Discover Top Posts Tagged with #pit spring bonnie

Dec 7, 2023

In the Eye of the Beholder

I'm posting this here just bc I haven't posted anything in a while, but this isn't anything CoDrelated sorry :(( Basically, I saw the FNaF movie opening weekend and haven't recovered from the FNaF phase revival (not sure I ever recovered from the first one tbh) and when I was yapping at my mom I came up with a dumb theory about Pittrap, and then rewrote the book from his perspective Cross-posted on Ao3

The Yellow Thing did not know what he was.

He had fuzzy memories of being a man, and not this weird bunny thing. He had memories of his face, of building the robots, of a man whose name started with an H, of killing those kids in the backroom. That was the freshest memory in his mind, mostly because that was only the action he had ever taken.

It happened every day. He was locked in this silent prison of a loop, this single day. Of leading the little girl with the bouncing blonde curls who followed him while her tiny hand was engulfed by his, as she asked quiet questions about a dog. Slashing her throat as she looked down into the dark inside of the gray box. Then he cleaned his knife, closed the box, and laid her body against the wall of the party room, her eyes wide open in frozen fear. Then it was time to find the next kid.

The boy stood outside Pirate’s Cove, pouting up at the Out of Order sign. He had a black eye on the right side of his face. He walks behind the bunny silently, eyes on the floor. He scrambles away from the rabbit when he spots the knife, but he’s too short to reach the doorknob without looking.

Then comes the little girl with the black pigtails, who kicks him in the shin and goes to grab a used pizza plate off of a table, but he catches her wrist before she hits him with it. She’s the smallest he kills today. She's the smallest he kills every day.

Next comes the boy who hides under a table in the empty party room when he’s brought there, with his short brown hair and tanned skin. The last kid is the boy in the paper bunny ears. He was the rabbit’s favorite the first time, but he’s learned from then. This boy hits him in the stomach and then the jaw, but he still goes down. They all go down. Now it was time to wait.

The Yellow Rabbit knew there was a reason he was doing it. He had fuzzy memories of big, scary machines. Of some sort of nightmarish out-of-body experience, like all the others. He sees himself through the eyes of the man, full of tears as he begs the one whose name starts with H to bring him a screwdriver.

But now it was time to wait for the day to be over. His ears twitch. No one except the kids that were supposed to see him saw him, and nobody saw those five. They weren’t really there, not the way the other kids were. He steps out of the party room, scanning around the main room. Then he spots it. A movement in the ball pit catches his eye, and a boy with brown hair and big, pouty brown eyes pops up, having sneezed. The Bunny stiffens, holding a breath that never was going to come.

William leans over the table, chatting with Henry as the two watch little Charlotte taking cautious bites of pizza. She was so tiny, the youngest of the kids between the two.

He coos at her as she sits in her dad’s lap, “Is it good?” He asks with a chuckle, and the girl nods. She was always a smart kid. It was almost scary. He reaches out, gently rubbing the back of her head. And then there’s a scream. He looks up and instantly spots it. Micheal and his little posse of teen boys standing around the stage, his other son hanging limply from Fredbear’s mouth. “Henry… get me a screwdriver,” He orders, stepping back.

“What?” Henry asks, turning as he follows William’s form rushing around the table and up to the stage.

“Screwdriver, dangit, a screwdriver!” William responds, never one to cuss in front of the children. He pushes Micheal back, letting the boy in the Bonnie mask catch him. The kids back away, arguing between themselves. William looks around desperately, pulling out his key ring. He spots a man huddling over his own daughter, her black hair and green eyes barely peaking over his shoulder, wide in fear. The two had just moved there, but William had talked to the man a couple of times, even though he was totally blanking on his name. “You, green tie,” He calls, and the man turns. William tosses him the small golden key, which he catches effortlessly. “My office, call the police.” The man nods, taking his daughter with him.

“Daddy?” Elizabeth’s voice is behind him, but he doesn’t hear her. His ears ring over all the sound around him, but he sees the screwdriver come into his sight line. He snaps it up, desperately unscrewing the animatronic bear’s mouth. The jaw comes undone, blood all over everything. William can’t bring himself to be upset about that. Not when his son is in his arms. His blood was all over William’s hands. All over the brown hair, all over his striped shirt, his pouty brown eyes frozen in silent fear as tear stains streak down his cheeks.

The Bunny shakes his head, backing away from the open room. He peaked around the corner, watching as the boy talked to two others.

The Rabbit could swear that the boy sees him when his head flips around every now and again. His brown eyes pierce through him, questioningly. But not like how the other kids did, where they would look through him like glass. This glare was in an attempt to understand what he was doing.

It made the being’s heartache. If it had one, but that was debatable. It didn’t even know its anatomy. It had just remembered his name.

The boy looks so much like the kid he remembered. The Rabbit wasn’t sure if the kid was his son or his son, it wasn’t sure where one began and the other ended, It wasn’t sure how much or how little of him he was, but he had to be him, at least a little. He had his memories, his actions, and his stage persona. It was confusing.

The Bunny looks away for just a moment, just a second, and the boy is gone. He looks around desperately, but there’s no way to find him. Beyond the soft rumble of the balls in the ball pit. The boy had left the way he came, and he may never come back. That thought upsets The Rabbit. He does not want the boy to come back. That thought worries him.

So he tries to forget about the boy. About how much he looks like the kid in that memory - about that memory. He tries to think about how much it hurts when the girl with the black pigtails kicks him, but he just sees the other girl with black pigtails held up by the bright green scrunchies who are carried off to his office by her dad in the green tie.

So instead he tries to focus on the other kids, but the blood on his hands just reminds him of that scene. And so many others.

“Lizzie put your seat belt on,” William tells her, looking up at her through the mirror. The girl seems too busy with her ice cream to focus on her safety. Something ever so common with her. He huffs, turning all the way around to her with a gentle smile on his face. He offers his hand out, “Here, I can hold it for you,” He offers.

She pulls the cone closer to her, eyeing him suspiciously, “Don’t eat any,” She states firmly, eyeing him up. He chuckles, extending his hand more.

“I won’t, I promise,” William replies, taking the cone from her as she tentatively extends it. He watches as she clicks the seat belt back into place, grinning. “Good girl,” He replies, handing the cone back. Vanilla ice cream, plain. She didn’t like toppings on it. It ‘ruined the tasting experience for her’. He didn’t understand, but he didn’t mind. Why would he when he could just make his little girl happy?

She takes it carefully, instantly biting into the top of the soft ice cream. He chuckles again, sliding his hand back to gently touch the back of her head, before pulling away and placing his hands back on the steering wheel. Of, course, as it always is, his pager goes off before he can pull away. He huffs, pulling it out of his back pocket. Elizabeth stops enjoying her ice cream, looking up at him.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” She asks from the back seat. William looks down at the small box in his hand, at the blinking number on the screen.

395248.

“We have to get your brother from the police station,” He replies, tossing the device in his cup holder. His daughter pouts from behind him.

“Again?”

“Again.”

The Bunny leaves the children where they always are, looking around the main room. The bright lights, the happy laughs, and the thrilled screams of children. Nothing like the empty party room in the back where the kids cried and screamed in fear.

Then it happens again, the ball pit moves, and that crown of brown hair pops out. Those same pouty brown eyes shift from side to side before the boys from the day before approach him. He smiles, hopping out of the pit. They play one of the games together for a while, before eating some pizza. The boy stares at The Bunny as The Bunny stares back the whole time, like he wants to mention it but he doesn’t. At least as far as The Bunny knows. It can't hear him over all of the sounds of the Pizzeria.

The boy comes back the next day and the day after that. That fourth day something special happens. Something that has never happened before.

A boy with big, fluffy hair in a polo shirt The Bunny had seen a few times hanging around the boy and another kid - A lanky one with glasses and dark skin, especially around the Skee-ball machines - enters the room just as The Bunny props up the final body. He drops his cup, gasping. “Mike! Mike!” He calls, turning on his heels and scrambling out of the party room.

Mike… Mike…

“Micheal!” William called, stomping down the hall. “Mikey! Lizzie! Anyone?” His heart was racing in his ears as he through his house. He'd found the letter on the front door with her wedding ring tapped to it. She had left, and he was worried his kids had too.

Or maybe he was worried they were still there. That would have meant they were left alone in the house for god knows how long. Sure, Mike was 15, but he wasn't old enough to care for an eight and four-year-old. And William didn't want Micheal alone anyway - he'd already had to buy the kid and him pagers so that the police wouldn't have to call every time he knocked over a trash can. Not that his wife cared, Micheal was her baby boy. No matter how often he harassed their youngest or how many times they had to pay people off to keep him out of Juvie.

Speak of the Devil, his left door swings open. He seems grumpy, rubbing at his eye. But William knows it's a bluff, the kid was up playing his Atari or looking at dirty magazines he’d stolen from a store or something a teenage delinquent would do. Something that was definitely not sleeping at 9:30.

But in that moment William doesn't care. He doesn't care about all the times he had to pull his youngest off the floor because of Micheal’s prank, or having to buy a pager or all the graffiti, or having to install the cameras so he could watch him from work, or Micheal staying up past when he should, or any petty theft, or all the times he fought with his wife on what to do about Micheal’s behavior, all he cares about is his son.

William drops to his knees, “Mikey,” He chokes out, pulling his son in.

“Uhh, Dad, what are you doing?” Micheal asks, tense in the hold.

“Mike, where's your mom?” William asks softly, pulling back to gently rub the very back of Micheal’s head.

“She went to the store like, 40 minutes ago, why?” Micheal responds, cocking a brow. William shakes his head. He's trying so hard not to cry.

“Don't worry about it, Mikey, just…” William sighs. His youngest comes up to him, tugging on his shirt, the small bear plush William made special for him tight in his grasp. William wraps his other son in another hug.

But as his chin rests on top of the boy’s head, being gently brushed against by his fluffy hair, William asks himself how he could possibly break the news to his children. It wasn't every day he had to explain their mother wasn't coming home. Ever again.

“Hey,” He starts, pulling his son into his chest and laying his hand on Micheal’s shoulder. “How about I get Lizzie, and we spend the night together? A big, family sleepover.”

Micheal rolls his eyes, “I’m not a toddler,” He huffs. William just chuckles.

“Well then, more for your brother,” He comments, and Micheal looks up at him with that competitive fire in his eyes. The one that tells William if he just put his energy into something else, he'd be a star football player. Or some other sport, but William always imagines watching his son slam into other players, knocking them down and the ball out of their hands. Perhaps it didn't have to be so dramatic a change.

“Oh, fuck he will!” Micheal replies, starting off down the hall. William didn't like it when Micheal ran in the house, or swore in front of his siblings - or any of the town's kids, for that matter - but it didn't matter tonight. Maybe it wouldn't matter tomorrow night either.

William approached Lizzie, always the heaviest sleeper of his kids - probably because she was the only one asleep, really - gently shaking her awake and posing the offer. Her eyes light up, that piercing green shining despite the lack of light. She may have had his wife’s hair and face shape, but there was no doubt she was William’s daughter. She was probably the most like him, with his smile and tastes. Like vanilla ice cream. Even though he usually opted for sprinkles. Maybe a cherry on top.

He was gonna get her all the vanilla ice cream she could eat tomorrow. But for tonight, he lays in bed with his three children. He tries to keep together when he's asked why and where his wife is, pressing soft kisses into the back of Micheal’s head, the top of his younger son’s, and Elizabeth's forehead.

His son lay on his chest, Elizabeth on his right, and Micheal on his left. Micheal faces away from him.

By the time The Rabbit comes back, he hears police sirens in the distance. Not that he'd ever heard police sirens before, but William had. The Rabbit starts to panic. He had to hide. He had to get out of here. There’s banging and screams in the main rooms, the sound of people slamming on doors. He peeks out from the room, and then he spots it, that brown hair.

The boy. The Rabbit seems to snag his attention and the two stare at each other for a moment. Then The Rabbit tilts its head forward and beckons the boy to follow him.

And the boy does. Like those kids before him, the boy does. But now, the rabbit gets it. Why those kids had to die.

William's shoulders lean forward, his face in his hands and his elbows on the bed next to his son. His boy. He was two hours from home, in a big hospital with his youngest son because the hospital back home couldn't sustain him. It was too small, just a clinic really.

One of the nurses was a young woman, who often struck up brief conversations with William. They range from asking about the son in the bed, to his other kids, to about Henry or his wife. But what intrigued William most was when she would talk at him instead of to him. She told stories about her travels around the world, exploring different cultures. She spoke a lot about various places around the world’s beliefs around life after death.

What always got him to sit up, engaged, his eyes off his son for even the briefest of moments, was when she spoke of this kind of folklore. She spoke about lingering souls, how distress in death is sometimes believed to leave an imprint of the human who had died. She told stories on stories, all of which got him invested.

She brought him a book, after a while. One full of the stories she told, and some she hadn’t. He read it obsessively, eyes scanning each page over and over. It was so detailed, so interesting. She would tell him more, adding fuel to the fire that was starting to burn inside of him. It gave him ideas. Awful ideas, but ideas nonetheless. He looked for other books, other tales like this. But there was never enough research. He’d just have to do it himself.

Remnant, agony. It didn't matter if they were one in the same or not—they were his ticket out of this. They were his son's ticket out of this. He read all he could, asked the nurse all he could, and when there were no more pages to read and she couldn’t answer his questions anymore, he went back to what he did best. He planned. He drew and drew and drew. All kinds of new animatronics. Some of them were variations on old designs, some were entirely new. And he knew what needed to be done when he got home.

He did not cry as he saw his son’s casket lowered to the ground. He merely looked down at the hole, and then at the maillia folder in his hands. And he made one single promise.

“I will put you back together.”

And so it made perfect sense to The Rabbit. Here was the boy, his boy, the one he had killed for! He’d show his son his handiwork, and then they'd hug and go home to get his sister and they'd go for ice cream. And then it would all be okay again.

He’ll be all okay again. His loop had been broken, so obviously his goal was completed.

Life would go back to normal. He would be the man he once was again.

But the boy runs from him when he sees the bodies. The Rabbit can't help but be hurt, he had done this for him.

The Rabbit chases the boy down the hall, watching him disappear under the shiny plastic of the balls. He plunges in, in a desperate attempt to find the boy. And his arms pop up on the other side.

There he finds a man, another man, yelling at his son. Well, that just can't stand. He pulls the man into the pit, leaving him there. He does not know what will happen to the man, but he does not care. He had killed many more for his son, this man is the least of the blood on his hands.

The boy looks up at him in fear as he adjusts his bowtie and brushes off his chest fur. Before the boy can back away too far, he wraps his arm around him. The grin on his face is permanent, but for now, it feels real. Genuine.

He lead his boy out of the building as the man behind the counter speaks in a tired voice, “See you later, guys.” He blinks slowly at the pair as The Bunny waves bye to him.

The Rabbit takes his son outside and puts him in the car, carefully clicking the seat belt around him. Safety first. Then, he walks around the car and gets in the driver's seat, buckling himself in. He locks the door as he starts to adjust the mirrors.

There's a soft, failed click from the locks on the other side of the door before his boy speaks up again. “Wait,” He starts, turning to The Rabbit with wide eyes. “Can you do any of this? Can you even drive a car?”

The Rabbit isn't sure if he can respond, so he doesn't, instead pulling out of the small parking lot and onto the road. The town looks much different than it did before, from his memories. But that was okay. The layout didn't change much. He stops at a red light before the boy speaks again.

“What did you do to my dad?” There's a churn in The Bunny’s arguably existing heart, hearing his son call that man dad. Perhaps he meant stepdad, and his wife remarried. Perhaps he would have to explain his disappearance. It didn't matter. “Where are you taking me?” The boy’s voice is so shakey, it hurts The Bunny more.

It still does not respond. It just keeps driving, mostly on auto-pilot.

“How do you know where I live?” Is a question The Rabbit could answer, if it could speak. Because I live there too, silly, he wants to say, but he won't try. Whatever left him a Rabbit must have made his voice warped, right?

The Bunny pulls in, and gets out of the car, catching his son as he almost tumbles onto the ground and leading him to the door. He pulls the key off his neck, unlocking the door. He gently pushed his son inside by the shoulders, patting them once he was inside. The cat walks out, hissing at him before retreating up the stairs. Funny, he didn't remember having a cat. To be fair, he also didn't remember what his wife looked like or the name of the son he was standing in front of, so it was entirely plausible that the cat had always been there. And maybe he smelled funny.

“You can't do this!” His son starts, tears in his eyes. He was always crying. It hurt William, and it hurt The Rabbit too. “This—this is kidnapping or something! My mom will be home soon, and she'll call the police!” He states, and that makes The Bunny think. Was he in his ex-wife’s house? Had he remarried? Had he done something to upset his son? Perhaps showing him the bodies was too much, he remembered that he hadn't really put the dog’s body in the box—it was just a plush.

He must have been thinking for a while because he’s snapped out of his line of questions by his son sighing. “I'm going to my room now, okay? I’m not trying to escape. I'm just going to my room,” The Rabbit finds the insistence suspicious, but he hears the door slam from upstairs, so it must be true.

Well, onto his next move. He prances over to the kitchen, looking through the freezer before finding a frozen potpie. Chicken. Yum. He follows the instructions on the back, before being startled by the label.

Best by December 2019. 2019? No, that couldn't be possible. It was 1985. The Rabbit turns to the calendar on the fridge. The calendar was turned to December, the Xs marking off the days ending on the 26th. He lifts up the last page, seeing “Calendar of 2019 in bold” text.

It was not 1985.

He decides to look around some more, finding what he presumes is his bedroom. It has a queen-sized bed and a TV in the corner. He lies down, turning the TV on and scrolling through the channels. There are a lot more than he remembered.

…What the fuck is ‘Netflix'?

He's startled out of the show he was very much enjoying when the front door slams open. He runs over, peeking out of the bedroom door. In the doorway stands a woman. His ears shift. He isn't sure if he's caught. Until she drops her bag and runs up to him, cupping his face in her hands.

“Oh, babe, what's wrong? Oswald called me and said you were acting funny,” The Rabbit just turns his head to the side and shrugs his shoulders. She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, before sighing. She chuckles, pressing a kiss into the permanent smile of the mask. “I’ll go talk to him, okay?” She tells him, and he nods, standing there awkwardly. His hand was oddly hovering over her mid-back, and it didn’t move as he watched her walk away. He couldn’t remember the list time he and his wife had kissed. He cocks his head to the side, but eventually slips back into the room to continue his show.

She comes back after a short while, pulling clear protective film over the potpie on the stove, and stuffing it into the fridge. Then, she enters the room with a beer, handing it to The Rabbit, who takes it and holds it awkwardly. He didn't think he could drink.

He looked at her as she got into the bed with him, sighing and rubbing her eyes. She yawns, reaching out for him. He lays back, putting the bottle down.

“I’m worried, babe,” She starts as he leans into her, “Oswald” - Yes, Oswald. That was his son’s name - “Was really, really shaken up,” She continues, rubbing the pad of her thumb into his shoulder in a small shoulder. He pats her back a little awkwardly, and she sighs. “I think it’s just hard for him. To be alone. I mean he’s just been by himself all summer.”

But The Rabbit knows he hadn’t, however, that has to be a secret. A little father-and-son moment that his wife couldn’t be let in on. Considering the fact that he was in 2019, and all.

He spaces out, jolting up the next morning and looking around. He had slept before, in the loop. Get up, go to the pizzeria, stare at the mirror in the employees-only room, lead the kids back and kill them, wait for the day to end, go home, pass out, repeat. This was different, though. He didn’t have to do that anymore. He rises to his feet, the world spinning under him. He shakes his head, the ears flopping ridiculously.

He walks out, back into the kitchen. There is a suspicious lack of plates and seats, with there only being three. He feels like there should be five. Where will Mike and Lizzie sit?

“Uhh… Mom?” His boy, Oswald, sits in the chair, looking up at The Rabbit, slowly putting the food in his hand down.

“What is it, hon?” She was clicking buttons on the coffee maker, eyes narrowed down at the thing.

“Where’s Dad?” He asks, and The Rabbit cocks his head to the side. He was right there! His wife spins on her heels.

“Oswald, your dad is sitting right across from you! If this is some kind of elaborate prank, you can cut it out right now because it has officially stopped being funny!” She scolds him. The Rabbit is glad to be defended, but he doesn’t think it’s right to snap at the kid! He’s probably still shaken up from the night before. And he always had nightmares, as far as memory proceeds, so maybe he’s still shaken from those. Poor kid!

He lowers his hands, then his eyes, then his head, see, the kid didn’t deserve that. “Okay, I understand. I’ll cut it out. I apologize. May I be excused so I can get ready for school?” The Rabbit can’t help but feel bad, poor kid. He’d have to tell his wife it was okay, he really didn’t mind, but he did appreciate her standing up for him.

“Of course,” She speaks sweetly, smiling as Oswald pushes himself back in the chair and rushes off to get ready for school. She sighs, sitting down with the fresh mug of coffee in her hands and taking a slow sip. They sit in silence for a moment, before he leans over and rubs her shoulder. She smiles, leaning over to kiss The Rabbit’s cheek. “You should get ready, too,” She whispers, and he nods, ear twitching.

He rises, walks over to the door, and retrieves the car keys. Oswald turns the corner with his backpack over his shoulders shortly after. He pauses in the middle of his path, staring at The Rabbit.

“Is… uh… dad taking me to school?” He asks, turning back to his Mom, who’s cleaning the dishes. she stops, turning the sink off and turning around with eyes full of concern.

“Doesn’t he always?” She asks, clearly worried. But there was no reason for anyone to worry. He was home now, and he’d argue he was a pretty good driver. “Have a good day, okay?”

Oswald nods, but his head dips. The Bunny gently rests a hand on his back as they walk out to the car, trying to comfort him. The Bunny once more helps him into the car, and then gets in and locks the doors.

It’s a short drive to Westbrook Middle School, and they pass a man whom The Bunny doesn’t recognize jogging on the street, who waves at him. The Bunny nods back, ever so subtly. He didn’t remember the man’s name, but he looked like a Jerry.

“I don’t understand,” Oswald starts, and The Rabbit listens. That was part of his job, wasn’t it? “ Are you real? Is this real? Am I going crazy?” The Rabbit doesn’t respond. It doesn’t know how to. His poor, poor son. He really messed up trying to show him what he’d done, hadn’t he? When they pull up in front of the school, Oswald sighs. The door locks click, letting him step out. He pauses for a moment before he does. “Hey,” He mumbles, the door popping open, “don’t bother picking me up this afternoon. I’ll just catch the bus,” The Rabbit nods, even though it is very much not happy about him taking the bus. It doesn’t want to trust anyone with his son. Not one bit.

Still, it watches him wander off into the school building before pulling out of the parking lot.

The day is long, and he can’t help but fuss about his son. The last time he let his son out of his sight he had to kill five children. It was worth it, though. Nothing could be not worth it to him.

But the door opens, and Oswald walks in as The Bunny lazily drags the vacuum back and forth, over the carpet, hearing the soft crackle of stuff being pulled inside. It makes his ear twitch with each stroke, but he perks up the second his boy walks in the door. Everything is okay again. His boy stares up at him for a beat, before dropping his backpack to the side of the door and retrieving the duster. They do chores silently, The Rabbit bopping his head from side to side as if he were humming a song, but no sound escapes him.

After all of the chores are done, Oswald comes back in from taking out the trash. He walks past The Rabbit to grab his backpack.

“I’m gonna go chill a while before dinner,” Oswald announces, and The Bunny throws him a thumbs up, moving to make them some dinner. He digs through the freezer, pulling out a frozen pizza. He opens the box, following the instructions on the back closely. It takes a while, but he doesn’t mind, plus, it gives Oswald time to hang out. When it’s all done and cooked, he cuts the pizza and pours two glasses of juice. He sets the table, proudly grinning down at it.

He walks away, appearing in the doorway of his son’s room. Oswald looks up at him, twitching slightly at noticing him. The Bunny gestures for him to follow, slipping out of the doorway and down the hall. His son follows closely behind, settling into a seat at the table. The Rabbit sits across from him, watching closely.

Oswald takes a slice of pizza, and The Rabbit follows the action, placing the piece on his plate. Oswald takes slow bites and sips of his punch, careful and calculating. He took a moment, before looking over The Rabbit’s blankly-staring form.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything…. Dad?” Oswald asks, pausing for a moment before saying “Dad”. Still, it causes The Bunny’s ears to perk up in excitement. Dad. Perfect. He couldn’t ask for more. Or, well, he could ask for Elizabeth and Micheal to be here, but maybe Mike was off with his friends. He used to do that sometimes, where he’d spend days or weeks switching between friend’s houses. Sometimes his friends would come home. Not often, the robotic parts embarrassed him, but William was always happy to host. The Rabbit would too. And Elizabeth went to summer camp. And it was summer, right? The end was coming, but it was still summer.

Oswald finishes his punch and slice of pizza, swallowing and wiping the grease off of his face. He stands, taking his plate with him. The Rabbit wants to stop him, tell him that it will do the dishes and he doesn’t have to fuss, but the kid cuts him off by speaking again.

“Thanks for dinner, Dad,” He smiles back at The Rabbit. “I’m going to get a glass of milk and go do my homework now,” And then he slips into the kitchen. The Rabbit blinks, ears twitching. Oswald left the kitchen carefully balancing a bowl, before disappearing into his room.

The Bunny stands, slipping the pizza slice back onto the rest of the pizza and wrapping it up before pouring the glass of punch back into the jug. He hadn’t touched it, anyway. And funds were tight. He could tell, by how the house looked, the food in the freezer, the way the town looked when he drove around, the things he heard when he was out and about.

But The Bunny didn’t fuss too much about it, instead going to the room he shared with his…wife..? Things were so confusing now. Oswald had to be his son! Why else would the loop have broken when he showed up? But then why was he in 2019? Wasn’t he divorced? Wasn’t his son much younger than Oswald? And if he was in 2019, he should be much older.

None of it made sense, but it didn’t need to. Oswald was his responsibility, The Bunny’s youngest son or not. He was going to take care of him, and the house, and the cat he hadn’t seen again since he first showed up. The Rabbit looked up, eyes wide as it spaced out.

William lay on his back, looking up at the roof. He was stupid. So fucking stupid. He had the money to buy a new carton of ice cream. One that wasn’t Vanilla. One that was something she hated, like cookies and cream or cookie dough. Something that she’d turn her nose up at, that she wouldn’t reach for.

But he didn’t. He had just snagged a scoop of ice cream from the freezer and told her no. When had that ever worked? When had telling a kid “don’t do that” and turning away ever resulted in the kid not doing it?

He covers his face with his hands, sitting there for a moment, and sobbing. His shoulders twitch with each sob, sitting up ever-so-slightly. He had to shut it down. He had to put them away, hide them away. He couldn’t look at them anymore. Not knowing she had taken his daughter.

He couldn’t do it now, though. All he could do was cry. Cry and beat himself up over such a stupid slip-up. He used to be a genius. He used to create marvels that entertained children and mystified their parents. He used to be a performer along with a designer. Along with a builder, a creator. He had a family, and a stable mind, and a fun job, and the best business partner anyone could have.

And now he had almost none of it. No wife, he was down two kids, he built death traps and a secret basement, his job was declining, and Henry had been distant since…

William didn’t want to think about Charlie. He didn’t mean it. He really, really didn’t mean it. He just wasn’t paying attention and forgot to switch to reverse. He had pretended he didn’t do it. It was awful, but he could have Henry hate him. It would be too much. For both of them.

It was how he found out his plan would work. He was getting cold feet, looking over his designs. Asking himself how he could do what had been done to himself to another parent. But then he hit Charlie and her puppet had come out. And it must have sucked up all her remnant - or agony or whatever - and he could tell. It shifted around the building more suspiciously. It eyed him and stuck close to Henry, and William swore he saw hurt in its eye when Henry pushed it away.

Henry wanted it powered down. William couldn’t do it. It felt like killing her twice, so he hid… her in the back room. Fredbear’s was being shut down anyway. He stuffed her, and Fredbear, and Spring Bonnie in the back room at Freddy Fazbear’s and told everyone not to touch them.

The Rabbit jumps up at what feels like someone playing tug-of-war with his heart. He looks around, quickly getting out of bed. He searches the house, finding it empty. Oswald, where was Oswald?

There’s another pull. The pizzeria. That was the only thing he could guess. He made it there in no time, finding Oswald trying to pull that man out of the pit. He guesses the man wasn’t dead. Oswald straightens, sensing The Rabbit, but he’s too slow. There were some benefits to being a result of Afton’s murders.

Grabs the kid, in more of a hug than an attack, but still trying to restrict him as much as possible. They were going home. Oswald was grounded. The Rabbit didn’t want to ground him, but the behavior just could not stand. The boy jabbed his elbow into The Bunny’s stomach, causing it to drop him and reel back before stopping itself. It stood for a moment shocked, before it moved again. It had to stop this nonsense. It opened its mouth wide, threateningly. It wasn’t going to hurt him. Just scare him a little. Like how Micheal had straightened right out after the bite. This was different, but close enough. It was the best he could think of. Until the boy’s arm was in his mouth and his teeth were sinking into soft skin. He barely had time to process the fact that he had just bit the kid when he was punched in the nose.

He retreated again, trying to formulate a new plan. Another way to get Oswald home and away from this stupid ballpit and his stupid human dad. Oswald didn’t need a human dad, not when he had The Rabbit.

That was it! The Rabbit crept closer to the form of the man on the bottom of the ball pit, jaw opening wider. If there was no human dad to compete with him, this wouldn’t happen again. Couldn’t happen again. And then Oswald hits him in the side, standing with his arms spread out between the body and the big, yellow monster.

“Leave…” He pants. “My Dad… ALONE!” He yells, before moving all too fast for The Rabbit to catch. He ends up on the beast’s back, hitting his head and clawing at its eyes. It stumbles back, bowing its head in an attempt to get him to stop, before just flinging him off entirely. Until the netting catches his throat, all too high.

The Rabbit tenses, clawing at the netting, desperately looking at Oswald, who just turns away from him to the form of his passed-out dad. It didn’t know it could suffocate, but it seemed to be, as its vision got darker.

William looked at himself in the mirror in the back room of the first-ever Freddy Fazbear’s location, in 1985. It was so hard to get out of this suit by himself, but no one would help him. Not for this reason anyway. He looks over the room. Papers and cups are strewn all over the place from the employees. They took their breaks here, even though they weren’t supposed to. That was no matter to him. Not anymore.

He scans the room further, spotting the empty suit that used to be Fredbear. It was limp, in suit mode, and much more damaged than ever before, stitching loose and the mouth and chest fur stained. He doesn’t dare look at it a moment longer. And in the corner sits The Puppet, eyes an almost green-off-white color, glaring at him. He doesn’t bother with it. She could get as fussy as she would like, but it couldn’t stop him. She couldn’t save them. He glares back, pulling the rabbit head off him.

”You hear that? You can’t!” He shouts, watching as its disproportionately long limbs pull into itself, trying to hide behind the broken arcade machine. “You can’t! And no one else can!” Tears pull at the corners of his eyes, but he wills them not to fall. “They’re dead, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it!” He stomps his foot as he yells. He takes a deep, shaky breath, turning away from the corner with the broken machine that so proudly displayed ‘Fruity Maze’ on its front in big, bright, pink, and orange letters.

He drops the rabbit head to the floor, before moving onto the arms and torso. It was a slow process, but he did it. He resembles it, cleaning off the blood as best he could, before standing and leaving the room, taking a final glance back.

Tomorrow is another day.

#Pit Spring Bonnie #five nights at freddys #fnaf #fnaf books #pittrap #into the pit #fazbear frights #william afton

keysorsomething