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thessbiteof87

Never send Bonnie to run errands

NOW IN VIDEO FORM!!

#long post #gallery

talktoten-a-deactivated20240813

What do you think of my characterisation?

#LAUGhs hopefully i can get back to drafts once my cold and/or fever levels out #i'm sorry #meme sunday

ashks

Smol Spoopy Foxy for Animal Sweater Sunday

#gallery

Visit Original Link

#audio

apostlemonroe-deactivated201606

“Me? I’m Simon. Simon Monroe.” He cocks his head, seemingly unthrown by the general eeriness of the animatronic speaking to him, the rattling of its body. He purses his lips, then decides to go for it.

“You smell like death. Not fresh death. Old death.” This is possibly a rude thing to say. Simon is now teaching the child horrible manners on top of Foxy being an anger prone murdering animatronic. Fantastic. “Which - I do too, though I suppose you can’t smell that. No nose, right? Or do you have one?”

Hmm. No nose. That was his final decision on the question. “Regardless. I’m dead, so I’m familiar with the scent. I suppose, if the movies were right and…” He spits the next word out, “zombies can exist, there’s no reason possession can’t, yes?”

He taps the corner of one eye, gesturing to the whiteness there instead of its previous human grey, also drawing focus to the cool grey of his skin. He doesn’t suspect it’s a child, though - God no. He couldn’t even fathom that terrible fate - being late 20s and dead is awful enough. That a child could live like this, could live with being stuck in a malfunctioning machine? Too horrifying for words.

vulpeculoid-blog

Somewhere along the line he'd gotten stuck on the phrase old death. Never mind that he'd just been told quite plainly that he reeked-- Foxy was infinitely more concerned with the prospect that a complete stranger might know a lot more than he ought.

Even now the boy was still trying to process exactly what he was, who he was supposed to be and the endeavor had lasted him years yet. Then again, maybe he'd given up on reaching a conclusion a while ago. Being Foxy the Pirate took all he had, and by now that wasn't a whole lot of much. That an adult might put the pieces together in a span of mere minutes frightened him.

Adults were clever, cunning, enough so to be highly alarming. And this man Simon-- Mister Monroe-- those sharp, whitened eyes did nothing to help his impressions.

A quiet, sickly groan escaped Foxy as he moved to shield the wide rips in his matted fur from sight. An effort made in vain considering the extent of the damage, but it was all he could do. A dark and grisly secret was hiding away somewhere in the depths of his tangled wiring and circuits, and it was something he hated being reminded of.

Zombie? Possession? The latter was still a complicated word for him. “dOON’T knowww... w-what thAAT M-M-MEEEans.”

#apostlemonroe #big word with multiple meanings plus small child equals ???? profit

jocularjewel

Gasp!

“Woaaah! Y-you’re back! You’re really back, aren’t you!?”

Though he doesn’t take into consideration that it was “his” Foxy from long ago, it’s still Foxy. He could never understand why so many individuals feared such a lovable and amazing robot! He told pirate jokes, for goodness sake! Plus his fur was soft and smelled like cheese from a pizza! How could anyone ever pass up getting to know such a cool dude?

Steven nonetheless continues running up to the animatronic with a big smile, bouncing in place as he attempted to contain his giggles.

“Foxy! I-It’s me, Steven! You remember me, dont’cha? Dont’cha buddy?”

@vulpeculoid

vulpeculoid-blog

Steven… ?

Foxy couldn’t help but stare for a moment as he tried to recall, and while the name of course wasn’t uncommon the child’s face was foreign to him. But there was no way Foxy could deny him, not when he was clearly so happy to see an old friend! Was he at fault for forgetting? Just how much had he lost during his out-of-order stasis?

Something emanated from Steven that was almost magnetic to his rusty wires, like love and light in abundance. He would’ve had to truly be a monster to disappoint and that thought gave the boy some small selfish comfort, enough to bury his guilt for the time being. The eyepatch flipped up in a show of acknowledgement and Foxy gave his barking laugh.

“Nowww, now! W-w-What kind o’ captain would I b-beee if I went ‘n forgggot me first mate, eh!”

#jocularjewel #yes helo i love dying and being dead

apostlemonroe-deactivated201606

@vulpeculoid

That… was odd. Oh, sure, he was no stranger to mascots - he’d seen a few in his day. But this one? Something about this one didn’t seem particularly… Child friendly. Perhaps it was the sharp teeth - or the strange look in its eyes - or the smell of death that Simon was intimately familiar with.

Common sense told him not to approach it. Common sense wasn’t what had lead him to dying of a heroin overdose, though, so he disregarded it as he approached, fingers locked behind his back as he tilted his head, white eyes peering at the interior structure of the animatronic, although without getting his head too near that mouth. Those teeth were a bit too sharp for his tastes.

“You’re an interesting thing, aren’t you?”

vulpeculoid-blog

Foxy's joints had gone rigid when the man approached. Although he began to recoil slightly like an aggrieved snake with the thought of striking, he couldn't bring himself to follow up.

He was largely accustomed to unease, distance and boldfaced terror from older generations and as far as he was concerned that was how it ought to be. Fearless curiosity from an adult was new-- he couldn't decide whether or not it was a welcome thing, nor did he quite know how to swallow it. 'Interesting' was a far tamer word than what he normally heard.

The gears hidden in Foxy’s tattered chest rattled idly as he contemplated. By their display the stranger seemed honest, enough so not to hide or lie. His voice box crackled momentarily in the effort to isolate the words he wanted and his hanging jaw moved weakly in an attempt to keep sync.