Haven’t posted my art here in forever.
This was for the Goretober prompt “Phobia”. Leif is terrified of clowns; there’s something uncanny about them. The clown in the back belongs to my friend, Alu.
i’ve been seeing you all over jasmina’s blog and i’m glad you decided to make your own. welcome!
- @bakubunny ♡
Ahh! I've been noticed! Abort mission! Abort mission!
Seriously tho - thanks for the welcome! I'd been debating about it for a while, but I needed a good url first. @heartofjasmina is actually the one that came up with it, bc of my signoff (⚡, AKA the sparky anon).
Sweetie i know it's been a long time but i really need more Brahms! König🥵🥵🥵!!!!
I KNOW! I STILL REMEMBER THE DAY MY FRIEND ASKED ME TO WRITE THE FIRST BRAHMS!KÖNIG. And I still remember how musky and broad Brahms looked like in the movie….
Brahms!König pt.3
Cw: DARKFIC, kidnapping, imprisonment, possessiveness, tell me if I missed any.
You could hear their voices, the confused and worried tones of your coworkers through the thick, sound-insulating walls of his little cave. He’d taken you to his home, within the walls of the dilapidated mansion, tying you to his bed and leaving you vulnerable to him and anyone who’d stumble into your restrained figure. You writhed on his bed, the sheet-covered mattress smelling musky and thick, it smelled of sweat and blood and earth, something too masculine, fitting of his stature and being. Your gag was stinky and crusted, a salty and tangy taste lingering on your tongue that told you enough of the cloth’s original use. You would’ve retched if you weren’t gagged so tightly.
Your eyes scoured his room, the dark and dingy basement lit up by a single light of his lamp, left on the small workbench beside every kind of artistic materials, glue, saws, scissors, needles, wool and string organised in their own corner of the wall. Despite the bright light, the rest of the room remained shrouded in darkness, shadows dancing across the walls like demons and monsters coming to haunt you in weakness, coming to join your captor in his fun.
You dreaded the moment he comes back, the silence of your cage a striking contrast to the bustling house you were hidden in. You feared what he’d do to you now that he had you, knowing that he was grinding up against you and rutting your thigh, panting loudly and grabbing at you like a man starved for attention —perhaps he was one. All your training and instincts failed you, stripped from any weapons and your gear, boots unlaced and toes curling in your socks, you’d been left in your undershirt and pants.
In your whimpering and fright, you almost missed the loud, telltale steps of your giant protector, walking down the narrow path to his room. Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. You glanced at him, and caught him staring back at you, your sweat-coated skin and flushed skin, naked to his cool eyes. He smiled through them, roving over your panicked expression, pinched brows and tense shoulders, down the slope of your abdomen and the curve of your hips before he moved, stepping closer and closer to you with a bright and needy gleam.
The bed creaked under his weight, slumping to the side as he sat down, his calloused hands cradling your face and coaxing you to look at him when you glanced away, his thumb rubbing the bags under your eyes. He cooed soft words and praises, as if he was calming down a cornered animal, waiting to hand you treats and praises, little caresses and adoring kisses.
“Look at you, Maus,” he sighed lowly, his auburn hair curled around his porcelain mask, tickling the edge of his ears, “You’ll be good for me, ja? If you behave, I’ll untie you, let you walk around our room.”
If you wanted a chance at freedom, you’d have to play into his hand, eat and drink from his big hand until he trusted you to leave you alone for an undetermined amount of time, hunting and scavenging the area he lived in. Gulping down you fear, you gave him a hesitant nod, eyes closed to accept the life you’d live for a while.
I know you probably JUST posted the FNAF Movie request where the reader possesses Sparky, but after reading it this idea popped into my head and I need to get it out there.
Could we have a sort of continuation of the 'Sparky reader' fic that takes place towards the finale of the movie? The idea I had is that after Abby helps the animatronics remember that it was William Afton who killed them, the reader actually joins up with the others in confronting him. Additionally, William is shocked because he wasn't expecting the reader to have also possessed an animatronic, let alone that they would have command over the others (he probably thought he was the only one with that kind of power).
👀
The first Sparky!Reader part
........
"Look at you...look at the nasty things that you have become! Look at how small you are! How worthless you are!! You are wretched, rotten little beasts! I MADE YOU!!!"
Even as William shouted angrily at the animatronics, pounding a gloved fist against his chest, he realized how quickly he was losing his ability to keep them in line.
Thanks to that brat showing them the truth in a stupid drawing--which proved that he, the yellow bunny they once trusted, was the cause of all their pain--they didn't obey him anymore.
Now he couldn't control them like he used to.
No longer were they blindly singing and dancing to his tune.
Because they finally remembered what really happened that day.
He then heard another pair of heavy footsteps, and from the darkness emerged a character he had almost entirely forgotten about:
Sparky.
But how was he moving? And why?
William swore that mutt was sitting in the backstage area, deactivated and unable to walk freely.
It was impossible.
Unless....
"Of course..I figured you would have woken up eventually, too." He chuckled weakly, taunting you all. "So what's your plan now? To kill me? Shove me into a suit like you did to those poor people?! Well you can't...because I know how you all think!! I'm smarter than you!!"
"No. You are a fool, Afton. It isn't us who will kill you."
His laughter ceased upon hearing your disembodied voice speaking to him, and he froze for a moment, bewildered by what you had said.
It was extremely unnerving to learn that your ghost could even talk to him at all, considering the other children have been silent.
What made you so special?
Unfortunately for him, he realized far too late what you meant by those words...as he noticed you gesturing to Chica, who sent her Cupcake after him.
It lunged with a growl, biting into the torso of his suit and not letting go.
He grabbed onto it, struggling to tear the feral little bastard off of him, not knowing that would be the last mistake he ever made.
When he finally managed to toss the Cupcake away from him, it took a chunk of the suit's fabric with it, exposing part of the springlock endoskeleton underneath.
And without any material for the mechanisms to stay compressed against...
They snapped, one bar stabbing into his side and sinking deep into his flesh, blood leaking through his shirt almost immediately.
With a gasp of pain, William collapsed to his knees as the springlocks continued to puncture him one by one--with you and the other animatronics simply staring him down, watching him endure the same torment he brought upon each of you.
None of your suits were made from springlocks, of course...but now he, too, will know what it's like to be encased inside a tomb of fabric and metal forever.
He scrambled for the Springbonnie head that laid beside him, only to see your brown paws snatch it off the ground.
You kept his above his head, just barely within his reach.
All he did was stare into your glowing red eyes, shocked at the commanding presence you held over his creations. He had no idea how you got them to follow your lead so easily.
Yet despite knowing that he lost, he refused to lie down and show any sort of fear.
Instead a grin appeared on his sweaty face, each exhaled breath growing more strained than the last.
And before you shoved the Springbonnie head onto him, forever sealing him inside his tomb, he made one final haunting declaration:
Based on a request:
Listen. 141 (plus König if you want) with reader being know as someone who has the sweetest voice, friendlies tone, and is everyone's friend because of this but then when they finally hear them laugh. They let out the MOST DIABOLICAL, CRAZY, ABNORMAL, AND UNNATURAL LAUGH THEY HAVE EVER HEARD COMING FROM A HUMAN BEING!!!!
(This is me, I was told I laugh like a witch, or a gremlin, or a undiagnosed mental person.)
Thank you 😊
----
GN!Reader, platonic!relationship, funny laugh, fluff??
----
Being the smallest in the team, height-wise, the men who work with you always perceive you as something tiny and adorable. Your voice has always been so sweet and soft, so when Soap tells a joke in the late hours of the night, you laugh so hard that it genuinely scares them all.
The room is dim, your shadow cast on the wall as you rock back and forth with your "gremlin" laughter. Gaz is the first one to laugh at this, finds it quite funny how a cute little thing like you can laugh this loud and so…weird? He is going to be bringing this up in the future.
Ghost is the second one to react, he begins to say his horrible jokes. His deep laughter mixed with that stare he gave you dealt the deal that you would now be known as Grim, the soldier with the laughter and his newest goal is to make you laugh as hard and as much as possible. This is why now that Soap got that laugh out of you, Ghost keeps adding more jokes to the point you start to tear up and beg for him to stop because your tummy hurts.
Price joined afterwards, cigar held between his fingers as smoke fell from his cough of laughs. Tears get wiped the louder Ghost makes you laugh. Clouds of smoke fill the room, you enjoy this small moment since it will be the last one before going on an operation. When Price can't take the pain from laughing, he walks out of the room.
Soap and König join last and all they can do is bring a louder laughter to the room. The men only bring the volume of the room to rise, everyone inside adding more fuel to the fire and without knowing, soldiers from other sides of base begin to peek into the room, wanting more on the gun. Soap is the kind of man to push people when he laughs and naturally, the tall man König is became the target.
For nearly thirty minutes the jokes and laughs came along all until everyone lay on their beds, trying to catch their breath.
This is the rare moment soldiers like them and you get. It is beautiful, truly magical to have a sit-down, to listen, to smile and to feel that just for a moment all is fine. No blood on the dark military clothes, no worry about what is out there. A gun, bullet, a cry for a medic, all that is out of this room. Warmth, friends and a good rest, that is what stays in this room. This is a good tummy ache.
A/N: having a Writing/English class and my head is only filled with what I've done for the past week. Rhetorical this and that and now what you just read is my last piece of energy.
If at first you don’t succeed….Duck Dodgers pitch cover - This second attempt to sell Duck Dodgers as a television show in Oct. 1998, had Lola Bunny joining the crew, Sparky being reduced to a smaller role with Dodgers’ rival Star Johnson. John P. McCann was in charge of revamping this version of the show. He asked me and Tony Cervone to adapt the artwork to reflect this new direction.