the-matpat-ever

[the-matpat-ever]

I CAVED.

SIREN MAREEE

(Idk how to draw fins...shhhhh...I may digitalize & color this so I'll fix it then...)

His design was inspired a little bit by @bondoes-art and her fish Maren design!!!!

[the-matpat-ever]

AAAMSNSBDHSJSKSNSWJ

IKKK I ALREADY SAW THIS BUT I GOTTA SAY IT AGAINNN

I LOVE HIS SMMM SKAKSBSBJSKA

YOURE SO GOOD AT MAKING MOODBOARDSSS

Phantom Fictionkin Moodboard <3

Saw my good friend @the-matpat-ever post his moodboard as a fictionkin of Phantom a bit ago, and as I’m also a fictionkin of Phantom I figured, ‘Hey, why not?’ So.. here’s this!

——

“Side-stepped fate, went right for the gate / But you know the devil, he loves a good chase!” — Charlie’s Inferno

——

[the-matpat-ever]

AAAAAKSNSJSJKWKSK

I WAS SCROLLING THROUGH YOUR ART EARLIER AND WAS LIKE...EATING YOUR SCRUMPTIOUS ART OF THEM AS FISHHH

I LOVE THEM SMMMM

THEYRE SO FRICKEN CUTEEE

EATS UR ARTSTYLE WHOLE IN ONE BITEEE

I ABSOLUTELY ADORE YOUR ARTTT

Ough...Someone needs to draw siren!Natemare...I would KILL for art of himmm

AND IF YOUR THINKING

"Oh Matt!! Why don't you just draw ittt!!!??"

I DONT WANNNAAAA IM LAZYYYY😔💔

....

I'll do it later...😒

[the-matpat-ever]

Ough...Someone needs to draw siren!Natemare...I would KILL for art of himmm

AND IF YOUR THINKING

"Oh Matt!! Why don't you just draw ittt!!!??"

I DONT WANNNAAAA IM LAZYYYY😔💔

....

I'll do it later...😒

[the-matpat-ever]

I COOKED SO HARDDDDD

AAAJAKSJSNKWLAKWK

I TOOK SOME INSPIRATION FROM ONE OF MY FAVORITE ARTISTS @colourfulmes :D

[the-matpat-ever]

Hey, so remember back in February I announced I would be doing a project where me and a few others would cover the entire Fnaf: The Musical?

Who would be willing to VA for Freddy for my FnafTM cover project?

The person who originally voiced Freddy opted out and now I need a new voice actor for him

It would be great if you have discord but you don't have to have it. Just comment or dm me if you are interest please

I've been wanting to do this for a while and I'm just honesty upset :( Not at anyone in particular but more just that I've been so excited to do this and I haven't been able to..

[the-matpat-ever]

Just saw your feedback on that vignette; so glad you enjoyed it! (Lol, it’s the first actual short story I’ve managed in some time.)

Really, though, I appreciate you taking the time. I haven’t been getting very much engagement lately, and that’s seriously been messing with my motivation. So, unfortunately, that’s led to me pretty much wasting this year’s MerMay aside from those headcanons 😅 

Currently working on two more vignettes, for Murdock and K.O. respectively. Hopefully I’ll be able to get them both out before the night is over. 

Plus, like I said before: I’ll be picking this stuff back up in July for Shark Week! (And while I still wrote the Pentas MerMay-Skins from a variety of species, I’m sure you can guess who will be up first for that little venture… 😈)

Yeah!!! I absolutely love your writing and it always brings me joy when I get to read anything you write:) I'm always excited to read your fics and stories so the story you just posted about Parker??? I LOVE (Nate egos my beloved...) I hope you feel more motivated to write because, as I've said before, I LOVE YOUR WRITINGGG🙏🏻♥️ I didn't even know about MerMay until you mentioned it and I loved your headcanons for MerMay, they make me feel unbridled joy

My silly brain is always thinking about your mob au...Words cannot express how happy it makes me feel when I see that you've tagged me in one of your creations. It's a blessing, honestly :)

[the-matpat-ever]

OMG PARKERRRR

AASLGSDPYLSGLSH

I LOVE HIMMMMASLYSLG

EATS UR WRITING

RAAARARARAAAA

I LOVE PARKER AS A SEA KRAIT NAGAAA

MerMay Vignettes [1/???]

(Disclaimer:both of the characters in this story belong to me. For more information on Parker, go here. For more information on The Newcomer—or on the mob they work for in general—go here. )

(Since it’s MerMay, most of my fanegos have gotten a special little shift for the occasion! I’ve organized a new, temporary list of headcanons for The Pentas Family—each member’s species, vague lore-bits, etc.—which can be found here for context.)

(And yes, this fic just the first of many. A few more will be posted later today, and I’ll come back to this AU-Within-An-Au in July. Y’know, for Shark Week.)

(Trigger Warnings: slight thalassophobia, water/the ocean, body horror, torture, drowning/waterboarding, implied murder/death, physical violence, descriptions of illegal business, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.) 

When you were desperate to focus, it was truly a blessing that background noises came in all sorts of categories. 

Granted, the soundtrack of panicked thrashing and gurgling gasps for air was not among said categories. Not for The Newcomer, at least, but that would change sooner or later. They were still in training, after all. 

Besides, there was plenty of other sound around them. 

Somewhere outside, thunder was rumbling ominously about its plans for the day. 

Waves swept in through the cave’s mouth, churning against stone and lapping at the sand.

And a voice, a bit scratchy around the edges but still managing to be clear and rich: “What, did I make ‘em a little too Lovecraftian this time?” 

The Newcomer looked up from laptop and over to the man who’d just passed it to them. 

…Well, he sort of looked like a man, but only if his upper-half was all you saw of him. And from a distance at that, since it’d be easier to mistake his grayish-white scales for pale skin. Maybe the black stripes could’ve been written off as elaborate body-paint, what with the way they draped over his arms and almost seemed to be streaming down his cheeks. 

Past his waist, however, all bets were off. 

Because that was where the stripes got a little wider, wrapping around in near-perfect circles, forming a pattern that stretched through a sinuous tail twice as long as the average human was tall, all the way down to the paddle-shaped tip.

The Newcomer couldn’t help but snort. “Lovecraft got freaked out when air conditioners were invented. He wrote a whole book where the supposed horror was a stand-in for not understanding air conditioners.”

Parker gave an almost neck-snapping doubletake, claws suddenly frozen halfway in the wet sand where he’d been idly drawing scribbles. His mouth dropped open, brow furrowing as he grappled with a range of different emotions. 

(Shock from the bluntness of the statement, begrudging agreement on just how true that statement was, and aggravation due to his hobby being compared to close-minded whining that tried too hard to masquerade as scary and mysterious…even though Parker had been the one the set that up.)

The Newcomer glanced over the laptop’s screen again. Over the lyrics organized on what had to legitimately be the thousandth-or-so document Parker had typed up. 

After letting the naga ponder that little jab for a few more good, long seconds, they continued: “Having said that, this is one darkest things I’ve seen all month. And that’s just from reading it—anyone who listens to it with the right music will be up all night questioning their life.” 

Like their more animalistic cousins, most nagas lacked eyelids. Parker was one of them, so The Newcomer was robbed of any confused blinking on his part. But he did still lower his head and huff an incredulous laugh, and that was good enough. 

A rare smile stretched across his features, showcasing his fangs in a way that was intimidating no matter how casual the rest of his body language was.

Hell, The Newcomer knew about the genetic defect that left him without any venom-glands connected to those fangs, and really, that was the absolute least nature could’ve done to his threat-level (aside from making him an introvert). 

More thrashing and gurgling reached The Newcomer’s ears. 

Parker’s current postion left his torso and folded arms on the sand. The rest of him was a tangled heap in the water. A little ways behind him, a pair of hands broke the surface to claw at the air, punching and dragging their fingernails against black-and-white scales. It looked like a decent, frenzied fight, but it barely got a flinch out of Parker. 

Raising an eyebrow and clicking his forked tongue, Parker shifted onto his side to glance over. He ever-so-slightly loosened his coils—just enough to let his victim’s face up.

The target faltered for a second, gasping and hacking and choking.

The Newcomer tilted their head to the side, shuffling closer. Not too much. Just enough to see how bloodshot the target’s eyes had become as they rolled around in his head, both due to lack of oxygen and the saltwater. 

Aside from its narrow, sea-facing mouth, Parker’s cave offered one other opening on the sandier part. In lieu of a door, a huge, dark green curtain hung over it, suspended by a track that had been painstakingly added onto stone. The sun was out, so its rays streamed through the curtain’s fabric to cast everything behind it in an emerald shade, which also kinda made Parker look like a rejected side-character from Beetlejuice (or perhaps a Rob Zombie music video, although that depended on his mood).

And that, in turn, helped to make the target look like he was being held in a vat of churning acid or slime.

This current job wasn’t the first he’d taken, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, either. Much like the other members of The Pentas Shoal, Parker often took his payment in certain luxuries provided by the clients. 

Hence the extension cables snaking under aforementioned curtain from both the inlet box and generator Parker had hidden outside. They stretched along the sand, pushed up against the cave walls and as far away from the water as possible.

One was attached to an amplifier, which was positioned right next to a rack of guitars (both electric and acoustic) in one corner. The others found themselves powering a record player, a charging table that offered a suspicious-and-then-obvious lack of chairs, the works.

Other than that, the cave’s space was mostly taken up by a plethora of expensive towels and pillows, forming a sort-of makeshift nest.

Now, one could make the argument that this space should’ve been taken up by things like a oven or refrigerator or lighting. But that would be forgetting a crucial fact of life: the majority of merfolk were just fine living semi-feral (which was a more detailed version of spite), and  despite only being amphibious, Parker was no different. Natural instinct came through in the place of money.

The Newcomer wasn’t sure if Parker’s current target was aware of that, but if he was, then they had a feeling that knowledge only made his circumstances worse. 

“C’mon, buddy. This is…what, the seventh time?” Parker asked, peering over at The Newcomer, who nodded. They admired Parker’s knack for multitasking; as far as they knew, he’d been working on this interrogation job a while before they’d stopped by for music-talk. “There was no point staying quiet in the first place, and there’s even less of a point to it now. Why not just spill and get it over with?” 

“Please…!” the target rasped, his voice suggesting his throat had been scraped with rusty metal and then washed out with vinegar. “I-I can’t—I need—” 

“Wrong answer,” Parker interjected. With a theatrical, disappointed sigh, he wound his coils tighter (not to suffocate, mind you).

“No! NO—!” The target’s cry quickly transitioned into gargling as he was pulled back down. 

With that, Parker turned back to The Newcomer. “Well, did you catch any spelling errors? Would it flow better if I switched anything around?”

“Not really. Everything seems to be in order.” The Newcomer shrugged and shook their head at the same time. 

“What about the instrumental structure? Those it go well enough with the rhythm I set up?” Parker asked. 

“I think it does. You have way more experience with that than I do,” The Newcomer assured. Their lips quirked a bit as the questions continued sinking in. “I thought your philosophy was to never focus on whatever the listeners are thinking.”

“Hell yeah it is!” Parker insisted, his claws fidgeting in the sand again. “But that’s for the music itself. If I want the studio to keep accepting these, then they need to be formatted above a fifth-grade level.” 

The Newcomer considered this. 

There was no arguing that Parker had talent; while he mainly sang and played for himself, he still knew to capitalize on his way with words and sheet music. 

Really, that aforementioned studio was lucky that he’d decided it was worth his time to sneak in after closing and drop off his songs. There weren’t that many urban legends connected to music, so he had to pick up the slack.

(That didn’t stop him from using the studio’s amenities, of course, but business was all about give and take. Especially the stranger types of business.) 

“Yeah, that’s fair,” they admitted. “Kinda depressing if you really think about it, but fair.”

“Exactly,” Parker nodded. There was a bouquet of complex emotions on his face, though a sadistic grin sliced through them as the target’s struggles grew weaker.

@sammys-magical-au @the-matpat-ever

[the-matpat-ever]

OMG EATING THIS UP?????

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

I FOUND THIS ON TIKTOK ORIGINALLY

IDK HOW I DIDNT REALIZE HOW FAMILIAR THE ARTSTYLE LOOKED..

AAHAKSKSNENEKSWK

I JUST KEEP ON REWATCHING THIS OVER AND OVER AGAIN...

FLASH WARNING

Who up missing Unus Annus

[the-matpat-ever]

THATS WHAT IM TRYING TO FIGURE OUT😭😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

...

So...

My dreams are wild...

(I'm so sorry in advance😭)

SO

Had a DREAM where there was an audition of some sort of who'd be which ego in a roleplay based on the ranked fanart

The person who was hosting this competition was @lexusveryreal for some reason??? And my friend Rye was auditioning for Natemare so she was drawing him. But I accidentally was drawing on her tablet and so Lexus disqualified her because she just KNEW that I was helping her draw him for somehow????

And so she was ranked last place and didn't win but I was like that's not fair???? And so I wrote a letter saying how there should be another audition and Lexus accepted it? WHAT IS MY DREAM???? Anyway, so later in my dream I start creating different aus of Natemare and then the dream just

Ends

MY DREAMS ARE SO WEIRD😭🙏🏻

HOW DID I MANIFEST LEXUS IN MY DREAMS????

[the-matpat-ever]

...

So...

My dreams are wild...

(I'm so sorry in advance😭)

SO

Had a DREAM where there was an audition of some sort of who'd be which ego in a roleplay based on the ranked fanart

The person who was hosting this competition was @lexusveryreal for some reason??? And my friend Rye was auditioning for Natemare so she was drawing him. But I accidentally was drawing on her tablet and so Lexus disqualified her because she just KNEW that I was helping her draw him for somehow????

And so she was ranked last place and didn't win but I was like that's not fair???? And so I wrote a letter saying how there should be another audition and Lexus accepted it? WHAT IS MY DREAM???? Anyway, so later in my dream I start creating different aus of Natemare and then the dream just

Ends

MY DREAMS ARE SO WEIRD😭🙏🏻

HOW DID I MANIFEST LEXUS IN MY DREAMS????

[the-matpat-ever]

PAULTIN X ESCHERRRRR

I NEED MORE FANART OF THEMMMN

[the-matpat-ever]

....

Feeds you

I NEED PAULTINxDIATH FAN ART PLEASE.

[the-matpat-ever]

HURT/COMFORT OF MY BABIES

Purely self indulgent pertaining to me as a fictionkin of Natemare & and also Phantom

[the-matpat-ever]

Phantom Fictionkin Moodboard

[the-matpat-ever]

WHY ARE WE BURYING PHANTOM😨/SILLY /J

I LOVE THIS SM

AAAAAAKWKNNRHSJWKWK

SHAKES YOU POLITELY

EATS UR ART

THIS IS SO FUNNY OMG

PHANTOM BURIAL TOUR?!

[the-matpat-ever]

Nothing Else Like "Christain Love"

I hope you enjoy my AU of Fnaftm!Nate's backstory!!

CW: Religious themes/religious trauma, body gore/bodily mutilation, & self harm

Quick soft thuds of socked feet echo through the hallway as they make a beeline towards the nearing bedroom. The boy let's out heavy gasps, face twisted with fright and confusion, dark brown eyes red from being on the verge of tears.

A crash is heard behind the trembling 8 year old, running clacks of shoes hastily gaining on him. It only serves him to run faster as he felt the burn of his little legs working on autopilot. The hallway seemed never-ending but it only really was a few seconds before he slammed the door shut in the woman's face. There's a soft click of the lock.

"Nate! Open the door! Please! You're- You're sick, baby!" She cries out hysterically from behind the barrier between them, her hands balled up into fists as she bangs as hard as she could against the wood.

Tears build up behind his eyes before tears start falling down his cheeks freely like heavy rain. Nate slips into his closet, closing the door behind him and locking it. He hugs his legs to his chest, tucked away in the little corner with his back against the wall. Litte gasps wreck the boy's body as exhaustion claws at him, settling deep in his bones.

"Mommy, please . . . " He whimpers, voice cracking. It was pitch black with tight enclosed walls surrounding him. The shreaks and screams continue to bellow from outside the bedroom. Nate's breathing is heavy, heart beating out of his chest that threatened to burst.

He felt like he was suffocating. Just like when he was with Mommy's friends. He didn't like when Mommy invited her friends over . . . They scared him . . . He didn't think they liked him either . . .

Hysterical shouts of prayers paired with weeping sounds and bangs of fists could be heard from outside the closet. It was hard for Nate to concentrate on exactly what she was saying but it all just registered as white noise. Did Mommy not love him . . ? Why was she chasing him . . ? He didn't like being unable to move. Restrained.

The overwhelming darkness was too scary for Nate so he reaches up on his tippy toes to pull the cord. A face flashes in front of him, a pair of soft eyes staring back at him. This was his friend! Bits of dark and white hair frame the other little boy's face, white feathers mixed with a gradient of grey shaping into little angelic wings. Something you'd see out of a holy painting.

A little cherub.

The cherub's face mirrored Nate's, similar features adorned them. Nate is overwhelmed with joy and fear as he hugs the little boy to soothe his pungent fear and worries, burying his face in its shoulder blade. Nate looks up at the door when there's eery silence all of a sudden. Is she gone? Is . . . Is she okay? What if something bad happened to her?

"Nate, baby, please come out. They're gone, honey. I'll make you blueberry pancakes . . Pinky promise." Her voice came out sickly sweet and weak, as if she was on the verge of breaking. "Please . . . "

Nate's face twists in guilt, feeling awful as if he swallowed a huge rock. No no no . . . Why was she sad? Did he make her sad . . ? No no, Mommy doesn't deserve that. But just as he's about to twist the door knob the little cherub gently grasps his arm firmly. The cherub shakes its head.

"She's lying," it whispers, stating matter-of-factly. It pulls the little hand away from the door, holding it in its own. "Mommy's allergic."

"Oh."

Oh yeah. Mommy hates blueberries. They don't even have pancakes.

There's a few beats of silence before Nate's lip begins to tremble.

"Mommy . . ?" He calls out softly, the closet soaking up any sound the boy emits. The cherub is right beside Nate, standing over him in a protective stance.

And then suddenly a CRASH and loud B A N G is heard through the room, following the door being ripped open to disfigured mobs of white faces that were hard to distinguish from one another. But all Nate knew was that they were angry.

Nate silently gasps in fear as he presses himself flat against the wall in the crevice of the closet, using the hung up clothes to further hide his little body from view. The warmth of hands that he had initially felt were gone. A distressed squeaky scream came from the cherub's lips, thrashing as tears poured down its cheeks. Sobbing. Shaking as it's ripped away from the little boy still in the closet.

He goes to scream or shout or do anything to retaliate. To get his friend back but it was as if someone had a hand on his mouth, preventing him from uttering a single word. The hand belonged to a shadow. This shadow followed him everywhere.

It laughed and cried and screamed with him. After all, this was his shadow. And this shadow was him. Nate lifts his head while sniffling, the shadow's hand and his overlapped as they took hold of the door knob.

Nate relunctantly shuts the door and then suddenly the pressure from his chest lifted. But not entirely. Shifting it to the back of his mind, reduced to just a dull ache in his head.

The shadow grew stronger.

Eyes shoot open, body stiff as there's a sudden disruption with his circadium rhythm. Though he didn't really need to sleep, did he? Paper and ink stuck to his cheek and Phantom seemed to slowly start to acknowledge the aching crick in his neck, the staticky numbness in one of his legs and usual numbness in the other. He lifts his head, grimacing. A tan hand gingerly peels the parchment off of his skin before crinkling it with a scowl. The ink was smeared. It was ruined.

Son of a-

"Wake up sleepy head," a voice slowly drawls out, "you gonna sleep all day?" Zach was lazily sprawled out on one of the plush crimson chairs.

Sitting incorrectly of course with one of his legs dangling off of the arm while the other was close to his chest, and his body was twisted in a way that looked uncomfortable. That was just how he was, Phantom almost fondly recalls. Then the younger man's words hit him. The demonic thoughtform narrows his eyes.

"I have not a single idea on what you mean, dear," he retorts, dusting himself off in disgust as if he was caught doing something rather distasteful. "Shouldn't you be working?" A long sigh escapes Zach's lips, following with a roll of his eyes.

"The place isn't even open?"

"Shouldn't you be working," he iterates warningly, voice low. There's a sigh.

"Whatever you say, sir . . "

Phantom pinches the bridge of his nose as he rubs his temple, an itch right between his shoulder blades burning. He better not have another migraine or so help him . . . His hand begins to reach down to massage his extra sore leg, his chronic pain flaring up in his left. The part time magician and full-time servant crosses his arms as he's waved off by the particularly demonic entity.

"I advise you to leave me to my own devices, my dear, or you might not like what happens to your precious skin cleanser when you're not looking."

"Oh, you wouldn't dare, you motherFUCKER!" Zach responds with, leaning foreward as he narrows his eyes, quickly losing his temper. This gets a satisfying reaction from Phantom as the corner of his mouth upturns, dryly smirking. He could always get a rise out of the human. How peculiar it was that humans could so attached to such insignificant items.

"Don't tempt me, darling. I know where you hide all of your precious things that you have aquired a certain liking to. I own you, lest you forget," Phantom says smoothly as he lean back in his chair, carefully inspecting his cane that had a glass ball between its wooden grasp. It had intricate carvings and meticulous details engraved into the stained cherry wood that gave it a dark reddish, almost black finish. Made in Tokyo, Japan.

Zach traces the seems of the chair mindlessly, certainly fidgeting. He then slowly but surely untangles his legs and gets up relunctantly. With a hand on the door knob he pauses.

"Farewell, your bitchless majesty." The magician leans down to a dramatic bow and then raises his hand to wave, voice dripping with clear sarcasm. When Phantom scowls with a roll of his eyes, he finally leaves with a click of the door. The conman presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth, letting out a frustrated sigh.

Finally a moment of peace to collect his thoughts . . . Fingertips akin to charcoal grasp the fountain pen laying across his pristinely organized desk. How Interesting . . Not a drop of ink on it as if it had been washed before it could stain. Not that he was forlorn about it, but when did he have time to clean it? . . . Oh?

A cruel, evil smirk slowly plasters onto his face as he glances up at the door where the human had just been, realization settling in his stomach. There's much to think about that later.

The thoughtform stands up, gripping the cane in his right hand to distribute the weight to both of his legs instead of favoring his right.

And then there was the itch again, unbearable as ever like molten lava pouring down his back. He bites his lip. Pulling up his sleeve, razor sharp, black, clawlike fingertips lacerates his cadaverous skin to ignore the itch between his shoulder blades.

Red misty smoke billows from the flesh wounds, a low crackling sizzle echoing in the room that was too frigid to be comfortable for humans. A stark contrast to the heat and humidity in the rest of the club.

Phantom let's out a low groan, hissing as the firey embers swallow him whole, clouding nonexistent lungs. He wheezes. He was hunched over as raw flesh is split open like a cocoon while claws are piercing meat and bone.

He hated this. He hated, hated, HATED THIS. The disgust manifesting inside him, churning in his gut agonizingly. He was so pathetic. Manic laughter bubbles out from the demon's lips. Eyes were like pin pricks. Pupils pure white, scleras black, and blood vessels visible. He was fucking INSANE.

INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE INSANE

I N S A N E .

RING . . . RING . . . RING

Nate sits up in a spur, panting as he clutches his chest. He turns his head towards the shadow in the corner of the door. An unsettling face staring at him in the dark. Something that looked like it was pretending to be human. It's eyes looked dead, cheeks hallowed and sunken in.

It looked like a paralysis demon that he conjured up in the night in his head. Except he was awake. And could move. It came forth, it's features settling into something not as disturbing but still had the uncanny feel to it. It's unnaturally charcoal colored hands that faded into tan skin up its arms grasp Nate's wrist tentatively.

"Him?" Nate shakes his head, rubbing the side of his throbbing temple. Why did it feel like his heart was gonna burst out of his chest? Like it was gonna explode and puss and blood would splatter out.

"No," he groans quietly. "It's nothing."

Now that he was thinking of it, what was he even dreaming about . . ? Nate internally shrugs. He'll be fine.

It couldn't have been THAT bad.

@wouldntyou-liketoknow @th3w00ds @colourfulmes