smacks his ASS
IN FRONT OF THE ANIMATRONICS?
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smacks his ASS
IN FRONT OF THE ANIMATRONICS?

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@unknownths asked: The animatronic is behaving completely normally. Even... suspiciously well. It's only when Michael begins his regular maintenance and is required to open the stomach hatch that anything seems amiss. It's stuck. When it's forced open, there's a small colorful explosion of confetti, glitter, and spring snakes (and one screw - now one of the hinges needs repaired. oops). Bonnie left a present for him! :) // michael birthday
MICHAEL DOES TAKE NOTE of the striking lack of chaos. Not a single comment or jab thrown his way, to the point where he almost thinks something might be wrong with Bonnie’s systems ( a different issue than usual, at least ). He definitely made some sort of joke about it, but he mostly conducted his tasks in silence… that is, until the stomach hatch refuses to open.
“… Huh.” Brows knit, Michael narrows his gaze and tries again…and again… and again. He ends up having to grab a tool to pry it open, pulling with all the strength of arms belonging to a walking corpse. “Motherfucker-” It pops open! Confetti and whatever else Bonnie managed to shove in there bursts out, practically showering Michael’s unifom in glitter.
“What the hell— I knew you were up to something. Wh…” Finally, the date clicks. Michael has… entirely lost track of the years, developing a tenency to barely pay attention, but he’s employed enough to be far too aware of where they are on the calendar. “Haha, hilarious. And here I thought my gift was some peace and quiet.”
@unknownths asked: (for fitz) 🎊 *chanting* KISS KISS KISS KISS KISS KISS K // mistletoe / nye kiss meme
IT'S A SMALL CELEBRATION confined mostly to the living room and the kitchen, a mess of mismatched Christmas decorations they haven't bothered to take down yet adorning the place and the television set up for the upcoming countdown. Michael grabbed them drinks— he thought about a cheap bottle of champagne for tradition's sake, but went for their preferences instead, who said they have to stick to the classics anyway? He even managed to swipe a few shitty decorations from his latest job, mostly because he thought they were funny.
"What? You don't wanna kiss me with the glasses on?— and here I was finally trying to do something festive." Michael tosses them to the side ( good for the sake of a joke, but he doesn't exactly what to keep looking at the obnoxious renditions of Freddy and the gang squeezed onto plastic glasses ). "You're lucky I didn't grab the noisemakers."
It's something that would have been like pulling teeth to get him to indulge in just a few years ago, but when the countdown arrives, he doesn't hesitate to participate with Fitz. The alcohol definitely contributes to the buzz flowing through his body, but it isn't the only reason he feels lighter than usual.
He almost forgets the 'happy new year' part when they reach it, fumbling out a small cheer inches away from Fitz's face before crashing their lips together in a kiss. Michael buries a hand in the fabric of Fitz's shirt, the other cupping his face, and lets the warmth flow through him, his face hot in spite of how long they've been together by now. When they pull apart, Michael shuffles his legs up onto the couch, practically half a movement away from sitting on him at this point, before going in for another. And if that's not enough, he's grinning when they lock eyes again. "Fuck the bars, this was a good call."
@unknownths asked: "don't worry. i'll make all the food." luciano.. michael's ass is NOT allowed in that kitchen feli is but he doesn't need to know about that // winter-themed prompts
"YOU CAN'T EVEN pretend you want to accept my help?" Michael complains ( whines ) back, though it barely takes any time for him to drop that entirely— the last thing he wants to do is actually complain himself into the kitchen. Although, he doesn't think Luciano would let him even if he desperately wanted to. He stands in the doorframe, arms crossed and leaning against the wall. It's near where he entered to drop off what he brought: a bottle of wine and a box of christmas cookies ( store bought, but at least he tried ).
The counters somehow look meticulously organized and as if a tornado hit them all at once. Somewhere out of the corner of his eye, Feliciano is chopping something ( eagerly ). And as much as Michael is reluctant to step foot inside, the smell wafting through the place is fucking amazing. "Good call, I'd burn down your kitchen."
Somehow, Michael still ends up roped into it all, though he's far away from the actual cooking. Instead, he's sporting rubber gloves, an apron, and wielding a sponge. Dishwashing duty. As annoying of a job as it is, he can't say he isn't entertained, mostly keeping his mouth shut while he listens to the two brothers argue ( unable to resist a comment here and there, when he can actually understand what they're saying ).
"Huh?" He looks up in reaction to the first non-Italian word spoken in awhile, meeting Luciano's gaze before his own flickers to the spoon in hand. "Oh-" Taste test again. Michael maneuvers his way over, soon realizing he forgot to remove the dish gloves, a fact that demands his wet, sudsy hands stay firmly at his sides. He ends up having to tilt his head to the spoon to try it, though the effort is worth it when the flavor hits his mouth. "Holy shit. Whatever you did— that's it." He never said he was good at describing food.
@unknownths asked: "I don't like this... thing," Evan declares, glaring daggers at Carl the Cupcake who was perched on the corner of the security desk. More accurately, he doesn't like this place. Or this company. Or the situation in general. The cupcake blinks at him. He's not sure he remembers it being there when they got there, actually... "Michael," his voice grows louder, more urgent. "...It's pissing me off." // robert........
MICHAEL IS BUSY ON THE CAMERA SYSTEM as Evan sends daggers towards his chosen enemy, unable to spare a glance just yet— not like he thought this would go any differently. So much has changed over the years, yet Evan still hates almost everything to do with the pizzerias.
"Yeah, I know. What is there to like here?" It isn't like it was before, no more wailing under tables and careless laughter, though Michael does feel a twinge of guilt for his initial dismissal now. Nerves twist in his stomach. He didn't want to have a 'bring your little brother to work at the same restaurant chain you grew up in and scarred him forever at' day either, but he couldn't leave Evan alone at home, not when he suspects the man he's been searching for is close by.
His eyes narrow, and he focuses on the keys: he's trying to hack it. Give them full surveillance access. It'll feel safer, at least. He's never been a tech genius, or even really that smart, but their father loves his patterns. Michael's lips press into a thin line as he types '1983' into the keypad, and like clockwork, the blacked out cameras turn right on. Prick.
As he does, Evan's deadpan ( yet somehow still distressed ) plea intensifies, and Michael turns in the chair to face him. "What's it doi-" Abrupt cutoff, Michael... also stares at the cupcake. Was that there when they got here? "Uh..." Are its eyes moving? "... Maybe we can still book it outta here—"

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@unknownths asked: “ did you know that people with guilty consciences are more easily startled by loud nois— blasts airhorn ” bonnie fucking with him for. reasons // iconic glados lines
MICHAEL STARTLES. Which is impressive, because it takes a lot to shake him these days— or, maybe he only thinks so because he's gotten used to the typical job description. He doesn't break a sweat behind the desk anymore ( ... if he could sweat, he wouldn't, he'll choose to believe that ), unfazed by much of the paranormal. The A.I. models, however... they're less predictable to Michael than whatever horrific shit he could find buried in the basement.
The 'startle' made him shuffle back a bit, tension knotted in raised shoulders. Skin pulls taut against bone with the sudden movement, the ghastly sight concealed with layers for a reason. Michael clears his throat, readjusting his posture and clicking his mini flashlight to shine it in Bonnie's eyes before actually turning it towards the damage he was supposed to be assessing.
"Yeah yeah, fuck you. Pull that again and I'll find the setting to turn off your sound effects, which I won't feel guilty about." So what if he's right about the conscience? Michael doesn't see how that has anything to do with blasting an airhorn in his face.
“Quiet down, there’s a show going on.” racer harassing grazi as usually
look at me, i'm the king of new york // accepting // @unknownths
Contrary to his warning, Graziella almost yelps in surprise. Sure, she had been pacing backstage and maybe the johns outside could hear the click-clack of her fancy new heels on the wooden floor. But maybe they couldn't. They certainly would hear her scream when caught off guard by Manhattan's most notorious newsie. She clamps her hands over her mouth on instinct, her eyes adjusting in the darkness to find the curly head of hair belonging to none other than Anthony Higgins.
Surely her heart is still thundering because of the adrenaline rush. Surely.
She glances around, worried on his behalf. Medda has security; was someone gonna hear the commotion and come kick Race out? When no one approaches, Graziella - though decked out in the finery of her newest persona, the showgirl now known as Carmen - reverts to back to Hotshot. Quick tempered, fiery Hotshot. A fist collides with Racetrack's arm. "What the hell are you doin', sneaking around back here?! Christ, ya gonna give me a heart attack before I even make my fuckin' debut!"
@unknownths ( from evan ) asked: ∗ 31﹕ sender runs and jumps into receiver’s arms . GRABS HIM (LITERAL) // 100 nonverbal prompts
MICHAEL STUMBLES BACK a few steps out of sheer shock, catching himself and regaining balance just in time to keep both of them from toppling over into what would likely be yet another osha violation. Of course he knows Evan doesn't like these places ( a good chunk of which points directly to Michael ), he didn't exactly encourage Evan joining him this time. He anticipated tension, reservation, avoidance. What he wasn't ready for was Evan grabbing onto him and practically using him as a human shield.
A younger version of Michael would have used that as immediate ammunition, but he's long past that ( even pushing down the instinct to freeze in a guilt-ridden stasis, he can't pull away right now, either )— he does, however, look dumbfounded while fully letting it happen. Evan deserves to use him as a shield, really. "Fucking hell— you're not that much shorter than me anymore, if you knock me over like that we're both dead." Despite the teasing response, he... does what he can, maneuvers to keep a hand hovering over Evan's shoulder instead of pushing him away. "It's... fine, they shouldn't be hostile." Key word: shouldn't. "You stay behind while I handle it."