probably get mad.

Third, huge Music Man. No words. But for the people who say he will, no he won't. Music Man is huge and nothing will barely happen to him. Gregory can't hit a weak spot if he has multiple hands and legs. It'll just add a hole and Music Man will get furious and just unalive Gregory. Plus Music Man's place as HOLES in it. He can just crawl into one and be fine.

Fourth, Sundrop. Why would you ever want to shoot Sundrop? He's harmless! You monster! He only bans you for breaking his ONE rule. That's respectable. He lets you do anything, just don't break his ONE rule. Plus, he just wants to have fun with you. He's so gentle with you too. Why would you ever want to hurt him? But because of Moondrop, it's understandable. But if you hurt Moondrop, you hurt Sundrop. So Gregory can't shoot Moondrop. But he will if he could've.

The moral of the story is, don't fuck with Gregory. Just don't. He can and will fold you. Even if he looks innocent. But there's nothing innocent about the picture above. Looks like he came from hell, more powerful than the lord of hell itself.