"M'fine."

★ — "M'fine."

Huffed response, clearly annoyed, at the mention of calling someone, his eyes get wide ; a flash of fear he can't quite hide.

"No, don't ——!"

' are you alright? is there anyone i can call for you? ' @braveburned

❛ Conserve your ammo. Goes faster than you think. Especially at target practice. ❜ congrats gregory you got your gun 🎉

THE WALKING DEAD SEASON ONE SENTENCE STARTERS

★ — Before Michael can even finish his introductory warning, the kid is scoffing and rolling his eyes. Off to a great start!

"You're acting like I don't know how to use a gun. Orphan, remember? FEDRA school? They teach us how to do stuff like this, that's the whole point of keeping us around."

Small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, he leans forward onto the rock that Michael's situated them behind for the purpose of target practice. Straight ahead is an empty can of food. Gregory squints to narrow his focus, flicks the safety off, pulls the trigger, and —— fires.

He misses completely.

"Shit. Wait — I can do better than that, hang on!"

[ FORT ]: sender builds a blanket fort for the receiver following a long and difficult day. (let gregory have a normal kid moment!!)

this has been in my inbox for almost an entire year

★ — The living room is torn to pieces when he gets home, and all Gregory can do is stare from the doorway.

It's the last thing he expects ; he hadn't been sent home early from school, but it had been a near thing after a fight had broken out. The teacher who caught the incident had refused to hear Gregory out, and had sent him straight to the front office, where they had .... at least sort of listened, agreeing to talk to the other students that had been verbally harassing him until he had finally gotten fed up. But the office had also insisted on calling his parent— his guardian— to inform them of the situation.

So Gregory knows Michael knows. And he also knows that drawing attention to himself is putting their arrangement at risk. So he's steeled himself for the oncoming lecture, for the disappointment, half - preparing to be yelled at the moment he opens the door. ( all his foster parents would yell, they'd never listen ). But that doesn't come.

Instead, the living room is in shambles — and for a split second Gregory wonders if he'd made Michael that mad. It's too structured to be that, though, and that makes it all the more confusing.

He sees Michael poke his head out from underneath the cushions and blankets, obviously having heard the door open. Gregory's brows furrow. There's an invitation to come closer, but Gregory doesn't move from his place in the wide open doorway.

( he's still not entirely sure if he should bolt or not ).

"What'd you do?"

there’s nothing reassuring about what you just said.

this has DEFINITELY been in my inbox for like a year

★ — Nose scrunches up in obvious distaste ; Gregory shies a little closer to Freddy, tucking himself just close enough to his leg that he could dart behind the animatronic should he feel the need to. If the bear notices, he doesn't comment — likely for the better.

"What? All I said is Freddy's been helping me. He's not like the other animatronics — obviously, cause he's standing right here and not doing anything."

Freddy seems to shift uncomfortably at this comment. Gregory lets his eyes flicker back towards him, but doesn't acknowledge it more than that.

"The others can't see me when I'm in his stomach hatch— I know it's for cake, but I fit, and there's nowhere else for me to hide! It's how I hid from the security guard the first time! And we're careful about not using too much power!"

Michael doesn’t exactly how to approach this. He knows Gregory’s birthday, he needed it for their… not-so-legitimate legal documents, but he has largely no idea how Gregory feels about it ( based on the fact that the kid hasn’t brought it up beyond that, though, he can guess ). Michael’s history with birthdays doesn’t help in the slightest. Still, he refuses to ignore it, and had luckily paid some attention where Gregory wouldn’t: he’ll return home from school to a couple gifts: two of which are toys he remembers catching Gregory’s eyes lingering on, and the other a thrifted GameCube that came with a handful of classics. “Wasn’t about to let you get off scot-free on your birthday, sorry.” He comments with a small smile. “There’s a bit of cake in the fridge, which might be branded, but I did get it for free.” Aka he stole a Fazbear cake. 

★ — It's not that Gregory had forgotten about his birthday. He'd known the date was approaching with some sort of awareness, but had planned to let it come and go like any other. It's been years since anyone had pretended the date was special for his sake — lucky if a foster family would even offer him a passing ' happy birthday ' throughout the day, and ( unfair as it might have been ) ..... he'd honestly expected the same from Michael.

He hadn't expected him to remember ; didn't think it would strike his memory as something worth keeping track of.

Which is why he's so surprised when he walks home to presents, and glances up as his guardian to see that small smile. Eyes go wide, flickering back towards the toys, and to the fridge when it's mentioned.

"Oh,"

He can feel his cheeks flushing, chest and throat feeling tight, and it's —— embarrassing. He shouldn't feel this excited about his birthday being not only acknowledged, but celebrated by his ( favorite, definitely his favorite of all time ) guardian, but he is, teeth sinking into his lower lip to try and bite back the little smile tugging at them. He's decidedly not looking at Michael as he drops his backpack and steps in to take a closer look at the gifts, eyes sparking with light.

It's when he gets to the GameCube that he finally looks back at Michael, slight tilt to his head.

"What's this?"

WHAT'S CHILDHOOD LIKE? IT'S A LITTLE LIKE DYING, A LITTLE LIKE BEING BORN. WHICH IS TO SAY, IT'S NOTHING YOU CAN REMEMBER, BUT YOU KNOW THERE WAS BLOOD.

independent gregory of five nights at freddy's: security breach. canon divergent and heavily headcanon based. as adored by lune. ©