ZERO_ONE, A 🧵.

*The laugh he made... the more the conversation passed, the more insulting it came off. How could a guy like this laugh at that kind of question? Laugh at Kel for looking like he needed a "fresh start?" Where did he got off being an asshole like that?* You've never wanted to wear a mask?

͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ TEMPORARY PIN ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏

just wanted to let you know your bars are fricking trash. never pick up a microphone ever again temp pinned .

*There's the slightest moment of hesitation when he extends his hand out to shake it back, thinking... well, he can just stitch himself back together if something goes wrong, anyway.* Heh... *This guy, the important memories comes first, the how-to-survive, the fun banter, but then...*

// also by the way i'm fixating on his giggle. i'm talking about the fnaf4 ones. how it's the same sound effect as nightmare fredbear... i love him /sounding/ like that. like a hyena or other kind of shrill canine

... Hehe- *He let one of his giggles slip out, like a split second needed to pass where he absorbed the question, asked it to himself internally, and found the contrast funny.* No, no... *What was he saying?* Sometimes being something else lets you get into more... advantageous positions, too.

*Mike knew about this kind of phenomenon, to a certain extent. He'd read papers, he'd heard stories. The ways that spirits... cling to things. The way he had somehow... gotten some of that to rub off on himself. What he was looking at... was a frightful, clear incarnation of that power.*

In needing of... fresh starts. *The more he talks, the more he comes off... genial. Like he was a deeply, /deeply/ troubled person, but... he did actually seem like the kind of person to have... friends. People who could rely on him, in a professional capacity. Not a walking bomb, necessarily...*

*A part of Mike saw this coming. The part of him that was able to act without thinking.* ... *They're at a desk together, a place similar to the FNaF2 building, but definitely a recreation. Mike's standing, Ralph's (probably) sitting.* Just looking out for... my fellow man.

*Mike picks up on little things, even if he, definitely, is still stuck much more in his mind than the other one Kel's met. He spoke about his dad, expecting familiarity... the quietness is something he knows the meaning of.* One time, I... used the name of... *A ball of contradictions, he ---

// i want to interact with more mvrp people ..... bbut im nervous...... / wha t if they punch mike and he collapses like a skeleton getting whipped in castlevania

*Maybe this was the perfect kind of meeting. Zombies, ghosts, it's gotta be Halloween every day, in Utah.* ... *Instead of responding to that in turn, he seems to muse over their situation more overarchingly, like the fact they both needed that question asked to them said enough as is.*

If it helps distinguish between us... *A low exhale, it comes off like a growl, unintentionally. It seemed like he gave off mixed signals like that a lot.* Father, um... got me into the prospect of fake names. It is, fun. Being someone else, for a bit... Kellin. I'll remember it.

How it feels being an objectively terrible person and never thinking critically about a single mistake you've ever made and continuing to live on pure animalistic instinct and for that matter not being smart, handsome, especially interesting, having zero redeeming qualities, actively complicit in se

~ 𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘠𝘖𝘕𝘌 𝘔𝘈𝘒𝘌𝘚 𝘔𝘐𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘒𝘌𝘚. 𝘐'𝘝𝘌 𝘏𝘈𝘋 𝘔𝘖𝘙𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘕 𝘔𝘠 𝘚𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘌-- ~ 𝘉𝘜𝘛 𝘐𝘛'𝘚 𝘖𝘒, '𝘊𝘜𝘡 𝘐'𝘔 𝘎𝘖𝘕𝘕𝘈 𝘙𝘌𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙 𝘐𝘛. { Michael Afton from FFPS / FNAF-SL } { #fnafrp #fivenightsatfreddysrp #mvrp }

// boyfriends waiting for me in bed cya all tmrwwww... my names amber it's on my bio but hi :3 excited to introduce mike to yall hehe. he's my weird lil blorbo i hate him and throw him at walls

*And so did he, it seemed. But that might be the least of his problems... Mike has a single staring eye going right through Ralph, and, god, was it painful to be in this position.* *When he thought back to it, this man saved his life. His appearance, here, also could just be a hallucination.*

*Kel was probably under the impression his face was too stiff and welled up in there, rotted, to not make a visual distinction when something would make him smile.* *That was not the case.* ...Thanks. I mean it. *Restraint, there. Like he... probably didn't have a lot of new clothes.*

// i think im so fuckin clever

Voice. Voice--- *His head turns up and to the side, like he thought he was dissuading a sound in his head, trying to flush something out.* ...No way... *And then suddenly, he doesn't seem so abnormal.* You're... the one who worked. The week before...

͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ TEMPORARY PIN ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏

*Mike's fists clench, like he's frustrated, about to whine, not getting to live vicariously through a mirror.* ...I didn't speak to anyone for so long. *He thinks about his friends. They're mostly the same kind of bullies he grew up with, but... are different people.*

*This... act of kindness actually startles him. He... looks at Kel oddly, head turning, but eye-contact not breaking. Mike seemed to make a lot of odd, lurching, rickety movements, just in general. But this... made him even out a bit.* ... I... are you sure? *Things he could say, about if his ---

// i loooove the juxtaposition of mike focusing on the past solely and michael focusing on the future and scope of everything. i like making this character feel like he can become the ps mike who theoretically could be motivated to do any one of the different endings

*It's hard to make out, under all those bandages, but there's a scowl there momentarily, when Michael says he 'sounds' like him. It shouldn't make him too mad, he thinks, by instinct...* "End results" end results, fuck... off. *So bratty. Was this Michael from the past, in a scary costume?*

*Flame. It looks so tiny and pathetic, there, amidst a dark day, even with all this snow still on the ground, getting cleared out by people paid way better than he is, for dealing with this shit.* *When he... when his father says that word. It's not 'brat' that gets him... he could accept what ---

N-No. Heheh... I'm actually... plenty fine. I have a lot of uh... Well, experience... *This was not any where near the same kind of Michael, it was becoming more and more obvious. A weird, scary imitation, it looked like. Scattered, and lost, like he'd never matured at all.*

*Midway through the utterance of that word... family. Mike socks him with the little strength he can conjure in his body. Across the face. Trying to go for a stitch or two.* Don't FUCKING talk about us like that! *Michael... still gets his point and words across. But he... /Mike/. Is shivering.*

*It was /all/ Mike had on him. It was a pitiful kind of thing, too. Translucent, it took hard work to make the flame catch and not break his finger, with how much energy it took.* .. Tch. *Staring down the belly of the beast, was it? Mike felt... like how the kids, had felt.*

*His shoulders are going up. He has this quality to him, this instinctual desire to look bigger, like how bears threaten and get scared. He wasn't /that/ tall, but...* Dad wanted us to do this. Dad told us... *Cutting through all the red tape, just by saying what "HE" was. Mike is... fraught.*

*When he takes a step closer to the doctor, it's, um, sudden.* *It's hard to tell if it's an intentional choice on Mike's part, or... just because he was falling apart.* It, um. Doesn't, always turn out the best. On a... Security Guard's salary. *He slurs the word. Still an ice-breaker.*

// hehe hello everyone. i shouldn't be writing mike *too* jumpy, but... i just have the energy in me, right now. typically he's more gruff or restrained in his intensity, and morbid-jokes. let's call it coffee had to down before the next night shift

You 're out . You're ou t. *Dad. Dad. Dad, there he was. The way he stood was the same, the way he carried himself. The /joy/ he could express.* *The building had just burned down.* *...Michael reaches into his pocket, fetching a lighter, but somewhere, in his head... he's seeking approval.*

/Skin-stealer./ *He seems awful twitchy, looking at his... doppelganger. He throws an exhale out, frustrated.* Damn.... *His arms come out some moments, shaking with frustration. They stop.* She was... meant to go free. You must have... heard how father said it. She... told me I would be okay.

*The bandages threaten to come loose. A startling, terrible sound comes in between breaths, like the gestation of a starving stomach, but welled in his throat. A /disgusting/ change in air temperature.* C. . Charmed. Faces are... hard to hide. And patch up. Correctly....

*Death. Was death speaking? Hard to distinguish.* *He feels all his nerves tense up. The voice makes him want to go fetal, as an impulse, but he's had to... push that down, these past few... year.* S . sSS top. T T alking to mee he-hee e.. *Dirty work do-er. Father's puppet. Lil William Jr.*

*He sort of stretches his neck out in an odd way, with an awful pop, clasping his hands together for a moment.* Higher-ups. Heheheh... *It's a giggle that's, um, exactly like it was, when he was a teenager. The echoey... nightmare-inducing kind.* Every suit is more spineless than /we/ are. Hehe..

Hey, at least you gotta look at only /one/ of our faces. Count your blessings, man.

I ALWAYS COME BACK .

More than enough company, sometimes.

*He's repeatedly leaning back in a worn wooden chair, throwing down a yo-yo.* *He does that for a minute, then leans forward, back stretched in a deep, bad, curve. Arms rested on his knees. Face, obviously, drawn. Among other things.* Damn... I just realized I got here before midnight. Fuck...

// ssobs.... bluesky.... will you let my michael afton muse flourish........

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