#aftonpat

[world-of-ezraprisc]

I'm not locked here with you...

YOU'RE LOCKED IN WITH ME!!!

[the-matpat-ever]

FNAF MUSICAL MOVIE SPOILERS

DAWKO DAWKO ITS DAWKO.

OMG DAWKO.

DAWKO IS FUCKING MADPAD

DHEUSTA KINDA...

HERE ME OUT

ALSO ALSO

ASH CAMEO. AND AND FREDDY SOUNDS SO FUCKING SAD WHEN HE CALLS NATE:(((( MY POOR BABYYYYY

AND MATPATS HANDS??? THEY LOOK SO COOLLL

CRYING RN

I WAS SO SHOCKED WHEN I SAW WILLIAM TRYING TO HELP THE CHILD

LIKE

I HAD TO TAKE A MINUTE TO PROCESS IT BECAUSE THE FNAF FANDOM KINDA JUST...OVERLOOKS THE WHOLE CHILD ABDUCTION BECAUSE ITS NOT ANYTHING NEW BUT HOLY SHIT

ELIZABETH AND BABY FUCKIN DIED

NOOOOO

LIZZY MY POOR BABYYYY

GLITCHTRAP GO KILL YOURSELF

[lexusinsannus]

so bendypat and aftonpat canonically exist in the same universe.

there are two matpats in this universe. who are both business managers of a facility that is responsible for many injuries and deaths and is a walking lawsuit.

random encounters is a crazy place

and i will be drawing bendypat and aftonpat meeting

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Day 1: Infection

(Disclaimer: the character in this story does not belong to me. MadPat/AftonPat/Phone Guy is the property of Random Encounters.)

(The end of this story was actually inspired by some fanart courtesy of the amazing @insane4fandoms ! I would link it here…if it wasn’t already hidden in plain sight~ Hope you’ve been feeling better, friendo! Also, thanks for remembering one of my special fanmade scrunglies yet again, lol)

(Trigger Warnings:  blood/gore, body horror, degloving/skin-flaying, mentions of murder/death, implied dismemberment/self-mutilation, nightmares, paranoia, weapons. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

(Note: the events of this story take place right after the end of FNAF The Musical: Shadows of Agony. Which means, of course, that it also takes place a while after a certain collab I've been working on lately...)

Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7

___

Cold. 

He isn’t sure how he can hear his teeth chattering over the drumbeat of his heart. 

The air is so, so, so damn cold. 

He doesn’t understand—he’s still wearing his precious work-suit. Even after all these years, the tan-colored fabric has remained soft, somehow always seeming to keep him insulated despite how thin it is. 

And yet, it’s like there isn’t any cotton barrier between him and the air at all. The chill is actively seeping right through his skin to settle in his bones. 

The corridors are so dark. 

Although he’s never felt remorse for his actions (and knows by instinct that he never will), he still curses every single time he complained about the obnoxious humbuzz emitted by the light panels installed up above. 

There’s nothing above him anymore. Not even an actual ceiling. Just a still, shadowy void. Even if he was able to climb up the walls, he wouldn’t dare. That darkness is palpable. If he were to get close enough, something would reach up from the other side and drag him into it.

The only reason he can still see anything is a faint glow that flickers just up ahead. A plethora of shadows practically lick at the walls right around the corner… 

Fire. 

There’s fire somewhere nearby. Warm, dancing, beautiful fire.

Then again, “nearby” apparently isn’t all that accurate. 

Because he’s been able to see that tantalizing light all this time. He’s been able to smell the smoke, to hear the crackling and popping all this time.

And yet, whenever the fire seems to be at its closest, whenever he finally manages to round that corner…

He doesn’t find a burning pit, doesn’t find any sort of kindling. 

He just finds. Another. GODDAMN. HALLWAY THAT STRETCHES ON FOR MILES WITH  MORE FIRELIGHT TO TAUNT HIM AT THE VERY END.

The black-and-white checkerboard floor tiles have all been swallowed up by a shroud of scrap metal.

Bits and pieces of animatronic endoskeletons, their once silvery material now covered in rust.

Every few feet or so, warped arms and legs and eyes and sets of teeth peek out of the ruin, framed by twisted wires that still spark now and then.

The robotic nature of it all truly makes this place feel like a hellish combination of junkyard and slaughterhouse. 

A screeching, grinding cacophony is fueled with each and every footfall. How he can still hear his chattering teeth above even that, he has no idea. 

It’s all made worse by the fact that the corridors are so narrow. 

He can’t move an inch without his elbows knocking against the painted plaster. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to feel the constant aches surging through his tendons if he was walking, but he just can’t afford to be slow right now. 

The air keeps getting colder and colder—to the point that he starts to see his own breath. Small, steamy clouds pour out of his mouth, disappearing less than a second later. 

He’s been sprinting for hours now. 

Why the hell isn’t he sweating? 

Why aren’t his lungs burning if they’re already more-or-less threatening to burst any second now? 

Why does his blood seem to carry both the consistency and temperature of a fucking slushie?!

He skids to an abrupt halt, just barely keeping his balance as he pushes what’s left of his hands—the stumps wrapped up in layers of bloodied bandage—against the walls.

…A new sound has joined the cacophony both in-and-outside his head. 

A splashing, churning sound. 

And it’s echoing from somewhere above him. 

He glances up just in time to see ripples stretching out on the surface of that inky void. As though something inside is stirring in its sleep, struggling to wake. 

He throws himself down, burrowing through the metallic waste until he feels enough of it slide into place over his back. 

He is hidden. Not safe—he’ll never, NEVER be safe after all the things he’s done—but hidden.

He shifts his neck, not wanting to move any more than that. He needs to keep watching the surface, but too much movement will only ensure that they catch him sooner.

Above him, something heavy touches down on top of the wreckage. The rusty pieces are all jostled in a rhythmic pattern. 

He lays there, muscles tense, feeling the blood rush through his head, waiting for what feels like hours. 

But nothing starts digging toward him. Nothing ever pushes his cover away. 

Finally, FINALLY, the new noise starts to fade. The jagged, uneven footfalls above move past him, getting quieter and quieter every inch of the way.

Once they disappear completely, he flounders, moving in a way that’s reminiscent of both climbing and swimming. He surges up, determined to get back on his feet and keep running, keep looking for that precious fire. 

…But his head never breaks the surface. 

As his arms sweep the layers of junk away, he only finds more waiting to take its place. 

He feels icy claws drip down his spine—he’d only buried deep enough to cover himself! That was it! How the hell are there suddenly miles between him and those hallways?!

In his haste, a section of his bandages gets caught on the jagged edge of a robotic hand—the way its lifeless fingers are curled resemble the branches of a long-dead tree.

He snarls, pausing his movement to yank his arm back. But as he does, at the very last second…the bandage tears, allowing the sharp rust to scrape the already marred flesh of his wrist. 

Fear cuts through anger like a hot knife through butter.

He howls in pain, trying again and again to free his arm. But the more he moves, the more his now ruined bandage gets tangled up in the rust. The more exposed his stump becomes.

All at once, the newly bare skin starts to hiss. Wisps of discolored vapor begin drifting out of the wound—only a few at first, thin and short. But in a matter of seconds, larger clouds start flooding out, alongside a stream of dark red ooze.

He can only watch and scream as his skin keeps burning, keeps blistering, keeps bubbling. Flesh and muscle peel away in ribbons, sloughing off of him until the rough, splintered remains of his wrist-bones are revealed. 

And it doesn’t stop there.

Like shed scales being pulled away from a snake’s coils, the sizzling rot proceeds further up his forearm. His skin continues to twist and melt away. Now he can see the glistening shapes of his radius and ulna; they’re being unveiled slowly, little-by-little, inch-by-inch.

Even as he thrashes and flails and shrieks, he keeps aiming for the surface.

There has to be a surface! There has to be relatively fresh air somewhere outside all the rust! The world hasn’t just caved in on itself all because he wanted to hide—!

He feels more searing pain start to concentrate on his shoulder.

And then his neck…

…his jaw…

…his EYE-SOCKET…

___

What could only be described as an intense Charlie Horse sensation wracked the space between Mad’s eyes as they snapped open.

That sensation then slithered down to his throat, forcing him to cough and gasp as he writhed against the old mattress. 

He had to roll onto his side, had to use his elbow to prop himself up. It took a couple long, agonizing minutes before his breathing became steady enough. 

Heart still hammering painfully against his sternum, he stared down at his wrist-stumps. 

The bandage-layers were still splattered with crimson stains, but they were whole. No rips or tears to be found. 

The jagged mess of his skin in that area was still covered. The bleeding had stopped a long time ago. 

No organic steam, no hissing, no peeling…

With a heavy sigh (and much more effort than he’d care to admit), Mad manuvered himself to sit up, his legs now sliding over the edge, letting his boots thump against the old hardwood floor. 

His vision was quick to adjust to the darkness; this building had lost all electricity about a month ago, but that didn’t bother him too much. Besides, the moonlight filtering through that cracked window in the corner certainly helped. 

He eyes kept wandering back to his stumps as he glanced about the decaying room. He snarled at the thick spiderwebs that clung to the ceiling—what were the odds of one of those eight-legged creatures scuttling in-between the gauze and spinning a little egg-sac somewhere in his flesh..?

Mad shook his head feverishly, shudders pushing their way along his ribcage. Bright red glinted out of the corner of his eye: that wonderful, deadly, genius new toy he’d put together just the other night was sitting on the nightstand. Right where he’d left it. 

Mad stood, and as his shadow fell over it, the weapon's material seemed to glint even more. Almost like it was waiting for his next move. 

Taking a deep breath, he cradled the flame-chain (yes, that was what he was calling it. Patent-pending, bitches) and hefted it onto his back, the straps fitting around his shoulders perfectly.

Though this dead motel—the recently-condemned place that just so happened to be only a few blocks away from Freddy Fazbear’s—had made for good shelter earlier, he couldn’t afford to stay any longer. For all he knew, a construction crew would be en route to tear this place down and start building something else on its bones first thing tomorrow morning. 

He needed a new hideout. Somewhere else to stay before he could make a plan to get back to the pizzeria. 

Licking his lips, Mad threw the room’s door open and stormed down the rotting corridor. 

Adrenaline started to fester in his lungs as he realized that he already had somewhere else to go. 

He had someone to stay with. 

He had a favor to cash in…

@sammys-magical-au @lexusinsannus @im-a-weird0 @b-is-in-the-closet @that-bat

[yourthoughtsjim]

Fuck, I'm really 😈 for AftonPat. Wanting him to rail me 💦. He's just so... (also i want him to whisper in my ears)

[Can't wait for the Musical tho, July is pretty big for Theorists.]

The OG Mat ego! I love Mad with all my heart. I have an HC that him and Ness are brothers. If you want to know what I think of him, here is where you should look.

He would absolutely use someone's voice kink against them

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

I really love what you did with the blood here! Awesome work!!!

hands are overrated anyway

[the-matpat-ever]

THIS HAS NO RIGHT TO BE SO FREAKY

HENRY AND NATE ARE GETTING FREAKY AT FREDDY'S‼️/J

"LICK MY GLOVE"

WHAT

DO YOU JUST CASUALLY SAY THAT TO UR EMPLOYYEES????

NATE JUST

CRAWLS ON THE TABLE

DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THIS

HENRY IS A FA-

WHO SAID THAT.

...

[world-of-ezraprisc]

are we both going crazy over fnaf musical legally *looks at you like this 🥺*

What do you think?

[lexusinsannus]

"i love aftonpat!!" and this is aftonpat

Ladies and gentlemen, William "the kids are fine and wanna come back to freddy's!!" Afton everyone

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

IT'S FINALLY DONE. OH GOD THIS IS MY VERY FIRST CRACK-CROSSOVER I'M SCARED—

(Lol, don't worry, I'm kidding. . .well, actually half-kidding, let's say)

It's usually pretty damn hard for me to keep stuff short, but I suppose I gave it the ol' college try. . .I hope you enjoy this!

___

Terminal Case of the Ol' Switcheroo [Part 1]

(Disclaimer: only one of the EgoPats in this snippet belongs to me. For more information about Caliban, go here. And if you'd like to learn about the mob he works for, go here.)

(One more thing: I’ve actually written a full character analysis on the dynamic between Mad and Caliban. If you’re interested, please feel free to check it out here.)

(Trigger Warnings: blood/gore, knives/blades, implied kidnapping, implied violence, talk of murder/death, cannibalism, mentions of illegal business, eating/drinking, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Epilogue

___

“W-wait, hold on—” All the screaming inside Ness’ head seemed to fold in on itself, ever-so-slightly muffled as he squinted up at his captor. “Have. . .have we met before?”

“Possibly in Michigan,” Mr. Sharp Teeth mused, chuckling at the new confusion on Ness’ face; clearly this guy was the type who enjoyed really obscure stuff. He then gave pause, his sly grin fading away as he tilted his head and squinted right back. A couple seconds passed by before his eyes widened, before something flickered on his face. 

“Ah—no! No, we haven’t,” Mr. Sharp Teeth reiterated, clearing his throat and shaking his head in spite of the fact that it was obviously already too late for denial. “Definitely don’t remember you from anywhere. Nope, you’re not ringing any bells at all. Sorry about that.”

More alarm bells started ringing, but somehow they didn’t stop Ness from blurting, “Are you sure? I mean, I’ve been wrong before, but—you look familiar to me.”

The surprise on Mr. Sharp Teeth’s expression morphed into panic. But then, that panic didn’t last long before something much darker and more desperate chased it away.

“Alright, let me rephrase: I’d better not look familiar to you,”  he explained, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes. “Being recognizable isn’t always a good thing in my line of work. And if you can somehow recognize me more than I can afford to let you, then things just won’t go well for either of us.” 

He leaned closer, knuckles turning white as he gripped Ness’ shoulder. “Get the picture?”

Ness’ instincts shrieked for him to back away. Actually, scratch that, his spine was trying its damnedest to break out of his skin and go somewhere less tense. But thanks to the bindings, all he could do was lower his head to show cautious, frightened respect. 

“Yes, I-I’ve got it,” Ness stammered. “I understand, I swear!”

“Good.” Mr. Sharp Teeth’s eyes drilled into him for a few more long, harsh seconds before he let out a little sigh and nodded, pulling away to resume pacing the concrete floor. 

A shiver raced up Ness’ spine with disrespectful speed. The cacophony in his mind hadn’t exactly tapered down at all, but it still seemed to partially give way to a sardonic little voice that chided him for playing all those horror games that revolved around retail workers having their night-shifts go from bad to worse. The fact that he’d perfectly fit the bill for one of those helpless protagonists even before this happened really didn’t do his mood any favors. 

After a long, uncomfortable few minutes, he decided to pipe up again. 

“. . .I’ve lived in a lot of rough places,” Ness coughed, his voice quiet and careful.

Mr. Sharp Teeth glanced at him. “So?”

“So, I–I know the score,” Ness reiterated. “I don’t know everything about your. . .your type of business, but I still know the basics. I know when and how to keep my mouth shut.”

“Sure you do,” Mr. Sharp Teeth hummed, though a teensy bit of stress seemed to vanish from his features. You’d have to squint, but Ness was pretty sure he’d caught it. He had to take that as a somewhat-decent sign. 

Mr. Sharp Teeth sighed again, folding his arms across his chest and drumming his fingers on his bicep. Obviously still deep in thought, he started chewing his lip, allowing the very thing that caused Ness to come up with that nickname in his mind to catch the light. 

That was the first thing Ness had seen when he’d come to a few minutes ago. 

Or, more accurately, when the burlap sack that now lay empty on the floor had been taken off his head a few minutes ago, he’d come face-to-face with that same set of of pearly-white teeth. 

. . .Well, except for one. The upper-left canine, to be exact. It had only taken a few seconds for Ness to see how that one technically wasn’t a tooth at all. It was just a silvery cap meant to look like a tooth. Apparently the real one was gone.

The silver tooth-cap shone in the light much more than its neighbors. It really wasn’t much of a stretch to compare it to a knife. In fact, the longer Ness looked at it, the more he thought it looked similar to a fang. 

Something meant to rip and tear into a meal that was still conscious and struggling rather than simply grind up a piece of food that was either already dead and processed or had never been alive in the first place because you just needed to add some water and pop it in the microwave. 

The fact that it, along with the rest, had been bared in a grin that looked too wide and too…well, sharp didn’t bode well. At all.

And it was because of that train of thought that Ness decided he really, really didn’t want to know how the original tooth had been lost. Natural curiosity be damned. 

Even so, there was no doubting just how familiar it was to Ness, along with the jagged little scar set in the skin right above Mr. Sharp Teeth’s upper lip. 

No, Ness knew he’d seen them before, seen their owner before. The more he thought, the more he could just barely remember making smalltalk with a man who had come in for dinner with a couple friends late one evening. 

The only difference between then and now was that Mr. Sharp Teeth was wearing a black apron over a dark blue button-down rather than a red-leather-jacket-black-hoodie-combo. 

. . .Plus, the fact that Ness was bound to a chair in the corner of a place he’d never seen before, rather than the kitchen at Sparky’s. That was a huge departure, too. 

“I guess you really have been through some crap,” Mr. Sharp Teeth finally announced. 

Ness offered a combination of nod and shrug, swallowing the lump in his throat. He really wasn’t sure if he was supposed to take that as a compliment. “How do you mean?”

Mr. Sharp Teeth shrugged back. “Well, you calmed down a lot faster than I expected.” 

“Trust me, I haven’t. It’s just all on the inside right now,” Ness let out a mirthless, sopping-wet laugh. 

“Ah.” Mr. Sharp Teeth nodded sagely. “That definitely makes more sense.” 

Ness felt a paw brush against his cheek, courtesy of the long-eared ball of pale fur that was currently sniffing at his shirt. “I mean, having a bunny this close makes things seem an iota less terrifying. No offense.”

Mr. Sharp Teeth snorted. “Snare’s not a bunny. He’s a hare. I thought that’d be obvious.” 

Ness squinted, examining the creature a little more closely. “. . .No, wait, I can see it now. I’ve just never really seen a white hare before.” 

“Most people haven’t,” Mr. Sharp Teeth replied. 

The ha–er, Snare seemed to puff up his little chest at the statement, his adorable Y-shaped nose twitching as if to say, Yeah, that’s right. I’m special.

Quiet smugness aside, Ness was kinda-sorta in the odd little creature’s debt.

After all, Snare had been the one to stop his owner from just going ahead with all the torture he’d apparently had planned for tonight. 

Snare had been the proof Ness so desperately needed that this really was some insane misunderstanding. 

When Ness had still been panicking, still trying to defend himself against Mr. Sharp Teeth’s claims that Ness already knew who he was and why he he’d been knocked out and subsequently dragged to wherever this was. . .Snare had taken the chance to hop up onto Ness’ lap, bracing his paws against the waiter’s chest to curiously inspect him. 

That had been the thing to make Mr. Sharp Teeth give pause. 

Because apparently, Snare couldn’t stand whoever Ness had been mistaken for. 

It hadn’t helped a lot, since Ness was still bound to a chair and forced to watch Mr. Sharp Teeth fidget with the very same meat cleaver he’d taunted him with earlier, but something was better than nothing. 

Thinking of which. . .

“Who was meant to be here?” Ness blurted. He didn’t know why, but if he had to be anywhere against his will, then damn it, he’d better get to ask at least a few questions. “Who are you after?” 

“Like that’s any of your business,” Mr. Sharp Teeth snickered. He came a little closer. “The real question is. . .what to do with you.”

Ness felt his heart sink. His mouth opened and closed with no words coming out. 

“On one hand, there wouldn’t be any point in killing you, since you’re not even a target,” Mr. Sharp Teeth mused. “On the other hand, you’ve definitely seen a bit too much for my liking, and I’m not sure I can really trust you to commit to keeping quiet, no matter how much you promise to.” 

He aimed a quizzical glare in his captive's direction. Ness couldn’t help but shrink a little. 

“On the right index finger,” Mr. Sharp Teeth continued, “if I keep you alive down here, there’s a chance we could find a way for you to be useful in the future. But on the left index finger, there’s also a chance that you might find a way to escape, even with all the precautions I’ve set up. And on the right middle finger, you’re guaranteed not to escape if I just kill you.”

“All valid points, all valid points,” Ness admitted, his vocal cords finally remembering how to work. “But on the left middle finger, I have friends who I know would try to track me down if I ever went missing; they’d just cause you more problems if they came looking for me.” 

He paused for a brief second, thinking frantically. 

“A-and on the right ring finger,” he added in a rush, “there’s still a chance I might know something about the guy you mistook me for. But if I’m dead, then you won’t be able to ask me any questions about him, right?”

Mr. Sharp Teeth raised his eyebrows at this. “. . .You know you just kind of copied one of the points I made.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ness gulped. “But. . .I think it still stands, don’t you?”

Mr. Sharp Teeth’s only reply was a vague hum. Even so, a small, strange smile graced his lips. Amusement seemed to flicker in his dark eyes, along with…something else. Ness couldn’t tell what it was—part of him got dangerously close to wondering if it was something similar to respect—but it didn’t seem bad. Not yet, at least. 

That smile died a quick-yet-brutal death as low, organic growl broke the relative silence. Ness recognized it by instinct; he himself heard it whenever he hadn’t gotten enough to eat during his breaks. 

Mr. Sharp Teeth shook his head a little, fishing a phone out of his pocket to glance at the clock on its screen. “Oh—oh, right, today’s the day—” 

With that, he turned away, quickly walking over to the other side of the room. 

While this place certainly didn’t look like Sparky’s kitchen (or even the kitchen in the apartment Ness had been sharing with Jack for the last few years), there was no denying how it'd been set up like one.

From where he sat, Ness could see a block-island in the center of everything. All manner of cooking equipment was positioned against the walls: a refrigerator, an oven, a utility sink, a chamber vacuum sealer not at all unlike the one he’d seen in the butchery department of his local grocery store. . .and a huge chest freezer that Mr. Sharp Teeth was now rummaging through. The appliance’s lid thudded shut as he fished out a rather large bundle of something wrapped up in layers of white paper. 

Ness watched as his captor set the bundle down on the block island before going through its drawers. He produced a leather roll and a stainless steel case; Ness felt even more cold sweat materialize on his forehead as the former was revealed to be holding a collection of chef’s knives, while the latter turned out to be full to bursting with surgical tools.

After setting what looked like a cast iron skillet on the stove, Mr. Sharp Teeth began peeling back all the paper that shrouded whatever he’d taken from the freezer.

The entree that was unveiled. . .well, Ness couldn’t tell what it was at first. He couldn’t get a good vantage point, and really, that wasn’t his fault. For the first few seconds, all he could see was a dull, pale-pink lump among the discarded wrapping. Then again, he’d cooked enough to recognize cuts of raw meat when he saw them. 

That particular thought took on a whole new, sinister meaning when Mr. Sharp Teeth turned it to the side in order to line up a knife against it: the way he moved it caused a set of five fingers to drape over the edge of the block-island. 

Time seemed to slow down. 

Ness felt a cluster of thorns manifest in his throat. He was forced to grit his teeth: if he let his jaw drop at the terrifying sight, then he risked something much more solid than panicked breath flowing out of his mouth.

The next few minutes felt like at least three hours apiece. 

With swift, fluid movements and experienced hands, Mr. Sharp Teeth sliced a generous portion of flesh out of the arm, guiding his knife from the wrist all the way to the elbow.

Once he was satisfied, he gathered up the leaking morsel in his hands and carried it over to the stove, where it landed against the pan’s metal embrace with a sizzling splat.

“. . .You’re a cannibal!” Ness cried. That was all there was to it. There really wasn’t much else he could say at that moment. 

Mr. Sharp Teeth glanced back at him. That same sharp, unhinged, hungry grin from earlier etched its way across his face.

“Sure I am! What’s your point?” He replied, lightly jabbing at the air with the bloody blade for emphasis. He then threw his head back, cackling in a way that made the sound seem to slither into Ness’ ears.

Under normal circumstances, Ness wouldn’t have been shy about calling people out for laughing at their own jokes. However, this was FAR PAST a normal circumstance, and cannibals were not people he could really afford to call out for the sake of his health. 

Snare suddenly perked up, long ears twitching as he leaned away from Ness. Then, fast as a bullet, he hopped down from the captive’s lap and scurried over to stand on his hind legs and paw at his owner’s apron. 

Mr. Sharp Teeth glanced down at his pet, raising an eyebrow. “Ohhhh, so now that I’ve brought out a treat, SUDDENLY you want to spend time with me again? Real convenient how that works, huh?” 

Snare, of course, didn’t exactly reply, but he still made a sound argument via leaning against the cannibal’s leg, looking up at him with bright, warm, excited amber eyes. 

“No, don’t give me that look—don’t give me that look, Snare!” Mr. Sharp Teeth argued, pointedly looking away. “You know what you did.”

Snare tilted his head, his fuzzy little face suddenly looking quite sad. His oval-shaped ears drooped almost like wilting flowers. With a now slightly-shaking paw, he reached up to scrub at his little muzzle.

Mr. Sharp Teeth gazed at the hare yet again, and his expression immediately softened. “. . .D’aww, fine! I can’t stay mad at you!”

He then reached down to scoop the pale hare up, cuddling him against his face. “Who’s my bad boy? Who’s my bad boy? Oh, you are! Yes, that’s you!”

Like a switch being flipped, Snare abandoned his dejected look and happily nuzzled his owner’s cheek, purring in a gravelly, odd-yet-cute way. 

Afterwards, Mr. Sharp Teeth set the hare back down before returning his focus to the arm. He took a thick pair of scissors from the leather roll. . .as well as a pair of tweezers from the steel case. He cut the fingers away from the hand in less than a minute. He plucked the grayish-blue nails out of the skin in even less time than that.

He then took one of the digits and lightly tossed it over to Snare, who jumped at just the right moment to catch it. He sat back on his haunches, holding the finger between his paws, crimson stains quickly spreading on his pale fur as his buck-teeth sheared away at the flesh. 

. . .Somehow, this display wasn’t the most horrific thing Ness had ever seen (remember, he worked at a roadside diner), but it was still pretty high-ranking. 

“Th-the guy you mixed me up with,” Ness choked out, his filter having taken a well-deserved vacation. “You—you were going to eat him?!”

“Oh, c’mon, What do people always say about making assumptions?” Mr. Sharp Teeth chided with a sly, insane smirk. “If you really need to know, I was just gonna rough him up a little. We’ve had a whole catch-and-release thing for a while now; I like my meat medium-rare, not char-grilled. Besides, he’s the type of guy you can’t not mess with, y’know?”

“NO!” Ness argued, frantically shaking his head. “No, I really don’t!” 

Mr. Sharp Teeth raised an unconvinced eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m not sure I believe that.”

He then waved a dismissive hand. “Look, I know what you’re thinking right now. But believe me: the guy who should’ve been in your place? He deserves all the stuff I specialize in.” 

“‘Believe you?!’” Ness echoed. “I can’t! I’ve never met anyone who deserves to be tortured by some hungry sadistic bastard and his pet!”

Mr. Sharp Teeth offered a long, thoughtful hum in response. “Sure you have. You’re still working that waiter job, right?”

Ness’ intended retort died on his tongue. Hell, he even briefly stopped trembling for the first time since he’d regained consciousness.

Memories from both the past and the present came flooding back. He’d been working in the food industry ever since he’d grown tall enough to take cups or plates from a counter without standing on his tip-toes. And ever since then, it’d been impossible for a week to go by without at least two customers acting. . .less than ideal. 

Ness usually wasn’t the type to hold grudges, but. . .every cruel word, every patronizing gesture, every occasional display of actual violence that he’d experienced. . .it’d all just stuck to his mind like a tumor.

And he knew deep down that it would never, never leave him alone. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mr. Sharp Teeth’s voice was shockingly soft as he clearly read the emotions on his captive’s face like a book.

“My sister runs one of the best restaurants in this city; sometimes I’ll pop in to help her out. I’ve seen customers pull all sorts of petty BS with her staff for no goddamn reason. It’s infuriating, isn’t it?”

Against his instincts, Ness slowly nodded. 

“It’s pathetic, isn’t it?”

Ness nodded again. Then, somehow, he found his voice.

“Still,” he replied in a shaky whisper, “even if people deserve bad karma, bad karma doesn’t just automatically mean death!”

“You’d be surprised by how quickly that snowball can roll.” Mr. Sharp Teeth clicked his tongue. As he tended to his meal, he continued: “In any case, what I do has rules. I can only afford to eat the targets my friends and I are hired to get rid of.”

“. . .Really?” Ness asked, trying not to let hope flood through his chest too quickly. 

“Yeah, really,” Mr. Sharp Teeth huffed. He glanced at him over his shoulder, his eyes now completely unreadable. “There’s this new thing: it’s called Basic Self-Control. It’s not very popular among most people, but I’ve been able to manage with it so far.”

“I feel like a lot of self-control involves not chopping people up to snack on later,” Ness muttered. 

“Maybe for you,” Mr. Sharp Teeth shot back. 

A tense silence fell over the room.

The smell of blistering flesh was quick to seep into the air; it was all Ness could do to keep from gagging. 

Sooner or later, dinner was apparently ready.

Mr. Sharp Teeth transferred the slice of human-person from the pan to a plate. And for all his talk about self-control, he certainly didn’t wait long to tuck into his meal. Little droplets of blood splattered around his mouth as he ate with a gusto Ness hadn’t seen before and hoped to never see ever again. 

Ness’ stomach churned with horror. He lowered his head, trying to keep his gaze firmly planted on his shoes. Why the hell couldn’t he close his eyes. . ?!

Somehow, someway, thoughts were still able to reach him through the fog of fear.

Mr. Sharp Teeth had mentioned being paid to kill. That had to mean he was some kind of hitman, right? What kind of weird, unconventional laws existed in the underground business? (Ness actually had an idea, but he’d been wrong before.)

What’s more, it was unclear whether or not he’d been paid to go after the guy he’d mistaken Ness for. But either way, that obviously meant that he hadn’t been paid to go after Ness. . .

So, did that mean Ness still had a chance? Even just a small one? 

A sharp, sibilant chime cut through the air like a hot knife through butter.

Ness’s heart stopped: he knew that sound. He knew that sound very damn well.

He looked up, eyes frantically scanning the room. He saw Mr. Sharp Teeth hovering over a plate that was now empty, unless you counted a few streaks of red against the white finish, drinking a can of Diet Coke he’d apparently brought out from somewhere in Hammer Space. 

The ringtone went off again; this time, Ness could pinpoint it. 

A cellphone–his cellphone–was lying vacant on top of the refrigerator, along with all the other things that had been taking up space in Ness’ pockets before he was kidnapped. 

Mr. Sharp Teeth put the soda can down, glancing at his captive before moving to grab the device.

“Who is it?” Ness asked, his voice weak. 

Mr. Sharp Teeth stayed quiet for a few more seconds before finally replying, “Someone called ‘Mikey-Bear Jinglehiemer Schidmt.’”

Ness felt his face burn. How the hell had he forgotten to change that contact name?!

He blinked, and Mr. Sharp Teeth’s thumbs were suddenly gliding about the screen, eliciting a chorus of little blip-blip-blips as he typed. 

“Hey!” Ness blurted. “What are you doing?!”

“It’d be rude to just leave him on Read, wouldn’t it?” Mr. Sharp Teeth grinned as he hit what was so obviously the Send button. 

“No, wait!” Ness cried. “You can’t drag him into this! Just—just let me talk to him for a minute! I’ll make sure he doesn’t find out about you, please—!”

Just like that, he was writhing like an animal in a trap all over again. Mike may have not have been his favorite person at the moment, but he didn’t deserve whatever scheme Mr. Sharp Teeth could come up with! 

Mr. Sharp Teeth could tell Mike anything if he played his cards right! He could convince him that Ness had fled the country, that Ness hated his guts, that Ness was running off with a new boyfriend! 

He could use Ness as a prop to extort Mike, or lure him down here to be tortured, or. . !

“He asked what you were doing,” Mr. Sharp Teeth announced. “So I just had to tell him that you’re tied up at the moment.” He winked, slightly manic giggles leaking through his red-tinged teeth. 

. . .Or he could just make puns. That was an option too, apparently. 

Ness’ phone chimed yet again, and Mr. Sharp Teeth squinted as he read the reply aloud. 

“‘Very funny, you’re literally in the next room over. Is everything okay?’”

Ness could practically feel the color drain from his face. “But. . .no. No, no, no! That isn’t possible! I was almost a mile away from him when you knocked me out!” 

Mr. Sharp Teeth raised an eyebrow at him. “Then who is he with right now?”

Ness wracked his brain, only to freeze in place. Tears gathered in his eyes. “My stalker. It has to be; h-he mentioned Mike in the last letter he left at Sparky’s!”

“‘Stalker?’” Mr. Sharp Teeth echoed. He set Ness’ phone down and started pacing. A few long seconds passed before he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, eyes widening in time with a snarl.

“How close did this guy ever manage to get to you? Did you ever see him? If so. . .did he happen to be wearing a bear costume, by chance?”

Ness could hardly believe his ears. “Yes! I mean, he never approached me directly, but I still got a few glimpses of him! How did you—” 

“That’s why I mixed you up!” Mr. Sharp Teeth shouted, seemingly to himself. “Of course you two were in the same place at the same time! Oh my God, that slippery sON OF A BITCH!” He pounded his fist against the block-island, prompting a dull thud! to ring through the room. 

Ness gaped like a fish. He’d witnessed plenty of disturbing coincidences before, but having a stalker who apparently had some kind of petty rivalry with a cannibalistic hitman was in a weight-class of its own. 

“I need to get back to Mike!” The tears were flowing freely now. Ness’ nerves felt like they’d been dipped in acid. “God knows what he’ll do to him—what if Abby is there when it happens?!”

Mr. Sharp Teeth went quiet again, turning his head to face Ness so violently that it looked like he was on the brink of a seizure. He furiously gestured for Ness to elaborate.

“Abby! Mike’s little sister!” Ness cried without thinking. “She—she’s already been through so much! She can’t be anywhere near that lunatic!”

Something new slithered onto Mr. Sharp Teeth’s features. It took some time for Ness to realize that it was. . .fear. Pure, genuine fear. 

“You’re damn right she can’t,” Mr. Sharp Teeth agreed, his voice now hollow. 

“What do you mean? How can you tell—” Ness tried to ask. 

Mr. Sharp Teeth cut him off. “That idiot’s got a price on his head for a lot of things. One of them being that. . .well. . .” His tone was grim as he took his apron off, crossing the room to don that same jacket-hoodie-combo Ness had seen so long ago. “He isn’t exactly known for picking on people his own size.” 

A terrified, strangled cry ripped its way through Ness’ throat. 

“Well, looks like it's your lucky day,” Mr. Sharp Teeth announced. “I can get you back to them in one piece. You just have to hold still—”

He rummaged through a bag that hung from the same rack that his jacket had been placed on, pulling out the long, slender, unmistakable shape of a syringe. “I used a higher dose than I should’ve earlier, but there should still be enough to keep you asleep until everything’s clear.” 

As his captor-turned-sort-of-ally(?) approached, Ness, furiously shook his head. “NO! You can’t just knock me out again!”

“I’m pretty sure I can,” Mr. Sharp Teeth snarked, spinning the syringe in his hand. 

“I need to be awake for this!" Ness protested, "I need to be able to help!”

Mr. Sharp Teeth raised an eyebrow. “Look, just be glad I’m not trying to use chloroform, okay? It’ll be better for everyone if I can just take care of this myself.”

“And how exactly is that going to work?!” Ness snapped back. “Think about it: I wasn’t anywhere near mine or Mike’s place when you took me! You have no idea where Mike lives! It doesn’t matter what kind of resources you may or may not have; if you don’t let me help, you’ll still be taking shots in the dark!”

For the first time all night, Mr. Sharp Teeth seemed more uncertain than Ness. His brow furrowed as he weighed the options. 

“I told you before: I know the score,” Ness tried. “I know how to keep my nose out of certain things. . .and that means I know how to keep other people away from those things, too! If this guy is as horrible as you’re implying, then I won’t have any problem with you hunting him down if it means keeping him away from the people I care about! But that can only happen as quick and efficient as you probably need it to if you have my help!”

Mr. Sharp Teeth stared at Ness for a long, uncomfortable moment. 

Ness tried desperately to read his expression, to see what else he had to do to convince him. But for the life of him, he just couldn’t. 

From its place on the block-island, Ness’ phone chimed once more. 

Mr. Sharp Teeth shut his eyes tight for a few seconds, heaving a harsh sigh as he re-opened them. 

“If you’re really insisting on this,” he finally proclaimed, “then you’re gonna follow my lead. You’re gonna do exactly as I say, and you’re gonna keep your damn mouth shut until I give you the all-clear. Understood?!” 

Ness only hesitated for about a millisecond. Then he nodded, hoping his eyes were just as fierce as his former captor’s. 

Mr. Sharp Teeth gave him another tense, searching look. He then stuffed the syringe into one of his jacket's pockets before moving to untie the bindings around his wrists. 

“You’d better not make me regret this,” he growled. 

Snare, who seemed very excited by all the new vibes in the room, didn’t waste any time in hopping onto his owner’s shoulders.

___

@sammys-magical-au @insane4fandoms @the-matpat-ever @lexusinsannus @b-is-in-the-closet @im-a-weird0 @lampsforsocks

A comic I made that happened pre-handless Madpat.

A little spinoff where Mike Schmidt being the sleepy Himbo that he is, confused a certain killer with his beloved Ness, and now Madpat is confused whether or not he should kill this guy, or play along as he never had any affection from anyone before, so he’s intrigued. @crazy-obsessed-enby @wouldntyou-liketoknow @iswmperson @lexusinsannus

Meanwhile with Ness:

Ness: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!

Caliban: How rude, I might not eat you if you tell me where that dreadful Madpat it

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Comparing Killers

I sent an ask to my buddy @insane4fandoms a few days ago, and in their reply, they mentioned potentially doing a character analysis for both MadPat and my very own fanmade cannibal EgoPat Caliban in the future.

(This stemmed from one of their latest drawings. Again, thanks so much for remembering my scrunglies, friendo ❤️)

SO, being the way I am, I took some random inspiration and now I'm going through with that exact analysis myself! Just following my instincts as a writer and all that stuff.

___

MadPat:

Now, just to get this out of the way because I have a sneaking suspicion that someone’s gonna read this and automatically assume I’m being stuck-up: I really like Mad as a character. Matt has done an amazing job portraying him. . .though, Matt just has a knack for unhinged characters in general, lol.

And thanks to Matt's acting skills, Mad is an enjoyable villain. He’s cluster of chaotic problems shaped like a man in his thirties, and we all love him for it. (Honestly, I kinda see Mad’s behavior as similar to that of The Actor from all of Mark’s projects. Comedically evil with a tendency to throw tantrums when things don’t go his way.)

The FNAF Musicals have made many slight tweaks to the lore of the games to not completely plagiarize the story. So, of course, Mad is a slightly-tweaked version of William Afton: it’s made very clear that his crimes include murdering kids. On top of that, he has no problem playing long-cons with pizzeria employees before eventually killing them, too.

We’ve seen plenty of times that Mad is pretty much never afraid to get violent. Oh sure, he tries to put a mask on when he needs to, but it’s easy to see all his urges beneath that mask. (And again, much like Actor!Mark, Mad ain’t too shy about being callous and hostile to almost everyone around him.) He’s very quick to anger. To make things worse, he’s also quick to desperation.

While Mad is too smart for everyone else’s good, he’s still pretty damn impulsive/irresponsible. His crimes were all concentrated on the pizzeria; it didn’t take very long at all for the disappearances to pile up and gain unwanted attention. Now, a bunch of missing-person-cases are one thing, but leaving evidence is quite another.

Hell, in the beginning scene of Web of Lies, the wacko-in-a-bearsuit himself literally said, “Every INCH of this place is INCRIMINATING! Ten minutes of poking around this place and they’ll discover what I did. . !”

If Mad were to hear of Caliban's work, he'd probably be impressed at first and automatically assume that Caliban is just like him, just with more people-eating. However, if Mad were to actually meet Caliban and get a better read on his personality, Mad would likely end up insulting him one way or another. He'd see Caliban's professionalism as tedious.

___

Caliban Crawford:

Though I've made it pretty obvious that he's my special boi, Caliban is an objectively bad person. He may be insane, but he’s not delusional enough to deny that. Whenever his and/or Murdock's targets happen to be alive when they’re dragged to his den, he can be very, VERY sadistic throughout the butchering process. (Especially if the target has done something to personally affect him, Azalea, or any of his other peers.)

Sure, he doesn’t complain about working with dead bodies, but having a live meal is quite a special occasion. In such cases, he enjoys watching the unfortunate soul in question squirm and listening to them scream/beg. Taunting, dragging things out, making morbid puns all over the place, the works.

Despite all this, I’ve specifically crafted Caliban to be an extremely morally-gray character. (To be honest, the only fanmade ego of mine who’s full-on evil is LeviathanPat.) He’s still able to be logical/rational when he needs to. He takes pride in his self-control; yes, he has cravings for human flesh, but he knows he can’t afford to just attack any person he sees whenever he gets hungry. He knows he has to be EXTREMELY CAREFUL in order to keep his business away from the authorities. So, he only eats those he and his peers (Murdock, Azalea, etc.) are hired/paid to bump off.

On top of that, Caliban still has some humanity left. While he’s obviously nowhere close to a perfect angel, he’s still able to form genuine relationships and treat those in his circle with kindness/respect. Get on his good side, and you'll have quite a strong ally.

Though his morals are limited, one of the biggest differences between him and Mad is the fact that Caliban would never, NEVER stoop so low as to harm a child. In fact, he tends to avoid children altogether due to his own childhood trauma. (Totally not me projecting because I grew up in a dysfunctional family with verbal/emotional/psychological abuse.)

Getting back to the juicy stuff: Caliban is smart and efficient with his work. He prides himself on not leaving any evidence behind. (Yes, he still makes occasional mistakes, but even then, the aforementioned evidence still comes in very tiny amounts.) That's why he and Murdock became friends and started working together in the first place: since Caliban divides up which parts can be cooked/eaten and which parts can be sold on the Black Market, it really is easy for targets to just seemingly vanish into thin air.

Though my stories involving Caliban probably show him acting calm (despite his pun-addiction, lol), please, PLEASE don't be fooled. He's got just as much unhinged energy as Mad. He just happens to hide it a bit more often. But he definitely has his chaotic moments; half of the time it's out of unhinged joy, and the other half of the time it's because an enemy pissed him off enough to get their skin privileges revoked. (Basically, it's not that much of a stretch to see Caliban as a combination of The Hermit and Mack.)

Now, if you've seen @insane4fandoms artwork of him, then it's pretty clear that some inspiration was taken from Hannibal Lecter. And while I definitely appreciate references like that. . .well, that inspiration is mainly just for Caliban's appearance. I've said before that Caliban is nowhere near as arrogant as Hannibal. Even so, if Caliban were to see/hear about all of Mad's shenanigans, he'd write Mad off as being sloppy and unimpressive. If he were to actually meet Mad, his opinion would just get worse; he'd see Mad as a fair bit annoying and bratty.

___

@sammys-magical-au @b-is-in-the-closet @im-a-weird0 @themarpsimp @lexusinsannus @crazy-obsessed-enby @rozeliyawashereyall @gaymingintrovert @lampsforsocks @forestcouncil @x-hotrose-x @v1rus-seal

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

My Goretober Ventures So Far. . .

These are the projects I try to churn out every October. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to write for all thirty-one days, but who knows?

For now, though, I plan to just write for a week each year. (Exceptions might be made if the edgelord stars happen to align. For example: the latest Friday The 13th in October.)

……….

A Week of Goretober 2024

Day 1: Infection (MadPat/AftonPat)

Day 2: Operation (Murdock, K.O.)

Day 3: Lyric Inspired (Phantom, Bones)

Day 4: Burst Vessels (Garret, The Newcomer)

Day 5: Submerged (Parker, Murdock)

Day 6: Malformed (Sol, LeviathanPat, ColosSeptic)

Day 7: Ritual [HALLOWEEN SPECIAL] (Cruz, EldritchPlier, Sol, LeviathanPat, Moses, ColosSeptic)

……….

The Thirteen Days of Goretober 2023

Day 1: Impalement (Lucas/Captain!Lix)

Day 2: Self-Mutilation (Phantom)

Day 3: Broken Bones (K.O., Murdock, Caliban, Azalea)

Day 4: Amputation (Caliban, Murdock, R.D.)

Day 5: Drain (Fenwyn, Celine)

Day 6: Decapitation (Janus Sanders, Remus Sanders, Logan Sanders, Roman Sanders, Patton Sanders)

Day 7: Needles (Azalea, Murdock, Caliban, K.O.)

Day 8: Sensory Deprivation (Bones, Phantom)

Day 9: Plants (CryptidXian)

Day 10: Dissection (Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders)

Day 11: Split (Wilford Warfstache)

Day 12: Putrefaction (Unus, Annus)

Day 13: Bloodbath (Convict!Mark)

HALLOWEEN 2023 SPECIAL: Bloody Tricks and Even Bloodier Treats (Sam Ryder, Azalea, Murdock, Caliban, K.O.)

……….

A Week of Goretober 2022

Day 1: Voodoo Doll (Phantom, Bones)

Day 2: Cannibalism (Caliban, Murdock, The Newcomer)

Day 3: Broken Glass (Damien, Celine, The District Attorney, Darkiplier)

Day 4: Suffocation (The Captain, Head Engineer Mark)

Day 5: Revenge (Natemare, FNAF’s Missing Children, Purple Guy/Afton/Springtrap)

Day 6: Specimen Preservation (Phantom, Anti-Matter)

Day 7: Lyric Inspired (The Reader, Scaredy/SCARED-E)

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Oh, Mad for SURE. Since I've been writing about him lately, along with watching the latest FNAF Musical installments, he's just been on my mind.

...Plus, I've put him through an absolute THRASHING in mine and @insane4fandoms little collab, so to hear that he's still feeling some type of way in a different story-universe is hilarious

Which part are you most interested to read?

[intered]

theorussy...

i finally got around to watching the fun facts video for web of lies and these two facts are absolutely everything you need to know about matpat i think

[lexusinsannus]

cant wait to meet you- (aftonpat walks in)

i should do this in cosplay

day 1 of drawing fnaftm until shadows of agony is out

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

YOOOO THIS LOOKS GREAT!!!

I did a lil something inspired by @littledeathlittleghost from their little headcanon of fnaftm Nate being Natemare‼️

HEHEHOEKBAKBA

I LOVE NATE AND I LOVE THIS AU SO SO MUCH

THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I HYPERFIXATE ON STUFF

I turn it into an animation >:)