#a; bravevolunteer

[slaughterlocked]

from here! @bravevolunteer

THE CREATURE MICHAEL FACES HAS NOT FELT DEFENSIVE INDIGNATION IN A VERY LONG TIME. Usually its self protection consists of strike, attack, destroy; physical destruction that it doesn’t have to think too deeply about. Not that it CAN think too deeply, these days. Reflection is more difficult than it used to be. A defence mechanism—hasn’t most of his life consisted of defensive mechanisms?—outlasting death. It hadn’t meant to end like this.

What is a father? A protective warmth? Open arms? A reassurance that a child is enough despite failure? William is none of that and never has been. And what he’s become is even less: exposed bone and rotten skin and a barely beating heart clinging to borrowed life. What the fuck does he know about fatherhood?

(Watching your boy scuff his knee and remembering your own scrapes as a child. Helping him to his feet, offering sage advice about how to deal with the pain. Knowing, inevitably, he’d fail to take it.)

(Take a deep breath, Mike. The pain isn’t that bad when you breathe, see?)

“All of this.” He says, its breathing almost louder than his words. “All of this was for family. Because of you. Don’t you think—“

A hollow, hacking cough. Matted fur moves with crushed bone, stationary face locked in a grimacing smile. Fredbear had crushed one son’s skull. Spring-Bonnie (can they even still call themselves that?) could rip out the other’s heart.

They don’t. He doesn’t.

It lumbers forwards instead, fabric and metal and bone meshed together. He can’t stop looking at Michael. Mike.

“I was rebuilding our family.” William’s voice rings out, gravelly, clinging to life if it can even be called that. “I was fixing your mistakes. You never could understand that.”

Isn’t that a father’s job? To fix things?

Emotions are so difficult these days, but he tries to recapture how he’d once felt about his son. All he manages to dredge up is an ache below where his heart had once been from a spring twitching back into place.

“You didn’t need saved.” He says. Comes to a lurching stop about five feet from Michael, unable or unwilling to get closer. “You broke things, and I fixed them. But you have never broken, Michael.” Not physically. “You didn’t need fixing.”

[runelocked]

💬 + rumor has it you don't know about the moon landing

SEND 💬 + A RUMOR AND MY MUSE WILL REACT TO IT!

There’s an unimpressed look over the top of his paper, eyebrows pinching together in that familiar crease of annoyance. Learning back in his armchair, speaking candidly, William replies:

“And rumor has it you killed your brother. Unlike your little conspiracy theories, my rumor is actually true.”

. . . Seems Michael hadn’t caught him in a great mood. His only defence is that way, way too many people are in on this “moon landing” joke, and he’s well within his right to be irritated by his son.

[runeians]

i think you got the wrong idea. (hear me out, hands you michael’s tma verse, for jonah/elias)

NO,  MICHAEL  –  JONAH  IS  CERTAIN  HE  KNOWS  EXACTLY  WHAT  THE  IDEA  IS.  Nevertheless,  he  is  also  certain  he  knows  Michael,  a  little  better  than  Michael  assumes:  their  first  meeting,  and  yet  he  has  been  keeping  an  eye  ( sorry,  an  Eye )  on  him  for  longer.  Hard  not  to,  when  the  influence  of  the  Afton  family  stretches  across  the  pond  to  Britain:  he’d  only  just  finished  dealing  with  a  particularly  dedicated  follower  of  William’s,  and  it  really  had  been  more  trouble  than  he’d  first assumed.

But  Michael;  oh,  poor,  undeserving,  wonderful  Michael.  Jonah’s  focus  has  been  turned  towards  him  for  quite  some  time,  now.  Cut  the  tree  off  at  the  root;  or,  if  the  root  cannot  be  reached,  the  closest  thing  to  it  possible will do.  Michael  wants  nothing  to  do  with  his  organization,  he  is  certain  –  and  yet  he’s  also  certain  that  that  lovely  little  selfless  streak  in  the  boy’s  chest  can  be  exploited  for  the  Eye’s  benefit.  They  do  have  a  ritual  attempt  upcoming,  after  all:  if  he  can  sic  the  boy  on  his  father  like  a  dog,  if  he  plays  his  cards  just  right . . .  then  Jonah  might  just  have  a  loyal  mutt  on  his  side  and  remove  a  nasty  thorn  from  his  side.

“ Do  I ? ”  He  asks,  voice  mild,  hands  clasped  behind  his  back.  “ Because  from  what  I  Know,  Michael – ”  No  point  acting as  if  he  has  not  Known:  honesty,  in  part,  will  get  him  further  than  lies.  “ – your  goals  just  so  happen  to  coincide  with  mine.  You  want  your  father  dead  and  buried;  I  would  very  much  like  to  stop  him  from  ending  the  world  as  we  know  it. ”  Offers  the  boy  a  slight  smile,  wry  and  companionable:  “ Perhaps  you  have  no  interest  in  joining  my  efforts.  But  I  imagine  ‘ preventing  the  end  of  the  world ’  might  just  be  what  you  want  too.  And  I  have  every  intention  of  assisting  you  with  locating  your  father. ”

[slaughterlocked]

“ ALAS. NO FREE FOOD FROM THERE. ” WILLIAM SIGHS, MOCK - REGRETFULLY. “ And my lunch break ends in fifteen. I’m afraid I’m stuck eating from this old place. ”

There’s always a touch of fondness in his voice, despite his general growing distaste for the rather predictable menu of Freddy’s. It’s not the restaurant’s fault he works there; and besides, it’s his pride and joy. One of them. Another stands behind the counter looking bored out of his mind, and William finds himself strangely incapable of getting irate about it.

“ In any case, I didn’t make the menu. ” He adds. Because this is Freddy’s: it’s got history, and if his son can’t even get it right then William’s failed somewhere along the line! “ Henry and I worked on a rudimentary plan, and then we modified it dependent on who we hired. It’s always more complicated than just ‘ making ‘ something, Mike. ” William finishes grandly. “ That’s the most valuable lesson you can learn in this world, these days. Hard work looks easy to the outside eye. ”

And, speaking of hard work—

“ A large Bonnie Beef pizza with extra cheese, then. ” A classic! William nods decisively, mind settled. “ Anything in particular you want? It’s on me. ”

Well. It’s on the business. But it sounds more generous this way.

@slaughterlocked asked: “What do you think would be the best pizza to order if I’m quite hungie?” [ SORRY HES. IN A SILLY MOOD ? ?? ] // game changer starters

MICHAEL ROLLS HIS EYES— doesn't even bother to try and hide it, which a small part of him worries might earn him a lecture on 'behavior in front of customers,' but this isn't a customer! It's his father, come up to Michael working the job he took up ( it was easiest, to ask for a position, he needs to save up his own money somehow if he wants to get out of here eventually ) to harass him on purpose. Really, it could be worse: the interaction is lacking their usual tensions. It reminds Michael of how he used to be... before everything, actually, which is deeper than he's inclined to venture while still on the clock. But Michael is clearly not in a similar mood.

"I dunno, ask the guy who made the menu." Michael shrugs, idly tapping the cash register and swaying back and forth on his ankles. It's a dead hour, which is likely part of whatever inspired his father to leave his office or workshop and pay a... weird visit. "Wait— no, I've got it, a large pizza from the place across town, actually." Little shit. If he's going to be having leftovers, he'd rather it be something a little different from the shit he's been eating for years!

[sensesdialed]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PETER PARKER WITH AN HOUR TO SPARE

[fearfathered]

@bravevolunteer: can we not do this, please?

abigail starters / accepting

In a rare moment, William is at a bit of a loss for words. Of all the things William expected to find when he got home, it was not Michael with a boy. And sure, William had at points considered the idea of stuff like that, but he had never asked about it. Knew it was just some passing idea, nothing that needed to have anything done about out. Apparently Michael was too impulsive for that.

"Well, uh-" William clicks his tongue, clasping his hands. "I mean, it's..it's not uncommon, for boys your age to consider...it happens with everyone, it will pass."

[trapton]

❛ grasp .   run  to  my  muse  &  jump  into  their  arms . (f .. from l.. little michael🥺😞)

𝚃𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚂 𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴 𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙽 𝙰 𝙵𝙻𝚄𝙸𝙳 𝙴𝚇𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽 of his fingers dropping keys into paisley ceramic, noise of clatter having almost hidden small footsteps tearing down carpeted stairs. epitome of the seventies still alive &. . . . perhaps not well, within the atmosphere of still meager accommodations.

oh but there's always been something off about your smile, hasn't there?

eyes creasing, mouth twists upward in relative excitement as michael turns the corner. it's difficult to explain just how much joy his first child incited into his life. despite the impatience developed in the slight delay in his dream's development, in support of this accidental pregnancy. however, drips of resentment won't begin to truly puddle until he has correct reason to.

gaudy brown shoes poke out from purple slacks as he turns just in time to swoop down, in a widening of orange vest at the chest. hair thrown off-balance by the weight of the little boy in his arms.

william chuckles in his lifting him off the ground, &. tucking him into his chest. hugging him close, as an almost ugly grin stretches across his visage &. facilitates an audible chuckle. taking that moment to acknowledge that pang that only hugging your child can bestow. "heh, heh, heh -- why hello there, michael. i had half a mind to expect you asleep, by this hour." arm tugs to hold more tightly in compensation, as squirming boy retracts slightly. prominent beak lowered to bestow his son with the grin, &. long finger poking &. bending as it presses against his nose. something about his expression flickering into the realm of devious. "fancy that . . ." he speaks, a flick of his head taming hair somewhat. "father missed you, this evening." he muses, fixing michael's lengthening hair. looking even more-so like william, to the point where william secretly hoped it was deliberate.

"what do you say we find some trouble to get up to, seeing as you stayed up to see me?" he pops his brows, wanting to instill excitement in the idea. "i can put on the suit, if you'd like."

the stitched up old spring bonnie he'd made, before henry had came into the picture. wanting to place the preliminary bandaid on he wound of his frequent absence.

🔧 @bravevolunteer

[ripgray-moved]

     𖤐  ⸻  ❛ Running from the past is a losing game. ❜

@bravevolunteer liked for a one-liner!

[offier]

@bravevolunteer wants the twink obliterated

Late at the station, it's just the two of them. Kapinski out, the station is quiet for awhile. There isn't much point in offering Michael the same sort of attention he had given him before. He's no longer talking with Abigail, and no one else would take Michael at his word. So while not outright cruel, he does drop the formalities. Including driving Michael home. Instead, there's an excuse of needing to make sure Michael leaves with a parent. To make Michael have to sit in the discomfort he's sure it will take some time for William to sober up enough to come by. Besides, he has a feeling William won't be happy to have to come out at this hour to pick his son up from the station. And sure, Michael could just walk out, but it'd probably be worse if he did.

But it could have just been that. It was Michael who had to run his mouth. So Joseph moves in front of where Michael's sitting, leaning against a desk. An air of informality despite the situation. "I'm not sure you understand the situation here, Michael. It's a bit trickier now, with your new...reputation." A fairly generous response to Michael's attitude. For now, at least.

[bitgrls]

@bravevolunteer: how much do you trust the institute? (for tim :))

abigail starters / accepting

For a moment, Tim just stares at him. Someone who doesn't know him might see it as him genuinely considering the question. But instead, he starts laughing. It's probably the most he's laughed in...awhile. It sounds strange, harsh. Unnerving. "What, you new here or something?"

[tenfoldrage]

@bravevolunteer gets a plotted thing

The Doctor never expects it when their TARDIS decides to veer off course to the wrong location, but it's getting to the point where it hardly surprises them, either. The ship wheezes away, her center console shooting out sparks as if batting their hands away. They have to leap back from the console, grabbing onto the handrail. These things seem to be happening more often lately, they think, but before they can think on it further, the ship's central piston comes to a halt.

They stare at it warily for a moment, and then their gaze is drawn to the door. The TARDIS makes a bwooop sound at them, like she's urging them to go outside right now. The Doctor crinkles their nose at the old girl before making a dash to the wooden doors and popping their head out.

The sight before them is... not what they were expecting. What first catches their gaze is the contraption staring right at them through a window in what looks to be... some sort of mechanic shop? The second thing to grab their attention is the other contraption that they vaguely recognize to be surgical in nature, and finally the man standing like a deer caught in headlights in front of it.

The situation looks bad, and the Doctor does not like the look of that machine, or the way that mess of parts on the other side of the glass is staring at them. So, they dart forward and grab the stranger by the wrist while putting in a slightly psychic effort to get the guy to pay attention to them. The man's palpable fear drives the Doctor to action without needing to say anything yet, and besides, they're in go-mode, adrenaline pumping through their veins.

The Doctor breaks their contact with the stranger and looks towards the robot before approaching the window. They reach for their sonic screwdriver and fiddles with the settings before pointing it at the robot. High-pitched buzzing and blue light precede sparks flying out of the contraption's neck and it crumpling to the floor- not dead, just deactivated- before the Doctor turns on their heel to look back at the man they've just met with concern. "Sorry about that, now, what the hell did I just drop in on?!"

[slaughterlocked]

"   why   did   you   bring   me   here ?   "

MICHAEL'S QUESTION GOES UNANSWERED AT FIRST. FOR A LONG MINUTE, THE ONLY SOUND IS THE BUZZ OF THE OLD GENERATOR IN THE PIZZERIA, AND THEIR OWN BREATHS IN THE COLD AIR. Still cold for March - momentarily, William wants to scold Michael for not wrapping up better, his jaw tensing like he's ready to lecture . . . before it sets again, and, squaring his shoulders, he lets the feeling dissipate like fog.

If Michael catches a chill, it's his own damn fault. Just another thing for William to fix.

His throat clears, his shoulders settle. This is the most at ease he's felt in a while. There's something about being around tragedy and death that calms a fierce storm in his chest that has been there for as long as he can remember. Not reading too much into why, or how. Before bringing Michael here, William had been kind enough to spruce the place up a little, cleaning dust and mess from tables and setting the room up in the style of a child's birthday party. Ignore the fact his son is too old for a Fazbear party. Ignore the fact he hasn't allowed any of his children to have a Fazbear party since Evan. It's irrelevant. He's here to fix their relationship, anyway.

" Elizabeth is at her friend's. " William's voice comes out softer than it means to, almost friendly. Stalking further into the room, glancing around, he heads for the main stage. Earlier he'd come along, put a radio at the security office. It's warbling out cheery stilted songs now, one that sets William's teeth on edge, but he ignores it in favor of beckoning for Michael to follow. " I wanted to celebrate your birthday, Mike. It's been too long. "

Ignore the rudimentary base of an endoskeleton on stage, staring out at them with unseeing eyes. Ignore the fact this is the site of the accident. William's determined to give his son a birthday he won't forget in a hurry - and just maybe teach him a lesson or two in the process.

[runelocked]

❝ i don't even remember how much i had. ❞ i couldn’t resist LMAO

“ USUALLY THAT’S A GOOD INDICATOR THAT YOU TOOK FAR TOO MUCH, OR THAT YOU’RE A LIGHTWEIGHT. ” William’s usual crisp tone is coloured, for once, by a tinge of amusement. It’s not often he can laugh at his son, but finding him in such a state only a few hours ago had been (at first) bewildering enough and (then) entertaining enough to sit with him through the comedown. “Though I suppose hindsight’s everything. Glad to see you’re back in the land of the living.” He gets to his feet with a grimace, heading for the window to push it open; chastising tone instantly rendered void by the sheer insanity of his following implication: “ Rude, by the way, to smoke by yourself. For all your defects, manners are easy enough. […] It’s frowned upon not to offer to share, you know, Michael. ”

[runeians]

18﹕ sender  comes  to  receiver  after  being  injured . (for henry!)

HENRY EMILY IS A LOT OF THINGS, AND LUCKILY, ONE OF THOSE HAPPENS TO BE FUNCTIONING UNDER PANIC. He doesn't even hesitate before ushering Michael inside: ignore the fact he hasn't seen him in years, ignore the fact he'd long since sworn not to come into contact with anything else of William's - this is a boy that had once been like a son to him, and he's not turning him away in his hour of need. Because something Henry Emily is NOT is good at pretending he doesn't care. " You're bleeding badly, " he says, blunt, gesturing for the young man to sit while he ducks out of the shabby main room, returns clutching a first - aid kit and towels stacked on top of each other, " a hospital might have been better at this than me, son. "

( Doesn't think about the fact he sometimes feels cursed, trying to help those around him. First his daughter, then his wife. He hadn't even tried to save William or the Afton family and he'd still failed. What makes him think he can save Michael here ? )

( Okay, Emily. Henry sucks in a deep breath, crouches down so he's eye - level with the wound. It's just a bit of blood. Don't be over - dramatic. )

He has to wonder what brings Michael back here. To Hurricane, sure ( had he ever even left ? Or, like Henry, had he felt tied, tethered, here ? ) but also to here. Henry's house. When they'd last spoken, it had been . . . A lifetime ago. Several lifetimes ago. Any conversation he'd had after the diner tragedy had blurred and bled in his mind into one indistinguishable mess, and when he thinks back, he can't quite remember his parting words to Michael. In any case: why has the only remaining Afton boy turned to here, him, now ?

Anxiety stirs like a loose tooth in his chest. But it's not what he has to focus on. There are bigger worries at hand.

" This, " he says, shaking off his own hesitancy, " might hurt a bit. Need to make sure it's clean. Are you with me ? "

Are you with me, following what I'm saying ? Are you with me, coherent, not giving into shock after whatever the hell happened to you ? Are you with me, really back ?

Are you with me ?

[runelocked]

THE MOMENT HIS EYES LAND ON THE TEXTBOOK, he’s rolling them so hard he sees stars. Pulling the pages closer to him, tutting at his son’s sheer foolishness, he tries at first to peel back the information on the page […] like Michael had stuck the lies about the moon over the truth. “Really, Michael. If you invested as much time into your studies and help around the house as you did with making this ridiculous book, I’d be impressed.” How long had it taken him to design this . . . ? Because of course that’s the only logical explanation. There’s no way he missed someone landing on the moon. It’s ludicrous.

💬 + rumor has it you believe in a “moon” “landing” ..

send 💬 + a rumor and my muse will react to it.

"YEAH, 'CAUSE IT HAPPENED." Michael has had plenty of conversations with his father that make him feel like he's losing his mind, but this one is driving him especially insane. It's not long after his father brutally shuts him down that he grabs the god damn textbook he hasn't cracked open all year, flipping through the unused pages until he lands on exactly that. Pettily, he slides it with the page open across the table. "It's already in textbooks, how the hell'd you miss that?"

[ladyseidr]

@bravevolunteer asked: ❝ Kiss me. (for jeremy, bro can't flirt unless it's blunt as hell smh)  ❞ ( wip fics sentence starters )

"Yeah?" Don't look too eager, Jeremy. The way his eyes lit up suggested a certain surprise, one that would have made a little more sense were he not already leaning farther into Michael's space than necessary. He was doing plenty of flirting himself, for what it was worth. But somehow Michael's words still made his heart pound.

The invitation brought him closer, arms bracketing Michael against the wall as Jeremy's nose bumped against his cheekbone. Michael wasn't getting away without getting teased first. "Guess I can't complain about a straight-to-the-point pretty boy wanting me to make a move." Eyes half-lidded and humor caught in the upturned corners of his lips, his pulse still thrummed when he pressed the first kiss to the corner of Michael's mouth. "Y'know—" the words breathed against Michael's skin, "—you don't even need to ask." A brush of skin to skin, and then he pressed his lips to Michael, no effort made to hide how he melted into it. He had it bad, but it wasn't as if that were a secret. One playful tug at Michael's lower lip with teeth, and he leaned back just enough to joke, "Is now a good time to ask your opinion on the lip ring, or am I fucking up the moment?"