FEELING PROFOUNDLY NORMAL RN

FEELING PROFOUNDLY NORMAL RN

very sensitive very aggressive

★ — Gregory feels his stomach begin to churn as the thing moves. It's hard to watch, a combination of both fear and disgust washing over him ; it's like watching one of those horror movies he knows he's far too young to have seen, but would sometimes sneak and watch if someone else in the house were and they didn't notice him lingering. Perhaps this is how all those stupid protagonists felt, when faced with the unholy ; the dread of not knowing weighed against the fear of facing it again.

There's a deep despair sinking into his lungs, one that can't be easily exhaled. With every step forward it takes, Gregory takes one further back — maintaining distance, out of reach, just in case.

The answer ( while sending a chill up Gregory's spine that he can't quite explain ) isn't enough. It doesn't explain. He thinks he's maybe heard it before — in whispers, the kind of urban legend that gets passed around a place with the intention of scaring kids into behaving lest the boogeyman get them. But the boogeyman isn't real, and this is. However much Gregory wishes it wasn't.

"Okay. Springtrap. What're you doing down here?"

He tries again, with furrowed brows and a tremble slipping into his voice that he tries his hardest to keep at bay. The fazerblaster ( kept from that terrible, terrible night ) he brought for protection is held close to his chest, index finger pressed against the trigger. He doesn't know if it'll work against this, but it was better than nothing. ( Michael had let him keep it to protect himself, after all ).

"Are you the reason the animatronics were trying to kill me that night? Freddy said they weren't acting like themselves and I — I believe him. There was something behind that. Why? What did I do?"

Spoken as if he has any authority in this situation, any right to demand answers, any control. As if he weren't entirely alone, his whereabouts unknown to the very people who try to protect him from this.

𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜. awful. horrible. like someone had just flipped a switch, only for his eyes to spark violet. lips peeled against gums. fleshy abomination is a skeletal graveyard, yet far more menacing than he had ever been before. 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚝, 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑. hard, now that his salvage is double. he's difficult to look at in more ways than one. something from a cronenberg film.

code slinks through the ruins of the mall, through any system that remains even somewhat online. through eyes of busted robotics, each vein running through this place thrumming with his essence. 𝚐𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. the amalgamation hadn't been enough to snuff him. rebuilt again from torn shards ripped from pure revenge.

he's seen him. the boy. how curious. 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚍. why would he return? agony of pain, knows it's his fault. on both ends. threadbare body even more textured with dark colored ash. even less muscle and flesh stuck to endoskeleton. 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍. until curiosity got the better of him.

being so close to a child's fear again, is enough to make him giddy. his claws scratching against the wall, as he pauses his heavy and clunky gait. 𝚊 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗. some fluid or another perhaps got into his voice-box. no matter. his wires thrumming with adrenaline and excitement. the former salvage's head tilted dramatically to one side in its twitching.

he regards the boy with a low humming of mechanics. what a loaded question. 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍. voice a low, and gravelly snarl. "i. am. springtrap."

VERY ooc but look I made a lesbian rock at my gfs cafe :)

what do you value the most about living with michael? (see i can be nice)

gee gregory who let you have a zombie dad / father's day asks

★ — For a second, it seems as though he doesn't want to answer. Gaze flickers down, off to the side, focussing on nothing in particular as if somehow looking at nothing will save him from view. Teeth worry at his lower lip, a small sign that his hesitancy to answer isn't from indignation but from nerves. There's an almost imperceptible way in which he makes himself smaller, the shrinking of his shoulders, the way his fingers fidget despite the way he tries to ball them into fists.

It's always been easier to pretend staying with Michael was purely out of convenience — it wasn't like he had anywhere else to go, after all. But that wasn't the whole truth. Gregory's already run away from one home. He wouldn't stay in another if he didn't want to.

"Michael's ..... y'know. He cares, I guess."

A pause, followed by a deep breath. His gaze lifts, shoulders following alongside as if gaining a moment of confidence, but it only lasts for a quick second before it all falls once again.

"And it's not just cause I'm a kid, and he has to care. It's — he never acts like he expects me to be different."

Even when he's being a jerk, lashing out and running away, intentionally making everything difficult, because if Michael is going to give up on him Gregory would rather see it coming than not. Michael never gives up. Michael doesn't hold it against him. Michael doesn't expect Gregory to be anything other than who he is, even during the times when all Gregory seems to be able to do is show him the worst aspects of himself.

".... I've never had someone like that before."

how do you feel about knowing michael is hiding things from you? does a part of you think it’s fair or would you feel much better if he just told you?

gee gregory who let you have a zombie dad / father's day asks

★ — "Why would I think it's fair? It's not."

His answer comes immediately, firm in its tone ; not upset, per - say, but certainly not without an edge. Frown flickers over his expression, and Gregory lets his gaze fall to the ground in stubborn contemplation. How did he feel, knowing the only person he trusted was keeping things from him? It was complicated. Everything was always complicated.

It doesn't take much thought to know whatever Michael is hiding from Gregory is bad. Everything surrounding Fazbear is, everything they try to keep buried under the neon lights, obnoxiously greasy pizza, and shitty novelty merchandise.

"Michael says he's trying to keep me safe by not telling me. I think ..... I think he really believes that. But that doesn't make it fair. And — and I don't think he's right."

A continuous source of tension in their little household, the source of too many arguments to count. Gregory doesn't doubt that Michael wants to keep him safe. He wouldn't have come with him after it was all over if he did, would have run away long ago if he thought for even a moment that Michael was going to usher him into the wolf's maw. ( perhaps bear would be a more accurate analogy ).

But how is he supposed to stay away from the teeth that could destroy when he's walking around blindly? He feels as though he's in a cave that only goes deeper and deeper ; Michael is holding the map, but refuses to let him have even a flame to light his way. What would happen if they were to let go of each other's hands?

The truth of the matter is Gregory is scared. There's no way out, and there's no light at the end of the tunnel. There is only this.

"I wish he'd just tell me. But he doesn't get it."