- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- Multiple posts per week
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- Usually from early evening all through the night into the morning hours.
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Nonbinary
- Transgender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- I'm cool with just about anything...except the genres listed in the DON'T LIKE section.
Initially, when those peculiar sounds pierced the air, Foxy believed that they were coming from a child. So, naturally, his head popped up, his ears stood straight up, and he swung his head around rapidly, searching for the source of the din. It didn't take him all that long to realize, after listening a bit more closely, that it was definitely the voice of an adult producing those distressed noises. Huffing loudly, the fox settled back down into his new favorite corner again. He had zero interest in assisting an adult in distress. A child was a completely different story. He would go through hell and high water to help a distressed child! But an adult? Pah! Why bother? Adults were horrible creatures.
When the sounds abruptly cut off, Foxy's ears pricked upward again...but this time, he didn't even bother lifting his head. He did growl like a tiger trapped in a sturdy cage when he distinctly heard footsteps approaching him. The faint light from the bedroom illuminated the cramped closet space, and revealed the position of the dilapidated old fox. Foxy had himself squished into a protective ball in the far right corner, his tail wrapped around his feet and backside, his legs snug against his chest, his arms propped up on his knees, and his muzzle and face buried somewhere between them. Even though this position practically screamed fear, the filthy red fur that ran along Foxy's back rose into a threatening arch when he felt an unwelcome gaze boring into him.
He was raising his hackles at Mike. Like an aggressive and angry dog.
The return of the darkness was more than welcomed by the old pirate. He grumbled under his breath, sneaking a peek at the faint corona of light that seeped in around the edges of the door. Though he was still seething with anger, his previous desire to turn that repulsive night guard into mincemeat had long since faded. As much as he hated to admit it, that pea-brained adult was the only one who knew where they were. Though he was admittedly quite interested in the world outside of the pizzeria, this was not how he wanted to explore it. He had no idea how to get back home! If he could just get his hands on a map...maybe he could make a grand escape when the night guard left, or when he wasn't looking!
Hm...that was an intriguing sound. One of Foxy's ears swiveled to better catch that faint noise. It sounded oddly familiar...but where had he heard this sort of sound before...? Foxy blinked, squinting off into the distance and rubbing his chin with the tip of his hook. ...Oh! Yes, that's right! It was the sound of running water. The sinks in the pizzeria's poorly-maintained bathrooms made similar noises whenever he turned the knobs and the water flowed from the faucets. He found it to be a rather comforting sound, and on those rare nights when they didn't have to worry about annihilating a night guard, Foxy sometimes disappeared into the bathroom to run the faucets. He figured that the suits in management were still scratching their heads and wondering why their utilities bills skyrocketed every now and again.
The running water lulled the old fox into a half-awake state, and even when it disappeared, he remained in that comfortable state. Until the phone decided to ring, that was. The sudden piercing sound of the phone startled Foxy. He let out a bark of surprise, and some crashing sounds from the closet indicated that he might have fallen over, or tripped over something in the darkness. Not wanting the night guard to poke his big stupid head in, wondering what was going on, and seeing him in this sprawled-out state, Foxy was quick to right himself, shimmying back into his corner. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed about his actions.
A hair-raising snarl was the knee-jerk response the hidden animatronic had to his name being called. Foxy curled in further on himself, deliberately hiding his face from view just in case the human did decide to poke his head into the closet. He wasn't surprised to hear that the manager wanted to scrap him...but the fact that the owner finally caved in only served to puzzle him. The owner was a mysterious old man. He could only remember that human agreeing to scrap animatronics once in the past, and that was because he was genuinely afraid of the Toys (particularly the old Marionette). Even so...Foxy had a sneaking suspicion that he hadn't really scrapped the Toys at all and that he was just keeping them stored somewhere, deactivated and dead to the world.
The mere mention of going back to the pizzeria had Foxy lifting his head, ears angled forward cautiously. ...So...the night guard was willing to take him home tonight, but at the end of his shift, he would have to suck it up and leave again to avoid being scrapped, huh? He definitely didn't like that idea, if the nonsensical grumbling coming from the closet was any indication...but did he really have any choice? If the owner wanted to scrap him now, there was nothing he could do about it. Freddy and the elusive Golden were the only ones who communicated directly with the owner, and even so, that in itself was a rare occasion. If the owner wouldn't change his mind, the two bears would likely have to put their feet down.
Patiently, Foxy waited for the night guard to leave. Once he did, the closet door creaked open a couple of inches. Foxy poked his sharp-toothed face out, scanning the room warily for any sign of Mike. Only when he found no traces of the adult did Foxy climb out of the closet. He shook himself off like a wet dog and scratched gratefully at his itchy shoulders with his hook. For the life of him, he couldn't get those snagged bits of curtain out of his shoulder joints. He did a final sweep of the room, searching for potential threats...before he took a step forward, sniffing the air.
If there was one thing that outweighed Foxy's fear of being in a new place...it was his wild sense of curiosity.
Confident that the night guard was nowhere near, the metal fox prowled about the room. The first thing he did was poke inquisitively at the mattress, eyes wide as dinner plates. Upon finding it to be soft, he tensed his legs, tail wiggling playfully, and leaped onto it. He spent a few moments just rolling around on the wonderfully soft object, and making a blanket burrito out of himself with all of the sheets and covers. Eventually, though, the need to explore burned within him again and Foxy reluctantly left the bed behind. He went through the small dresser next, throwing clothing this way and that. He didn't bother with the closet--after all, he'd already seen everything in there. The next thing he did was make a beeline for the bathroom. Foxy went straight for the sink and turned the knob, purring like a content kitten when the water came gushing out of the faucet. He recognized the toilet for what it was, though he did reach out and push on the handle to see if it worked like the ones in the restaurant. The shower threw him for a loop. He circled the unfamiliar object, staring it down like it was his opponent in a boxing match. A peek inside revealed that there were two knobs there. Eagerly, Foxy leaned into the shower, hand outstretched for the knob...but then he noticed the faucet directly above them and jerked backward, growling loudly. Water didn't normally do too much damage to the other three animatronics...but Foxy's inner workings and wiring were exposed, so he couldn't afford to get wet.
He spent a good half hour exploring the bedroom. He did try the door that led out into the rest of the place again, but found it was locked once more. A good move on the night guard's part. That broken window would be far too tempting for this curious fox, and he would probably fall straight out if he wasn't careful enough. Foxy ended his bout of exploration by flopping over onto the mattress again. He spent the next fifteen minutes constructing a makeshift pirate ship out of blankets, pillows, and sheets. It didn't look pretty, but it was certainly comfortable. Before he knew it, he was out again, curled up comfortably on the night guard's cozy mattress.
When the sounds abruptly cut off, Foxy's ears pricked upward again...but this time, he didn't even bother lifting his head. He did growl like a tiger trapped in a sturdy cage when he distinctly heard footsteps approaching him. The faint light from the bedroom illuminated the cramped closet space, and revealed the position of the dilapidated old fox. Foxy had himself squished into a protective ball in the far right corner, his tail wrapped around his feet and backside, his legs snug against his chest, his arms propped up on his knees, and his muzzle and face buried somewhere between them. Even though this position practically screamed fear, the filthy red fur that ran along Foxy's back rose into a threatening arch when he felt an unwelcome gaze boring into him.
He was raising his hackles at Mike. Like an aggressive and angry dog.
The return of the darkness was more than welcomed by the old pirate. He grumbled under his breath, sneaking a peek at the faint corona of light that seeped in around the edges of the door. Though he was still seething with anger, his previous desire to turn that repulsive night guard into mincemeat had long since faded. As much as he hated to admit it, that pea-brained adult was the only one who knew where they were. Though he was admittedly quite interested in the world outside of the pizzeria, this was not how he wanted to explore it. He had no idea how to get back home! If he could just get his hands on a map...maybe he could make a grand escape when the night guard left, or when he wasn't looking!
Hm...that was an intriguing sound. One of Foxy's ears swiveled to better catch that faint noise. It sounded oddly familiar...but where had he heard this sort of sound before...? Foxy blinked, squinting off into the distance and rubbing his chin with the tip of his hook. ...Oh! Yes, that's right! It was the sound of running water. The sinks in the pizzeria's poorly-maintained bathrooms made similar noises whenever he turned the knobs and the water flowed from the faucets. He found it to be a rather comforting sound, and on those rare nights when they didn't have to worry about annihilating a night guard, Foxy sometimes disappeared into the bathroom to run the faucets. He figured that the suits in management were still scratching their heads and wondering why their utilities bills skyrocketed every now and again.
The running water lulled the old fox into a half-awake state, and even when it disappeared, he remained in that comfortable state. Until the phone decided to ring, that was. The sudden piercing sound of the phone startled Foxy. He let out a bark of surprise, and some crashing sounds from the closet indicated that he might have fallen over, or tripped over something in the darkness. Not wanting the night guard to poke his big stupid head in, wondering what was going on, and seeing him in this sprawled-out state, Foxy was quick to right himself, shimmying back into his corner. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed about his actions.
A hair-raising snarl was the knee-jerk response the hidden animatronic had to his name being called. Foxy curled in further on himself, deliberately hiding his face from view just in case the human did decide to poke his head into the closet. He wasn't surprised to hear that the manager wanted to scrap him...but the fact that the owner finally caved in only served to puzzle him. The owner was a mysterious old man. He could only remember that human agreeing to scrap animatronics once in the past, and that was because he was genuinely afraid of the Toys (particularly the old Marionette). Even so...Foxy had a sneaking suspicion that he hadn't really scrapped the Toys at all and that he was just keeping them stored somewhere, deactivated and dead to the world.
The mere mention of going back to the pizzeria had Foxy lifting his head, ears angled forward cautiously. ...So...the night guard was willing to take him home tonight, but at the end of his shift, he would have to suck it up and leave again to avoid being scrapped, huh? He definitely didn't like that idea, if the nonsensical grumbling coming from the closet was any indication...but did he really have any choice? If the owner wanted to scrap him now, there was nothing he could do about it. Freddy and the elusive Golden were the only ones who communicated directly with the owner, and even so, that in itself was a rare occasion. If the owner wouldn't change his mind, the two bears would likely have to put their feet down.
Patiently, Foxy waited for the night guard to leave. Once he did, the closet door creaked open a couple of inches. Foxy poked his sharp-toothed face out, scanning the room warily for any sign of Mike. Only when he found no traces of the adult did Foxy climb out of the closet. He shook himself off like a wet dog and scratched gratefully at his itchy shoulders with his hook. For the life of him, he couldn't get those snagged bits of curtain out of his shoulder joints. He did a final sweep of the room, searching for potential threats...before he took a step forward, sniffing the air.
If there was one thing that outweighed Foxy's fear of being in a new place...it was his wild sense of curiosity.
Confident that the night guard was nowhere near, the metal fox prowled about the room. The first thing he did was poke inquisitively at the mattress, eyes wide as dinner plates. Upon finding it to be soft, he tensed his legs, tail wiggling playfully, and leaped onto it. He spent a few moments just rolling around on the wonderfully soft object, and making a blanket burrito out of himself with all of the sheets and covers. Eventually, though, the need to explore burned within him again and Foxy reluctantly left the bed behind. He went through the small dresser next, throwing clothing this way and that. He didn't bother with the closet--after all, he'd already seen everything in there. The next thing he did was make a beeline for the bathroom. Foxy went straight for the sink and turned the knob, purring like a content kitten when the water came gushing out of the faucet. He recognized the toilet for what it was, though he did reach out and push on the handle to see if it worked like the ones in the restaurant. The shower threw him for a loop. He circled the unfamiliar object, staring it down like it was his opponent in a boxing match. A peek inside revealed that there were two knobs there. Eagerly, Foxy leaned into the shower, hand outstretched for the knob...but then he noticed the faucet directly above them and jerked backward, growling loudly. Water didn't normally do too much damage to the other three animatronics...but Foxy's inner workings and wiring were exposed, so he couldn't afford to get wet.
He spent a good half hour exploring the bedroom. He did try the door that led out into the rest of the place again, but found it was locked once more. A good move on the night guard's part. That broken window would be far too tempting for this curious fox, and he would probably fall straight out if he wasn't careful enough. Foxy ended his bout of exploration by flopping over onto the mattress again. He spent the next fifteen minutes constructing a makeshift pirate ship out of blankets, pillows, and sheets. It didn't look pretty, but it was certainly comfortable. Before he knew it, he was out again, curled up comfortably on the night guard's cozy mattress.
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