Hi Guys I Like To Draw And Play With Toys

hi guys i like to draw and play with toys

Fit I made based on A.M.✨✨

This art makes me feel cozy idk how to explain

MY ART OF THE MCI FOR THE FNAF ANNIVERSARY!!!! HAPPY 10 YEARS TO MY FAVORITE FRANCHISE <33333

(in order being gabriel, jeremy, fritz, susie, charlotte, and cassidy. art is based on the music video for harpy hare by yaelokre :3)

Please help I just saw Water for Elephants on broadway and now it’s 2:00 a.m. and I’m drawing this moron

I need help.

Friendly reminder I would absolutely adore taking requests!!

Here's my contribution to the fnaf anniversary:

(Ik im not really in the fandom but I felt like I kinda had to do smth, you know?)

Thank you to @alexthesillybilly for the concept, and @liquid-geodes for the idea of blind Springtrap!!

First two chapters are under the cut

It was another day.... was it? Lord knows he's lost all sense of time at this point. He's... awake and that's about all he knows. He can't stand yet. Perhaps in an hour or so he'll try.

He can't see- hasn't been able to for some time. It doesn't matter though. The room is still dark. There is no noise save for his own raspy breath and the faint drip-dropping of water from the moldy ceilings.

Just another day.

He- for lack of better word- thinks to himself. What else can he do? He simply ruminates. About his regrets and mistakes, about his friends and family. It is lonely, but what else can he do?

After all, it's just another day.

He hears a noise. A new noise. A different noise. It is a prominent, thumping sound. It sounds an awful lot like footsteps.

Fear is the first sensation that blooms in his chest and he thinks of how irrational that is. He. William Afton. Sitting here. His body torn apart and rotting. Sitting in a pile of his own dried blood and other horrible things that used to be inside of him. Scared. Of footsteps.

He'd laugh if he had the willpower.

He's about to stop caring- about to name this whole scenario a freak accident until he hears the door to the room opening.

Opening.

The door to his prison has been opened and all he wants to do is to shut it. It's too hot, the light from the door. It's too much. He is pretty sure there is a man standing there. He sounds excited. Why?

William quickly discovers why.

The man is walking over to him. Walking. Walking. Step after step.

Get away, William wants to scream. Get away get away get away. I don't know you, why are you here? I don't want you here! what are you going to do to me? Can't you see I'm suffering- YOU'RE TOO CLOSE GET AWAY!

The man says something but William can't hear over the roaring crescendo of his own panic and the overwhelming urge to sob and scream and to fend off The Indtruder.

He can feel The Intruder right in front of him now. Too close. William thinks.

"What the hell happened to you?" The man- Intruder asks, tilting his head to the right. He light nudges William's side with his foot. "Oh man you're gunna look fantastic with the others." He says excitedly.

William wants to tell this man that he is a human being. He wants to tell him that he's here and he's awake and he's trapped but he can't. He wants to say so many things but he's unable to. Between his blinding terror and his torn vocal cords all verbal communication is practically obsolete.

So he sits there. His head pounding. His heart racing. The man reaches out and brushes a light hand against the outer layer of the costume.

William wants to scream.

The man reaches out and brushes a light hand against one of William's ribs.

William screams.

The man jumps back faster than a rabbit and stares at him in terror. "What the fuck?!" He screams at the robot. The man is trembling, terrified of what this monster is going to do to him. Of what this monster could do to him.

"Fucking voice box..." The Intruder mutters to himself.

Of course he thinks it's a voice box. Of course he does. William internally shuts his eyes, for he has no eyes. (They were ripped out of their sockets years ago.) There is no hope of getting out of here. Not with this man at least. He feels the man pet him on the head and hears him walk away.

And then there is quiet. Lovely, peaceful, familiar quiet.

The quiet, sadly, doesn't last long.

The next week there isn't just one man. There are four.

William hears them enter his room. Hears them talk about him. Hears them walk towards him. He feels the all too familiar jolt of panic in his chest again. And then he is being picked up.

He wants to kill them. Kill them all. Watch the life drown out of their eyes as he fashions a scarf around their nearly severed necks out of their own disembowled intestines. He wants to see them shriek in pain and agony because they are taking him away from his space.

In the back of his frantic mind he knows he should be grateful that he is at least getting out. But he isn't. He's scared.

Ch.2

He wakes up in a different room. This one is colder. He is also- for some unknown reason- standing upright. There is a sort of... beam or support bar that is keeping him standing. William can sense other objects beside him, though he can't tell what they are. He hears someone laugh. It is a child.

"Yeah, they said he got stuck in there, but obviously this isn't the actual guy."

The kids friend laughs. "That's fucking hilarious!" She says. "He actually got stuck? Did he die?"

"Nobody knows," says the first kid, "but probably."

William hears them walk away, and if he had eyes, he would be seeing bright, horrible, crimson red. His blood is rushing and all he can think is that his demise, his torture, is a joke. He wants to kill those kids. Maim them beyond repair- beyond recognition. He wants to see maggots fester in their disembowled caverns of a stomach. He wants to-

He hears other people walk by and at first he thinks he is on display, and then he knows he's on display. Why is he on display? His mind races as the panic replaces anger. He is being looked at, yet he can't see. He is being watched, yet can't gaze back in return. People are looking at him and he doesn't even know where he is.

"-Yeah, the attraction should be open in about a week." Says a man, cutting into William's frantic thoughts. The man is too close.

"-'Kay. Just keep your kids away from the animatronics 'till it is, alright? I wouldn't want them breaking something." A second man says. He has a vaguely southern accent and sounds mildly annoyed.

"Sure Bill, sure." The first man says.

"Good." Bill says, "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Alright." The other man says.

William hears both men leave and his fury is reignited at the thought of sharing a name with his jailers- with the people keeping him trapped in this horrific place. (Then again, it wasn't like he was exactly free sitting in a pile of dried blood in a dark abandoned pizzaria.)

God he hates his existence.

It is a few more hours before he hears something again. At this point he assumes it's around 11:00 or 12:00 o'clock.

He hears someone in a room a few halls down, it sounds like a man, and he is talking to himself. William can't make out what he's saying, but the voice sounds oddly familiar.

He hears someone familiar?

No.

That's impossible....

William moves his arm.

It hurts.

It hurts more than he has words to describe.

He moves his leg.

It hurts.

He unlatches himself from the support beam holding him up.

It hurts.

He takes a step forward before he can think about where he might be stepping. He falls off a short stage and crashes onto the ground.

A few stray spinglocks go off.

He hears himself give a pitiful cry. He can't help it. Everything hurts. Everything always hurts but this isn't stale, old pain, it's blinding. It is white hot, searing agony.

Yet he has a goal, and god be damned, he is a determined man.

He stands up, and that hurts too, but he grits his teeth and straightens his back.

He is standing now, and the fear of the unknown has returned. His breath quickens, and he hears it in rasps. It is a horrible sound, really, not unlike a balloon losing its air. This comparison does not help calm him down in the slightest.

He turns his head and it does nothing but hurt.

He can't see, touch, or taste, and his sense of smell is choked with his own blood.

Hearing is the most reliable.

So he walks slowly in the direction of the man's voice, his heart pounding because he doesn't know where the fuck he is.

He runs into something.

And then another thing.

And then another.

He doesn't know if he can cry anymore, but good lord if he can he ought to.

Inwardly; he is terrified. He doesn't know where he is, where he is going, or where he was originally. He is completely disoriented and his only alignment is the strangers voice that sounds vaguely familiar.

Outwardly; this is humiliating. He was a genius- still is a genius- and yet he is forced to stumble about, blindly running into things and cursing his own existence.

He is getting closer to the man, he can hear the mumbling getting louder. There is muttering... but there is also... heavy breathing? Like the man got jumpscared? And... sirens?

William walks faster now, yet his heart continues to pound in what is left of chest. He walks faster, but he wishes he didn't.

Eventually, his hand grazes against glass and he jumps. He can hear the man much better, and the man sounds terrified.

The man sounds very familiar now.

The man sounds like him.

The man sounds like Micheal.

And all of a sudden William is enveloped in a thick veil of terror as he processes the fact that his son is here. Why is his son here? He has to get closer.

He has to.

He keeps his hand against the glass and he nearly runs. He stumbles as the wall gives out to a doorway. He hears a gasp of terror and... it is undoubtably Micheal.

He walks toward the sound. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a horrible sound. It is more of a shriek really.

He hears another shriek. It is not his.

Something hard and metal connects with his head and the last thing he hears is:

"What the fuck is that thing?"

I hope y'all enjoyed! Please let me know if you want more!