FunkyKazoo

FNaF Oc Bio Name: Stacey the Stork Programmed Gender: Female Species modeled after: Stork Programmed age: Mid-late twenties Duration of service: Fredbear’s Family Diner opening-closing Height: 10’ (not including hat) Fur color: White with a blue vest Eye color: Green (sometimes switch to black during day, always black at night) Function: Before Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica preformed onstage, Stacey would pull a piece of paper out from her bag of “mail” and “read” the names of the birthday boys and girls, wishing them all a happy birthday. Before the restaurant opened every day, these names were progr

Marionette rested its thin back against the wall of its cage, lulled by the comforting melody of the familiar music box that echoed through the halls of the empty restaurant. The simple jingle was all that Marionette had left. The last memory of when it was a child, so very long ago… Suddenly Marionette lurched forwards, startled by the sound of movement outside the prize corner. Cautiously, it peeked its head out of the top of the box it was confined in, its black eyes scanning the darkness of the room. Nothing. Its probably the animatronics… Thought Marionette. It was time to get the guard. Who knows, maybe this time he'll be th

Notes: I would just like to say, I know that so far, this has been a tiny bit unrealistic, but that's okay! Creative license, right? Anyways, just wanted to apologize for being slightly unrealistic in the beginning, buuut I hope you liked in anyways. Also, there's more fluff in this chapter, because I just love it! Thanks readers! =) Chapter Three: Home "Just here, please," John told the cabbie. Sherlock got an alarmed look on his face. "Wait, where are you going? We aren't home yet," he asked as John began to get out of the now-stopped cab. "Sherlock," John said as if Sherlock was a small child, "you're taking care of a baby. We have t

Chapter Two: Hamish "John, don't say anything," began Sherlock, "but I'm taking this child home with me today." Lestrade turned around, a very confused look on his face at Sherlock's last comment. But upon turning around, and seeing the baby in his arms, Lestrade's mouth, too, hung open. "What?" John began, tripping over his own words. "No, Sherlo— It's—You can't just—" John stuttered. "John, do please get it out," Sherlock sighed. "N-no!" John practically squeaked. "John, I told you not to say anything," Sherlock scolded. "And please be quiet, he's sleeping." Sherlock made a gesture with his head to the sleeping figur