#Nightguard Mark

[cloudysarts]

"A job without haunted animatronics or chainsaw maniacs? Sounds boring."

"Well, I heard Freddy's is opening a sister location, if you wanna transfer..."

today i will continue the trend of redrawing this piece i originally made in 2018 every time something big happens related to fnaf!!! last time was the release of security breach :) and once again i am forcing you all to look at my Five Nights at Freddy's The Musical Sister Location AU, which you can read more about here, if youre one of the 3 people who would be interested in that :) If you're not, thats okay too :P

pretty sure a new fnaftm is coming out sometime soon-ish.......i love feeding my 11 year old self. i still unironically enjoy this more than actual fnaf sometimes

(original (+ added lore/au explanation))

(original redraw)

#Five Nights at Freddy's #Five Nights at Freddy's The Musical #fnaf musical #fnaf the musical #random encounters #Markiplier #Natewantstobattle #Nightguard Mark #Nightguard Nate #fnaf sister location #fnafsl #fnaftm #fnaftmsl #fnaftmslau #Circus Baby #Ballora #Funtime Foxy #Funtime Freddy #Bonbon #Lizzie Afton #Lizzy Afton #Elizabeth Afton #my nightguard mark design now has a gay little earring. thank you unus annus for giving us pierced ear markiplier #i dont have much more to say about this bc its so silly and niche but this au has been with me for so long and makes me so happy :) #in fact the 'original' im linking is from 2019! the og is a year older i just never posted it and wont now cause it sucks #once my bf pointed out that mark and nate are slowly growing closer over the years and i almost cried bc thats so sweet #nate turn around you fucking idiot mark is about to get murdered. hes been trying to get your attention since 2018

[annie-quill]

Tfw neither you or your kids can sleep until 6 am so you have to entertain them somehow 🥺❤

Edit: Added a version without the shadows as recommended !! 💖

#my art #markiplier #digital art #FNaF the Musical #random encounters #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #Five Nights at Freddy's the Musical #the nightguard #Nightguard Mark #Mark Schmidt #freddy fazbear #bonnie the bunny #chica the chicken #foxy the pirate #pills tw #just for safety #tumblr PLEASE dont ruin the quality of this i spent 12 HOURS ON IT- #anywayd i remembered my love for these characters and this series so they snuggly- papa bear and his cubs (chicks buns kits whatever!!!) #i put so much detail into this please be kIND #procreate

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

I'd Like to Adopt These Side Characters, Please (And Also Make One Arbitrarily To Appease The Vibes)

So, I've already mentioned my plans to write something for our dear single-minute-of-screentime-boys from the FNAF movie. And, as per usual for me, posting some headcanons will help the ideas flow for that WIP. . .

___

Jack Samar

His passengers always are, in fact, "the weirdos." It just seems to happen without fail. College partygoers crashing down from adrenaline (among other things) highs, random drifters that could all probably be in the same cult if you pay attention to detail, that one guy who's all too happy to take advantage of the open secret that the ducks in the park are free. . .Most of the time, it's nothing too serious. But he's still got some very interesting stories here and there.

He's one of the best drivers in town. And that's not just due to his job as a cabbie; he knows how dangerous driving can be, so he takes pride in making sure his skills are sharp. (Seriously, if you've ever driven a car, then you know it's practically a miracle to see someone else on the road who actually knows what they're doing.)

He has a steel-trap memory; he knows every part of town like the back of his hand. Constantly driving on various routes just has that effect on you.

He's a bit of a rescuer. As in, if he happens to see a stray animal while driving, then he'll park, coax said animal into the car, and then drop it off at at the local shelter. If you have him drive you from Point A to Point B, there's a good chance you'll spot a scruffy-looking cat or dog riding shotgun.

If he isn't too tired at the end of his shifts, he'll drive over to Sparky's for a late-night snack before heading home to rest. Both he and Ness are good listeners, so a decent chunk their banter is dedicated to venting about sucky patrons.

He's certainly aware of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzaria, as well as the rumors surrounding it, but he never really bothered with the place. And he doesn't plan to start bothering with it after seeing Golden Freddy in the back of his taxi.

Although. . .well, that occurrence might have made him start weighing the pros and cons of trying to get more information out of Mason. (He's very much hesitant about it, of course. Yeah, he was the one to help Mason out, but the assumption of Mason's experience with Freddy's is still far from pleasant.)

(Yes, his name is a pun inspired by Cory's samurai joke. What did you expect from me?)

___

Ness Aeoruhndbt-Ultendera

"Ness" is only his nickname, but he doesn't plan on revealing his full name anytime soon. Not even to his friends, for whatever reason. There's also a bit of an inside joke about how his surname is too long to actually fit on his nametag. (Yes, that gibberish my personal idea for his surname. I spent way more time working on it than I probably should have because I was determined to make a weird/funny reference, so leave me alone, okay?!)

He's been in the restaurant business ever since he was a kid; he's worked in several different joints before Sparky's. Coming from a family of foodies, he truly enjoys what he does, no matter how small-scale. Sure, some days are worse than others, but that's just life.

Similarly to Jack, it's not that uncommon for him to serve some strange characters. (Hell, sometimes the strange characters in question will wave down Jack's cab right after they've finished their meal at Sparky's.) Nothing usually comes of it, but he's still more than observant enough to pick up on certain oddities.

He makes a genuine effort to be polite and outgoing with customers. But make no mistake, he absolutely can, has, and will verbally curb-stomp someone if they push him or his coworkers too far. (Aunt Jane was lucky that her jab was minor. Plus, Ness just had other customers to focus on.)

It's no surprise that he LOVES conspiracy theories. Now, he knows which crackpot rabbit-holes to avoid, but he's still the type to listen to true crime podcasts almost religiously. In a way, researching and brainstorming is a comfort to him.

He's actually developed legitimate friendships with a specific few of Sparky's regulars. (Jack and Mason are part of this camp.) In fact, if there aren't many other customers that need tending to, he'll sit down and chat with them while they eat.

While he's perky during the day, he's still a night owl. It helps that his regular-friends almost always stop by in the late hours. (This has also paved the way for him to become a bit of a coffee-addict, but not to the point of concern. Speaking of which: he takes great joy in people's reactions to his argument that coffee is actually a type of soup.)

Oh, and that rubber-chicken-head-pencil-topper? Its name is Fabio, and Ness has been carrying it for several years now. He can't remember where/when/how he came into possession of Fabio, but you can pry it from his cold, dead hands.

___

Mason Kingsley

I wasn't originally planning to make a technical fanego for the FNAF movie. But after I learned that Mark was intended to make a cameo, I was intrigued. Thus, Mason—aka Trauma Boi—was born. His inclusion here (and in that future story I mentioned) is basically just a "What if?" scenario. As in, A. What if Mark had actually played the role of that first nightguard in the movie, and B. what if he'd actually survived his ordeal at Freddy's. . .?

Please read "survived," as "escaped by the skin of his teeth with grievous injuries and is now sort of dead inside."

Fittingly enough, Jack happened to by passing by when Mason fled the restaurant. It's pretty damn easy to stop for a guy who's covered in blood and cradling a broken arm and screaming for help.

After Jack drove Mason to the hospital, the two of them made an effort to stay in touch. Their respective patronage to Sparky's helps out with that.

Time passed, as it tends to do, and Mason eventually recovered. Keep in mind that the recovery was physical; he's still having night-terrors about animatronic monsters. Just the mention of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzaria will make him start shaking and murmuring under his breath, pale and tense.

He absolutely refuses to talk about the incident in detail, but it left some very obvious scars on his neck, chest, and arms. He's constantly trying to keep said scars covered.

Silver lining: shortly after recovering, Mason was able to adopt a therapy pet. Enter Checkers, a golden retriever who's just the best emotionally-tuned girl and is always by his side.

He stops by Sparky's for dinner once or twice per week. He wasn't too receptive to Ness' chitchat at first, but by now they have a solid friendship. (It started when Ness "accidentally" brought out a large side of bacon with Mason's order. Checkers most certainly appreciated that, so it's become a small tradition between them.)

(And just to clarify, because I KNOW someone is gonna read this and take it the wrong way: I'm NOT using this to try and whine about Mark's absence in the movie. It's really not too hard to understand that his own Iron Lung project has kept him INCREDIBLY BUSY. It's an amazing accomplishment for him, so of course it should take priority over a cameo in FNAF.)

___

@sammys-magical-au @that-bat @bee-the-matpat-simp @insane4fandoms

#fnaf movie #fnaf movie spoliers #jack samar #cabbie!cory/jack #coryxkenshin #kenshin egos #cory williams #ness the waiter #waiterpat/ness #matpat #matthew patrick #egopats #mason kingsley/nightguard!mark #mark's abandoned nightguard-cameo-character #markiplier #mark fischbach #fanmade egos #fan egos #(kind of?) #(technically?)

[cantfixyou]

been thinkin too much about that one quiz and the idea of charlie being in love without even knowing it and about charlie and mark god god god these two young adults, one getting wrapped up in the horrors by accident, one getting wrapped up in it by choice, and her choosing again and again and again to face those horrors with him, letting the horrors push them together until they're back-to-back in the dark ready to die, holding hands, in the softest and saddest way ready to die, thank yous and goodybes in the shadows as the proverbial funeral march plays, and living letting the horrors throw them in front of one another to serve as a shield, as a distraction, as a sacrifice, horrors evolving their dependency naturally into before you go i have to tell you and i know you do. me too, no kiss, no hug, just this look exchanged that says more than words ever could about how deeply, profoundly, irrevocably in love with one another they are before she blows the world to high heavens in an attempt to end the story

#viii. ( ooc. ) #( maybe one day i'll introduce you all to Mark The Nightguard™ ) #( he's a cute lil dude ) #( lmao ) #( maybe one day i'll also repost the story these two came from for y'all ) #( one day......................................................... )

[divas-night-guards]

Hi everyone!!! This is my blog for my au or retelling-ish of those 2015 nightguards!! Neat!!! Character rundown and rules bellow the drawing

Character rundown!!

Mike (the bald one)

Mike, the sarcastic, dry protagonist of the bunch, was hired a long while ago as a day shift security guard. He just now was promoted! Welcome to the night shift, Mike!!! Some background lore includes:

Mike was the bite victim of 83,

Mike has a wife (Doll)!

Just reminding you.

Doll (Mike’s wife)

Doll Schmidt, the loving wife of Mike Schmidt. Owns and works at her own little pastry shop up the street from Freddy fazbear’s! Doll occasionally visits to bring Mike and the rest of the gang pastries and snacks to make it through the night. Background lore includes:

Mike was a regular patron of the cafe for a long time and they started talking, years later they got married (awww)

Doll and Fritz are close friends! they both share an interest in cooking and food.

Fritz (glasses)

Fritz smith, the cheekiest of the gang! Applied for his love of animatronics and machinery, Fritz smith was hired for the night shift (being a college student, he wouldn’t be able to take the day shift.) Fritz is quite social, making friendship bracelets for almost everyone in the night shift, everyone except Vincent. Some additional facts:

Fritz is good at coding and mechanics, thus being able to fix the animatronics if there were any mechanical issues, Boss likes Fritz for this, due to it being much cheaper than hiring an actual mechanic. Cheap bastard.

Vincent (purple guy!)

Vincent Bishop, the head of the night guards! Everyone’s (not mine) favorite flamboyant purple and I mean REALLY purple guard! Known for making everyone in the office just a little uncomfortable (which is why you don’t get a friendship bracelet broh.) Vincent loves posing his authority and eeriness to everyone, threatening the other night guards. And when he’s not doing that, he’s being a deranged psychopath with a trigger-happy aura.

He loves toast <3

He’s DEATHLY and irrationally afraid of needles

BOSS (cigar dude)

Our noir, New Jersey accented cheap money-grubbing RECENTLY DIVORCED- (ahem) boss man is…yeah. Just a boss. A cheap boss man. Yup.

Recently divorced

Favorite activity is blowing cigar smoke in his subordinates faces

Used to be a detective

Flirts with doll (“hey bbg I’m so much better than Mike” Headass)

Phone guy (self explanatory)

Security guard that works both day and night shifts, in charge of handling phone calls, etc. super nice with a heart of gold and an amazing hard-working team player persona. Vincent often flirts with phone guy (or “Scott”), yet Scott is very, very uninterested.

Likes drinking tea more than coffee

Has black hair, the phone is just a hat thing that he wears because he doesn’t like doing his hair. And it’s fun looking

Jeremy (question mark)

Jeremy fitzgerald, the newest hire of the night watch. Jeremy is often shy and timid when it comes to socializing, and unfortunately isn’t the best at his job. but with the help from his peers (hopefully) he’ll have nothing to worry about!

Friends with Fritz, who really tries to get him out of his comfort zone a bit

Vincent tries to scare him by jumping at him when he’s walking down hallways, pranking him, etc. because it’s “funny”

Kind of a people pleaser, often changing his opinion for others out of fear <\3

Self conscious about his stutter (💔)

RULES!!!

Have fun bro 💖

There are no real rules LMAO, just have lots of fun, be as “cringe” as you want, go ahead!!!!!! :D

Oh nvm nothing offensive

Yeah don’t be a jerk and have fun!!!!! Byeeeee🗣️🔥

#ask blog #fnaf #fnaf au #asks open #send me asks #five nights at freddy's #rebornica #mike schmidt #vincent bishop #doll schmidt #fritz smith #phone guy #boss #jeremy fitzgerald

[dogboyjackkennedy]

so, because i'm considering making a comic about The Prologue of Dsaf (basically, everything that happened pre-Dsaf 1, as well as maybe a little bit into the beginning of Dsaf 1), at least my headcanons for it, i thought i'd just list a few in text form, 'cause some of them might not be too clear whenever i get this comic made:

Dee's hair is darker than Jack's, and Peter's is darker than Dee. all of their hair colors are a different shade of red/ginger.

Peter moved out of Jack and Dee's house when he got engaged to Caroline.

Dee is quite literally just as chaotic as Jack is. makes sense, given he was the one she was around the most.

Jack told Dee that if anyone was being a dick to her (or was, in any way, trying to seriously hurt her), she could just bite them. maybe also scratch them like a cat. yes, Jack did (and still does, kinda) bite people. why do you think he taught her how to do that?

so, i've mentioned a couple of times how Jack is a trans man. he had a nickname, "Jackie," which was uh. a shortened version of his deadname. technically, he was only fully comfortable with Dee, Peter, and Caroline calling him that, but he didn't really protest when his employers/coworkers would call him that, and would even encourage them to do so, because, in his eyes, it's better than being referred to by his deadname.

Jack got a job at Fredbear's as a technician and nightguard when Peter moved out, a few months before Dee's murder.

Henry was actually the first employer of Jack's who both actually called him "Jack" and referred to him as a guy. Jack, at the time, viewed this as a good sign that this job would work out perfectly fine.

Jack and Dave actually talked a few times and would ""jokingly"" flirt with each other. this may or may not have also been the thing that got both of them to realize that they aren't straight.

Jack actually bought Dee a small stuffed kitten as a birthday present, a little red bow wrapped around its neck. nowadays, he uses it as a reminder of who he's doing all of this for.

Dee understood that Jack and Peter had to work so much to support her, but it still made her sad :(

neither Jack nor Peter were going to be able to be with Dee for her birthday due to work, so they both decided to schedule a birthday party for her at Fredbear's, so that she could still have a good day :]

Jack dropped her off, promised he'd be back at around six, and that they could even have a little birthday celebration at home that night before Jack had to leave for work. he'd even bring chocolate cupcakes, her favorite! he kisses her head, tells her goodbye, and then leaves. i believe we all know the rest from there.

Jack, on the night he died, wanted to check the cameras to see if there was any footage of Dee or the other children before they went missing. sure enough, there was.

also that night, before Jack went to do his job, he noticed a visible bite mark, as well as scratches, on Henry's arm. upon pointing it out, Henry tried lying and claiming that he just simply got attacked by a dog. Jack, a dog owner himself, told Henry he didn't believe him; he knows what a dog bite looks like, after all.

(looks like Dee took his advice, doesn't it?)

look, when i say that The Real Fredbear assigned Jack to be a partial dogboy, i'm not joking. he's got dog teeth now, he can literally make dog sounds (may or may not be based off of the Confusing Ending for Dsaf 2), he's got paw pads (kinda), he has claws. like, he might not have ears or a tail, but trust me: he's kinda sorta part dog now.

Henry: "So you see, William, I have the guy right here-" (suit is incredibly fucking empty, almost like nothing was ever in there to begin with) Henry: "..." William: "So...where's he at? Did you move 'im-?" Henry: "Fuck."

Peter blames Jack in the sense of "Why weren't you there to protect her?" the only reason Peter didn't let Jack stay with him was because he knew the police would be looking for him.

Jack scratched the word "LIAR" into Henry's car, and smashed the glass.

Peter may or may not have sued to clear his brother's name. and he did it by using the undeniable evidence of: JACK'S LITERAL BOSS SAYING THAT HE WAS WORKING THAT DAY AND COULDN'T HAVE COMMITTED THE MURDER. SERIOUSLY, HE SAW THE GUY WORKING NONSTOP ALL DAY HOW THE ACTUAL FUCK WOULD HE HAVE SOMEHOW SLIPPED AWAY TO COMMIT AN ACTUAL MURDER-

Peter began to suspect that Henry was hiding something. he got a job at a Freddy's location to get close enough to Henry to get the man to spill the beans. unfortunately, he died before that could happen.

however, what he witnessed on the day of his death...it did make him realize that Henry wasn't just hiding something: he was the motherfucker that killed Dee and tried to frame his brother.

Peter died having finally learned the truth...and then immediately had his memory wiped-

Jack and Henry nearly crossed paths several times. it's lucky for Henry that they never did, though; because Jack wanted to rip that fucker apart himself, consequences be damned.

i already have. another post talking about Blackjack specifically. go see that for details.

pretty much all of the Kennedy siblings after they died: FUCK Henry, all of my homies HATE Henry!!

that's about it for now. this is all stuff PRE-Dsaf 1. who knows when i'll get the beginning of the comic finished, but i'll try and work on it later. enjoy the headcanons in the meantime. :]

#dsaf #jack kennedy #peter kennedy #dee kennedy #dsaf dave #dsaf henry #not au related

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi! Could i get Nightguard/fnaf musical Mark begrudgingly befriending a ghost!reader? Maybe they were one of Madpat's victims and the whole musical they tried to convince Mark the animatronics weren't bad (until Nate proved it) & then just hung out with him afterwards, or they died in a freak accident near him & decided to haunt him for shits & giggles (but actually looks out for him when he gets in real danger, line possessing a mugger and making them run away or something)?

You were the pizzeria’s last guard before Mark, haunting it ever since you died to that chainsaw-wielding maniac in a bear suit who didn’t expect you to survive all five nights.

While you couldn’t move on, you made great friends with Freddy’s band and the Puppet so it wasn’t all too bad.

When Mark takes over the nightshift, you worry that his fate will be similar, so you keep watch and see how he handles things.

And he does very very poorly as he screams his head off at everything and anything, having a panic attack over the course of 6 hours.

Tbh seeing this grown ass man sobbing was a little amusing, as you knew the animatronics were harmless and just wanted to make him feel welcomed.

But you appeared to him as a semi-corporeal ghost to help calm him down.

Though realizing you’re not a living person freaks him out further, and you began thinking he had an irrational fear of the paranormal.

Then the power goes out and he’s cowering in the darkness until AJ “saves” him and the animatronics leave.

You figured Mark wouldn’t come back here again.

But he does and he’s armed with weapons????? And tape?????

Is he /j or /srs

"With all due respect, Mr. Iplier, why the hell would you bring a glock to a kid’s pizzeria?!!!!”

“There’s no kids here.” He rolls his eyes, not panicking when you appear to him again as he pumps a shotgun. “Now are you with me or those evil machines?!”

“..evil?! They’re children for god’s sake!!”

“They’re evil animal robots and they’re out for my blood! Just get out of my way or else!!”

“Or what? You'll shoot me? You can’t kill a ghost.”

“Oh, I bet--FOXY!! I SEE YOU!! COME GET A BITE!!!"

He shoots through you as the door opens, only to see the janitor’s body fall to the ground.

“..you’re not Foxy.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He gets arrested, and you’re convinced that’s the last time you’ll ever see him.

On Night 3, Nate replaces him. Fortunately you get along better with him (remarking he’s got a nice singing voice) and protect him from Springtrap by possessing the Endo-01 backstage.

Then you, him, and Freddy’s band travel to Mark’s house, where it’s revealed he escaped the cops and dyed his hair red.

Again, he freaks out seeing the animatronics, but only slightly calms down when you’re there, trying to defuse the situation.

When Nate talks about what happened at the pizzeria (and you sing a small verse about your demise), Mark begrudgingly accepts you as his friend and agrees to go back with you.

After everything’s over and your killer supposedly burned alive in the pizzeria, you still hang out with Mark as a simple ghost, finding no need for an endoskeleton vessel. 

You still like to tease him for being so scared on the first night, but he just scoffs like “nah I was only acting panicky so you’d lower your guard!”

“Yeah, sure..you’re sooooooo tough.”

“Thanks--wait, is that sarcasm??”

#fnaf musical mark lives rent free in my heart 💖 #clanask #anonymous #fnaf x reader #fnaf the musical x reader #markiplier x reader #natewantstobattle x reader #ghost reader #platonic #fnaf guard mark x reader #headcanons

[honeys-clangen]

FNAFClan - Moon Twenty-Four

Greenleaf

Endotail has been looking forward to moons of rest as an elder. They happily retire, quickly and comfortably settling into their new den. 

Bonniescar gives Springpaw a friendly nudge as they are called forward to be made a warrior. They watch, chest puffed out in pride, as they are named Springtrap and honored for their skill. Bonniescar considers themself lucky to have been able to train such a young cat, and looks forward to seeing the warrior they come. 

Nightguard proudly watches as Cryingpaw is summoned before Freddy Quickbear, and cheers as they are named Cryingkitten. They make sure to congratulate them personally after, and say that they can’t wait to see them in action. However timid Cryingkitten is, Nightguard’s encouragement fills them with excitement. 

Marionettefang has no doubts in their mind about who their next apprentice will be. Plushkit had always looked for an excuse to be in the healer’s den, and bombarded her with questions about the herbs, what each one is and its uses. As Marionettefang announces that the newly named Plushpaw will be their apprentice, they see Plushpaw’s eyes shining in delight and know they have made the correct choice. 

Plushpaw was given juniper by Gildedbear in celebration!

Fritz watches in pride as Manglepaw is named and given Foxthrift to apprentice under. They know Foxthrift was a good choice. 

Freddy Quickbear has been following Rory’s progress for a couple moons, and feels that it is finally time for them to be made a warrior. Rory chooses to keep their name as is, but is welcomed as a warrior nonetheless. 

Freddy Quickbear makes Pumpkinpaw a warrior and names her Pumpkinburn. 

Bunnysong has gotten heat exhaustion.

Freddy Quickbear is moved to the medicine den, concerned that their running nose seems to have developed into Whitecough.

Endotail has recovered from their sprain. 

Balloonpaw’s bee sting is feeling all better.

Scarypaw’s stomach ache has abated.

Phone Dude’s bite wound has healed, but he will forever be marked by a scar. 

Nightguard and Springtrap were both spotted, at different times, talking to a loner. 

Patrols:

One - In training, Scarypaw isnt acting quite like themself. Shinyrabbit asks whats wrong and Scarypaw reveals their dreams are filled with shadows and... images. Shinyrabbit brushes it off.

Two - Balloonpaw gets injured while fending off a dog.

Three - Bonniescar, Cryingkitten, and Pumpkinburn tell each other ghost stories while out hunting.

#clangen #warrior cats clangen #fnafclan #five nights at freddy's

[theknightmarket]

I did a tier list of the Markiplier Egos, so I thought I’d share it here – and, yes, perhaps some of these ratings indicate who I like to write, sue me. So, bottom to top, here it is:

Actor: Super Hell

         I goddamn hate Actor, as you could probably figure out. He’s a prissy bitch, who deserved everything that came to him. Okay, that might’ve been a bit of an exaggeration, but Jesus Christ do I hate him, mainly for causing Damien’s death, plus everything else, but mainly that. He deserves less than Super Hell, but that is the bottom of the barrel.

E-Boy Mark: F

         Reminded me too much of my boy Bing, and I did Not like it. Plus, I have the same tiger pattern on one of my jackets, and I did not want to be associated with this E-Boy. So, F tier.

Ed Edgar: F

         I hate babies. Simple as that. Props for being a cowboy aesthetic, but that mustache knocked him back down into F tier.

Derek Derekson: F

         Need I say anything? He’s abusive and a bitch, and I care too much about my baby Eric to put him any higher. I would put him lower, but Super Hell is reserved for Actor. F.

Silver Shephard: E

         I haven’t seen anything about him, except for the skit with all the other egos, in which I also did not see much. Cool costume, but no clue. E.

Dr. Iplier: E

         Again, not much. To be honest, both of the Egos in the E tier are ones I haven’t seen much of but know about. Hence, the doctor is here. Nice catchphrase, E tier.

Yandereiplier: D

         The animation is cool, I’ve always liked horror-blood elements, and the pictures of Yandere have the red hair, which I am a fan of. However, the game itself is a point down, and he is only for the sim, so D tier.

King of the Squirrels: D

         A classic start to the Ego train, so points given, but points taken away because I am not a huge fan of peanut butter. Squirrels I love, though, so again. Hence, D tier.

Bill: C

         Okay, so I haven’t seen the video he comes from actually, but I did see one clip of him saying ‘Oh, honey, no’ and, boy, did I feel flustered, and I don’t even know why! It was just weirdly sweet and reflects the kinda stuff you see in my S tiered Egos. But, alas, he’s not all that common in videos, so C.

Bim Trimmer: C

         I don’t know either, man, he’s just a funny guy. The image I have for him is so stupid, and he’s Bim Trimmer??? C’mon. C tier.

The Colonel: C

         Being separate from Wilford, he’s kinda lacking in substance compared to him, but I get it. Cuckolded a dude, which isn’t a great start, but it’s Actor, so I don’t care. Says ‘bully’, which is fun, but he does kill the viewer, so points off for him, putting him in C.

Google(s): C

         Might be influenced by my having a fic in the works for him, but I am also a sucker for AI, android stuff. Plus, the fanart I see for him is always cute. Him being rude to Bing takes him down a notch, though, so C.

Heehoo: C

         The concept of this guy is so funny to me – like, Jesus Christ, the Markiplier runs into the wild, completely naked, save for maybe shoes, of all things, and is fine??? The long hair pushes it over D, but the lack of a voice keeps him in C.

The Nightguard: C

         It’s mainly for the musical itself, and that one moment when he leans in and says ‘I killed a guy’ because obviously. Not to mention it’s Mark singing. However, this one can be excluded from being an ego because it is basing off of a pre-established character. So, C tier.

Captain Magnum: C

         I haven’t gone through his ending yet in AHWM (sue me, I got Yancy first), but I do love pirates ;) but I don’t love beards. Personal preference, it just takes away from the face. Basically, the aesthetic alone brings it into C tier.

Annus: B

         Now, I did watch, uh, [redacted] – catch my favorite video being the A.I generated basically fanfictions – and I loved the whole concept of it! The ending, especially during covid, kinda helped me get used to death and the idea of having to die in the end. However, some of this does not extend to the ego of Annus. I feel like there was a lot more they could have done with both Annus and Unus, but I understand that most of the audience would not have wanted it to be fully cryptid and ARG-esque, so B is both the lowest and highest I can go with him. I do love suits, though. 

Eric Derekson: B

         I have seen next to nothing about this boy! And I love him :D! He’s just so cute in everything I’ve seen and read. Solid B tier for the cute side, anyway. 

The Jims: B

         Honestly, it’s a goof ego, and I like that. The stupid movements and the little side bit about WKM made me happy after the sad events, and I saw them in Space, so I’m happy to put them at B, as a collective, of course.

Monster Gulch Mark: B

         I’m a sucker for apocalypses, man. The casual murder plot caught my eye, and then the second song was a banger, too. I was super disappointed when nothing ever came out from Monster Gulch again, and I appreciate the running water thing, if you know what I mean by that. So, for both Mark in this and the musical in general, B tier.

God of Night: B

         Dope aesthetic and I am a sucker for deity-stuff. However, I do not have the attention span to watch a 3+ hour video where he is not in all of it, and was, maybe, recorded without a hard script? I don’t know, but I know I should watch it considering I have a fic queued for him. Cool concept, but I can’t watch so much of that in one go. B tier.

Noir: A

         You remember that I said I love suits, right? Well, this guy, in a disheveled suit, the noir aesthetic – one that I loved since I saw Into the Spider-Verse – and the voice over??? A tier, and I will take no comments. Also, there’s something to be said about how the lower tiers tend to have the cocky-know-it-all egos, and the higher tiers are soft guys. This, the A tier, is a weird exception.

Murdock: A

         No. 1, the murder – no. 2, the vibe – no. 3, the outfit! The moment I saw Murdock, I had to put the screen down and go for a walk. You’ve seen this man, you understand what I mean. A tier, for everything he’s involved in.

Dark: A

         This is probably lower than a lot of people would put him, and I’m still debating putting him higher, but A tier is the least I will go. Again, there’s the suit, plus, I’m a fan of the glitchy, multi-emotion thing he has going on. However, as many of you will remember, he did shove the viewer into a mirror and steal their body. Not great on his part, but he is against Actor, and the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Hence, A tier, plus he does stage himself sexily on that desk, so…

Engineer: A

         This guy is plain cute. He’s devoted, he’s hard-working, he appreciates the aesthetics! He really should be in A+ tier, considering I have a sticker of him, too, except for one tiny snag. Actor. He is the source of all my trouble and complicates things in the theory sense. Is Engineer actually Actor? We don’t know, and I don’t like to think I would put anyone related to Actor in A+. So, sorry, my dear boy, he has to be in A tier.

Bing: A+

         If you’ve seen my other posts, you may already understand why he’s here, but I will reiterate for every who doesn’t know. I don’t know what it is, but the dumb, skateboarder-bro, with a heart of gold is a thing I love. The glasses are cool, the orange I adore, and an android? C’mon, I can’t put him anywhere but A+. (I also have a sticker of him on the laptop I am currently writing this on)

Host: A+

         I had to go searching for Host after the sketch with all of the egos in it, and, boy, was I overjoyed to find him. The blind-fold and narrator bit, and a couple of fics I’ve read influenced this decision. A+ tier, but it’s a controversial one. (Another that I have a sticker of)

Wilford: A+

         Yeah, this is just where he belongs. S tier is reserved for two egos here, and so Wilford is a banger in A+ tier. The whole fruity-bisexual-timelord thing is amazing, and, as far as character design goes, oof, the fluffy hair, slightly unbuttoned shirt? I am swooning. A+ tier. (Also, a sticker)

Illinois: A+

         This guy has two belts. What a dude. And the flirty thing I appreciate, the whip cracks, as well. Him walking backwards through a bunch of traps is pique douche, but in an oh-my-god-he’s-going-to-get-himself-killed-better-help-him kind of way. Like pulling a drowning dog out of a pool and them shaking off. A+.

Can you guys guess who’s at the top of this list? If you can’t, lemme tell you. 

Damien: S

         Damien is my comfort character, and that sucks because – spoilers – he is dead. I forgive him for shoving the viewer into a mirror, solely for his adorable personality and all of the fics people have for him prior to poker night. The ‘little monster’ nickname has me squealing every time I hear it, and I could fully write an essay on his character. Fuck Actor for killing him, and fuck anyone who doesn’t think he’s amazing. Solid S tier, no questions. 

Yancy: S

         Objectively the best character. He was my first ending in AHWM, I love his song, he applied for parole??? Look at that man, listen to him talk – the accent omg – and tell me, genuinely, that you would not do anything for him. Look me in the eyes and tell me that he isn’t the light of your life. ‘Free as a buird’ – gods, he’s adorable, and a sticker that I have on the inside of my laptop, to boot!

And that’s it! Feel free to reblog or send me an ask telling me your opinion, but know that I will fight you if you disagree on my S tiers :D

Have a good day everyone!

#Tier list #tier #markiplier #markiplier egos #theknightmarket #Yancy is the best #and I hate Actor

[rock-n-raceway]

Hello, Do you do 2014 fanon nightguard stuff? (such as Vincent who liked toast, Jeremy with a question mark on his face, etc.)

Yes! I ADORE the 2014 fanon nightguards!!!! I would be more than happy to take requests for them!

#mod roxy/roxx 🎸

[fantasticgothicpeachsludge]

Some fun Ideas I've come up with about the fnaf × DC AU over the past couple months because I have literally nothing better to do except think and walk my dog:

William hates like every other robot Maker in the DC universe with like a burning passion. He will actively complain to other villains who use Tech and critique everything about their designs-

I think William would have a freak out if he found out about the Lazarus pit...

Charlie's a lot like First appearance red hood .. She Straight up murders people.. Her only goal is to protect herself and the rest of the city and she believes that monsters like William deserve to die slow and painful..

I think Michael has a severe dislike of Harley Quinn- Like he doesn't interact with her often but whenever he does he either gives her the death stair or just walks out of the room.

Mike's stomach is his main weak point the rest of him is pretty much numb. Kiss better sight and hearing than he used to but his sense of touch is like terrible-

Mike's super hero name is Nightguard! He likes using flash bangs

I think William and Lex Luther fight but not like fist fighting just sending animatronics after mechs after animatronics (I want to watch them fight in hand to hand so bad I want to see William smushed like a pancake and Lex with bite and scratch marks I think the deadbeat dads should fight to the death)

Him and Ras would trade immortality potions or at least William would try to

CHARLIE NOOOOOOOOOOO THATS CASSIDYS JOB YOUR MY SWEET WHITE KNIGHT IN WEIRD PUPPET ARMOR NOOOOO

Okay so I’ve been thinking about fitting Joker Junior into this au (because it is my curse as a Tim Drake enjoyer) and that gives Mike so much more reason for his hatred of Harley

YES YES YES YES SCOOPING TRAUMA LASTING EFFECTS OF UNIMAGINABLE BODY HORROR YESYEYESYES

Sorry that’s just one of my favorite Michael headcanons (along with him having to use crutches because of the degradation of his muscles due to him ya know being a corpse)

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕NIGHTGAURD?!?!!!??:!/-&&.!,💕💕💕💕💕💕💕jsnajdj!!?!,!,,💕💕💕💕💕

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

#💕🍄​🧚🏻answers🧚🏻‍♀️🍄💕 #HOW DID I NEVER THINK OF NIGHTGAURD #THATS GOOD #AND SWEET #I LOVE HIM #fnaf/dc au

[krispyswips]

Familiarity

So how about that episode 7....For context, I wrote a scene in Chapter 1 of Stones where someone dies and this is loosely based on that universe. And then I make additional references to later chapters. And I am never going to emotionally recover from this.

Part 5 Summary: Ragnar is summoned to the forge.

Part 1 - A family reunion with Paz and the Armorer

Part 2 - Some ghosts and pog soup

Part 3 - This magic kind of water

Part 4 - Grogu's no good terrible week and Ragnar's best day ever

Din wondered if that at some point he looked that small. Short, with gangly limbs, and a helmet that he was threatening to outgrow already. He wondered if all those years ago he too looked scared and sad coming into the forge.

The Armorer and him had discussed it for a long time before finally summoning the small boy to the forge. It was like watching the moving portrait of his past from the moment he stepped into the forge, to seeing a pile of armor neatly stacked in the center of the room, to the boy slumping to his knees and weeping. He wondered if the Armorer had reacted the same way watching a nephew, not quite a nephew lose their father.

There was something inside of Din watching these events repeat, his chest clenched. Something inside of him so desperately wanted take away this curse from the crying boy. But death, loss, grief, those were things that even today still haunted him. So Din did the best thing he knew. The only thing he knew.

He knelt by his side pulling Ragnar into his lap. He furiously clung to Paz’s helmet shaking his head fighting Din’s grasp but immediately melted into the comfort when Din’s arms wrapped around him.

Din found himself repeating the same words, the same wish that Nare had given him from her sister. He looked up to the Armorer and from the other end of the room, she nodded.

“Take comfort in knowing he wanted nothing more than to keep you safe.” He started.

With shaking hands Din rubbed the top of the young boy’s helmet. “He inspired many great warriors. He saved us all and Kad Ha’rangir surely shone down on him.” In front of him the Armorer stepped forward taking what was left of Paz’s pauldron. She quietly murmured this is the way as the name of the old god rolled off his tongue.

Still the boy wailed and clung tighter to Din, and Din felt his throat tighten up, his own tears stinging his eyes. He swallowed, “Our armor, your father’s armor, one day your armor are all pieces of the same earth.”

The Armorer watched the forge with stoic eyes and Din could not help but notice her shoulders shake as the mark of the Vizsla clan disappeared into a molten sheen.

“We invite you here because we do not waste. Everyone ounce of beskar is precious, every person here is precious, and he will continue to protect you here,” Din tapped the very top of Ragnar’s helmet, “Vod, always believed that.”

Din wasn’t sure how much the boy understood between the weeping and the ragged breaths he would make. Every so often he would cough and continue to cry more, and through it all Din held him until they tapered off.

Soon Ragnar rolled over in Din’s lap to face the forge and together they sat in silence, piece by piece, to Mandalorian earth they all shall return.

--

The hills of Nevarro had changed since he was a boy. Still he knew the path well to climb the ledge of the canyon just enough until he could peer out into the city. Still this spot was hidden in darkness. Still the glow of the city was full of commotion. A celebration was being held, their last day on Nevarro until they returned home. This place was once a home where their covert lied. He had been up this ledge a hundred times before sneaking in the dark. But it no longer felt like home without the boisterous presence of Paz by his side. He would shush him. Tell him to keep his voice down or the nightguard was going to catch them again. He would argue about the next ship heading into atmo. That's a freighter Din would say and Paz would insist otherwise. Here atop this ledge they would dream together. Wish, want, and hope to see the stars. Countless times Paz would tell him how he wanted to go home back to Concordia, more than that to Mandalore. And silently, Din thought it would never come true. Now he sat atop the ledge with two glasses, finer liquor than the tastes of spotchka they would sneak from the kitchen. Now he was taller, strong, older; their dreams accomplished. And as Din watched the ships jet off into atmo, he supposed, that Paz had gotten what he wanted in the end. He was right after all the million times he was wrong and Din let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob at the thought. They were all going home.

#ragnar vizsla #din djarin #paz vizsla #the mandalorian spoilers

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Just Another Night at Sparky's

(Disclaimer: Ness/WaiterPat and Jack/Cabbie!Cory are not my creations. I gave Jack his name because he wasn't given one in the movie. Now, one of the characters you'll be seeing here technically belongs to me, but I don't really consider him a full fanego.)

(I was already planning to write for Ness and Jack, but after I learned how Mark was originally intended to play the role of that first security guard who died, I decided to adopt that abandoned character. Go here for headcanons and a more thorough explanation.)

(Certain plot-points in this story were inspired by @flawlessstriker and @insane4fandoms! These two are very talented artists, and I'm not sure I would've thought of such clever/funny easter eggs if I hadn't seen some of their own work, so please go check out their blogs and show them some love!)

(Trigger Warnings: food and drink, eating/drinking, implied trauma, mentions of past violence, mentions of blood, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.) 

In Ness’ personal experience, the people who dined at Sparky’s could be divided into three sections on a metaphorical pie chart. 

Twenty-four percent of customers were. . .just a little off. Not like that was necessarily a bad thing, mind you. Working in the restaurant business meant having to interact with lots of people each and every day. At some point, you’d learn to pick up on certain things that were odd in the way you couldn’t quite put your finger on (or, perhaps you just knew deep down that you didn’t want to). 

Ness strolled out of the kitchen and into the seating area, expertly balancing a tray on one hand. He approached a couple of bespectacled young women in one corner of the diner. 

Their visits to Sparky’s were a bit sporadic, but they never failed to claim that one booth in the corner that no-one else ever sat at no matter how crowded the joint was. The backpacks they always hauled along were positioned further up the booth’s seat cushions, half-open and nearly overspilling with various books. 

They always used indoor voices, but he could still pick up bits and pieces of their conversation whenever he was near. 

Tonight was no different:

“—he’ll be hungrier than usual,” murmured the one on the left, who boasted short, wavy hair that had been dyed a dark shade of violet. It complimented her shirt, which read ADOPT A FAMILIAR at the top. Pictures of creepy-looking critters were displayed beneath the message, orange-eyed and outlined by blue against the black fabric. “And he’ll need a live one this time.”

“Ooh,” replied the one on the right, who sported a yellow shirt with the screen-printed likeness of some obscure, spikey-haired cartoon character near the collar. A blonde ponytail spilled out from the back of her ball cap. “Who’s it gonna be? The lady whose eyes were found in that jar last month?”

“Nah, she’ll be in some psych ward. Too far-gone to keep on the playing board, y’know?” A sly grin etched its way across Urban Fantasy Nerd’s features. “I was actually wondering if you’d like to choose. Your guy is making the delivery, after all.”

“Ah, that’s right!” Cartoon-Fan snickered in a way that was just a teensy bit unhinged. “I can already see him slipping on some of the blood."

“Third time’s a charm?” Ness asked as he halted, carefully setting this duo’s Usual on the table. 

(Two milkshakes: one chocolate, the other strawberry. Yeah, it was kind of basic, but he wasn’t too much of a judgemental guy. Besides, Sparky’s shakes were a much safer option than the lilac-colored drinks that chicken shack around the corner had started selling. And Ness didn’t just carry that opinion because of his employment. During one of his typical night-walks, he’d passed an alley just in time to see said purple beverage oozing through said chicken shack’s windows. The strong, sugary smell wafting off it had reminded him of prion disease.)

The girls both paused. Though they smiled up at him and offered quiet “Thank-yous,” as they moved their respective, sticker-covered laptops out of the way, visible confusion mixed itself into their gratitude. 

“For the university’s creative writing contest, I mean,” Ness elaborated. “There were articles in the paper about the last two, and I saw your pictures in the list of winners. Congratulations, by the way.”

“. . .Oh,” Urban Fantasy Nerd answered, exchanging careful glances with her friend. “Yeah. Writing. Let’s go with that.”

“If anyone asks, we were also writing here two months ago,” Cartoon-Fan added with a conspiratory wink. “On Friday, between five-thirty and nine o’clock.” 

Ness chuckled, raising one hand to pull an invisible zipper over his lips. “You’ve got it. Enjoy.”

As he retraced his steps to organize some stuff behind the coffee counter, a little voice in the back of his theater-trained head wondered if the girls’ tones had been joking enough. Unlike many times before, he pushed that voice aside.

On one hand, missing person cases did always seem to pop up on the news channels a few days after the two students stopped by to enjoy milkshakes while typing away and occasionally turning the screens of their laptops toward one another. 

On the other hand. . .well, those cases were always located states and states away, typically near more seaside areas. None of them had been anywhere close to Utah. (Not yet, at least.)

Besides, even if those girls were somehow connected to more sinister things than their coursework, they were still very nice. Good tippers, too. Nowhere near the worst patrons Ness had served in his time.

The strange customers almost always seemed to come in pairs.

Like the duo of twenty-somethings from last week. One sported ginger hair and a She/They button pinned to their  jacket. The soot-stains on said jacket had been very obvious, as were the burn scars on their palms, but she’d still been a delight to make smalltalk with.

The other, a pale young man, had been much more quiet, but still friendly. He’d kept peering through the window at (what was presumably) his or his friend’s car, shakily fidgeting with the headphones around his neck, so it’d taken some time for Ness to realize that his eyes were just as reflective as mirrors.

(For the duration of their stay, the jukebox over by the counter had spat out songs that most certainly weren’t on its index cards. Fine, that might’ve caught Ness a bit off-guard at first, but he still knew to appreciate variety.)

Or the two men who’d come in a few months ago, wearing battered navy-blue bomber jackets and thousand-yard-stares. The one with a dyed-red fauxhawk had screamed and practically leapt out of his skin when Ness came over with menus and his usual greeting, but he’d apologized soon enough. After giving Ness a thorough look-over, that is.

His companion, a similarly dark-eyed man with a larynx that could only be found on seasoned musicians, had muttered, “Don’t mind him. We’ve just. . .had a bit of a rough trip.” His voice hadn’t been unkind, but he’d kept glancing at Ness whenever he thought he wasn’t looking. 

Well, perhaps that particular pair had broken the trend a bit. Because a few hours after they’d paid for their food and left, a lone traveler had come in.

His bloodshot eyes—which Ness could’ve sworn were orange instead of brown—had never stopped bulging, never stopped darting this way and that above his rictus of a smile. When he wasn’t speaking, he’d hum or murmur things with a shakiness that was typically found in rabid dogs.

He’d asked for way more coffee refills than could ever be considered healthy, as well as if Ness had seen anyone fitting the descriptions of Red-Haired-Screamer and Wary-Possible-Musician. Ness, following his instincts, had said no, to which the loner started simply shaking his head and grinning with a mouthful of teeth that looked a smidge too sharp.

Or the scruffy man who'd started coming in for breakfast every other week with his young sister in tow. He was living proof that you could recognize someone without officially knowing them. After all, it was pretty damn easy for Ness to remember almost making eye-contact with him, barely moving out of reach of his flashlight’s beam in time, and then having the seconds feel like hours as he watched him shake his head and mutter to himself about seeing things. 

It wasn’t like that’d been Ness’ first little midnight rendezvous around Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzaria. Just like how that particular man wasn’t the first security guard who’d gotten dangerously close to spotting him during his unofficial, self-driven investigations.

For the record, Ness knew that said investigations weren’t legal—especially not if you counted some of the things he’d. . .borrowed from the old animatronic jamboree restaurant—but he’d made his peace with that.

He hadn’t been sneaking around there to deal drugs or partake in any himself.

He wasn’t exactly chasing the adrenaline that always came with an evening full of ducking around corners and trying to ignore how loud his shoes sounded against linoleum floors when he rushed to find anything he could feasibly hide behind, underneath, or inside of.

He never meant any harm when it came to snooping.

It was just a simple case of having a little too much curiosity.

Thankfully, Security Guard #13 still had yet to show up at Ness’ place with some accompanying cops, so it seemed he didn’t recognize Ness as anything other than a humble waiter. (Or, if he did actually recognize Ness from that night, then he was miraculously chill enough to not bring it up and get him in trouble.)

The very first time they’d paid Sparky’s a visit, it would’ve been impossible to ignore the distinct smell that had been wafting off of Security Guard #13. It’d had a bite to it; like machine oil mixed with something much more. . .organic.

From that bleak look Ness had seen in his eyes, Security Guard #13 was most certainly NOT what anyone could call unbothered, but he was still polite. Plus, Kid Sister was the type who just deserved all the crayons in the world, what with the little masterpieces she’d decorated the paper menus with.

So, yeah. There was a genuine difference between oddball customers and customers that made you lose some of your faith in humanity. 

People who asked for trout to be blended into their yogurt parfait or for their donuts to be topped with slices of pickles that had gathered fuzz from their mysterious journeys at the back of the refrigerator were still easier to handle than people who threw temper tantrums because they didn’t get a refill in under thirty seconds. 

Back to the pie-chart—another forty-six percent of customers were perfectly decent and standard.

Plenty of the locals had a soft spot for this joint; Ness had lost count of all the times he’d been told that the pancakes served here were some of the best on planet Earth. Yeah, praise like that technically wasn’t directed at him, but the cooks were great people to work with, so it still made him happy to relay said praise to them. 

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t awkward for someone to confusedly ask if they’d already seen him working at the bar on the other side of town. Even so, that once-a-month occurrence always left him amused rather than annoyed. If anything, it attested to that particular customer’s observation skills. 

Sure, he and Sans were identical twins—the fact that their uncle had mixed them up on several different occasions when they were little was still a running joke in the family. But it’d been years since Sans had decided to remedy that via a skeleton face-mask and a dark blue leather jacket, and he’d made a habit to don both aforementioned garments each day ever since then. (Ness was still in partial disbelief that the manager at Grillby’s was cool enough to let Sans wear them over his uniform.)

Just as many of Sans’ customers apparently ended up mistaking him for Ness. Sans got a nice little kick out of that, of course. He hadn’t just been born with a comedic heart—it truly seemed every bone in his body was a funny one. Some people would argue that he just delivered puns upon more puns upon even more puns, but Ness knew his brother better than that. 

After all, Sans had been the one to train him to deal with the last category of customers: the thirty percent of entitled neanderthals who thought treating staff as less than human would somehow magically make their miserable lives more interesting. 

“Food work is all about balance,” Sans had explained sometime after he and Ness had grown tall enough to take plates and cups from a counter without having to stand on their tip-toes. “You’ve gotta be nice and still let people know that you won’t take their crap. If they’re civil, then you’re helpful. But if they’re rude. . .” Sans had paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “. . .then you have a little fun.” 

Ness had always been a pretty fast learner. It’d taken a week or so of practice, yeah, but with his twin’s help, he’d developed a tongue sharp enough to rival any butcher knife in the kitchen.

“You use a lot of big words for a waiter,” snorted a wannabe business bigshot with a wrinkled clip-on tie and a way, waaaaaay over-gelled hairdo that spoke volumes of desperation. 

Ness, who’d been explaining the differences between certain ingredients and flavor-enhancing chemicals because Hair Gel’s girlfriend had asked a fair question about the smoothies on the menu, barely batted an eyelid when he came back with, “And you smell a lot like hotdog water for someone who apparently doesn’t work with food.”

“This was the WORST thing I’ve ever put in my mouth!” Exclaimed a woman with an unidentifiable crust caked around the corners of her eyes and an ill-fitting shirt that was advertising some essential oil brand.

“I highly doubt that,” Ness mentioned, raising an eyebrow as he took the plate (which was suspiciously much emptier than when he’d first brought it out) from her table, “but whatever you say. . .”

“Oh! Thank you!” A tiny boy who couldn’t have been older than seven chirped, bouncing in his seat when Ness placed a sundae down in front of him.

Ness had been about to reply, but the boy’s mother—a lady who was trying very hard to look posh (but not succeeding very well due her asymmetrical haircut, as well as all the little green marks around the jewelry she was practically drowning in)—cut him off. 

“You don’t need to thank him, sweetheart,” she’d instructed, reaching across the table to corral her son. “That’s his job.”

That one had, admittedly, forced Ness to take a deep breath and appeal to his higher self for a few seconds.  Despite this, he’d still made sure to look that Karen dead in the eyes when he observed, “I’m not sure what your problem is, ma’am. But it must be hard for you to pronounce.”

(At least the boy didn’t seem to be too influenced; his bright eyes were nothing but apologetic when Ness came back with the check.)

The relative silence was shattered by the jingling call of that little bell suspended over the front entrance. Ness blinked, his train of thought screeching to a halt. He glanced over in the door’s direction, grinning at a familiar sight. 

Another regular; one that Ness got to have actual conversations with on nights like tonight. 

Mason glanced around at all the empty tables, brushing back his nearly shoulder-length raven hair and quickly getting the hint that he could just seat himself.

A golden retriever trotted beside him, connected to a leash in his hand via a pink vest that’d been fastened around her shoulders and belly. It was adorned by black velcro straps that read THERAPY DOG in a bold white font. The forest-green sherpa hoodie Mason always seemed to wear was only about half as fluffy as her fur.

Ness ducked into the kitchen. No more than three seconds had passed before the last cook on duty for tonight—a lanky blonde guy who was perhaps the most unapologetically flamboyant foodie you could ever have the honor of knowing—called, “Order Up! Your buddies’ Usuals, fresh from that babbling kiddie pool of oil.”

Dylan set a triad of dishes onto a waiting platter: the first held a stack of waffles (much like Sparky’s pancakes, their recipe was a secret that his very own grandmother had entrusted him with) and fried chicken tenders. The second supported a small mound of bacon. The third was adorned by a couple club sandwiches with a side of mozzarella sticks.  

“Thanks, man. Right on time,” Ness called back as he hefted the platter up, balancing it on the anterior region of his forearm like he'd been taught so long ago, and traipsed back out. The door swung to and fro behind him as he headed over to Booth Five. 

Though she wasn’t actually in the booth, Checkers was still right by her owner’s side, sitting in a way that could almost remind you of those lion statues guarding the entrance to a Chinese temple. She spotted Ness before Mason did. Her ears perked up, tail starting to wag. Her tongue lapped in and out of her mouth like a party favor as she smiled in that way only dogs could.

Mason, who’d been gazing through the window and fidgeting with his hoodie’s drawstrings, ever-so-slightly flinched as Ness began setting the plates down on the table with a chorus of small clunks. He blinked at the food, as if suddenly remembering the weekly tradition he’d made here.

“How do you always do that?” Mason asked as he turned his head toward Ness, a small smile etching its way across his features. 

“Magic,” Ness answered. “Careful, it’s hot.”

He carried the now empty tray back over to the counter. There, his hands became a blur as he snatched up the coffee pot and produced a trio of mugs. After stirring memorized amounts of cream and sugar into the fresh brew, he returned to the table, setting two of the beverages beside the plates.

Ness hovered, his own cup of smoldering caffeine in hand, and glanced around the restaurant. Aside from Mason and those two writers in the corner (who, as Ness had learned, took generous amounts of time with the shakes they always ordered), Sparky’s was empty tonight. 

With that in mind, Ness dragged a chair away from one of the other tables, positioning it at the end of the booth. Yeah, he could’ve just sat on the opposite side of Mason, but that part of the booth was typically reserved for another one of his friends.

Subtle relief washed over Ness’ knees as he took a seat; he’d been standing and walking pretty much all day.

Mason plucked a strip of bacon from one of the plates, checking to make sure that it was nice and warm without threatening to burn the palette. He then lightly tossed it over to Checkers, who snapped it out of the air almost like a frog catching flies. She lowered her head as the treat crunched between her teeth.

“How’ve things been?” Ness inquired, taking a sip of his coffee. “The theater’s gotten busy, yeah?”

Mason nodded as he took a fork and knife into his hands, cutting a piece off of one of the waffles and dipping it into the complimentary cup of syrup. “Yeah, it really has. Feels like whenever one movie runs its course and is taken off our roster, two more pop up in its place. Especially now that Scream 3 is finally on the market."

“. . .Oh, that’s right! It is!” Ness ever-so-slightly jumped in his seat. After enjoying the first two movies, he’d been meaning to give the latest installment a look. But so far, whether it was Sparky’s being slammed on the more favorable days or Royal Edgar’s Cinema being too crowded for his liking, things had just kept getting in the way.

Acting on instinct, Ness fished a pencil from one of his waist-apron’s pockets. At first, said pencil might not have seemed like anything special. But then you saw Fabio: a priceless treasure shaped like a rubber chicken’s head covering up the eraser. Ness started spinning the pencil between his fingers, causing Fabio to wiggle as though it was alive.

“Have you seen it already? Is it good? I have so many ideas about where the story could pick up from—”

“Hey, hey. Slow down," Mason remarked with some clear exasperation. “I haven't, but I am scheduled to project its last showing sometime next week. . .” He took a bite out of one of the chicken tenders, humming thoughtfully as he chewed. He must’ve seen the glint in Ness’ eyes, because he offered a sly smirk and lowered his voice as he continued.

“Tell you what: I’ll find a way to sneak you into the projection booth. That way, we can check it out together when the day comes.” 

“Really? You’d do that for me?” Ness asked, jokingly clutching his mug in both hands and bringing it close to his heart. 

“Sure. It’s really not too different from the customers smuggling their own snacks past the ticket desk,” Mason shrugged, though his mischievous demeanor briefly turned deadpan. “So long as you don’t play detective the entire time. My boss would rip me a new one if I just paused the movie every five minutes to let you brainstorm and talk.”

Ness scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It wouldn’t be every five minutes.”

Mason raised an eyebrow. “You’re right; it’d probably be every two minutes.” He forked up another bite of the waffles, firmly ignoring the offended waiter noises. 

“Oh, and don’t try to guilt-trip me out of my food, either. I’ve already got one moocher to deal with.” Mason scratched Checkers’ ears, to which she responded via tilting her head to the side, an undeniable trace of smugness in the warmth of her amber eyes.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Ness pronounced, his voice dripping with much more sarcasm than usual, “but fine. I can work with that.” 

“Uh-huh. You’d better,” Mason snorted, reaching over to shake hands with his friend as though the two of them were lawyers who’d just settled on some sleazy business arrangement. 

Mason was a complex person. Everyone had issues, and he was no exception to that. Not like he was at all open about said issues, but once you got to know him, you’d start to see them. (Plus, that just seemed a lot nicer than describing him as a swarm of issues shaped like a man.) He was the type to constantly shift in his seat, to give most people the side-eye, to get lost in his thoughts and grimace at nothing until he snapped himself out of it. 

At least he seemed content working at the theater. Even with the spark of horror that never seemed to leave his eyes, Mason was clearly a creative bastard. Sometimes he’d bring notebooks in and take breaks from his meal to fill their pages with paragraphs or sketches. He really did seem to have the potential for acting, maybe even directing. If his critiques and commentary on the movies he had to watch from the projection booth were anything to go by, then the projects he could possibly work on would be nothing short of awesome. 

He’d actually been one of Freddy’s past security guards. Ironically enough, he and Ness hadn’t met there. Not that Ness minded, since A. if that’d been the case, there probably would’ve been way more confused screaming than there usually was at Sparky’s, and B. considering the fact that Mason’s employment had apparently lasted a whopping one singular night. . . 

Ness still didn’t know the full story, and he could tell pressing Mason for info wouldn’t end well. But with the few snippets Jack had carefully enlightened him with. . .well—

Speak of the devil. 

The front door’s bell only had about half a second to chime yet again, almost drowned out by rapid footsteps.

“You’re late,” Ness jokingly chastised as he caught dark brown skin and black hair in his peripheral vision. He shifted in his chair, moving his legs to make some room under the table as another one of his regular-friends hurried over to claim Booth Five’s empty seat. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sue me,” Jack retorted, instantly propping his elbows on the table to knead at his forehead. It took a few long seconds for him to notice how one of his favorite dishes had apparently been waiting for him. He squinted at the food, then at Ness. “. . .I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to make it tonight?”

“And yet, here you are,” Ness replied, the definition of coy with how his shoulders popped up and down again. 

Jack might’ve wanted to ask more questions, but Mason cut him off. “Look, I don’t get it either. He doesn’t know, but he just knows.”

Jack considered this, then tilted his head to convey the type of acceptance that only came when you couldn’t really question things that probably should be questioned because you already had too many things to focus on. 

“Thanks, dude,” he murmured, nodding to Ness as he plucked one of the mozzarella sticks from his plate.

Ness nodded back, taking a few more gulps of coffee. “No problem.”

Jack paused mid-bite, eyes darting over to the brew that’d been poured for him. He scrutinized it, then raised the mug up and started chugging like a champ. 

The display made Ness glad that he’d taken the time to experiment with coffee so long ago. There was no doubting how he could now calculate exactly how much time it took for coffee to go cold. Yeah, this particular serving had been fresh out of the pot a few minutes ago, but by now it had to be at optimal temperature. Neither scalding nor tepid: just nice and warm. 

After about a moment, Jack pulled the now empty mug away from his face, taking a deep breath as he set it back down on the table.

“Rough day?” Ness inquired, specific parts of his brain starting to tick. 

Something seemed off. 

It wasn’t like he had any room to talk about slight bean juice addictions. And he certainly couldn’t blame Jack for a dependency (especially since he’d even shown some undeniable intrigue at Ness’ argument that coffee was a type of soup). Sure, Jack wasn’t narcoleptic, but when a day-and-night operating cabbie didn’t have access to some perks, things just wouldn’t go well for him or his passengers. 

But whenever Jack popped in for a bite and a chat, it was easy to assume that he’d be heading home and going to bed right after his meal. Right now, however, his demeanor was anything but tired. His shoulders were rigid. His eyes were more or less threatening to pop right out of their sockets. In fact, he almost seemed to be weighing the options of never sleeping again. 

Jack chewed his lip as he glanced in the waiter’s direction. He slowly nodded. “. . .You could say that.”

Ness exchanged glances with Mason, who had obviously seen the signs for himself. As did Checkers, since she quietly maneuvered around Ness’ chair to rest her head on Jack’s lap, peering up at him with an almost human-like air of understanding. Jack didn’t hesitate to pet the shiny fur along the dog’s neck, to which her tail started wagging but she otherwise remained still.

“What happened?” Mason asked, sitting up a little straighter. “If the vibes you’re giving off got her attention, then it must be something serious.”

Jack grimaced, closing his eyes with what seemed to be more force than necessary, taking a few long seconds to rub at their lids. 

“Did you see any rabbit-shaped things out by the dumpster? I think they only come around once a month or so, but I always feel strange if I look at them.” The words glided out of Ness’ mouth and into the air before he could think. 

Self-induced humiliation wrapped its awful, clammy hands around his ribcage as two confused glances were aimed in his direction.

“. . .What?” Jack and Mason blurted in near-perfect unison.

“What?” Ness echoed, blinking as his voice instantaneously grew a smidge louder than before. He rushed to plaster his typical, happy-go-lucky demeanor back onto his face, hoping that pretending he hadn’t spoken at all would convince his friends that he actually hadn’t. 

Not only did his latest sentence sound weird as all hell, but it’d also been downplayed as all hell. Because when Ness had said strange, what he’d really meant was the pounding, churning, pummeling agony that should only ever be present in your stomach after you’ve accidentally swallowed a few dozen live rats that just so happen to be whacked out on cocaine for whatever godforsaken reason. 

And while he wasn’t a perfect angel, Ness would never wish that particular pain on anyone else. So, the fewer people who knew about the floppy-eared cryptids (which Ness could’ve sworn looked like they’d been covered in mucus) that were apparently engrossed in  gang warfare with the local raccoons, the better. 

“Ah, did you get a bad passenger today?” Ness coughed. Jack had to deal with as many entitled idiots as Ness, if not even more. Hell, taking turns venting about that stuff was something they’d initially bonded over.

He peered through the window next to the booth—Jack’s cab was parked close enough to see that there wasn’t anything to indicate an accident. Not a life-threateningly serious one, at least. 

“Not exactly,” Jack replied, following his gaze. Where Ness’ eyes were curious, Jack’s were currently anxious and mistrusting. That was another red flag: Jack may not have treated his taxi like it was his baby, but he still took pretty good care of it. “Just a few more weirdos.” 

Mason hummed, tilting his head. “How weird specifically?” He’d heard plenty of Jack’s tales from the road; as he called on Jack for rides somewhat often, he’d even ended up being part of those tales. 

Jack knitted his brows, fidgeted in place. “You don't want to know."

“. . .Then why did you make it sound so damn vague?” Mason retorted, now dripping with incredulousness. “The less specific details are, then the more they’re gonna nag at someone’s brain.”

“He’s got a point,” Ness agreed, lightly tapping Fabio’s pencil against his mug. 

“Like that’s my fault,” Jack snorted. “Most people wouldn’t believe me if I told them.”

Ness offered an encouraging smile. “Good thing we’re not most people, then.”

Mason nodded. “Damn right. C’mon, Jack; are you really saying something could top the crackhead I had to share the backseat with last month?” 

“Yes, I am,” Jack whisper-shouted through gritted teeth, “because it was a bear!” 

Silence (save for the soft click-clack of keyboards from the corner of the diner, that is).

Jack pursed his lips, looking equal parts exasperated and worried. He sighed yet again, reaching up to press his fingers against his temples.

“. . .What kind of bear was it?” Ness eventually tried. 

Mason, who’d previously been squinting while his mouth opened and closed with no words coming out, turned his head to face Ness with such speed and force that he might’ve actually given himself whiplash. “That’s the first thing you focus on?!”

Ness made a shaky lame gesture. “It’s a fair question! What’re you focusing on?” (He wasn’t wrong. There was a lot of variety among bears, after all. And a bear that lived in the woods and had huge claws and could outeat, outrun, outswim, and probably even outdrink the average person would be a lot more to handle than one of the bears that had attended the latest local Pride parade.) 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you,” Mason declared, returning his attention to Jack, “look significantly less mauled than most people who get close to bears! Seriously, how is your face still connected to your skull?!” 

“I didn’t mea—!” Jack was about to go on the defensive, but stopped short. “What, were you expecting me to get ripped to shreds tonight? So damn sorry if I didn’t get the memo!”

“No! Of course not!” Mason contended. “Look, you can’t just say you had a run-in with a bear and leave it at that!”

Jack threw his hands up. “Well, I told you you didn’t want to know!”

“How the hell can we not NEED to know now?” Ness pointed out. Though he was growing just as confused as Mason, he tried to keep his voice even.

Jack gave him an exhausted look before craning his neck to rest his head against the booth’s seat, staring at the ceiling. 

“It was a huge robot,” he finally clarified. “Looked like it’d been at the bottom of a scrap heap for years; I’d guess it was older than my dad. But its eye glowed blue like the machines inside it were still working. It made the car shake—I’m honestly surprised the back tires never gave out. And God damn, the smell. . .rust and blood and mucus, I swear!”

Now it was Mason’s turn to go rigid. A tidal wave of emotion seemed to sweep through his features; first surprise, then recognition, and then dread. He placed a hand on the nearest corner of the table as if to steady himself. 

“It was wearing a black top hat and bowtie, wasn’t it?” He murmured. It sounded much more like a statement than a question, and the way his tone had become so hollow didn’t help.

Jack lowered his head, clearly unsure whether or not to make eye-contact as he nodded. 

“Sounds like the way Freddy was designed. . .” Ness mused without quite meaning to. 

Memories of the huge sign that had been built to loom over the old pizzeria’s front entrance flooded into his head. The blinking lights that bordered the establishment’s title and seemed to chase each other around and around and around. The life-sized cutout of the one and only Freddy Fazbear himself, using one paw to adjust his bowtie and the other to wave, seemingly beckoning customers to wander inside. 

Those memories dissolved as Ness winced and glanced back at Mason, who was now reaching up with a shaking hand to grasp at his hoodie’s collar, tugging it to cover up the top of an old, deep scar that dragged along the skin of his neck. Ness shuffled in his seat, trying not to stare at how quickly the color drained from his friend’s face. 

Checkers was back by Mason’s side in an instant, bracing her paws against the seat as she licked at his face. Mason blinked, a huge shudder rippling through his chest as he hugged his pet.

A few minutes dragged by, feeling like an hour apiece and jeering at the trio as they went.

“So.” Mason finally announced, still keeping his gentle-yet-obviously-desperate hold on Checkers. “Let me get this straight: that. . .that thing got into your cab like it paid rent just a few hours ago?” 

Jack pursed his lips, nodding again. “There was a kid with it, too. A little girl. She didn’t even seem scared at all. The whole ride, she was smiling and hugging the bear’s arm—”

“Wait, you actually drove it somewhere?!” Mason demanded.

Jack sputtered. “What other choice did I have?!”

“I mean, that’s kind of literally his job,” Ness mentioned. 

True, he was grappling with the fact that he and his friends had apparently been transported into some cheap bizzarofiction novel. And yet, somehow, this wasn’t even the craziest story that’d been relayed to him from a customer. He peered down at Fabio as though it was about to start contributing to this conversation. “Where did you take them?”

Jack raised an eyebrow at Ness (which he guessed couldn’t be helped. Ness already had an idea, but it was rude to just assume, wasn’t it?). “Where else? That old pizza joint you’ve been trying to write an encyclopedia on.”

Mason was about to say something else, but stopped short in favor of turning his shock toward Ness.

Ness raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “Look, I know you don’t like that place, but just remember that I don’t question what you do with your free-time.”

“That’s right. And even if you did, you wouldn’t have to, because I don’t spend my free-time poking around the fourth Circle of Hell!” Mason snarked. 

“I won’t lie and say it’s not creepy,” Ness admitted, unable to stop a chill from racing down his spine at the memory of the restaurant’s grimy wall posters, the draft that always seemed to be in the air over there, the disturbingly sour tang of what he’d hoped was just ancient pizza sauce, “but that still seems pretty harsh.”

Mason gawked, fragments of words leaking through his teeth.

“If we’re looking at the bigger picture,” Jack coughed, probably attempting to steer Mason away from a potential stroke, “then nothing really happened tonight. The bear didn’t even make a peep the whole time. I didn’t get hurt, and that girl didn’t get hurt. She even left a handful of change when we got to the restaurant.”

Ness squinted and tilted his head at that. As far as he knew, the rules Jack applied to his cab were pretty lax and basic, but he’d always been firm on never taking money from lone child passengers.

Then again, if the child passenger in question was traveling with a huge robotic animal that apparently had enough sentience to use a taxi in the first place, it was probably best to just go along with whatever happened and leave the sanity-questioning session for later.

Jack fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. “. . .That actually wasn’t even the worst part of tonight’s shift.”

Mason leaned back against the leather seat, looking very much lightheaded. His eyes bulged from their sockets as he furiously motioned for his friend to elaborate. 

Jack hesitated before explaining, “Well, once the girl and the bear were out, I decided to just call it a day. After I got far enough away from the pizzeria, I parked by one of the downtown curbs and switched the car’s sign to Off Duty. I was trying to get a catnap in—”

“It’s a miracle you could even try to sleep after that damn bear basically held you hostage,” Mason interjected.

“—when someone knocked on the window. I told ‘em to read the sign and come find me later, but they opened up the door and got in anyway. So, I was about to kick them out and. . .” Jack trailed off, shaking his shoulders as though a few dozen cockroaches had spontaneously taken up nest in his jacket.  

“And. . .?” Ness echoed, the curiosity-concern cocktail in his mind getting stronger.

“And there was some tiny doll in my passenger seat,” Jack concluded. “Looked creepy as hell.”

Ness hummed in consideration. “Sounds like it could just be a weird prank? The teens in that area are always following strange trends.”

Jack nervously shook his head. “I couldn’t see anyone outside the cab. It only took a few seconds for me to look; there’s no way anyone could move fast enough to hide after they put the doll in.”

“A tiny doll. . ?” Mason’s brow furrowed in thought for a couple seconds, then promptly returned to its collision course for Mars. He leaned over the table. “Did it have bug-eyes and buck teeth? Was it wearing one of those stupid propeller hats and holding a red-and-yellow striped balloon?”

Jack’s face contorted in confusion as he nodded. “. . .That pretty much sums it up.”

Though his expression was still grim, Mason’s fear quickly metamorphosed into some good ol’ fashioned aggravation. “That’s the bastard,” he seethed, knuckles turning white. 

Jack blinked, perplexity slowly overtaking his latest case of heebie-jeebies. “Wait, you’ve seen that thing before?”

“I have, unfortunately.” Mason grimaced. An odd type of adrenaline etched its way across his face. “Is it still in the cab?”

Jack nodded again. “I didn’t want to risk touching it.”The words were barely out of his mouth when Mason rose from the booth and stalked outside through Sparky’s front entrance. Checkers trotted after him, the tiredness of an actual nurse flickering in her eyes.

Ness and Jack basically had frontrow seats to observe their friend approaching Jack’s cab, ripping the passenger-side door open and fishing something out before slamming it closed again.

With that, Mason raced to the edge of the parking lot and proceeded to dropkick what had to be the mysterious balloon-toting doll out of sight.

Despite his shock, part of Ness still felt relieved that Mason hadn’t simply deposited it into the dumpster. Just in case those awful rabbit-looking things happened to be paying a visit tonight. . .

@sammys-magical-au @that-bat @th3w00ds @bee-the-matpat-simp @touyubesposts @crazy-obsessed-enby @i-used-to-wear-the-fedora @holyawesomestitches @s-e-v-e-n-24 @sotogalmo @ciphershadow @deethedustyassdumbass @theechoingmadness @its-a-goddamn-ass-race @zam-witch @box-goat @redd-byrd @icantmakeupagoodname @pleasedontmind-the-emerald @transparentghosty @vegaslvrr @itzqueers-blog @wannabeavocaloidmystery @shivr0ygf @ciara-clycone @not-made-of-actual-rye @m0on-shro0m @imafruitbowl @azure-trash @il0v3mus1cals @v1r-x @kafkaisnotdead @junaslagoon @alicethemenace @ilovenikkisixx @m00nlight-mexican @w0rd3855 @head-without-a-fucking-brain. @unkn0wn-nys @not-made-of-actual-rye @101k-t101 @theonlykala @dividel @riff-is-on-a-fucking-crisis @roselily2006 @max-afton @abe-the-detective-blog @floating-above-sea-level @madhare051

#my writing #my stories #fnaf movie #fnaf movie spoilers #ness the waiter #waiterpat/ness #matpat #egopats #matthew patrick #jack the cabbie #cabbie!cory/jack #coryxkenshin #kenshinegos #cory williams #mason kingsley/nightguard!mark #mark's abandoned-nightguard-cameo-character #markiplier #mark fischbach #tw food/drink #tw eating/drinking #tw implied trauma #tw mentions of blood #tw mentions of past violence

[thedeepweb]

i think i didnt post it here but i think the problem vampires have is that they tend to isolate themselves, so when a victim shows up to their secluded lair its obvious they are starving. specially when they are in the universes where they need to ask for permission to enter houses. if i were a vampire bound by this stupid rule, instead of going to my sexy castle and having to seduce each victim every +5 years bc no one simply goes to castles, you know what i'd do? run an inn

consider, first i have plentiful of people coming in and out. solves my problem with having few victims that i grew desesperate. second and most important, this is all my building, and therefore don't need to ask for permission to roam anywhere. third, things just happen at inns, so i have an excellent cover for everything

"this woman only appears when it's dark and sleeps all day long" well she's the nightguard :) "she enters rooms unannounced" she's doing the nightly towel/water refill or checking on appliances. "i woke up with two marks on my neck" oh how embarassing, it seems last tenant had a ticks problem, sorry, we'll desinfect your room inmediatly. enter again the second part where i can go grab a bite at midnight, leave and reenter with a diffuser with some nice herbs, again perfect explanation and execution. someone sees me reenter the room? well i wanted to check in there werent any ticks and saw the marks on the person :) "i never see her eating" um first of all don't stalk women? and second of course you don't silly, she's the inn owner she eats in the kitchen/in her room and does the night shift

see how easy it is? on vampires that have the problem where they feel like doomed monsters it's like, understandable they isolate. but the rest, what was stopping you from doing this? a vampire is basically a parasite, might as well capitalize on that and rent property

#''but-'' i hear you say (i have very good hearing)........................ sorry i had to aefsgrdtfdhgrsegrdthf #''but what about the vampires that live alone bc they believe themselves to be superior to humans and hate them'' have you met a landlord #''what about dio'' dio doesn't need this advice bc he runs his fuckmansion and thus does not starve. this is about lame beta vampires

[yourlocalsonia2]

Manic and Panic headcannons (+Puppet)

I am in a Dawko craze rn so I'm making headcannons for a 2-3ish year old pilot

General things

Darkest desire 2 never happened

The year is around the 1990's to early 2000's

The location would be FNAF 1 then go to FNAF 2

there are versions of CG5, DAgames and DHeusta (who'll probably make some minor appearances)

this universe is connected to FNAF The Musical's universe but now Matt is just a higher up employee, Mark is also night guard and Nate is a a partial technician, composer and night guard.

Manic/Dawktrap

he is still partially in Glitchtrap's control but he has moments where he isn't

he doesn't care if he's called either Manic or Dawktrap

he is the most "American" character

he'll whistle and hum darkest desire

he is very unpredictable

if his eyes are more pink in color, he's under the influence of glitchtrap (+he will probably get more violent)

and if his eyes are more blue, he old conscious has more control

he's a silly, goofy and stabby guy

he is also very bad socially (and if there's some point where him and Panic get along....he would be the most awkward person)

he loves checking the animatronics and how they work

he is kind of like a well-known guy in Freddy's (with the other employees)

has an odd fondness for Panic ("this guy is hard to kill, wonder why?") but he loves harassing him

(inspiration by someone's headcannon) anytime he goes past a camera, he and the camera glitches

if he is strong enough in the moment, he can mind control others

^Now I realize he reminds me of Hyde from The Glass Scientists^

Panic / Nightguard Dawko

His name is Lou but Manic would call him Panic and now other people call him that know (he's to nervous to correct anyone)

deathly afraid of Manic (would take everything to be friends with him in the possible redemption arc)

he is horrible in social situations but somehow is friends with CG, DA and DH

he's a very weak spirited person

he's skiddish and has a shit ton of anxiety bc of Manic

he's actually the taller of the two (6'2 / Dawko's height)

best reflexes in the entire cast (lmao)

as a kid, he had dreamed of becoming a preformer and a singer ^ (little showtime Dawko ref)

^ he obviously didn't achieve it but he does try to write songs with his friends as a side hobby

he has a really shitty therapist (who Manic secretly k!lls at some point)

he is the most competent security guard but also kinda is the worst

Poopet / Puppet Dawko

(yes I know he isn't part of the pilot but he is part of this au)

He is an alternate and more humanoid version of the puppet animatronic

He isn't possessed but partially programmed by the og puppet

He doesn't talk but does know sign language

he has a Freddy plushie in his box (the plush is unknowingly possessed by 8-Bit Ryan)

He enjoys watching the employees after hours

he works better with children bc of the more humanoid design

the song for the music box is a version of Like it or not

his is 6'8 (not most people know bc he is usually sitting inside of his box)

he/they pronouns

he will always protect people in need

Relationships or just general stuff w/ the major and minor cast members

1. Manic and Panic

Panic is very afraid of Manic and thinks of him as a horrible and creepy thing

While Manic is very intrigued by the sheer luck and cowardice Panic has. But also wants to kill him

Will this become an eventual friendship...idk

2. M&P with the Puppet

Manic absolutely hates Poopet (he gave him the nickname), he hates that they always get in the way and keep protecting Panic

Puppet almost equally hates Dawktrap, they know he is a murderer and is trying to harm innocent people

Panic used to be scared of Puppet before he realized that they would protect him, and now they're friends

3. Manic with the others

Manic doesnt have an opinion with Panic's friends other than that they would be fun to harass or control. But, CG, DA and DH all hate him for trying to kill their friend and causing a lot of his mental health issues.

Manic finds Matt interesting with all of his conspiracy theories about the restaurant chain and that he has a pretty interesting backstory to hear (and vice versa).

Manic wants to kill Mark so bad but he won't yet

Manic finds Nate fun (that's it)

4. Panic with the others

He absoluetly loves his friend group and they love him too

Panic and Matt are also good friends and tney love to discuss theories but bc if their roles, they don't have time too see each other.

Panic is also good acquaintances with Mark, they like hanging out with Matt

Panic kinda admirers Nate for his music but he's to afraid to talk to him about it

#headcanons #I low-key don't like these headcannons

[thelithianqueen-refs]

•Name: Eiji Soval.

•Age: 25

•Gender: Nonbinary. They/them and she/her pronouns.

•Height: 7'2"

•Family: no direct family. Views the nightguard as a caretaker.

•Friends: Chica, Roxy, Sun and Moon. Is cordial with Freddy and Monty.

•Personality: calmer than most, levelheaded in stressful situations, is carefree at times.

•Likes: music, reading, helping in the daycare and dancing.

•Hates: stereotypes, prejudice, violent people and rumors.

•Backup singer for the group. Helps out in the daycare part time.

•Encourages the kids to be themself and express themselves through their passions.

•Doesn't conform to standard gender norms.

•One eye is usually hidden by hair.

•Belt can come off.

•Kiss mark was put there by Moon.

•Relationship: taken.

Eiji and drawing @ me.

#fnaf security breach oc #reference #my oc #nonbinary #they/them #digital art