Like Real People Do

Like Real People Do

" THERE'S STILL TIME TO CHANGE YOUR MIND. " Mike knows his words are useless. Wants to tug his baseball cap down over his face, casting it in shadow like usual, because being so damn exposed like this makes his skin ( what's left of it ) crawl — but this is more important than his self - image. For Vanessa he bares his face whole, displays just exactly what working for his father has done for him. Purple, bruised flesh all over; scars tracking in every direction; perpetual hell, never allowed to die. Pauses in his pacing to turn to her, gaze serious, heated - " When he throws you aside - and he will - this is what you'll end up like. Trust me. " If he can convince her to abandon the glitch; step away from her duties, hell, sabotage them, burn the Pizzaplex to the ground, even . . . Then he'll consider his work half - done. Leave his father to rot without his helper. " Don't let him fuck up the rest of your life, too. " Come on, Vanessa. You're cleverer than this.

@muutos LIKED FOR A STARTER ! — VERSE 6 / VANESSA.

RAAAAAH IT’S TOONA’S BLORBOS TIME !!! @toonamayo

Spoke too soon

SEEING  HER  FACE  FALTER  IS  LIKE  WATCHING  HER  SIGN  HER  OWN  DEATH  SENTENCE.  It  takes  everything  in  him  to  keep  his  own  expression  composed;  verging  on  kind  ( hah )  as  he  asks  questions  he’s  scared  he  might  already  know  the  answers  to.  She’s  the  nest,  he’s  the  exterminator;  a  boy  obeying  orders  because  it’s  all  he  knows,  from  a  man  who  knows he is  all  his son  has  left.  

In  a  way,  he  supposes,  Charlotte  Sheppard  is  the  same.  She  is  the  only  person  that  those  children  have  left  too.  

And  she  wears  it  openly.  Doesn’t  shield  the  contortion  of  her  features,  deflects  with  a  smile  Michael  has  been  trained  to  see  through.  He  knows  about  power,  and  he  knows  about  fear,  and  he  knows  about  keeping  secrets  –  and  when  she  heads  for  further  away,  his  heart  sinks  lower  than  he  thought  possible,  because  he  thinks  he  might  be  able  to  read  every  damn  secret  she’s  ever  tried  to  keep;  especially  this  one,  as  it  spills  out  of  her,  pools  on  the  ground  like  a  lonely  saint’s  blood.  She is  the  surveyor  of  his  father’s  empire,  collecting  those  discarded  and  deathly,  and  Michael  is  going  to  have  to  kill  her  the  moment  she  goes  too  far.

He’s  frightened  she  may  have  already  passed  that  point.  The  threshold  of  no  return.  Can  anyone  who  discovers  the  truth  really  find  peace  again ?  He  wishes  there  was  an  easy  answer  to  that.  To  anything.  

From  where  he  stands,  his  hands  curl  into  helpless  fists  at  his  sides.

“ Talk  about  ominous, ”  he  bounces  off  her  response  as  quick - wittedly and as obliviously  as  possible,  crossing  the  room  towards  her  in  three  large  strides.  Boots  rub  uncomfortably,  shirt  not  quite  fitting  right.  It  had  belonged  to  his  father  when  he’d  played  the  night  guard,  and  now  that  it’s  Michael’s  turn  to  take  up  the  mantel,  he  finds  himself  wanting,  unable  to  fill  the  expectations  and  trying  to  drag  Charlotte  out  of  the  crossfire  too.  “ This  place  is  only  spooky  at  night  ‘cause  it’s  so  empty,  y’know.  You  worked  day - shift  before,  right ? ”  Really  hopes  she’d  told  him  that,  rather  than  something  he’d  picked  up  from  his  father.  Slip - ups  are  inevitable,  but  the  haunting  flash  of  distress  on  her  face  is  a  phantom  is  Michael’s  own  mind,  and  he  wants  to  avoid  drawing  any  kind  of  suspicion  to  himself  while  she’s  rattled.  “ Look,  don’t  let  the  ghost  stories  scare  you  too  much.  The  most  evil  thing  in  here  is  the  pay . . .  And  the  cupcake  toy.  That  thing  gives  me  the  creeps. ”

For  the  first  time  in  a  long  time,  he  feels  out  of  place  in  the  pizzeria.  It’s  become  the  only  place  he’d  been  comfortable,  but  now,  with  Charlotte,  things  are  different.  Less  personal,  less  familiar.  Glancing  uncomfortably  in  the  direction  her  gaze  lingers,  Michael  shivers,  a  cold  breeze  whispering  down  his  spine.  “ . . .  You  know  that,  right ? ”  That  what  you  know  can’t  be  real,  for  your  own  sake  ?

“ are you alright ? you look like you’ve seen a ghost. ”

[ hear me out: i’m throwing my michael @bitterborne at charlotte while he’s helping his dad with remnant collecting & general pizzeria security bc yknow. nothing more fun than trying to play oblivious when charlotte is literally suffocated by the ghosts of his crimes ! !!! ]

halloween-themed starters | always accepting ! | from @bitterborne | “ are you alright ? you look like you’ve seen a ghost. ”

she feels like she's just been electrocuted. there's a buzzing under her skin, like her veins are honeycomb, like she's a nest. carrying around histories not her own, little bodies with tiny hands, memories crawling into all her empty spaces, filling the spaces that she couldn't afford to give. it's not exactly subtle. not a blink-and-you-miss-it sort of moment. not like the shivering silhouette of a small body that was just behind him, that flickered out of existence the moment she focused on it. there, then gone. hearing them is normal, feeling them even, but not SEEING them. doesn't know who it is, what upset them so, why they want to make themselves known in this way in this moment. but she doesn't take it lightly. it all crosses her face. she's never been one to hide things. ( it would've been pretty hard to hide anyways. )

his question is gentle. kind, if anything. she blinks, looks over at him. michael. wears the same costume, daces the same masquerade. the facade of security is well-worn on them both. she doesn't know much about him, doesn't even know if he's illegitimate like she is, but the question almost feels FRIENDLY. he didn't see them, didn't feel them, whatever it was. her answer is immediate. maybe a little too quick. her first instinct is always to deflect, always to hide. if anyone finds out about her, the reason why she's stuck with this godforsaken company for the last five years, it's all over. she sort of side-steps him, fills the moment with movement, a distraction to get him to not look at her face while she clears up the surprise, the fright. " who knows ? maybe i did. " when she smiles, it's a little forced, trying to cover with her signature wry humor. " you know how it goes, with this place. " and that's not quite as amused as the beginning of her sentence, a little dark with her feeling. bitterness. but she's still moving, the confusion, the worry, not quite gone from her demeanor, toward the space where she saw the little one a moment ago. the door on the other end of that space makes a fine excuse for her crossing the threshold.

Was this another excuse to draw @birdie-ghost ’s boys? Maybeeee