#(ui) original: springfall.

[runelocked]

THE  SUITS  ARE  SUPPOSED  TO  BE  SAFE.  IN  WILLIAM’S  FRANTIC  MIND,  HE  REMINDS  HIMSELF  OF  THAT.  The  suits  are  designed  to  be  worn,  and  despite  his  unfortunate  restless  movements  constantly  ensuring  the  springlocks  start  to  come  loose  more  than  they  should,  overall,  he’s  been  wearing  it  for  months  without  too  much  problem.  SO  WHY  NOW  IS  HE  PANICKING ?

Michael  is  pulled  away.  Emilie takes him out. William  barely  acknowledges  his  son  or  his  wife,  already  lifting  his  arms  to  undo  those  stupid  gloves,  that  tumble  off  quickly,  landing  with  a  clatter  on  the  floor.  Even  such  a  noise  makes  him  flinch,  and  one  of  those  spring - locks  digs  sharply  into  his  shoulder  at  his  movement.  William  seizes,  stiffens  in  pain,  but  tunes  it  out.  Focuses  on  keeping  his  breathing  very,  very  steady  and  his  efforts  to  get  the  suit  off his body  redouble.  By  the  time  Emilie  is  back,  he’s  partially  succeeded;  both  gloves  and  the  head  lie  aside,  discarded  without  care.  For  all  intents  and  purposes,  nothing  looks  wrong  –  not  from  the  outside.

But  when  he  meets  her  eyes,  there’s  genuine  fear  there,  for  perhaps  the  first  time  in  his  entire  life.  “ The  springlocks  are  coming  loose, ”  he  tells  her,  words  quiet,  straining  with  the  effort  to  keep  the  horror  from  his  voice,  “ I  need  you  to  –  ”  His  mind  draws  a  blank.  He  needs  her  to  be  here.  Needs  her  to  look  away.  Needs  her  to  help  him,  needs  her  to  do  nothing.  He doesn't know.

Head  off,  hands  free.  It’s  easier  to  begin  working  very  carefully  on  unfastening  the  arms,  and  so  he  does  so,  only  for  that  same set of springlocks  from  before  to  pierce  with  more  intent  into  his  left shoulder.  Now  he  does  cry  out:  the  sound  quickly  turned  into  a  hissed  curse.  Despite  the  pain,  he’s  had  it  drilled  into  him  that  men  don’t  show  weakness . . .  Not  in  front  of  his  pregnant  wife.

“ Help  me  get  this  off  my  arm, ”  he  tells  her,  voice  sharp  and  strange  with  pain,  “ I  need  to  get  it  off. ”  He  has  no  idea  that  this  will  only  make  things  worse.  It’s  already  too  late.

CONTINUED. / @mechanicaldance

[runelocked]

@ladyseidr LIKED FOR A FAZTASTIC CHRISTMAS STARTER !

WILLIAM WON’T LIE TO HIMSELF: YES, HE’D STAYED UP FOR TWO DAYS STRAIGHT TO DECORATE THE DORM ROOM SPECIFICALLY FOR HENRY. Yes, he has a slight infatuation with the other boy. Yes, he has four essays due in six days and things are fine, his priorities are fine, and he’s fine, thank you very much. Covered in twinkling lights, emptily - smiling ornaments, and all kinds of tinsel and beads, William only has seconds to admire the dorm room before he hears the sound of Henry’s keys fumbling in the door.

Shit ! He’s not ready yet. Darting skittishly out of sight to pull on an irritatingly scratchy Christmas sweater, he paints a smile on his face: this will make up for their argument, he’s sure of it. After all, there is nothing even minorly irritating about coming home after a long day to find your roommate has some half - baked scheme to plead for your festive forgiveness. William has even made a Christmas cake: the fruits of his labor sits dejectedly on the centre coffee table, and he gets a burst of pride every time he looks at it. If he ignores the fact it was supposed to be shaped like a tree, and sort of just looks like an indistinct mass. And the fact it’s burnt. Whatever. None of that matters ! Christmas is supposed to be about the GIVING, right ? ———

Because Henry’s pushing the door open, and William is flicking all the lights on in a blinding display of hard work, a smug grin on his face as he loiters proudly in the middle of the room, arms crossed, awaiting his reward from Henry. Something that shows how much Henry appreciates his hard work. The other jumping into his arms and kissing him passionately. Or proposal. Or anything in between. “ I decided I do like the festive period after all, ” he says cheerfully, “ I wanted to celebrate properly for once. Happy Christmas, darling. ”

[runelocked]

❓+ what were you doing when everyone started that "moon landing joke" ?? 🤨

LIKE IT’S A SNIFFER DOG ACTIVATION PHRASE, WILLIAM KNOCKS HIS COFFEE FROM HIS DESK AT THE WORDS. An alarmed gaze turns away from his work, dismayed at the inevitable words about to leave his mouth, but trying to delay all the same. “ It was a long long time ago, you know. Long before I met your mother. Long before — what I mean is that this was entirely uncharacteristic of me and — should not be used as an example of good behavior. ”

With as stern a look as he can possibly manage whilst telling his son he remembers almost nothing about 1969 whatsoever, William says, very prim and proper, “ a friend of mine had a dealer who sold very cheap, very potent marijuana. . . . I have no idea what I was doing for the entire month of July. ”

[runelocked]

❝ Maybe I can help. ❞ // henry

HE’S SURE HENRY CAN HELP, ABSOLUTELY. THAT’S WHY HE’S DETERMINED TO DO IT HIMSELF. Thin lips pressed together, shoulders hunched as he’s bent over the Spring - Bonnie suit, he doesn’t reply for a moment, fighting internally with his stubborn irritation. This is supposed to be his suit. The one he’d built, his perfect designs, his first advanced project of this design. He’s proud of it, more than he can explain, it’s his single biggest achievement . . . but Henry’s is better. Breaks less. Needs less work. Stands as the figurehead of the diner. Hollow jealousy eats away at him, as pleased as he is for his friend’s success — and that’s what makes him hesitate now. Does he risk showing his annoyance and childish envy towards the man who has done nothing but help him, even when he hasn’t always needed it ? . . . William sighs, relenting begrudgingly, sitting back and running a hand down his face. He looks ruffled. “I’ve been staring at this stupid springlock for three hours,” he admits, reluctant, his frown still in place, and shifts to let Henry peer over his shoulders, “I don’t even know what’s wrong with it anymore. If you’ve got any advice, be my guest.” And hopefully that won’t hurt his ego too much. William has always been prideful — hopefully Henry has known him long enough to know how temperamental his friend can be.

[runelocked]

PRIDE COMES BEFORE THE FALL. AS A YOUNG MAN William had always been eager, too eager, rushing headfirst into trouble and dealing with the consequences of things later. Usually he could charm his way out of bother; sweet-talk offended parties and ply others with false sorrow; and emerge from any inconveniences relatively unscathed. His mother had always scolded him in that little northern town he’d been raised in, her breath misty in the cold morning air: YOUR RECKLESSNESS IS GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF YOURSELF BEFORE TOO LONG, SON.

This time, there’s no words to save him. The Spring-Bonnie suit is on firm, his son attached firmly to his back and swinging around gaily. Michael’s always loved the spring suit — William is usually happy to let him play around, pretending to be the rabbit character his son so loved, despite Henry’s warnings that the suits hadn’t been created for such rough handling. William has always waved him off. He’s been fine before, hasn’t he?

He’s not fine now. Michael has kicked something loose, or maybe— maybe William hasn’t tightened something as fastidiously as usual. Because there’s a horrible tick-tick-tick of screws and springs beginning to unwind, a gentle pressure applying itself to his skin, and he knows. Needs Michael pulled off him immediately. Needs out of this suit immediately.

Michael is laughing, the toddler’s hands pulling at the hand of Spring - Bonnie. William can’t breathe. Tries his best to remain incredibly still, Henry’s warnings of spring-lock failure ringing through his ears. The diner is closed, and if he just calls loud enough then Emilie might hear: swallowing thickly, he shouts her name urgently, desperation leaking into his voice. If he can get out in time, he’ll be fine. Nothing’s happened yet.

“Emilie! I need you. Take Michael from me, quick. Something— Something’s gone wrong.”

[ @mechanicaldance / CLOSED STARTER. ]

[runelocked]

'You're falling asleep on your feet. Get some sleep.' ( from henry <3 / @ladyseidr )

WILLIAM MUTTERS SOMETHING UNDER HIS BREATH THAT HE’LL LATER REALISE IS ENTIRELY NONSENSICAL. He’s trying to finish a low level repair on the Spring-Bonnie suit, stubbornly refusing to accept Henry’s help: both out of an enthusiastic urge to learn how to work the suits himself, and of a newly born uncomfortable resentment that Henry’s the genius inventor. Sure, they’d both concocted this idea together, but Henry is the technical whizz — where William had only been able to provide the creative and business spark to things, Henry had provided both of those and more. He’s always been a jealous boy, but he’s older, a young man now, and it doesn’t sit right, this envy. So he works. If he can just teach himself enough that he can make a suit from scratch, then those feelings will die, and all will be right with the world again. …Except from the fact it’s been two days, and William is finding himself literally sleeping on the job, his head knocking gently against the suit every time he passes out. It’s only Henry’s presence in their shared workspace that drags his attention: immersed in conversation with himself about tools and techniques, William drags bleary eyes to the other man, blinking owlishly at him to get his gaze to focus.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” he mutters sluggishly, and stifles a yawn into the crook of his elbow. Despite his envy deep down, he keeps that well hidden — his voice remains light and fond, even as he registers he’s already beginning to doze off again. “Me sleeping while you take the credit for my perfect work. Yeah right. I’m going to…” Another yawn, so emphatic that it makes his jaw ache. Hunched over the footplates of the suit, he gestures vaguely in their direction. “Men make millions while the common public sleep, Henry. Come over here. Tell me what I’ve done wrong.”

[runelocked]

“ stop that — we’re in public. ” ( from henry hehe / @ladyseidr )

IN HIS MANY MANY YEARS WITH HENRY, WILLIAM HAS PERFECTED HIS WOUNDED LOOK OF INNOCENCE. He dons it now, casting large confused eyes to the other man . . . completely ignoring the fact they’ve just come out of a meeting about the prospect of building the diner and they’ve literally barely left the building and he’s brushing his hand suggestively against Henry’s thigh, impatient and unashamed. “What?” William says, false puzzlement thick in his voice. “I’m not doing anything.”

Not yet he’s not. But it’s a familiar game: he’ll start with his thighs, and then press closer, tugging the other man into a secluded spot for messy kisses or sly handjobs or flat-out sex before ten minutes has passed. He’s not shy about his infatuation for Henry (though had been cautious enough to ensure nobody had been around to see them here), and the sly gleam in his eye belies the innocence on his features.

“Anyway, you’re being unfair.” Any pretence at playing the fool is dropped instantly when he lowers his voice, turning it something hungry, wanting: “You didn’t see how you looked in that meeting. I wanted to rip the clothes off you then and there, love. You really should be thanking me for being patient.”