#{ because like. i had been sporadically going into and out of fnaf at the time }

[curseofbreadbear]

do you ever just remember a funny/dumb au you had and both laugh over + miss it?????

[wvbaandtheboys]

. im really not helping my case here am i. anyways though FNAF LORE!! PO FNAF LORE TIME!! SOUND THE FUCKIN SIREN!! IT'S TIME TO GO!! 🚨 yes its mostly kinda not serious either also its kinda dumb so let's share.

So, for the then upcoming anniversary of the WVBA's existence (in 2010), they got together with Dreamland to brainstorm something special to commemorate the boxers.

Eventually, they settle on making replicas of both the Wii and SPO casts. But no just any replicas, no. Robots, intelligent robots that were going to be almost perfect clones of their original human counterparts. So, development started with Dreamland's (rather tech advanced) robotics department to make that shit happen. And well, none of the boxers were told of this project because it was supposed to be a surprise for everyone.

But supposedly, it wasn't all too secret. Some boxers may or may not have reported seeing a few pairs of glowing eyes in the dark of the studio, and hearing voices eerily similar to their own... Anyhow! On the day of the anniversary, the robots were unveiled for everyone to see. And boy, were they magnificently made. They could move around very fluently, listen, respond, you name it! Even their personalities were faithful to the boxers they were based upon. The responses were... mixed. The boxers as a whole when the bots first came out didn't seem too pleasantly surprised with their robotic doppelgängers. But, overtime, some warmed up to the idea enough to express positive feedback and even interact with their bots. Some were iffy about their bots but didn't complain. And some just stayed disturbed by the hulking metal mounds that sounded, acted and looked like them.

The public, though? They ate them all up. Their love and adoration for these replicas was plain as day. They racked up just as much popularity as the real ones in their own special anniversary exhibit. So ya know, they were a total smash hit. But then, strange things started happening.

One would be odd, unheard-of noises usually at night, around midnight. They were sporadic yet frightening, and no sources would ever be found (despite sounding like voices.) But it was also noted that sometimes, according to late night workers, that the ro-boxers would be slightly adjusted in their positioning. Usually stood straight upright, occasionally it would seem that their eyes or heads had moved...

Secondly would be random objects having been tampered with or broken in some way being discovered in the morning by boxers and staff. Mirrors would be shattered or cracked, desks or tables flipped over, storage boxers toppled to the ground, you name it, it probably happened. But no one fessed up to anything.

Finally, the testimonies of some staff or even boxers that stayed after midnight would report that they felt uncomfortable in the presence of the robots. They described this feeling of discomfort as "feeling as though eyes were burrowing into them, or as if something was observing them with malicious/violent intent." The bots were even checked by the mechanics who made them for their peace of mind, but everything was intact. Nothing was wrong with their programming. In the rise of these concerns, an application opened up for a night guard to work the night shift from midnight to 7am. And surprisingly, a certain blonde haired bird filled in the application. That's right, our beloved pal Peter signed up to take the night shift. Why? Cause he thought it'd be interesting to play detective and see what was all the fuss was about regarding the bots. I mean, there's no way something was off with them, right? They were just bots. But oh, how wrong he'd turn out to be.

To explain the way the robots work: The ro-boxers are programmed to act like the boxers, yes, but they have a certain script they run by during opening hours called the Showtime Program. The Showtime Program is a mostly pre-set catalogue of phrases, actions and other basic interactions that a ro-boxer is to do during the daytime. Certain actions or phrases from a fan may trigger one of these responses. For example, if you were to ask Glass Joe "What is your name?" or took a flash-on photo of Great Tiger. Joe would say the classic line (or variation of the line) "Bonjour! Bonjour! Je suis Glass Joe!" while Tiger's gem would flicker, and he would pose for the photo.

But, after the exhibit closes, the ro-boxers are normally left on during the night as they have a similar case to the robots from FNAF where they don't want the boxers to lock up their joints from not moving. They're only supposed to move slightly though, never leave their areas. It's more like they're stretching. But at the same time, the Showtime Program ends when the place closes, which leaves the boxers with a completely clean script of their own. They can do whatever they please. Whatever. They. Want. The ro-boxers are very intelligent contrary to some belief. They're not bland replicas to the bone. They may still act like their human counterparts while they're on the prowl... but believe me, they're not friendly after hours. Don't let their joyful dialogue fool you. They're coming for you, Peter. So you'd better be ready to defend yourself. If they get in, they'll put you out. Permanently.

[dragongirlz1]

We Want Out

Another song fic bc I found more FNaF songs that I like. Includes my GlitchTrap/Malhare before Spring found out that how he acted was a coding error/glitch. Bolded text is the song. The song is “We want out” by DAGames, and for those wondering, DaGames: Freddy, JT Machinima: Spring (She also takes some of DAGames’ lines), Dan Bull: Golden, InuTrash & BSlick: Mangle. I’ll also use italics for Golden and underlines for Spring when I can’t really find a way to differentiate them without really forcing it.

---

“Hello? Hello, hello! I’d like to get you settled in for your first night. Things don’t seem as they should in our defence. But most importantly, they bite.”

Spring wasn’t sure how it had happened, but Malhare had somehow taken control of all of them. Being forced to the back of her own mind was nothing new to her, but knowing William wasn’t in control either actually scared her more. She couldn’t even hear the other anymore, and she never thought that she’d actually miss his voice. She chastised herself for getting so used to it, despite knowing after over 30 years of being stuck together it would have happened regardless. She was forced to just watch as Malhare moved her around, as well as moving the others. He’d occasionally release his control over them, but always lingered in Spring’s mind, he didn’t care what they did or said during these times, likely using it as a way to make it seem like nothing was strange to anyone that saw them.

So let me bite you, don’t want to fight you, I wanna carve you within my eternal gratitude. “You’re our friend in this tomb, what can we do? Tick, tock, boom. We’ve got it out for you.” Freddy sang, glancing at the new nightguard that was too far into the pizzeria to attempt to leave. They tried anyways, but Spring was quick to drape an arm over their shoulders to stop them. None of the animatronics were in good shape, most of them looked like they were in their withered forms, but Spring didn’t have one, her robotic arm looked like it was torn to shreds, metal casing forced open with wires spilling out of it, her rips were open with the ones around her mouth looking the.. Best? Worst? There were a few stitches left, but a wire stuck out of one of the holes, and she wasn’t sure how it got there. “And with a little budge, a little more touch. We have no grudge, simple as such. But your coffin is ready for you, take a slice of doom.” Spring sang, grinning as best as she could.

“So please, oh please, don’t run from us. You’re a friend to us. You’re part of our redesign! There’s no denying it, we’re precise in it, our bites depict it. We’ve got a fire, fire burning for you!” Freddy went on, then Spring took over. “We’re one big happy family!” It’s a pizza party now “You will be mine for eternity!” For it’s his game we’re playing now. Freddy took over again. “If we had more than words,” All of them joined in. “We’d want out!” Spring again. “But he’s got us hooked, brought back to tragedy.” Freddy. “Our tomb is fried, lost in our hive. You’re still alive. But as we find you, we will ignite you tonight.”

The nightguard had given up struggling, listening to the song, as if he had figured out what they were saying. Freddy continued. “We are creations, manipulations, we have a deal with the damned and a sound desperation. We may never escape, this is the fate, digging our graves all before it’s too late.” Golden, who had been mostly quiet the entire song, decided to join in. “But if we’re going down standing our ground, let the party impound. Make some noise, you will be found. And as the old saying goes; are you friend or foe? No one knows!”

Freddy picked up the song. “So stay away. Unless you want to be our prey.” Spring took over. “You’re part of me, bottom line. You’re trapped and I’ll admit, we tend to commit. We’re a bunch of misfits!” Freddy sang the final bit. “We’ve got a fire, fire burning for you!” He then let Spring sing the chorus again, then he sang the post chorus. The nightguard appeared more upset than scared at this point, but Spring (wrongly) assumed it was because she just told them that they were part of her, which, as an animatronic that looked like they could fall apart at any moment, she assumed wasn’t the best thing to hear.

“Hold up, hold up, got a story so unholy. Matrimony has a place in our sanctimony.” Golden started. “We weren’t the same since the day our eternity faded, within mechanical debauchery and carnal dismay.” Spring continued. “Couldn’t even count to ten, when was my birthday? I can’t remember, only memories of death began.” A lie, the twins remembered the most of their old lives, and even remembered when their birthday was. “Crawling up my arms, well, what used to be arms, but now infested by a torture chamber, biolistic danger.” “So don’t be surprised to find, we bind with kind minds.” Spring’s grip on the nightguard strengthened. “Gonna hurt ya but you can’t scream bloody murder.” “Hey, you misheard her, she’s got beaks that’ll push you further.” “Bang! Got the hot seat, party’s over.” They exclaimed together. “I’m sorry, this is what we do, we didn’t choose this.” Golden apologized. “Don’t diss, just like us; you won’t be missed.” Spring hissed bitterly. “But I’ve got half a mind to know you’ll panic. Your body parts sporadic.” “We got impatient for your brains, can’t scratch it.” “Let me have it, gonna grab it, I have nothing left to lose, dang it!” The nightguard managed to squirm out of Spring’s hold this time, but she made no movement to try and catch them again. “You can hide, justified but we’ve got our genocide.” Again, they spoke at the same time. “Now it’s time you die, we can bite!”

Mangle was the one to grab them, sticking to her animatronic form. “I believe we’ve met before, I’m supposed to tear you limb from limb-” which meant Malhare knew the nightguard was there, but hadn’t taken control of them yet. “-step inside my deadly sin. I can breathe the air is thick with dread, but now it’s over we can ascend, we shall begin with your end.”

Freddy, Spring, and Golden all sang one after another, all now trying to scare off the nightguard. “We’re one big happy family.” “Gonna hurt ya but you can’t scream bloody murder.” “You will be mine for eternity.” “Bang! Got the hot seat, party’s over.” “If we had more than words-” “We’d want out!” “But he’s got us hooked, brought back to tragedy.” “Let me have it, gonna grab it, I’ve got nothing left to lose, dang it!” “We’re one big happy family.” “I’m sorry, this is what we do, we didn’t choose this.” “You will be mine for eternity.” “Don’t diss, just like us, you won’t be missed.” “If we had more than words-” “We’d want out!” “But he’d got us trapped, brought back to tragedy. Our tomb is fried, lost in our hive, you’re still alive.” “You can hide, justified but we got our genocide.” “But as we find you, we will ignite you tonight.” The nightguard finally got the hint and fled, the change in tone being enough.

Mangle turned to face them, causing them all to freeze. She had purple eyes, unlike his usual yellow eyes and white with black sclera. “I’m supposed to tear you limb from limb, step inside my deadly sin. I can breathe, the air is thick with dread, but now it’s over we can ascend.” We’ve got a fire, fire burning for you. They were in trouble, and they knew it. But before any of them could argue, Spring decided she’d take the blame. Mal didn’t care what they did, as long as it wasn’t warning nightguards or technicians.

[dreadhaus-literature]

{Story} “Ready or Not...”

“Here I come.”

Monica stopped dead in her tracks, realizing all too late she’d turned from one Haus hallway of warmth and familiarity and stepped into a nightmare. The lighting was low, sporadic, and though she herself was gifted, a vampire made of the night itself, there was something unnatural about the darkness that seeped through this haunted hallway.

There was a running joke amongst the Family, that the Haus hallways shifted and moved on their own, so you’d walk one hallway one night and the next morning the same hallway would lead somewhere entirely different. Considering the amount of magic and technology that flowed through the Haus one might be inclined to believe it; Monica had never asked. Like most of her Frenzied kin, she relied on her sense of direction to get her in the nearest vicinity...of someone who would be happy to help her get where she needed to go. There were no shortage of wanting, helpful hands--and if she was feeling stubborn, well, then she’d wander the hallways until JARVIS politely chimed overhead, “Well done, Miss, the kitchen is just up ahead.” To let her know she’d reached the room she was looking for...but it was also to let her know he’d been quietly watching her, to make sure she got where she needed to go.

In hindsight, inviting everyone she knew and loved to live in the same Haus created more than just one monstrous problem; she hadn’t exactly considered just how massive it would make the place she’d have to navigate.

But this space...this space she didn’t immediately recognize. It seemed...vaguely familiar, at first. There were toys on the floor; a rolling dinosaur cart, a telephone with a face on it, and if Monica squinted she could make out the faint outline of what was likely a stuffed animal on it’s side about halfway down the hall. The checker-bordered walls resembled the Nursery; crayon drawings made by pudgy little fingers depicting picnics, birthday parties, knights and castles, and even kiddie games like leapfrog and follow the leader! Stepping a little closer, Monica’s bright green eyes took in the crayon strokes and realized why this all now seemed familiar--the leader, playing with a group of six stick-figure children, was Freddy Fazbear! This hallway looked like the Pizzeria! At once, Monica’s shoulders relaxed. She knew where she was! This hallway would lead her to the Pizzeria with the animatronics!

Had she taken a wrong turn, then? Monica was about to take a step back from the drawing when something in the corner of the paper caught her eye and she snapped her head up.

There, at the top of the drawing, was a golden bunny, peeking out from behind a tree.

Watching.

It was...unsettling, to see the golden figure peering around the tree at the children, watching them with eyes a little too big and manic for it’s cartoonish face. Only half it’s face was visible from around the wide tree trunk but Monica still knew who it was; after all, she’d watched all the theories about FNAF, she knew who that was.

The Purple Guy.

Glitchtrap.

She knew what he’d done to the children in the Pizzeria, it was his fault the animatronics went rogue in the first place. Looking at this picture now, in a dark, empty hallway she hadn’t meant to find, it sent a slight shiver down her spine. A child serial killer, staring at a group of children, just out of sight of Freddy’s watchful eye. She knew, without a second picture to prove it, that the next time the children played follow the leader, there would be five children.

Not six.

A sudden flash of yellow entered the corner of Monica’s eye and she turned, a slight shriek slipping past her lips before she could stop it. There, now illuminated at the end of the hallway, was a purple curtain splashed with silver stars. The yellow she’d seen had disappeared inside, as the curtain itself was still rocking side to side from the hurried movement. Monica stared at it, transfixed and too horrified to move, as the curtain slowly stilled it’s pendulum swinging until just a few inches separated one side of the curtain from the other. Without needing to call out, without really needing to use any of her senses at all, Monica knew something was behind the curtain.

Had she a beating heart, it would have stopped all over again.

As it were, fear was a tangible lump in her throat, making her lungs freeze without the air needed to fill them there was much room in her chest for icicles of terror to grow and spread like a virus. The longer she stood and watched, the louder the silence of the hallway and slowly...slowly...a face started to appear in the split in the curtain. Not just any face.

A golden bunny’s face.

That manic smile was stretched too wide, his purple eyes just a bit too greedy, hungry for some unnamed satisfaction that made him butcher the most innocent of us all, as if he fed off what he’d never had himself. Monica didn’t know if anyone knew the true reason behind the serial killer’s motives, if he just did it because children were easy targets or if there was a deeper meaning to the blood on his hands. All she knew was that Springtrap, and now Glitchtrap, were allowed in the Haus because Monica and Dot agreed it was better to keep an eye on them than let their troublesome spirits roam free.

Staring at Glitchtrap now, that terrible smile peeking at her from behind a curtain, Monica wasn’t so sure “better” was the word she’d use.

Some part of her wanted to run. To turn and run, to find someone, anyone at this point, so she wouldn’t have to face the monstrous bunny at the end of the hall. But she was rooted to the spot, staring into Glitchtrap’s eyes, some part of her very aware that if she took her eyes off him, he’d move--and since Glitchtrap was a virtual animatronic, a horrific virus come to life, he didn’t abide by the natural law. He didn’t need to run to catch her. He could manipulate the environment to suit himself, much like a virus manipulates it’s host to make itself more comfortable. So what...could she, should she do?

Glitchtrap didn’t move, not for what felt like an eternity but when he did, it was only to straighten up, one arm sweeping out to lift the curtain and Monica couldn’t help but notice the tops of his ears brush at the ceiling of the hallway. The animatronics were extremely large, designed that way, and Glitchtrap had modeled himself after them with that in mind. That bright purple vest and bow-tie  encasing golden flesh-like fur gave away that infamous terrible, awful nature displayed in that maniacal grin. It was a clue who one was dealing with, the Purple Guy, if the smile and overall creepy aura weren’t warning signs enough.

With his free hand, Glitchtrap slowly waved at Monica.

Running her tongue over her lips, an action Glitchtrap caught with those unblinking eyes, Monica...slowly waved back, hoping her fingers weren’t trembling.

Encouraged, noticeably so, Glitchtrap turned his waving fingers over, palm up, in a universally understood gesture--

Come here.

The curtain was lifted in invitation with his other hand but Monica didn’t move. She wasn’t a child, and as far as she knew Glitchtrap only killed children (not that she...was ever in danger from anyone or anything in the Haus, but it’s hard to tell yourself that staring something like Glitchtrap in the face) but she still wasn’t too keen on following Glitchtrap behind that curtain. Who knew what was back there? He’d promised the kids a “special present” for their birthdays and look what that got them--dead. It got them dead. So instead Monica, as an adult with a logical mind, shook her head.

Glitchtrap stopped beckoning, slowly tilting his head to the side. A few seconds of tense silence passed before Monica heard that deep, rumbling garble that passed as his voice. It was similar to a voice modulator from the old Windows 98 computers, the speech/talk function? ...Except, if it operated on batteries...and the batteries were running low. It was slow, creeping, akin to a corpse dragging itself across the linoleum floor.

“Don’t you...want to play?”

Glitchtrap didn’t sound disappointed, he sounded amused, but Monica heard he always sounded like that. Anyone else who had run-ins with this maniacal bunny complained he always sounded like he was laughing at you, or at some joke he’d heard about you but wasn’t going to share. Right now, it was as if he could tell Monica’s fear was like a block of ice in her belly.

“I...I have to go to sleep.” Monica had paused at the beginning of her sentence, refusing to let her voice stammer. She’d been feeling very rebellious and unaffected and goddamnit, Glitchtrap wasn’t going to be the one to change that!

“Play with me first. Then...Then I’ll tuck you in.” Glitchtrap closed one massive fist in an audible creaking sound, like a latex glove. “Nice...and tight.”

Monica did not want to be affected by Glitchtrap but the vivid imagery of this nightmarish living stuffed animal tucking her in, his grinning face looming over her as his long, seeking fingers slipped beneath the covers to touch her skin--yeah, no. Uh uh. Nope.

She shook her head. “The Dreadful’s are waiting for me--”

“Albert Wesker is...waiting for you.” Glitchtrap teased, showing even he had been watching the gameplay from earlier tonight--but what was far more likely was that he, as a program himself, was along for the simulated ride on the rigs. No one really knew the extent that Glitchtrap was around; Dot mentioned not caring as long as he was occupied with something other than harming children.

Monica was finding she cared quite a bit what this creepy bunny was doing with his time.

Pursing her lips, felt her temper flaring slightly at being teased, or rather, reminded that her Daddy was waiting for her to answer for her sharp little tongue. It wasn’t her fault he died! But then...he wasn’t dead. She had a feeling she was going to be reminded of that fact over and over and...over again.

“Find Dot,” Monica shot at Glitchtrap, arms folding under her breasts. “I’m sure she’ll play with you.”

“Not asking Dot.” Glitchtrap’s deep, strange voice was almost sing-songy. “I’m asking...you.”

“Well I said no.”

That should have been the end of it. Perhaps with anyone outside the Haus, or one of the members of the Good Boy Club, it would be, but Glitchtrap didn’t fit either of those descriptions. And when Monica turned as if to leave, well, the mania...sprang forth.

Like a trap.

In an instant, Monica was staring up, up, up at the grinning, purple-eyed killer now looming over her, crowding her, invading her space. She felt her spine bend, allowing her to try and regain some ground but he bent over her, his arms seemingly longer than her entire body and those legs kept him towering over her as he crowded her space. She tried to take a few steps back, realizing too late it was putting her toward the curtain so the only other option was to put her back flat against the wall. Now all she could see was Glitchtrap and he seemed particularly tickled about that. His grin, if possible, was wider than usual.

For a time, he didn’t speak. Long, golden fingers busied themselves in caresses that made Monica very aware of the vulnerable position she was in; he stroked her hair, her cheek, ran his thumb over her lips, down her neck, along her sides--all the while those eyes drank her in, devoured her, left her feeling as if she had not a single scrap of clothing between herself and him. She’d never tried to read his mind but if she had, she’d find that’s exactly what Glitchtrap wanted. After all, he was still a man under all that fur.

“You think...I listen to the word...no?” The rumble came from lips that never moved, as if Glitchtrap’s voice came straight from his throat. So close it was a husky whisper, the inflection of his question was almost obscene in it’s implications. “The...children said no, too.”

There wasn’t even an implication there--Monica knew what he meant.

“Them...I killed but you...?” Glitchtrap shook his head, one long, floppy ear sliding along Monica’s hair he was so close. “I’m going...to savor you.”

Glitchtrap walked his long fingers up Monica’s middle like one might do to a baby.

“Piece...by piece...inch...by inch...” Up his fingers went, until he booped her gently, right on her nose. “Forever and ever and ever.”

There was no mistaking the insanity, the mania, the desire to claim something that was not his to have but he would not be denied. Monica likely didn’t even remember but she’d found him cute, even just once--he’d heard her coo over him, enjoyed the way he danced through the Pizzeria after each of his kills. No one had ever found him...cute, before. That was all it took, a single spark like a match and suddenly his afterlife had a very different purpose to it. It was one thing, to snuff out a young life and exert his power, his dominance and control with the squeeze of his fingers or the slicing of a knife but it was quite another to throw love into the mix and suddenly Glitchtrap was now only interested in one thing.

And like those poor, poor children found out all those years ago, Monica was finding out now--

“I’m going to count to ten...” Glitchtrap slowly, slowly backed up, Monica’s hair sliding between his fingers as he did so, before moving that same large hand to cover his ever unblinking, devoted eyes. “And then...ready or not, here I come~”

--His was a trap she had no hope of ever escaping.