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☆ Maidhc ☆

@speuradair / speuradair.tumblr.com

Hey, welcome to Maidhc's Writing Blog ☆ 24 ☆ He/They ☆ Queer ☆ Autistic ☆ Requests: Open
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☆ ~Navigation~ ☆

Hey, you’ve found my writing blog! My name’s Michael (or Maidhc) and this is where I post self insert fics, blurbs, headcanons, fake texts, and sometimes match-ups. Requests are usually open, but you can check the current request status in my bio. My inbox is always open, so feel free to stop by and tell me anything you want, no matter how random. ♡

☆ Please remember to check out the rules before requesting. ☆

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While this blog is completely SFW and there isn't any s*xually explicit content, I want to make it clear that I am an adult. If that makes you uncomfortable, don't feel obligated to interact. Your comfort is most important.

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© Everything written here is written and owned by Maidhc (me). Please, do not repost or edit anything without my permission. Theft isn't cool! 

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Care | M.A.

(CW- description of depression)

“You have to take better care of yourself.”

The words were mumbled under your breath but with how close you’re standing in front of him, Michael heard them anyway. He gave only a soft hum in reply, but you already knew what he was thinking- He didn’t think there was any point in trying to take care of himself anymore. You didn’t need him to spell that out for you to understand it. 

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Anonymous asked:

You asked for michael afton requetsts sooo

Michael afton being controlled by glitchtrap, glitchtrap trying to continue his legacy with his own son, wether he wants it or not

oh my god i love this. the angst is unmatched >>>

  • Michael got a little too close to something he shouldn't have
  • He's always had a habit of doing that
  • from being a rebellious teen who pushed his luck with a smart mouth to being an adult who just doesn't know how to stay away from the horrors of Fazbear Entertainment
  • From the very moment he saw that damned rabbit he knew he'd messed up
  • Now it seems to be following him, lingering in the corner of his eye and creeping in the shadows of his mind
  • when he's falling asleep and he finds himself in that fleeting mix of lucidity and sleep he can even hear him calling to him
  • "Hello. Can you hear me?"
  • No matter how hard he tries, he can't push the image of that thing from his mind
  • It's there from the time he wakes up to the time he falls asleep, even more so while he's asleep
  • Michael ends up getting less and less sleep until he's staying up all night
  • Then, overtired, he's hearing that voice again
  • "Let me out."
  • He isn't sleeping yet he's barely awake, functioning on autopilot as he goes through his day and his nightshifts at the pizzeria
  • He's forcing himself awake, making himself move to stay up and depriving himself of sleep until he's falling asleep at work the second he actually sits still

  • Michael wakes up in his desk chair in the security office with a pounding headache and confusion clouding his mind
  • he's used to being creeped out by the eerie atmosphere of the pizzeria at night, from the odd shiver down his spine to that feeling of paranoia that tends to build up over his six hour shift
  • but that was nothing compared to this
  • no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't seem to focus
  • he was dizzy, disoriented, confused
  • the last thing he remembered was clocking in just before midnight but now the clock read 5:30 am
  • How had he lost five and a half hours?
  • It takes a few moments for him to refocus
  • and then he notices the blood on his hands, the mud on his shoes
  • what the hell?
  • Was that his blood?
  • He didn't think so
  • He isn't in any pain that would indicate he'd actually gotten hurt
  • but if that's the case, who's blood was it?
  • Only then does he realize he can hear that voice again, laughing in satisfaction
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