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Description
Back at it again with the bad titles.

After the absolute mess I made on my last drawing of Phone Guy, I had to draw him again. Even though I managed to fix it, I still just had to. But then again, I messed up a bit here too, by using black pen instead of red on the outline of the wall decoration, and due to the lighting, it looked really flat, so I had to make a bunch of modifications to make the tiles look rounded instead of flat to the ground.

Also, story time! FYI, I wrote this after I started the drawing, and there's a scene that I really want to draw now.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•.🌹.•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

They saw him.

He knew they saw him as soon as he heard the sound of shoes against tile, and saw the flash of a metal blade swing in the doorway.

The flashing red light signalled to everyone who saw that he was recording. There wasn't even a party going on, so dispite there being no rules against filming on premises - it was actually encouraged to help give this location a better reputation - Krasnyy had no excuse to be recording in this part of the restaurant at this time of night, let alone an excuse for him recording an interaction between his boss, and that "Mr A" that kept calling from time to time.

Doing the only thing he could do in his situation, he started to run, and took the less obvious route, because he had a plan.

Firstly, he dashed down the corridor, and through the security office. With a wave, he greeted his co-worker, Jeremy, who was sitting at the desk, checking through the cameras as always. Jeremy instinctively knew that Krasnyy had done something stupid, yet useful, yet again; contacted the front desk, as Amina may as well know that she'd have to hide a video camera in advance this time.

As Krasnyy left the room, out of the corner of his eye, Jeremy saw a purple figure obscured in a black haze barreled in after, which Jeremy knew was obviously Ina's shoddy attempt to mask Vincent's movements. Without thinking, he pushed the desk with his feet, sending the swivel chair and himself straight into Vincent's path, sending both of them crashing to the ground.

"Fucking bastard!" The combined voice of Vincent and Ina growled, glaring at Jeremy.

On the other hand, Jeremy simply remained silent as he got up, brushed himself off. Then he got back to work, picking up the chair and moving it to the back of the office, as if he intended to simply slide over there in the chair, even if Vincent hadn't just barreled into the room.

Meanwhile, Krasnyy continued to run through the other coridoor, focused only on getting out into the open. Getting somewhere people would see him. Getting somewhere he couldn't be hurt without people noticing.

As he approached the small entrance room, he begun to hyperventilate. Every time he ran from them, it was always just outside the restaurant. Just outside that door, sometimes even a small way down the street. There was always something stopping him from getting away completely. Always something or someone to trip him up. Always something that would get him hurt. Regardless, he still ran. He slid his video camera onto the reception desk, and bolted out the door.

Half way down the street, he heard a whisper. It was a that of a middle aged woman. The voice of a single mother. The same voice of a woman whose murder was passed off as a tragic accident. The same woman whose ghost became a shadow of the spring lock suit she died in. The whispers themselves were coated in static, and laced with screeches. Static and screeches that caused pain. A horrible migraine, backed by a chorus of robotic nonsense.

Covering his ears, Krasnyy collapsed to the ground, screaming and crying.

Eventually, the voice stopped; he heard familiar footsteps behind him, and he continued to cry.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•.🌹.•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Funny story, some of my stuff fell into the hole at the end of my bed - the hole is not a bad hole, it is a simple gap that is used for storage, like a cupboard - so I had to move all of my drawing stuff, so I wound up sorting all that out, and moving stuff around, and found the bunny toy (which you may be seeing a bit of) in the box at the end of my bed which I store my drawing things on. I also took this as an opportunity to rearrange my stuff, so things won't fall, and I could actually access all of my equipment easier.

Then a few days later, I had to rearrange it all again, so I've just got what I need out now, so the backdrop of what you'll be seeing on proof shots changes from linework to shading.

Link to my FNAF amino blog:
htt p://am inoa pps. com/ p/xvy 4h2d

FNAF (c) Scott Cawthon.
Artwork and interpretation of the characters belong to me.

Description
Back at it again with the bad titles.

After the absolute mess I made on my last drawing of Phone Guy, I had to draw him again. Even though I managed to fix it, I still just had to. But then again, I messed up a bit here too, by using black pen instead of red on the outline of the wall decoration, and due to the lighting, it looked really flat, so I had to make a bunch of modifications to make the tiles look rounded instead of flat to the ground.

Also, story time! FYI, I wrote this after I started the drawing, and there's a scene that I really want to draw now.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•.🌹.•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

They saw him.

He knew they saw him as soon as he heard the sound of shoes against tile, and saw the flash of a metal blade swing in the doorway.

The flashing red light signalled to everyone who saw that he was recording. There wasn't even a party going on, so dispite there being no rules against filming on premises - it was actually encouraged to help give this location a better reputation - Krasnyy had no excuse to be recording in this part of the restaurant at this time of night, let alone an excuse for him recording an interaction between his boss, and that "Mr A" that kept calling from time to time.

Doing the only thing he could do in his situation, he started to run, and took the less obvious route, because he had a plan.

Firstly, he dashed down the corridor, and through the security office. With a wave, he greeted his co-worker, Jeremy, who was sitting at the desk, checking through the cameras as always. Jeremy instinctively knew that Krasnyy had done something stupid, yet useful, yet again; contacted the front desk, as Amina may as well know that she'd have to hide a video camera in advance this time.

As Krasnyy left the room, out of the corner of his eye, Jeremy saw a purple figure obscured in a black haze barreled in after, which Jeremy knew was obviously Ina's shoddy attempt to mask Vincent's movements. Without thinking, he pushed the desk with his feet, sending the swivel chair and himself straight into Vincent's path, sending both of them crashing to the ground.

"Fucking bastard!" The combined voice of Vincent and Ina growled, glaring at Jeremy.

On the other hand, Jeremy simply remained silent as he got up, brushed himself off. Then he got back to work, picking up the chair and moving it to the back of the office, as if he intended to simply slide over there in the chair, even if Vincent hadn't just barreled into the room.

Meanwhile, Krasnyy continued to run through the other coridoor, focused only on getting out into the open. Getting somewhere people would see him. Getting somewhere he couldn't be hurt without people noticing.

As he approached the small entrance room, he begun to hyperventilate. Every time he ran from them, it was always just outside the restaurant. Just outside that door, sometimes even a small way down the street. There was always something stopping him from getting away completely. Always something or someone to trip him up. Always something that would get him hurt. Regardless, he still ran. He slid his video camera onto the reception desk, and bolted out the door.

Half way down the street, he heard a whisper. It was a that of a middle aged woman. The voice of a single mother. The same voice of a woman whose murder was passed off as a tragic accident. The same woman whose ghost became a shadow of the spring lock suit she died in. The whispers themselves were coated in static, and laced with screeches. Static and screeches that caused pain. A horrible migraine, backed by a chorus of robotic nonsense.

Covering his ears, Krasnyy collapsed to the ground, screaming and crying.

Eventually, the voice stopped; he heard familiar footsteps behind him, and he continued to cry.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•.🌹.•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Funny story, some of my stuff fell into the hole at the end of my bed - the hole is not a bad hole, it is a simple gap that is used for storage, like a cupboard - so I had to move all of my drawing stuff, so I wound up sorting all that out, and moving stuff around, and found the bunny toy (which you may be seeing a bit of) in the box at the end of my bed which I store my drawing things on. I also took this as an opportunity to rearrange my stuff, so things won't fall, and I could actually access all of my equipment easier.

Then a few days later, I had to rearrange it all again, so I've just got what I need out now, so the backdrop of what you'll be seeing on proof shots changes from linework to shading.

Link to my FNAF amino blog:
htt p://am inoa pps. com/ p/xvy 4h2d

FNAF (c) Scott Cawthon.
Artwork and interpretation of the characters belong to me.