#trapton

[bravevolunteer-a]

@trapton // cont from here bc i had this response in mind for TOO long

THE SOUND OF THE SLAMMING DOOR is loud enough to shake the house— just barely seconds after it crashes into place, Michael is already down small steps of the porch and taking off towards the driveway. His heart pounds, an unbalanced drumming in his chest, screaming to GET AWAY as fast as he possibly can. His insides still feel pulled taut, despite the needed emotional release of tearing open the door only to SLAM it closed with enough force to shock even the both of them, who have become as familiar with this particular song and dance as they did the performances at the restaurant. The catharsis of a short moment is quickly leveled against looming consequences, catching up to him with the sound of his father's anger in each step.

— ' MICHAEL WILLIAM AFTON ' echoes in the air, across the front yard and down the road and through the whole damn TOWN seeping with so much blood: it's a bone-chilling reminder, not even because of the clear threat ( he is far, far too used to that ) but in how even his name leaves him tied, renders this 'little attempt' pointless. Escape will never work.

"OR YOU'LL WHAT?!" He screams back before he can hold his tongue, focus successfully ripped from leaving as fast as possible to projecting his voice as loud as his father yelled his name. William's may have lowered, but Michael intends for the entire street to hear if they could ( he fails to realize it looks unwarranted that way, like rebellion, when it's really just a PLEA: why won't anyone just fucking listen to him? ). "WHAT'S coming to me, huh?! Fucking say it! TELL THE WHOLE GODDAMN TOWN— 'cause nothing's gonna stop them from shutting up and throwing you their mone-"

Stopping was where he messed up. He turned to leave again mid-screaming match, but it gave just enough leeway for his father to cut him off. Air briefly knocked out of his lungs, he doesn't have a moment to catch it before a sting shoots up his back from the side of the car. His breath catches in a strangled exhale, but he still scoffs at the finger held up to his face ( another testament to how unsurprised he is ). "Why? All I do for you is fuck up anyway, right? You wanna FIX our shit?" Attempt to wrangle himself out."You should be glad I want nothing to do with you, 'cause it's too late."

[ladyseidr]

@trapton asked: ❝ i knew you wouldn't stay with me. / henry ❞ ( the sex was good until it wasn't. )

"What the hell do you expect me to do, Will?" His volume wasn't held back, regardless of the scene of this squabble—the parts and service room, not all too long after closing. Henry wasn't one to reach this level of visible stress. He had kept out of the public eye, but spent very little time behind his desk. Instead, he had kept his hands and mind busy, an attempt made in vain to direct his nerves toward broken arcade machines and failing parts rather than his life. It had taken frighteningly little questioning on Will's part to get an answer, particularly regarding Henry's insistence on leaving the moment the workday was over. . . His long hours overtime with his business partner weren't going unnoticed. While she hadn't implicated Will—and thank god for that, if only for Henry's sake—his wife had made one thing perfectly clear: SHE KNEW. ( Probably thought Henry was leaving work and spending late nights with some mysterious woman. As bad as it was, it wasn't as dangerous as the truth. )

"It's over. I'm not imploding my life for you." It shouldn't have left him feeling so mixed, stomach heavy with the grief of ending something he should have never gotten involved with and the shame of knowing he would never really end it. This was all, in some way, for show. Proving to himself that he felt some level of guilt before he inevitably let Will pull him right back in. And then he would go home and lie right to his wife's face, and play saint just to top it off. I would never do something like that—the kind of claim he would have made sincerely in the past. "I don't know what you expect from me. To end up like you?" He slammed his hand to the table, frustration finally beginning to burn down into pure exhaustion. He leaned down on both palms over the table, glasses slipped low on his nose. All this upset, and all he could wonder: was he really feeling guilty, or was he just never ready to face the consequences of his own actions?

[feardrummed]

@trapton: “Who have you been talking to?” / will

emotional manipulation starters / accepting

Her eyes widen a bit, immediately taken off guard by the question. She'd been on the phone, yes but...how had he figured that out? She was off the phone by the time he'd entered the kitchen, she'd been quiet, and she thought he'd been working. Had he been lingering out outside, listening? She certainly wouldn't guess the reality of how much he watches them in the house, even if she often has the feeling he knows everything that happens at home.

"I was just talking to myself." Of course, he didn't need her initial reaction to know that was a lie. Surely he couldn't have actually known she'd been on the phone, right? He couldn't have been listening that closely, or watching, right?

She ends up moving behind the island, as if that will somehow shield her from her father's questions.

[behindslaughter]

BIG TROUBLE'S GONNA FOLLOW YOU 😈

I put too much effort into this LOL We all know Michael is trying to protect Helpy from the William Duo @trapton

[nineliabilityrisk]

you know i’m in love with you, right? HENRY

" you know i'm in love with you , right ? "

[[ oh dear god. okay. here we go (/pos) this was probably not the direction you were expecting it to go but i uh. my brain. it took it and ran ]]

-- [ asked by @trapton ] --

The words froze Henry in place, swirling emotions in his mind coming to a screeching halt before roaring back to life tenfold.

He and William had been arguing for the better part of an hour — over what, Henry couldn't tell you. Mainly because there was no real 'what'. Henry'd just been shut in his office working himself to death for the past sixteen hours because he didn't want to go back home to an empty house and William had found him sobbing at his desk and it had just escalated from there.

He didn't want to fight — didn't have the energy to, what with the lack of sleep and the pounding headache and the gaping hole in his chest — but William had just kept on pushing. Asking him why he was still there. Why he stank of alcohol and sweat and why he looked like he hadn't slept in a week. Threatening to forcefully remove him from the premises if he didn't go home willingly.

Henry had thought he would understand, at least a little, having lost a child of his own, but he just didn't seem to get why Henry was so reluctant to return home. Why he didn't want to step back into that big family house that used to be home to him and Charlie and her mother.

It was so quiet there, now. It threatened to drive him mad. There was a reason he wasn't exactly eager to go rushing back. Not when the photos of all three of them still decorated the walls, the mantle. Not when he still couldn't bear to face them long enough to take them down.

The part that William hadn't seemed to get about all of this was the isolation Henry faced. They'd both lost their children, yes, there was no denying that. He knew good and well that William had loved his youngest like an extension of his own body. But he hadn't been left alone to grieve. To wallow in his misery. When he wasn't with Henry at work, he had his wife and remaining kids to return home to. Even if they were in no state to provide comfort, they were still there. He had the sound of family life continuing on in the background to chase away some of the grief. The guilt.

Henry, on the other hand, was the single father of an only child. Charlie was all he had. No close relatives, siblings, cousins — Hell, his reclusivity meant he hadn't even had any friends to turn to besides William.

William Afton, the only person Henry had left in his life. The one who, unbeknownst to him, had orchestrated events for years to guide him to this conclusion. The sole reason he was so reluctant to leave the building — the knowledge that William was still here, somewhere, had been the slightest bit soothing, had been enough to keep Henry from diving too deep into that part of his mind that kept telling him it was his fault. That Charlie would still be alive if he had just been there. If he wasn't always so preoccupied with work. If he'd just spent more time with her, like she'd asked him to.

... The man who wouldn't stop fucking fussing over him. Okay, maybe Henry had snapped at him. So unlike him, he knew that, he knew he would regret every single word coming out of his mouth later, but he was tired and hurting and he'd had enough of William's prying words. Of his insistence upon taking care of him. He didn't want to be taken care of. He wanted to stay shut in his office and drink himself into a stupor and pass out on his desk and wake up the next day and do it all over again until maybe he forgot why everything hurt so much, and William wasn't letting him do that.

"Why do you care so much?" he'd snapped, voice as firm as it could possibly be despite his tears. "I'm a fucking wreck, William. I just lost my fucking kid. She's dead. Because I wasn't there to watch her. 'S my fucking fault. What– what do you care about how I cope with it? 'S not like you were any better." A low blow, he knew that, knew Will didn't deserve it, but he was too far gone to filter himself. "What stake could you possibly have in this? Why won't you just leave me alone?" Because that's all I ever am these days. Alone. Don't leave me alone, I don't want you to leave me alone — just don't make me leave. I can't leave. Can't go home. I need to be here. With you.

Words gone unsaid — at least he hoped they had. The look William gave him after his outburst, though... Was it pity? Concern? Judgement? He feared he'd said more than he should have, until–

"You know I'm in love with you, right?"

Henry's intoxicated brain couldn't decide if he wanted to kiss the man or punch him in the face. What the fuck was he supposed to do with that? Like, genuinely. Because, well, there was the answer to his question, but ... "That was the worst timing you've ever had for anything in the entire time I've known you. Don't even–" he held up a hand to silence William, the other coming to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Fuck, his head hurt too much for this– "no, no, hush. No. You've actually got to be kidding me. You're an asshole, William. You don't get to use that as — as leverage, or whatever. Not right now. Genuinely, what the fuck is wrong with you."

Despite his words ... that was something he'd been waiting to hear from William for God knows how long now. The shock had been enough to knock the fight out of him, and now he just felt... Lost. Why wasn't he listening to Will? If Will ... he couldn't even think it, but if he actually cared like that, seeing Henry like this must've been tearing him to shreds. Resisting, refusing his care... He wasn't only hurting himself. He hadn't even been considering the other side of this situation.

"I'm... Sorry. About all this," he eventually muttered, dipping his head. "And we'll... Talk about that. Later. When I'm not... Like this. But I — I still can't go home. You can't make me. I can't be alone right now, Will." It wasn't an outright request — he wasn't bold enough to make one, not when he wasn't even sure what he wanted in the first place — but he hoped William would pick up on it. He needed ... something. Needed Will to stay with him, no matter what. If it was here, or at home, or wherever the hell, he didn't care. He just didn't feel stable enough to let William out of his sight at the moment.

[silvcrignis]

claude: 💭 + smoking (since u haven't written that one yet lmfao)

{Meme}: 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼 — send 💭 + a topic to receive a headcanon about said topic.{x}

((Breaking this up because there are many things that can be smoked & I need to lore dump while I have the mic because I know the RPC is damn near only truly receptive to horny shit.))

Hard Drugs (like crack): Nah Claude learned to stay anyway from anything that Victor might do after Victor convinced him to do ketamine with him ONCE. Claude has only occasionally referenced this event & never ELABORATED on what happened but I'm assuming it was BAD if it entirely put him off.

Cigars: He's not too chuffed on those, his nose is sensitive & he said if he wanted to put up with something like that in his mouth for a long period of time he would just go suck someone off, he would get more enjoyment out of that. (Jesus Christ...)

Cigarettes: Okay he's... He's kinda WEIRD with these. Typical of most fire elementals he's almost biologically wired to enjoy them. Like that's just a THING for them. Keira smokes them, Devil De Vil does, even Maleficent has times where she requires a ciggy. But Claude's smoking pattern is so BIZARRE he could go for like 8 months without THINKING about wanting one & then the smallest inconvenience sets him off & this man will be outside 85% of the time chain smoking like he's a 41 y/o childless divorcee in a CASINO & then just stops after like 2 weeks.

Marijuana: Call this man Shaggy & Scooby because. Claude. Frollo. Loves. Getting. BAKED. He is a 4/20 fiend. There is SO much fucking weed paraphernalia in that fuckin castle of his, you can open just about ANY clothes free drawer & find some GOOD shit be it ACTUAL weed or edibles. This man once hotboxed a bunch of teens on a roadtrip during a death tournament to make them less irritating. Honestly I'm impressed his ENTIRE home doesn't smell like a fuckin dispensary.

[fogged-up]

❛ i’ve been thinking about you all day. ❜ vanessa!

Things had...changed. Ever since she had killed Francis, Vanessa felt strange, and the dynamic between her and those around her had shifted. Generally speaking she was almost afraid of other people, jumping at small sound - a guilty mind is a restless one. But the most confusing change by far came from how William interacted with her. He was closer to her, talked to her more. She didn't mind - it took her mind off of her worries. Murdering someone on the job wasn't what she had expected from a job at a kid's pizza joint, but her boss being a flirt wasn't too far-fetched. She'd taken the late shift for tonight, the only other person working had to call out sick, and it wasn't as if she'd enjoy being stuck in her dorm room with little more than her thoughts to accompany her. Closing was always somewhat difficult, not physically - she was more than capable. But seeing the pizzeria empty out with little more than empty boxes and discarded wrappers to signify that there had even been costumers was always so weirdly existential. But maybe she was thinking too much.

As Vanessa was emptying out the cash register up front, she could hear someone walking up behind her. William was helping her close, she expected him to merely ask her for help with something - only to be met with the feeling of arms around her, a hushed whisper carried on warm breath. And she was caught at a cross-road. This was a married man, a murderer as well - but that was common ground between them now. Only a whore would take a married man home, that's what she'd heard her mother mutter whenever rumors flew of a neighbor's infidelity, and Vanessa was raised to be anything but. Then again, she wouldn't be taking him home, and she was a murderer - what murderer would hold onto a moral code wrapped in "christian values" and fool's gold?

Idly, she'd set the half-crumpled bills back into the drawer, before moving to rest her hands over his. "Must have been a light shift, then." Her voice was low, a note of amusement creeping into her tone.

[roseguided-arch]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 isn’t something that clara, who now is called by the name ballora, could fully process in her own mind. one moment it was dark & the second her new eyes, made it metal & glowing purple, peel themselves open to find herself looking at someone she hardly recognized. it had been hard, near the end, but this ? was this always his plan or just something that happened ? at least, as this new form, she has all the time to ask—to get answers to everything. they are the same now.

@trapton said, * WRAPPED #50 - CAN’T CATCH ME BY OLIVIA RODRIGO

mechanical fingers flex outward before curling in on themselves, resting against the curve of the ballerina skirt. thinking about it, she can remember all the time william, is that still his name now ?, put into its constriction. like all the others. like circus baby. ❛ you thought it would wash away . . ❜ says ballora, ❛ the bitter taste of my fury, all the messes you made. ❜ by the tone the animatronic uses, she isn’t in good spirits. angry sounding. ❛ you thought you got away, but now look at you. at me. ❜