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wouldntyou-liketoknow · 4 months

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Just Another Night at Sparky's

(Disclaimer: Ness/WaiterPat and Jack/Cabbie!Cory are not my creations. I gave Jack his name because he wasn't given one in the movie. Now, one of the characters you'll be seeing here technically belongs to me, but I don't really consider him a full fanego.)

(I was already planning to write for Ness and Jack, but after I learned how Mark was originally intended to play the role of that first security guard who died, I decided to adopt that abandoned character. Go here for headcanons and a more thorough explanation.)

(Certain plot-points in this story were inspired by @flawlessstriker and @insane4fandoms! These two are very talented artists, and I'm not sure I would've thought of such clever/funny easter eggs if I hadn't seen some of their own work, so please go check out their blogs and show them some love!)

(Trigger Warnings: food and drink, eating/drinking, implied trauma, mentions of past violence, mentions of blood, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

In Ness’ personal experience, the people who dined at Sparky’s could be divided into three sections on a metaphorical pie chart.

Twenty-four percent of customers were. . .just a little off. Not like that was necessarily a bad thing, mind you. Working in the restaurant business meant having to interact with lots of people each and every day. At some point, you’d learn to pick up on certain things that were odd in the way you couldn’t quite put your finger on (or, perhaps you just knew deep down that you didn’t want to).

Ness strolled out of the kitchen and into the seating area, expertly balancing a tray on one hand. He approached a couple of bespectacled young women in one corner of the diner.

Their visits to Sparky’s were a bit sporadic, but they never failed to claim that one booth in the corner that no-one else ever sat at no matter how crowded the joint was. The backpacks they always hauled along were positioned further up the booth’s seat cushions, half-open and nearly overspilling with various books.

They always used indoor voices, but he could still pick up bits and pieces of their conversation whenever he was near.

Tonight was no different:

“—he’ll be hungrier than usual,” murmured the one on the left, who boasted short, wavy hair that had been dyed a dark shade of violet. It complimented her shirt, which read ADOPT A FAMILIAR at the top. Pictures of creepy-looking critters were displayed beneath the message, orange-eyed and outlined by blue against the black fabric. “And he’ll need a live one this time.”

“Ooh,” replied the one on the right, who sported a yellow shirt with the screen-printed likeness of some obscure, spikey-haired cartoon character near the collar. A blonde ponytail spilled out from the back of her ball cap. “Who’s it gonna be? The lady whose eyes were found in that jar last month?”

“Nah, she’ll be in some psych ward. Too far-gone to keep on the playing board, y’know?” A sly grin etched its way across Urban Fantasy Nerd’s features. “I was actually wondering if you’d like to choose. Your guy is making the delivery, after all.”

“Ah, that’s right!” Cartoon-Fan snickered in a way that was just a teensy bit unhinged. “I can already see him slipping on some of the blood."

“Third time’s a charm?” Ness asked as he halted, carefully setting this duo’s Usual on the table.

(Two milkshakes: one chocolate, the other strawberry. Yeah, it was kind of basic, but he wasn’t too much of a judgemental guy. Besides, Sparky’s shakes were a much safer option than the lilac-colored drinks that chicken shack around the corner had started selling. And Ness didn’t just carry that opinion because of his employment. During one of his typical night-walks, he’d passed an alley just in time to see said purple beverage oozing through said chicken shack’s windows. The strong, sugary smell wafting off it had reminded him of prion disease.)

The girls both paused. Though they smiled up at him and offered quiet “Thank-yous,” as they moved their respective, sticker-covered laptops out of the way, visible confusion mixed itself into their gratitude.

“For the university’s creative writing contest, I mean,” Ness elaborated. “There were articles in the paper about the last two, and I saw your pictures in the list of winners. Congratulations, by the way.”

“. . .Oh,” Urban Fantasy Nerd answered, exchanging careful glances with her friend. “Yeah. Writing. Let’s go with that.”

“If anyone asks, we were also writing here two months ago,” Cartoon-Fan added with a conspiratory wink. “On Friday, between five-thirty and nine o’clock.”

Ness chuckled, raising one hand to pull an invisible zipper over his lips. “You’ve got it. Enjoy.”

As he retraced his steps to organize some stuff behind the coffee counter, a little voice in the back of his theater-trained head wondered if the girls’ tones had been joking enough. Unlike many times before, he pushed that voice aside.

On one hand, missing person cases did always seem to pop up on the news channels a few days after the two students stopped by to enjoy milkshakes while typing away and occasionally turning the screens of their laptops toward one another.

On the other hand. . .well, those cases were always located states and states away, typically near more seaside areas. None of them had been anywhere close to Utah. (Not yet, at least.)

Besides, even if those girls were somehow connected to more sinister things than their coursework, they were still very nice. Good tippers, too. Nowhere near the worst patrons Ness had served in his time.

The strange customers almost always seemed to come in pairs.

Like the duo of twenty-somethings from last week. One sported ginger hair and a She/They button pinned to their jacket. The soot-stains on said jacket had been very obvious, as were the burn scars on their palms, but she’d still been a delight to make smalltalk with.

The other, a pale young man, had been much more quiet, but still friendly. He’d kept peering through the window at (what was presumably) his or his friend’s car, shakily fidgeting with the headphones around his neck, so it’d taken some time for Ness to realize that his eyes were just as reflective as mirrors.

(For the duration of their stay, the jukebox over by the counter had spat out songs that most certainly weren’t on its index cards. Fine, that might’ve caught Ness a bit off-guard at first, but he still knew to appreciate variety.)

Or the two men who’d come in a few months ago, wearing battered navy-blue bomber jackets and thousand-yard-stares. The one with a dyed-red fauxhawk had screamed and practically leapt out of his skin when Ness came over with menus and his usual greeting, but he’d apologized soon enough. After giving Ness a thorough look-over, that is.

His companion, a similarly dark-eyed man with a larynx that could only be found on seasoned musicians, had muttered, “Don’t mind him. We’ve just. . .had a bit of a rough trip.” His voice hadn’t been unkind, but he’d kept glancing at Ness whenever he thought he wasn’t looking.

Well, perhaps that particular pair had broken the trend a bit. Because a few hours after they’d paid for their food and left, a lone traveler had come in.

His bloodshot eyes—which Ness could’ve sworn were orange instead of brown—had never stopped bulging, never stopped darting this way and that above his rictus of a smile. When he wasn’t speaking, he’d hum or murmur things with a shakiness that was typically found in rabid dogs.

He’d asked for way more coffee refills than could ever be considered healthy, as well as if Ness had seen anyone fitting the descriptions of Red-Haired-Screamer and Wary-Possible-Musician. Ness, following his instincts, had said no, to which the loner started simply shaking his head and grinning with a mouthful of teeth that looked a smidge too sharp.

Or the scruffy man who'd started coming in for breakfast every other week with his young sister in tow. He was living proof that you could recognize someone without officially knowing them. After all, it was pretty damn easy for Ness to remember almost making eye-contact with him, barely moving out of reach of his flashlight’s beam in time, and then having the seconds feel like hours as he watched him shake his head and mutter to himself about seeing things.

It wasn’t like that’d been Ness’ first little midnight rendezvous around Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzaria. Just like how that particular man wasn’t the first security guard who’d gotten dangerously close to spotting him during his unofficial, self-driven investigations.

For the record, Ness knew that said investigations weren’t legal—especially not if you counted some of the things he’d. . .borrowed from the old animatronic jamboree restaurant—but he’d made his peace with that.

He hadn’t been sneaking around there to deal drugs or partake in any himself.

He wasn’t exactly chasing the adrenaline that always came with an evening full of ducking around corners and trying to ignore how loud his shoes sounded against linoleum floors when he rushed to find anything he could feasibly hide behind, underneath, or inside of.

He never meant any harm when it came to snooping.

It was just a simple case of having a little too much curiosity.

Thankfully, Security Guard #13 still had yet to show up at Ness’ place with some accompanying cops, so it seemed he didn’t recognize Ness as anything other than a humble waiter. (Or, if he did actually recognize Ness from that night, then he was miraculously chill enough to not bring it up and get him in trouble.)

The very first time they’d paid Sparky’s a visit, it would’ve been impossible to ignore the distinct smell that had been wafting off of Security Guard #13. It’d had a bite to it; like machine oil mixed with something much more. . .organic.

From that bleak look Ness had seen in his eyes, Security Guard #13 was most certainly NOT what anyone could call unbothered, but he was still polite. Plus, Kid Sister was the type who just deserved all the crayons in the world, what with the little masterpieces she’d decorated the paper menus with.

So, yeah. There was a genuine difference between oddball customers and customers that made you lose some of your faith in humanity.

People who asked for trout to be blended into their yogurt parfait or for their donuts to be topped with slices of pickles that had gathered fuzz from their mysterious journeys at the back of the refrigerator were still easier to handle than people who threw temper tantrums because they didn’t get a refill in under thirty seconds.

Back to the pie-chart—another forty-six percent of customers were perfectly decent and standard.

Plenty of the locals had a soft spot for this joint; Ness had lost count of all the times he’d been told that the pancakes served here were some of the best on planet Earth. Yeah, praise like that technically wasn’t directed at him, but the cooks were great people to work with, so it still made him happy to relay said praise to them.

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t awkward for someone to confusedly ask if they’d already seen him working at the bar on the other side of town. Even so, that once-a-month occurrence always left him amused rather than annoyed. If anything, it attested to that particular customer’s observation skills.

Sure, he and Sans were identical twins—the fact that their uncle had mixed them up on several different occasions when they were little was still a running joke in the family. But it’d been years since Sans had decided to remedy that via a skeleton face-mask and a dark blue leather jacket, and he’d made a habit to don both aforementioned garments each day ever since then. (Ness was still in partial disbelief that the manager at Grillby’s was cool enough to let Sans wear them over his uniform.)

Just as many of Sans’ customers apparently ended up mistaking him for Ness. Sans got a nice little kick out of that, of course. He hadn’t just been born with a comedic heart—it truly seemed every bone in his body was a funny one. Some people would argue that he just delivered puns upon more puns upon even more puns, but Ness knew his brother better than that.

After all, Sans had been the one to train him to deal with the last category of customers: the thirty percent of entitled neanderthals who thought treating staff as less than human would somehow magically make their miserable lives more interesting.

“Food work is all about balance,” Sans had explained sometime after he and Ness had grown tall enough to take plates and cups from a counter without having to stand on their tip-toes. “You’ve gotta be nice and still let people know that you won’t take their crap. If they’re civil, then you’re helpful. But if they’re rude. . .” Sans had paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “. . .then you have a little fun.”

Ness had always been a pretty fast learner. It’d taken a week or so of practice, yeah, but with his twin’s help, he’d developed a tongue sharp enough to rival any butcher knife in the kitchen.

“You use a lot of big words for a waiter,” snorted a wannabe business bigshot with a wrinkled clip-on tie and a way, waaaaaay over-gelled hairdo that spoke volumes of desperation.

Ness, who’d been explaining the differences between certain ingredients and flavor-enhancing chemicals because Hair Gel’s girlfriend had asked a fair question about the smoothies on the menu, barely batted an eyelid when he came back with, “And you smell a lot like hotdog water for someone who apparently doesn’t work with food.”

“This was the WORST thing I’ve ever put in my mouth!” Exclaimed a woman with an unidentifiable crust caked around the corners of her eyes and an ill-fitting shirt that was advertising some essential oil brand.

“I highly doubt that,” Ness mentioned, raising an eyebrow as he took the plate (which was suspiciously much emptier than when he’d first brought it out) from her table, “but whatever you say. . .”

“Oh! Thank you!” A tiny boy who couldn’t have been older than seven chirped, bouncing in his seat when Ness placed a sundae down in front of him.

Ness had been about to reply, but the boy’s mother—a lady who was trying very hard to look posh (but not succeeding very well due her asymmetrical haircut, as well as all the little green marks around the jewelry she was practically drowning in)—cut him off.

“You don’t need to thank him, sweetheart,” she’d instructed, reaching across the table to corral her son. “That’s his job.”

That one had, admittedly, forced Ness to take a deep breath and appeal to his higher self for a few seconds. Despite this, he’d still made sure to look that Karen dead in the eyes when he observed, “I’m not sure what your problem is, ma’am. But it must be hard for you to pronounce.”

(At least the boy didn’t seem to be too influenced; his bright eyes were nothing but apologetic when Ness came back with the check.)

The relative silence was shattered by the jingling call of that little bell suspended over the front entrance. Ness blinked, his train of thought screeching to a halt. He glanced over in the door’s direction, grinning at a familiar sight.

Another regular; one that Ness got to have actual conversations with on nights like tonight.

Mason glanced around at all the empty tables, brushing back his nearly shoulder-length raven hair and quickly getting the hint that he could just seat himself.

A golden retriever trotted beside him, connected to a leash in his hand via a pink vest that’d been fastened around her shoulders and belly. It was adorned by black velcro straps that read THERAPY DOG in a bold white font. The forest-green sherpa hoodie Mason always seemed to wear was only about half as fluffy as her fur.

Ness ducked into the kitchen. No more than three seconds had passed before the last cook on duty for tonight—a lanky blonde guy who was perhaps the most unapologetically flamboyant foodie you could ever have the honor of knowing—called, “Order Up! Your buddies’ Usuals, fresh from that babbling kiddie pool of oil.”

Dylan set a triad of dishes onto a waiting platter: the first held a stack of waffles (much like Sparky’s pancakes, their recipe was a secret that his very own grandmother had entrusted him with) and fried chicken tenders. The second supported a small mound of bacon. The third was adorned by a couple club sandwiches with a side of mozzarella sticks.

“Thanks, man. Right on time,” Ness called back as he hefted the platter up, balancing it on the anterior region of his forearm like he'd been taught so long ago, and traipsed back out. The door swung to and fro behind him as he headed over to Booth Five.

Though she wasn’t actually in the booth, Checkers was still right by her owner’s side, sitting in a way that could almost remind you of those lion statues guarding the entrance to a Chinese temple. She spotted Ness before Mason did. Her ears perked up, tail starting to wag. Her tongue lapped in and out of her mouth like a party favor as she smiled in that way only dogs could.

Mason, who’d been gazing through the window and fidgeting with his hoodie’s drawstrings, ever-so-slightly flinched as Ness began setting the plates down on the table with a chorus of small clunks. He blinked at the food, as if suddenly remembering the weekly tradition he’d made here.

“How do you always do that?” Mason asked as he turned his head toward Ness, a small smile etching its way across his features.

“Magic,” Ness answered. “Careful, it’s hot.”

He carried the now empty tray back over to the counter. There, his hands became a blur as he snatched up the coffee pot and produced a trio of mugs. After stirring memorized amounts of cream and sugar into the fresh brew, he returned to the table, setting two of the beverages beside the plates.

Ness hovered, his own cup of smoldering caffeine in hand, and glanced around the restaurant. Aside from Mason and those two writers in the corner (who, as Ness had learned, took generous amounts of time with the shakes they always ordered), Sparky’s was empty tonight.

With that in mind, Ness dragged a chair away from one of the other tables, positioning it at the end of the booth. Yeah, he could’ve just sat on the opposite side of Mason, but that part of the booth was typically reserved for another one of his friends.

Subtle relief washed over Ness’ knees as he took a seat; he’d been standing and walking pretty much all day.

Mason plucked a strip of bacon from one of the plates, checking to make sure that it was nice and warm without threatening to burn the palette. He then lightly tossed it over to Checkers, who snapped it out of the air almost like a frog catching flies. She lowered her head as the treat crunched between her teeth.

“How’ve things been?” Ness inquired, taking a sip of his coffee. “The theater’s gotten busy, yeah?”

Mason nodded as he took a fork and knife into his hands, cutting a piece off of one of the waffles and dipping it into the complimentary cup of syrup. “Yeah, it really has. Feels like whenever one movie runs its course and is taken off our roster, two more pop up in its place. Especially now that Scream 3 is finally on the market."

“. . .Oh, that’s right! It is!” Ness ever-so-slightly jumped in his seat. After enjoying the first two movies, he’d been meaning to give the latest installment a look. But so far, whether it was Sparky’s being slammed on the more favorable days or Royal Edgar’s Cinema being too crowded for his liking, things had just kept getting in the way.

Acting on instinct, Ness fished a pencil from one of his waist-apron’s pockets. At first, said pencil might not have seemed like anything special. But then you saw Fabio: a priceless treasure shaped like a rubber chicken’s head covering up the eraser. Ness started spinning the pencil between his fingers, causing Fabio to wiggle as though it was alive.

“Have you seen it already? Is it good? I have so many ideas about where the story could pick up from—”

“Hey, hey. Slow down," Mason remarked with some clear exasperation. “I haven't, but I am scheduled to project its last showing sometime next week. . .” He took a bite out of one of the chicken tenders, humming thoughtfully as he chewed. He must’ve seen the glint in Ness’ eyes, because he offered a sly smirk and lowered his voice as he continued.

“Tell you what: I’ll find a way to sneak you into the projection booth. That way, we can check it out together when the day comes.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?” Ness asked, jokingly clutching his mug in both hands and bringing it close to his heart.

“Sure. It’s really not too different from the customers smuggling their own snacks past the ticket desk,” Mason shrugged, though his mischievous demeanor briefly turned deadpan. “So long as you don’t play detective the entire time. My boss would rip me a new one if I just paused the movie every five minutes to let you brainstorm and talk.”

Ness scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It wouldn’t be every five minutes.”

Mason raised an eyebrow. “You’re right; it’d probably be every two minutes.” He forked up another bite of the waffles, firmly ignoring the offended waiter noises.

“Oh, and don’t try to guilt-trip me out of my food, either. I’ve already got one moocher to deal with.” Mason scratched Checkers’ ears, to which she responded via tilting her head to the side, an undeniable trace of smugness in the warmth of her amber eyes.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Ness pronounced, his voice dripping with much more sarcasm than usual, “but fine. I can work with that.”

“Uh-huh. You’d better,” Mason snorted, reaching over to shake hands with his friend as though the two of them were lawyers who’d just settled on some sleazy business arrangement.

Mason was a complex person. Everyone had issues, and he was no exception to that. Not like he was at all open about said issues, but once you got to know him, you’d start to see them. (Plus, that just seemed a lot nicer than describing him as a swarm of issues shaped like a man.) He was the type to constantly shift in his seat, to give most people the side-eye, to get lost in his thoughts and grimace at nothing until he snapped himself out of it.

At least he seemed content working at the theater. Even with the spark of horror that never seemed to leave his eyes, Mason was clearly a creative bastard. Sometimes he’d bring notebooks in and take breaks from his meal to fill their pages with paragraphs or sketches. He really did seem to have the potential for acting, maybe even directing. If his critiques and commentary on the movies he had to watch from the projection booth were anything to go by, then the projects he could possibly work on would be nothing short of awesome.

He’d actually been one of Freddy’s past security guards. Ironically enough, he and Ness hadn’t met there. Not that Ness minded, since A. if that’d been the case, there probably would’ve been way more confused screaming than there usually was at Sparky’s, and B. considering the fact that Mason’s employment had apparently lasted a whopping one singular night. . .

Ness still didn’t know the full story, and he could tell pressing Mason for info wouldn’t end well. But with the few snippets Jack had carefully enlightened him with. . .well—

Speak of the devil.

The front door’s bell only had about half a second to chime yet again, almost drowned out by rapid footsteps.

“You’re late,” Ness jokingly chastised as he caught dark brown skin and black hair in his peripheral vision. He shifted in his chair, moving his legs to make some room under the table as another one of his regular-friends hurried over to claim Booth Five’s empty seat.

“Yeah, yeah. Sue me,” Jack retorted, instantly propping his elbows on the table to knead at his forehead. It took a few long seconds for him to notice how one of his favorite dishes had apparently been waiting for him. He squinted at the food, then at Ness. “. . .I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to make it tonight?”

“And yet, here you are,” Ness replied, the definition of coy with how his shoulders popped up and down again.

Jack might’ve wanted to ask more questions, but Mason cut him off. “Look, I don’t get it either. He doesn’t know, but he just knows.”

Jack considered this, then tilted his head to convey the type of acceptance that only came when you couldn’t really question things that probably should be questioned because you already had too many things to focus on.

“Thanks, dude,” he murmured, nodding to Ness as he plucked one of the mozzarella sticks from his plate.

Ness nodded back, taking a few more gulps of coffee. “No problem.”

Jack paused mid-bite, eyes darting over to the brew that’d been poured for him. He scrutinized it, then raised the mug up and started chugging like a champ.

The display made Ness glad that he’d taken the time to experiment with coffee so long ago. There was no doubting how he could now calculate exactly how much time it took for coffee to go cold. Yeah, this particular serving had been fresh out of the pot a few minutes ago, but by now it had to be at optimal temperature. Neither scalding nor tepid: just nice and warm.

After about a moment, Jack pulled the now empty mug away from his face, taking a deep breath as he set it back down on the table.

“Rough day?” Ness inquired, specific parts of his brain starting to tick.

Something seemed off.

It wasn’t like he had any room to talk about slight bean juice addictions. And he certainly couldn’t blame Jack for a dependency (especially since he’d even shown some undeniable intrigue at Ness’ argument that coffee was a type of soup). Sure, Jack wasn’t narcoleptic, but when a day-and-night operating cabbie didn’t have access to some perks, things just wouldn’t go well for him or his passengers.

But whenever Jack popped in for a bite and a chat, it was easy to assume that he’d be heading home and going to bed right after his meal. Right now, however, his demeanor was anything but tired. His shoulders were rigid. His eyes were more or less threatening to pop right out of their sockets. In fact, he almost seemed to be weighing the options of never sleeping again.

Jack chewed his lip as he glanced in the waiter’s direction. He slowly nodded. “. . .You could say that.”

Ness exchanged glances with Mason, who had obviously seen the signs for himself. As did Checkers, since she quietly maneuvered around Ness’ chair to rest her head on Jack’s lap, peering up at him with an almost human-like air of understanding. Jack didn’t hesitate to pet the shiny fur along the dog’s neck, to which her tail started wagging but she otherwise remained still.

“What happened?” Mason asked, sitting up a little straighter. “If the vibes you’re giving off got her attention, then it must be something serious.”

Jack grimaced, closing his eyes with what seemed to be more force than necessary, taking a few long seconds to rub at their lids.

“Did you see any rabbit-shaped things out by the dumpster? I think they only come around once a month or so, but I always feel strange if I look at them.” The words glided out of Ness’ mouth and into the air before he could think.

Self-induced humiliation wrapped its awful, clammy hands around his ribcage as two confused glances were aimed in his direction.

“. . .What?” Jack and Mason blurted in near-perfect unison.

“What?” Ness echoed, blinking as his voice instantaneously grew a smidge louder than before. He rushed to plaster his typical, happy-go-lucky demeanor back onto his face, hoping that pretending he hadn’t spoken at all would convince his friends that he actually hadn’t.

Not only did his latest sentence sound weird as all hell, but it’d also been downplayed as all hell. Because when Ness had said strange, what he’d really meant was the pounding, churning, pummeling agony that should only ever be present in your stomach after you’ve accidentally swallowed a few dozen live rats that just so happen to be whacked out on cocaine for whatever godforsaken reason.

And while he wasn’t a perfect angel, Ness would never wish that particular pain on anyone else. So, the fewer people who knew about the floppy-eared cryptids (which Ness could’ve sworn looked like they’d been covered in mucus) that were apparently engrossed in gang warfare with the local raccoons, the better.

“Ah, did you get a bad passenger today?” Ness coughed. Jack had to deal with as many entitled idiots as Ness, if not even more. Hell, taking turns venting about that stuff was something they’d initially bonded over.

He peered through the window next to the booth—Jack’s cab was parked close enough to see that there wasn’t anything to indicate an accident. Not a life-threateningly serious one, at least.

“Not exactly,” Jack replied, following his gaze. Where Ness’ eyes were curious, Jack’s were currently anxious and mistrusting. That was another red flag: Jack may not have treated his taxi like it was his baby, but he still took pretty good care of it. “Just a few more weirdos.”

Mason hummed, tilting his head. “How weird specifically?” He’d heard plenty of Jack’s tales from the road; as he called on Jack for rides somewhat often, he’d even ended up being part of those tales.

Jack knitted his brows, fidgeted in place. “You don't want to know."

“. . .Then why did you make it sound so damn vague?” Mason retorted, now dripping with incredulousness. “The less specific details are, then the more they’re gonna nag at someone’s brain.”

“He’s got a point,” Ness agreed, lightly tapping Fabio’s pencil against his mug.

“Like that’s my fault,” Jack snorted. “Most people wouldn’t believe me if I told them.”

Ness offered an encouraging smile. “Good thing we’re not most people, then.”

Mason nodded. “Damn right. C’mon, Jack; are you really saying something could top the crackhead I had to share the backseat with last month?”

“Yes, I am,” Jack whisper-shouted through gritted teeth, “because it was a bear!”

Silence (save for the soft click-clack of keyboards from the corner of the diner, that is).

Jack pursed his lips, looking equal parts exasperated and worried. He sighed yet again, reaching up to press his fingers against his temples.

“. . .What kind of bear was it?” Ness eventually tried.

Mason, who’d previously been squinting while his mouth opened and closed with no words coming out, turned his head to face Ness with such speed and force that he might’ve actually given himself whiplash. “That’s the first thing you focus on?!”

Ness made a shaky lame gesture. “It’s a fair question! What’re you focusing on?” (He wasn’t wrong. There was a lot of variety among bears, after all. And a bear that lived in the woods and had huge claws and could outeat, outrun, outswim, and probably even outdrink the average person would be a lot more to handle than one of the bears that had attended the latest local Pride parade.)

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you,” Mason declared, returning his attention to Jack, “look significantly less mauled than most people who get close to bears! Seriously, how is your face still connected to your skull?!”

“I didn’t mea—!” Jack was about to go on the defensive, but stopped short. “What, were you expecting me to get ripped to shreds tonight? So damn sorry if I didn’t get the memo!”

“No! Of course not!” Mason contended. “Look, you can’t just say you had a run-in with a bear and leave it at that!”

Jack threw his hands up. “Well, I told you you didn’t want to know!”

“How the hell can we not NEED to know now?” Ness pointed out. Though he was growing just as confused as Mason, he tried to keep his voice even.

Jack gave him an exhausted look before craning his neck to rest his head against the booth’s seat, staring at the ceiling.

“It was a huge robot,” he finally clarified. “Looked like it’d been at the bottom of a scrap heap for years; I’d guess it was older than my dad. But its eye glowed blue like the machines inside it were still working. It made the car shake—I’m honestly surprised the back tires never gave out. And God damn, the smell. . .rust and blood and mucus, I swear!”

Now it was Mason’s turn to go rigid. A tidal wave of emotion seemed to sweep through his features; first surprise, then recognition, and then dread. He placed a hand on the nearest corner of the table as if to steady himself.

“It was wearing a black top hat and bowtie, wasn’t it?” He murmured. It sounded much more like a statement than a question, and the way his tone had become so hollow didn’t help.

Jack lowered his head, clearly unsure whether or not to make eye-contact as he nodded.

“Sounds like the way Freddy was designed. . .” Ness mused without quite meaning to.

Memories of the huge sign that had been built to loom over the old pizzeria’s front entrance flooded into his head. The blinking lights that bordered the establishment’s title and seemed to chase each other around and around and around. The life-sized cutout of the one and only Freddy Fazbear himself, using one paw to adjust his bowtie and the other to wave, seemingly beckoning customers to wander inside.

Those memories dissolved as Ness winced and glanced back at Mason, who was now reaching up with a shaking hand to grasp at his hoodie’s collar, tugging it to cover up the top of an old, deep scar that dragged along the skin of his neck. Ness shuffled in his seat, trying not to stare at how quickly the color drained from his friend’s face.

Checkers was back by Mason’s side in an instant, bracing her paws against the seat as she licked at his face. Mason blinked, a huge shudder rippling through his chest as he hugged his pet.

A few minutes dragged by, feeling like an hour apiece and jeering at the trio as they went.

“So.” Mason finally announced, still keeping his gentle-yet-obviously-desperate hold on Checkers. “Let me get this straight: that. . .that thing got into your cab like it paid rent just a few hours ago?”

Jack pursed his lips, nodding again. “There was a kid with it, too. A little girl. She didn’t even seem scared at all. The whole ride, she was smiling and hugging the bear’s arm—”

“Wait, you actually drove it somewhere?!” Mason demanded.

Jack sputtered. “What other choice did I have?!”

“I mean, that’s kind of literally his job,” Ness mentioned.

True, he was grappling with the fact that he and his friends had apparently been transported into some cheap bizzarofiction novel. And yet, somehow, this wasn’t even the craziest story that’d been relayed to him from a customer. He peered down at Fabio as though it was about to start contributing to this conversation. “Where did you take them?”

Jack raised an eyebrow at Ness (which he guessed couldn’t be helped. Ness already had an idea, but it was rude to just assume, wasn’t it?). “Where else? That old pizza joint you’ve been trying to write an encyclopedia on.”

Mason was about to say something else, but stopped short in favor of turning his shock toward Ness.

Ness raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “Look, I know you don’t like that place, but just remember that I don’t question what you do with your free-time.”

“That’s right. And even if you did, you wouldn’t have to, because I don’t spend my free-time poking around the fourth Circle of Hell!” Mason snarked.

“I won’t lie and say it’s not creepy,” Ness admitted, unable to stop a chill from racing down his spine at the memory of the restaurant’s grimy wall posters, the draft that always seemed to be in the air over there, the disturbingly sour tang of what he’d hoped was just ancient pizza sauce, “but that still seems pretty harsh.”

Mason gawked, fragments of words leaking through his teeth.

“If we’re looking at the bigger picture,” Jack coughed, probably attempting to steer Mason away from a potential stroke, “then nothing really happened tonight. The bear didn’t even make a peep the whole time. I didn’t get hurt, and that girl didn’t get hurt. She even left a handful of change when we got to the restaurant.”

Ness squinted and tilted his head at that. As far as he knew, the rules Jack applied to his cab were pretty lax and basic, but he’d always been firm on never taking money from lone child passengers.

Then again, if the child passenger in question was traveling with a huge robotic animal that apparently had enough sentience to use a taxi in the first place, it was probably best to just go along with whatever happened and leave the sanity-questioning session for later.

Jack fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. “. . .That actually wasn’t even the worst part of tonight’s shift.”

Mason leaned back against the leather seat, looking very much lightheaded. His eyes bulged from their sockets as he furiously motioned for his friend to elaborate.

Jack hesitated before explaining, “Well, once the girl and the bear were out, I decided to just call it a day. After I got far enough away from the pizzeria, I parked by one of the downtown curbs and switched the car’s sign to Off Duty. I was trying to get a catnap in—”

“It’s a miracle you could even try to sleep after that damn bear basically held you hostage,” Mason interjected.

“—when someone knocked on the window. I told ‘em to read the sign and come find me later, but they opened up the door and got in anyway. So, I was about to kick them out and. . .” Jack trailed off, shaking his shoulders as though a few dozen cockroaches had spontaneously taken up nest in his jacket.

“And. . .?” Ness echoed, the curiosity-concern cocktail in his mind getting stronger.

“And there was some tiny doll in my passenger seat,” Jack concluded. “Looked creepy as hell.”

Ness hummed in consideration. “Sounds like it could just be a weird prank? The teens in that area are always following strange trends.”

Jack nervously shook his head. “I couldn’t see anyone outside the cab. It only took a few seconds for me to look; there’s no way anyone could move fast enough to hide after they put the doll in.”

“A tiny doll. . ?” Mason’s brow furrowed in thought for a couple seconds, then promptly returned to its collision course for Mars. He leaned over the table. “Did it have bug-eyes and buck teeth? Was it wearing one of those stupid propeller hats and holding a red-and-yellow striped balloon?”

Jack’s face contorted in confusion as he nodded. “. . .That pretty much sums it up.”

Though his expression was still grim, Mason’s fear quickly metamorphosed into some good ol’ fashioned aggravation. “That’s the bastard,” he seethed, knuckles turning white.

Jack blinked, perplexity slowly overtaking his latest case of heebie-jeebies. “Wait, you’ve seen that thing before?”

“I have, unfortunately.” Mason grimaced. An odd type of adrenaline etched its way across his face. “Is it still in the cab?”

Jack nodded again. “I didn’t want to risk touching it.”The words were barely out of his mouth when Mason rose from the booth and stalked outside through Sparky’s front entrance. Checkers trotted after him, the tiredness of an actual nurse flickering in her eyes.

Ness and Jack basically had frontrow seats to observe their friend approaching Jack’s cab, ripping the passenger-side door open and fishing something out before slamming it closed again.

With that, Mason raced to the edge of the parking lot and proceeded to dropkick what had to be the mysterious balloon-toting doll out of sight.

Despite his shock, part of Ness still felt relieved that Mason hadn’t simply deposited it into the dumpster. Just in case those awful rabbit-looking things happened to be paying a visit tonight. . .

@sammys-magical-au @that-bat @th3w00ds @bee-the-matpat-simp @touyubesposts @crazy-obsessed-enby @i-used-to-wear-the-fedora @holyawesomestitches @s-e-v-e-n-24 @sotogalmo @ciphershadow @deethedustyassdumbass @theechoingmadness @its-a-goddamn-ass-race @zam-witch @box-goat @redd-byrd @icantmakeupagoodname @pleasedontmind-the-emerald @transparentghosty @vegaslvrr @itzqueers-blog @wannabeavocaloidmystery @shivr0ygf @ciara-clycone @not-made-of-actual-rye @m0on-shro0m @imafruitbowl @azure-trash @il0v3mus1cals @v1r-x @kafkaisnotdead @junaslagoon @alicethemenace @ilovenikkisixx @m00nlight-mexican @w0rd3855 @head-without-a-fucking-brain. @unkn0wn-nys @not-made-of-actual-rye @101k-t101 @theonlykala @dividel @riff-is-on-a-fucking-crisis @roselily2006 @max-afton @abe-the-detective-blog @floating-above-sea-level @madhare051

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maniacwatchestheworld · 4 months

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Things to do with Jack and Maddie without them being abusive

As someone who actually likes Jack and Maddie as characters (I'm a fervent shipper of Maddie/Jack/Vlad), it's a real bummer to see so many people out there deciding that for their DPxDC AUs that Jack and Maddie are abusive, when that really doesn't represent how they are in canon. Now I fully acknowledge that doing this can be a very useful tool for telling certain types of stories, and if you want to make a story about recovering from abuse and finding a new found family, all the more power to you for that! But for any other type of story where them being abusive isn't necessary for the backstory of the story you want to tell... It's just a bummer to do that, y'know? If you don't want to tell a story with Jack and Maddie in it, that's entirely fine! I'm not asking you to. But there are ways to get rid of them without making them abusive or dying. Of the two, I personally would prefer them dying (I just like the story potential of that, especially as far as Vlad is concerned). But there are plenty of easy things to do with them to keep them out of the story that don't require them being abusive or dead! So I'm here to give a list of things that can happen to them (that have precedent within either Danny Phantom itself or the DC universe) that keep them out of the story that don't require much explanation as well as some other ideas for what you can do with them if you have no idea what to do with them otherwise.

Lots of ideas under the cut! (Feel free to take what you want. As always, credit is appreciated, but not necessary. But I would love to see what you do with it!)

If you need them permanently absent so that Danny can get adopted

Fell into the Ghost Zone and cannot be found.

They are gone for whatever reason and Jazz is currently Danny's legal guardian (she's 18 or older and is therefore a legal adult).

While in the Ghost Zone, they accidentally traveled through time/got transported somewhere where they can't get home easily.

They got severely Joker gassed and are in medical care. (This is actually what happened to Duke's parents!)

They got severely Scarecrow gassed and are in medical care.

Went insane for some supervillain-related reason and are now missing/in medical care.

They were kidnapped by a villain for some reason.

They were kidnapped by a villain and are currently in a lotus-eaters simulation and therefore don't even know that they've gone missing.

Abducted by aliens.

They got wrapped up in some supervillain bullshit and now have amnesia and are unable to recognize Danny and Jazz.

They got magicked into something that can't take care of Danny and Jazz.

They were experimented on and are now incapable of taking care of Danny and Jazz.

Some cosmic entity did a whoopsie that effected Jack and Maddie and now they're in a condition/situation where they cannot take care of Danny and Jazz.

Got arrested and are in jail for some reason.

Were arrested and sent to jail for a long time. Have since joined Task Force X/the Suicide Squad for lienency.

Got hit by a stray Zeta-Beam and are now on some alien planet.

They got teleported somehow. We aren't certain about the details.

They fell into a hole to another world.

They no-clipped out of their normal reality.

Stranded with no way home.

They somehow ended up on a different planet. They are just hanging out with Space Cabbie now, who is just having a ROUGH day and can't find Earth for whatever reason.

Inducted into a Lantern Corps and are VERY busy because of it!

Coma.

Effected by a debilitating illness/disease/condition that makes them incapable of taking care of others.

They were forced to go undercover for some reason and therefore vanished. (Letting their kids know is optional)

They were forced to go undercover for some reason and were forced to fake their deaths.

They died, but came back to life. Danny has not been informed of this.

They got possessed by a superhero or supervillain who just wandered off with their bodies.

They got separated following a disaster and haven't been able to find each other again.

They've been retconned to hell and back again to the point where no one is entirely certain where they are, what they're doing, or even if they're alive anymore. Don't worry about it! Only mention them when it's relevant and the rest of the time we aren't going to bother explaining what's going on with them. If they are mentioned, accounts of where they are and what's going on with them are contradictory.

They're around, but will go unseen throughout this story

Any of the situations in the previous section, but it only happened to one of the parents, and the other is just too busy working and taking care of the kids by themselves.

The same as previous, but they also moved to Gotham.

Retcon things so that the events of Danny Phantom actually happened in Gotham City all along. (Maybe Amity Park is like... A suburb in the greater Gotham area.)

They went on vacation/were hired for a job that would take them away from home. They left Danny and Jazz to be taken care of by Vlad. Vlad is an asshole, so they ran away from him.

They went on vacation/were hired for a job that would take them away from home, but now that Jazz is over 18, she's been left in charge.

Put into Witness Protection by the government/the Guys in White.

Danny and friends have graduated from high school and are now legal adults, perhaps in college.

Danny's whole family moved to Gotham City. They're just at home/working during the events of this story.

Jack and Maddie have been hired to do some work with the Justice League and need to be away from home for an extended period of time. They have left a member of the Justice League to take care of Danny and Jazz in the meantime.

Fieldtrip/school trip to Gotham City.

Danny is old and responsible enough that Jack and Maddie trust Danny (and/or Jazz) to travel on their own. His parents are just a call away if he needs help.

Jack and Maddie are separated for whatever reason (one went missing/one is working abroad/they are divorced/one died) and the other moved to Gotham and is taking care of the kids in the meantime, but is busy and so will not appear.

Something happened to Fenton Works and the family needs to temporarily stay somewhere else while the problem with Fenton Works is sorted.

The family was driven out of town and they ran off to Gotham to escape the angry mob. (Or at least to wait until things cool down again.)

Jack or Maddie are able to work remotely and so they've moved to Gotham to do so. The kids came along/are visiting.

Jack and/or Maddie were hired for temporary work in Gotham and decided to bring the kids along.

One family member was taken to Arkham Asylum. They moved to Gotham to be closer.

Jazz went to Gotham for college. Danny is visiting.

Danny is sent to Gotham/Arkham for specialized health reasons.

Jack and Maddie have gotten in contact with a specialist that lives in Gotham and are visiting for work-related reasons.

They are on vacation in Gotham and brought the kids along. Danny and Jazz have been let off the leash to go where they want while Jack and Maddie do touristy stuff.

Visiting family/family friends living in Gotham.

They were passing through but are now unable to leave. (Bonus points if it's a No Man's Land situation.)

They were passing through, but were robbed. Jack and Maddie are dealing with the robbery stuff where Danny is off somewhere else.

They were just passing through, but Maddie and Jack got SEVERELY distracted by something and have run off to who knows where!

They are traveling with Vlad and expected Vlad to take care of and watch the kids!

Danny was abducted to Gotham.

Danny accidently ended up in Gotham somehow.

Danny somehow got transported/teleported to Gotham.

Doing an educational trip/apprenticeship/internship over in Gotham.

Danny ran away impulsively.

Some villain threatened Danny's family and forced him to run away from home.

Danny has revealed his secret to his parents, and while they might worry about Danny being a vigilante, believe in and trust Danny to do the right thing and allow him to do what he feels that he must to protect people.

The same as above, but Vlad also came out and is supervising.

They died.

I cannot understate the sheer JUICY storytelling potential that you can have by killing Jack and Maddie off! We already know how it might effect people and events from what we see in The Ultimate Enemy, but there really is limitless potential in terms of ways to twist, turn, and play with things to have different outcomes! Additionally, Jack and Maddie being genuinely good parents that die protecting Danny and Jazz offers lots of ways for Bruce to relate to Danny and Jazz! (He decided to become Batman so that no one would have to face what he did ever again... And he failed...) And the way that they die can offer some lovely different flavors of angst, coping mechanisms, motovations, and learning to deal with their loss. So here are some ideas for how to kill them off!

The universe exploded again, and when it was put back together, Jack and Maddie ceased to exist in current canon continuity. (This happens more often than you'd think.)

Vlad Wins.

They were killed in an apocalypse-level event.

They were killed in the crossfire of some superhero/supervillain fight.

They were taken by some villain. They were killed before the heroes could arrive.

They were killed in a random act of violence/crime. (Much like Batman's backstory. Do this to gain extra points from Bruce.)

Died in prison/after joining the Suicide Squad.

Gang violence.

Any of the previous but Gotham is just THAT dangerous!

Same as any gassing or supervillain plan, but they died instead of being missing or in medical care.

Got transported to a place where they died very far away from home.

They just died suddenly or because of an accident. It happens sometimes.

Things to note

Believe it or not, but your parents can still be in your life AND you can join the Batfamily AT THE SAME TIME! :D

Examples:

Barbra Gordon is very much in the Batfamily and both of her parents are alive and well. She's a very important part of the family, and in the comics, it is not uncommon to see her calling up her dad and talking to him! They'll even call each other if they need help with something. This does not take away from the fatherly role Bruce often has in her life. (She can have 2 dads and good for her for that!)

When Tim initially became Robin, his parents were alive and well. They would later die because comic writers are just like that, but being an orphan without loving parents in your life is not a prerequisite to being Robin.

Duke's parents are also alive! They are under the effects of Joker toxin, but they are alive, and if they ever find a cure for it, I imagine that they would be more than happy to have Duke back in their lives!

Terry from Batman Beyond is not an orphan and was taken under Bruce's wing to be the next Batman! Terry is even going to inherit a fair amount of Bruce's wealth for deciding to take on the responsibility of being Batman. But while his dad did die, his mom is still alive and well over the course of the series! And he has a little brother too! Terry may still be a teenager, but he is a bit of a breadwinner for his household while also still being an important part of Bruce's family. (He is often someone who helps Bruce take care of himself.)

But if the story you truly want to explore requires being adopted specifically... Well... You don't have to be a kid to be adopted! Jack and Maddie can still raise Danny and Jazz into adults and Bruce is able to adopt them later if he wants, once they have been well and established in his family! Hell, you don't even have to wait! As long as Bruce asks permission from Jack and Maddie, they can be alive AND he can adopt Danny! There is more than one way to be in a family, you know! And sometimes it takes a village! And really, would Jack and Maddie really object to Danny being adopted by billionaire Bruce Wayne, especially if Danny really is enjoying his time being a part of his family and if Bruce has been an absolutely lovely person to them whenever he visits?

So I hope that you're able to take some inspiration from all of this for your own stories! If you need some elaboration on what I mean with some of these, or want to ask who could be responsible for some of these and how, feel free to drop on by and send me an ask! I would be more than happy to go into some more detail about these! Happy writing!

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #jack fenton #maddie fenton #dp x dc au

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wouldntyou-liketoknow · 6 months

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I'd Like to Adopt These Side Characters, Please (And Also Make One Arbitrarily To Appease The Vibes)

So, I've already mentioned my plans to write something for our dear single-minute-of-screentime-boys from the FNAF movie. And, as per usual for me, posting some headcanons will help the ideas flow for that WIP. . .

___

Jack Samar

His passengers always are, in fact, "the weirdos." It just seems to happen without fail. College partygoers crashing down from adrenaline (among other things) highs, random drifters that could all probably be in the same cult if you pay attention to detail, that one guy who's all too happy to take advantage of the open secret that the ducks in the park are free. . .Most of the time, it's nothing too serious. But he's still got some very interesting stories here and there.

He's one of the best drivers in town. And that's not just due to his job as a cabbie; he knows how dangerous driving can be, so he takes pride in making sure his skills are sharp. (Seriously, if you've ever driven a car, then you know it's practically a miracle to see someone else on the road who actually knows what they're doing.)

He has a steel-trap memory; he knows every part of town like the back of his hand. Constantly driving on various routes just has that effect on you.

He's a bit of a rescuer. As in, if he happens to see a stray animal while driving, then he'll park, coax said animal into the car, and then drop it off at at the local shelter. If you have him drive you from Point A to Point B, there's a good chance you'll spot a scruffy-looking cat or dog riding shotgun.

If he isn't too tired at the end of his shifts, he'll drive over to Sparky's for a late-night snack before heading home to rest. Both he and Ness are good listeners, so a decent chunk their banter is dedicated to venting about sucky patrons.

He's certainly aware of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzaria, as well as the rumors surrounding it, but he never really bothered with the place. And he doesn't plan to start bothering with it after seeing Golden Freddy in the back of his taxi.

Although. . .well, that occurrence might have made him start weighing the pros and cons of trying to get more information out of Mason. (He's very much hesitant about it, of course. Yeah, he was the one to help Mason out, but the assumption of Mason's experience with Freddy's is still far from pleasant.)

(Yes, his name is a pun inspired by Cory's samurai joke. What did you expect from me?)

___

Ness Aeoruhndbt-Ultendera

"Ness" is only his nickname, but he doesn't plan on revealing his full name anytime soon. Not even to his friends, for whatever reason. There's also a bit of an inside joke about how his surname is too long to actually fit on his nametag. (Yes, that gibberish my personal idea for his surname. I spent way more time working on it than I probably should have because I was determined to make a weird/funny reference, so leave me alone, okay?!)

He's been in the restaurant business ever since he was a kid; he's worked in several different joints before Sparky's. Coming from a family of foodies, he truly enjoys what he does, no matter how small-scale. Sure, some days are worse than others, but that's just life.

Similarly to Jack, it's not that uncommon for him to serve some strange characters. (Hell, sometimes the strange characters in question will wave down Jack's cab right after they've finished their meal at Sparky's.) Nothing usually comes of it, but he's still more than observant enough to pick up on certain oddities.

He makes a genuine effort to be polite and outgoing with customers. But make no mistake, he absolutely can, has, and will verbally curb-stomp someone if they push him or his coworkers too far. (Aunt Jane was lucky that her jab was minor. Plus, Ness just had other customers to focus on.)

It's no surprise that he LOVES conspiracy theories. Now, he knows which crackpot rabbit-holes to avoid, but he's still the type to listen to true crime podcasts almost religiously. In a way, researching and brainstorming is a comfort to him.

He's actually developed legitimate friendships with a specific few of Sparky's regulars. (Jack and Mason are part of this camp.) In fact, if there aren't many other customers that need tending to, he'll sit down and chat with them while they eat.

While he's perky during the day, he's still a night owl. It helps that his regular-friends almost always stop by in the late hours. (This has also paved the way for him to become a bit of a coffee-addict, but not to the point of concern. Speaking of which: he takes great joy in people's reactions to his argument that coffee is actually a type of soup.)

Oh, and that rubber-chicken-head-pencil-topper? Its name is Fabio, and Ness has been carrying it for several years now. He can't remember where/when/how he came into possession of Fabio, but you can pry it from his cold, dead hands.

___

Mason Kingsley

I wasn't originally planning to make a technical fanego for the FNAF movie. But after I learned that Mark was intended to make a cameo, I was intrigued. Thus, Mason—aka Trauma Boi—was born. His inclusion here (and in that future story I mentioned) is basically just a "What if?" scenario. As in, A. What if Mark had actually played the role of that first nightguard in the movie, and B. what if he'd actually survived his ordeal at Freddy's. . .?

Please read "survived," as "escaped by the skin of his teeth with grievous injuries and is now sort of dead inside."

Fittingly enough, Jack happened to by passing by when Mason fled the restaurant. It's pretty damn easy to stop for a guy who's covered in blood and cradling a broken arm and screaming for help.

After Jack drove Mason to the hospital, the two of them made an effort to stay in touch. Their respective patronage to Sparky's helps out with that.

Time passed, as it tends to do, and Mason eventually recovered. Keep in mind that the recovery was physical; he's still having night-terrors about animatronic monsters. Just the mention of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzaria will make him start shaking and murmuring under his breath, pale and tense.

He absolutely refuses to talk about the incident in detail, but it left some very obvious scars on his neck, chest, and arms. He's constantly trying to keep said scars covered.

Silver lining: shortly after recovering, Mason was able to adopt a therapy pet. Enter Checkers, a golden retriever who's just the best emotionally-tuned girl and is always by his side.

He stops by Sparky's for dinner once or twice per week. He wasn't too receptive to Ness' chitchat at first, but by now they have a solid friendship. (It started when Ness "accidentally" brought out a large side of bacon with Mason's order. Checkers most certainly appreciated that, so it's become a small tradition between them.)

(And just to clarify, because I KNOW someone is gonna read this and take it the wrong way: I'm NOT using this to try and whine about Mark's absence in the movie. It's really not too hard to understand that his own Iron Lung project has kept him INCREDIBLY BUSY. It's an amazing accomplishment for him, so of course it should take priority over a cameo in FNAF.)

___

@sammys-magical-au @that-bat @bee-the-matpat-simp @insane4fandoms

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