Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Just the rules for requests!

I will do:

Any of the aforementioned ships (please ask if you have another one! I will most likely say ‘yes’ :) )

Character Sheets (give info you want to be included, they don’t have to relate to any of my headcanons at all! Just say the character, where they’re from, and specific things you want to be added [suggested, but not required: family dynamics, pronouns, oddly specific attributes, et cetera et cetera!])

^ Please state whether you would like it to be broad, specific, oddly specific, or a combination.

Family-focused

Anything Carlos de Vil, Double Trouble, Fundy, Hunter, Luna Lovegood, Moxxie, or Henry Emily -centric. Please. They are my favorites.

Fluff, angst, mild sexual content. Nothing graphic at all, or that would surpass the ‘teen’ rating.

Whump (potentially)

Song fics

Neurodivergent headcanons for the characters

Neopronouns, xenogenders, et cetera et cetera.

Fics can be anywhere from a paragraph to multiple chapters, it’s up to both you and my creativity!

Don’t limit yourself to just one request- I’ll take as many as you have!

Pretty much anything else!

I will not do:

Incest, pedophilia, et cetera et cetera.

Smut

Toxic ships

Li Lonnie/anyone (we stan an aromantic Queen)

Uma or Evie /any boys 

Hunter, Uma, William, et cetera as a gender that is not what I headcanon them as, as they are all trans in my au. Something like demigirl Uma, boyflux Carlos, or agender Jay is okay though. As long as it doesn’t actively conflict with the trans headcanon, it’s fine lol.

^It’s fine if they’re cis, just so long as it isn’t like male Uma or anything.

Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter or William Afton/Mrs. Afton. I’m sorry, it’s personal

And that’s all! Please give me some requests, lol.

Also: I am open to doing fics about character’s trauma, however it is completely circumstantial. I will not type any slurs outside of the f-slur, t-slur, and r-slur. But even then my typing those is rare.

Let me know if you’d like to see my character headcanons!

Chapter Text

Alrighty, soooo- headcanons. These will be going in the order of Descendnats, ToH, She-Ra, Helluva Boss, Gravity Falls, FNaF, and then DSMP.

Please read the notes before continuing

1.

Descendants

Evie:

He/she/mew/heart/they/apple/meow/cat/love/xe (no pronoun preference)

Bigender

Primarily demi-boy or demi-girl

Lesbian

Aro/ace (romance and sex positive)

Tourette’s (tics are blinking, whistling [a not-so-creepy version of the wolf whistle], tongue clicking, “woosh”, ankle rolling, singular nod)

Anxiety

Age regressor (to deal with trauma. Not in a kinky way.)

Bdd

Mal:

She/they

Bi (fem lean)

Demisexual

Autism (Special interests in witchcraft and art)

Grayromantic

Uma:

She/it/they/sea/bubble/any pirate + sea/water neos

Transfem

Lesbian

Harry:

He/they

Boyflux

Pan

AuDHD (Hyperfixations in fairy tales and history, special interests in sailing, sea creatures, and pirates)

Polyam

Gil:

He/him

Gay

Autism (special interests in exploration/adventuring and baking)

Abiomorous

Jay:

He/they

Transneutral

Nonbinary

Bi

Polyam

Carlos:

He/pup/it/xe/they

Gay

Transmasc

Demiromantic

Graysexual

Anxiety

Abiomorous

Ben:

He/him

Gay

Polyam

Audrey:

She/her/prin(cess)/magi/pink/love

Girlflux

Pan

Depression

Jane:

She/they

Poly

Genderfae

Autism (special interests in magic, fairy tales, and dogs [for Carlos])

Bdd

E/d

2.

The Owl House

Hunter:

He/they

Transmasc

Heteroflexible

Autism (special interest in wolves)

Luz:

She/any

Bi(romantic/sexual)

Bigender

ADHD

Amity:

She/they/it

Lesbian

Willow:

She/her +(any plant neos)

Pan

Anxiety

3.

She-Ra

Double Trouble:

They/it

Genderfluid

Gay

The others are up to you, I really don’t have any opinions :)

4.

Helluva Boss

Moxxie:

He/him

Genderfluid

Bi

Abiomorous

Millie:

She/any

Omni

Abiomorous

Blitzø:

He/they/it

Bi

Polyam

5.

Gravity Falls

Dipper:

He/him

Transmasc

Hetero

Mabel:

She/any

Pan

6.

FNaF

Henry Emily:

He/any

Bigender

Intersex

Uranic

Autistic (special interests in robotics and machinery in general)

William Afton:

He/him

Transmasc

Bi

Autistic

7.

Dream SMP

Fundy:

He/it

Transmasc

Wilbur:

He/any

Bigender

Sally:

She/her

Girlflux

Bi

Chapter Text

Gil was bad at understanding dangerous situations.

It wasn’t his fault, of course- it was just sort of a known fact. He was the kind of person to fall for the “hey, kid. You wanna help me with something?” Lie that thieves often spun. And, due to this, Gaston wasn’t a… huge fan of Gil. So Gaston Jr. and Gaston III had to help him out. They weren’t overbearing or anything, but no kid like Gil would survive on the Isle alone. He was a good person.

And that was a shitty thing to be on the Isle.

Gil could hold his own in a fight, they knew that. But he was just a kid. Or- to be specific, he was 16 and the twins were 18. So he was a kid to them.

“Hey! Bros! I’m gonna be out today. Someone promised to help me find food on the barge- Uma shouldn’t have to feed me everyday!”

This proclamation made the twins turn. Hold up. No, nuh-uh, no way.

“No. You’re not doin’ it.” Gaston III hopped up and slung an arm around Gil’s shoulder.

“Besides! I know you’re gettin’ all close with Harry and stuff, so Uma likes you. Take advantage of that, bro!” Gaston Jr. shoved his twin’s arm off of Gil in favor of placing his own there. This started a little battle between the two, which Gil happily laughed about and joined in on.

Sadly, however… the twins weren’t always the best at catching Gil before something could happen.

Gaston loved his kids. That was a simple fact. But he didn’t love when they lost a ‘battle’. Or, in other words, a petty street fight over Jay and Mal’s bullying.

So Gil was lucky that Gaston wasn’t home yet. He burst through the door, covered in bruises and scrapes from the scuffle he had gotten himself into earlier.

“Bro! Are you good!?” Gaston Jr. urged as soon as his little brother entered.

“Yeah! Anyone we need’a beat up?” Gaston III grinned and cracked his knuckles.

“I’d hit them first! Obviously.” Gaston Jr. butt in.

“We’d have to see about that!” Gaston III countered.

In response to the questions, and before a full-blown fight could break out- Gil covered his ears and pushed his chin into his chest. He let himself fall back against a nearby wall, and the fighting stopped immediately. The twins recognized this. It meant Gil was overstimulated; likely nonverbal as well. He was in no shape to answer their questions or put up with their intensity. So, they let him be. It was best to do so in times like this.

As Gil calmed down, he approached the two. They were arm wrestling in the kitchen. When they saw him, they didn’t question it. Just let him sit on the floor and press his neck against the cupboard.

“Mal and Jay.” He stated. “They were hurting the De Vil kid. I didn’t like it. So I tried to stop them. Couldn’t.” Gil whispered. He- along with the twins- were terrified of letting Gaston know they’d lost a fight. Even if he wasn’t there. They knew the consequences.

But, much like they knew the consequences, they knew how to avoid them as well.

Gaston Jr. and Gaston III crouched on either side of their younger brother.

“Tell ya what. You up for some roughhousing? Pops won’t know the difference between the fightin’ bruises and the protecting bruises.” Gaston III grinned.

“And! Me and your brother get to settle our score with Jay later.” Gaston Jr. added.

“He stole a nice find of ours.”

“Real pretty silks. Pops would’a loved them for decoratives.”

“We’ve been looking for more of an excuse to get into a fight with him, anyways.”

“So! Whaddya say?” Gaston Jr. finally finished off their display of twin telepathy,

“About what?” Gil lifted his head, seeming equal parts worried and hopeful.

“A little bit of roughhousin’ before pops is home?” Gaston III answered.

Gil immediately lit up at this suggestion.

“Oh, yeah! C’mon! Last one out there’s, uh…”

“Last one out there has to confess to Dad we lost the silk!” Gaston Jr. shouted. (It was a stupid thing, really- Gaston wouldn’t care. But it was the first thing that came to mind. And their family was more the brawn than the brains, after all.)

“Oh, you’re on!” Gaston III chased his twin out into the streets.

Gil hopped up, a giant grin on his face. They knew just how to make him feel better. And if he wasn’t the luckiest kid on the Isle, then luck be damned for all he cared. Because the Isle was the worst place to raise a kid. But his brothers- of all people- managed to raise him pretty well.

So if that didn’t make him lucky as hell, then he didn’t know what did.

Chapter Text

“We’re engaged, WIll!”

Engaged.

Henry was engaged.

Henry was engaged, and it was to a woman. A spanish woman named Monica de la Cruz who had auburn hair and a perfect complexion and if William could wrap his hands around her fucking throat-

He was only brought out of his thoughts by Henry asking him a question.

“What do you think, Will?”

“About what-?”

“About the baby names! We want to have kids sometime, and we were trying to think of names- So far all we really have is Sammy, if they’re a boy. We were thinking something like Laura if they’re a girl, though. We’re not really sure though, and… oh God, William, what if I’m a bad father-!? Or- or husband!? What if I- I don’t know how to treat kids! What if my kids hate me!? What if-”

“Henry.” William stated firmly. “One thing at a time, okay? You’re not even married yet. Don’t think about kids right now. Think about the immediate future. And if you want my insight; you’d make a great husband. And a great Dad. So don’t beat yourself up, m’kay? C’mon- we’re at Junior’s! Let’s have a couple drinks. You’re so tense.”

“Right. Right- yeah. Good idea.”

“Oh, and Henry?”

“Hm?”

“Charlotte. That’s what you should name the kid if they’re a girl.”

“Charlotte.” Henry mouthed, repeating the name back to himself. “...I like that. Thanks, Will. You’re the best. You know?” A little laugh.

William grinned sheepishly. If there was some way to get rid of that de la Cruz woman- some way to have Henry be his- he’d find it.

And as the drinks went down his thoughts got blurry and his memories were scarce, but he came to in Henry’s house having a heated argument with Monica. Henry was nowhere to be seen.

He snuck a glance at the clock. 10:30 pm. He had been out with Henry for an hour and half, then.

“...You’re just lucky I haven’t killed him yet! If I weren’t pregnant with our kids-” ah, so that’s where Henry’s worries came from “-then I’d have disposed of him a long time ago! I don’t need him! He needs me!” William found himself yelling this at a mirror. Monica was nowhere to be found.

A quick scan of his surroundings told him he was in his house.

“Bastard.” He murmured, before punching the glass of the mirror.

The glass shattered. And so did his vision.

He shook his head violently. He was in his kitchen, knife in hand.

Shit.

He was having an episode.

Hurriedly standing, he abandoned the knife on the ground and walked outside. He needed the air. He needed a break from himself.

Goddamnit, Monica de la Cruz. Goddamnit, world. Goddamnit, Henry Emily. Goddamnit-

William stumbled over a loose rock in the garden and fell flat on his face. With no energy to get up, he continued to curse out… well, everything.

“Fuck Monica” was the concensus that his concious came to. Fuck her. Fuck her and her perfect little life. Fuck her and the fact that Henry actually likes her. Fuck her. Fuck Henry for choosing her. Fuck the world for attacking people like him- people who weren’t satisfied with their birth sex and then not satisfied with the dating options that gave them.

Fuck everything.

And most of all; fuck the fact that he’s only remembering all of this as he plays innocent for the police- interrogating him for the murder of one Monica de la Cruz.

Chapter Text

Science: Evie’s best subject. The teacher- Mr. Deley- hated her, of course, but that didn’t stop her. Well, most of the time. Like right now. Because something to know about Evie is that she has Tourette’s. So, she tics. She can’t control it, and it gets in the way a lot. And it’s something that Mr. Deley can’t stand.

“Evie! If you can’t keep quiet, I’ll have to send you to Fairy Godmother’s office! And that won’t look too good on the college resume, will it?” Mr. Deley warned her. It was stupid, really. What sort of college would care about getting sent to the headmistress’s office one time?

Either way, Evie nodded. Then she nodded again. Then again. Then she blinked weirdly.

“Of course, Mr-” she did the wolf whistle “-Deley.” Evie responded, before clicking her tongue and scrunching her face.

Mr. Deley looked unamused.

“Miss Evelyn Grimhilde, if you cannot resist the urge to disrupt our class then I will be having you go to Fairy Godmother.” He warned once more.

Evie looked down. She was embarrassed. Usually any attention was good attention, but not when everyone was staring at you because you were making a fool of yourself.

Doug looked at her sympathetically. She shot him a sad smile before ticcing again. Mr. Deley’s back was to them, so he didn’t notice this.

BANG

“Oh my Goodness, I’m sorry I’m late, Mr. Deley-” Mal rushed in. Her outfit was much fancier than usual, she had obviously just come from a royal meeting of sorts. Ah, to be a princess…

“It is alright, Mal. Take a seat.” Mr. Deley commanded. He was much less stern with Mal as she was the crown Queen of Auradon. Anyone else, though, straight to detention.

Mal nodded and immediately took a seat on Evie’s right. Not close enough, in Evie’s humble opinion. But then again- Mal was never-

“Woosh…”

Click of the tongue.

Whistle.

“Careful!”

-Close enough. 

Goddammit.

Mr. Deley whipped around, eyes fiery and angry. They were like a spell of eternal shame, honing right in on Evie. And, as if on cue, mew felt that usual bubbling of her organs and the tic going up to the surface and-

“Careful!” Nod. Roll the ankle. Whistle. Do it all over as the tics repeat themselves and she couldn’t stop and if she even tried to it’d feel like she was being torn apart and- and they finally stopped. With the occasional tic, the miniature tic attack subsided. Fuck. Mew needed to get out of class, because mew could feel an actual tic attack bubbling up to the surface-

And Mal was quick to respond. As Mr. Deley opened his mouth to berate mew, Mal hopped up and grabbed Evie by the arm. With a brisk “we’ll be back” from Evie’s girlfriend, they were outside of the classroom and with the rest of the “Core Four” and “Sea Three”. Minus Gil and Carlos.

(Those were the nicknames the boys had stupidly made for their individual little groups.)

Evie was still in the middle of her tic attack. The occasional “fuck” had started spilling out; so it was good they had gotten out of there when they did.

“Do you feel any better?” Mal was the first to really notice.

Evie gave a tentative nod in response.

“Yeah. I’m… I’m feeling better. It’s over. How are you?” She gave a little laugh at her own question.

Mal just nodded. “I’m glad. He has no right to treat you like that…”

Evie shrugged, and Jay started to talk.

“She’s right, Eves. You can’t let some- jackass teacher talk to you like that.” Jay backed Mal up. Ever the people pleaser, Evie fell against Mal’s chest silently. She had no good response or argument.

“...What happened, exactly?” Uma approached them, giving up leaning against the wall. She had only been dragged along because Jay and Carlos had been called, and Jay was with Harry, and Harry was with Uma.

“Aye! I can see the damsel’s in distress, but I wanna know why before I start offering me condolences.” Harry spoke in the drawl he had inherited from his father.

“Nothing.” Mal quipped. “We’re fine. No damsels are in distress.” 

In response to the blatant lie, Evie put a hand on Mal’s arm.

“Mal. It’s fine.” Turning to Uma and Harry, Evie took in a little breath. “I have this… thing. This disorder. It’s called Tourette’s. And it makes me move uncontrollably, as you know from when we were on the Isle. But it happened today in science. It happened really badly, and Mr, Deley kept on getting mad at me for it. So Mal helped me out, and-” she let out a breath of air through her teeth. “Here we are.”

Uma nodded thoughtfully.

“Well, that seems like good enough of a reason to call us here.” She shrugged simply.

Before anyone could respond, Carlos and Gil came rushing in. Gil was holding blankets, and Carlos was holding some of Evie’s favorite foods.

“Came here as fast as we could!” Carlos exclaimed, not caring enough to use proper grammar.

“And we brought snacks!” Gil grinned brightly.

Evie just laughed a bit in response.

“You didn’t have to do that…”

“Of course we did! A teacher was being an ass, and you were clearly upset… plus, we haven’t all hungout in a while…” Mal trailed off with a smile on her face.

After a moment, Evie nodded.

“I guess you’re right. So- let’s enjoy this moment. Anyone want to turn on a movie?”

Chapter Text

“Oh, Hunter.” Luz frowned, dark eyes studying- judging - him, looking for even more reasons to be mad at him. It wasn’t as if she didn’t already have enough reason, though. Hunter, Her guard; Her Golden Guard, had failed yet again. “I gave you an order. You dare to disobey?” She looked down upon him from Her Throne.

“I’m- I’m sorry, Empress. It won’t happen again.” He practically groveled at her feet.

“Like Azura it won’t!” Luz- the Empress- ‘s booming voice reverberated around the monstrous cavern.

Hunter flinched. Luz was, in a way, worse than Belos. Because Hunter knew her. She was like a sister to him- the only family he ever had. Belos was similar, sure, but he was Belos’ guard all along. He had been Luz’s friend. He had been her brother. And Luz? She had been kind. Kind to him, kind to Amity, kind to Gus and Willow… but then she picked up that damned scepter.

And all Hell broke loose.

Luz had become the Empress, with Amity at her right hand- just as infected by all the dark magic. It was beyond Hunter’s guess as to what had happened to the others.

Back in the throne room, Luz approached him slowly. Every sharp clack from the steel lining her shoes felt like a slap as she descended the small flight of stairs. Hunter looked to Amity for assistance in vain. Amity offered no help or remorse as she stood beside The Throne, Ghost resting in her arms. The small platform that Luz’s Throne sat upon was just enough room for Amity’s cape to not drape off the edge, especially due to the large amount of space Luz’s throne took up.

Luz looked into his eyes, raising an eyebrow.

Hunter quickly looked down.

“Another rule broken. Do you like testing my patience, Golden Guard?”

“No! No. Not at all, ma’am.”

“Then I suppose I should just remind you of them. Stand, Golden Guard.” The Empress commanded. And Hunter didn’t need to be told twice.

All but scrambling to his feet, Hunter stood at attention. His back was straight and his face tilted up and his eyes looking straight so he didn’t make eye contact, but also didn’t look down upon The Empress and his hands were pressed against his legs and his breathing was short and small so-

“Now. Care to tell me what rules you broke, Golden Guard?” Luz breathed out. The words were light, but held the weight of a dumbbell and sounded as though a snake had learned to speak.

“Rule number one. Don’t fail- or- or come back with bad results. Rule number four. Don’t make eye contact with Her Majesty.” Hunter stated. See? He knew the rules! He didn’t have to be reminded or punished! He didn’t screw up too badly!
“Hm. So. You knew the rules when you broke them?” Luz tsked. Hunter went pale. “Golden Guard! I expected better of you!” She stared him down, removing her earring. The earring that had belonged to Adrian Graye.

Luz shook her head solemnly as Amity joined the two.

“Oh, Hunter…” Amity sighed. “It really hurts us to do this. You do know that. Right?”

Hunter shook his head quickly.

“Exactly. So just know that we want this about as much as you do! We don’t want to hurt you. But you make us do it… the rules are there for a reason. You know that.”

Hunter just nodded.

Luz hummed softly. “Y’know… I wonder what Willow would think.”

Oh, Titan. No. Not Willow.

“Would she still love you?” Luz asked, to no one in particular.

A spell circle was made. Hunter began to sob. He knew what was going to happen. They were going to make an illusion Willow, and she was going to hurt him. She was going to laugh at him. She was going to leave him alone.

He received a harsh slap across the side of his face.

Luz squished his face in- forcing eye contact between the two of them.

“Rule five. Quiet when your Empress speaks.”

Hunter stared, terrified. Frozen in fear.

“Understand?” Her voice echoed out through the cavern once more.

“Yes! I- I understand, Empress!” He choked out through his bokeh, quiet sobs.

Luz smiled. “Good. But… I think you might need a reminder. Something you can take with you. Any ideas, Amity?”

Amity stepped forward, circling Hunter as a predator would circle its prey. “I think so, batata.” Amity finally stopped in front of them. Hunter’s face was forced down so he could stare at the two. Amity took a dagger from her boot, stepping to the blind spot of his face.

And without another word, blood began dripping down the side of his face. He didn’t scream. He knew better than to scream. Even when his ear started going numb- no, both his ears started going numb- he stayed silent. Even when the wet sound of flesh hitting the floor could be heard. Even when he was allowed to move, allowed to look at the triangular pieces of- of his ear could be seen on the floor. Even when he threw up the meager food he had been given all over the floor.

He didn’t scream.

He didn’t do anything. Because he wasn’t Hunter. He was the Golden Guard. And this was no longer Luz he was dealing with. This was the Empress. And he was her faithful servant.

And not even Willow could pull him from her clutches now.

Chapter Text

“Yes, Jeremy, for the last time: I’m sure I want to cut my hair.”

“To-”

“Yes, to that length. Now hurry up! Dad and Uncle Henry’ll be here any minute!” Michael urged. Earlier that day, Michael had gotten his hair cut by a friend- Tennessee. It took Michael about ten minutes to get a stick stuck in it, though… so he just needed it shorter. William didn’t approve of him being friends with Tennessee, though, so Michael resorted to Jeremy. Jeremy was great, yeah, but his skills lay more in athleticism and math.

Jeremy just shrugged. “Well, enjoy having a good haircut while it lasts.”

Michael rolled his eyes, and Jeremy got to cutting. They were using a razor and the sharpest scissors in the house, so it couldn’t be that bad. Right?

Snip!

“Shit!”

Cut!

“What? What did you do-?”
Clack!

“Ow!”

“Are you okay!?”

Slice!

“Hold still!”
Snip!

“I am-!”

Clink!

“Done!” Jeremy grinned, handing Michael a mirror.

Michael stared. This was a bad idea. He should have just stuck with what he had, then let Tennessee cut it shorter afterwards. Because this was far worse than the rat’s nest he had earlier. Bird’s nest, really- considering the fact that his hair seemed to absorb all small objects within his vicinity.

“Just cut it all off.” Michael decided.

“What-? I did what you-”
“Jeremy, just cut it off. All of it. This looks terrible.”

“Hey! I mean- well, I did warn you.” Jeremy shrugged.

“And I didn’t listen. Jeremy, I swear to God, cut this off. All of it.” Michael buried his face in his hands.

Jeremy paused. “...are you absolutely sure? Because there’s no going back.”
Michael exhaled loudly. “Yes! I’m not going to Evan’s dance looking like a mess.”
With a nod, Jeremy gingerly picked up the razor. Michael picked his head up so Jeremy could start.

“Bottoms up,” Jeremy gave an awkward smile and began to shave Michael’s hair off.

It only took upwards of ten minutes before Jeremy was done.

Michael admired himself in the mirror, thinking. Finally, he spoke. “It’s better than it was before,” Michael tried, smiling at himself in the mirror. He… actually didn’t hate it.

“That’ll be forty bucks.” Jeremy made a ‘give me’ gesture, giving Michael a smirk.

“Jeremy, I don’t- that wasn’t the deal.” Michael laughed nervously.

A groan. “I know, I know… I just wanted to get some cash out of you. Your pop’s rich. But go get dressed! You’re not letting Duncan’s work go to waste, are you?” Jeremy gave an indignant gasp.

Michael got up. “No-! I’ll be back down. Ten minutes, tops!”

“I’ll time you!” Jeremy called after him.

No more than two hours later, Michael was teaching Evan an improvised dance; all clad in the outfit Duncan had made him.

Throughout the course of the Father’s Day Dance, Evan rarely left Michael. He was either clinging to his older brother’s sleeve, admiring his new haircut, or excitedly rambling about Fredbear’s Diner.

Michael had gotten a lot of odd looks and the occasional ‘is he yours? You look very young for a father,’ but it was worth it. To see Evan beam with pride whenever he got the made-up dances right, to see him talk with his Fredbear plush, and even the way he didn’t correct people who asked about Michael being his dad.

The night had ended too soon, and at 7pm, Michael was honestly sad to have to go. 

“So, Evan, what’d you think of the dance?” Michael asked his younger brother.

“I loved it! Did you see Fredbear do those flips and then me catch him? I did it ten times in a row!” Evan grinned brightly, mint green eyes sparkling. He had chosen to wear a nice pair of jeans and the rainbow shirt that Michael had bought him, which he made sure not to spill anything on.

Michael smiled at his brother in the rearview window. “I did see, yeah!”

Evan continued to excitedly describe the night- all while Michael listened closely. If William couldn’t offer this, then Michael sure as Hell was. His little brother meant everything to him, and it was worth shaving his head for this. It was worth it for his brother.

Eventually, Evan asked a… peculiar question.

“Can I shave my head too? You look super cool with it. We can match!” He reasoned, looking at Michael with those big doe eyes of his.

Michael froze. Okay. He’d do anything but that.

“I don’t think Dad would like it, Evan.”

“Aw…” Evan stared out the window. “Please? Dad wouldn’t have to know! I can wear a hat!” He pleaded to his older brother.

Michael sighed softly. “Evan… look. I’m sorry. Dad just… he wouldn’t think it was appropriate.” He tried again. The real reason was he wanted to keep his brother safe from their Father’s wrath… though he knew William was hesitant to lay a hand on Evan. The young boy didn’t understand that telling someone would get their Father taken away, and even if he did- Michael would still ‘accidentally’ let it slip to either his Uncle or friends. Hitting him was one thing. Hitting Evan was another.

As the two walked inside, Evan was more than eager to run upstairs and go to bed. Michael assumed it was to cry, as he often did, and headed up to bed as well. Evan always told Michael when he felt super sad or numb, as he sometimes did. Michael had always done his best to help in these moments, though he didn’t want to get help for fear of Evan being seen as Henry or Jeremy were. In the words of half of Hurricane: “retarded.”

Evan never did run into Michael’s room, so the only reason he woke up in the middle of the night was because the sound of scissors snipping was actually very loud in a silent house.

Michael didn’t waste a moment in stepping out of bed and speed walking to the bathroom. And it was a good thing he didn’t. Because, standing in the bathroom, was Evan: cutting off his hair.

“Evan!” Michael exclaimed. He was simultaneously panicked and relieved at this. On one hand, someone hadn’t broken into the house and Evan hadn’t cut a finger off. On the other hand, though, Evan was cutting his hair off. All of his hair off.

Evan turned, eyes wide and scissors hovering over an exceedingly short lock of hair.

Michael stared for a second. He sighed.

“Give me the scissors.”

Evan trembled, handing them over. He was going to cry any second now.

“Wait here. I’ll be back in a moment, okay?” Michael left the bathroom to return the scissors to their rightful place in the kitchen.

William- their Father- ‘s shoes weren’t by the door, which means he had left them alone again. And without a note. Again.

Michael scoffed. Really? He was sixteen and Evan was eight. He shouldn’t have to take care of him. Just because William couldn’t deal with their Mom leaving, he didn’t have the right to make his teen son take care of his younger brother. That’s just shitty parenting. Michael had raised Evan, so it wasn’t up to William to decide what he could and couldn’t do.

With a newfound determination, Michael marched back upstairs.

“Sit.” He commanded, grabbing the razor.

Evan obeyed timidly. “What are you doing, Mikey?”

Michael turned with a wild grin. “I’m shaving your head so your haircut looks just like mine.”

Evan stared, wide-eyed and hopeful. “But- won’t Dad be mad?”

“Oh, he will. But that just makes this even better.”

Chapter Text

Michael Afton didn't consider himself an expert on the psychology of children’s souls- let alone children’s souls that had been possessing his father’s animatronics for upwards of thirty years. He could, at the very least, guess that they probably weren’t doing so well. But did that really warrant them to try and kill him!? Sure, it had happened before- but this was different. In a last attempt to end everything, Michael’s Uncle Henry had burned them all in the last remaining Freddy’s location. It didn’t work, of course. Because the kids didn’t want to die. Which was a little more than vital to the whole operation.

Which is how Michael found himself hidden under the security desk, a complimentary spirit box set on the desk above him. Because William was a little bastard, he hadn’t let Henry die either. So now Mike’s dead Uncle was the only company he had while being chased down by a bunch of dead kids.

“In—left–hall.” A voice crackled through the box. Michael couldn’t respond, too focused on keeping himself quiet and unseen to yell at his Uncle’s ghost to do the same.

“Mike…” Taunted the voice of Cassidy. Michael had never known her- all he knew was she shared the rotted Fredbear animatronic with his younger brother. Speaking of which, Michael didn’t know many of the kids. Charlotte was the only one outside of his immediate family he actually knew. And then again, Ballora- Clara didn’t count. William had unofficially divorced her years prior.

He heard a low whisper of “it’s me,” a sign that he should probably rewind the music box. For whatever reason, the sound of it drew back the ghosts inside of the old Fredbear. Golden Freddy, he supposed it was now called. It was most likely Evan being drawn to the music he loved so much, with Cassidy protesting all the way. He hoped she was protesting. It might seem counterintuitive, considering if she wasn’t he would probably be dead, but it would mean she had her will left. Her fighting spirit.

The kids referred to him as “Michael.” Not “William” or “Purple Guy” or any other name his Father had been given. No, he was “Michael.” Sometimes “Mike.” And that worried him more than any killer robot did. Because if they knew his name; they knew who he was. Which meant that they knew he hadn’t killed them. Which, much like before, just gave them even less of a reason to try and kill him. He had a theory as to why they were doing it, but was in denial about it even being remotely true. Were the kids serving under his Father? No. No, no. That made no sense.

“It may—be—true.” A voice crackled through the box. Ah, so he had been mumbling.

“Shut up.” He quipped, slamming the doors shut on Chica.

“Well—We—can’t—beat–him—without—-knowing.” Various voices from different frequencies came in through the spirit box- different, but all put together by his Uncle.

Michael remained silent. It was true, he knew that much. But his goal wasn’t to beat his Father. It was to set free his friends and family.

“She’s—gone.” Came crackling through.

Michael opened the doors again. He used to love how much his Uncle had to say- but it got a little upsetting when he was in a life-or-death situation, and it wasn’t even his Uncle’s voice he was hearing. After taking a second to make sure he was safe, he checked the clock. At 6am, all of the animatronics powered down automatically. That would give him a good two hours to take samples from the metal in their endoskeletons. Michael hadn’t run into William yet- though the Lolbit program had been laughing about “a disciple” and someone named “Vanny.” And he was sure if he could either:

a.) Figure out the recipe for Remnant and how to destroy it, and/or

b.) Figure out who “Vanny” was- it’d lead him to some answers.

Essentially, Michael was certain that once he lured his Father out of hiding he’d get some fucking answers. If Henry was correct, and the animatronics were under William’s control, then he’d know how to get them to become themselves again. And even if they weren’t, He’d at least figure out how to set them free.

He sighed. This really was his life now, huh? Having to save his entire family was just a part of the daily grind.

So be it, then. Through gritted teeth and charred flesh- he’d find his Father. And he’d save everyone, and he’d get to live normally (that was, as soon as he came to terms with the fact that all the animatronics- children-  were being controlled by his Father… and he’d finally have the guts to end it. ‘For all of them’). 

Well, as normally as any Afton could. And as soon as he had ended everything, he’d visit his Father in Hell one last time. Just for a few laughs.

Chapter Text

Laura Jameson

Laura is the birth mother of Elizabeth, and William’s beard. Clara is a shit mom- so Laura babysits William’s kids. She’s essentially their step-mom, and William’s essentially Elizabeth’s step-dad. Laura is a lesbian, and was killed by an ex before she possessed Ballora.

William Afton

A good dad.

“Will!” Laura ran downstairs, her hair pulled up by a claw clip and dress only halfway zipped up. “Can you help Elizabeth find her shoes?”

“The fancy ones?” William asked, fighting with the violet knots around his neck that were supposed to be a tie.

“Yeah, her pink Mary Janes.” Laura answered the question whilst pulling on her own shoes.

William nodded, running upstairs to assist Laura’s daughter. His daughter, essentially- though that was a lot more complicated to explain to the other parents at PTO meetings.

“Michael, brush your hair.” Laura commanded to the teen sitting at the table. He just rolled his eyes, running a hand through his matted, mohawk-like wolf cut. It caught a few times, of course, but he just winced through it and pretended it was all better.

Laura gave him a soft smack on the back of his head. “Kiddo, your hair’s terrible. Just brush it. If you won’t, I will.” She stated. It wasn’t up for debate. They had been invited to Charlotte Emily’s fifth birthday party, which was taking place at Freddy’s. It may have been a kid’s restaurant, however the Aftons- and Jamesons- refused to look anything less than presentable at even a vomit-soaked pizzeria. Well, the adults did, anyway. And Elizabeth was just taking after her mom.

Michael huffed, wolfing down his cereal and charging into the upstairs bathroom. Laura sighed. She took care of his dishes, eyeing the time nervously. Clara would be here soon, and they had to be out the door before she arrived. She was an abusive asshole, and this was a kid’s birthday. They were not going together. So, with that in mind, Laura would make getting out the door even a little bit easier.

“Alright, ready when you are.” William tossed Laura the keys to his car.

She caught them, smiling back at a grinning Elizabeth. They’d found her shoes- she had slept over the previous night. Laura just got a ride from her “close female friend” early that morning.

“Michael, get your ass down here or we're leaving without you!” Laura called upstairs as Evan held on to her pointer finger.

“Language!” Michael called back to her as he ran downstairs. Laura was always a stickler for his swearing, but didn’t hesitate to drop a swear or two around him.

Michael made it downstairs as everyone was ushered out the door and into the car, Laura being the one to drive, of course. She was the kind of woman who could beat up someone’s Dad, and wouldn’t hesitate to put anyone in their place. She was ahead of her time in the way of feminism, basically.

They were driven out of the driveway a single notch above the MPH- because goddamn if Michael didn’t complain about being late.

Laura caught William’s eye for a second, the two giving each other childish grins. It was going to be a damn good day, eh?

Chapter Text

Apologies for not writing for so long! I’ve got a lot of work to do (fundraiser, making a costume, ten page assignment due by tomorrow…) and I’ve been busy with that. I hope to write some more soon, most likely it will be for my other story (the Descendants fanfic)! I’m not out of the woods yet as I still have many things to do, but this is just an update. Have a lovely day, and I’m sorry for being gone!

Chapter Text

I was hesitant to do this, but I’m taking a lil break! School ends in like a month (which fucking sucks), I’ve had a lot of schoolwork to do, and on top of that my creative writing assignments are longer now so that takes all my writing energy out of me. I’m sorry, I’ll b back soon, hopefully!!