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Description
I'm getting over my aversion to drawing simple character portraits. I've been getting so caught up in making sure every peice has some kind of plot to it that I've been neglecting to draw characters just because I've not gotten around to thier plotline yet.

So I've decided that if it looks cool when someone else does it, it'll look cool when I do it, and I drew just a normal drawing of Julian. I added some background elements, but it looks cool and adds to the atmosphere.

But I made a story anyway.

[BC]=°•.🌹 Story 🌹.•°=

[C]°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•🌹•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°

Julian sung a lyricless tune to himself as he danced around his darkroom.

Photographs hung on washing lines that spanned across the room, turning it into a spiders web of photographs. The only light source came from a set of dim red fairy lights strung up across the walls.

Despite his blindness in one eye and the dim lighting, Julian navigated the room with grace as he plucked photographs out of the developing fluid and pegged them onto free space on the web of washing lines. This was his room, his territory, and he knew exactly what he was doing.

Once the spoils from his most recent outing were all hung up to dry, he remembered how he took these photographs in the first place.

Ancient animatronics festering in old back rooms were the easy shots. All he had to do was get in and find them.

Getting to see them walk around was more dangerous, but it was so rewarding.

Sometimes, he'd go to a franchise that was capitalising off of Freddy's bad reputation, trying to pull off the art of animatronic performers, but they all ended the same way Fazbear's did, and Julian was always there to capture the downfall in individual images, frozen in time. The fear from finding out the suits are haunted. The attacks the animatronics would make. The sadness of those related to the ones that were lost this time. Sometimes, Julian would put himself in danger just to get a good and intimidating photo of particularly reputation ruining bots, and it was better him than some random who didn't know what they were doing anyway.

If that's what his dad and his mate's justification for staying at one of those places for so long was, he could use the same excuse.

Over the years, Julian had collected many scars that complimented the scratches over his eye. Each scar told as much of a story as each photograph he took, and his most recent was one he was quite proud of.

For his most recent collection, he had decided to take a night shift himself at a restaurant that was roumored to be haunted, and knowing that the place wouldn't last more than a week, he had an easy way out of this part time night shift. Whilst the animatronics stalked him, he took photograph after photograph. He stole glimpses at the bodies inside the suits, and broken machinery that moved, and ghosts wandering the halls. Each of these were caught on his trusty camera. Photographs that would be used to bring justice and closure for those who have lost and have been lost.

With a slight chuckle, he thought to himself "I'm not doing that bad for a rookie!"

He had always found it funny that whenever people saw him at his day job, they'd question how someone of his young age - he was bearly an adult - could possibly be able to work amongst elites of crime scene photography? How did someone so young have the skills to take photographs of crime scenes? What people didn't think to realise was that his skill was from years of macabre practice.

What people also didn't know about him was how exactly macabre his personal training in this field was; he had honed his skills to the point at where the station would take him on for such delicate work usually reserved for veterans of the job by putting himself through the ordeal of observing the aftermath of vile scenes; a thing that comes part and parcel with hunting ghosts. Well, many people didn't know about that night job of his anyway. The aforementioned one where he hunted down and took photographs of supernatural entities. So this was to be expected.

All his day job photos were digital and processed at work.

But all the photos in his darkroom were his own night work.

The more evidence based ones would be sent in as an anonymous tip, but the more dynamic ones where the animatronics would be showing their teeth or lunging at him would be shared online under the pseudonym "LittleRedPhotographer" - a reference to the story of little red riding hood. He would show others his findings, but not too much as to not become too notorious. Only the 'clean' photographs would be shared under his pseudonym, so no corpses, only the ghosts themselves, and nothing that would make people ask too many questions. Sometimes, too much attention was a bad thing, and when taking photographs of ghosts, taking believable photographs that toe the line between safe and vile was a tough job, but Julian executed the task with elegance and precision.

He looked around at his most recent collection and begun to rearrange them on the line, figuring out which ones were evidence based, which ones were fun, and which were better left for his personal collection.

Looking at a photo that had been on the line for a while, he recalled last week's work: an investigation sparked by his own anonymous tip.

The scene of a triple homicide, the use of spring lock suits to hold the bodies, and the suits failing due to the bodily fluids. Many other photographers had had to dip out before the visions of the scene permanently burned its way into thier minds, but Julian was able to stay there all day. It wasn't unusual for someone who grew up around the dead and undead to be this desensitised to gore, but to an outsider, sometimes his guts and confidence in the face of the most grotesque scenes would get him mistook for a professional - something he didn't mind, even though he was still a little wet around the ears regarding more professional shots. His mentors would aid him in what to take photographs of and a vauge guide on what angles to use, and Julian would put his own spin on things, his iron stomach and steel will carrying him through the long days, letting him get closer to the corpses than any of the others dared to in order to take more detailed photographs. Besides, he had already been here to sneak photos from the outside, so it's not like the scene was new and shocking anymore. It was only now he was able to see the finer details of the grizzly innards of this location, so he may as well make the most of it.

His attention turned back to a photograph of interest.

That dramatic photograph of the view from outside the saferoom window that was still on the washing line despite having been dried for over a week. It's not that he didn't want to put it away; he just couldn't be bothered to find out where it should go. Was it tasteful enough for his blog, or was it destined for the shoebox.

Gently plucking the photograph off the line and sitting down on his bed, he studied the photograph.

As he assessed the shadows of the photograph, he determined that it was alright to share. Only the back of the suit was visible, and the blood had pooled out of frame, so it was tasteful enough, but it wasn't boring either. He decided he'd make the final decision on that tomorrow.

Because today, he was processing a new batch of photos. Photos took at yet another location. He had to sneak in to the long abandoned building and had gotten some amazing photographs of animatronics charging at him and stalking the halls.

He sometimes wondered what would happen if he stayed around the same animatronics for too long. Would he wind up like his dad with the animatronics trying to use him, or would these animatronics not care for who someone really was and just kill him. Besides, it was better to not get caught than wonder what would happen if you did.

[C]°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•🌹•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°

Link to my amino blogs:
aminoapps.com/p/9e5ejc
aminoapps.com/p/uxwzqfk

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

Description
I'm getting over my aversion to drawing simple character portraits. I've been getting so caught up in making sure every peice has some kind of plot to it that I've been neglecting to draw characters just because I've not gotten around to thier plotline yet.

So I've decided that if it looks cool when someone else does it, it'll look cool when I do it, and I drew just a normal drawing of Julian. I added some background elements, but it looks cool and adds to the atmosphere.

But I made a story anyway.

[BC]=°•.🌹 Story 🌹.•°=

[C]°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•🌹•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°

Julian sung a lyricless tune to himself as he danced around his darkroom.

Photographs hung on washing lines that spanned across the room, turning it into a spiders web of photographs. The only light source came from a set of dim red fairy lights strung up across the walls.

Despite his blindness in one eye and the dim lighting, Julian navigated the room with grace as he plucked photographs out of the developing fluid and pegged them onto free space on the web of washing lines. This was his room, his territory, and he knew exactly what he was doing.

Once the spoils from his most recent outing were all hung up to dry, he remembered how he took these photographs in the first place.

Ancient animatronics festering in old back rooms were the easy shots. All he had to do was get in and find them.

Getting to see them walk around was more dangerous, but it was so rewarding.

Sometimes, he'd go to a franchise that was capitalising off of Freddy's bad reputation, trying to pull off the art of animatronic performers, but they all ended the same way Fazbear's did, and Julian was always there to capture the downfall in individual images, frozen in time. The fear from finding out the suits are haunted. The attacks the animatronics would make. The sadness of those related to the ones that were lost this time. Sometimes, Julian would put himself in danger just to get a good and intimidating photo of particularly reputation ruining bots, and it was better him than some random who didn't know what they were doing anyway.

If that's what his dad and his mate's justification for staying at one of those places for so long was, he could use the same excuse.

Over the years, Julian had collected many scars that complimented the scratches over his eye. Each scar told as much of a story as each photograph he took, and his most recent was one he was quite proud of.

For his most recent collection, he had decided to take a night shift himself at a restaurant that was roumored to be haunted, and knowing that the place wouldn't last more than a week, he had an easy way out of this part time night shift. Whilst the animatronics stalked him, he took photograph after photograph. He stole glimpses at the bodies inside the suits, and broken machinery that moved, and ghosts wandering the halls. Each of these were caught on his trusty camera. Photographs that would be used to bring justice and closure for those who have lost and have been lost.

With a slight chuckle, he thought to himself "I'm not doing that bad for a rookie!"

He had always found it funny that whenever people saw him at his day job, they'd question how someone of his young age - he was bearly an adult - could possibly be able to work amongst elites of crime scene photography? How did someone so young have the skills to take photographs of crime scenes? What people didn't think to realise was that his skill was from years of macabre practice.

What people also didn't know about him was how exactly macabre his personal training in this field was; he had honed his skills to the point at where the station would take him on for such delicate work usually reserved for veterans of the job by putting himself through the ordeal of observing the aftermath of vile scenes; a thing that comes part and parcel with hunting ghosts. Well, many people didn't know about that night job of his anyway. The aforementioned one where he hunted down and took photographs of supernatural entities. So this was to be expected.

All his day job photos were digital and processed at work.

But all the photos in his darkroom were his own night work.

The more evidence based ones would be sent in as an anonymous tip, but the more dynamic ones where the animatronics would be showing their teeth or lunging at him would be shared online under the pseudonym "LittleRedPhotographer" - a reference to the story of little red riding hood. He would show others his findings, but not too much as to not become too notorious. Only the 'clean' photographs would be shared under his pseudonym, so no corpses, only the ghosts themselves, and nothing that would make people ask too many questions. Sometimes, too much attention was a bad thing, and when taking photographs of ghosts, taking believable photographs that toe the line between safe and vile was a tough job, but Julian executed the task with elegance and precision.

He looked around at his most recent collection and begun to rearrange them on the line, figuring out which ones were evidence based, which ones were fun, and which were better left for his personal collection.

Looking at a photo that had been on the line for a while, he recalled last week's work: an investigation sparked by his own anonymous tip.

The scene of a triple homicide, the use of spring lock suits to hold the bodies, and the suits failing due to the bodily fluids. Many other photographers had had to dip out before the visions of the scene permanently burned its way into thier minds, but Julian was able to stay there all day. It wasn't unusual for someone who grew up around the dead and undead to be this desensitised to gore, but to an outsider, sometimes his guts and confidence in the face of the most grotesque scenes would get him mistook for a professional - something he didn't mind, even though he was still a little wet around the ears regarding more professional shots. His mentors would aid him in what to take photographs of and a vauge guide on what angles to use, and Julian would put his own spin on things, his iron stomach and steel will carrying him through the long days, letting him get closer to the corpses than any of the others dared to in order to take more detailed photographs. Besides, he had already been here to sneak photos from the outside, so it's not like the scene was new and shocking anymore. It was only now he was able to see the finer details of the grizzly innards of this location, so he may as well make the most of it.

His attention turned back to a photograph of interest.

That dramatic photograph of the view from outside the saferoom window that was still on the washing line despite having been dried for over a week. It's not that he didn't want to put it away; he just couldn't be bothered to find out where it should go. Was it tasteful enough for his blog, or was it destined for the shoebox.

Gently plucking the photograph off the line and sitting down on his bed, he studied the photograph.

As he assessed the shadows of the photograph, he determined that it was alright to share. Only the back of the suit was visible, and the blood had pooled out of frame, so it was tasteful enough, but it wasn't boring either. He decided he'd make the final decision on that tomorrow.

Because today, he was processing a new batch of photos. Photos took at yet another location. He had to sneak in to the long abandoned building and had gotten some amazing photographs of animatronics charging at him and stalking the halls.

He sometimes wondered what would happen if he stayed around the same animatronics for too long. Would he wind up like his dad with the animatronics trying to use him, or would these animatronics not care for who someone really was and just kill him. Besides, it was better to not get caught than wonder what would happen if you did.

[C]°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•🌹•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°

Link to my amino blogs:
aminoapps.com/p/9e5ejc
aminoapps.com/p/uxwzqfk

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