I have a clear vision what I wanna do with the human characters in my FNAF AU but I don't have that for characters like the mimic.
And all this grief and killer robot stuff just doesn't fit in my AU (bc yk no murder AU)
So I made a small concept of Mimic being an employee at the MCM!
Don't know if I add that at some point in my AU but it is a fun concept to play around with.
Ok,,, I never left my security breach phase it was all a lie
this was made in an art jam on magma, credits to @/welcometomyyard for the moon doodle in the bottom right corner! :-)
My masterpost for all of this year's Artfight attacks!
I had so much fun during my very first time joining the event! I wish I could have had more time to draw, but I'm definitely looking forward to joining again next year!!!
Pictures and links to character profiles below!
@s1lv3rth0rn | Asa
@bumble-the-sun-bee | Cotton Candy Eclipse and Cryptid Malware
@starfyll | Mordecai
@gyxtar0luvs | Hime
@grandfathermage | Eve and Morn
@the-wet-noodle | Jupiter and @vincentsalright | Comet
i was going to try and come up with a better title but the original shitpost one is still so funny despite the content LMAOO
anyway, another thing with @cozycircuits' autocannibal au, quick drabble if you will
Content warning: graphic depictions of blood and gore, reader discreation is heavily advised
Word count: 852
Sick.
That's how you'd describe how you'd feel in this moment. Not in searing pain, or unimaginable discomfort or even intense fear and horror. Just, sick. Nauseous, queasy, ready to throw up—
If you could, that is.
You're not even sure your stomach is still properly attached to your esophagus. If you tried to vomit, would anything happen? There's no muscles remaining around your stomach to contract and push bile up into your throat. You're only able to breathe, heart beating, because he hasn't worked his way up there.
Yet.
It's some twisted joke that you're still alive in this moment. You crave death more than anything right now. Anything to make this awful feeling stop.
Your entire body trembles, you think from the mixing stimulus of lack of sensation, and the ability to sense everything in that moment. Every minor nerve, muscle fiber, tendon is alight with feeling as you hang there, suspended by jump ropes, of all things.
Though, you think in that moment you're just grateful that there's no nerves connected to your organs.
You're feverish you think. The world around you fuzzy, lightheadedness ever-present, probably due to the blood loss. Actually, most definitely because of the blood loss.
The smell is atrocious. Straight iron mixed with what you have to assume is stomach acid from your intestines. It burns your nose in a specific manner, only adding to the sickness that ails you.
Everything is muffled, dull, to what's left of your senses. Though, there is a singular sound that rings clear in your mind.
Bells.
Humming, and bells.
The source of which appears in front of you shortly thereafter. You can only see his feet, head far too heavy to drag up to look at him properly. You don't like being able to see your own guts at the bottom of your peripheral, but beggars can't be choosers.
"Can't even be bothered to look me in the eyes, friend?" A tsk, your hair is grabbed, yanked up to make your glossy stare focus on his static faceplate. "That's better~ Don't you know it's rude not to acknowledge someone?"
You don't say anything, you can't. There's no energy left in you for it.
Sun mutters under his breath, a hint of a smirk in his tone. "Though you of all people probably wouldn't. Couldn't even get a simple hello out of you. I'd say 'look where it got you' but well, let's face it, you would have been here anyway, pretty little thing."
You huff softly at that. You'd always avoided the attendant simply out of nerves. You were polite though in passing, waving and such as you went by on your rounds. Hell you'd even indulge in the nicknames with him he was so persistent about. Who knew none of it would matter in the end. Not you at least.
"Come now, not even a smile?" He tuts, tilting your head as he spins his rays. "Just one for your 'Sunny'?"
That gets something out of you.
"Go to hell." You spit. Figuratively and literally. Blood splatters across his faceplate. Your lungs might be punctured at this point, you're not too sure.
Sun chuckles, dark, sinister. "We're already there, friend."
He leans in then, pressing his smile against your protesting mouth, nuzzling against you with a skin-crawling giggle before pulling away once you're more out of breath than before.
He drops your head then, giving it a few pats before bending down, it lurches back down against your chest.
Sun goes back to humming then. No hesitation in him as he starts digging around in your internal—now mostly external—organs. You just stare at the top of his head, you don't want to find out the answer to your question from earlier.
There's a certain manner to how he shifts and twists your organs. Holding and examining each one with careful intent. When you sneak a glance and see how he's enamoured, with your small intestine is when it hits you.
He's playing.
"You know, Moon's always so insistent about using things for meals. 'These kidneys would make a good saute this' 'Save his liver for a pizza topping that' on and on. I personally think it's a waste." Squelching can be heard over the sound of his voice, though only faintly to your ears. "There's far better things to use the lovely presents we collect for." A pause in digging, you can make out something being detached from your body. "Especially yours."
A yank that you can hardly register, and a hint of delight in Sun's tone. "Bullseye!"
You faintly notice he's lifting something up for you to look at, snapping blood covered fingers. "Pay attention now Starlight, I don't take kindly to an unattentive audience." You blink, and shift your gaze to where he's holding up a small sack that's green underneath all the blood. Your gallbladder, you think. "Take this for example, what a lovely shade of green! Oh, it'll be perfect for the painting I'm making for you."
His rays spin, eyes narrowing.
"Let's just hope you're around long enough to see it, hm?"
with a title like 'Reverse Wireplay' i think everyone could guess where this was going, love writing these evil fucks, they make me sick, that's all, thank you for reading!
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