#f; hazardess

[bitterborne]

❝ you deserve so much more than what you were given. ❞ from @hazardes !!

THE MAIN STAGE IS EMPTY, FOR ONCE, THE ANIMATRONICS OTHERWISE OCCUPIED. Michael — Mike, he tells himself firmly, though it’s hard to shed his father’s strict dislike for nicknames — chooses the corner to sit anyway, broad back pressed against the thin wall and knees brought up to his chest. It feels a little more bearable like this, everything that’s happened, though the sight of the empty pizzeria while NOT being in the security office is still incredibly unsettling. Not for the first time, he wonders how Vanessa copes with it: and then is instantly reminded that they’ve been in the exact same position. Though his father doesn’t often let him in the pizzeria past closing time unless it’s to keep watch, which he always does from that same office. The sight of the half empty drink can and the faded, festering posters are more familiar and comforting than anything he’s seen here in this timeline […] though the knowledge that the oldest Afton child cannot escape their father in any universe is disheartening.

“I dunno,” he says, evasive, and focuses on twisting the cheap metal ring around his middle finger, unable to look at Vanessa, “I’ve done— I’ve done a lotta bad things. Sure, life was shit, but—”

But he loved me, at least. I don’t know if your father loves you.

It’s complicated. Mike’s eyes burn with it all, though later he’ll blame the stage lights. He’d never believed his father loved him until he’d arrived here, in this timeline where so much is different but so much is the same — no Charlie, but a missing Garrett. No Michael . . . But Vanessa instead. He doesn’t quite know what to make of it all, and sure, things had been awful, but had they been this bad?

In fairness, maybe this is what other people see when they look at him. Isn’t it always easier to see the flaws in someone else’s relationship than see the flaws in your own? Headache forming, one hand lifting to rub insistently at his forehead and sweep away the thoughts and dark floppy hair he hasn’t managed to make presentable in years, Mike continues:

“I got out.” Mostly, anyway. Though his father asks and Mike still comes crawling, switching from thirty-three to thirteen again in an instant at the sound of his father’s orders. When he meets her eyes, there’s an earnest kindness, a world-weariness beyond his years— “You’re still stuck cleaning up after him. You don’t deserve that. When was the last time he even thanked you, huh?”

#(( best found family dynamic :’) he’s already decided that he’s her older brother btw like he’s going full mother hen over her agskdh )) #( V5 ) — TIMELINE HAZARD. #(( new specific verse unlocked :3 )) #tw dysfunctional family #tw trauma #tw bad parents #tw unhealthy relationship #(i recognise myself in every inch of your guilt): vanessa s. & michael a. #(( i made him a timeline traveller to the movie verse !! i hope that made sense & is okay :] )) #f; hazardess #(( cries so hard at these two already ))

[bitterborne]

HE THANKS ME. HE’S GRATEFUL. ROLL OVER, PLAY DEAD. FOR GOD’S SAKE, MAKE YOURSELF USEFUL, BOY. Michael doesn’t let himself outwardly react to her words, but even the way she says them is oily, brimming with discomfort: like she’s the doll, coming to self-awareness; like she’s the doll her father practices his humanity in front of. “Right,” he says, his own voice laden with wooden sarcasm, “‘cause being grateful is something any decent, thankful person has to practice to their kids. He sounds . . . Really sounds like he’s gunning for Dad Of The Year, Ness.”

Had his father ever done anything like that for him? Mike’s never thought about it much: other than the clothes on his back and the money in his pocket and the blood on his hands every single thing he owned had been William’s. At least until he’d run after Jeremy, got himself a new job, a new apartment, a new life. But his father had a way of becoming every shadow in his house and every rainstorm he found himself under: looming larger than reality even in a room so full of life. Even here, in a whole fucking other timeline, Michael feels his hands pressing down on his shoulders; steadying, suffocating. Easy, the spectre would whisper, down, boy.

Vanessa’s father is here too: not literally, thank god (he doesn’t think he’s here, anyway?) but in the air, their words, the silences between them. In how quickly she covers the raw, exposed wounds he’s left her with (“I’m fine”) and jumps back to him (“We’re talking about you”). He tries for a grin in her direction, knowing and sad and reassuring all at once, but allows the subject switch. Well. Mostly.

“God, I feel like I’m being interrogated,” he tells her, a layer of amusement in his voice, “uh, well, I’m . . . considering everything, I could be worse, right ? Dimension travelling, or — Whatever this is, isn’t exactly my usual Thursday night. I think I’m keeping it together pretty nicely, actually.”

He sobers. Turns his gaze back to his hands. Try as he might he can’t unsee the blood. Wonders if she feels the same . . . if she lies awake at night haunted by the things she’d done as a younger person. The things she’ll still do.

“ I don’t know. All of this is so weird. I think I’m, like, weirdly homesick? — Freddy’s isn’t standing any more in my world. I didn’t think I’d miss it so much, but, being back here . . . It’s not like there are any fond memories in here, but it’s where I grew up. You get me ? ”

CONTINUED. / @hazardess <3 !

#(( them ….. hey at least they have each other ! For Now [ ominous threat ] )) #( V5 ) — TIMELINE HAZARD. #f; hazardess #tw blood #tw trauma #tw dysfunctional family #(i recognise myself in every inch of your guilt): vanessa s. & michael a. #tw guilt