#I only have one image in my head about michael and its that he looks like larry from pkmn scarvi except brown hair and younger | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hazbininlove · 9 months ago

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Hopelessly Devoted - Chapter 2

-About 3.6k. Some slightly sexual discussions. Kind of a filler before I really get the story moving.

“What if we made a creature that could fly and walk and swim! Imagine that!” Lucifer says, his hands gesturing wildly around him as he pictures it in his head.

“Ever the ambition one, are you?” Esther replies, laughing into her hand as she sits on the bench in front of him. There’s a fond look in her eyes reserved just for him, and he knows it.

“Don’t tease me! You know it’s a good idea!”

“I do. I have no notes to give! So, what will this creature look like?”

He hums, tapping his foot a bit as he thinks. “Well if they can fly they should be feathery, like us! But like, all over!”

“And they’ll walk, so they’ll obviously need feet. But how will they swim?”

“That’s the best part! They won’t be like other birds, they’ll have wider feet! That’s webbed! And that way they can paddle through the water! And their feathers will be waterproof so that they can take flight without worry!”

Esther giggles at his enthusiasm. “And their colors?”

“Oh there’s definitely going to be a lot of variation in that. But the little babies are going to be yellow and cute and just waddle around on their little big feet,” he says, cooing at the images he’s imagining to himself.

“And what of their sizes? Will they be little? Big?”

“They’re gonna be little! Well, not too little. When they’re babies they’ll be tiny for sure, but as adults I suppose they can be bigger. Though I think it’ll still vary, maybe based on the color of their feathers,” he replies. He looks at her with narrowed eyes and a pointed finger. “The males will be bigger though.”

“Oh not this again,” Esther sighs.

“Nu-uh! Not again! Maybe they won’t be a lot bigger but still bigger! Or some features on them will be bigger!”

“I quite like the idea of a shorter male,” she says, a smirk on her face and she stands at full height and looks down slightly at him.

He blushes at her soft gaze, but pouts at her words. And suddenly an idea strikes him, and he smirks up at her. “You know what else of theirs is gonna be big?”

“Pray tell.”

He motions down his own body as his smirk widens. She looks confused for a moment, her head tilting slightly, before her nose scrunches and her hands are on his face and pushing him away from her.

“Oh gross! Luci, you fiend!”

“What can I say? If there’s anything about myself I’d like to give to my little creatures, why not let it be that?”

She groans and leans away from him.

“I kind of want to give it a weird shape,” he adds.

“Please don’t.”

“Come on! It’ll be interesting! How about we make it all coiled up?”

“Now why would you do that?”

“Because it’s kinda funny,” he says, laughing at her disgusted expression.

She continues to lean away from him, but there’s a twinkle in her eyes that tell him she’s still amused by him.

“Well in that case, I vote that the females have something similar. Except, they have false entrances to trick a male should she want to,” she adds.

“Oh that’s just terrible,” he replies. “I love it!”

“And the male has to do a dance,” she says, reaching a hand to stroke his wings. He shivers at her soft touch. “Show off some feathers, prove he deserves her.”

His wings flutter as he gives her a bright grin and tips his hat to her. “Oh I can show some feathers all right.”

——————————————————————————

Lucifer shuffles his feet as he walks behind her, kicking up dirt as he does. It’s been… well he doesn’t even remember the last time someone called him by his other name. It was definitely before his fall, and probably by Michael who often preferred that name because of its connection to the Divine.

Esther always preferred to call him Lucifer. If she called him Samael, it was usually in relation to work. He didn’t work with her now though, not for years since his fall, so the only thing he can assume is that she’s using the name to keep a distance between them in the same way she referred to him earlier as “Morningstar” and not his first name.

”Soooooo…. How’ve things been?” He asks, keeping his tone light to try and shift the mood a bit. He’s still upset about earlier, and he wants to bring it up again, but he hates seeing her sad, and he knows that she’ll only shield herself from him if he tries. Years may have passed but he still knows her. It’s the reason she hasn’t hidden her wings in all this time. She’s made them smaller than their true size, but they’re still present at her back.

”Don’t,” is all she says. He sighs at her curt tone. He wants to look away, avoid her gaze, but he also wants to stare at her and take the time to relearn all the details of her face.

She turns to face him when she decides they’re far away enough from the others. “Samael, I-“

”No,” he says, holding up a hand and looking up at her with a frown. “I won’t hear you if you use that name. You never used that name, so don’t start now.”

”Don’t make this more difficult,” she whispers to him. He can see the tears already forming in her eyes. “Please just let me do what I need to do.”

“Star, please,” he all but begs. His hand moves too quickly for her, and he holds hers gently in his. It feels as soft as he remembers, cold as it always was. “Let me explain everything to you. You know I’d never lie to you. I can’t lie to you.”

Her hand squeezes his, and he brings it up to his face, holding it against his cheek. He feels her thumb stroke his cheek. He smiles a bit at the touch and watches her close her eyes and let out a shaky sigh.

“Why must you always be so difficult, Lucifer?”

He wants to hug her. He wants his arms around her and holding her impossibly close.

“It’s part of my charm?” He settles for that, giving her a sheepish grin as she shakes her head at him. His smile falls as he presses his cheek further into his hand, holding her there. “I didn’t do anything with Lilith before the fall, or for thousands of years after. We were just friends, I promise. I… I empathized with her. I saw so much of us in her. Adam was supposed to be like me but he lacked any respect for his half. It was so different from us. We had our scuffles sure, but I always respected you, and I know you respected me too. I just- I thought she needed a friend, and there were no other humans so I tried to be that.”

“You never spoke to me of any of that. You stopped speaking to me about anything. What was I supposed to think?”

“I know!” His voice raises a bit, but he takes a deep breath and lets it out before he continues. “I know. And that was my mistake. I didn’t think, okay? I was just so caught up in everything, in talking, and I thought… I thought if I told you, you’d stop me.”

”Can you blame me?” Esther asks back. “Knowing what you do now, can you blame me for wanting to stop you? I always encouraged your dreams, Lucifer. I always supported your ideas. But you know that I also always wanted to make sure you’d stop to think before rushing in.”

”You definitely were the smarter one,” he joked. She strokes his cheek again, and he melts into her touch. “Lilith and I just remained friends. Charlie was… well depression’s a bitch and both of us were alone. I thought of you, of how I’m not allowed to step into Heaven, of how you would never be allowed down here, and we both let ourselves be stupid for a moment. And you know what they say! It just takes one time! I mean, I’m sure other people struggle but come on. I’m me!”

”Your pride will surely lead to your downfall if you continue with these jokes,” she says, her tone sharp. “Why you think I’d enjoy jokes about your intimacy with someone else is beyond me.”

He coughs, lowering her hand from his face and using his other to pull at his collar.

“Right, that was stupid. Uhhh,” he looks around, trying to figure out how to continue. “So uh, yeah. Nothing else happened. Just the once, felt like shit about it after, then woah! Charlie happens! And I don’t know, maybe we thought something else could happen, or whatever, but it just never did. I couldn’t forget you and Lilith… Well quite honestly I don’t think Lilith’s ever been romantically interested in anyone. Or at least no one that she ever told me about.”

He looks back at her with pursed lips, worried he’d further upset her. She smiles softly at him, but doesn’t say anything.

“What about you?” He asks nervously. He doesn’t actually want to know, but considering his own actions, he can’t say he’d blame her if she had moved on.

“No, never,” she says quietly. “It was especially difficult, at first. The others were worried I’d fall as well, so I was kept in Primum Mobile close to the Divine. I wasn’t allowed to leave for… let’s just say it was a long time. A few centuries ago, they decided it was enough and I could leave, but by then I saw no point. So I haven’t really been around others. Mostly the Seven, some of the other seraphs and archangels, but that’s about it.”

“So, who took my place in the Seven?”

“Raphael,” she replies. “He’s not around often. He spends most of his time on Earth and has dedicated his life to hospitals and clinics.”

“And the others?” He asks cautiously. He hates that he misses them, especially after what they, what Michael, did to him. But they’re his family just as much as the sins are and he misses them.

“They’re well! I saw Ramiel a few days ago, she’s doing well. Gabriel is all over the place, as usual. It’s hard to catch him unless you happen to be close to the Divine as well. And Michael… he’s fine.”

“You don’t seem too sure of that.”

“It’s a bit complicated with him,” she sighs. She looks away from him for a moment before turning fully towards him. This time, she brings both of her hands to his cheeks. “I’ve never forgiven him for his part in your fall. And I’m still mad at him for causing my own seclusion but he’s- he’s been there for me. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s been the one to check on me the most throughout everything and make sure I wasn’t always alone.”

“Careful now, you almost sound fond of him. I hear Stockholm Syndrome can be a bitch to deal with.”

“Lucifer Samael Morningstar, don’t start with your jokes again,” she scolds him, now pinching his cheeks. “I am not in love with Michael, or any of the others. He did terrible things, yes, but so did you and he did them under orders of the Divine and you know that.”

She lets go of his cheeks but continues to look at him, her eyes a bit sharper than before.

“Sooooo… no one after all these years?”

“Some of us didn’t give up hope,” she mumbled as her arms crossed over her chest and yeah, yeowch that hurt, but deserved.

“I’m sorry. I know that’ll never be enough, I’ll always have that guilt and I can’t fault you for being upset but… I don’t regret having Charlie,” he replies, his tone serious. Because if there’s one thing he wants to clear, Charlie isn’t to be blamed for his mistakes. He messed up, all on his own. Well, it takes two but that's besides the point. Lilith isn’t here to take her side of the blame and it’s probably for the best that she isn’t here. “She’s so amazing, Esther. She’s so cheerful and bright and she reminds me of us back then. About all the best parts of us. I know the way she came to be isn’t ideal but she’s here and she’s my daughter. I love her more than anything.”

“I know, Lucifer,” she says. Her arms are still crossed and her eyes still look sad but she’s smiling at him. “Regardless of how she came to be, she’s here, and she seems like a wonderful girl. She reminds me so much of you when we were younger. Looks so much like you too. If it wasn’t for her height, I’d have thought you’d cloned a female version of yourself.”

“Oh! Ha ha! So jokes at my expense are fine, huh?” He hip checks her for it and she stumbles a bit, not expecting the move.

“Mine are harmless compared to your more crass ones.” She hip checks him back and he laughs heartily. “We’ve gone off track. I was serious earlier, Lucifer. We didn’t know what Sera was doing.”

“Well, she is the High Seraphim. There’s a lot of power for a person.”

“She’s the High Seraphim of the first sphere, and you know that! Her duty is to her sphere, not the entirety of Heaven. For that, Michael is involved. He leads Heaven’s protection. And even as the High Seraphim, there are still others far above her! Or did you forget about Seraphiel? Johoel? For Heaven’s sake Lucifer, time away from it all couldn’t have made you forget all of that!”

“It didn’t!” He replied. His own arms crossed and he turned away from her, pacing back and forth. He never liked admitting when he was wrong. “You think the exterminations were my first thought? I wanted to redeem souls! You know I never wanted to be the one to create evil!”

“I know,” she says. She stops his movements with an arm around his shoulders, pulling his back to her chest. “But you forget yourself at times. You are Lucifer, the shining one, the leader of the choir, but you’re also Samael the destroyer. It was your job to destroy sin.”

“And it was also my job to tempt it,” he signed, leaning into her hold.

“So much so that you became the first,” she tried joking to ease the mood. “I always did say your head was too big for the rest of you. It’s a miracle you can stand up straight.”

“Oh we’re back to this? It’s time for jokes again?” His tone was bland and she laughed, pressing her cheek against his.

“I never said it’s a bad thing. I’ve always believed in you Lucifer. I know you were just doing your job, wanting to believe the best in everyone. And I hate that you’ve never been allowed to see proof of that. But we can change that now. Yes, there are some sinners that deserve damnation but not like this. Not in masses like what has been going on with the exterminations. We need a system.”

He looks up to her dark blue eyes, and feels hope swelling in his chest. “We?”

“I did mention that I’d be coming back down every so often, didn’t I?”

“Why not stay,” he asks. “Here, with me. We could be together again, like old times.”

Her arm starts slipping away from him until he grabs it. He turns around and wraps his own around her waist.

“Oh love, you have no idea how much I wish things could be like old times.” She presses her forehead against his and closes her eyes. Her hands move to grip his jacket on his shoulders. His heart soars hearing her call him that and he pulls her closer to him. “But so much time has passed, and I sent eons believing you’d moved on. And it hurt me. It still hurts, even knowing what I know now. And I don’t even know how long the Divine will allow me this happiness to be here with you.”

“But that’s the beauty of free will, isn’t it? You get to choose what you want to do. You could stay! I’ll spend even longer making it up to you, to prove to you that you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.”

“It seems I’ve forgotten that Samael is also known as the seducer,” she replies, tone sarcastic now. She leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek before pulling away.

“You haven’t seen seduction yet, my love,” he smirks to her, looking up at her with half lidded eyes and a confident smirk. She laughs a bit before leaning away slightly. Not so far that she’s out of his arms, but enough to put some distance between their faces.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself. I meant what I said earlier. Forgiveness isn’t easy, but it’s not impossible.” She smirks, poking him in the side. He startles and lets go of her, and she takes the chance to step away from him, wings extending. “So you better preen those wings and get them nice and ready for your next routine. I expect the dance of a lifetime and a beautiful show of feathers.”

Esther’s wings move and she lifts off the ground, just as a portal opens some ways above her.

“I’ll show you some feathers,” he says to her as the portal closes, a proud smile on his lips.

——————————————————————————

“Sooooo,” is the first thing she hears as the portal closes behind her. “How’d it go?”

She looks up to see Cassiel, Ramiel, and Uriel waiting for her, Michael off to the side watching all of them.

“It went well,” she replies, her cheeks a bit red as she hadn’t expected them to be waiting there for her.

“They want to know if you got back together with him,” Uriel says bluntly, getting straight to the point as always. Ramiel smacks her arm.

“Must you act so tactless!”

“Well, what do you expect me to say?! Don’t get me wrong, I love a good love story but after what he did to her? Love my brother, I do, but she shouldn’t fall back into his arms too quickly,” Uriel defends herself. Ramiel says and Cassiel shrugs.

“I can’t say I disagree,” Cassiel adds, wincing when Ramiel elbows him in the ribs. “What! She’s right! Luci shouldn’t get off easy after leaving her for thousands of years! And having a child with someone else, no less! She should make him work for it. And when she thinks he deserves forgiveness, I’ll be there to properly judge him.”

“You’re both impossible. Esther can judge for herself when she’s ready, not a moment sooner,” Ramiel says, moving closer to Esther and fixing her hair. “A wonderful woman such as yourself deserves a wonderful man at her side. I agree that you should make him work for your forgiveness, but remember that your forgiveness is yours to give. Not anyone else’s.”

“Do you really think this is wise?” Michael asks, speaking up from his spot farther from them. “He’s fallen, Esther, don’t forget that. He’s no longer the angel you once knew.”

“He’s not,” she agrees. He raises an eyebrow at her in curiosity. “He’s changed, no doubt, but so have I. He may have fallen but he’s still an angel, and I believe in him. The consequences of his actions may have been terrible but that doesn’t mean he meant for them to happen. He’s a good man, Michael. I know you know that too.”

“Good or not doesn’t change what’s done. Gabriel should’ve been the one to deliver that message to him, and all the messages moving forward,” Michael replies, stepping closer.

“The Divine chose me for this task. I will not question it, and neither should you,” Esther says, stepping closer to him in challenge.

His eyes soften at her as he moves to hold her cheek. She doesn’t pull away from him, but she also doesn’t lean towards his touch either.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt again,” he says to her. Her eyes are closed and she holds his hand against the side of her face. “He is my brother but you are also like family to me. Had Samael been smarter I’d have been able to truly call you my sister. It’s my job to protect you all. It pains me to see you hurt. It hurts me even more knowing that someone I trusted was the cause of that pain.”

“I need you to trust me now, Michael,” she pleads with him, squeezing her hand. “I know it’s too soon for anything to happen. I won’t fall back into his arms over pretty words. But I love him. I love him so endlessly I feel it with every fiber of my being and being apart from him hurts more than the pain I felt at the thought of his betrayal. Let me have this. I’m begging you.”

“And if you fall?”

“Then I fall,” she whispers, a tearing falling from her eyes. “Not to evil or to temptation, but to him. He is a part of me I cannot continue to exist without.”

“I don’t support this,” Michael replies, wiping her tears. “But should the time come, should you choose to accept him again, I will have to remind him of the consequences if he messes up again.”

“You softie,” Esther laughs. Michael smiles down at her. He hates everything about this, but he won’t question the Divine’s plans.

——————————————————————————

Just wanted to lay down some foundations for Esther and Lucifer here. This is going to be sort of slow burn but in the most teasing way possible. Esther will make him put in the work.

Also, I thought I’d drop my original idea for Esther. I changed it because 1. Most of the angels’ clothes looks very covered. Like even before his fall, Lucifer looks to be wearing a robe/gown like what Adam wears. When I first thought of her clothes, I was thinking of something that matched Lucifer’s current ringleader look, which I realized it wasn’t the time for.

Anyway I hope you enjoy! I’m already working on the next chapter and will hopefully have it up within the next few days.

Taglist: @dreamcatcher62 @art3misa635

#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar hazbin hotel #lucifer x oc #hazbin hotel x oc #hazbin hotel lucifer x oc #hazbin hotel Lucifer OC

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ravers8fantasy · 1 month ago

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What do you think some of the boxers real names might be??

(Idk if you take hc request)

Hihii ofc I love taking requests!! just no romantic stuff not yet I dont do well with that stuff💔💔

Take these with a hint of unhingdness!! I couldnt pick one name for some of the boxers, I made this list as a rough draft of a post i was gonna do like ages ago but never did so im building on what I wrote-

What I think boxers first names (real names) are:

- see Joe could be short for Joseph which is cute, but I also like calling him michael or Yves idk why😭

(me and michaeeeel, solid as they comee me and michaeeeel, its not a question noww yall I love 'me and michael' by MGMT-)

- For Von kaiser its viktor, alliteration is fun. Viktor 'von kaiser' is fun to say its like a super hero villain name also alot of people on here call him Viktor as well so

-I did however, have a dream one time that his name was wolfgang so now I call him that as well because like its wolfgang I love that name its so cool-

- idk about Disco, I think his name would be Kendrick (or Darren UGH I CANT CHOOSE). Just something chill so then his boxer name his you like BAM disco kid😼

- king hippo, he would have a name in Hippoan but the W.B.V.A gave him the name 'malosi' since no one else but hippo can speak it or write it

- Piston's name is Akeshi. Thats the only name out of everyone im really set on😭😭

- bear huggers name is cornelius idk when he looks me in the eye I think 'cornelius'.... (bless his nickname is corn-)

- or its something simple like Barry or Ross

-tigers name, for me, its ishan (ishaan?). He shares his name with alot of his family members so he has learned to wait after his name is called just in case its not him they want but like his cousin

- Don Flamenco my 'amazing' rosie posie, I started calling him Santiago as a 'place holder' first name when I first saw him since he is kinda flamboyant and Santiago kinda rolls of the tounge and sounds fiery yknow, but the name stuck

-or his name could be Fernando and the don part is from the 'do part' in Fernando

- Aran Ryan. Thats, that is literally his name

- Soda Popinski, omd I have too many names for this dude there is: Gleb, nikolai, Anton, Fedor, andrii, Maksim. Out of all of them though, he screams Gleb most to me

- bald bull, there is yusuf or Kaan. For the life of me I cannot choose which one to call him😭

- super macho man oh gosh, Chad. Thats not even a nickname or anything his literal name is Chad, I have a head canon that he changed his name because it used to be Alexander and apparently it didnt fit his 'macho' image

- sandman, his name is Pazel. I like that name and I think it suits him!!

・*:..｡o♬*ﾟ・*:..｡o♬*ﾟ・*:..｡o♬*ﾟ・*:..｡o♬*ﾟ*:..｡

Okay hope you enjoyed!! Kinda had to dig around for this in my notes all lmao. Im just so used to calling the boxers by their boxing names that when I think of their first names, I cant choose one set name to call them💔

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blues824 · 1 year ago

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How would the uppermoons react to the female Ida Shroud.

🎮I mean she is not hard to miss the flaming hair is a dead give away who she is.

🎮But how would they react to seeing the demon slayer using technology they have never seen before and only the demon slayers can open or have access to.

🎮Imagen them learning the tablet they took of a poor demon slayer has a tracking system in it and took pictures of the demons and now everybody knows how muzan looks like.

🎮And how would they react to her dating one of the hashiras and getting protection from the intire demon slayer Corp because she knows the future (because she read help rip off Michael Jackson has turned my sister in to a demon.

🎮I see her creating a device that is like a pocket sun because she can't slay demons and how would they react to this device that she has in her pocket that many demons died to

(Her getting kidnapped and getting flachbacks when the ghost Prince took her to be his wife. )

🎮She whoud honestly have a panic attack and bet to nervous to talk but also know that she is here to cure the demons what she will not do.

Muzan & Uppermoons

Muzan was angry that his ranks were thinning at an irregular pace. He sent one of his underlings out to see what was going on, and they reported that you had a small device that imitated the power of the Sun. Your devices helped the Corps, and he couldn’t have that, so he went to your estate himself. He made sure that a bunch of his Uppermoons caused a distraction (which really was just sending off some lower-ranking demons to specified locations) for the Hashira far away so that he could sneak in and capture you.

You were sleeping in your bed, and so he held a napkin of chloroform to your mouth to make sure that you were in a deep sleep, quietly kidnapped you, and took you away to the Infinity Castle. Now, he was not in the dark when it came to you. He knew about your ability to foresee the future, and he knew that you were in a courtship with one of the Hashira. Maybe, in exchange for you not being killed, they would become a demon?

When you woke up, you were tied up in a chair. You looked around until you met the gaze of a pair of glowing red eyes in the shadows. A gasp made its way from your mouth as you realized what happened: you had been abducted by Muzan Kibutsuji. Damn, people were real thirsty for you, apparently. Look at the Ghost Prince back in Twisted Wonderland.

Your head suddenly starts feeling really light as you hear the Demon King’s footsteps coming towards you. You start hyperventilating as any possibilities of how this will play out start flooding your brain. Eventually, the man standing in front of you put his hand under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. You could not tell if he was angry, but you deemed it safe to assume that he was, in fact, livid.

“I found the device that has all the demon slayers registered within the system. Very smart, spreading my image all throughout the Corps. Now there are many who know who I am. I’m surprised, actually, since you aren’t a demon slayer yourself.”

Your voice kind of died in your throat, as the fear crept up your spine and made its appearance upon your face. If only your beloved was here and rescued you, but to be fair you were kind of over the whole damsel-in-distress thing. You wanted to prove that you could take care of yourself. You remembered something your mother had read in a story, ‘I am a damsel, I am in distress, I can handle this.’

But, Muzan stepped aside.

“Well, you see those little clusters on the tablet? They are all the demon slayers, including the Hashira, and they are far away from where we are. And the thing is, they’re not fighting anything aside from a few lower-ranking demons. My Uppermoons are all right here.”

At this, he stepped aside to reveal Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Gyokko, Kaigaku, Hantengu, Nakime, Gyutaro, and Daki. That was how you knew that this would be a very long night, one where you would have to use your intellect and judgment to get yourself out and try to escape and inform the Corps where the Infinity Castle was located.

But… something held you back…

You technically weren’t supposed to be here in the first place. You weren’t supposed to be in the world of Help! Rip-off Michael Jackson turned my sister into a demon and now I’m trying to find a cure for her! No, you couldn’t tempt fate on this. The meeting with Muzan is not supposed to happen yet.

This got you thinking though…

Had you already messed everything up?

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny #kny x reader #reader insert #fem reader #female reader

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flatoutin-eaurouge · 9 months ago

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Don't leave me alone in this cruel world. Part 2/2

Pairing: Mika Häkkinen x Michael Schumacher

Part 1

Two days after Mika was administered to the intensive care unit at The Royal Melbourne Hospital, Michael stood in front of the large brick building with a painful knot in his stomach. The walls of the building loomed ominously over the parking deck that he was still standing on next to his Ferrari road car. The late afternoon sun casted shadows over his tear-stained face.

He fidgeted nervously with the envelope in his hands while he stared at it with a tormented expression. Inside the carefully sealed paper casing was a letter to Mika. A testament to their fair and friendly rivalry and everyting Michael had gained and learned from it. Michael hoped the letter was still readable as his tears had made the ink bleed onto the other side of the page.

He clenched his eyes shut and took a deep breath, feeling the chills crawl down his spine. He was nervous to face the consequences of what he had inflicted upon Mika and himself with his wish for the Finn to stay in Formula One.

His eyes were red-rimmed. He hadn't slept in 48 hours, being kept awake by images of Mika's deep red blood on his silver-white overalls. By images of his face becoming paler and paler as the blood poured from his nose and mouth. By images of his shiny blonde hair sticking to the red moisture on his cheeks.

Michael's sigh was gut wrenching when he set foot over the threshold of the intensive care ward. He remarked that the hospital looked superficially like heaven with its pristine white walls and its bright lighting and soft buzzing noises. If Mika were to die, and he had to leave the mundane world in his afterlife, heaven was the only place he belonged.

Not a single bad word had ever crossed the Finn's mouth when he spoke about Michael. He truly was that angelic no-bullshit-just-racing type of guy. A characteristic Michael had always admired about him.

As he wandered through the corridors of the hospital towards the registration desk of the ICU, his heart banged against his sternum. He was afraid he would have to beg to see Mika. He probably wasn't on the visitors list. Why would he be? If he hadn't convinced Mika to stay in Formula One, he would probably be home with his family. Michael gulped against the bile in his throat.

Upon arriving at the registration desk a stern woman looked him up and down.

"Name?"

"Michael Schumacher."

She glanced at her computer screen and frowned.

"I am sorry, sir. You're not on the list."

Michael shook his head and sighed deeply.

"I expected that, but I need to see him. I need to see how he is doing! I am a colleague, a fellow racer."

The woman quirked an eyebrow and stared at him through her stern reading glasses.

"Sir, Mr. Häkkinen is in a serious and life-threathening condition right now. Only family and associates are allowed to see him."

Michael took a very audible shuddering breath and tensed his shoulders, bracing himself against an emotional breakdown.

"Ma'am! You don't understand! My entire mental equilibrium is balancing on a thin line!" He planted both his hands firmly on top of the desk. "I was with him when he shed his blood! I staunched his fucking wounds! I told him to keep participating in this dangerous hell sport!"

The woman took in Michael's devastated face. She could see the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. She noticed the veiny and white-knuckled hands on the desk in front of her. This man was on the brim of insanity.

She sighed. "I will probably get in trouble for this, but I will allow you to visit him for a couple of minutes. I can see the circumstances really hurt you."

Michael felt like falling to his knees to thank the woman, but he wisely didn't. The woman clearly deserved some descreteness after breaking with the hospital protocols for him.

"Follow me."

Michael followed the nurse through the corridors of the ward with trembling knees. This might be the last moment he would see Mika for a long span of time, or worse, the last time he would ever see him. Michael felt himself become nauseous all of a sudden

The nurse opened the door to Mika's room and suddenly he was faced with a bright, flat kind of light before he saw him. His fallen angel.

Michael's breath shuddered as he made his way to Mika's bed. The Finn was as pale as a sheet of paper and his eyes were shut. All the blood that had covered his face and hair in the aftermath of the crash had been cleaned off by the nurses.

He laid lifelessly on the bed with all sorts of tubes and wires attached to his body to monitor his vitals. His pale hands lay limply on top of the blankets, but his chest was moving up and down. Michael knew that it were the machines doing the breathing for him, but he was alive.

Michael kneeled down at the bedside. His hand hovered hesistantly over the blankets covering Mika's body. He wanted to grab his hand and kiss his cheek, but he was afraid he would inflict him more unneccesary pain. "Poor Mika. Look at you..."

He turned around to the nurse and swallowed audibly. "Ma'am could you maybe leave us alone for a couple of minutes?"

The nurse looked around nervously. "I don't know if I can. You're not supposed to be here in the first place."

Michael stared at her with red-rimmed eyes. "I came here to let my emotions out. I want to tell him how much he means to me. Is it too much to ask for a little bit of privacy?"

The nurse sighed and - upon seeing a single tear escape the corner of Michael's eye - she nodded. She quietly shuffled to the exit of the room. "You get fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes... it was way too short, but it was still longer than the time Michael was with Mika after the crash.

He pressed his forehead against Mika's arm - which lay limply next to his side and had a IV-canula attached to it - and sobbed. Sobbed in the bedsheets. One of his hands carefully moved up and planted itself in the shiny, blonde mop of Mika's hair. Caressing the soft locks and curling them around his fingers.

"I am sorry, Mika. I am sorry I did this to you."

He cried like he had never cried before, damping the sleeve of Mika's hospital gown.

"I wish you could hear me. I wanted to tell you how much you mean to me. Please know that I only wanted you to continue in F1 because I thought I couldn't miss you. Things would never be the same again!"

He retrieved his hand and shoved it under the blankets, feeling for the bandages that probably covered Mika's gaping wound. The wound that the medics had pulled the metal rod from that had impaled Mika.

He could feel the outline of the bandages and let his fingers trace the edges of it. He felt a sudden urge to feel Mika's skin. He wanted to know if he felt warm. His fingers fumbled long enough with the gown until he could feel the strip of skin between the waistband of Mika's pajama pants and the gown.

Michael sighed. His skin felt warm, despite his pale countenance.

"Mika please get well! I can't lose you! I want you to be happy with your family! I know you've dealt with something similar! You can beat death again!"

The steadily beeping sound of the heart rate monitor was the only reply he got, together with Mika's chest moving up and down by the artificial respiration.

Michael stared at the Finn's face. His countenance was untensed and surrendered in a calm serenity. He looked at peace with the possibilty of becoming an angel.

Michael stretched out a hand and traced the contours of his face, his nose, his cheekbones and finally his colourless lips. Taking in and memorizing the immortal beauty of the Finn.

"You might become an angel when you're over a hundred years old, but now is not your time. You're a husband and a father."

A tear plopped onto Mika's cheek from above him. A tear that traced a path over his porcelain skin. He looked so fragile, almost as if his skin would crack under the lightest amount of pressure.

But Michael couldn't help himself when he leaned down to kiss the patch of skin his tear had damped. Mika's skin was soft and warm enough to confirm he was still alive. "Now is not your time," he muttered with a sob as his fingers tightened around his rival's hand. "There is still so much I want to tell you..."

Michael was interrupted by the door of the hospital room opening.

The nurse stood on the threshold. "Your time is up. I kindly ask you to leave."

"But..."

"I am sorry, but Mrs. Häkkinen is on her way to visit her husband."

Michael gulped. He was not yet ready for a confrontation with Erja. He wasn't sure how she was coping, and he wondered if she blaimed him for this dramatic turn of events.

Michael sighed and nodded. "Yes ma'am. I will leave." He quickly put the envelope with his letter back in his pocket. It was not a good moment to leave the envelope with Mika now.

With slumped shoulders he walked to the exit of Mika's room. He looked around one more time and couldn't supress a heartwrenching sob.

The nurse put an arm around his shoulders. "Know that we do our utmost best for him."

It was two days after Michael had visited Mika at the hospital that Jean called him and told him the news he had feared most. Michael sagged to the floor in a boneless heap and wrapped his arms around his shaking body. Tears cascaded uncontrollably down his cheeks. Will he ever recover from this? Will he ever be able to overcome the guilt he felt? Did he still want to race in F1? Or would it remind him too much about the fatal crash? Mika had died all alone in one of the intensive care units of the hospital. Michael couldn't live with the fact that Mika died alone. Was his death unforeseen?

Michael was inconsolable. He had holed himself up inside his motorhome with the blinds closed. He had been crying non-stop, praying to a God he remembered believing in once. No one was allowed inside his trailer. Not even Corinna who had started to worry about Michael's mental health. He had told her he didn't want to burden her with his grief. "Give me a few days."

The days that followed, Michael was suffering from his feeling of guilt. He cried himself to sleep at night and only got up from the bed to eat, shower or change clothes. He was a complete mess. How could this have happened?! If only there was a way to reverse time!

Michael's face was pale. As pale as Mika had looked in the hospital the day he visited him. He was cold to the touch and his heart was a black hole. As black as the suit and tie he was wearing for the ceremony a few days later.

When the invation to Mika's funeral came in, Michael was faced with the harsh reality of it all. The finality of it. As he stood in front of Mika's casket, he felt his knees wobble. The photograph of Mika sitting on top of the casket brought him to tears. The pictured man was smiling his handsome crooked smile. A smile that always used to fill Michael's heart with warmth. His beloved rival was an angel now.

He kneeled down and touched the casket with his fingers, caressing the oak surface to pay his respects. His tears dripped onto the soil below him. Goodbye my good friend. You were the best rival I ever had. I hope you will forgive me...

All of a sudden, Michael felt a hand on his shoulder. Not a hand that wanted to console him, but a hand that wanted him to look up. So he did.

He stared straight into the face of Erja Häkkinen. The woman was holding her son Hugo and looked absolutely devastated. Even more so than Michael himself. Her face was covered with wet mascara stains. She looked down at Michael with her lips pressed in a thin line.

"You know that you played a role in Mika's decision to continue racing," she muttered. "I wanted him to stop, but you told him to continue! Look at us now! A widow and a fatherless son!"

Michael stood up to face the heartbroken woman. He wanted to say so many things, but he could only manage to mutter a quiet: "I am so terribly sorry!"

Erja sighed and turned her back on him, leaving him alone without a word of forgiveness and, as a consequence, causing him to hurt even more.

"Erja, please!" Michael stretched out a hand at her. "Don't leave me like this."

The woman turned on her heels and stared at him.

"What do you want, Michael?" She asked as tears dribbled down her cheeks. "He listened to you, instead of his own wife! Do you have any idea what we went through in 1995?"

"Of course I do! I can imagine how bad it was."

"I had to change our bed sheets every morning because he still had blood loss from his mouth two weeks after we returned to Monaco! He was kept awake by nightmares for a long time! I was scared to lose him everytime he crashed!" Erja sighed. "I know his death is not in anyway your fault! But it's hard to process what could have been if he did quit before the start of this season."

Michael was speechless. He crouched down and covered his face with his hands. His shoulders started shaking. He felt Erja's hand on his shoulder again.

She managed to muster a rueful smile. Michael could see the symphatic expression took her a lot of effort.

"Michael we really need to talk again when this is behind us for a while. It's still too soon for the both of us."

When the funeral was over, Michael left the location in complete shock. He had been afraid he would have to throw up when they lowered Mika's casket into the grave. He wasn't even sure he would be able to drive home safely the way he felt.

All of a sudden, his phone started ringing.

Michael groaned. He didn't want to pick up his phone, afraid that it would be Ross or Jean calling him to ask if he could race this weekend. Fuck the next Grand Prix! My childhood rival just passed away! Of course I can't drive right now!

He however did pick up his phone with a curt "Yeah," because he was afraid his voice would be too shaky to speak coherent sentences.

"Is this Michael Schumacher?"

"Yes. Who are you?"

"That doesn't matter, the voice replied. "I called you because I know how much Mika Häkkinen meant to you."

Michael felt his cheeks turn red in anger. What the fuck was this guy talking about?! Why was he calling him so soon after the funeral?! "Tell me your fucking name! Don't talk about Mika with me if I don't know who you are, you sick fuck!"

A silence.

"Calm down, Michael. I only mean well." The voice paused. "I have a proposal for you..."

Michael waited, glaring at his phone.

"Would you give up your eighth WDC for Mika? Would you give up your success in the future to bring him back?"

"What?!" Michael barked. "Do you think I believe you, creep?! What eighth world championship?!"

"Would you?"

Michael sighed. He didn't trust the caller, but he would do everything to get his Mika back. "Yes, in the blink of an eye! But I will never win eight championships! And seven is fine too if I can get Mika back. But if I see this conversation appear in one of the news papers in the near future, you are going to have a big problem!"

The voice laughed. "Don't worry about that, Michael."

The caller hung up the phone and Michael felt like stung by a bee. It all went black before his eyes and he dropped to ground.

He woke up with a start, breathing in and out heavily as if he just managed to escape from drowning. Where was he?

Mika, alive and kicking, snapped his fingers in front of him. "Hey man, I asked you something."

"I am sorry. W-w-what?"

Mika frowned and quirked an eyebrow at him. "I wanted to know your opinion on me quitting Formula One next season, but clearly you weren't paying attention."

Michael blinked at the Finn sitting opposite to him in the lounge chair. He needed time to process what the hell just happened. Was he really back in the ballroom after the prize giving? Was he chatting with Mika? His Mika? He looked at the Finn in disbelief and stretched out a finger to touch his face.

"Are-are you real?"

Mika scrunched his nose in a reflex when Michael's finger pressed into his forehead. "Michael, what are you doing?"

He grabbed Michael's hand and directed the prying finger away from his face. "You're acting weird."

"Mika! It's really you!"

Michael leaped from his chair and let himself fall into the arms of the suprised Finn. He pressed his face in the crook of his neck and breathed in the cheap eau the cologne his rival was wearing.

He sighed in relief.

His body felt so weak from all the stress, grief and guilt leaving his soul so abruptly, that he was clinging to Mika in order not to slip from the man's lap.

Mika held him despite being completely perplexed, but it was more like an awkward grip than a loving embrace. He just kept his rival from slipping down his lap.

"Yes, Mika. You should quit! I know I am going to miss you terribly, but don't risk your life for this hell sport anymore! You are a deserving World Champion and you deserve time to enjoy your success with Hugo and Erja!"

Mika blinked his eyes in confusion. "Okay..." He patted Michael's back. "Are you afraid that I am too much of a challenge for you?"

Michael grinned smugly. "Of course, Mika. Tell yourself that." He hugged the Finn close, reveling in his body warmth.

"But above all, I want you to be safe!"

#makkinen #mika häkkinen #michael schumacher #mika hakkinen #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1fanfic #flatoutin-eaurouge

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 1 year ago

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“Let You Off With A Warning” - Beau Arlen x Reader

Part of the “Guardian of the Gulch” Series

Rating Teen

Beau Arlen x Reader (eventually)

Tags: Fluff and Flirting

Word Count: 1900

There's a new sheriff in town. And he just so happens to have parked his RV in your campgrounds. What's a park ranger to do with all that Texas charm strutting around on a fine pair of bow legs?

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Food as Bonding" square.

Image created in Canva (credit for photo used: ABC/Michael Moriatis)

Corey’s eyes are ready to roll right out of his eye sockets. He slumps over the counter, office phone pressed tight to his ear.

“Absolutely.” He enunciates every syllable. “Yes. I can see how that would be quite an intrusion.” Those stubby fingers snap to get your attention.

You’re finishing up your checklist after vehicle patrol. When did fireworks become an every night of the week event for days prior to the Fourth? The annoyance can become dangerous in Black Sandy State Park. Especially when bored kids and drunk adults get it in their heads to light things on fire on campgrounds during drought conditions. You’re figuring that’s what the call’s about. Things had been relatively quiet so far that night.

You had hoped they were going to stay that way. All you wanted to do was clock out in the next five minutes, get home, and catch up on “The Bachelor” episodes filling up space on your DVR.

“We’ll have someone head over and take care of it.” Corey smiles at you.

You groan back at your Park Manager. You’re the only other someone.

You head to the campsite that phoned the office first. It’s a husband and wife with a large brood. They’ve got every creature comfort under the sun - or in this case, moonlight - in their parcel paradise by Hauser Lake. The Class A motorhome makes you wonder what kind of house they left behind.

The wife is the one running her mouth at you even though the husband had called to lodge the complaint. You try to wrap your head around the noise she’s harping about and how it’s possibly bothering the four kids. All of the children are laser-focused on handheld devices. They don’t even look up when mom asks them to corroborate how annoying the sound from their neighbor is.

If you had your way, you’d block all WiFi access in every part of Black Sandy.

After the requisite pleasantries, you turn and trudge through the shadows to the lodger who’ll be getting a talking to. Though not the talk Mrs. Devonshire is expecting.

You adjust the cap on your head. The voice emerging from one solitary speaker is muffled and mono on your approach. The silver Airstream is curvy and sleek. A standout that manages to sparkle even in the dark.

Its owner sits in a lawn chair. He’s watching some old time western projected onto a white sheet tautly stretched between two poles.

His eyes have cottoned on to your movement seconds ago, you're sure of it. His day job requires him to be hyper aware of his surroundings at all times.

“To what do I owe the honor of a house call this late, Ranger? Raccoon invasion? Dump station on the fritz?” He stands to greet you. An open beer dangles from his fingertips.

“Nothing that exciting, Sheriff.” The Bachelor’s got nothing on this specimen. The handful of times you’ve crossed paths, you are never quite prepared to be in this man’s presence.

“I’m not on duty. Call me Beau, remember?” He grins to confirm the allowance of such informality.

You sigh. “Afraid I am on duty. And have to request a favor.”

He nods and tilts his head over to the Devonshires. “Let me guess? I’ve done something to upset Linda.”

You raise an eyebrow. “How’d you know?”

“I had her figured out as soon as she waltzed over to introduce herself bright and early this morning before I left for work.” His lids widen in emphasis. “Ten minutes of my life I’ll never get back. Is she about to release the kraken?”

You chuckle. “Just turn down the volume on your movie a smidge, please.” You pinch two fingers together. “We’ve never had a complaint about you before, so no worries. We’ll let you off with a verbal warning this time.” You grin.

He’s amused at that. “Mighty kind of ya. Well, let me do it right in front of you, so you can put it down in your incident report.” He strolls over to the speaker and dials down the knob. “Perpetrator immediately complied with the request.” He announces, a little on the loud side. “In case Linda’s watching.”

You stifle a laugh. “I’m guessing she doesn’t know you’re the Sheriff of Lewis and Clark County?”

He shakes his head. “How would she? I don’t think I got five words in this morning.” He lifts the lid of a green cooler with the toe of his cowboy boot, bends down and pulls out another beer bottle. He has a bounce in his step on his way back to you. “But, you know, I don’t reckon it would’ve even mattered. She still would’ve had Larry make the call.”

“How’d you know Larry called?”

He shrugs and offers you the beer. “Lucky guess.”

You wave a hand. “On duty, remember?”

A tip of his wrist has him checking his watch. “You getting paid time and a half? It’s almost nine.”

You smile at how well he catalogs information and smooth talks with all that easy Texas charm. By your second run-in with him he’d found out your work schedule and how important it was for you to stick to it. He even had you fess up, somehow, to your penchant for reality TV, especially shows of the love competition variety. You grab the beer and twist off the top. The beer tingles down your throat in a welcome swallow. “It’s all your fault I’m still here.”

“Well, then, let me make it up to you. Sit a spell.” Before you can register, he’s snapped open another lawn chair near his own. He presents it with a flourish.

“I guess I should hang around for a bit. Make sure you don’t get yourself in more trouble.” The chair settles into the dirt under your weight.

“Not the first time it’s been suggested I need a chaperone.” He sits alongside you.

You nod at the movie. “What’re you watching?”

He stares at you, disheartened. “Really?”

“I don’t do westerns.”

“Pale Rider. Clint Eastwood. It’s a classic.” His head shakes. “Kids today.”

You scoff. “Kid?”

“You can’t be more than 25,” he states with complete earnestness.

“You don’t need to butter me up, Beau. I already said you’d get off on a warning.”

“How about some bribery then, just to ensure nothing ends up on my permanent record.” He nudges a bowl on the tiny circular table in your direction.

It’s hard to make out the contents. You squint. Light from the projector brightens up the scene for a moment. “Oh, you found them.” You pull out a cherry and tug at the fruity flesh between your teeth to release the stem.

“I did. Saw ‘em at a farmer’s market in town. You were right. Flathead cherries are amazing.”

“Hm.” You concur and indulge in the sweetness. “So good.”

Beau snickers. “You two need some alone time?”

“So good,” you repeat. “First pick of the season reminds you of what you’ve been missing all year.”

He nods and grabs a couple for himself. “That’s what the guy at the stand was spoutin’.”

Beau Arlen has only been the sheriff for a few weeks. But you agree with the assessment that most have of him. He’s an affable and acceptable substitute while Walter Tubb recuperates. Arlen’s smart and ingratiates himself easily with everyone in the county. He knows those that keep things running in Helena by their first names already. And as you are someone that secures and protects a part of state land in the county under his jurisdiction– well, you get to share a beer and some cherries with him tonight.

The conversation is light and dances about with no rhyme or reason.

“What’s your favorite meal to eat back home?” He asks with great interest. With an angling of his head upward, he shoots a cherry pit out of his mouth like a mini cannonball into the shadows. You think he’s intentionally aiming in the direction of the Devonshires. “Like, the kind that needs your undivided attention?”

“Easy. Grilled salmon and roasted asparagus with mashed potatoes.”

Beau takes a swig. “Found anything comparable here?”

“Not yet. Doubtful it’ll be anything close to what I could get back home in Oregon.” You course correct and try not to be too hard on the place you’ve called home for the past two years. “But, you can fish a decent dinner out on the lake.” You thumb at the water behind the trailer. “The trout and perch are tasty.”

“I haven’t gotten around to fishing in Hauser yet.” He sighs.

“Seems like every time I turn on the local news, something major is going on in the area. Most of it ain’t good.”

“Tell me about it. I thought this would be a slow drip favor of a job for a friend. I was saying to Hoyt today that a dam holding back all the crime must’ve burst as soon as I got here.”

You make a note to give Jenny Hoyt a call. You haven’t hung out with her or Cassie in a bit. It’s time to catch up and get all the details you can about the new sheriff in town. “Well, what crime has Helena committed when it comes to your favorite meal back home?”

“Oh.” Beau’s lips flap as he releases air from his lungs. “Haven’t found a good T-bone yet. Tried grilling a couple myself but I don’t know, just not the same. What I wouldn’t do for a melt in your mouth steak with some buttered corn on the cob and a baked potato topped with sour cream and chives.” He licks his lips with a far away stare.

You grin at how fond his expression is over the memory. You kind of wish he’d stare at you like that for even a second.

Some soft pops ricochet in the night air. You both sit up at the sound.

“Fireworks.” Beau states. You nod and then wait to see if anything can be seen in the distance lighting up the sky. It quiets again after some seconds. “You better get home before you can never leave,” Beau decides. You open your mouth to protest. He only shakes his head and cuts you off. “Hey, if Corey’s got something to say about it, just tell him the sheriff can pinch hit if he needs backup.”

You smile. “Not sure if that’ll fly coming from me.”

“Then you tell him to call me if he needs confirmation.” He nods and this time the smile he gives you is fond and, dare you think it, a bit flirty. “Besides, you’ve got a bachelor waiting for you at home, doncha?”

The laugh bubbles out of you. “I doubt he’ll be any better company.” You purse your lips at the confession that gave more of your thoughts away than intended.

He stills at the compliment and takes it in for a long beat. The smile that curls up is soft and sweet. “Thank you.”

“Thank you.” You rise and leave the half drunk beer on the table.

Beau rises as well, always the gentleman.

“Have a good night.” You hurry out the words to match your steps.

You don’t dare turn to look back at the sheriff. You can’t stop grinning like a giddy school girl.

His voice, low and warm in the summer night, draws out, “You have a good night as well.” He adds, “Ranger.”

Read Part 2 Here

#jacklesversebingo23 #beau arlen x reader #fanfic #fluff #flirting #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen fanfiction #beau arlen

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ynisreal · 11 months ago

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wires (8) - michael afton x reader

author´s note: helloooo tumblr! so, i've already uploaded these two chapters to ao3, because my main fan work consumption is on the site… sorry for the delay in posting them here :P summary: Michael tells you part of the truth. You and Michael clean up the establishment. Where is Ennard?

"You know what his goal is, right?" Henry's voice echoes in Michael's memories. Of course he knows, that same goal was hinging and hammering on Michael's memories all the way to your house. "Ennard must be looking for a new body to camouflage himself with again," Henry reminds the younger man of each metallic limb entering his stomach and wearing his skin like a coat. Michael wasn't going to forget the animatronic's purpose, having experienced first-hand what the big robot intended to do.

"I know, but he won't be able to find one so quickly. The person he chooses has to be injected by Remnant through the scooper before he dies or, anyway - during, as happened to me," Michael's answer to Henry's question pops into his memory, reminding him of the seriousness of the situation they were in, "I don't think Ennard knows about this, so until he finds out, there will be other bodies just like Noah's, failed attempts to find a puppet for this piece of shit."

That's Michael's fear. It's the same fear that makes him hold on a little tighter to the hands that are intertwined on his torso. You notice the change in his grip, finally understanding that you weren't the only one afraid of going back to the establishment. All along the way, Michael has been giving you these little indications that he was also afraid of what had happened, even though he didn't want to show it to you. The sudden grip on your hands, the slightly controlled breathing and the tension in the broad shoulders of the man in front of you. When there was a red light and Michael's motorcycle stopped, the man's hands brushed against your thigh, his anxious fingers tapping out a frantic rhythm on your skin. Honestly, you feel a little guilty for not comforting him, but you know how serious Michael is about his secrets and what he decides to share, so you don't want to force an opening and end up fighting with him again. You don't have the strength to get into a fight about who yells the loudest with Michael right now, with the vivid images of Noah's organs racing through your head.

"Thank you for coming to pick me up," you thank him, trying once again to distract yourself and Michael from the fear you were both feeling on your way back to the establishment. "Sure, I promised I'd help you carry the weight on your back, and I'm going to do just that," Michael replies, in a slightly happier tone than his demeanor showed. He was trying to reassure you and show confidence, which you could appreciate in him.

You smile under the large helmet that surrounds your face, "Is this the extra helmet you use when you offer girls a ride?" you joke, trying once again to ease the tension in his shoulders. However, this seems to have the opposite effect when you feel his shoulders tense up once again, perhaps even a little more. This makes you open your mouth in shock, "Wow, here I was just joking, and little did I know that I was another one of your victims," you imitate an angry tone, wanting to hear what Michael's response would be.

"Calm down, it was only two," Michael replies quickly, turning his helmeted head slightly in your direction, keeping his eyes on the road. "Apart from you, of course," the last comment being added in an obviously teasing tone, the man clearly amused by the little jealous tantrum you were throwing. "Hm, I see, should I assume that they also worked with you? Or that you also wrote them notes?" you add, continuing to dramatize the situation, amused by the lightness in which you and Michael were chatting, which completes its task in distracting both of you from the fear hanging over both your minds.

"No, that was just you," Michael says seriously, which surprises you a little, given the joking tone the subject was taking.

It's true. You feel it almost immediately.

"I didn't used to get too involved with the people I had sex with or talked to, that only started with you," Michael adds, not really caring what his words meant or what they suggested.

True. Again.

Your cheeks immediately blush. Shit, how Michael had the ability to dominate your thoughts and make the problems surrounding your head seem like ants next to his magnitude. "Well, what's in the past doesn't matter, I'm glad you've changed. You're the kind of person that everyone would love to meet," you replied awkwardly, not knowing how to react to Michael's sudden confession, letting the first words that came into your mind take over your facial muscles and spill out of your mouth.

Michael doesn't answer. After all, that clumsy little reply of yours brought a light into Michael's mind. He had changed, after meeting you, after so many months locked in the silence and darkness of the establishment, after dying and having to drag his own corpse out of a dark alley, Michael had changed. And this change was a good one, of course he still had certain reactions or behaviors that were already automatic in his brain, but even unconsciously, he had opened up to you, he wanted that opening. Michael was willing to open all his scars for you to look inside, through all the blood and pain.

"We're here," Michael says, seeing such the familiar establishment lurking on the sidewalk. You raise your head to look through the tinted window of the helmet, feeling your stomach rise in your throat and threaten to come out of your mouth. Days passed, Noah's case was still open, analyzing suspects, the sun still rose and fell the same way as before, but your fear was still there. Michael's company made you feel safer, knowing that neither you nor he would ever walk those same corridors alone, but it was inevitable that you would create various scenarios in your head about how the two of you would end up dead in the same way as Noah.

Michael noticed your hesitation, so he squeezed your hand that was still wrapped around his torso, signaling that he would be entering with you. He would help you carry the tiring weight of fear, even if his hands were growing calluses from having carried the same fear alone for several years.

The engine noise ceases and you look around the parking lot, unaccustomed to the scenery belonging to the establishment. You remove your helmet awkwardly, wrinkling your nose as you feel some of your hair being pulled along with the material. Your eyes meet the dark glass of Michael's helmet, and you wait a few seconds, a little confused by your companion's delay, when it finally hits you.

"Do you want me to go in first?" you ask, your voice soft and your head tilting slightly in sympathy. Michael's gentle laugh makes itself known and he lifts his hand to stroke your cheek.

"No need, just wait for me at the exit to the parking lot," he replies, knowing that you would feel uncomfortable entering the establishment alone, but you still wanted to make him comfortable. Michael still had no plans to show his face to you, that hadn't changed, so he appreciated your respect for his secret.

You nod and give him a small kiss on the hand that was hidden in a glove, which you assumed was part of the bike's equipment. Your footsteps echoed through the establishment as you walked up to the large red door that marked "Exit" in black letters. Michael waited until the footsteps were far enough for him to take off his helmet, wrinkling his nose when he felt bits of skin from his face getting stuck in the material. Shit, he would have to buy a wider helmet to avoid the cracks that were forming in his face, leading to some black patches from the necrotic muscles. He picks up the backpack he had brought, reaching for his hoodie and the black surgical mask he had brought. After lifting the hood from the hoodie, the upper part of his face was hidden, along with the lower part which was covered by the mask.

After a few minutes, you hear Michael's footsteps echoing through the garage, signaling to you that he was coming to meet you. "Is this the exit?" you ask, given that he's been working in the establishment longer than you. Michael saw the red door next to you and made a positive sign with his hands, showing you the new bandages that covered his fingers and hands. The famous mask and hood you were used to seeing every week are back, and you finally realize how much you had missed Michael. Honestly, you were grateful. A lot of feelings went through your head these last few days, especially with Noah's death and the story Henry told you, which helped you realize that: life is grey. It doesn't judge, it doesn't help or facilitate nor does it hinder or slow you down. Life gives what it can, and now, you were extremely grateful for what little Michael shared with you. Whether it was a blind kiss, a faceless figure or sweet words that were muffled by the mask. Life gave it to you, and you felt grateful for what seemed so little to other people, but was immense to you. And for Michael too.

"And the wage earners always come back to collect their wages," Michael said casually, letting out a theatrical sigh as he opened and held the large, eye-catching door for you to pass through. You let out a small laugh, "True, the chocolates my sister likes are very expensive these days," the same joking tone in the man's voice is heard in your own, enjoying the light mood you were starting the shift in. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's just your sister who eats them," Michael says sarcastically, calling the elevator as he pushes the button that instantly lights up. You let out another laugh, pushing the man's arm a little too hard, just to provoke him. But honestly, with the short contact of your hand on his toned arm, you realize that even if you had used one hundred percent of your strength, Michael might not have moved at all.

The elevator finally opens its doors, making a loud noise, as apparently all the doors in this establishment do. Michael lets you in first, extending his arm between the open space of the doors to prevent them from closing. As you enter that familiar environment, the reality of the place you're returning to makes itself present in your stomach again. Memories of you running through the corridors and praying to any entity that would listen to you so that you wouldn't be the next victim return to your mind, letting the discomfort begin to grow in your body. You are not alone is what you try to repeat to yourself, as an attempt to stabilize your anxiety. And it was the reality, you weren't alone, Michael was with you, the man who always tried to help you and ease your worries, why should this time be any different? It wouldn't.

The man next to you found your sudden silence strange, imagining that the memories and traumas of that night must be tormenting you. He still didn't know the details of what you had done or what you had thought on that day, only receiving the narrative through indirect sources—via Henry and the reports the older man had brought home. His imagination filled in some of the gaps, relying on the fact that Michael had been through similar experiences a few times to make accurate assumptions. "Close your eyes," Michael says impulsively, his voice coming out hoarse, surprising even himself as if his body had taken action before he realized what he was about to do.

You hardly needed time to react, immediately complying with Michael's request and allowing your sight to be stripped away. Your swift response exuded desperation, a realization that left you a little embarrassed. It became clear how effortlessly Michael could read your body language, especially in your most vulnerable moments. Your other senses took over, enabling you to listen to Michael's movements. You heard the elastic of the mask being stretched and the friction of the material against the man's skin, indicating that he had removed the object. Almost immediately afterward, your sense of touch allowed you to feel Michael's lips meeting yours. The kiss was slow and sweet, the small cuts on the man's mouth adding a subtle tickle, especially when you reached out to grab the material of his hoodie, bringing the two of you even closer. The affirmation you sought was present in the shared kiss—Michael was here. The same Michael who had promised to help you, no matter how challenging things became.

The sound of the elevator doors opening echoes through the closed room and you feel Michael's hand cover your eyes, even though you've kept them closed. The sweet taste of the man's lips disappears, replaced by the cold breeze that envelops the bare lower part of your face. "We're here," Michael whispers, his husky voice close to your ear. You nod positively, a little nervous about your prolonged lack of sight. The hand covering your eyes finally leaves, allowing your vision to return, the dim lighting of the establishment invading your eyesight again, irritating you slightly.

You glance at Michael, who already has his mask back on. The affirmation you were repeating was now firmly in your mind, so you didn't hesitate to take the first step, making your way towards the heavy, noisy doors of the main hall. This time, the loud sound didn't startle you, showing how determined your brain is to ignore any kind of fear, focusing solely on the mantra hammering away at the back of your mind. Michael follows you, satisfied that the little bit of encouragement he provided in the kiss worked, pleased with the image in front of him: you attempting to move forward. It won't be easy, but he can try to make it easier for you.

Michael follows you, noticing how you're walking a bit too fast through the main hall, searching for the cleaning utensils to organize the chaos that the police and investigators had left behind. Michael's strong arm appears in the corner of your vision as you reach for the mop bucket.

"Doll, slow down, I'm here to help you," his voice is once again close to your ear, "I'm glad you're determined, but don't forget that I also have my role in helping you," he continues, grabbing the bucket with ease and placing it on the floor in front of you.

"Okay, sorry, I'm just afraid this wave of motivation is gonna leave too soon," you express, rubbing your hands on your uniform, a sign of your sudden hyperactivity. "So don't use it all up within seconds, just take a deep breath and calmly use up your motivation battery, so you don't go into total denial about everything that happened," Michael says calmly, raising his arm to pick up the other utensils. "Honestly, denial would be a good way to deal with all this," you admit, watching as the man in front of you, once again, gathers up all the items and then leaves you empty-handed.

Michael turns his head towards you, letting the dim light illuminate the upper part of his face. With so many emotions over the last few days, you'd forgotten: Michael's eyes were completely dark. A dark black that consumed all the light in the room and didn't reflect a single glint. You remember the drawing you made that associated this feature, which at the time you thought was imaginary on your part, with the eyes of a powerful villain. It's true, it was a look that would make any villain envy the darkness and emptiness that his gaze conveys. But you couldn't possibly think that about his gaze, knowing that Michael wasn't a villain, at least not in your eyes. You looked away, not wanting Michael to find out that his eyes were uncovered. After all, if he kept secrets, you could keep yours.

"Don't say that," the man's voice is serious, "Denial won't do any good, in fact, reality will only hit harder afterwards," Michael says. Truth, you feel it again. Damn, you wish you could tear your insides apart so you could stop feeling these intuitions. Feeling your body betraying you and agreeing with Michael.

"Yeah," you reply dryly, in denial about being able to stay in denial, basically. "I hate to be cliché, but time heals all wounds, and well, justice heals other wounds too," Michael looks back at the shelves, reaching for the cleaning cloths and gloves.

"Have you experienced this before?" your voice comes out hoarse, a little frustrated with Michael's advice, not wanting to accept the reality that you would have to cope with your emotions and fears. The man doesn't stop in his movements, continuing to throw the cloths he found into the bucket in front of you. He takes a few seconds to respond, as if he's thinking about what to say.

"Yes," Michael says, "Noah wasn't the first death in this establishment."

Well, what the fuck? Isn't this kind of information usually shared with new employees?

You don't answer, your body speaks for itself, your eyes going wide and your hands clenching your uniform. "What do you mean?" your voice comes out a little broken, your fear returning almost instantly. Michael realizes this, so he makes the decision to tell you this story in another manner. "I'm going to tell you, I just need you to close your eyes so I can comfort you," he says, his voice heavy with anxiety. Shit, it was hard having to be careful about the secrecy of his appearance and keeping you physically close at such times.

You sigh and close your eyes again. Michael brings you close, covering the top of your face once again with his hand and letting his other hand caress the fabric of your uniform that was covering your shoulder. "It's been a while since that body was found," Michael is careful with his words, not wanting to scare you or expose himself too much, "Henry, the man you met, was the one who found the body, but the killer was already identified in that case, so you don't have to-"

"Did this man come back to life, or did something happen to him after death?" you ask curiously, remembering the tale Henry had told you. You really didn't believe that the man had come back to life, so you assumed that it must be some kind of lesson or significance that the employees of this establishment shared. Well, you were partly right.

"What do you mean?", the hand on your shoulder stops abruptly, surprised by your question. "Henry told me that he knew a story about a man who had another chance in life after he died," you explain, your hand reaching for Michael's to return the caress on your shoulder that was helping you to calm down, "Well, I assumed that it was a well-known tale in the establishment, and since Henry found the body, he may have tried to pass it on to me," you conclude, a little confused by your own statement. "Forget it, I must look crazy," you add, finally finding Michael's hand as you feel the familiar bandages around your fingers.

Michael smiles beneath his mask, evidently Henry must have shared the story of his death with you. "Would you like the story to end like that?" Michael asks, resuming his caress on your shoulder, "For the corpse that Henry found to come back to life?". You think for a few seconds, not understanding Michael's question, but regardless, you decide to answer: "Yes, it would be less gruesome than ending up with Henry running around the corridors afraid of being the next one, just like me," you shrug, the sincerity in your voice making your speech seem a little too casual for the reality of your statement.

"Okay," Michael smiles, a smile so big that he's afraid the necrotic tissue on his cheek will tear deeply. "You mentioned that the killer was identified, is he under arrest?" you ask.

That's going to be impossible to explain, Michael thinks.

"No," the man replies sincerely, not wanting to delve into who, or rather what, the killer was. "That's why I'm here with you, it's safer for both of us, and believe me, I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that these same stories don't repeat themselves with you or your sister."

"My sister?" you vocalize, your hand that was stroking Michael's bandages quickly ceasing. "Michael, what does my sister have to do with this?", your voice sounds irritated, which makes Michael hesitate in his movements. Shit, he said too much.

"She has nothing to do with it, Y/n, calm down," Michael blurted out as he felt your hand grip his tightly. Not that it was actually hurting, but he could sense the desperation in your tone. "I only vocalized my concern for both of you, I know how much you love and care for her."

"Okay, but why should the murder in this establishment worry my sister?" you asked once again, the irritation you felt still not subsiding.

"There's a killer on the loose, Y/n, that's what I'm saying, we don't know where he is," Michael knows that what he's telling you is the opposite of comforting or calming you, but it's the truth. He didn't want you walking the streets carefree or letting your sister come home from school completely alone. Ennard was still on the loose, and he was testing bodies until he could find one that would hold up, which won't happen until Ennard realizes that the corpse needs Remnant.

You sigh, letting the depth of Michael's statement settle within you. He was presenting facts that were difficult to accept, the realization that your sister or other people could be in danger. You couldn't afford to let fear paralyze you, to be as openly vulnerable as you were being, you needed strength and courage in this moment, especially since your little sister depended on your protection and care.

While Michael could bring you comfort and motivation, this line of thinking brought you courage and determination. You had to control your emotions, after all, it wasn't just your life that depended on it.

It worried the man when he didn't hear any response from you, but soon after, he listened to your breathing become more controlled, as if you were trying to calm your thoughts and stabilize your heart. "I understand, thank you for clarifying that to me," you finally reply, your voice strangely calm, "I needed to hear that, thank you Michael," you add, raising your hand to caress his other hand, which was still positioned over your eyes.

Michael smiles, satisfied with the conclusion of the confusing and unexpected conversation you two shared. So he carefully lowers his mask, sealing the discussion you two had with a small kiss, just to bring you and him a sense of comfort and closeness after a sensitive conversation for both of you.

When you feel the hand being removed from your eyes, Michael is already wearing his mask and standing at the same distance he considers safe. Your gaze falls on the utensils already positioned in the bucket, apart from the mop and broom in Michael's hands. You crouch down to pick up the bucket with the cloths and cleaning products, but Michael's arm reaches for the item before you can grab it.

"Why do you still try?" Michael's voice is laced with teasing, totally different from the tone you two had been talking in a few minutes ago. You let out a hearty laugh when you saw that Michael was practically hugging the broom and mop with one arm, squeezing them tightly against his body so they wouldn't fall off, while his free arm was carrying the bucket. "If you'd rather contort yourself to carry the bucket than let me handle a broom, honestly, you're crazy," you smiled, holding out your arms, hoping that Michael would make an exception for today.

"Call me crazy all you want," he says, ignoring your offer and starts walking through the corridors in search of the mess made by the investigators. You roll your eyes, amused by Michael's extreme insistence on being a gentleman, but you still follow him down the corridors to start your day shift.

"Fuck, couldn't those jerks collect their damn tapes?", Michael's voice rings out through the corridors until you reach Ballora's gallery, where you were. Hearing him get angry about this makes you laugh as you organize some boxes that the cops had emptied during the investigation. "Damn it, just put that shit in the garbage can, did they have to leave it on the floor?", Michael finally makes his way to the door of the room you were in.

"Michael, it's our job to manage the establishment, their only job is to investigate," you explain, without taking your eyes off the task you were doing, sorting out the items that were for the decoration box that ended up on the floor due to the policemen's carelessness. "But it's also their job to have the minimum of human dignity and throw garbage in the garbage can," Michael replies, still frustrated by the mess that had established itself in the Funtime auditorium: badly cleaned blood, torn yellow tapes on the floor, empty coffee cups everywhere and, to complete the humiliation, the staff toilet near the auditorium was clogged. Not that Michael needed it, he no longer has a functioning digestive system, but you did, and the asshole cops apparently didn't think about your digestive system while they clogged up the only fucking toilet in this establishment.

"Are you going to unclog the toilet? I can finish the boxes quickly and get it done," you asked, turning your body towards the door. You saw Michael standing in the doorway, holding two transparent garbage bags, both visibly full. "No, I'll do it," Michael replied in frustration, not at you, but at the mess. As much as he found the months he spent alone in the establishment frustrating, he had created a sense of home for the place. For him, seeing this messy and untidy place that he'd practically lived in for months would burst a vein, well, if he had veins with blood pumping through them.

"You're already cleaning the auditorium, which I believe has been left in a mess of blood and other filth," you plead. Michael had immediately offered to clean the auditorium, knowing that it would be uncomfortable for you to relive your memories there, even more so with the blood barely cleaned up by the investigators who collected the body and the various tapes written "Crime Scene".

"No, I'll clean the auditorium and the bathroom, no problem," Michael put the bags down, sighing at the effort he'd been putting in all afternoon. It was strange, to spend the whole afternoon mopping the floor and walking back and forth through the corridors to carry bags of garbage, and not break a sweat. He felt hot and breathless from the hard work, but he couldn't sweat anymore. "I don't want to kiss you later and have you smell like stale coffee and bleach," Michael explained, putting one hand on his waist and the other to loosen the hoodie he was wearing, shaking the fabric of the collar so that a breeze of air would cool his dead body.

"Oh yeah, then I'll have to smell that on you later," you laugh, not at all convinced by Michael's explanation. "I don't want your sister to be traumatized by the stink she'll smell when you get home," Michael says, his voice carrying a provocative tone, which makes you smile once again.

Michael looked extremely attractive right now, even with his face covered. The fabric of the hoodie really helped with the masterpiece in front of you, making no effort to hide the man's physique, apart from the fact that, with the movement he was making with the fabric, you could see a bit of bandage around his abdomen. You had discovered yet another feature of your sexual preference with Michael, finding the bandages he wore on his hands extremely attractive, even if you didn't understand why he wore them. A good amount of time had passed since the episode in the control room, and honestly, all you wanted now was to have the opportunity to feel Michael like that again.

"Doll, I'm going to throw this shit away and finish the auditorium tomorrow, I need to sort out the fucking toilet by today," Michael announces, picking up the bags again. You nod positively, "I like it when you call me that," you say with a fond smile on your face, happy to have Michael working with you, it really managed to distract you from the fact that the two of you were cleaning up the mess of the policemen - policemen who had come to investigate a murder.

"Brings back good memories, right?" Michael's voice echoed through the corridors, the malice evident in his tone, but he missed the opportunity to see your cheeks blush and your eyes close in shyness. But your face bore a smile, good memories indeed.

You took the opportunity that Michael had taken on the task of cleaning and unclogging the toilet to check the Scooping Room. Over the last few days, you had called the company a few times, explaining the situation of the robot forgotten in the establishment. The secretary had been polite to you, but she repeated that there was no record of the animatronic you were describing, an animatronic with several exposed wires and white plates forming a face that held a hat on top. You were confused by the situation, which she tried to explain could be some robot from another establishment or an export error by the construction company. The secretary explained that they were swamped with demands from the redesign of this facility and the lawyers who were handling the lawsuit over Noah's death, so she couldn't give you a definite date of when someone would pick up the lost animatronic.

So, walking quickly through the Funtime auditorium, avoiding looking at any traces of blood or, frankly, anywhere other than the small door of the Scooping Room, you decide to check on the animatronic, even to see if the police had removed it or done anything to the robot. When you enter the dark room, the animatronic is no longer next to the door, which makes you think almost immediately that it must have been removed, but as soon as your eyes get used to the darkness of the room, you can see the animatronic standing next to the large scooper in the middle of the room.

The animatronic was positioned in a creepy way, its arms, which were tubes and tubes of wires, were next to its metallic body, with its eyes turned towards the door, where you were standing. Next to him was the large scooper, which you assumed was for rebuilding or destroying the robots. "Well, it looks like they left you right here," you vocalized in a low voice, making sure Michael didn't hear any noise coming from the auditorium. The animatronic was submerged in the darkness of the place, the open door with the low lighting of the auditorium didn't do your vision any justice, you could only see the white plates that formed the robot's face and the long tubes that escaped from the metal body. Some dark spots were on the animatronic's white face, which made you think that the policemen must have moved the robot and let some coffee drip onto the plates. You were still amazed at the lack of care the investigators had shown with the establishment.

When you hear footsteps in the corridor and Michael's voice calling your name accompanied by some complaints about the smell in the bathroom, you immediately close the door to the scooping room and practically run through the auditorium, taking care not to bump into anything and cause a loud sound that would attract Michael's attention. "Y/n, let's close up and leave, I can't stand that stink any longer, tomorrow I'll bring a gas mask to keep cleaning the bathroom," Michael says, as he walks towards Ballora's gallery, but quickly notices that you are no longer there. "Y/n?" Michael says louder, wanting to hear an answer from you before he turns this establishment upside down, creating more chaos than the policemen left behind.

"I'm here," you reply as you run down the corridors to meet Michael. "Where did you go? Finished with the boxes?" the man asks as soon as he sees you running towards him, his hood hiding the frown of concern that has formed on his eyebrows. "I went to have a look in the auditorium, but I came running when I heard your call," you explain, placing your hand on the old walls of the corridor, trying to calm your breathing. Well, it wasn't entirely a lie, but you still felt bad about lying in front of Michael, especially about a subject he clearly felt strongly about.

"Hm, you could have told me," Michael replied, crossing his arms, "It's okay, next time, just let me know before you go to the auditorium, I don't like the thought of you alone in that place," the man explained, his husky voice filling your ears with a tone of distress.

"It's okay, Michael," you responded, smiling awkwardly due to the shortness of breath you were still feeling. "Let's go, you need a shower," your attempts to calm your breathing allowed you to inhale deeply of the reek that covered the man at that moment. Honestly, you were relieved that he had offered to clean the bathroom, you wouldn't put up with that smell for a second before vomiting.

"Wow, look what a gentleman gets for cleaning the bathroom for a girl," Michael imitates a sad voice, "Get used to the smell, doll, you'll have to cling to me on the bike on the way home," the man adds, letting out a small laugh while your face contorts into a disgusted expression. "Honestly, I'd rather walk," you admit to the man in front of you, who, upon hearing your statement, lets out another laugh, this time more sincere and louder than the first.

"I'll walk with you then," Michael starts heading towards the auditorium, moving past you, while your figure is still leaning against the same wall, trying to rest your body from the effort you've exerted today. "I'm going to lock the rooms, wait for me here so we can head down together," he said, stroking your hair gently as he came across your clumsy figure, still leaning against the wall. Your gaze was on the floor, giving Michael free access to run his fingers through the strands of your hair, which were shiny with sweat and a little messy. For Michael, it was another reminder that your body was alive, your body was warm, sweating and flushed red, unlike the cold, purple fingers of the dead man.

You nod positively at him, feeling the touch of careful fingers in your hair go away, accompanied by the sound of Michael's footsteps once again echoing through the corridors. The wall was strangely comfortable for you, so as Michael had asked, you didn't move, letting your whole body lean against the wall as you waited for Michael to return and leave.

The man does his task quickly, locking all the rooms that had been opened in the investigation and checking if the ones that remained locked were properly closed. Arriving at the auditorium, Michael moves in hurried steps towards the door that was so familiar from his nightmares. Now he and Noah shared the same place of death. No matter how much his steps faltered or how much his dead heart screamed at him to get away from that door, he always checked to see if it was closed. It seemed that his soul recognized the place, as all the organs that were no longer active in his lifeless body twitched and writhed in pain. Michael unconsciously raised his hand to protect his abdomen, an unnecessary and useless action for his current situation. His stomach had already been ripped open, all his organs had already been expelled onto the floor, Michael's survival instinct had nothing left to protect.

Even though his hand was shaking, he reached out for the handle, which, to make matters worse for Michael, was open. At that moment, the fear ceased, the feeling of rage and revenge taking over Michael's entire body, already expecting to find Ennard behind that door. He couldn't risk leaving that door open, not with you here, not with your figure standing a few meters away from this room. The door swung open abruptly and violently, the dust that guarded the entrance flying everywhere given the room's lack of use.

There was no one there. Or rather, there was no animatronic. The room was dark, but Michael could draw this room with his eyes closed, he didn't need light, the memory that terrified him every night would help him navigate the room. The man wasn't stupid, he knew and had experience with the way animatronics hid, so he made a point of checking every corner or square meter of the small space. Michael felt his soul almost jump out of his body once again as he stood inside the Scooper Room, recognizing that it was here that he had lost his life, it was in this small space that Michael didn't see the light, Michael didn't hear, see or feel anything for the first time in his life. At least, he couldn't feel anything after he felt the large piece of metal puncture his stomach. He couldn't hear anything after his ear almost bled from his own screams. Ennard was the last vision he had.

Ennard wasn't here. Michael felt selfish for being relieved, at least, he didn't want to imagine how he would deal with knowing that Ennard was in the establishment at the same time as you were. However, that meant it was somewhere else, loose on the streets of this city in search of a corpse to dress, just as he had done with Michael.

The man quickly closes the door, locking it before going to meet you.

#fnaf fanfic #fnaf michael afton #fnaf movie #fnaf x reader #michael afton #michael afton fanfic #michael afton x reader #michael afton x you #scooped michael #five nights at freddys

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sugartitstownley · 10 months ago

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Hay I love your blog!!!

Could you do some relationship preferences for michael and trevor being together cute/hot or just cute?

ABC’s of Trikey

Thanks for the ask! I’m glad you like my blog!! I took some creative liberties with this and ran with it since I’ve been wanting to do the ABC prompt. So I hope you don’t mind. :) I did the fluff version [source], but I’d be open to doing the NSFW version too if someone would want that.

Warnings: Not a lot this time. Typical GTA-esque themes. There is a brief mention in the last letter (Z) about child abuse, but that’s about it. Mostly fluffy stuff.

A is for animals [Do they have pets? What type?]

No, they don’t have any pets. Neither of them feel too strongly about having them, but the topic has came up once or twice — Michael being the most reluctant.

“It’d be like having another kid,” Michael gripes. “We’d have to clean its shit and make sure it doesn’t tear the house up.”

“But maybe it could teach you a thing or two about loyalty, you snake,” Trevor shoots back. “Plus, it’d give Chop a friend.”

“Can you honesty promise I wouldn’t come home one day to a mutilated dog after it chewed the fuck out of your clothes or bit you?”

“Well, I can’t promise I won’t mutilate you one day, but I still keep you around.”

That didn’t convince Michael. So no, they don’t have pets. They’ll stick to chaperoned visits with Franklin, Lamar, and Chop.

B is for bathroom [What are their bathroom habits? Do they brush teeth at the same time? Fight about the toilet? Shower together? Have weird toiletries?]

Their bathroom habits are definitely a little bit opposing. Michael, unless he’s in one of his truly depressive episodes, is fairly clean. He often opts for the same routine every day: wake up, shower, shave (unless he’s growing it out, which sometimes he does), brush teeth, put on deodorant, spray on fancy cologne he spent way too much on, and leave.

Trevor, however, has less of a set schedule. He frequently chooses to forgo the traditional approach to “getting ready” unless Michael gets on him about it.

Once they start living together, though, Trevor does start to actively seek out a good shower quite often — if only so he can join his partner in a little morning rendezvous, which, of course, Michael is happy to indulge him in.

They don’t fight too much over bathroom etiquette, but, well, Trevor is still Trevor, so it’s inevitable sometimes.

“Oh, the fuck is this?” Michael mumbles, peering into the toilet below him. “Trevor!”

Mere seconds later, Trevor’s head is popping through the bathroom door. “Mm, morning to you too, sugar.”

“Tell me what I’m looking at here.”

“That,” Trevor follows his partner’s gaze to look inside the toilet bowl, “looks like a finger.”

“Yep, it does,” Michael nods along. “Why the fuck is it in our toilet?”

Trevor raises his hands in surrender. “Excuse me, I tried to get his arm down in one go, but people don’t flush like they used to. Ya know, I think it’s all the healthy shit people eat in LS. Makes their body more immune.”

“Jesus Christ.”

C is for children [Do they have kids? Adopted or biological? What are their names? Any random head canons you have?]

Michael obviously has Tracey and Jimmy, so that’s really enough for them. Michael knows he’s already a shit father, so there’s no need to bring any more children into his world. Plus, Trevor loves both of those kids like they’re his own anyway.

And, all things considered, they both have Franklin too. Their surrogate child. Sure, Franklin pretends to be slightly disturbed at that mental image, but both men are sure he’s still happy to have them around.

Sometimes, when he’s really trying to embarrass Franklin, Trevor will talk about him to strangers like he’s their child. Michael tries to get him to stop — for the youngest boy’s sake — but he secretly finds it both endearing and funny. So, against his better judgement, Michael joins in sometimes.

“Kids are a handful, huh?”

The woman looks up from the screaming baby in her arms to Trevor, who’s talking over her shoulder. She looks slightly uncomfortable at his proximity, like she wants to push away the cart full of baby items in front of her and make a run for it, but she nods instead.

“They sure are. Got any?”

Trevor mirrors her nod before pointing over at Franklin. “Our baby boy is right there.”

Trevor can see Franklin shrink behind Michael, trying to get out of sight, while Michael stands there smirking.

“He’s just precious,” Trevor continues, his voice cracking with a faux sob. “They grow up so fast. Right in front of your eyes.”

The woman glances at Michael, almost like she’s hoping he’ll save her, but he only puts a hand to his heart and smiles. “They never stop melting your heart, though.”

As soon as the cashier yells “next,” the woman is rushing to the counter, and the two older men are left laughing as Franklin finally moves into sight.

“Fuck you both,” he grumbles.

D is for dates [First date? Do they go out together regularly? Who usually plans?]

Their first date was definitely weird. Not in the “we shouldn’t be doing this” way. But in the “this feels like our first date and 50th simultaneously” way.

Back in North Yankton, neither of them really went on “first dates” — with each other or other people. A date feels more like a planned time to be romantic, but their relationship was anything but planned. In fact, everything often felt rushed and spontaneous, like neither knew when their life would suddenly end by imprisonment or death.

Now, as older men who feel way too past their prime and have way too much history among them to be going out on said “first dates,” the idea feels a little juvenile and silly.

Nonetheless, they do it. They do it if only for the sake of not being able to do it before. They go out on a first date — paired with nervous sweating, awkward conversations, and careful skirting over any past issues that could put a damper on the evening. It’s a simple dinner at an upscale restaurant in Vinewood, much to Trevor’s initial dismay.

“Out of all of San Andreas, this is where you pick, Mikey?”

“It’s a nice place, T.”

“Shocker that you think that, Mr. Plastic Pants,” Trevor says mockingly. “This place is full of fake celebrities and plastic surgeons. I feel like I’m about to slip and fall and accidentally get a boob job.”

“Can you just humor me for once? Please?”

And Trevor did because, truth be told, he’d go anywhere with Michael. Their first date was good all things considered, but they don’t make it a habit to go out often. It’s just not in their style — unless you count Trevor beating Michael at golf or them chasing down bikers a date, then sure.

When they do officially go out on dates, especially for important dates like anniversaries, it’s usually Michael who plans them. He’s much more of a classic date — dinner and a movie — kind of guy. He likely gets that from the movies he watches.

E is for embarrassment [Does one get embarrassed by PDA? Do they say things to rile each other up?]

Michael does, at times, get embarrassed by Trevor’s public displays. It’s not that he’s ashamed of Trevor; it’s just harder to kick that religious guilt he’s used to. It has caused a rift a few times when Michael would flinch at Trevor calling him “baby” around strangers or throwing his arms around him and kissing his neck — especially since Michael can see their unapproving reactions in his peripheral vision.

Trevor, usually, reacts angrily — no doubt believing that his partner is embarrassed by him and their relationship. But Michael continues to reassure him until the issue is dropped.

After a few years, and a bit more therapy, the judging glances no longer irk him like they used to. And, as a result, he’ll let Trevor’s fingers snake through his or let his touch linger, even with the prying eyes of Los Santos City.

When they’re in an argument, however, Trevor does take a few liberties now and then to rile him up.

“Fine, Burger Shot it is. But when we get home, I want a blowjob.”

“Oh, Christ,” Michael groans, looking around to see how many people heard Trevor’s loud mouth.

Trevor grins. “Hopefully, I’ll be saying that soon too.”

F is for fights [Do they bicker a lot? About trivial things? How do they make up after a large fight?]

They bicker a lot. About trivial things. About important things. About everything. But that’s them. It’s how it’s always been, and just because they’re in love, doesn’t mean it’s going to stop.

But, at least for Michael, he almost enjoys fighting with Trevor. Fighting with him only reminds him how much he’s devoted to the guy — how much he devastatingly loves the man.

With Amanda, they loved each other, but they weren’t in love with each other. So when they fought, it left him feeling bitter and lonely. But with Trevor, every fight is born out of caring about his relationship, about Trevor’s health, about their past, about their future. He just cares so violently — both of them do — that every fight starts and ends with him being in love. At least, for the most part.

G is for gifts [Do they give gifts often? Big things or small things?]

Yes, quite often. Michael is a lavish giver, even if he knows Trevor doesn’t really care one way or another about material possessions. If Michael can gift him an “Impotent Rage” comic because he used to have it as a child, even if it’s rare now and worth thousands, he’ll do it. He wants Trevor to have nice things, and he has no problem spending money in order to make that happen.

Trevor, on the opposite side, doesn’t give material gifts very often. Not really seeing the value for himself, he doesn’t much care to buy them for others either. Even so, that doesn’t mean he’s not a gift giver in his own way. Trevor will often show his giving side by actions: making sure the new movie Michael wanted to watch is rented when he comes home, cooking something for dinner (with no eyelids, he promises!), cleaning himself up, going to events he hates just because Michael loves them, and so on.

They have their own ways, and it works for them.

H is for home [Where do they live? When did they move in together?]

They have several different residencies. Several.

After the divorce was finalized, Amanda moved out to leave for the beachfront property that she desperately craved — and asked for — all throughout their time in LS.

Michael kept the house in Rockford Hills and decided to stay there. Despite some gentle coaxing, Trevor refused to give up his trailer in Sandy Shores, but Michael was secretly happy since it gave them an excuse to drive up there and sit by the Alamo Sea.

Trevor also ended up keeping the Vanilla Unicorn, at least for the time being. Neither man makes too many appearances there anymore, but Trevor’s back office does make for a good bed if he’s mad at Michael.

Officially, though, they live in Michael’s place in Rockford Hills. It’s close to where they need to go, Michael can commute fairly easily to Solomon’s studio, and Trevor is at a perfect distance to wreck havoc in whatever part of the state he chooses day to day. Michael, in the future, would be happy to consider moving somewhere else with his partner. But right now, he’s just happy Trevor agreed to stay with him.

“T, you listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, Mikey. What is it?”

Michael grabs the remote out of the other man’s hand and forces his eyes to leave the TV. “Trevor, ‘m serious.”

“Okay, okay,” Trevor relents. “I’m all ears, pork chop.”

“How would you feel about staying here?”

“Well, considering I’ve already drove halfway across the city, drank a shit ton, and planned to strip you naked later, I’d say I feel pretty good about staying tonight.”

Michael smirks a little. “As sweet as that is, I meant more than just tonight. Like, ya know, stay. Live here.”

“Live here,” Trevor repeats slowly, his attention clearly on Michael completely now. “With you. In Rockford Hills. Here.”

“Yes,” Michael nods, but it comes out more like a question — not sure if Trevor really wants to live here with him.

“Okay,” Trevor agrees.

“Okay?”

“Yes. Okay.

The sides of Michael’s mouth tick up into a small smile. “Okay.”

I is for illness [Do they care for each other when they’re sick?]

They’ll definitely care for each other no matter the illness, but their reactions certainly differ depending on the illness at hand.

If it’s the common cold, they’ll both gripe at each other about how “babyish” the other is being. That won’t stop them from picking up medicine, tissues, water, or anything else the other may need to feel better. Some playful banter is just to be expected.

If it’s a more “serious” sickness, a little bit lot more worry and anger is involved.

Trevor growls. “Fucking lay down. I told you smoking all those Redwoods would kill you one day.”

Michael follows his partner’s orders and leans back onto the bed, his mouth open, trying to breathe any air he can get without coughing. “I’m fine, asshole. ‘s just a bug.”

“It’s not just a bug,” Trevor huffs, laying down next to him. “Doctor said it’s bronchitis. That can be bad, Mikey.”

“I’ll be okay,” Michael mumbles, giving Trevor’s hand a squeeze to reassure him. “A lot of people get it.”

“A lot of people die from it, too. Especially if it’s chronic. More than 300 people.”

“That’s not a lot, T,” Michael reasons, shutting his eyes. “Mm, plus, doc said she doesn’t think it’s chronic.”

“Doesn’t think,” Trevor growls. “Fucking doctors. They don’t know shit until you’re dead.”

At that, Michael opens his eyes. “Calm down, T. It’s not that serious.”

“It is, Michael,” he says, spitting out his name. “I don’t want to lose your fat ass just because you can’t let go of your stupid habits, and the doctors in this city are too lazy to give a shit!”

Finally realizing the issue, Michael turns over in the bed to cuddle into Trevor’s side. “You won’t lose me, baby.”

“You don’t know that. I have before.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I’m here for the long haul now. You’re stuck with me.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

And when Michael stops smoking — for the most part — and convinces Trevor to try and get clean from the drugs — again, for the most part — he’s there with him every step of the way through the withdrawal symptoms.

The nightmares, lack of sleep, paranoia, irritability — all of it. Those months are probably the most Michael has ever cried, or seen Trevor cry, but it’s worth it in the end when they’re both a lot happier.

J is for jokes [Do they tease each other a lot? Do they have inside jokes nobody else gets?]

They definitely tease each other a lot. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell whether they’re teasing or bickering unless you really know them since most of their teasing is harsher words paired with playful undertones.

“I had an idea for our next anniversary.”

Trevor smirks. “Not sure if you’ll make it to our next anniversary, you fat fuck.”

“Nice outfit, T. I can see you’re finally embracing the ‘I liked it before it was cool’ lifestyle.”

“Fuck off, Townley.”

K is for kisses [First kiss? Do they kiss a lot?]

Their first kiss was long ago, back in North Yankton. It was after one particularly good job in ‘86. They came away with more money than they’d ever gotten together, and it took them half the time it usually does to ward off police presence and make it back to their motel.

“Fuckin’ A,” Michael shouts as soon as the motel door is closed. “We did it!”

“Fuck yeah!”

Both boys laugh, their hearts still pumping with adrenaline. Suddenly, Michael is overcome by the excitement of the success of the job or the smile on Trevor’s face, and so he pushes him against the motel door and kisses him roughly.

The kiss only realistically lasts around five seconds, but it’s enough.

“What the fuck was that?” Trevor asks once they part.

“What?”

“You kissed me.”

Michael nods and shrugs a bit, trying not to blush. “Yeah, so what?”

Trevor doesn’t say anything. In fact, the room is deadly silent for several seconds before Trevor lunges forward and captures Michael’s mouth again.

Between then and the time he meets Amanda, Michael kisses Trevor a lot. If he’s being honest, he kisses Trevor a lot after he meets Amanda too.

When they officially reconcile their relationship and decide to give being together a real shot after the Union Depository job, they — of course — kiss a lot. They have to make up for lost time after all.

L is for love [Who said ‘I love you’ first? How do they show their love?]

Although Michael kissed him first, Trevor said “I love you” first. This, too, was back in North Yankton after a night full of celebratory drinking and sex after a big job.

However, after their reconciliation in 2013, Trevor, once again, was the one to take the lead. When it comes to emotions, Trevor’s always said exactly what he was thinking. Where Michael struggles with expressing himself, Trevor does nothing but express himself.

“What?”

Trevor shakes his head lightly at Michael’s questioning. “Nothing.”

“No, come on,” Michael pushes. “You’re lookin’ at me funny.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Trevor sighs, glancing around the restaurant they’re currently sat in. “Can’t we eat?”

“You don’t want to tell me? When have you ever held your tongue? About literally anything?”

“Maybe I’m holding my tongue because I’m reluctant to say anything since last time I said it, it must have not meant shit because you married a stripper.”

“T, things with Amanda were complicated, you know that,” Michael says, grabbing his partner’s hand that’s resting on their table. “But it’s different now.”

Trevor gives a slight nod of agreement. “Yeah. It is.”

“So? What do you want to tell me?”

“I- I love you.”

Michael looks momentarily shocked, but he quickly recovers and breathes out a chuckle. “Oh.”

“You better say it back, Townley. You’re too old to have second thoughts.”

Despite Trevor’s quip, Michael grins. “I was just hoping I’d get to say it first this time. I love you too.”

M is for meals [Who cooks?]

Surprisingly, Trevor usually cooks. Or, rather, they do it together. Trevor likes the company, and Michael likes the assurance that no part of the food is human.

Trevor is a pretty good cook since he took care of his mom a lot when he was young between her copious amounts of “male friends.”

Although Michael usually is reluctant to relinquish control on a lot of things, he’s happy to sit back and watch Trevor cook, only helping when needed.

And if he gets to kiss the chef while he cooks, well, that’s just a bonus.

N is for nicknames [Do they shorten their names? Pet names?]

God, they never end — at least for Trevor. Michael does use the usual nicknames for his partner: T or Trev. After they started dating, “baby” will become a frequent contender.

For Trevor, he never stops coming up with nicknames — most of them being for his own amusement. Mikey, Mike, M, sugar, sugar tits, pork chop.

Some of them are more on-the-whim ideas: Mr. Plastic City and moneybags being quite popular.

Michael has asked Trevor to cool it down, but he doesn’t have much luck on that part.

“Get in, sugar tits.”

Michael climbs into the Bodhi, shooting Trevor a glare. “Can you stop calling me that?”

“I’m getting déjà vu. Thought we’ve had this conversation before, and I said no.”

“We have,” Michael rolls his eyes. “But I thought that once we, you know, started being together — you’d stop.”

“Aw,” Trevor smiles, linking their fingers together as he pulls out of the driveway. “No such luck, sugar tits.”

O is for outsiders [What do other people think about their relationship?]

Their relationship is a paradox to most — both surprising and not surprising in the slightest.

Amanda, who’s known them the longest outside of Lester, was initially shocked. With the way Michael talked about Trevor if she ever brought him up, it usually seemed like a one-sided friendship that was destined to end.

Though, when she looks back on it after the divorce, she’s not all that surprised after all.

“I should’ve known.”

Michael pauses before giving a half shrug to his soon-to-be ex wife. “I barely knew. It’s just always been … complicated.”

Amanda snorts. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it, Michael. Still, you just … never wanted to talk about him. Even after everything — especially not after everything.”

“I know, Mand.”

“I always thought that maybe it was just because you felt guilty, but, well,” she trails off. “You loved — love — him.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Yeah, I do.”

Lester was even easier. He knew from beginning that the boys had a long history, and even after all the years apart, he knew the barely functioning friendship between Michael and Trevor was just years of pent up sexual tension, betrayals, and love waiting to topple over.

Franklin and Lamar were equally supportive, but Lamar did ask a lot of questions that made Franklin gently kick him under the table.

“Yo, so you and crazy dude are in love?” Lamar asks. “For real? This whole time?”

Michael glances at Franklin, who’s smirking at the exchange, before he meets Lamar’s eyes again and nods. “Yeah, we are.”

Lamar chuckles. “Good luck, homie. Bet that dude is into some freaky shit in bed.”

“What he means to say is that we’re happy for you, dog,” Franklin says while nudging Lamar. “Maybe now I won’t have to hear T bitch about you every time we grab a drink.”

“Yeah, doubtful,” Michael smirks. “I’m sure he’ll find somethin’ new to complain about.”

“Yeah, like how your ass is too fat to get in the sex swing I ordered.”

All three boys whip their heads around to see Trevor stalking up and plopping into the seat next to Michael.

“That’s not- he’s kidding,” Michael fumbles.

Franklin, looking caught between amusement and horror, just nods. “Sure, whatever you say, homie.”

P is for proposal [Who proposed first? How did they do it? A lot of planning?]

Michael proposed first. He values the traditional act of marriage a little more. Not to mention, Trevor didn’t want to ruin their relationship or scare Mike off since he only just got him back. If it was up to Trevor, though, they would have just got hitched immediately.

Although Michael considers himself a bit of a romantic with his partner — a cliché, in Trevor’s words — he didn’t plan a fancy proposal paired with dinner, a moonlit walk down Vespucci Beach, and skywriting asking the big question. No, instead, he just looked at Trevor one night and asked. He asked right then and there because, for once in his life, he just let his emotions take over.

“I understand how economics work and what the working class needs! They want a six pack of beer! An eager girl in their pickup truck! And a depressing folk tune playing on the radio!”

Michael faintly hears the voice of Impotent Rage coming from the TV in front of him, but he’s barely listening as his eyes keep glancing over at Trevor, who’s sitting next to him under their blanket, munching on a bowl of popcorn and watching the superhero chant with full attention.

A soft smile tugs at his lips as he listens to Trevor belt out a laugh at whatever’s happening in the show, and suddenly, he’s speaking without even realizing.

“T.”

“Hm?”

The man’s eyes don’t move from the television, so Michael tries again. “Trevor.”

Finally, his partner’s eyes peel away from the screen and look his way. “What, Mikey? I’m missing good TV here.”

Michael watches him for several seconds, the small smile from before still present. “Marry me.”

At that, the show fades into the background completely, and Trevor’s attention is focused. “You’re gonna have to repeat that, sugar. Think I misheard you.”

“I said, ‘Marry me.’”

“Jesus,” Trevor shuts the TV off and turns to face Michael, the blanket falling off them to their feet. “You serious? You better not be fucking with me.”

“I’m not,” Michael shakes his head, taking Trevor’s hands in his. “We should do it. Get married.”

There’s a long gap of silence where Michael’s not sure if Trevor’s going to laugh at him, punch him, or have another overt reaction. But in the end, he feels his partner’s body slam into his as they topple over onto the couch. And it takes a few seconds for it to register that Trevor is hugging him.

Michael laughs. “Is this a yes?”

“Fuck yes.”

And if Trevor cried a little too that night, well, that’s their business.

Q is for quest [Have they ever been on a quest together? Has one done something completely crazy for the other?]

Honestly, their whole lives together have been nothing but a series of quests. But, outside of the normal robbery, revenge, avoid-dying quests, they’ll absolutely go on day-to-day missions for the other — especially Trevor.

Is Michael out of that one specific product he uses for his hair and no store in Los Santos seems to carry it? Trevor will find it.

Have one of the actors on set gone missing? Trevor’s already got their location.

It doesn’t matter how utterly dumb he thinks Michael is for caring about certain things, he’ll get it done. Somehow, some way.

“You’re welcome,” Trevor says, sitting down the black, sleek bottle on the kitchen counter. “Only one I could find, Mr. Suede Bucks.”

“You got the cologne? The fuck did you find this? It ain’t been at Ponsonbys forever.”

Trevor leans down and kisses Michael, smiling proudly. “I know. It wasn’t easy.”

“Yeah, I bet, it wa-” Michael stops. “Uh, Trev?”

Trevor walks over to the fridge and pulls out a beer. “Yeah?”

Michael wipes at the bottle before holding up a red-coated finger to Trevor. “Is this blood?”

Trevor pretends to inspect it before shrugging. “Not sure.”

“Oh, really? This just happened to be here?”

“Don’t ask too many questions, Mikey. Just accept the gift.”

“I didn’t want it that bad,” Michael protests. “Not at some poor bastard’s expense.”

“I got you the cologne,” Trevor says pointedly. “Just be happy, you miserable fuck.”

Rolling his eyes, Michael smiles and leans up to connect their lips again. “Well, thank you.”

R is for rainy day [What do they do when it’s raining outside?]

What better way to spend a rainy day than a movie session that your boyfriend forces you into? Right?

Michael loves to watch movies — that much is obvious. And, since Trevor loves him, he’ll indulge him on days where it’s too wet to do anything else.

Plus, a bonus of staying indoors all day is more time for … extracurricular activities.

S is for secrets [Do they keep secrets from each other?]

Trevor’s not the type to keep secrets, so anything he does, says, or thinks pretty much goes straight to Michael.

For Mike, though, he has trouble not keeping secrets. It’s not that he actively wants to lie to people, especially those he loves, but he’s done it for so long that it’s become second nature. So much so that he even expressed the worry to his new therapist.

“I don’t want to lie to anyone, ‘specially not Trevor,” Michael admits. “But it’s like I don’t know how to stop!”

“What exactly do you lie about?”

He glances around the office, shrugging. “I don’t know. The way I feel sometimes. What I want. What I don’t want. Christ, I don’t know if I’m lying or if I just don’t know the answers.”

“I think you know the answers, Michael.”

“Maybe. I just … don’t ever want to hurt Trevor again.”

Months in therapy with an actual qualified doctor — unlike Dr. Friedlander — helped Michael find new ways to cope with his knee jerk reaction to lie.

So, no, they both try not to keep anymore secrets between the two of them.

T is for travelling [Do they go on holiday together? On journeys?]

They don’t get away very often. It’s not that they don’t have the money because obviously they do. But they’re busy with their respective jobs. Michael is often working on a movie set these days, and that can take up a lot of time. And Trevor can be found running TPI, the Vanilla Unicorn, and — of course — getting up to various shenanigans.

In a last ditch effort to connect to his kids, he did invite them on a small trip, where they ended up going to the zoo alongside Trevor.

“Ew, daddy, what is that?”

Before Michael can answer Tracey’s question, he sees her reach out toward the animal. “Trace! Don’t fuckin’ touch it!”

“Hey, you better watch out, kid, or it’ll eat you,” Trevor says, putting his arm around Tracey.

“You’d save her, uncle T,” Jimmy pipes up.

Trevor smirks. “We’d just sacrifice your dad. He’d take one for the team.”

Tracey giggles, nodding. “Totes.”

Michael pulls Trevor’s arm off of Tracey before giving him a playful shove. “Yeah, fuck you. If anything, we’d sacrifice your ass. With the way you smell, it’d probably think you’re a dead animal anyway.”

“As if you’d give me up that easily,” Trevor says, brushing their hands together as they walk along the zoo path. “You love me, Michael Townley.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Besides that, they mostly stick with San Andreas. But Michael’s been thinking about planning a trip back to North Yankton. He knows Trevor misses the Midwest, and he thinks they’re grown enough now in their relationship to relive nostalgic, good memories while there instead of being thrown back into painful ones.

U is for urges [Do they pine after each other? How often to they think about each other?]

They do pine — in their own ways. For Trevor, it’s more blatant, obvious longing.

Before getting together officially, Trevor made it a point to drudge up the past or make snippy comments about how much Michael’s changed. Under all the semi-faux anger, all he wanted was for Michael to realize how much he’s missed him.

As for Michael himself, his pining came in the form of silence. He didn’t want to ever talk about Trevor, or hear about him, or think about him. He missed him too, but every thought surrounding the man was laced with guilt.

“We did it, T!” Michael cheers. “Fuckin’ A. Pulled off the Big One.”

“Sure did, Mikey,” Trevor smiles slightly as he whips the car down the LS Freeway. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I know. I figured we’d be settling into prison by now if we ever attempted it. I mean, we-”

“No,” Trevor stops him. “Never thought I’d see the day since you were dead.”

The air in the car grows thicker than it usually does with Trevor’s quips as Michael struggles with how to respond.

Eventually, Michael sighs. “Thought you said we were good.”

“We are.”

“Then why do you have to bring it up? Can’t we have one decent conversation without you always having to mention it? Jesus Christ, T.”

Trevor grinds his teeth, facing Michael with an accusatory finger as the car comes to a stop on the side of the road. “Fuck you! I’m going to bring it up until you’re so sick and tired of hearing about it that you rip your own ears off!”

“Oh, well, if I’d known that was all it’d take to shut your ass up, I would’ve ripped ‘em off months ago!”

“Good! I wish you fucking would!”

Both of them lean back into the silence as Trevor slams on the gas and buzzes past the cars around them.

After pulling into his driveway, Michael gets out and slams the door behind him, leaving Trevor in the car without another word. He slowly starts the trek up to his door, suddenly realizing that — once the door shuts — he’s going to be alone once again.

Chancing a look back, he checks to see if Trevor’s still sitting in the car, and he is — unmoving.

Michael turns around and makes his way to the window, not even having to knock before Trevor’s rolling it down.

Michael gestures vaguely. “Want to come in?”

Trevor gives a curt nod and moves to get out of the car. “You better have beer.”

After popping open a few drinks and settling onto the couch, Trevor’s voice fills the otherwise quiet room. “Look, ‘m sorry. Okay? I know we’re trying to move on. But fuck, Michael. It’s hard. You … you left me, and you didn’t even think twice.”

“Didn’t think twice? You kidding me? I thought twice. I thought three times, four times, a hundred times. But I had a family, and I didn’t know what else to do. I messed up. I know that. And I’ve had to live with that every day. Every day, I thought about you — hoped that you weren’t dead, or when I was really fuckin’ depressed, hoped that you were so I didn’t have to feel so damn guilty. So don’t tell me that I didn’t think twice, asshole.”

Seconds later, the air is knocked out of Michael as Trevor pushes his lips roughly against his. He lets out a small hiss when he feels Trevor bite down on his bottom lip before his tongue brushes against his.

“I’ve missed you,” Michael breathes out against Trevor’s lips.

“I’ve missed you too, sugar.”

V is for virtues [What’s their favourite thing about each other?]

Trevor loves that Michael is, well, Michael. Despite the long list of qualities he could ramble off that he doesn’t like about him: constant sarcasm, hypocritical, arrogant …

He’s also fond of those qualities because that’s who Michael is. He’s an asshole, and Trevor likes him that way. Secretly.

Michael, on the other hand, has a distinct quality of Trevor that he’s most fond of — loyalty. Michael himself has never been loyal. He’s cheated, lied, hurt, coerced, and backstabbed almost everyone he’s ever known. Although Trevor’s physically hurt his fair share of people, his loyalty to his friends is unshakable.

Michael almost hates that about him too. He’ll often wish Trevor gave less of a shit about him because, maybe then, their past wouldn’t cut as deep.

Still, Michael will hold tightly on to every last bit of loyalty Trevor’s willing to give him now.

W is for wedding [Who plans it? Big or small? Does it go smooth?]

It’s a pretty small event considering Michael’s already done the whole marriage thing before. Neither of them really care about a monumental party paired with dancing, catering, and people galore. They really only want to get hitched for the sake of being together forever and, as Trevor jokes, so it’s practically legally required for them to love one another.

Does it go smooth? Ha! If you asked anyone — anyone — that they know if anything ever has gone smooth when it comes to Michael and Trevor, they’d laugh.

It wasn’t a total disaster or anything, but there were certainly hiccups along the way.

“The fuck do you mean he’s missing?” Michael pulls the phone away from his ear as the lady on the other end tries to explain the whereabouts of his suit tailor. “Trevor!”

“But I assure you that we’re trying to find him, Mr. De Santa.”

Michael barely catches the end of what she’s saying as he pushes the phone back against his ear. “Look, lady. I don’t give a shit where your boss is. Do you have my suit?”

“We don’t have it here with us,” she explains. “He likely took it home, but I assure you-”

Michael hangs up the phone as Trevor finally comes strutting into the kitchen.

“What’s up, pork chop? Trouble at the studio?”

“No, trouble with the suit guy. Apparently, he’s gone missing.”

“Huh.”

Michael narrows his eyes. “That was a short answer. And ya don’t seem that shocked.”

“It’s Los Santos,” Trevor shrugs. “People go missing all the time. He probably found the one hot broad in this city that likes 50-year-old men with braces and hit the road with her.”

“How did you know he had braces? I’ve never hold you that.”

“What the fuck is this, Mikey? An interrogation?”

Michael steps around the kitchen table until he’s face to face with his partner, giving him a sharp, piercing look. “Trevor.”

“Fine! I met the guy for a bit,” Trevor relents. “Went to talk to him about fixing up my outfit as well, but we didn’t see eye to eye.”

“Oh, God. What does that mean?”

Trevor’s eyes shine in light amusement. “I think we’re going to have to look for someone else.”

X is for xenia [What’s it like to be their guest?]

Well, they don’t really have a lot of people over. The only people who ever visit them are Franklin and Lamar, sometimes Tracey and Jimmy, and on the rarest occasions, Lester. But that’s usually only if he needs something.

When they’re in Sandy Shores, they’ll have Ron over, and occasionally, they’ll bring Wade when Trevor wants to get him out of the strip club.

Being their guest is like going to a haunted house. It can be fun, but you have a chance of getting traumatized in some way.

“Hey, do y’all two have any-” Franklin stops, throwing his hands over his eyes as he jumps back into the hallway. “What the fuck?”

Trevor’s laughter fills in the room as Michael blushes, fumbling for the zipper on his pants before pulling Trevor up from his knees.

“Fuck,” Michael starts. “Sorry. We ain’t doing anything. I promise.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, dog,” Franklin shudders, finally peaking through his fingers. “Look, I just came to ask if y’all had any beer. But I can see you’re busy.”

“We weren’t …” Michael trails off, knowing there’s no point in denying it. “I’ll show you where it is.”

The three boys walk downstairs, Trevor still snickering to himself as Michael nudges him every so often to try and get him to quit.

“Maybe next time, wait for your guests to leave before you start messing around up there,” Franklin chuckles.

The boys’ heads glance over when Lamar pipes up beside them, apparently catching the end of the conversation. “Yo, you and crazy dude was fuckin’ up there?”

“Kill me,” Michael mumbles while Trevor cackles beside him.

Yeah, they don’t have guests over very often anymore.

Y is for yearly [Any traditions? Anniversaries?]

They’ve picked up some new traditions and brought back some old. Back in North Yankton, before Michael ever met Amanda, there were several years that he and Trevor would bake holiday cookies for Christmas. Were they good at it? No. But that never stopped them. Neither of them grew up in particularly warm households, so it was up to them to create some kind of holiday cheer.

Plus, when Tracey was born, she loved to help out. Oftentimes, you could find her in Trevor’s arms as they used cookie cutters to make the dough into little trees and reindeer.

Deciding to carry that tradition into their relationship and marriage, every Christmas they bake cookies, and every year, they taste a little like shit. But they both love it.

“Merry Christmas, daddy,” Tracey says, hugging Michael and Trevor. “Merry Christmas, uncle T.”

“Merry Christmas, kid,” Trevor pats her back before going to grab a few of the supplies needed for the recipe they’re making.

Michael hands her a bowl for the dough. “Merry Christmas, Trace. Glad you could come over. How’s college going?”

“Good! Classes, like, totally rock!”

He smiles, nodding approvingly. “Good.”

“What about your brother? He too good to hang out with us tonight?” Trevor jokes, setting the butter, milk, and eggs down on to the table.

Tracey giggles. “I think he’s working.”

“I’m still not used to hearing that,” Michael laughs. “What about your mom?”

“She’s good too. She’s, and I quote, ‘finally relaxed now that you’re someone else’s problem.’”

Trevor snorts. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“You wouldn’t want it any other way,” Michael shoves him lightly.

“Maybe not.”

Michael, Trevor, and Tracey work in unison for the next 20 minutes until they finally have some semi-decent cookies that are ready to be baked. Sticking them in the oven and setting a timer, they all get cleaned up and move to the living room.

Michael flops down onto the couch, and Trevor falls next to him, putting his arm around his shoulders. Tracey makes her way to the other side of the couch so she can stretch her legs as they all wait for the cookies to be done.

“We should make this a tradition again! Now that you and daddy are together, we could do this, like, every year. Remember when we used to do this when I was young, uncle T?”

“Sure do, kiddo,” Trevor grins. “With Jimmy too.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess he could even come next year. What do you think?”

Michael sees that Tracey and Trevor are looking at him for an answer, so he nods. “Yeah, we could probably make that happen.”

The three of them talk about the future, Tracey mostly supplying the conversation with her babbling while Michael and Trevor happily sit back, leaning into each other as they listen.

When it comes to anniversaries, they also celebrate those every year. They’re not as uptight as some couples about them, but they tend to mean a lot to Trevor, and it’s a concrete way for Michael to show that he’s putting work into their relationship and cares about it enough to do so. So, they celebrate them every year.

Z is for Zzz [Sleep habits? Who’s the big spoon? What do they wear in bed? Are they coddlers?]

Michael’s never really gotten a perfect night’s rest — not since he was a baby presumably. He’s had okay nights and even, what he’d consider, good nights. But never perfect. Never the full eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Nightmares often plague his nighttime life. When he was a teen, it used to be flashes of his father hitting him — beating him black and blue until he was coughing blood days after. As a young adult, he dreamt of robberies gone wrong, getting shot, going to prison, and so on. As an older man, his dreams are a toss-up between his past worries and his future ones. Hurting Trevor, dying, or, most often, both.

Trevor, in the past, didn’t sleep a lot either. Some nightmares, sure, but mostly from the drugs coursing through his veins at any given time. Since Michael and him got together and he started working on being clean, he’s gotten a bit more sleep than the usual.

The same can be said for Michael, though. Sleeping next to Trevor has helped tremendously, especially for his Trevor-themed nightmares. Knowing he’ll wake up next to the man is comforting.

Because of their shaky sleep schedule, they both take turns being the big spoon/little spoon depending on who needs what.

Trevor gently nudges Michael, who’s restlessly tossing around. “Mikey … Mikey.”

Michael’s eyes fly open, and Trevor grabs his arms to stop them from reaching for the gun by the bed.

The dark room stays silent for a minute as Michael’s breathing levels out before he sighs. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

Trevor gives a noncommittal hum. “You haven’t had a dream like that in awhile.”

“Yeah, we’ve been sleepin’ good recently, huh?”

Trevor puts his arms around Michael, feeling his bare chest rise and fall steadily. “Yeah, sure have. What were you dreamin’ about?”

“Just … North Yankton,” Michael admits, pulling Trevor close. “Being back there — what could have happened, I guess.”

“There’s no use thinking about the past since we can’t change it. Ain’t that what your new shrink said?”

“She said I should let it go,” he corrects. “But I can’t.”

Trevor frowns, tracing circles on Michael’s chest. “Why not? Still sad you missed your opportunity to put me down?

“Knock it off,” Michael grabs his hand, scratching where Trevor was lightly brushing before. “And that ain’t funny, T.”

Trevor rolls his eyes but decides not to push it. “Look, sugar, we all have things we regret. But we’re here now, and that’s what matters, right? We’ve got your spoiled kids, Franklin, Lamar, hell, even Lester. We’re good.”

“I know,” Michael says quietly, agreeing. “I really am sorry, though. For a lot shit.”

“Yeah, me too. For a lot of shit.”

Michael leans down and kisses Trevor’s head before pulling the blankets up over them again and going back to sleep.

When they can’t sleep, it’s usually filled with just that — banter, soft comforts, and an insult or two so the other can feel right at home. It’s not always picture perfect, but they wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

#michael de santa #michael townley #trikey #trevor philips #ask response

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accirax · 5 months ago

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Disventure Camp All Stars Power Rankings (Round 11)

Heading into the latter half of the season, things are sure to get interesting! Let's hope we can reach a finale everyone can be happy with, hm?

In case you haven't seen my previous power rankings ( 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 ), the Power Ranking Format is essentially a way of ranking how well each player is doing in the game. So, in essence, this is a long form way of predicting who I think will be eliminated from the competition in the next episode. There will be spoilers for last week's episode (obviously) and its power ranking, so make sure to read that first if you don't want to be spoiled on how I ranked our last boot. If you want more clarification on the rules, that first post will help you out as well. Furthermore, I'm going to be spoiling the preview for next episode, so if you want to go in TOTALLY blind, save this for later. Let's go!

Recap - Connor's Return!

Current Point Total: 41 acquired / 63 total (same as last time)

Mannnn, how come the one time I'm finally right, I don't get to score any points for it?! I should get to add a bonus +63, just for kicks. That wouldn't mess up my math at all.

Anyways, even though he's not a personal favorite of mine, I already detailed why I thought Connor would be the best character for the writers to bring back in the last power ranking. Plus, we get to hear Michael Kim's voice acting again. He's quite talented, in my opinion, and I felt bad that he was voicing two characters this season only for one of them to be eliminated really early (Connor) and the other to largely disappear for some reason (Oliver).

My current guess for Connor's character is that he'll be a finalist, but that he'll lose. I hope he doesn't win, just because, in-universe, his character needs the money probably the least. Still, after he managed to come back, I feel like it would make sense for him to be in the finale, and he's had a lot of talk about making it to the end now. He'd probably pair with Alec, and not Riya? But, that's assuming both that Alec isn't also in the final 3, and that the two of them proceed from this point to a conclusion of friendship as opposed to rivalry/detestation. Dubious.

Trailer Analysis

The trailer shows a lot of scenes advertising some sort of seemingly important conversation between Gabby and Grett on this beach. I don't know why Gabby is in her swimsuit and Grett isn't, but I doubt it's too important. If the scenes are shown in order, it seems like the pair are hanging out, Grett explains something, and Gabby grows fed up and leaves. Although, crack theory: that last image could be of or to the alternate version of Gabby.

Always nice to see some new relationships forming! Connor seemed to enjoy Advising The Youths in S2, and, boy, do Tom and Jake need some advising. And if he gets to solidify the bonds within the heroes' alliance along the way, all the better. Also, it looks like Jake is on the same beach that Grett and Gabby visit? Angsty beach, I guess.

It seems like this challenge may be some sort of capture the flag at night kind of thing? From what I've surmised, it might be that there's only one flag, and whoever manages to be holding on to it at the challenge's end point will gain immunity.

Yul and Grett are fighting again. Notably, 1) based on the light in the sky, this is probably at the beginning of the challenge, and 2) Grett appears to be sticking up for herself a bit more.

Yeah, here people are, fighting over that individual flag. It seems like Riya and Connor will be allowed to participate in this challenge, despite already having immunity locked in. If one of them wins, would they simply steal that potential immunity from someone else (AKA, only Riya and Connor are immune), or could they choose to give immunity to someone else (AKA, Riya, Connor, and Player C are immune)?

Perhaps Aiden is giving Jake a chance, as per Lake's advice. I just now realized that Jake and Lake are only one letter apart. Maybe it's Aiden's destiny to ultimately befriend people named -ake after the game initially pits them against each other.

Derek is sad about... something.

Ally will wind up with the flag at some point, but Gabby will steal it from her.

Also, there are wolves??? Wait a minute... are Jake and Aiden K-I-S-S-I-N-G?!?!?!? (/j)

Grett will trip Tom when he has the flag. Based on the lighting, this may be very close to the end of the challenge.

This scene might be pretty close to the end of the challenge too, though. Grett and Yul fight off Jake, with seemingly no flag in sight.

"That idiot does realize he's screwed the moment his immunity wears off, right?" "I can't wait."

Although this conversation likely takes place after the challenge is over, I really expect this dialogue to be about Connor (I doubt that ONC would want to spoil that the person who wins the challenge uses he/him in the trailer.) This doesn't really tell us much, other than that Connor doesn't do anything in this episode to rekindle any goodwill with the villains. Shocking. Also, I can't help but feel like this line is steeped in dramatic irony.

Power Ranking

#1: Connor

and

#2: Riya

Not much point in distinguishing between the two because we know for a fact that both of them will have immunity heading into this episode. I don't even know if they can give it up, and, besides, Riya is too selfish and Connor is too in danger for either of them to likely consider doing so. Barring a medical evacuation, there should be no chance that either of these two will be eliminated in the upcoming episode.

#3: Gabby

Why Gabby? Like, seriously, why Gabby? I suppose she could be considered too much of a loose cannon for the villains, but we've now reverted to a 5-5 split. If the villains somehow don't want to work with her, I'm sure the heroes would snatch her up as a free vote. Or, even if she voted completely according to her own whims, it would still be a 5-4-1 in which the heroes probably would not target Gabby.

I really just can't think of anything. It's weird. Like, vibes-wise, I'm not narratively opposed to Gabby going home, I just see no reason why it would happen. Even if she and Grett get into a fight, or if she starts talking to herself more again, is anybody really going to vote her off? Is she that annoying? Is she that threatening? I don't think so.

Gabby also still has some narrative threads that need payoff. First, the reappearance of her alternate self, which the end of last episode put forth as some big revelation. There's also the advice she received from Ellie, which was to backstab the villains before they could get her first. Either or both of things could probably be resolved within one episode, although, the latter would be weird if it ended in her elimination. If she didn't listen to Ellie, I guess? That's counter to, like, Gabby's entire character. She'll be fine for now.

#4: Jake

Speaking of narrative threads, if the writers decided to axe Jake here, it would be so bad. Or at least, it probably would be. You can't just have Ashley tell him to look forward to the future and then have his future be immediate elimination...!!!

But, seriously, it would be a weird turn of events. I guess maybe the plotline could be that Aiden listens to Lake's advice and decides to give Jake a chance, which Jake takes, because character arc. That decision to be selfless and care about others could lead to his elimination... somehow? And also we wrap up whatever the TomJake conclusion is meant to be during this episode? Yeah, seems unlikely.

That's also factoring in that I still see no reason why the villains would want Jake in particular out this time. In the last actual vote we had, the villains were able to seize power because of Jake and Aiden's quarreling. Until the two of them can provenly work together, they're an asset to the villains team. Jake has also competed in five individual elimination challenges without winning a single one. (The closest he got was the underground cave one where Ellie kicked his ass in the end, lmao.) He's truly not much of a threat.

Until he wins the season, that is. I'm sure that part of my want to rank Jake so highly is that I'm currently predicting that he'll be the winner of this season. We've just spent so much time on his various plotlines; it feels like this has to be the season of Jake. But, what do I know? I thought Fiore could win this season, and that was super wrong. We're a long ways out from the finale, but, still, I don't think Jake will go down here.

#5: Grett

As has been Grett's M.O. for a while now, I just don't understand why she would be the target of anyone's fire. Sure, Riya has immunity, which limits one of your villainous options. But, if you're looking for the most threatening villain, it would be Alec, and if you're looking for the villain you want to hang out with the least, it's Yul. Even Gabby is probably more prominent as the most likely double-crosser when it would come to a hit from within the villains alliance itself. It's possible that, if another villain (such as Alec) gains additional immunity, then Grett could become the most strategic or whatever by default. However, at that point, the level of coincidence would be so high that it would feel like the writers were trying to get rid of her, which I don't think they are.

It does seem like Grett is going to get a lot of focus this episode, though, which is theoretically cause for concern. I'd say that the most likely situation in which she goes home this episode is that she gets into a big fight with Gabby, resulting in Gabby agreeing to become a 6th for the heroes on the condition that they vote for Grett. However, this would require Gabby to side with Aiden and Tom, who she has personal beef with, over Grett, who she has a long history of forgiving. I also think that the scene of Grett tripping Tom could indicate that Grett will be the one to wind up with immunity (although the scene where she and Yul fight Jake might argue the opposite), so there's a chance people straight up won't be able to vote out Grett anyway.

While not impossible, I think it would be quite difficult to cut Grett off here while satisfyingly concluding her arc of standing up to Yul. Therefore, immunity or not, I don't think the writers will. And I don't think the players have much of a reason to can her, either.

#6: Ally

I guess it's fitting that Ally winds up in "technically the bad half" because, while I can't think of many particularly good reasons for her elimination, I wouldn't be super surprised if it was her time to go this episode, either. Mostly because of the whole love triangle drama stuff. You hate to see it.

I think it's really the current lack of character dynamics for Ally that makes me worry for her. Like, sure, she's got her rivalry with Jake going on, but... what else? I guess she kind of has an extant relationship with Connor from S2, but... only kind of. She was also in an alliance with Yul in S2, but fat chance that's going anywhere. She voted with Aiden and Tom last vote, and she's shown talking to Tom in the preview! That's... something? Ally isn't even Jake's #1 hater. Girl is suffering.

Furthermore, Ally could theoretically be voted out along the same lines as Ashley for being the least problematic hero left (other than arguably Connor, who has immunity). None of the villains seem to have a particular vendetta against Ally, but that doesn't make her immune.

The main thing is really just that none of those reasons are particularly compelling. Ally could be eliminated, I guess. I don't know. Nothing feels very right about it, though, which makes me think it isn't her time. We'll see. I'm sure Ally knows what a meat shield is, even if she never wanted or expected to be considered as one. Such is the narrative.

#7: Aiden

Aiden does have Riya, Yul, and theoretically Gabby gunning for him, which certainly puts him in danger for elimination. He clearly could be the villains' target... unless?

Hear me out. I think Aiden could be the one to win immunity this episode. What do we see in the trailer? Well, once the sun has fully set, we see Tom holding the flag, until Grett trips him and (presumably) steals it. However, possibly after that, we see Grett and Yul on the ground, Jake having tackled them, with no flag in sight. Where did the flag go? Well, earlier(?) in the episode, we saw Jake and Aiden hiding together in that tree, as well as generally strategizing together. I think it's possible that Aiden will decide to give Jake a chance, at which point Jake will offer himself up as a distraction/sacrifice so that Aiden can steal the flag and win immunity. That kind of plot would work well for where both Jake and Aiden's character arcs are right now, in my opinion.

Of course, it could also be Tom who wins the immunity. If the tackling scene happens fairly immediately after Tom falls, I don't know where the hell he went, and Jake definitely could have offered himself up to help Tom, too. You know what? Let's just...

#8: Tom

I really struggled with whether to put Aiden or Tom first. Even now, I feel like I put them in the wrong order. Hopefully my indecision foreshadows that it won't matter, because neither will happen. Do I finally have my finger on the pulse...?

Personally, I feel like there's been way too much setup for the heroes finally reuniting this episode for anyone other than a villain to go home. We've got Connor vowing to eliminate a villain. We've got Ellie urging Gabby to turn on the villains. We've got Lake advising Aiden and Miriam advising Tom to give Jake a second shot. We've got Tess giving Ally her full support to crush it in the future. We have Ashley's entire elimination motivating Jake! It's possible that the writers could try to make hero drama stretch out a little longer, but I think it'd be better for the show if they didn't. Everything is pointing towards a shakeup to the status quo, and (not that I think the writers should abruptly change their plans for the season to account for what fans want, but) I think that's what the fans desperately crave.

Along those lines, though, if we're going to punt for one more week and allow a hero to go home, I don't think Tom is a terrible choice. His elimination would shake up the very TomJake + Aiden status quo, as opposed to Ally, whose elimination would truly feel like killing time. Tom has erred enough this season with the whole "lying about having a boyfriend" thing that I think his elimination as a casualty of the "twink wars," as Kristal put it, wouldn't feel too unfair. If the writers want to focus on Aiden and Jake building a friendship in the future, I could see them wanting to get rid of Tom to give those two space to breathe. The TomJake angst likely wouldn't be resolved in this episode, but if, say, Jake is in the finale, I could see their plotline being resolved by Tom being Jake's assistant in the end.

The villains do also have reason to target Tom. Although he's engaged in his fair share of catty behavior, he was the one alongside Ashley to propose that Aiden and Jake put aside their differences to work together. More importantly, Tom is almost certainly the physically strongest hero left, so if the villains want to keep the immunities to themselves, it could be good strategy to eliminate Tom before he can go on a challenge run.

Then again, Tom has actually also won 0/4 of the individual challenges he's participated in so far, so. Maybe not as threatening as he seems on paper.

#9: Alec

If it ain't broke, don't fix it: Ashley was the most heroic hero, so if the villains had the choice of who to eliminate, they should take her out. Alec is the most villainous villain (or at least, the ringleader of the crew), so if the heroes had the choice of who to eliminate, they should take him out. Such simple logic turned out to be viable last time!

Yeah, Alec is mostly down here because I think a villain will go home, and I think he's the most sensible villain for the heroes to eliminate if they can. We've also gotten some closure for him and Fiore, now, so to the extent that was keeping him in the game, it won't any longer.

However (unlike Ally), Alec still has other relationships that I think it would be a loss if we didn't see play out more. For instance, what will it be like now that Connor is back in the game? Alec reacted with a lot more hostility to Connor during the last challenge than I had initially expected. But, I'm willing to believe that he was suffering evil brain rot from hanging out with Riya for the last few days and Fiore for the last few minutes. Whether there's a friendship to be salvaged or not, I'd prefer more than one episode to explore what's going on there.

There's also Alec's relationship with Riya, although, honestly, I could see that one turning out interestingly if Alec did go home this week. Thus far, I don't think their friendship has really been set up in a way that foreshadows either of them turning on each other. If I'm right, that would mean that, at some point, one of them will have to go home with the other not involved and still in the game. If Alec goes home as a result of Riya having immunity, I could see it further increasing the animosity between Riya and Connor, which could be cool.

I've made it pretty apparent... everywhere that Alec is one of my favorites, so obviously I'm rooting for him to survive this episode and make it even farther into the game. But, I totally understand if now is his time, and think his elimination could be used to set up cool things for the future. That being said, I do think there's one person who might be a little more likely than Alec to get booted in the upcoming elimination.

#10: Yul

I might have the exact timing slightly off, but personally, I've started to notice that big events in DCAS start being set up about three episodes before they actually happen. Ellie had about three episodes of behaving poorly with Gabby disapproving before it finally resulted in her going home. If Jake finally starts turning things around this episode, I think he vowed to do so about three episodes prior. Hunter was the fourth boot (Episode 5) after him being a subpar boyfriend was set up in Episode 1 and him being mean to Fiore was established in Episode 2. I think Tom coming clean over lying about having a boyfriend was about three episodes after he originally said it. You see what I mean?

Along those lines, although Yul has been a jerk throughout the entire season, I think that Grett started voicing serious concerns about Yul about three episodes ago. And thus, the clock started ticking. It's been long enough now that I think that timer is finally about to ding.

As I mentioned in both Grett and Gabby's sections, it seems like their chat will be important to what goes down in the episode. Personally, I think that either Grett and Gabby will both vote with the heroes to take down specifically Yul, or that Gabby will work with the heroes on her own to eliminate Yul for Grett, if Grett is too hesitant about it. That would be one explanation for Gabby walking out on Grett in the end-- Grett expresses her concerns with Yul, but still can't manage to turn against him, so Gabby angrily leaves, determined to do what's best for Grett even if Grett can't twist the knife herself.

As for Yul's relationships, well... he has Grett and Riya, but obviously neither of those are going to end happily in the long run. His role with Emily seems to have already elapsed. He doesn't have any really sincere or deep connections with anyone, which makes him a lot more expendable when it comes to ongoing plotlines. The most sincere connection he has is probably with James, who he got to talk to last episode. I honestly wonder if that conversation might have been the wrap up to Yul. We learned a lot about him in it: no jokes, no tricks, he really is just a bad guy who hates other people. The fact that he has no depth is his depth. With that answer given, I don't know if we need Yul around anymore.

Also, the fandom is getting sick of him, and for understandable reasons. It's still way better here than it was in S2, in my opinion, because Yul is not in a position of power like he was in S2, but it's true that Yul does bring a sort of foul, negative energy to any scene that he's in. I, at least, usually find it funny, don't get me wrong, but it still sucks to see your other faves get verbally abused, especially in the scenes that aren't played for laughs.

(Also, the Spanish voice actor choosing to improvise a slur is obviously not okay. Naturally, that wasn't accounted for when initially planning the season, so it shouldn't factor into the elimination order, but it's still true. I think we should allow everyone involved some lenience, because they're really young to have so much pressure, responsibility, and hostility thrown in their faces. However, it's also not like being a young indie artist on the internet gives you a full pardon to act cruelly towards minorities. In my opinion, either side stoking the flames with hotheaded and/or rash behavior right now seems like it will go down poorly for everyone involved. We should be aiming for a sincere apology and a tentative, yet calm reception for now.)

Well, those are my thoughts this week! After perfectly predicting Connor, I'm hoping this post-merge, post-return time period will be the beginning of a hot streak. But, we'll have to see what happens in the upcoming episode. For all I know, Yul could have immunity or something. That's the danger of the merge, I guess. Bye for now!

#disventure camp #dcas #dcas power rankings #disventure camp spoilers #check out who's BASICALLY ON TIME THIS WEEK!!! >:D #fuck everyone else this is MY redemption arc #connor disventure camp #riya disventure camp #gabby disventure camp #jake disventure camp #grett disventure camp #ally disventure camp #aiden disventure camp #tom disventure camp #alec disventure camp #yul disventure camp

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pastelwitchling · 2 years ago

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Alex Manes Appreciation Week (2/5)

Alex’s sleeping patterns weren’t getting any better. Michael was used to waking alone some nights, but it was starting to feel like days since he’d had Alex in his arms, and it was starting to show on Alex’s face, too.

“Those dark circles are getting worse,” Michael murmured one late morning, brushing a thumb under Alex’s eye, and sighed, “Are you getting any sleep lately?”

“I’m fine,” Alex insisted, kissed the back of Michael’s hand, and let it fall. “I’ve got to go, I’m going to be late.”

“Alex,” Michael followed him to the door, exasperated, “can’t you take today off? You’re exhausted, you need to rest!”

“Guerin, I told you I can handle it.”

“Damn it, Manes!” Michael blocked the door. “Would you stop for a second and listen to me?”

Alex’s shoulders fell and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Guerin—”

“Look at yourself,” he demanded. “You’ve been wearing your prosthetic for days, you can barely stand longer than a few minutes at a time, you haven’t gotten any shuteye—”

“And I’m not going to,” Alex cut in gently. “Listen, I get that you’re worried about me and you love me, but pushing is not going to make a difference. Not now.”

“Why?” Michael faltered. “What’s so special about now?”

Alex licked his lips and shut his eyes, turning away. Michael followed him into the living room where he set his duffel bag by the foot of the couch and sat down, dropping his head into his hands and heaving a sigh.

“Alex?” Michael’s concern was mounting in his chest and he sat down next to his husband, hesitating for just a second before putting a hand between his shoulder blades. “Talk to me, baby. What’s going on?”

Alex picked his head up, but his expression was numb. His thumbs carved into the backs of his hands as he interlocked his fingers.

Finally, he said, “I had this friend, back in my Air Force days. Well . . . friend might be too small a word.”

The implication was clear, and Michael’s hand paused only for a split second before he continued rubbing.

“Okay,” he said softly, encouraging.

“His name was Scott Mason,” Alex went on. “I would’ve given up in base training if it wasn’t for him, Guerin. We helped each other, looked after each other . . . he made me realize that there were more important things than winning, but he never let me lose either. When I left the Air Force, he said it’d lost its appeal and that he was coming home, too. Except about a week before . . .”

He trailed off and ran a hand through his hair. “His death anniversary’s this Friday, and I always”—he cleared his throat—“I always get like this around the day, and I—I make up for the sleep later, that’s why I know I can handle it. Because I always do.”

But Michael was already pulling him in against him, one hand in his hair and the other gripping his arm tightly. He pressed his lips to Alex’s forehead hard as unwanted images flashed in his mind. If it had been Alex who’d been lost to him a week before he was supposed to come to Roswell, the idea of Alex’s death anniversary. What Michael would’ve been like and what he’d done around a day like that. His grip turned to vice, and Alex chuckled against his neck.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m safe.”

Michael swallowed. “Sometimes I forget that you had this whole other life away from me. If . . . if I’d lost you—”

“But you didn’t,” Alex said soothingly, putting a hand on Michael’s chest as if to calm his heart racing. “I’m right here. And I’m going to be fine, I promise. I just have to get through the day.”

“I know,” he said, and shut his eyes when Alex’s arms came around his waist to hug him back.

A long several minutes passed, then Alex asked—

“Are you planning to let me go any time soon?”

“No.”

“Got it.”

***

@alexmanesappreciation

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #alexmanesweek23 #alexappreciation23 #malex fic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

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thislovintime · 2 years ago

Photo

During the filming of Head: (photos 1-5) possibly April 11, 1968, photos by Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images, and Henry Diltz; a costume fitting, March 26, 1968 (photo via the official Peter Tork Facebook page).

Peter Tork: “There was a bit of a contradiction between the plan and execution. I think if due consideration had been given to where we wanted The Monkees to go next, we would have not only had a better movie, but maybe even moved the career forward instead of stopping it dead in its tracks.”

Q: "When the idea for Head was bandied about, was it based on artistic expression, rebellion, or just an opportunity to cash in on the Monkees name?”

 Peter Tork: “It was an expression of where we were at the time. When we first talked about making a movie, the four of us agreed that we really didn't want to do a 90-minute episode of The Monkees. We wanted to go beyond sitcom situations, because growing up, [Micky] and I had seen some of our favorite TV shows, like McHale's Navy and Dragnet, turn into awful movies.The fairest understanding of the movie was that it was [director and co-producer] Bob Rafelson's take on the Monkees phenomenon overall, without much of a comment or a conclusion. The gist of the movie is the Monkees remain trapped and it seems like they're never getting out of it, which was peculiar because the movie was an effort to get out of it. Other than that, it was a little surreal, some parts are extraordinarily funny, and a lot of that is Jack Nicholson's idea of what was funny.”

Q: “What was your history with Nicholson at that point?”

PT: “ He didn't have much of a history with us. He'd come around the set for a while. He was fun and funny. He had a style and gestures. Mike adopted him completely. And then one day Bob said, ‘Jack's going to help make the movie.’ We were delighted because there was no mistaking Jack's power and capacity, intellectually and artistically. It was clear that here was a man who managed to make himself socially acceptable by bottling all of his insanity and putting it into useful channels. A very rare quality and one that's made him the superstar that he is. You couldn't help but feel that.”

Q: “ There were plenty of psychedelic films being produced at that time to varying degrees of success, so why didn't Head stick?”

PT: “ The Monkees ran into a brick wall and [Head] was part of that. And the fact that it was marketed as a head movie to the suburban kids and as a suburban, bubblegum movie to all the heads didn't help much either. It was a disaster in the making from some points of view. Commercially, surely.” - EW dot com, November 12, 2008

* * *

Head, of course, features two Tork songs:

“‘Can You Dig It’ is about the Tao. The hook line I wrote in my dressing room on the set [of the television series in 1967]. The chords for the chorus I’d written in college, and [they] had just stuck with me. I hadn’t been able to do a thing with them until I was sittin’ there, just writin’ on a scrap of paper with ideas, and I wrote, 'Can you dig it?/Do you know/Would you care to let it show?’ Those three as a triplet — as opposed to a couplet. I just looked at them and [went], 'Wow!’ I grabbed a pencil and circled those three. They were part of a quatrain. I said, ‘Wait a minute. No, this works best as a little three-line chorus.’” - Peter Tork, Head box set liner notes (x)

“The funny thing is that the lyrics [to ‘Long Title: Do I Have To Do This All Over Again?’] came to me right out of the air. I was just playing those chord changes on the guitar, and I opened my mouth and that’s what popped out. The song was weirdly prophetic. I had no idea that was going to be my attitude about anything having to do with music when I wrote that song. I wrote the lyrics in London on that famous trip with Karen Harvey Hammer and Justin Hammer, who are Lady and Baby respectively of the song ‘Lady’s Baby.’” - Peter Tork, Listen To The Band liner notes (x)

“I think they’re [‘Can You Dig It?’ and ‘Long Title: Do I Have To Do This All Over Again?’] the best songs in the movie [Head]. I love both of them. I thought they were just terrific. He had plugged himself into that whole Stephen Stills connection and was working with those guys. I think they fit the movie better than anything did. When those two songs start up in the movie, it comes alive for me.” - Michael Nesmith, Head box set liner notes

#Peter Tork #The Monkees #Monkees #1960s #60s Tork #<3 #Tork quotes #Head (1968)#long read #been typing up a lot of interviews/articles so long reads will be frequent #Tork songs #Can You Dig It #Long Title: Do I Have To Do This All Over Again #1968 #can you queue it

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angelofrainfrogs · 11 months ago

Text

Going Back: Ch. 6

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: Things are looking up for Gregory. After putting the soul of a formerly-immortal killer to rest, he and his new family can finally begin their lives anew. Sure, Gregory might have been cursed with mysterious Remnant in exchange for being involved in this mess—not to mention his caretakers consist of sentient robots and ghosts… But there’s no doubt that the bond they share is unbreakable. They love him, and he in turn.

All in all, life is finally starting to go right for once.

…Unfortunately, true peace is a hard-won battle. There are other things to contend with besides William’s decrepit soul, and Gregory will learn that his role in the lives of the Aftons and Emilys is far greater than anyone could’ve imagined.

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

Michael’s heart dropped to his stomach. Out of all the missing children, it had to be Gregory’s parents that came calling?

The image on the poster was unmistakable—the spitting image of Evan, Gregory’s smiling face stared out at them with his formerly deep brown eyes. Although, Mike noted he seemed to have a little more baby fat in this picture than he did in real life. It was a small detail and certainly didn’t prevent anyone from recognizing the boy, but Mike wondered why they’d used a clearly out of date image for such a thing.

Based on everything Gregory had said or implied about his foster family, Michael didn’t trust this woman’s intentions one bit.

Samuel swallowed the lump in his throat. Yep, he’d seen this missing kid alright—the only one still alive, and who’d already been adopted by one of his formerly Glamrock stars. Sam glanced from the paper up to Rita, meeting her gaze with a practiced smile.

“Not to my recollection, no—however, my staff and I can review our footage from… Uh, when did you say he went missing?” Sammy asked, trying his best to be thorough with the lie. He’d learned how to craft a good poker face from his friend Michael as they grew up. Though Sammy didn’t feel good about lying to this woman, he had no choice at the moment. He passed the poster with the information to Charlie, who studied the page intently.

Gregory Smith

DOB: 08/08/2010

Last seen on wandering south side Hurricane. Any information regarding the case can be referenced with the local police department’s number listed below.

Leaning over, Charlie let Michael see the poster, unsure of how well she was hiding her true volatile emotions when thinking about Gregory being taken away from them.

There was a slight downwards twitch of Rita’s mouth at Sammy’s question. Her gaze shifted to the floor for only a second before returning to his face while she answered.

“July 5th. The last time the family saw him, he was walking with these twins from down the street.” She huffed a sigh, looking away again and shaking her head. “They’ve gone missing, too. I can only guess what trouble they led my sweet boy into…”

Michael clenched his jaw to keep from verbally lashing out. July 5th?! The date had just crept its way into August! No way they could’ve been looking for Gregory almost a month and not checked the mega mall every kid and their cousin hung out in whenever they could… Something just wasn’t adding up.

“We’ll be sure to keep an eye out, Mrs. Smith,” Mike managed to say eventually with a wry, bright-eyed look of barely-contained fury. It was an expression that said Michael was not to be trifled with, and anyone who dared risked his immediate wrath. Hopefully, Rita would take this as empathy for her lost child and determination to locate him.

“Ah, thank… thank you,” she said, almost flinching back at Michael’s face. Looking to Sammy again, she pulled out a folded-over sticky note from her jacket pocket and handed it to him. “You can keep the poster; here’s my personal number. If you find any information, please give me a call. We just want our boy home safe as soon as possible.”

Sammy and Michael pulling off their good cop, bad cop routine seemed to keep the mom from asking too many questions. Charlie was simply trying to hold back from asking how she knew her “sweet boy” wasn’t dead by now?

To not sound the alarm for the better part of four weeks… Were they just hoping Gregory fell off the face of the planet?

Charlie was willing to bet they were asking questions around town now in light of the random Pizzaplex shutdown. That inevitably brought the conversation of missing kids to the forefront, and surely people were curious as to where the twins had gone—where nine damn children disappeared to. With the security cameras having been “faulty” or completely turned off from their scheduled recording thanks to a glitch in the system, there would thankfully be no proof that the children, including Gregory, were ever here.

Samuel carefully took the note, committing the number to memory before folding it back up to set inside his own jacket pocket. “Yes, Mrs. Smith—and on behalf of the company, I give you our condolences. I'm sure you'll find your son soon; boys run away all the time...”

He downplayed the situation's severity, feeling somewhat sick as he lied. It felt wrong to just tell someone they would find their "missing" kid eventually when Sam knew where he was at that very moment.

Is this how William felt when he spoke to these distraught parents face to face?

No, Samuel thought, swallowing the bile in his throat. If that monster felt this way, he wouldn't have done what he did in the first place.

“Thank you,” Rita said, offering Sammy a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She looked to Charlie and Michael with the same sad expression, then to everyone’s relief turned to leave. “We’ll be in touch.”

To Michael’s credit, he waited until the woman made it out the front doors before losing his cool.

“Almost a fucking month he’s been gone?!” he hissed, turning to the Emilys with fire in his eyes. “What the hell have they been doing this whole damn time?!”

They’d been neglectful to the kid—that had been obvious from his appearance and the little details Gregory let slip out. But this was a whole other level. To not sound the alarm that your child was missing after a day was suspicious enough, let alone randomly kicking up the search after all this time. And so close to Gregory’s birthday, too… It made Michael queasy to think about what Gregory must’ve gone through at the hands of these people.

“We can’t let them take him, Sammy. That woman is bad news—I just know it.” Deflating slightly, he thought aloud: “Shit, what are we going to tell him and Freddy? They’re going to be upset…”

“That lady's a stone cold bitch,” Charlie snapped, glaring at the door after Rita’s departure. Though she liked to believe the best in people at heart, there was something wicked about her that Charlie could practically smell. Maybe it was the way Rita withheld information about Gregory, or how she never thought to check or call the Pizzaplex the weeks her son had been missing. “There's no way you're going to rat on him, right?”

“No—absolutely not. Gregory's not going back with her. God, she doesn't even care. You can tell...” Sam spoke with a manner of disgust in his voice, not entirely able to believe his own words. “Can you imagine what’d happen if we sent that poor kid back with her? He could wind up on drugs, or out on the street! Or, god forbid—”

Dead. For good.

Rita was the kind of mom that didn't care when you scrapped your knee, or whether you had a mysteriously dry cough. Ironically, Gregory would be worse off in the care of a mother who had no maternal instincts than the mechanical bear designed to be a rockstar...

“We'll be gentle and assure them we have a plan,” Charlie said, squeezing Michael’s hand and making Samuel tilt his head curiously at his sister.

“We have a plan?” he asked, making his twin shrug in turn.

“No,” Charlie replied with a lopsided grin. “But we'll think of one! We just can't have either of them stressing about it. Alright?”

“Agreed,” Mike said with a nod, returning the hand squeeze. He spared one last look at Rita as she hopped in her car and drove off, sneering at her back. Then he took a deep breath, gathering himself before heading back to the Daycare.

Once everyone had composed themselves, they returned to the cheerful, rainbow-studded room. The irony they’d have to deliver such unpleasant news in this place didn’t escape Michael. Of course, Sun spotted them as soon as they entered, always attuned to the sound of the door and the arrival of new guests.

“They’re back!” the cheery animatronic announced, waving to the trio. He was quick to make his way over to the door, eagerly wanting to spend as much time with his new friends and his good pal Sammy as he could. Freddy, Gregory, and Ennard weren’t far behind, soon crowded around Sun just in time for Michael and the Emilys to walk into the play area.

“Wow—did you guys really miss us that much?” Michael joked, ruffling Gregory’s hair while taking in the sight of the little crowd. He’d managed to plaster on a semi-convincing smile—at least enough not to immediately alert the others of anything amiss.

Mike may be able to fool people, but where Samuel could lie out of his ass to strangers, just like his sister he wore his emotions on his sleeve to those he was close to. Unable to help the frown settling in, Sam kept his head turned from the kid who seemed to stare right into his soul.

“OF COURSE WE MISSED YOU,” Ennard remarked, closing in as Gregory scrutinized the group. Charlie gingerly patted Ennard’s mask as they leaned towards her and Mike.

Gregory stood with his arms crossed. The mood was off. He didn't know why, but the group was hiding something. It was becoming increasingly obvious as Samuel rubbed his neck and cleared his throat.

“So—gang, uh... I have some news to break to you all. Just know that it's no cause for alarm.” He started off gently, as per Charlie's advice. This sent a shiver of worry down Gregory's spine, only looking fully panicked once Samuel asked him directly: “Son, tell me... Do you know a Rita Smith?”

For all they knew, this could be a total stranger trying to cash in on a payout of finding their “lost kid.” It was a disgusting tactic, but unfortunately wouldn’t be the first time the old CEO had seen it. Only in this case, Sam was hoping this was true.

Now it was Gregory's turn to lie.

“Huh? Rita who? Pft. I don't... know anyone named that. Dumb name if you ask me...” Gregory scoffed, pushing his emotions under the figurative bed with the mention of that dreaded, loathsome person. He suddenly turned on his heel, facing the Pizzaplex that’d become his new home with all its fun attractions. Now that he made it safe in here, there was no reason to face the danger out there.

“This conversation’s boring; let's play more, guys!” Gregory urged, starting off for the jungle gym.

“Gregory, wait.” Freddy's tone was soft but commanding as he expertly snagged the collar of Gregory's shirt, holding him in place. His gaze swiveled between the boy and his surrogate siblings, a distinct crease of worry between his brows. Rather than chiding him for lying about a topic that was obviously distressing, Freddy turned his attention to the adults. “What is going on?”

“Well... like Sam said, don't worry,” Michael began, trying to quell the rising tension. Even Sun seemed nervous, wringing his hands together and somehow already knowing this conversation was beyond his current level of understanding. “But that woman Vanessa mentioned? That was Rita Smith. She's looking for her kid.” At this, his gaze flickered to Gregory, and suddenly Freddy understood.

“Gregory's mother?” Freddy questioned, his voice straining ever-so-slightly. He shifted his grasp from the boy's shirt to his shoulders, pulling Gregory in to lean against his leg. It was a poignantly protective gesture, clearly showing Freddy's need to keep him safe at all times. Looking down at the boy in question, Freddy asked gently: “Is she really your foster mother? Please, superstar, you can tell us the truth—you know we only want to protect you.”

As all eyes watched Gregory with pleading stares to open up, he glanced away. He was soothed by Freddy's gesture of protection, keeping him caged in by his arms where he felt it was safest to tell the truth.

“…Fine. Yeah, I lived in her house with her husband and their kids. She’s got two of her own, but I’m the only adopted one. She's no mother,” Gregory said with a look of distain and hatred that Charlie certainly never saw before. At Gregory's ankles the Puppet imparted a hug, as she could tell that the poor kid really didn't care to speak on it. It was painful, but they needed to know what was happening. Gregory took in a deep breath and continued.

“I lived there for, like... two years now? No one else wanted me from the foster home; the Smiths were the only people that kept me for more than a few months. I can't—c-can’t even remember my stupid birth parents... Just them. Their ugly faces—” Gregory sniffled, hands clenching at his sides until his knuckles were an icy white, nails digging deep into his palms to ground himself as he felt anger rising. “Their stupid real kids and that ugly fucking house—”

The poor boy was shaking now. He was submitted to neglect and heartache there that no child should have to endure.

“Gregory...,” Charlie chided gently, knowing he was upset but that those words would distress Sun in turn. Ennard already had them covered by folding their hands over where Sun should have ears, were he a real person. “We won't let her get you. I—we promise you that.”

Sun had let out a little gasp at Gregory's harsh curses, but to everyone's surprise otherwise kept his mouth shut. His protocol to protect and comfort the child far outweighed any coding that would make him lecture the boy for swearing. However, despite his intense desire to pick Gregory up and hug him close, he reasoned it best to step back and let the others discuss. To keep himself from reaching out he wrapped his arms around Ennard, keeping a tight grip on the amalgamation as he watched the others with a worried tilt of his head.

“She, nor anyone from that household will ever lay a finger on you, Gregory,” Freddy said with resolute determination. The mere thought of a child being mistreated was enough to enrage the normally-docile bear, so the fact this was his boy who'd suffered at the hands of these horrendous people made him want to march right to them and give him a piece of his mind. Instead, he lifted Gregory into his arms and hugged him close. “You are my son and nothing is going to change that. I will always keep you safe, and so will everyone in this room.”

Were his words a bit possessive? Maybe... but no one was in a position to knock Freddy for wanting to protect Gregory with every fiber of his being.

It was a fierce sensation, to love someone so much you'd risk everything to keep them safe—but to Michael, it was also a familiar one. It's what he'd been doing for decades after all, spurred on by the desire to right his wrongs and make up for the protection he couldn't provide before.

This case was no different. Rita and her family might not be possessed animatronics or murderous, British mechanics, but they meant Gregory harm... and that was something Michael absolutely couldn't stand.

“We'll figure something out,” he reassured, stepping closer to wrap his arms around the embracing pair. “You're safe with us.”

Charlie saw how frightening Freddy could be at the mere thought of someone taking his son away. As perturbed as that made her, she understood the obligation and love the animatronics had for children in the first place when programmed correctly. Her Puppet for example: it was designed with its first default function to protect anyone with a green bracelet should its facial recognition fail. In the event that she might be hurt, the robot was designed to even ruin itself to keep Charlotte safe.

“I already have a plan,” Gregory murmured, his thoughts becoming sharper with his anger. Even so, Gregory could get himself to stop shaking as floods of awful memories attacked his psyche. “And... I’ll need Cassidy's and the other ghosts’ help. We’re gonna scare Rita and Terry so hard they’ll crap blood.”

Charlie made a face at the crass wording, though she supposed it was par for the course for boys his age. She'd certainly heard Michael say way, way worse by the time they were teenagers.

“Gross—but so far, I'm loving the plan,” she answered with a laugh.

“Me too,” Michael said, fully on board with anything that involved scaring horrendous parents. “We'll get them off your tail for sure.”

“Let us not be too hasty,” Freddy warned gently, his own spike of anger fading in light of the shift in tone. It was all well and good for the adults to make the threat go away, but when it came to children—even immortal and undead ones—Freddy was hesitant to put them in the potential line of fire. Still, he had to reason that their help might not just be beneficial, but necessary for such a monumental task as making foster parents go away.

“Come on, Freddy,” Michael couldn't help but groan, looking at the former bear imploringly. “Having them all help out would be super useful!”

“Oh no, do not misunderstand—I am not opposed to the idea,” Freddy clarified, his bright eyes meeting Michael's. “I simply meant that we need to discuss things in depth before we put any plan into action.”

Mike patted his back warmly, pleasantly surprised the former animatronic had been so easily convinced to do something that involved messing with humans in a non-friendly way. He couldn't help but wonder if there was still a little bit of his rebellious disposition snagged in Freddy's personality chip, even after moving to a new body...

“Um, I... I'm sorry to say I don't think I can help much with this situation,” Sun piped up in an unusually soft voice. He'd let go of Ennard to clasp his hands in front of his chest, looking between the humans. “But I still want to do something! So... feel free to use the Daycare as a safe space to rest, or regroup, or plan, or... whatever you need! Oh—as long as Sammy's okay with that, of course.”

He tilted his head, static eyes fixed on the rather gaunt CEO. “Are you okay, Sammy?”

“C... Cassidy?” The crew turned to Samuel, who seemed to shake at the thought of more than just the Afton children and his father haunting the Pizzaplex. “You all never told me—how many kids are...? Oh man...”

A clammy hand clasped over Samuel's mouth as the bile rose through the pit that formed in his stomach. Sam wobbled a little, but Ennard was fast in helping the CEO to sit on the floor. Charlie bit at her nails, hurrying to her brother’s side. She hadn’t yet tried to explain what had happened in that nearly inaccessible backroom.

“Hey,” Charlie reached out for him “It's fine—”

Flinching away, Samuel looked to Charlie and asked his sister “—Fine? Charlie there's more dead children I didn't know about and you're telling me things are fine? I mean—fuck, I guess I knew deep down but—”

His voice never raised, but wobbled with sadness as Charlie fretted over her mistake of not telling him right away. Samuel tried to square his breathing before speaking again.

“I... I don't know. Sure, if those ghosts want to help—let them help Gregory. The poor kid needs it,” he conceded, merely needing to come to terms with the idea that there were plenty of ghosts haunting this place that prevented him from truly escaping the past.

Gregory could see why the man was upset, and told him: “It's going to be okay, Sam. Trust me—I mean, Charlie and Mike are ghosts, and they're pretty happy people. Right, guys?”

“God, Sam, I... I'm sorry,” Michael apologized, sinking down to the floor next to his old friend. To everyone but Samuel the concept of ghost children running around was merely a sad but inevitable fact. Mike was so used to the idea that he'd forgotten poor Sammy had only become aware of the true horror of Fazbear Entertainment's past the day prior... Honestly, Michael was amazed this latest revelation hadn't caused a full-on breakdown. His friend had gotten so strong over the years, despite everything.

“We should've told you sooner,” he admitted, placing a hesitant hand on Sammy's back, almost afraid he might reject the gesture. When he wasn't shoved off, Michael gave his friend a little smile and shook him gently. “But Gregory's got a point—Charlie and I are technically ghosts too, but we're okay. And what about your dad? You wouldn't even know he's one; he's just like his old self!”

There was a pause in which Michael's expression shifted to something unintelligible, and then he added in a soft voice: “Look, I've been chasing after ghosts since I was a kid. I know which ones are happy and which ones are vengeful, and trust me—the ones we've encountered in the Pizzaplex so far definitely lean towards the nicer side of spirits... Everything's going to be okay. We'll figure it out.”

We'll figure it out...

It was the mantra of his childhood. For a moment, Sam was transported somewhere far and distant. A time passed so long ago it felt like he was watching it inside of an old analogue television set. With every tragedy Samuel faced, he was met with the same philosophy.

Things never exactly turned out fine. Far from it, actually. Sam was so tired of all the cursed blood attached to the Fazbear IP. Tragedy was sure to follow whatever establishment bore the franchise name.

“I'm not mad, you guys. Or scared... I'm sad. It's not right what he did. I... I think I need to sleep. Yeah... Sun? Be a doll and lower the lights?” Samuel could feel a migraine coming on, and thought he should rest. “Know that the Pizzaplex is at your disposal however you need, guys. And the kids? As long as they're good, they’re free to visit, too.”

It clearly bummed Samuel out to think of them as dead. The survivor’s guilt triggering once again, and feeling like he had unintentionally trapped these children by making another death trap for William to build around.

Before completely falling into unconsciousness, Sam had enough wherewithal to lift his walkie and murmur into the mic: "Vanessa? Can you hang tight for another hour or so? I got a little held up."

"I don't really have anywhere else to go, so sure," the former night guard crackled back through the static.

Luckily, Gregory's little pillow cloud hadn't yet been disassembled. Sun cared for all the employees at the Pizzaplex, but he had a soft spot for the ever-tired CEO and was always glad to let Sam rest in his protective care. He was at the light switch in a few long strides, flipping it down with deft fingertips that would soon shift from white to blue as he instinctually ducked behind the desk to hide his transformation. Michael couldn't help but let out a soft huff at this, curious as ever to see what exactly happened to the Daycare attendant when darkness fell. For the moment though, he was content to let Sammy rest against him, rubbing his upper arm soothingly as he held him in a side hug.

“I'll take him from here,” Moon's low voice rasped. The second Michael released Sam, Moon was quick to lift him up to cradle him like a child, ignoring whatever protests the CEO might make as he was carried over to the fluffy cloud of comfort. He placed Sammy directly in the center, giving his head the gentlest of pats before stepping back. Moon's faintly-glowing eyes settled on the rest of the group as he told them: “I'll watch over Sammy, don't worry—you all should rest as well. We'll see you tomorrow, after all, ehehehe...”

“...Right,” Mike replied, getting to his feet with a sigh. He hated leaving Sammy in such a state, but it was getting late and he wanted to make a good impression tomorrow morning.

“Thank you, Moon—we greatly appreciate it. Have a good night,” Freddy said, still carrying Gregory as he gave the attendant a gentle smile, then made his way for the door with the others not far behind.

“Night, guys,” called out Sammy. Despite his chagrin, Moon was quick to put Samuel to bed. Sam didn't know if he’d have pleasant dreams, however—so tonight he was more inclined to talk with Moon until he grew too tired to speak.

When Gregory went to walk away with his family, Puppet's protective arms seemed to tangle up the kid's legs. She didn't want Gregory to go—what if that lady they were talking about found him? She was going to hurt Gregory, Puppet knew it. Unfortunately she couldn't communicate any of this, and Gregory bent at the waist to hug her.

“I'll be back tomorrow, Puppet.” Gregory smiled before easily relocating the Marionette, making her wring her hands together nervously.

Gregory hadn't realized the same was happening to Michael; Ennard practically breathed down the back of their “friend’s” neck as they followed him across the playground floor. As Gregory trailed after his dad, he was pretty sure he overheard Sam asking if Ennard was made out of ripped up carpeting and old endos, hoping his friend the Moon would know. Gregory snickered to himself at Sam's confusion, the only thing that could cheer him up in the moment.

“Ennard, stop,” Michael said upon realizing the animatronic was not going to back off on their own.

Even after all the time they'd spend together, it would be a lie to say Mike was at peace with Ennard—or frankly even that he was fully comfortable in their presence. That wasn't going to happen for quite a while, if ever, though it certainly wasn't for lack of trying on Ennard's part. There was simply too much residual trauma lurking in the depths of Michael's mind to process that the creature could truly not be a threat to him in some capacity.

Still, the fact that the rest of his family seemed content enough in Ennard's presence did ease Mike a little. He was able to resist the urge to lash out as he used to, even managing to lower his voice into a normal, almost understanding tone as he added: “I'll be fine. So will everyone else, okay? Just chill and stay out of people's sight while we're gone.”

Instead of turning on his heel and leaving immediately, Michael crossed his arms over his chest and waited for a response. Coupled with his raised eyebrow and stern expression, it looked like he was trying to explain object permanence to a child who hadn't grasped the concept yet, instead of telling a years-old conglomeration of metallic wires and AI that their friends would return to play another night.

It made sense in theory. And Ennard knew they could easily overpower Michael and keep him there with them if they really wanted to. It would be easy. Though that wasn't the type of person Michael could stand to be around, it seemed.

Sometimes doing things the right way was worth it in the long run, they'd learned.

“GOODBYE, EGG,” they said like a secret joke between the two of them. Maybe one day Mike could appreciate the typo as much as they could. Ennard opened their arms, waiting for a hug—though, as Sun explained it once, sometimes people just don’t want to be touched. Ennard wouldn't hold it against Michael should he choose to just leave—they never really blamed the former night guard anyway.

“Oh, for fu—” Michael caught himself just in time to avoid activating Moon and Freddy's swearing protocols at once. With a heavy roll of his eyes, Mike uncrossed his arms to let them hang loosely at his sides. He looked up at Ennard with a scathing expression, surprised they even thought Michael would hug them at this point.

The pair stared each other down before Michael oh-so-slowly raised a hand. It looked like he was about to smack the robot, but he simply gave the back of Ennard's left hand one single, swift pat.

“Alright, let's go,” he said quickly, turning his back on the amalgamation and leading the charge out of the Daycare.

To Ennard, there was no way of misinterpreting that response: he and Mike were indeed “besties,” as Sun would say. In Ennard’s twisted head, that was undisputed.

As they reached the exit Gregory squinted through the tinted glass doors, concerned people he knew would be waiting for him outside. There was no convincing him that the outside was totally safe, so Charlie lifted Gregory up and held him in a way that made it easier to bury his face away in her shoulder. Gregory had voiced that hiding his features made him feel a little more hidden as the family traveled onward back to their paid room. As Charlie hauled their precious cargo back to their temporary home, she asked Gregory what he wanted for dinner.

“Pizza…,” he replied in a forlorn fashion.

Charlie would shake her head and suggested gently: “Maybe something different? You ate a lot of pizza recently, kiddo.”

It was clear Gregory needed variety in his diet. Who knows how they used to feed him at his old house anyway judging by his eating habits…

“How about a salad?” Freddy offered, though he had a feeling this option wouldn't go over well. Sure enough, Michael scoffed at the very notion.

“Geez, Freddy, I thought you were supposed to be a nice robot—don't torture the kid!” he griped, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I am doing no such thing,” Freddy replied with slightly narrowed eyes. “Vegetables are a healthy part of a balanced diet, and Gregory certainly needs one.”

“Yeah, but a salad?” Michael shook his head, then looked to Gregory and Charlie for their opinions. “What do you guys think? Salads for everyone, yay or nay?”

Charlie would probably agree with Freddy, even if she could stand to eat anything unhealthy for days at a time considering it would never affect her health. Gregory answered first shrugging it off.

“Salads are fine—as long as they have grilled chicken or those ham and cheese wheel things!” he said, hoisted up better into Charlie’s arms as she chuckled at him.

“Little carnivore... I’m sure we can find something good on the menu,” she added as they entered the parking lot area of the tourist trap hotel.

Despite Michael’s earlier protestations, he made no qualms when it actually came time to order—like Charlie, he realized the value of getting something green in Gregory’s system that wasn’t Monty-themed Fizzy Faz. While Charlie was on the phone, Michael took the opportunity to snatch Gregory up the second his feet touched the ground and toss him onto the couch, eliciting a surprised laugh.

“So, Freddy,” Michael began. “You never actually told us what Henry said about us eating.”

“To be frank… Henry does not quite understand what is happening either," Freddy replied, perching on the couch as well.

Michael tilted his head with a downturn of his lips. “…What do you mean?”

“He and Samuel opened up my body and looked around, but there was no evidence of me having eaten anything,” Freddy explained. “It was as if the food simply disappeared into thin air. I brought up the concept of converting it to energy like normal humans do, which Henry said made sense… if he designed that capability, which he did not.”

Freddy gave a little shrug, bright eyes filled with wonder and mirth. “Henry said, and please excuse my language as this is a direct quote: ‘Whatever is happening is a freaking supernatural miracle!’”

Hearing Freddy say something considered crude by the animatronics standards left Charlie in a fit of giggles. She held her stomach as Gregory burst into laughter as well—though he did have to force it some even if he was genuinely happy. When he'd heard Rita’s name, Gregory felt as though he was slipping back into the notion he wouldn’t be safe anywhere. Wherever he went, it was as if people were out to get him. The fact his foster parents even noticed that he was gone both astonished and scared him.

“That’s good, though! You can still eat burgers and try a bunch of new stuff!” Gregory would encourage, reclining back with his big brother.

Charlie was a little more skeptical. “It’s just gone? Inexplicably?”

It was just so peculiar to her. And yes, Charlie could definitely see how the supernatural murder victim thinking their robot vessel strange was a pot calling a kettle black, but her point still stood.

“Like your dad said—it’s a miracle! Nothing’s wrong so there’s no need to worry. Maybe it’s like… Magic, you know?” Gregory suggested. It wasn’t unlikely, given this crew’s eclectic circumstances.

“I would like to think so,” Freddy said with a smile, never one to quash a child’s imagination.

Besides—what else could it be, really? He used to be a huge, animatronic bear that worked from a knowledge bank of databases and logical thinking. Now, his consciousness had been transferred into a scarily humanlike android that reflected his scarily humanlike personality... Plus, his son was immortal and his other surrogate children were literal ghosts in their machines. Who’s to say there wasn’t a bit of magic floating around in the universe as well?

***

The night was blissfully uneventful, at least by their standards. To work off Gregory's burst of adrenaline and food-fueled energy, the group visited the arcade and spent a good while facing off against each other in various games. Even Freddy joined in on some, though his AI gave him a weird knack for being almost too good, making him step back in deference to letting the others enjoy the games in his stead. He much preferred to keep a watchful eye on his family anyway.

Once returned to the room, the group showered and prepared for bed, then chatted a while longer about happy plans for the future until Gregory drifted off to sleep, followed shortly thereafter by Michael and Charlie. Freddy still hadn't gotten used to the concept, but even he managed to doze for a few minutes here and there.

At some point during the day Michael slipped out to meet Sammy, leaving a note on the kitchen table to let the others know where he'd gone. He suggested it best for them to wait until nightfall to join him due to the recent development with Gregory's foster parents, and no one put up a fight to this. When darkness fell over the town the group set out, one of Gregory's hands in Freddy's while Charlie held the other.

“Hey!” Michael greeted them just inside the front doors of the Pizzaplex, seeming rather chipper. He was still dressed in casual clothes, although the disheveled state of his hair and grease-stains on his shirt and face indicated he'd been hard at work helping Sammy fix up some animatronics. “I missed you guys! How was life without me for a day?”

“Charlie and me hung out at the arcade and we built a pillow fort with Freddy!” Gregory recalled, abandoning his father’s and Charlie’s hand to give Michael a hug. Ushering them further inside, almost for fear of someone recognizing Gregory from the many more missing children posters she’d noticed now that she was allowed outside, Charlie agreed with a nod.

“We left it up—mostly because there’s a back to back marathon of Immortal and the Restless on later and I wanted Gregory to see the first episode,” she planned. It was weird but welcomed to see Michael back at it with the mechanic work.

Down one of the staircases Samuel jogged with a shopping bag in hand. He looked a lot happier than when they left; he’d really needed that nap after the horrible news he'd received.

“Gather ‘round, you guys. It’s present time!” he called enthusiastically, barely able to contain the surprise he had in store for them. “I went out and thought I’d get you guys something useful. I think you’re going to like the colors I picked out.”

“That is very kind of you, Samuel,” Freddy responded, settling himself at the man's side and giving the CEO a warm smile. “You have already done so much for us...”

“And we're eternally grateful for everything,” Michael added quickly, flashing his old friend a grin. “So what's in the bag?”

“Check it out! I got us a family plan!” From the white shopper’s bag Sam produced a dark green rectangle, first presenting it to Charlie. She gladly took the gift, looking happy—even though she was completely lost on what it was, exactly. It looked expensive though.

“You get one—here Michael, I got you the black one, and Freddy gets a red one!” Samuel had taken the liberty to plugging in the SIM cards, but left the personalization up them. “We should have each other’s numbers already synced, too. So now we can always be in touch.”

Looking up to Sam, Gregory pulled on his shirt with a bullishly bright stare. “What color’s mine?”

“Uh… Sorry, kid, you’re still a little too young,” Sam said, silently breaking Gregory’s heart. Though he dug inside the bag anyway with an air of excitement. “Aw, don’t look so sad—of course I didn’t forget to get you something, too. Here’s your present!”

Into Gregory’s hands, a little digital drawing tablet in a bright blue case was entrusted. It wasn’t a phone, but Gregory was still appreciative as he flashed Sam another bright smile. “Thank you!”

“Holy crap!” Michael exclaimed, not even feeling Freddy's quick glare due to the shock of receiving such a gift. “Sam, these are like... are these the latest models?!” Upon Sammy's nod, Mike blinked a few times, before reverently pressing the phone to his chest and pulling his friend in for a brief but meaningful hug.

Freddy was turning his own device over in his hand, letting out a little “oh!” as the screen suddenly lit up, nearly blinding him with its brightness. Unsure of how to make it stop, he simply flipped the phone over so the display faced the floor, where it turned off a few seconds later. When Freddy tentatively raised it back up, he was blinded yet again. Sure, he'd seen a million of these things during his time as a rockstar, but handling one himself was a new experience.

“Freddy, you can adjust that!” Michael laughed, quickly moving over to help as he saw the former bear's confusion. Slipping his own phone in a pants pocket for the time being, he took Freddy's and began walking him through how to set up his account profile, then adjust the light and sound settings. He spared a quick glance at Charlie, but by the look on her face Michael knew she'd require a lot more time and guidance to get her up to speed...

With a start, Mike realized that while he'd been gallivanting about the real world and keeping up with the times, all Charlie's exposure to technology had been confined to the Pizzerias—more specifically, the animatronics within. The last time she'd really interacted with a cell phone had been the 80s... No wonder she looked completely lost. God, Evan and Lizzie's eyes were going to bug out of their heads when they saw these things, too.

“Oh! Mine’s lighting up when I move it…,” Charlie said, confused when she touched the screen, only to have the screen say hello. Wondering about the capabilities of this square robot’s AI, she greeted with a cheerful: “Oh… Hi! My name’s Charlie.”

Gregory snickered, shaking his head. “Nooo, Charlie it can’t really understand you. It’s AI can only remember stuff you tell it to remember.”

Charlie would shrug, hugging her brother as repayment for the gift. “Thank you for the… The uh—” Charlie had to admit now that she didn’t know what exactly her brother gave to her, but it was pretty and green—her favorite color.

“It’s a cellphone, you goof!” Samuel laughed, patting his sister’s back as he knew she really did mean that she loved her gift, despite ignorance on what it really did. “I figured they'd work better than walkie talkies. Plus, Mike deserves it for helping me go the extra mile today—Freddy, I know I promised you I’d find Bonnie and fix him up…” Samuel began, though the look on Freddy’s face made it apparent that he knew just what the man was going to tell him.

“You did not...,” Freddy whispered, looking to Michael for confirmation. After all they'd been through, he thought Mike would want to avoid any contact with Bonnie for the foreseeable future.

Though they all knew it was William's soul controlling the normally-friendly rabbit to make him say and do such horrible things, Freddy would've been completely understanding if Michael never wanted to lay eyes on Glamrock Bonnie again. He was already out of the lineup, so while Freddy would've been sad at the confirmation his best friend was well and truly gone, he would have accepted it. But now, Sammy was implying something completely different...

“We did,” Michael replied, expression soft and understanding. As blue eyes met blue, Michael hoped his unspoken feelings would translate to the kind-hearted bear.

He'd been resistant to the idea of recommissioning Bonnie so soon, but Sammy had convinced him that if everyone else could get their old friends back from the dead, Freddy deserved to have his, too. With a smile, Michael clapped a hand on Freddy's shoulder and squeezed. “He's still got to go through a lot of tests before we can consider letting him out on the floor—extra precaution, and all that—but we managed to get him online about an hour before you guys showed up. He's hanging out in the bowling alley as we speak.”

“Oh my goodness... Michael, Samuel, I—I do not know what to say,” Freddy admitted, his last words muffled as he pressed a hand over his mouth, trying to keep his emotions in check. The first and only time he'd ever cried was when he initially left the Pizzaplex, but as his vision blurred with the realization that Bonnie was okay, Freddy wondered if this was about to be his second experience with his own falling tears.

This pure act of love and selflessness had brought tears to Charlie’s eyes as well. When she saw the telltale lip wobble of someone else about to sob, she looked to Michael and pressed back her own. “I can’t believe how fast you guys fixed him!”

Samuel would snort at that, fixing his oil-smudged glasses. “Oh his programming was a mess! Just completely jailbroken—I had to wipe the endo and start over from his last saved data point. Took hours. The body wasn't too damaged, though; just needed some touch-ups and a few replacements. Bon seems fine now, but Michael’s right. Gotta test him before he’s debuted again.”

There was sadly no room for him in rockstar row right at the moment. But Bonnie Bowl was the place that the old bunny happily took up residency for the time being. With a smile, Sam patted Freddy’s shoulder. “Want to go see him, Fredbear?”

Charlie reached out to hold Freddy’s hand, shaking it excitedly and subconsciously encouraging him to shake off the tears. Tonight had started off great, despite the hiccup in their happiness they had the previous day.

Freddy nodded without hesitation, rubbing at his face with a sleeve. Thankfully, Charlie caught him just in time to stop any liquid from escaping, and a bright, eye-crinkling smile settled on Freddy's face.

“Yes, please,” he replied to Sammy, then held out a hand to Gregory. “Superstar, Bonnie is going to love you.”

“Oh yeah, that's for sure,” Michael confirmed, crossing his arms as the group began moving to the bowling alley as one. “He's super friendly—it's no wonder he and Freddy get along so well.”

If Gregory could push the violence that Monty and Moon forced upon him far from his mind, then he was positive that he could get along great with Bonnie, too. This was Freddy’s best friend. There was no other animatronic he could trust Gregory with more now that Bon was in the right mind.

Freddy chuckled, feeling like he was about to overflow with joy. The situation with Gregory's foster parents was a blot of darkness in their lives that they'd need to address sooner rather than later, but at least for the moment he could pretend like everything was alright... Like things were back to normal.

A new normal—and a much better one, in Freddy's opinion.

***

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