#It's been sitting in my drafts for ages cos I keep thinking of things to add

[thefangirlfever]

DBF! Miguel O'hara x reader (part 5)

Tags: angst, fluff, slow burn, F/M, age gape (reader is 28 and Miguel is 48), taboo relationship, mention of death, grief and depression, reader is a woman of color

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. See the end for notes.

Words Count: 5130

“You look positively awful.”

You sighed while hearing the voice of your fellow colleague and friend, Sarah. It was only ten in the morning but she was still as sharp as you remembered her. Not that you would complain, there was something comforting into finding back your usual banter. On the other side of the screen, Sarah was sitting at her desk in your office, already dressed-up and ready for an other day of work at the Smith and co Publishing house. Even if you had to go back to your hometown, you couldn’t let all your projects and upcoming work like that. While Sarah kept an eye on most projects, you were still working on them, sending feedback and correcting most drafts.

“Thanks, Sarah, I like hearing positive words like this when I just woke up.”

To be fair, waking up would imply that you had slept at some point, which was not your case. It has been an other sleepless night filled with feverish nightmares, existential dread and the crushing weight of anxiety sitting on top of your stomach.

She was not wrong, you looked awful this morning. The dark circles under your eyes were now more pronounced after almost two weeks at your father’s place. You were still wearing your robe and your skin looked tarnish. Some fresh air wouldn’t hurt you, but you had your reason for keeping yourself at home. First of all, you were sure you got sick that day spent gardening. Second of all, you had no intention on running into some people or old acquaintances; especially one man in particular…

“I’m serious, Y/N. You look terrible. Why didn’t you ask for a sickness leave? You know, Megan would have given it to you.”

You mumbled something under your breath.

“I don’t like giving up all my work.”

The woman on the other side of the screen rolled her eyes:

“You’re not giving up your work. You’re just taking a break…”

This was your time rolling your eyes. It was not the first time the two of you had this conversation. What was taking a break if not an other excuse for you to bask in those long and endless hours of uncertainty? The longer you stayed without doing anything, the more you were convinced you wouldn’t be able to do anything else again. You needed to move, to act upon something, or else you would slowly decay yourself away. Been there, done that. The last thing you wanted was to do it again. You still remembered the shame, the self-loathe that came with the inactivity, after all these hours spend in bed doing nothing, not even crying.

Hopefully, Sarah didn’t seem to want to push further. Instead she crossed her arms over her desk and looked at you with the gaze she usually reserved for when you were alone, out of the office and drinking at a bar in town.

“So...your father, how is he doing?”

You happily welcomed the change of subject from your poor life habits to your father’s health. At least there was some progress on this side.

“He is doing better. I think his cast will be removed mid-December.”

“Oh, that’s good.” You couldn’t help but feel grateful for her tone. Even if she had never met your father, she always asked about him and she genuinely looked concerned and sounded relieved for him. “This means the two of you will spend the Holidays together?”, she asked with the same enthusiasm.

You nodded without saying a word. She didn’t need to know that you weren’t planning on staying for the holidays. The last thing you wanted was to get trapped in this house with your father alone while the ghost of your mother would haunt the two of you. The mere fact of imagining the table for the dinner with only two plates and not her gave you nausea.

You kept talking about your father’s condition and when you mentioned getting help from one of his friends, you instantly regretted this. The memory of Miguel’s face only increased your nauseous feeling.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

How could you have said this to him when he had helped your family so much? You must have sounded like such an ungrateful jerk… but for some reason, you couldn’t stand the idea of him talking about your mother. Not that he would say anything wrong or hurtful, but if there was one moment when you wanted to not feel like this grieving daughter everyone knew, it was when you were with him…

Sarah cocked one of her eyebrows in a curious way: “A friend of your father? That’s nice of him to help you.”

Again, guilt hit you in the guts and you tried your best to keep a still demeanor. “Yeah...he is very nice… Maybe a little too much.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like asking too much from him…”

Sarah’s eyes opened a little wider in surprise and she looked at you as if you were crazy.

“I’m sure if it was too much for him, he wouldn’t help you this much. You know, there’s nothing wrong in asking for some help.”

It was the exact same words Miguel had said to you and just like when he was the one saying them, you couldn’t help but silently disagree. It has never been in your nature to ask for help, not ask, beg. You’d rather find a solution alone; no need to worry anyone.

“Yeah, I’ll think about that.”, you replied before coughing loudly. Your friend’s brows furrowed and she sighed.

“You’re not sick by any chance? That would explain why you look...like this.” Her words sounded a little more gentle this time as if she was trying her best to not offend you. You’d rather have her being honest with you. The truth was that you were a mess ever since you had woken up. You were feeling dizzy, hot and cold at the same time and your throat was itching. But there was no use to alarm anyone, right?

“It’s nothing, don’t worry. I think I just caught a small cold while staying in the garden for too long…”

“You should go see a doctor.”

“Mhh...I’ll think about that.” You did know a doctor but you weren’t sure you wanted to ask for his help, again. Your friend rolled her eyes again but she chose to not say anything more about this except for: “If you need anything, please, call me.”

“Thanks…”, you replied after a few seconds.

There was no way you would ask anyone for help. How bad could it be?

You spend the rest of the day in a haze. Sarah had sent you a manuscript to correct. Usually this was a task you would easily complete and you were not slow when it came to work. But today, reading even a single sentence made your head pound loudly. You couldn’t read a single sentence in its entirety and you found yourself reading three times the same words over and over again.

The itching sensation in the back of your throat felt like a claw was scratching against your skin and you were practically sure you had a fever; not that you wanted to check.

“I don’t want to sound rude, but you look awful…”, your father quietly said while the two of you had dinner.

“It’s nothing, I just caught a cold.” The last thing you wanted was to worry him. He didn’t need to know that you were feeling nauseous. He didn’t need to know that under that robe, your clothes clung to your damp-sweat skin or that you spend hours tossing in your bed that night looking for sleep.

You tried to conjure a dream, a fantasy, anything to escape from the state you were in. Lying down your bed while looking at the ceiling, you were feeling the exact same way than when you were a teenager. You remember those long nights filled with this feeling you couldn’t identify; anxiety. People were anxious all the time. But you always knew what you were feeling was different. It was like a heavy cloak was resting on your shoulders and you couldn’t get rid of him. Best you could do was pretend. But there would be a day when it wouldn’t be enough. All you needed was something unexpected and too big for you to comprehend to happen and you knew the dikes would break. And it happened…

***

You’re lying on your bed, buried under the blankets while looking at your phone screen. 30 unread messages. Half from your father. You’ll respond to that later. It’s not like anything matters anymore right now. People can wait. You put your phone back on the nightstand and close your eyes. You know you won’t be able to fall asleep. Not without her.

There was a time when your mother would come and hug you, rock you to bed so you could easily fall asleep. What was the name of the song she would sing?

The door of the room opened slowly. The new incomer was greeted with the vision of your silhouette under the sheets, the mess on the floor and the curtains closed. There’s a smell in the room like dust, closeness...not that you don’t mind; you’ve grown used to it by now. But not him.

“You’re going to sleep all day again?”

The only response he gets is the sound of the sheets ruffling around your body. An awkward silence then settled between the two of you. You know he is still there, looking at you from the door with this gaze you don’t want to face again. Finally he sighs and closes the door, leaving you alone with the ghosts from your past.

***

Your body is all sore when you wake up the next day and you stifle a whimper when you tilt your neck to the side. Your throat feels dry and you struggle breathing with your stuffy nose. Even your eyelids feel heavier than usual. How could this day be worse?

You have your answer the moment you step into the kitchen and find Miguel leaning against the counter with a cup of fresh coffee in his hand, reminding you of the last morning you two shared. His eyes land on you the moment you enter the room, studying you from head to toe while he tries his best to stay calm and collected. He doesn’t know why but there’s something in your disheveled appearance that makes his insides tighten and his mouth go dry. Your cheeks are flushed and red and there’s a heat around your body that draws him in. He has to stay still, not let his emotions show on his face but you’re not making it easy. But his eyes also notice the dark circles under your eyes, your puffy, red eyes and the way you look lost, almost haggard… Again, something strong and that he had buried deep inside of him surged to the surface. It’s an instinct that he thought had disappeared long ago.

“Hi…”

“Hey…”, you reply in a small voice while making your way in his direction.

He doesn’t give you the time to reach the coffee machine that he had already turned it on and put your favorite mug underneath. Just when you thought he would resent you for what you said the last day, it seemed like he had forgotten or at least isn’t angry. The two of you watched the cup filling up with coffee in a peaceful silence. Now that you are closer, you can feel the weight of his gaze on you and smell his perfume, which reminds you of the scarf he gave you the last time.

“Hum...I still got your scarf by the way. Maybe you want it back?”

He looks back at you with his usual soft gaze. He doesn’t look angry when you remind him of that day.

“You can keep it if you want.” The two of you almost whisper as if you were afraid of something, something hiding near you. You simply smile back. There’s no way you will keep it, even if that thought doesn’t sound so bad. But maybe you could indulge a bit for now and still keep this small piece of fabric.

A rough cough shakes your body and his gaze narrows.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I think I just caught a small cold…”, you reply while shrugging your shoulders. But he doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer as his fingers reach for yours, making you slowly turn in his direction.

“May I?”

Your body doesn’t move, you don’t try to look away as he slowly puts his hand over your forehead. Your skin feels scorching hot and from closer he can see a thin sheen of sweat covering your body. You have to fight to keep your eyes open. His large palm covers your forehead easily and it feels...nice. His skin is warm from the coffee he had drunk but his fingertips are still cool from the outside, which soothes you a bit.

His eyes watch over your face like any medical professional would do. He notices every sign that you are dealing with a fever, that you’re sick. This is more than a cold, maybe a flu. He can’t help but notice how exhausted you look. Your lips are dry, your cheeks flushed red and a few strands of your hair stick to your dampened skin. Slowly his gaze is not as professional as it should be, not when he spends so many time admiring the slope of your slender neck or the way your dark eyes look like endless wells, deeper and darker than the night.

All he needed was a short touch like this to feel like he was the one under a fever.

The thought of letting his fingers run along your face and then wandering over your body sounds very tempting...but also very dangerous.

Miguel finally removes his hand from your forehead and the slight quivering of your body doesn’t escape to him.

“You have a fever…”, he finally says, trying his best to control the beating of his heart at the same time. “Did you notice any other symptoms?” He tries to sound as professional as he usually does at the clinic he works at, but his voice sounds deeper, a bit more hoarse when he talks to you.

“I feel...itchy there.”, you say pointing at your throat.

“There?”, he asks after a moment of silence while his fingertips reach for you throat. The rough pads of his thumbs draw small circles over your skin and press while he holds the sides of your nape. Your skin feels so hot, he can’t deny how concerned he is. But an other sensation takes over his body as his eyes drift up toward your parted lips. And he immediately hates himself for the image this creates inside his brain…

He finally clears his throat and declares in a solemn voice: “I’ve had a few cases of flu recently and I think you’re not immune to this. You need to rest.”

His fingers finally let go of you and he puts some distance between you. You slowly nod but the small pout of your lips as he tells you to rest doesn’t go unnoticed on his sides. He can’t help thinking that he shouldn’t look this much at your lips, but it seems he can’t help it. He passes a hand through his hair, as if he was tired, and that’s when you notice that despite his put-together look, he seems tired, as tired as you.

“Maybe you could use some rest too…” You could say that but you don’t. It would sound too petty. Instead you grab your cup of coffee and ask: “You’ve been working late?”

The corner of his lips tug upside and he scoffs: “I don’t think I’m the one you should worry about. You already have enough on your plate.”

“I’m fine. It’s just a cold, right? It’ll get away in a few days, like it always does.” You nonchalantly shrug, earning a circumspect look from Miguel. He finally shakes his head.

“If you say so. But please, take some medicine and at least try to rest.”

You stay silent but he can easily read what you’re thinking. He hadn’t known you for long but he feels like you’re not that hard to read into after a few discussions. You’re stubborn and you’re one of these people who can’t sit down for their life and take a break. He used to be like that too, kinda is to this day. And quite ironically, he cares more about your well-being that he would about his. That’s why he knows he shouldn’t push too far with this, so he simply adds:

“At least try, okay? I’ll bring you some antibiotics later.”

“That’s too nice of you.”, you stutter between coughs and he feels like his chest hurts the way yours does when you cough. A simple smile of his settles the conversation.

He didn’t lie when he said he would come back. Miguel did bring you the antibiotics this evening and he even proposed to stay and cook some diner for you and your father. He even cared to make some chicken broth for you, a sweet attention that makes you feel worse. He looks pretty tired and yet, he puts so much energy into this… When he asks you if you need any help to eat, you quickly dismiss him. You’re sick, not impotent.

No one likes being sick, of course but in your case it’s close to a phobia. The taste of the bitter pills, the scent of a doctor’s cabinet, the apathetic way you lie down the couch… You hate all of this and it brings back some memories you didn’t want to face.

***

Her skin that used to be the same shade as yours, a rich and shiny complexion, is now bland, almost too thin like paper… Her luscious hair has disappeared and even if she tries to hide her skin under a scarf, she can’t fool anyone. Not you especially. You know the way her curls travel down the length of her back, rich and bouncy, with this sweet scent; that conditioner that she pretends to ignore the fact you stole some of it.

The woman in front of you is not your mother. It’s someone else, her shadow maybe. But this is not your mother. This is not the woman who could spend hours in the garden working, cutting or simply reading a book, lying on the grass while you would put daisies in her hair. This is not the woman who used to comfort you when you had a nightmare; now that she looks like one. And this is not the elegant and beautiful woman who would always stands out while she was waiting for you in front your school.

You’re old enough to understand what is happening. More than old enough. You’re an adult, you should act like one. It’s what the doctors are saying, what your father’s look says… Ironically the only one who seems to show some empathy to you is your mother. She keeps hugging you, telling you everything is gonna be alright…

But now even this is impossible. Her arms are too thin, like chopsticks and they don’t give off that comforting aura they used to have.

And this is happening in one of those ugly white rooms with the scent of detergent, of cleanliness and that scent is the one of loss to you.

***

You emerge from an other one of these foggy nights. It’s quite hard remembering in detail your dreams, even more with your fever, but you still remember the cold and sanitized look of the room when you wake up this morning.

The scent of fried eggs flow toward your nostrils as you try to prop yourself on your elbow. You’ve been sleeping on the couch, it’s easier to go to the bathroom, and this morning someone is cooking breakfast. It’s not hard to guess who it is…

Miguel must have heard your body shifting under the blankets because he leaves the kitchen with a tray of food, and the dread medications, to make his way to you. He puts down the tray down the coffee table and kneels in front of you, a concerned look on his face. You wonder if you had talked in your dreams. Would it even make sense given your current state?

“How do you feel this morning?”, he asks and you can’t help but reply with a small smile:

“Wonderful.” This doesn’t sound very convincing and his pout makes you chuckle.

Oh, the self-control this moment asks for him. There’s this small curl that hangs on your forehead and that he wants to brush away; those dimples that got him weak in the knees...And yet, he simply shakes his head again before handing you the glass of water and your pills. Your expression shifts to one of disgust, your nose wrinkling slightly.

“You have to take this.”, he says in a slightly amused smile. You reluctantly grab the pill and swallows it. The bitter taste makes you wince and he can’t help but chuckle as he brings the glass to your lips.

His hand instinctively holds the back of your head, propping you up slightly from your pillows. He watches your throat bobbing up and down as you drink, visibly thirsty after that night. Water wets your lips and he finds himself looking at them again. It’s his throat that feels dry now.

“Perfect.”, he whispers in a voice that is a bit raspier than usually before taking the glass away. His fingers still apply a gentle pressure on the back of your head. It’s a comforting sensation, just the way your mother would do when you were sick.

“Do you still take the medications I brought you?”, he asks and you slowly nod. Even if those things are disgusting, you still manage to take them. A small smile flashes upon his lips and he finally helps you lying back the couch.

“What about you?”

“What do you mean?”, he replies with his eyebrows raised.

“How do you feel this morning?”, it’s too early for him to be there. And yet, here he is, already dressed up and ready to help like some guardian angel. He only replies with a small smile:

“I’m feeling better.”

Days go by slowly since you are stuck in bed (or rather the couch), doing nothing but sleeping. It’s not that you didn’t try working, but your eyes simply close after a few sentences as you are dragged into sleep. The only thing that rhythms your days are Miguel’s visits. He is always there in the morning, making breakfast and making sure you take your pills. And in the evening, he comes back home after his day to help you making dinner, also checking on your father.

Home. You have the feeling that he treats your place like his second home, and for some reason it doesn’t bother you. There’s something comforting into knowing that you will always end up seeing him at the end of the day. You’ve stopped living with someone since your last break up and you always thought it wasn’t for you, sharing a domestic space, relying on someone else to do the chores… But Miguel is quite convincing in the role of a caretaker. No wonder the town is grateful for him to be their local doctor.

You finally assumed that he must be living alone since he spends so much time with you and your father. There’s no way someone is waiting for him at home when he is always outside. And you don’t know how you should feel about this.

But one morning, Miguel isn’t here. This fact makes you feel like someone has dropped a heavy rock down your stomach. The house feels...empty. After contemplating the silence for multiple minutes, you finally wake up. Your legs are a bit wobbly but you can tell the medications he has been providing you have an effect on your health. If only they could have on on your sleep schedule…

It’s almost noon when Miguel finally arrives and to your surprise, he looks like he has been in a rush all morning. For the first time since you know him, he looks less like the proper perfect son-in-law look he is always opting for, and more like what he is. An overworked man. He is not wearing one of his usual suits but a simple black outfit, with sweatpants and an oversize flannel. He has traded his lenses for thick frame glasses and he barely had the time to shave, leaving his face covered in a scruff.

He huffs the moment he sees you’re awake and up. But he doesn’t comment; you’re stubborn for sure. Instead he simply slops down the nearest chair, in silence. He just nods to thank you when you put a cup of coffee in front of him. You resume what you were doing, -ie cooking a decent meal, trying to ignore his gaze on you.

“It smells nice.”, he finally says while you stir something in the pan. Your movements are slow since you still seem tired but he can’t tear his gaze away.

“Oh it’s nothing. Just a quick dish I used to make when I was in college.”

He doesn’t reply immediately. College… It’s been so long since he thought about his own years in college. Like it all belongs in an other life. Sometimes he can’t help but thin that there was a before and an after in his life.

“Can I help you?”, he finally asks and just like he expected, you shake your head.

“You should rest a bit. Seems like you had a rough night…”

“I had a night shift at the clinic.” You can’t believe he still works this late at night at his age. No wonder he looks so tired. Miguel passes a hand over his face in a tired gesture before sighing:

“We had an emergency this morning, around 4, that’s why I couldn’t come earlier…”

“Are you trying to apologize?”, you ask with your hands on your hips. “There’s no need to, Miguel.”

The corner of his lips tug into a small grin and he leans back into his chair, as if the weight of something heavy had rested too long on his shoulders: “I promised you I’d be here every morning…”

“Miguel…”, you start with a quiet voice, “I know what it’s like, having a demanding job and all. In fact your job is even more demanding than mine. So, I’m not going to blame you for fulfilling your duty.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, a small grin still lingering on his lips as he listens to your small rant.

“And as I told you, I’m perfectly capable of doing all of this by my own.” You didn’t mean to sound this harsh but it seems like he doesn’t take any offense in this. However, you feel a bit awkward bringing this up again. It’s been a few days since you talked about this and you were planning to apologize for your behavior, not making things worse…

“Sounds like you got your spirit back.”, he simply says, still amused.

“I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better enough to put me back in my place.”

You gruff and his grin only widens. He can hear you mumble something under your breath, something like “I wasn’t trying to put you back in your place…”. And for some reason, this little banter makes him forget every agonizing minute of his night. He gets up and walks toward you, leans against the counter and watches you cooking.

“I mean it, you know. If I ever overstep your boundaries, you need to tell me. I’ve already been told I can be too...paternalistic. Trust me, I won’t take it poorly coming from you.”

The sound of the food frying in the pan is the only thing that can be heard for a few seconds as you try to make the best out of what he said. You wouldn’t call him paternalistic. In fact, he makes you think more of a mother figure than a father. A very protective mother. You finally sigh:

“I just don’t want to take advantage of your kindness.”

This was unexpected for him and he replies in a soft voice:

“You’re not taking advantage of anything.”

“You must think I’m incompetent.” This confession took him even more by surprise. And when you look away, his hand gently grabs yours, making you look back in his direction:

“That’s the last thing I’ve been thinking about you.”

He wishes he could take a picture of this moment of grace. Your dainty hand rests in his larger palm while the soft morning light makes your skin glow in a way he could only qualify of ethereal… Against his better judgment his grip on your fingers tightens and he adds in a quiet voice:

“I’ve heard a lot about you. And I can’t believe that there is a more accomplished, talented and hard-working woman out there.”

You really wanted to believe him; it sounded so tempting and nice. But a small part of you still thought he must be mistaking you for someone else. There’s no way he heard all these sweet things from your father. You have been nothing but a disappointment these last five years, struggling, stuck in what he considered a mediocre job, single and childless… You didn’t accomplish anything that would grant you this type of compliments. And yet, Miguel’s words sounded so sincere.

“You’re just flattering me at this point.”, you reply with a small smile.

“I’m not.” His voice was laced with solemnity. A lump had formed in his throat and he found it harder to say anything else. But he knew he would have loved showing you what true flattering, real praise was like…

Miguel finally let go of your hands and you caught his fingers flexing slightly, all stretched out as he brought them back to his side. The silence that followed this moment, moment that you didn’t dare to put a name on, was heavier it seems; charged with many untold words. Finally you were the one breaking the silence:

“You can set the table if you want.”

A bright smile curled up his lips as he replied: “I’m always glad to help.”

=============================================

Notes: Today's chapter is a bit slower but I can guarantee you things will move forward soon for our two protagonists...

Taglist: @safixiovi @laysmt

My Master list

<part 4 / next part >

[katsukinq]

Here’s a draft of my most recent story that I’ve been working on titled: Dangerously Yours! I’m excited to post this and see what people think of it! This isn’t the final version of the chapter, but I wanted to post this draft anyway. I hope you guys enjoy reading this first chapter!

~~~

You always enjoyed taking things apart and putting them back together from a young age. This is how you landed your dream job as a mechanic for the all-famous Fazbear’s Inc. You worked in one of their few facilities, building and fixing parts for animatronics. You and your co-workers specifically produced spare parts for the animatronics, they were then shipped off to Freddy Fazbears Mega Pizzaplex. You couldn’t even begin to count how many staff bot parts you’ve made for the place, how do they keep breaking? You decided to ignore the large claw marks on the destroyed staff bots that were sent back for salvaging.

You take pride in your job, seeing as you were paid generously. But most importantly, you took pride in being able to play your part in creating actual artificial beings. You just wish you were able to meet them. It was hard not to get absorbed into your work which is why you didn’t notice your boss calling your name until you felt a light tapping on your shoulder, jerking you from your trance. You looked up from the white chica arm you were currently working on and smiled sheepishly at the culprit.

“Sorry… I didn’t see you there,” You say quietly with an awkward laugh.

“It's fine, I just need to talk to you in my office real quick,” Your boss waved it off, giving you a smile.

She then turned around and motioned for you to follow. You stand up nervously and fall in step behind her. Was something wrong? Did you do something wrong? Your palms became sweaty at the thought of being fired as you inch closer to the office door. Once inside, your boss sits down on her sleek black office chair, gesturing for you to sit in the seat across from her. You sat down quietly, fidgeting with your hands.

“Alright..” She begins, reaching into one of her desk drawers and pulling out a beige file, piquing your interest.

“I called you in here because I have a job offer that I believe suits your expertise,” She says matter-of-factly, handing you the file.

Oh so you weren’t being fired, you exhaled. You let out a quiet thanks before opening the file and examining its contents. The papers inside contained multiple blueprints, you recognize, of the Pizzaplex’s daycare attendant. From what you know, this particular animatronic has been around for a couple years now. You’ve even had the privilege of making a few parts for it. You look up at your boss curiously, closing the file and letting it rest on your lap.

“Are you wanting me to make more parts for the daycare attendant?” You questioned, thinking maybe this was her weird way of asking.

Your boss shook her head. “No, this is something more complicated. Fazbear’s Inc. requested our facility to send one of our most experienced workers to decommission the daycare attendant.”

“Decommission? Is something wrong with it?” You ask, completely overlooking the indirect compliment.

“It's not that there's anything wrong, per se. Fazbear Inc. is just planning on closing down the Superstar Daycare for major sanitation reasons. At least that's what they disclosed to me. They’re going to be replacing the area with some brand-spankin’ new attraction related to the Glamrocks. Kids rather visit the main four, ya’ know?” She explains, shrugging her shoulders.

“Pardon me for speaking out, but that artificial robot must’ve cost a ton of money in the making. I’m finding it hard to believe Fazbear’s Inc. would just decommission the thing rather than repurpose it.” You say in disbelief.

The situation feels unrealistic to you. Who would just throw away an artificial intelligent robot, simply because it doesn’t have a certain area in the plex anymore? Your boss leans forward on her desk, hands intertwined and resting under her chin.

“Now I'm just going off of what I've heard, this might just be a rumor,” She says in a whisper-like voice, glancing down at the file.

“I’ve been told that an employee over at the Mega Pizza Plex had witnessed the Daycare attendant starting to act out of character, specifically around nap time or lights out. It’s been told the robot has taken on a more violent personality in the dark. The employee said it was a glitch in their system, but it hasn’t been confirmed.”

“Oh… Well, this project shouldn't take more than a week,” you say, standing up with the file in hand.

That's too bad, you never got to meet the bot. Maybe you would have even taken a crack at the supposed glitch in its system.

Your boss stops you by holding up her hand. “Here's the catch, this is going to be more of a long-term project for you,” She says, making you tilt your head in question.

“Recently the daycare attendant’s handler quit, meaning they have no one to watch over it and its maintenance,” She pauses, “seeing as you're going to be decommissioning it anyway, Fazbear Inc. thought it would be a good idea to send you there early to take place as its handler.” You nod, soaking in the information.

You could easily fix the bot up, sure, but a handler? Babysitting the babysitter?

“As its handler, you’ll be essentially watching over the daycare attendant and helping it do its job watching over the kids in the daycare.” You freeze at this. Kids weren’t exactly your forte. Before you can mention this, she begins speaking again.

“I know watching over children isn’t what you signed up for, which is why Fazbear Inc. is offering to pay you double what the usual handler makes. In addition, you’ll still be earning money for decommissioning the daycare attendant at the end.” That would give you enough money to look for a better apartment, you ponder, maybe even buy a house.

“The daycare closes two to three months from now. All we need is your approval and we’ll have you starting as early as Monday. If you don’t accept, we’ll pass this offer on to one of your co-workers.” She states, sliding a contract toward you. You sat there in silence for a moment.

“I’ll do it,” You say, making her crack a smile.

True you weren’t the best with kids, but the pay was so good that you’d be insane to pass on the offer. It's not like you’ll be there for too long anyway. You grab the pen resting on the contract and sign your name in the designated area.

“Alrighty, I’ll send Fazbear Inc. the news. You should receive your new uniform in the mail.” She smiles.

“So–I uh, start this Monday?” You question.

“Yep, Monday! You’ll receive an email full of instructions. Oh, and don’t worry about your workstation, we’ll have your co-workers finish up your incomplete projects for you,” Your boss says, standing up and walking over to the door.

You give your thanks and quietly make your exit, feeling as if you signed your life away to monstrous children.

—

That upcoming Monday, the nerves were eating at you. It felt as if it were your first day of school again. You slipped on your uniform that consisted of a white button-up shirt, and a black tie–which you choose to set aside–paired with black slacks. You picked up your Freddy Fazbear themed duffel bag that was packed with your lunch, water bottle, and essentials.

Feeling as if everything was in place, you refilled your cat's bowl and gave him a last pet goodbye. You shakingly grabbed your keys and made your way to your new, but temporary, job.

—

When you arrived at the already packed parking lot, you quickly located the employee parking area. Even though the Plex wouldn’t open until about an hour from now, people eagerly lined up at the entrance, hoping to get a headstart before the crowd. You spotted a colorful-looking sign in front of one of the few spots and what looked like it was written in bright red marker were the words, “Superstar Daycare Employee Parking!” You internally cringed at the childishness of it, but parked your car there anyway.

Once you walked in through the employee entrance, you quickly found yourself thrown into a world of blinding neon lights. Your nose was infiltrated with the smell of greasy pizza and the food court wasn’t even close! You pulled out the map that was mailed to you along with your uniform and groaned at the sight of complicated paths intertwining across the paper.

Eventually, you located the daycare area and you scanned your ID to lift the huge garage-like door that separated you from the Superstar Daycare. Immediately you were met with the sight of two large golden statues. It displayed two lanky figures, one having a face full of rays and the other a simple nightcap. You recognized the two robots from the blueprints that were now tucked into your duffel bag. A smile crept onto your face at the sight of the cool designs and you wondered if they looked like their statues. Except not slathered in gold.

You examined the slide entrance, your inner child tempting you to slide down it face-first. That was until you looked beyond it and saw it would lead you into a germ-infested ball pit. Your nose scrunched up in disgust and you turned toward the nearby staircase to make your descent. You soon spotted a set of huge wooden doors with an employee scanner right next to it.

When you got through the huge doors, your eyes roamed around the huge area. There were big colorful playsets for children to crawl through, maybe even get lost in. In one of the corners was a craft area with tons of drawings plastered to the walls. In the opposite corner, a huge tent decorated with stars occupied the area. In front of its entrance though, were stacked tables and toy bins, blocking the area off. You shrugged and looked on. Other than the ball pit, the place looked fairly clean for a daycare. The place must have a good clean-up crew. You eyed the balcony for a second, but you assumed it didn’t lead anywhere. You looked to the left of the entrance and found the security desk that awaited you.

This would’ve been easier to find twenty minutes ago if you had a guide, but no. They gave you a confusing map and a slap on the back. You sat your duffel bag under the desk and situated yourself onto the desk chair. Propping your face up with your hand, you pondered over what was supposed to happen next. You looked at the clock on the computer and sighed. The daycare didn’t open for a good half-hour.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when the shout of laughter rang throughout the daycare. Your eyes instantly landed on the balcony hanging high above the ballpit and you spotted a familiar tall lanky robot emerge from behind the red curtains. It resembled the golden statue with rays from the entrance, you realize. It bent its knees and its hands came together in a diving position.

And then it jumped.

Into the ball pit.

You jumped from your seat and rushed towards the ballpit. Were you gonna have to repair the thing already on your first day? Did the Plex even keep a spare tool kit in the Daycare? Stopping at the edge, you peered over at the mass amount of colorful plastic balls, looking for any signs of the yellow animatronic.

Your search was cut short when all of a sudden it popped up directly in your face, just mere inches from touching your skin, greeting you with a loud ‘hello.’

You immediately stumbled backward, your foot tripping over a stray toy making you fall onto your ass. All too soon, the robot was kneeling down beside you, sputtering out apologies here and there. You sat up with a groan, rubbing your now sore butt. You looked up and locked eyes with the white-eyed robot, finally starting to register what it was spurring on about.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, no! Never!” It let out, fumbling his hands.

“It's… It’s alright, I just didn’t expect you to pop out of nowhere, let alone jump off a balcony.” You say, standing up whilst emitting an awkward laugh. You dusted off your pants, having a hard time meeting the bot's intense gaze.

“It's nice to meet you daycare attendant, I’m going to be your new handler from now on.” You give your name, holding out a hand to it.

It simply stared at your extended gesture, tilting its head to the side. It then shot up to its full height and holy shit it was tall. If you had to guess, you’d say it stood at a good Seven feet. The bot disregarded your hand, beginning to talk again with its chipper tone.

“Oh silly thing, my name is not ‘Daycare attendant!’” it laughs, making you fluster in embarrassment. “I’m Sun, but the children tend to call me all sorts of nicknames! There’s Sun, Sundrop, Sunray, Sunny, and so much more!” Its rays spun enthusiastically.

You were starting to catch on to the theme it had going on. The documents you were given always referred to the robot strictly as the daycare attendant. If only they would’ve told you its name beforehand to save you from your current humiliation.

“Sorry about that Sun,” You awkwardly rubbed the back of your neck.

“All is forgiven! Now, I’m required to teach you the basics of the daycare, Shall we begin?”

“That would be great,” You smile.

So far your first impression of the robot is outstanding, It speaks so human-like and it seems to have adapted its own personality! You couldn’t find a single thing wrong with it, which nagged at you further.

The next ten minutes consisted of you both running through the list of rules enforced in the daycare. Sun mainly emphasized rule number one, keep the lights on unless it’s nap time. This made your mind wander back to what your boss had told you before you accepted this position. What if the rumors were true?

Apart from the rules, you were also filled in on how you’d be able to assist the bot with the children. You almost couldn’t keep up with how fast Sun was unpacking everything on you, Fazbear’s Inc. sure made Sun fairly energetic.

—

It was exactly three minutes before the Mega Pizza Plex opened, meaning the oncoming wave of children was rapidly approaching. You could practically taste the disdain in your mouth.

Sun called your name, causing you to turn your head to look at it. “I know it's your first day, and you must be nervous… but! I thought it’d be good for you to check in the children today, instead of you standing to the side and watching me.” It clapped its hands together.

Its words settled in like a punch to the gut. “Sun- erm. We haven’t even gone over how to check in a child.” You reason, your hands gripping at your pants.

Before Sun could respond, a child who looked no older than eight ran through the daycare entrance. Who you assumed to be his dad trailed slowly after him. You looked to Sun anxiously, not sure what to do next.

“I’ll check in the first child so you’ll have an idea of what to do! You're gonna have it down in no time Sunshine!” Sunshine? Where’d that come from? You nod.

The little boy stopped once he was right in front of Sun, looking at the robot with a big toothy grin.

“Hello friend, it’s so good to see you again!” Sun halved It’s height so as to not intimidate the child.

“I want to play! Can I!?” The kid hurriedly let out.

“First you have to check in Sam, you know the deal!” Sun addressed the boy.

The dad finally reached where his son was, taking his wallet out to fetch out his Superstar Daycare ID. Once in his grasp, the man held out the card to Sun which the animatronic simply stared at.

After a few seconds, the bot twitched. “All done! Here's your wristband, friend!” Sun said, putting a sun-themed wristband around the child's wrist.

As soon as Sun’s hands left the kid, Sam let out happy hollers before running straight past Sun, disappearing into one of the many tunnels connecting to the play structures. The man let out a huff of air and put his wallet back in his pocket. He gave you a nod before turning around and exiting, presumably heading off to work. You gave Sun a questioning look, wondering what the hell just happened.

“How’d you check Sam in?” You say, confusion written in your voice.

“Oh, I’m so so sorry dear! I forgot to tell you” Another nickname? It sure is friendly.

“When the parent presented his Superstar Daycare card, I scanned the barcode on it with my internal scanners. This is so I can check if the parent or guardian is in the database. Of course, you’ll be using the handheld scanner. ” Sun said, motioning to a black scanner that was laid on top of the check-in desk.

“You’ll also check to see if the parent/guardian matches what's on the child's profile! If the child is a newcomer, they should have already filled out their information before coming to the Superstar Daycare! You can leave the confused people to me though, sunshine!” Sun finished clasping it’s hands together excitedly.

“What about the wristbands, does that determine anything important?” You look over at Sam who has managed to already crawl his way to the top floor of the play structure.

“Oh, those are very important, yes. Every child that signs into the daycare is required to wear a wristband to ensure they are all accounted for. If a child manages to slip out of the daycare–which has never happened under our watchful gaze, of course–a staff member can spot the wristband and help the child find its way back to the daycare!” The ‘our’ catches your attention, but it might just be a glitch in its voice box.

You bring a finger up to rest beneath your chin. “That's actually a very smart system, I didn’t expect the Plex to think everything to the last detail.” You smile.

“A-actually! It was one of the animatronics that came up with it!” Sun interrupts. The capabilities of AI never cease to amaze you.

Before you could respond, another parent walked in, practically dragging her daughter behind her. The woman was dressed in a fancy business suit, one of her hands holding a phone to her ear—which would explain what she was yelling at. You gave Sun a nervous look. In return, it gave you a thumbs up. How reassuring. Once the woman stopped in front of the desk, you quickly grabbed the handheld scanner.

“H-Hello and welcome to Superstar Daycare” You stammer, causing the woman to raise an eyebrow, “are you here for check-in?”

She excuses herself to the person on the phone, making eye contact with you. “Yes, I’m dropping off my daughter. Let me get my ID.” The woman said, hanging up her phone before digging a hand in her purse to fetch her daycare-themed card.

She soon pulled out her ID and you held up the scanner to it, hearing a beep not long after. You look at the computer and see the child's profile pop up. You glance over the assigned guardian, recognizing the mom in the picture. You then click the green check-in button and it emits a ding sound.

“You're all good to go! Here's your wristband.” You place the paper bracelet around the little girls wrist. “You're free to go.” The child ran in screaming–which Sun thankfully put a stop to soon after. You turned back to the lady to find she had her phone to her ear again and she was already storming out the exit.

Well, that wasn’t so bad, I mean no mess ups right? You give Sun a large smile, which it returns with a brighter one. You then hear an “ahem” from behind you, causing you to turn around.

Before you laid an increasing line of parents holding onto their restless children, ready to be checked in.

Oh god.

—

About an hour or so passed when the check-in line finally cleared up. You felt a sense of pride looking at the now empty line, you did well on your first day. There were no upset parents and you only made minor mistakes, like forgetting to put a wristband on a few children.

You walked behind the security desk, looking at Sun who had children attempting to climb all over its frame like a jungle gym. You could vaguely hear the bot's worried cries when a child almost slipped off. Your hand came up to cover your small chuckle, not wanting to be caught laughing. Sun’s frame twitched, peeking over its shoulder to look back at you with its permanent smile.

It then turned to the children, crouching even lower than usual. You could tell it was whispering to the kids about something with the way the children's faces began to light up with glee. And then they whipped their faces towards you, a young girl stepping forward, leading a few kids in front of the security desk.

“What's up, little one,” You ask casually, trying not to take a glance at Sun who stood a few feet away, suspiciously rocking back and forth, whistling to the daycare tune.

“Please play hide and seek with us! Please, please!” The young girl pleaded, clasping her hands together. The stray kids behind her nodded along, copying her puppy eyes.

“I’m not any good at that game, you wouldn’t want me slowing you guys down.”

“Why, Sunshine! I think you’ll be amazing, the kids and I won’t judge you one bit!” Sun piped in, swaying side to side.

Well, it's not like you could avoid children your entire shift, might as well give them what they want before any of them breaks out into a tantrum.

“Alright, I’ll play a round or two with you guys, but don’t blame me if I’m not any good,” You laugh.

The children loudly shouted out cheers and excited laughs as you stepped out from behind the desk. Sun’s rays spun happily and without touching you, it ushered you to the center of the playmats where the other children waited. You rested a hand on your arm, slowly rubbing it up and down awkwardly as kids continuously stared up at you. Once every child who wanted to play joined the circle, Sun clapped its hands together excitedly.

“Now that everyone's here, we can begin. Who wants to be it?” Sun asked, looking around the group of children. Immediately a little girl shot up her hand, repeatedly volunteering herself.

“Then it's settled, little Rachel here will be our brave seeker!” Sun announced, picking her up in its arms as she laughed. “Does everyone remember the rules when we play hide and seek?” A couple of children nodded, some newcomers shaking their heads.

“It's simple. No fighting over spots, no cheating, you have to stay in the daycare, and you most surely can’t go behind the security desk. But the most important thing is to have fun!” Sun's rays did a spin, you had realized it did that every time it was excited or happy. It was endearing almost.

Sun set Rachel down. “Ok Rachel, are you ready?” She nodded, “great! Close your eyes and count to sixty for me and then we can begin.” Was it weird you could hear the smile in its voice?

Rachel quickly shut her eyes, even putting her hands over her face. “One…Two...” She began, causing kids to quickly scurry about in search of a hiding spot. You gave the daycare a quick look over, your eyes landing on the ball pit. You assume it's deep enough to sink into and the plastic balls would provide good cover, but… yuck. You shook your head grimly at the thought and made your descent into one of the play structures.

You crawled through as fast as you could, it didn’t help that you were a full-grown adult inside a structure made for small children. You passed a few snickering children on the way, but you chose to ignore them, you had a spot to find after all. You could hear Rachel's counting reaching its end and you quickly chose to hide inside one of the plastic tubes with no windows. You let yourself lay down, groaning at what the slouching did to your back. Lucky little beasts, they’re able to fit through these structures easily.

After Rachel had begun counting, Sun had quickly disappeared from your view. You pondered over where it went. Sun’s a abnormally tall robot, so it’ll for sure be one of the first caught. You doubt it could even crawl through the play structures like you had just done.

As you stared up at the plastic tube’s ceiling, your thought process was interrupted by a familiar little girl's giggle. You attempt to sit up and see Rachel standing behind you, a finger pointing straight at your form.

“I found you!” She exclaimed, a few children she had caught were grouped behind her.

You smile. “Good job, I was hoping you’d find me soon.” which was true, you wanted out of the tight play structure. Next time you join a game of hide and seek, you're for sure gonna avoid them.

“Help me find Mr.Sun, please! He’s that last one!” Rachel said, grabbing ahold of your hand. You almost got a rubber burn trying to keep up with her as she dragged you out of the play structure. How come the kids haven’t found it yet? There's no way Sun is last. You checked all the kids that had been found and realized they were all accounted for. Well then.

You and the kids checked all over, behind structures, inside toy chests, and even behind the security desk in case Sun was cheating. You stood around dumbfounded for a minute, disbelief written on your face. That is until you saw movement in the corner of your eye. You turned to the ball pit and saw what looked like a yellow tiny shark fin poking up from beneath the layer of balls. You almost laughed at your stupidity. Of course, something as big as Sun would fit in there. You slapped a hand on your forehead and snickered at Sun’s moving ray which looked like a shark fin in a sea of plastic balls.

“I found you Sun,” You managed to say as you laughed at the absurdity of it all. Sun lifted half its faceplate, revealing only its eyes which stared right at you. OK, now Sun was just being cute. You quickly paused at the thought and shook it off. You extend your hand out to Sun, offering to help it out of the ball pit. Sun’s eyes looked down at your hand and kept on staring. You're sure it could easily get out on its own, but you wanted to be as kind as it’s been to you.

Sun reluctantly shifted a few steps closer to you, slowly reaching its hand out to yours. You swear you can see Sun’s hands shaking as it’s hand connected with yours. You smile almost sadly at it before tugging back. It helped that it supported its own weight and got up without too much struggle.

You don’t ask about the shaking, but you do have a few thoughts about it. Sun was less willing to physically touch you than the children. Was it like that with only adults? Did something happen to make it like that, or is it just programming?

Sun stared down at you, hand fidgeting by its sides. The children rushing toward it were able to snap Sun back to the present and it quickly accepted the children's tackles.

“You all make amazing seekers! You were even able to find me!” Sun happily said, stroking the kid's tiny egos. The sight made you smile and you chose not to ponder over your last few thoughts.

—

It's been a couple hours since your shift had started and already your feet were hurting. Ever since the game of hide and seek, you have been continuously interacting with kids. A part of you wanted to talk with Sun, but it was occupied with handfuls of children. There were a couple children that acted out, but Sun stepped in before you could do anything, which you gave the animatronic a grateful smile for.

Now you sit behind the security desk, allowing your body to relax a bit before you're thrown back into chaos. You groaned as you leaned back in the chair. Hopefully, the next few days won’t be as restless as this one. You noticed the children's movements began to slow down, most gathering around Sun. You leaned forward in your chair, trying to hear what was going on.

“It’s time to settle down now friends, we have to go ahead and get our mats out! Everyone to the cubbies,” Sun ushered, leading the line of groaning children.

You got up to follow behind, hoping to ask Sun what's going on. When the line came to a stop, kids were being handed sleeping mats one at a time by Sun who was grabbing them off their respective shelves. You also noticed a stack of blankets on a lower shelf.

You step around children and approach Sun. “What’s going on? Is this some kind of activity?”

“I suppose you could call sleeping an activity.” Oh, you see where this is going, “It’s naptime sweet thing!” Of course, there's a nap time. It is a daycare after all! How could you forget? You almost laugh at your stupidity, but instead, you grab a handful of blankets to pass out.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, I-I’m quite exceptional!” Sun nervously jittered. Was it programmed to be this anxious?

“I got this Sun,” you say assuringly, “I want to help out after all.” And with that you turned away from the tall robot, heading over to a group of kids sitting on their mats, ready to receive their blankets.

Once every kid had their mats and blankets, you looked up at the bright beaming lights. How were they supposed to nap if the lights were blaring down on them? You looked around for Sun, wondering where it went off to. As you did though, the lights shut off, sounding off a sound similar to a generator powering down. You blinked a couple times, your vision having a hard time adjusting to the sudden change. As you rubbed your eyes, you heard a deep cackle somewhere above you. Your head shot up towards the ceiling, spotting two red pinpricks in the sky… flying?

It landed gracefully without making a noise and stood in the middle of the children who were eagerly greeting the thing. Was it Sun? Did it always put on some kind of show when the lights went out? You inch closer to the kid's soft murmurs, the animatronics' deep voice can be heard over them. When you were close enough to make out its figure, you realized something. That's not Sun. I mean, the body shape looked the same, yes, but its color scheme was completely new to you, and there weren’t any rays–instead, there was a nightcap littered with stars.

You stepped closer, your foot making a sound as you got closer. This made the animatronic’s head do a full 180, its body still facing the other way. Its red eyes pierced through you, a glare apparent on its face as the robot brought a finger up to its permanent smile. It then pointed behind you, at the security desk. Oh ok. Getting the hint, you swiftly turned around and quietly made your way behind the security desk, still looking over to where the animatronic sat.

It was then that you heard a music box turn on, the song ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ emitting from the bot. Okay now that was cool, how did you overlook that in the blueprints? You feel the lack of sleep pull at you, the music sounding way too relaxing. You slide down in your chair and lean back a bit and—against your own will—close your eyes.

It wasn’t until minutes after the music ceased that your eyes fluttered open. That's right, you're still on the job. You can sleep when you get home. When your eyes fully opened, you noticed you were surrounded by a red glow. Looking at the cause of it, you pause and go to let out a gasp until a cold metal hand clamped over your mouth.

“If you wake even a single child, I’ll make sure you are punished.” The night animatronic growled slowly. You nodded slowly, a little creeped out by the thing. It didn’t sound like Sun, that's for sure.

“Sun..? Is that you,” You ask, feeling awkward about how it wouldn’t stop staring at you.

“While the Sun is away, the Moon gets to play,” It responded rhythmically, its head turning to the side.

“Is that your name? …Moon?” It nodded. You see the celestial theme going on here, it's pretty clever actually.

“So where’d Sun go?” You look around again, just to make sure. It tapped on its head. “Inside.”

It took you a moment of thinking before you got the gist. “You guys share a body?” It gave you a look that said, ‘Oh really?’

“That– that's really cool actually,” You quietly laugh.

“You don’t belong here.” Your laugh comes to a sudden halt, “go away.”

You won’t lie when your heart sinks a bit. Yeah, this thing is definitely not Sun, this guy is rude. “I work here, I can’t exactly drop everything and leave.”

It scoffs at you. “I’ve seen through Sun how unfit for this role you are, you can’t even begin to keep up with Sun.” It jabbed at you. You turn your head away from its gaze. You didn't know how to respond to the insults.

“Go away.” It repeated.

Your stomach grumbled right after, signaling your lack of food. “I guess I should, huh?” You whisper back at the bot.

You weren’t gonna let it hurt your feelings. You stood up with a slight frown and grabbed your duffel bag from underneath the desk.

“I’ll take my lunch for now, but I will be back when Sun is out.” You state, making Moon scowl.

You didn’t wait for a response and headed out the large wooden doors. Once you were seated at one of the many dining tables in the atrium you whipped out your prepared sandwich and bottled water. As you ate, you thought over your day so far. Sun was a really nice robot, and its personality could easily be fooled for a person. You won’t admit it, but the sunshiny daycare attendant was growing on you. Maybe with time, you’d feel the same about Moon.

You shake your head. No, you can’t allow them to grow on you. It’ll just make completing your project harder.

—

You had long since returned to the daycare, having been greeted by an enthusiastic Sun who was happy to see you. Currently, It was now around closing time—thankfully. You didn’t know how much more you could take. When you finally handed off the last child to their respected parent, your shoulders slumped. It felt good knowing there were no more children left to terrorize you. You look to Sun and see it was picking up each and every toy and storing them away in the multiple toy chests. Wanting to help out, you gathered up some toys that were scattered across the floor and walked over to where Sun was dumping its handful of plushies.

“My, shouldn’t you be on your way home?” Sun asks, closing the now full chest.

“Yeah, but I can’t just leave you with all this cleaning, it wouldn’t be right,” you yawned, putting the plushies in a toy bin.

“You're very insistent on helping little ol’ me, aren’t you?” It asks. “I don’t mind, it’s just that earlier handlers of mine would leave me with all the grunt work—unless asked of course.”

“Personally, I don’t think that's right. I’m not trying to shame them or anything, but it’s common courtesy to lend a helping hand, even if it’s not asked of you.”

“Why, you're just a doll!” Sun's rays spin. It crouched in front of you so its faceplate is at level with your face. “But I must say, You look very tired. And- and you’ve been occasionally yawning ever since you’ve gotten back from your break.” It observes.

“I think it’d be best if you went home and got some rest. I’m perfectly capable of cleaning this place top to bottom! I’ve been doing so for forever now.” Sun says, Its hands fumbling.

“Wait wait wait,” you pause, “I thought there was a clean-up crew or something, doesn’t the Pizza Plex have any janitors?”

“That's what the staff bots are for! Of course, they're not able to climb through play structures or head on into the ball pit with those wheels they travel on.” Sun placed a hand under its non-existent chin. So it can fit in the play structures. “That’s where I come in, I was made to be quite flexible in order to give children the best play experience! Naturally, I can get into those nooks and crannies, no biggie. It does give me something to do while the Plex is closed.”

You can’t imagine how long it must take for Sun to clean the entire daycare all by its lonesome, it only made your resolve stronger. You instantly headed towards the storage closet within the daycare, leaving Sun behind you confused. You collected a bottle of disinfectant and a rag. You emerged from the closet, Sun's eyes locking in on you. The lanky robot stood there speechless. What could possibly be going on in that head of yours?

You stopped a few feet away from Sun and gave the robot a determined smile. “How about this, I promise you I'll be able to get a full eight hours of sleep IF you allow me to keep you company.” Sun visibly flinched, It really was surprised with almost everything you did. The animatronic silently nodded, turning around to collect the remainder of the strewn toys.

After a while of scrubbing at smudges and stains, you begin to get annoyed with the daycare theme song. You’d been listening to it non-stop this whole time with the exception of nap time. How Sun can withstand listening to the same song day in and day out is beyond you. Why was it still playing after closing anyway?

“Hey Sun,” you call out, distracting Sun from its endeavor of cleaning up the craft area.

“Yes sunshine?” It replies, its faceplate spinning to the opposite side of its body to face you. Just like Moon, you noted.

“Is there anything else we could listen to rather than the usual daycare music? It’s nice and all, but it gets insufferable after a while.” You ask.

“Sorry to disappoint you sunshine, but the daycare speakers were programmed to only play this one song,” If it could frown, you're sure Sun would right about now.

“Is there a chance that aux or Bluetooth may work?”

Sun perks up at this. “I suppose Bluetooth would work, are you wanting to hook your device up to it?” You nod.

“Fine, but I ask that you don’t play any inappropriate music, it would taint my poor ears.” It said, a hand dramatically coming up to its forehead dramatically.

You snicker at its display. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sunny.”

You quickly search through available devices to connect to in your settings as you sit next to Sun who peered over your shoulder. Although Sun remained close, it never touched you. If you shift a certain way, Sun would inch back.

Sun then pointed to a random device you could connect to, claiming that was the one. You hear a ding come from the speakers over you, confirming the connection. You stand up and load up one of those YouTube Lives that streams non-stop Lo-fi music. It was something you would listen to if you were busy doing something–like cleaning!

Sun clapped its hands. “This is delightful sunshine! It’s very new.” It said, picking up a clean rag and spray to join you in your scrubbing journey.

Throughout the whole cleaning process, you and Sun exchanged stories, jokes, and whatnot. Sun’s memory capacity was a true treasure, It could date back to when it first booted up! You laugh together and just have a good time honestly. It made you look forward to tomorrow, minus the children.

“You know, you really are a fascinating AI. When I talk to you, I feel like I’m talking to a person,” You smile, pausing your scrubbing.

Sun looked at you, its inner fans kicking up. “Dear, you flatter me!” Sun laughs, fanning its face for extra effect. Seriously, why would Fazbears Inc. want to scrap this robot, It’d be a much better investment to repurpose it!

Sun sat down its rag and took yours from you as well. “That's enough cleaning, the daycare looks spick and span!” It says, throwing the rags into a dirty laundry hamper located inside the storage closet. You helped by putting the sprays back on their respective shelf. You’d hate to leave now, especially with how much fun you were having with Sun.

It spun on its heels to face you. “Let's play a game of hide and seek!” Sun encouraged.

“Again? But we already played that earlier.”

It tuts and shakes its head. “It won’t be the same as last time. Now it’ll be just you and me.” Sun says in a giddy tone.

Well if it meant delaying your departure. “Sure.”

Without a further response, Sun threw its hands over its pale white eyes. It can’t close its eyes after all. It then started counting down from sixty, causing you to frantically start looking for a spot. You looked at the play structure and shuddered. Never again. You race toward the storage closet that was left open. Looking around, you find a spot to hide underneath a shelf. There was enough room so you wouldn’t be squashed and there's less likely to be kid germs. You got onto the floor, quickly sliding your body under the shelf, checking to make sure your full body was hidden.

There’s no way Sun will guess you're in here, the thought makes you crack a smile. That smile quickly fell when you hear the daycare lights turn off, leaving you in pitch-black darkness. The lo-fi music you had put on also ended abruptly, the speaker disconnecting from your phone.

Then came a familiar husky cackle. Why you? Why now? You're sure Moon will reprimand you for staying past closing if it catches you. You shrivel in on yourself as much as the small space would allow.

But then something cold wraps around your ankle, in the shape of a hand. You yelp as you are ruthlessly yanked from your hiding spot. This left you dandling from Moon's hand. The animatronic held you upside down by the leg, it peered down at you with that creepy smile.

“Hi there Moon,” you smile sheepishly.

You almost expect to be dropped on your head, but instead, Moon turns you the right way up and sets you on your feet. Awe. You don’t stare It in the eyes, opting to look down at its funny slippers. You could tell Moon was staring at you though, seeing as your face was covered in the red glow emitting from it’s LED lenses.

“Are you ssscared?” Moon hissed, breaking the silence.

You look up at it, confused. “No, Why would I be?” Sure Moon could be creepy if it wanted to, but you refused to be scared of it. You kinda wanted to get on the robots good side. Moon gave you a disapproving look before looking off to the side, as if avoiding you.

“You should be.” Moon then backs away from you until it stands outside the storage closet. You could make out something lowering down behind Moon, a metal click following soon after. The tall bot then proceeded to lift itself up into the air, leaving you surprised. So that’s how Moon was flying earlier! It floated up to the balcony that Sun had emerged from that very morning, disappearing behind the curtains. So that's it huh?

You walked over to the security desk and grabbed your duffel bag with a frown, pausing to look back up at the balcony. You lift your hands to cup around your mouth to make a makeshift speaker. “Goodbye Moon, and if you can hear me Sun, goodbye to you too!” You say loudly throughout the empty room. You hoped the animatronic and its counterpart had heard you.

You then walk out the tall wooden doors, turning around to take one last look at the daycare. After you clock out, you swiftly make your way towards your car and tiredly begin your drive home.

~~~

That’s all for now! Did you like it? Hate it? Criticism and helpful tips are always welcome! I’m gonna go back and heavily edit this bad boy, so this isn’t the finished product! I will be attempting to add many more details and try to more accurately capture the daycare attendants mannerisms. Thank you for reading :)

[hephaestuscrew]

Every Time I Can Think of When Names/What People Are Called Is Significant in Wolf 359

Cutter using everyone's first names as part of his terrifying over-friendliness thing. It's also definitely a power move because the crew aren't permitted to call him by his first name. They have to address him as Mr Cutter.

Alexander Hilbert / Elias Selberg / Dmitri Volodin. Since Hilbert has been working for Goddard for a long time, we can assume that these aren't even the only names he's gone by. The repeated identity-switching illustrates how Hilbert doesn't really have a life outside Goddard.

When trying to find out about Hilbert's past in Ep25, Eiffel asks him for his real name, like he thinks this might tell him who Hilbert really is.

After learning Hilbert's original name, Eiffel agrees to the continuation of the Decima experiments, although he says "I still don't trust you, Dmitri Volodin." I think this is the only time we hear Hilbert being called by his original name on the Hephaestus. Even at the funeral, Eiffel calls him Alexander Hilbert. The name that sticks is just the one he happened to die whilst wearing.

Lovelace sometimes calls Hilbert Selberg (e.g. "I've seen Selberg's dark side")- this seems to indicate when she's feeling most mistrustful of him.

Although the aliases are a practical measure, they also create a degree of separation between Hilbert and his previous selves. I think the most notable example is when he yells "Selberg not here today" at Lovelace in Ep26. When Hilbert is trying to save Eiffel from dying of Decima, he does not want to be called by the name of a man who killed two people using that same virus.

Like Hilbert, Cutter has gone by many names (William Carter, Marcus Cutter etc). He sheds identities to suit his purposes.

Andrea Nash /Rachel Young also took on a new name when she joined Goddard.

In her logs from the first Hephaestus mission, Lovelace says about Lambert, "I wish you were here Sam, I wish you were here to ask me not to call you that"

In her first meeting with Hilbert, Lovelace insists on being called Isabel.

I might be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that the only people who call Lovelace "Isabel" at any point are Cutter and Hilbert. Cutter calls her it because he does first names with everyone, but Hilbert asks "Isabel... are you listening to yourself?" in Ep38 after she's given an any-means-necessary revenge rant. And he calls her Isabel again in Ep44 when they are inspecting the mind-reading chair thing before the mutiny. In a twisted way, it's an acknowledgement of their shared history. Hilbert thinks he knows Lovelace better than the rest of the crew do, so he feels entitled to call her by her first name.

For Hera, her name (as opposed to her designation of Unit 214, which places her as just one among many, rather than an individual) is an assertion of personhood. Pryce insists on calling her Unit 214 and chides Cutter for calling AI by their names, because she doesn't see AIs as people.

The crew call Hera Unit 214 when they are being mind-controlled and Eiffel gives away his non-brainwashed state by automatically calling her Hera, indicating his inability to see her as a mere machine.

In Hera's first meeting with Minkowski, Minkowski initially calls her Unit 214 because she had heard that AIs prefer to go by their serial numbers (incidentally, the fact that Minkowski looked into this is wonderful. I wonder whether its true that most AI like to be called by their serial numbers or whether this information is put out by Pryce to deprive AIs of identity.) Hera responds "Oh, no, no. Hera. Definitely Hera."

In Hera's backstory ep, it is revealed that Goddard doesn't name their AIs until after they've been assigned to a posting. This really illustrates Goddard's attitude of "we won't consider treating you like a person unless you're useful to us".

Hera doesn't always have control over how she addresses the crew. She is forced to call Hilbert Commander during his Christmas mutiny. After Kepler's arrival, she starts calling Minkowski 'Lieutenant' rather than 'Commander' without even noticing. This is a symbol of her lack of autonomy over who to respect/ obey.

When Eiffel's freaked out about Lovelace being an alien, he keeps calling her "Cap" and she picks up on this as a sign of something being up.

Minkowski's surname and its correct pronunciation as a representation of her Polish heritage, which Eiffel disrespects by mispronouncing it. He says he initially tried to get it right, but stopped trying after they started fighting. After she tells him how much his mispronounciation bothers her in Ep51, we do hear him start to try to correct himself.

Eiffel insisting on calling Minkowski "Commander" even when she isn't officially the Commander - at times, it almost feels like a nickname or a term of affection. Even when she's voluntarily given up command to Lovelace, he still asks "Do I really have to call you Lieutenant?" It's an indication that, even though he doesn't always show it, he does see her as the one in charge.

I remember seeing a post which suggested that Eiffel calls Minkowski "Commander" when he is showing full respect for her and "Minkowski" (pronounced wrong) when he isn't, and I think there's definitely some truth to that.

He calls her Commander in his last words before being stranded in deep space (Ep28), before launching himself into the star (Ep52) and before the mind-wipe (Ep61).

I'm pretty sure that the first time Eiffel calls Minkowski 'Renée' is when he is begging her not to send him off back to Earth in the Sol. This is followed by Minkowski saying "Goodbye, Doug."

Minkowski does call Eiffel Doug several times in the early episodes but I think this is more because the writers hadn't fixed on the significance of names at this point. I think I remember seeing the writers saying that they wish they'd held back on her calling him Doug so that it would have more power later on.

During Eiffel & Minkowski's first meeting, she cuts herself off from asking him to call her Renée, and says Minkowski instead (perhaps because she's trying to be more formal/authoritative). After he butchers her surname a few times, she tells him to call her Commander.

Minkowski reintroducing herself to Eiffel after the mindwipe. Eiffel pronounces Minkowski's name correctly first time. This time she does ask him to "call me Renée".

This might be a stretch but arguably it's significant that she reintroduces herself with "my name is Renée Minkowski. I'm the Commander of this space station" rather than "I'm Commander Renée Minkowski"- she isn't defining herself by her military position.

The si-5 have a similar thing going on where they don't often call each other by their first names, so when they do, it gives those moments extra emotional significance.

Kepler calls Maxwell Alana in Ep39 when telling her not to get sentimental about Hera.

Maxwell first-names Jacobi twice in Ep42 (the Outside Jacobi Incident), once to tell him that if its a joke, it isn't funny and once to say a firm No to the idea of leaving Outside Jacobi to die.

When Maxwell is calling out for an answer from Outside Jacobi, our Jacobi says "Alana... I didn't go anywhere."

In Ep43, when Maxwell is about to lay into Jacobi for losing his cool over the Outside Jacobi Incident, she begins with "Daniel? Look at me." He eventually responds with "Alana, you're... You're absolutely right."

You could even argue that the classic introduction of 'This is the audio log of Communications Officer Doug Eiffel' draws attention to names as a key motif.

[boldlyvoid]

Million Dollar Man | chapter two

18+

summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.

Content warnings: sugar daddy!spencer, age gaps (14 years), daddy kink, blow jobs, kissing, drinking mention, lowkey perv!Spencer, cum play, praise, oral (female receiving), grinding, love confessions, arrangements, Spencers anxiety, (more to add)

word count: 3.4K

a/n: updates on Wednesdays and saturdays at 2 pm est

Chapter Two | Masterlist

She sat on the subway with an anxious pit in her stomach and her purse held close to her chest. Her laptop in her bag, she didn’t want to lose it on her way to the most important meeting of her whole life.

Her story was becoming a book, she was almost done the final draft, they were making touch-ups to the cover and picking the type of paper today.

Her dreams were coming true within the next month, soon she’d have a physical copy of her book, her pre-sales were showing that she’d be on the bestseller list, and her name was finally going to be on the cover of this one.

She sighed and reached for her necklace, holding it between her fingers as she took a few deep breaths. She was doing so much better today than she was last year and it was all because of Spencer, he was the best thing to happen to her. To think she complimented his sweater vest and now he’s the only person in her life she can count on.

All she can think about is him for the rest of her journey, through 4 more stops she keeps her eyes closed as she thinks of all his little facts and his cute laugh. She smiles to herself and the anxiety slips away, she loves him and she knows that for sure, but she just doesn’t know how she loves him.

She’s never had a sibling, her best friends are all women, her previous boyfriends were all shit and her other sugar daddies were never this wonderful, and her parents are lesbians… she doesn’t know what her feelings really are for Spencer, mainly because she’s never known any other men to compare him to.

But she does know the exact moment she realized she fell for him.

He booked a hotel room in DC after a local case, asking her to meet him in there at 10 pm. She was waiting in the bathtub when he arrived, bubbles galore, her hair up and arms open, “welcome home, honey.”

He laughs, “you want me to get in there with you?”

She just nods, “let me take care of you, daddy?”

He takes off his blazer, pulls his tie off and starts to unbutton his shirt. She watches patiently as he gets undressed, and it’s not sexual to her. He’s her person, her best friend, the only human being she would ever share a moment like this with and that’s when it hits her.

She doesn’t accept it just yet.

It’s not until he’s lying on her chest, between her legs, cheek resting on her boobs as she runs a sponge over his back while he gives her a little run down on his terrible week. His co-worker almost died, his mom is stressing him out, the only good thing he has left is her and she knows that.

“And then I get to my moms facility and she’s had a really good day, she knows me and she knows all of my childhood again and she’s all right there in front of me and yet she’s so far away. I’m never going to get all the time I want with her and it’s really hard to accept.”

He shares things with her that he doesn’t even tell his therapist. Because his therapist doesn’t hold him like a child against her chest and tell him he’s okay when he get’s upset.

Y/N loves him, so she kisses his forehead, “I’m so sorry, I have 2 moms if you’d like to have one?”

“It’s okay, I would love to meet them sometime though,” he wraps his arms around her waist a little tighter under the water. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Did I mention my leg is 44 inches from hip to toe?” She asks in the middle of the silence, quoting pretty woman, knowing he hasn’t seen that far into the movie yet. “So basically we’re talking about 88 inches of therapy for the bargain price of $800 dollars a week.”

Her legs wrap around him and their naked bodies are closer than they’ve ever been and yet it’s completely platonic, “I’d spend a million dollars on you if it always meant feeling this good after.”

She runs her cheek along his wet hair as he snuggles into her neck, “mmm, I like the sound of that,” she teased. “My million dollar man.”

Her stop rolls around and she pulls herself out of her day dreams to get off the train and head to her meeting. She smiles as she walks through the station, up the stairs and onto the busy downtown streets when she gets a text with Spencers special chime. She opens it when she gets to where she’s going, safely inside and in the waiting room.

It makes her laugh in the waiting room. People look at her but she doesn’t care, he’s so special to her she feels butterflies in her stomach even when he’s not around.

“Y/N!” She hears her name being called by her editor, he’s over ecstatic as he comes running out to get her. “Come, come we have so many choices to make!” He jumps up and down as he holds her arm, like a child in a candy store.

“Andy, chill man,” she laughs at him and plays it cool, “It’s just the cover being finalized.”

“It’s our baby!” He teases back, pushing his glasses up and tugging her behind the glass doors of the office.

She’s surrounded by people and paper and huge versions of her book cover. She has a sharpie as she fixed mistakes and jots down final ideas. “And I wan’t Phil to look more human and less like data from Star Trek?”

“But Dorothy looks okay?” The artist asks, nervously and Y/N can tell.

“She looks beautiful! You really brought her justice,” she smiles, “really she looks the same in my head! It’s just Phil and I’m sure it’s tough getting a drawing to look like a robotic human, let alone human.”

“I have some ideas?” She opens up more, taking her iPad out and sliding it across the table, “I wanted to give him more of a Sophia feel? His face is silicone but his joints and everything are more like an Elon Musk crash dummy.”

“That’s perfect!” She’s shocked, “why didn’t that go in the first draft?”

“I was worried it was too much,” she’s a little older than Y/N, and yet her anxiety is that of a teenage girl. “I’m going to get working on the final, do you want some emailed versions tonight?”

“Yes please,” she smiles.

“So we’re done?” Andy asks, “we’ve made all our final calls?”

“I believe we have,” Y/N closes her laptop and takes her phone out, taking a photo of the final rough sketch of her book cover on the table to send to Spencer before he comes to pick her up. She can’t wait to see him now.

—

They’re sitting side by side in matching spa robes, he’s getting a pedicure while she gets her nails done. Leaning back in her chair with a face mask and cucumbers on her eyes, she’s never felt more relaxed in her life. And just in time too, her back was killing her from writing, her knuckles hurt and she just needed a break.

Spencer did too, he was genuinely not having a good time at work anymore, every case made him spiral and he always looked to Y/N on days like that. They met more than once a week now, she got $800 every Friday and she didn’t even really need it anymore. He was coving for so much of her bills and lively hood that her savings account was growing and growing because of him.

For the first time in her life she thought she would be okay if a man left her. As terrible as it was, as much as her moms tried to raise her differently, she fell down the daddy issues rabbit hole and she’s never going to find her way out— however, luckily for her, Spencer is down here too, and he brought a flashlight.

He understands her, more than anyone else on earth. He knows all her secrets, every crush and bad grade and snide remark she’s ever kept to herself. He didn’t judge her, he could actually listen to her issues and tell her why she had them. He gave better advice than a therapist and he was able to get information for her if he didn’t know the answer to what she was going through.

He’s absolutely everything to her and yet he’s 14 years older than her, he’s still traumatized beyond belief, he’s sad and ashamed and recovering… but he’s the best man in the whole world and she wishes he could see that. If he just looked at himself from her eyes, if he felt how she did in her soul when they were together, he’d love himself.

They’re too relaxed to drive home, and Spencer knew that would happen beforehand, bringing her a change of clothes (lingerie) and that robe me mentioned. He books a hotel above the spa and takes her to it. Arms linked as they enter the suite, she’s amazed to find more than one gift bag on the bed.

“How many gifts is this now?”

“We’re at 5 out of 24.”

She laughs as she wraps her arms around him in a thank you hug, “this is what you consider 4 gifts? Spencer there are like 8 things on the bed, let alone the massage and manicure?”

“If you think this is too much I guess you’re going to get really mad next week,” he teases as she looks up at him with a surprised look on her face.

“Spencer, I am so busy next week, I cannot be galavanting around with my sugar daddy,” she tries to act like she doesn’t want to go on an adventure with him again.

The last trip they took was the best week of her life. They went to all the historical sites in the UK that she and Spencer had talked about. Mainly old churches and castles, strange poets graves, random art and most importantly; stone henge. It was a trip of a lifetime and he took it with her.

“I watched the rest of Pretty Woman the other day,” he smiles, “and I thought I’d pull an Edward Lewis and really surprise you because you deserve it.”

“You know how the movie ends, right?” Her heart beats really fast in her chest and she wants him to love her so bad but it’s also terrifying now that she’s this close.

“He lets her choose,” he whispers.

“He rescues her,” she corrects him.

“And she rescues him right back,” he really did watch the end of the movie.

It makes her heart skip a beat as she swallows sharply, “what does this mean for us?”

“I have a whole plan, a whole sequence of events I want to stick to. I wanted to make you fall in love with me this week and ask you on your birthday, can we still do that?” He pleads with her, he’s so serious. He’s clearly put a lot of effort into this.

“Absolutely,” she smiles, “but if you’re going to make me wait that long for you to ask, you still can’t kiss me till then. No matter how much I already love you.”

“Really?” He’s so soft with her, she knows he’s not reacting to the teasing. He’s never had someone tell him they love him and then stay after.

“I would never lie to you about that, spence. I know what love means to you, I know how scared you are and I’m scared too. But I know there is no one else in the whole world I’d rather be scared with than you,” she holds him tighter and rubs her nose against his, “so what’s in the bags, daddy? Finish your surprise.”

She plays along perfectly, stepping back and hauling him towards the bed. “I got you some outfits and things for the next 2 weeks, we have a few things planned. We’re going on a flight soon, I have new luggage being delivered to your apartment this week and we’re going to see your moms for 3 days.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “there’s no way, Spencer, I haven’t seen them in 5 years, I’m going to cry.”

“I know,” he cups her jaw with his hand. “They’re really excited to see you.”

She hugs him tight, kissing his neck as she holds him. “Thank you, daddy, do you want me to put something on for you now?”

“I’m just going to take it off you, plus, what your wearing is sexy enough, he whispers back. “You’re always so beautiful, baby.”

“I thought you were saving the best for last?” She asks as she pulls back, overly eager and he can tell.

“I want to repay the favour from the other night.”

She doesn’t mean to gasp and yet she does, “please?”

He pulls on the tie of her robe, opening it enough to snake a hand behind her back and draw her in with a hand on her bare back. “Please what?”

“Please, daddy?” She looks up with her best begging eyes, perfect pout and all. “I want you to touch me, I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

He steps away from her to swipe all the bags off the bed before picking her up and laying her back against the pillows. He kisses down her body, hand on her lover back as she arches, he drags his bottom lip from her belly button to her cleavage. Nipping and sucking at the exposed skin on her chest, pulling her breasts out of the bra to suck on her nipples, she moans and it’s louder than she expected.

As she plays with his hair, he marks her, bruising small little love bites all the way down as he makes his way between her legs, “take me, please?”

He’s been dreaming of this for so long, he can’t even give you an accurate number of times his mind has drifted to the thought of how wonderful she would taste, how beautiful she’d sound…

“Tell me how badly you want me?” He asks as he spreads her legs and kisses her left thigh.

“I haven’t had sex in 10 months while waiting for you. Daddy, please you’ve owned me for so long, just take what’s yours already for gods sa- OH!”

With a broad lick, his tongue flattens against her core and it shuts her up. She gets what she wants, holding into his hair as she tosses her head back, taking it all in and enjoying it. He’s been on her mind for months, every time her vibrator was where he is now, she thought of him. he’s been the man of her dreams longer than she’s known him, and he was proving it.

“Right there, daddy,” she speaks through shallow breaths, “do you know how much I’ve thought of this?”

“You know I don’t,” the vibrations of his voice against her skin are glorious, he looks up at her through his lashes as his tongue flicks over her clit and she shakes a bit.

“Fuck,” she gasps, gripping his hair tighter, “better than I thought you’d be, fuck, too bad you— Jesus, don’t have the stash anymore…”

He stops and looks up at her, the smirk on his face glistening with her juices, “the stash?”

She nods, “I’ve thought about calling it the pussy tickler,” she teases, running her hand down his cheek and swiping her thumb across his bottom lip before bringing it up to her mouth to taste, “I want more of you.”

He kisses back up her body and she reaches for his robe the second he’s close enough. “Just grind against me? I know you’re waiting but we can still feel good together?”

He kisses the side of her mouth and she takes that as a yes, wrapping her legs around him so his hard cock is pressed right against her core as they move their hips in synchronicity with each other. His breathing is heavy as he kisses her cheek and jaw, her nails scratch down his back, he feels absolutely amazing against her.

She feels so empty, she wants him so bad she’s clenching around nothing as she squirms against his cock and wishes she was full.

“I wish I could move time,” she whispers. “Fuck, why can’t it be my birthday?”

He laughs against her, grazing his teeth over her neck and drawing another moan from her but then he stops moving his hips, “why are you so impatient?”

“Remember I said I stopped enjoying everything? Well, taking a 10 month break from sex and thinking about you every time I got off has made me desperate,” her hand cups his cheek, “I’d wait forever for you, but a girl needs to be fucked hard every once in a while.”

Only she could find a way to make something both profoundly beautiful and whorish at the same time, he loved her for it and she knew that now. He smiles and leaned in to rub his nose against hers and it takes everything in her not to kiss him. The same way it was taking everything in him not to slip into her as he began to grind against her once more.

She’s so close, the accidental edging has added a whole new level of desperation she’s never felt before. She wants to cum for him so bad, but more importantly she wants him to cum for her.

“Take my bra off,” she whispers, Spencer’s hands travel behind her back to unclasp it and he helps her out of it before tossing it to the floor.

“Cum for me daddy,” she whispers in his head with a hand in his hair, gripping him tightly as he bites at her neck, “cover me with your cum like you’re marking your territory.”

“Shit,” his hips sputter against hers.

“Say it, I know you want to,” she teases, so close to the edge but it’s too good of an opportunity. She loves seeing him fall apart like this and she can’t wait to see it again. “Who’s am I?”

“Daddy’s girl.”

He grinds down on her harder and faster and she’s so close, the bubble in her gut is reaching a fever pitch and with a gasp, she’s cumming and then she feels it. His load covers her stomach as he pants against her neck and grips her hips tighter as he comes down.

She wraps her arms around him and holds him as close as humanly possible, her breathing still heavy as he rises and falls on her chest. He’s heavy but she doesn’t care, she just kisses the top of his head and thanks him.

He brushes his nose against her neck, nuzzling her like a cat, “do you really mean it?”

“What, honey?” He remembers so much, this could be a question about something she said 2 months or 2 minutes ago and she has no clue.

“You’re not just playing along with my kinks right, you genuinely want to be mine?”

For being her million dollar man, his heart sure was broke. This is why he wasn’t ready, he still didn’t understand why she would want to stay without anything in return, he’s gotten so used to paying her for her time now that his anxiety has managed to convince him that she’ll leave when he stops being worth it to her.

“What does my necklace say?” She asks, knowing how close he was to it. “Read it to me, I forget.”

“Daddy’s girl,” he smiles again.

She soothes her hands over his back, “I would do anything with you because I love and trust you, but also because everything you do is sexy… you could read me the dictionary and I’d still want you to pump me full of cum after.”

“It sounds so crude after,” he laughs, “speaking of, we really need to have a shower.”

“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine?” She teases as he gets up.

“Only if you let me wash the front too?”

She smacks his bare ass and races him into the bathroom, turning on the water and getting in with him while still laughing and carrying on. He’s her best friend in the whole world, there’s no one else she would rather do this with… there was no one she has done this with. No one has made her feel this good, before during and after sex.

Spencer Reid was an anomaly, but he was hers.

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[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

First date: Seokjin’s POV

kim seokjin x reader warnings; none! words; 2,196 words

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

Seokjin felt like a drink. It was nine o’clock in the morning, so absolutely out of the question, but it didn’t stop him from craving it. Whiskey. Definitely whiskey. Nana’s PA had just been to pick up Arin for the weekend – Thank God. Finally she would be able to spend time with her mom after a month, which he was over the moon about, and selfishly, that meant his date with you could go ahead. Even if he was so nervous he could throw up. 

Work had been a great distraction for the past two days but once he’d woken up this morning the realisation had dawned on him. He was going on a date tonight. His first in a decade. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually gone through with it and asked you to dinner. He’d faced his fears, possibly made a fool of himself and shared too much about his personal life in the process, but you hadn’t seemed to mind at all. You were so easy to talk to, it was refreshing. He’d felt brave for the first time in months – years.   But it still didn’t stop him from being on pins as soon as he’d opened his eyes this morning. 

He’d showered early, just after Arin had woken up and then he’d helped her get ready for the day too, allowing her to eat her breakfast in front of the television as he tried to swallow down his bowl of porridge too. It tasted like cardboard – but then again, it might have been his cooking. Misook usually made the food around her, when he wasn’t dining out or ordering take out of course. 

Arin had noticed his strange mood straight away. Obviously. 

“Daddy, what’s wrong with you this morning?” She’d asked, looking over at him warily before hesitating. “I am spending the weekend with mom, right?”

“Of course you are, sweetie” he’d rushed, shaking away the  surge of anger he’d felt. It pained him to know she was always expecting the worst lately. “Your mom just text me to say Jia is on her way.” 

She’d smiled then, her face lighting up and he couldn’t help but match it, his nerves disappearing for a while. That was until he was left all alone, the house now empty and silent. He eyed the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter (where he’d left it after his small nightcap last night) and shook his head. He should drop you a text, just to check in and see if you were still on for tonight. He needed to find out what time to pick you up anyway. He probably should have messaged you the day before, he panicked suddenly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled his phone from his sweatpants pocket. Oh well, there was no time for regrets, that’s what his father always said. 

It took him at least ten minutes to figure out what to say. His first draft sounded too cheerful, too false, he was trying way too hard and had added an examination point. His second was too formal, fifteen years of sending business emails back and forth obvious. He settled on something in the middle – he hoped.  

Unknown (9:32am)  Hi Y/N,  It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up.  Regards, Seokjin 

Only, reading it back after he hit send he began to second guess himself. Of course you knew who he was, his confidence might be lacking a little right now but he knew he wasn’t totally forgettable. What an idiot. Not that he could do much, there was no turning back. He’d committed. 

He busied himself with a bit of Saturday morning cleaning while he waited for your reply, and by that he meant straightening up the pillows he and Arin had been sitting against earlier. When he returned to the kitchen, your message was waiting for him. 

You (9:43am)  Of course, send the details. I trust your taste! 

See, exclamation points suited you. It was cute. He could just imagine you saying it in person, your dazzling smile, maybe that little giggle you’d made a few times on Wednesday. He felt something warm in his chest as he got lost in his thoughts, nerves easing once again. You were excited for tonight, he told himself.   Maybe you were even just as nervous as him possibly… 

He spent yet another few minutes composing his reply. A lot more casual this time, signing off with just his name. He didn’t always text like this, Namjoon could vouch for him, but he didn’t think you were both quite there yet. He wanted to show his best self after all. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to make you like him as much as he liked you. 

Seokjin (9:50am)  The sudden pressure… The restaurant’s name is KIM. I hope you like it. Is 7 alright to pick you up? I made reservations for 7:30.  Seokjin 

In truth, this restaurant was one he co-owned with his brother. Seokchul was the executive chef and they were both very proud of how successful their business venture had become. He knew taking you to such a place might seem like a cop-out – or worse, a brag – but that wasn’t the case at all. He wanted to treat you in a place that meant a lot to him. He could have chosen multiple restaurants, he was a regular at quite a few and could easily get a great table, but see, that did seem like he was showing off and he did not want to give you that impression at all. It was the complete opposite of his personality. KIM was a good choice, he was sure of it, and it helped that his brother didn’t work weekends, so there was no risk of bumping into him. Although, he had let him know about the date (and had begged him not to spill to their mother). 

You (9:52am)  I will. 7 sounds perfect. I’ll send through my address. See you later! 

You followed up with a Google Maps link to your home, and he sent a quick thank you – sans his name this time. With a quick sigh he pocketed his phone again, it was time to get on with his day. He had some paperwork from yesterday to complete by Monday morning so he should probably make a start. He stopped to order a light lunch at midday, ate it as he scrolled through his very limited social media before getting back to it. 

He called it a day around 3pm, a call from his mom interrupting his flow. He spent an hour talking, their weekend phone calls were habitual by now and he enjoyed them immensely.  He loved his father of course, but their conversations mostly revolved around work. Despite stepping down as CEO three years ago, he was still a vital member of the company, and Seokjin continued to consult him at every opportunity and lean on him for support when things got stressful. With his mom, she was the woman he could still be a kid around. They could talk about anything and everything, but for her own benefit he left out his plans for tonight. He knew what she was like, she’d get way too excited and overwhelmed and before long she’d be sobbing down the line while simultaneously asking to meet you. She’d been wanting him to meet someone new for so long, much like Mrs. Shin. It was a surprise the two women weren’t conspiring behind his back. 

No, he’d keep it a secret for now. If things went well tonight, then possibly his mother would get to find out. He wasn’t getting his hopes up though – or at least he was trying not to. 

It was just after four when he got off the phone, too early to start getting ready just yet, so he sat in front of the television and tried to concentrate on a series he’d recently started. (It wasn’t going well. He was on about one episode a week out of a nine season TV show.) It was no use though, the nerves were rearing their ugly head again. 

He decided to choose his outfit. Seokjin wasn’t much of a thinker when it came to fashion, he just grabbed whatever he saw first that morning, but tonight he wanted to at least put some effort in. After much deliberation he decided on a navy two piece paired with a white dress shirt. It wasn’t over the top, he thought, but nice enough to make that impression that was so very important to him. He kept his hair simple. He’d managed to squeeze in a haircut yesterday so it made things easier, but upon closer inspection in the mirror he noticed those pesky grey hairs of his glittering in the sunlight. He grimaced, worried now. He didn’t know your exact age yet, but it was obvious he was a few years older than you. He was no spring chicken, especially with those wrinkles around his eyes. He had been called handsome all his life, no stranger to it, but right now he was dubious. 

He pushed his trivial concerns away and concentrated on the next decision. What car he would take. He didn’t want to go too flash – again with the showing off thing – so the Aston Martin was definitely off the cards. He hadn’t actually driven that one much, going through some sort of so-called midlife crisis when he’d bought it straight after his divorce, so he made a mental note to take it out next weekend. He decided on the Mercedes convertible (roof on, of course). It seemed like a suitable choice, not too flashy at all really. He didn’t want to run the risk of putting you off him or overwhelming you with showy displays. He was well aware of the differences between your lifestyles, not that he cared at all, but it didn’t stop him from understanding. The things that seemed slight to him could very well be enormous for you. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape or form. 

Shit, on second thoughts maybe his restaurant was a bad idea… 

.

.

Seokjin was always punctual, he prided himself on it, but tonight it made him nervous. He’d said 7 but it had only just gone quarter to. He couldn’t very well stay in the car for fifteen minutes, you’d spot him out the window, so ever so slowly he opened his car door and stepped out, his heart thudding against his ribcage. He was sure he noticed his hand shaking as he closed it behind him. He was such a mess it was embarrassing. 

You lived in a nice little neighbourhood, it seemed quiet, and he admired your pots of flowers in the patch of garden you had as he made his way up the path that led to your front door. He took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, adjusting his suit jacket as he waited for you to open up. It’s fine, Seokjin, he told himself. It’s just dinner. You’ve done much scarier things in your life. Pull yourself together, man. 

A few seconds later the door opened in front of him and you came into view, looking as beautiful as ever. I’m fucked, he thought immediately. 

“Hi,“ he forced himself to say as he smiled. He was probably staring but he couldn’t help himself. You looked stunning, your dress deep red in colour and incredibly flattering. His throat felt dry and he swallowed quickly. 

“Hey,” you greeted back. 

“You look beautiful,“ he couldn’t help but awe, hoping he wasn’t stepping out of line with his compliment. 

"Thank you,” you smiled almost shyly. It was adorable. “You look…really good.“ 

He couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, aware the sound was probably highly unfaltering, but he couldn’t help it. "I’ll take it. Thanks.” He tilted his head to the right then, composing himself. “Are you ready to go? I’m a bit early, I know. Sorry about that." 

He really couldn’t tear himself away from your beauty, but luckily you didn’t seem to notice, busy nodding as you clutched your purse to your side. "I, uh… I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing.” Your voice raised as you continued, your head turning slightly down the hallway. 

He raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but he guessed said best friend was in the house somewhere? He smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine.” 

As you stepped forward, a breath of a chuckle slipping from your throat, he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to let you lead the way. You accepted with a brief nod of your head, your gazes catching for a split second. God, you were gorgeous. 

His nerves might have eased a tad, but his heart was still beating just as fast – if not more.  

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[fallingforyou123]

You Will Never Be A God-Une

Warnings: Slight language, implied smut, alight angst

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Here is the official part one! Hope you'll like it, reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

Series Masterpost

The sheets hung loosely around her frame, the only thing keeping her from being exposed to the cold air. The stranger laid beside her in a dazed out state, chest rising ever so slowly. A small cloud of smoke engulfed the both of them, a bad habit Stevi had picked up from an ex of hers.

“Those will kill you one day.”

“No more than sleeping with strangers will.”

“Touche.”

Stevi moved to get dressed, keeping quiet to avoid another conversation. Leaving was always bad, but leaving when there was still so much to be said was the worst. She couldn’t quite place it, but there was a feeling, something small sitting in her gut. It worried her, she’d never felt like this with a stranger. So safe and comfortable.

“Stay. Just till the morning, I’ll have my driver take you home.” Came the voice from the other side of the bed.

“No, definitely no. I have rules, no names, no staying. I can’t”

“What a lonely life you must live, to disconnect so much from those around you.”

Stevi looked at him, truly looked at him. He looked so much different than the man she met a couple hours ago. His perfectly gelled hair was nothing more than a brown mess atop his head, his eyes were clouded with a sleepy haze, and his suit had been replaced by a very thin sheet. He looked like someone she could see herself falling for back in university, she had to remind herself that this was a man with a lot of money, someone she’d probably dig up dirt on for an article.

She shook her head, she needed to leave.

After she finished dressing, she grabbed her bag from the front room and slipped out the door. Checking her phone she saw a couple missed calls from Brooke and an enthusiastic ‘be safe!’ text from Poppy. She quickly both, ensuring them that she was not dead in a ditch somewhere, before ordering an uber and hoping in the elevator.

***

The rest of the weekend had gone by in a blur. She’d spent all of Saturday nursing her hangover with ice cream and old reruns of Golden Girls in bed. Then Sunday was brunch with the girls at a little cafe where she was forced to share every detail of the events that unfolded Friday night, only leaving out how weird she had felt in the strangers' company. And then all too soon she was getting ready for a week of meetings and interviews.

Walking into the office, Stevi was greeted by her boss informing her that her 11am was now Stevi’s and ‘oh, look, he’s early.’ She mentally groaned, there was not enough caffeine in the world to make this worth it. Don’t get her wrong, Stevi loved her job, but god did she hate her boss. She was flakey, and whenever anything didn’t appeal to her, she’d simply give it to Stevi with barely any notice. There were far too many nights that she had to stay late because she was given a column to write only hours before it was due.

With a heavy sigh, she walks into the conference room, hoping that this won’t last long. “Good morning, my name is Stevi, I’ll be doing the interview today since Diane couldn’t be here.”

“Rule one.”

She whips her head up towards the man, “What?”

It’s in that moment that she realizes who this is, the man from Friday night. And coincidentally, Tom Holland. She should’ve known the other night who he was, his name and face had been plastered on the bulletin board for weeks, one of their most anticipated interviews this year. Tom was not only a pretty face, but the youngest CEO to be running an international company in decades. His father had started Holland and Co. Publishing almost 30 years ago, and only a few months ago he handed it over to Tom.

“I said, rule one darling. You’ve broken it.” She’d forgotten how lovely that voice was, remembering how captivating it was to have him whispering in her ear.

“I heard what you said, Mr. Holland.”

“Call me Tom, you’ve more than earned that privilege.”

“This is my place of work, not some stupid nightclub, I keep things professional here.”

Neither of them take their eyes off the other, a silent war taking place between the two of them.

“Well, if you’re such a professional, stop looking at me like you’re wanting to fuck me.”

A small gasp leaves Stevi. She stands up to leave, gathering her things, and looks at him with venom in her eyes, “Mr. Holland, I’m afraid that this interview is over, if you would please talk to the receptionist she will reschedule you in with someone other than me.”

A small look of shock crosses Tom’s face before he too stands, reaching out to grab Stevi’s arm, “Wait, I'm sorry. Sit down, I’ll be civil.”

Reluctantly, she does. Placing her notebooks in front of her and pulling out the recorder. Before she begins she gives Tom a warning look, “One word, one single word out of line, and this is over.” To which he nods and sits back, hands folded in his lap, looking like a true business man.

***

The rest of the interview goes by smoothly, only a couple of suggestive looks being thrown her way before he bites his tongue. Stevi’s never been more relieved to finish something in her life, the tension between the two becoming almost unbearable as the interview went on. “Okay, I think that’s all we need for the article, a draft will be sent to your assistant to go over before we publish it in next week's business column.”

Stevi stands quickly, ready to put everything behind her and spend the rest of her day hiding in her office. Before she can leave, a hand is wrapped around her arm once again, and body right behind her. “Let me take you to dinner, darling. A reward for being good.”

The voice in her ear sends a shiver down her spine, and for a second she debates it, “Tom, I can’t. I don’t mix business with pleasure, this is already a conflict of interest.”

“More of those damn rules. Live a little, let your guard down for once.” He looks at her with pleading eyes, something that makes him look more like his true age. That feeling sneaks its way back into again, and for a moment, while she stares into his eyes, nothing else exists. Just the two of them and a world of possibilities.

“If I say yes, this stays between us. The people we are here, and the people we are then are not the same. My job may not seem dangerous to you, but it could be very bad for me if someone gets the wrong idea.”

Tom nods, he knows all too well what she means. “Tonight at 7, meet me at The Garden on 22nd, I’ll make the reservation.”

She agrees, lets him put his number in her phone, and gives Tom one last smile before heading down the hall to her office.

She jumps when she sees someone sitting at her desk, “James, what are you doing here?”

“What, can’t check in on my favourite captain?”

“Not without a secret agenda, and last I checked, I have nothing to report to you, I’m off duty.” Stevi walks towards him, pushing his legs off of her desk.

“Ah, sweetheart, you’re never off duty. Not when you’re talking to men like that.” James points out the door, to where Tom can be seen talking to the receptionist.

“That is none of your business, James.”

“I want details, everything you can find out about him, on my desk by Friday, you know what’ll happen if it’s not. Have a good day Stevi.” And with that, James walks out of the room, leaving a chill hanging in the air.

Stevi suddenly can’t breathe, the four walls surrounding her feeling like a cage. She quickly grabs her things and walks to Dianes’ office, telling her there’s a family emergency and she’ll work on the article at home. Within minutes she’s scrambling to get into her car, dialing Poppys’ number, needing someone to calm her down.

She spends the rest of the day on Poppys’ couch trying to recover from her near mental breakdown. This life was never something she wanted, she’d been dragged into it by her ex. After he failed to complete a simple task, he was killed in their apartment, and she was responsible for finishing it out. But it’s never that simple, one task turned into two, and then four, and now she was too far in to be able to leave.

All too soon, it was 6:30 and she was leaving for her date with Tom. She’d left Poppys an hour ago, promising her that there was nothing to worry about, it had just been a bad day. She drove in silence, not wanting to focus on anything but the road. She got to the restaurant right on time, quickly being seated in one of the private rooms. She’d been here once before with her parents when she first moved to the city. They’d taken her out to celebrate and they’d spent the night drinking fancy wine and eating more food than they could’ve ever imagined.

Lost in her memories, she didn’t realise how much time had passed since she’d arrived. Checking her phone she saw that it was now quarter past, and no sign of Tom. She tries texting him, thinking maybe he’d gotten off of work late. By 7:30 she starts to panic, she’s 2 glasses of wine in and still no sign of him. To no avail, she calls him, worry turning into anger when it goes straight to voicemail.

It’s almost 8 when the waiter informs her that Tom has called, he won’t be making it, but to order whatever she likes and he’ll pay for it.

And so she sits there, wine glass in hand, wishing she’d never even met Tom.

[i-know-my-value-darling]

Supernatural stars reflect on the show's undying legacy

Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, and Misha Collins discuss 15 years of fantasy, family, and flannel. 

"We only get one shot at this." Sam and Dean Winchester are surrounded. The monster-hunting brothers are standing on the edge of a cliff. They look to Castiel, their brother in arms — or is it wings? — but even he can’t help. One move in the wrong direction could ruin everything. After years of fighting demons, going toe-to- toe with Satan himself, and saving the world multiple times, they once again find themselves in a position of having to perform under pressure. But this situation is unlike anything they’ve ever dealt with before. All eyes are on them as they have one shot…at getting the perfect picture.

It’s a dry, hot August day in Malibu — when people were still allowed to gather outside — as Supernatural stars Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, and Misha Collins prepare for the last setup of their final Entertainment Weekly cover shoot. With a bottle of champagne in each of their hands, Ackles once again reminds them they get “one shot” to do this right. But if their characters can shoulder the weight of the world, surely these three can handle a photo. Read the whole story below

The champagne soaking is meant to be a celebration of 15 years, of making television history. Supernatural, the story of two brothers destined to save the world, is the longest-running genre show in the history of American broadcast television. (So old, the first three seasons shot on this thing called film.) What started as an underdog story, living its first few years on the verge of cancellation, has become an institution, a milestone to which other shows aspire. Supernatural not only survived the move from The WB to The CW after its first season — it’s now the final WB show left standing — but became the backbone of the now highly successful CW network. Over the years, the sci-fi series has aired on every weeknight, helping to launch shows including Arrow and The Vampire Diaries. The network moved it one final time, most recently, to Mondays, to help Roswell, New Mexico expand its audience. “Supernatural is a major link to many of the shows that we have successfully built to market,” The CW’s chairman and CEO Mark Pedowitz says. “Almost every one of our shows has had it as a lead-out or a lead-in.”

And to think, it all started as a promise to bring horror to television. After Supernatural creator Eric Kripke had finished working with Warner Bros. on 2003’s Tarzan series, he pitched the idea of a reporter who travels around hunting urban legends. As he puts it, it was a Kolchak: The Night Stalker rip-off. But when he realized the story would benefit from having brothers at its core, he started writing. “At the time, The Ring and The Grudge were huge hits in theaters,” Kripke remembers. “We said, ‘We’re going to take that experience and we’re going to put it on TV,’ and the initial goal was to be scary.” After Warner Bros. passed on his first, what he calls “uptight,” draft, Kripke had to reassess the kind of show he was creating. “I canceled all my Christmas plans and wrote that second draft in three weeks,” he says. “That was when the show got its sense of humor, because I was locked alone, over winter break, in my office. I couldn’t do anything fun, so I started entertaining myself.”

The show was still scary, but it was also funny and, over the years, would continue to evolve. Sure, you could say it’s a little bit X-Files — in its early days, the show often used the line “The X-Files meets Route 66” — and there were definite Star Wars influences (Sam and Dean were originally based on Luke Skywalker and Han Solo). But no combination of pop culture is going to perfectly describe Supernatural because the show has managed to do something remarkably rare in the age of peak TV, where audiences are so overwhelmed with content that an original idea seems foreign: It’s created a truly one-of- a-kind experience.

For starters, it’s a show about two flannel-wearing, beer-loving, blue-collar dudes from Kansas who for a good chunk of their lives traveled from cheap motel to cheap motel, paying for gas and greasy diner food with a mix of fake credit cards and money they earned scamming people at the pool table. “Almost all television is about rich people or, at the very least, middle-class people,” co-showrunner Andrew Dabb says. “The fact that we’ve been able to take this Midwestern blue-collar approach to this genre feels like we’re breaking the mold.”

But the mold-breaking didn’t stop there. Supernatural might’ve started out as a horror show with some snarky one-liners, but it evolved into some of the boldest, most experimental (and certainly strangest) stories on the small screen. “We’re a show of big swings,” co-showrunner Robert Singer says. “I used to say, with every idea, ‘This will be a home run or they’ll cancel us,’ but every year we wanted to do something really nuts." And when he says nuts, we’re not just talking about the episode with the talking teddy bear or the murderer targeting imaginary friends. Those are just some standard monsters of the week. We’re talking about the black-and-white episode shot like a classic Hollywood monster movie, or the episode that introduced Chuck (Rob Benedict), a prophet — who’d later reveal himself to be God — who was famous for writing a book series called Supernatural. That, of course, led to Sam and Dean attending a Supernatural fan convention as the show continued to redefine what it meant to inject a series with meta humor. And the swings never stopped. Season 13 featured a Scooby-Doo crossover as an animated Sam, Dean, and Castiel solved a case alongside the Mystery Inc. gang. And in season 14, after giving God a sister a few years prior, the show made the Big Man Himself its final villain. “I don’t think any idea, barring some production concerns, has been viewed as too crazy,” Dabb says. “Because we know that our fans are smart and that they’ll follow these guys anywhere.”

So long as each episode features Sam and Dean — and the occasional heartfelt talk on the hood of the Impala — the show can do just about anything, which is another reason Kripke had to rewrite his first draft of the pilot. Originally, Dean was the only brother who knew about monsters growing up, bringing Sam up to speed later in life. It wasn’t until Kripke figured out that they needed to be in this together that the series snapped into place. Because at the end of it all, they’re two brothers bonded by the loss of their mother and a life spent on the road with an absentee father. (It just so happens that their mother was killed by a demon and their father hunted them.) The familial dynamic — the irrational codependency, as the angel Zachariah (Kurt Fuller) once called it — is the most important part of the show. “The first inkling I had that we had something special was shooting the pilot,” Kripke says. “It was the scene on the bridge when Sam and Dean talk about their mother. It was the first time that you really saw their chemistry and their connection as brothers on full display. Because I’ve always said this show begins and ends with whether you believe that sibling relationship.” But Sam and Dean weren’t just the center of the show. For many years, they were the show.

Supernatural has never been an ensemble drama. For the first 82 hours of the series, Ackles and Padalecki were the only long-running series regulars — Katie Cassidy and Lauren Cohan briefly joined for season 3, appearing in 12 episodes combined. But Sam and Dean weren’t just in every episode; they anchored every episode. (They skipped table reads because there would’ve been only two actors there.) “I had many moments of not only questioning, ‘Can I keep this up?’ but an answer of ‘I cannot keep this up,’ ” Padalecki, 37, who’s been vocal about his struggle in the early seasons, says. “I borrowed strength from Jensen.” But even Ackles, 42, admits it was a tough job. “The 23-episode seasons were nine and a half months of filming,” he adds. “It was a lot of work, but I always came back to: I still enjoy it, I still like telling the story, I still like these characters and the people I work with.”

Not only did the guys stick around, they built a reputation of having created one of the warmest sets in the business, with a number of crew members staying with the production all 15 seasons. It all dates back to a talk Kripke had with his stars during the filming of the series’ second episode. “I said, ‘The show is about your two characters, and with that comes this responsibility,’ ” Kripke says. Padalecki remembers the exact setting of what he calls their “Good Will Hunting moment,” a bench in Stanley Park in Vancouver, where they film. It was a chat both actors took to heart. “We’d both been on other sets,” Ackles says. “We knew we wanted to enjoy it, to have fun with our crew; we wanted them to like us and us to like them and to have fun doing what we do.” It’s an attitude Pedowitz hopes bleeds into other CW shows, an attitude that launched an annual tradition where the CW chairman/CEO takes his new casts out to dinner with the Supernatural guys, a chance for the vets to share advice. “It’s always the most flattering situation,” Padalecki says, recalling a moment he had a few years back with the late Luke Perry, who was a part of the Riverdale cast. “Luke was sitting next to me and he was like, ‘What y’all have done and what we hear about you guys, it’s really cool to be associated with y’all in some way, shape, or form,’” he recalls. “And I’m sitting there pinching myself.”

It’s a behind-the-scenes legacy that’s perhaps just as impressive, if not more so, than the onscreen legacy. Collins, 45, who started as a guest star and the show’s first angel in season 4, has become the show’s third-longest-running series regular, and he still remembers walking onto set his first day. “When you’re coming onto a show as a guest star, it can be a little bit nerve-racking,” Collins says. “Coming to this set, it was an immediately different vibe. Think- ing about working on other shows in the future, that’s something that I aspire to bring with me.”

A similar reputation extends to the fans as well. Not only is the #SPNFamily one of the most dedicated fandoms out there, it’s also known to be a pretty nice one. (Not many fandoms can say they’ve helped launch a crisis support network for their fellow fans.) But their dedication isn’t just about seeing what crazy twist God throws at Team Free Will next. Thanks to fan conventions and social media, the viewers are just as invested in the lives of the actors. Supernatural’s not just about the words on the page, it’s about the actors saying them. “When you’re dealing with the public taste, there’s an alchemy of great writing, a great idea, and the close-up that’s required,” Peter Roth, chairman of Warner Bros. Television Group, says. “You need stars who you want in your living room.” And you need stars who want to be in your living room, and who, even after 15 years, care so deeply that they get emotional while taking photos in Malibu.

"It's going to be a long eight months," Ackles declares. Standing on that same ledge, an hour before the champagne shot, Ackles, Padalecki, and Collins walk away from a group hug after unexpectedly starting to tear up. It might be the setting — looking out over the ocean — or the occasion: their last-ever photo shoot. Or maybe it’s the fact that they’re almost a month into filming their final season.

It had been a question posed to the stars for years: How long will this show continue? How long can it continue? “Even my mom and dad were like, ‘When are you going to be done with this?’” Ackles says with a laugh. It was a decision the network and studio had ultimately put into the actors’ hands, and it was a conversation they’d been having for a while. Back in 2016, Padalecki told EW, “If we don’t make it to [episode] 300, I think Ackles and I will both be truly bummed.” But in season 14, they hit 300…and then kept going. While filming episode 307, they announced the upcoming 15th season would be the end, which will bring them to a total of 327 episodes when all is said and done. “[Jared] and I were always married to the fact that we never wanted to go out with a diet version of what we had,” Ackles says. “We wanted to have enough gas left in the tank to get us racing across the finish line. We didn’t want to limp across.” Padalecki remembers the moment it hit him — not the decision to end it, but rather the opposite. “We had that moment where he and I both realized that we didn’t want it to end,” he says. “It finally got to a point, ironically, where it was like, ‘I never want to leave this. I could do this until the day I die, and then if I get the choice when I’m dead, I’ll re-up!’ But you never want to be the last person at a party. We just knew. That’s not to say there haven’t been vacillations, but we all trust the decision that was made.”

Starting in July 2019, the cast and crew returned to Vancouver to begin filming the final season, but in March 2020, with two episodes left to go, they were sent home. For years, fans had wondered what, if anything, could stop the Winchesters, and now it seems we have the answer: a global pandemic. As sets closed amid social-distancing measures due to the spread of COVID-19, it didn’t take long for fans to start connecting the dots, sharing relevant GIFs from episodes that featured viruses, most notably Chuck telling Dean to hoard toilet paper “like it’s made of gold” before the end of the world in season 5’s “The End.” (Did we mention that Supernatural is also kind of psychic? In a season 6 episode, Dean calls Sam “Walker, Texas Ranger,” which just so happens to be the role Padalecki has lined up after this ends.)

When production paused, it all felt a little like we were living in an episode of the show, just waiting for Sam and Dean to drive up in Baby, open those creaky doors, and save us. They might not be able to do quite that, but the thing with the Winchesters is that they never stay down for long. When Supernatural is able to safely resume production, it will. And though there are only two episodes left to film, fans will enjoy a total of seven unseen hours, including the return of Charlie (Felicia Day) and a mystery woman who visits the bunker and, for some reason, gives Sam and Dean all the holidays they never got to celebrate. “She makes Christmas for them and Thanksgiving, birthday parties, and all that. It’s a very good episode,” Singer says, adding, “I don’t know when it’s going to air.”

That’s the thing—no one knows, not even the guys who took out Yellow Eyes, stopped Leviathans, defeated Death himself, and are supposedly destined to be the messengers of God’s destruction. But Sam and Dean do know the value of a good plan B. “Obviously it’s a horribly unfortunate situation we’re in, but the silver lining is that it gives us an opportunity to recharge,” Ackles says. “We had just finished episode 18, we shot one day of episode 19, and I was reading these two monster scripts thinking, ‘It’s like we’re at the end of a marathon and they want us to sprint for the last two miles.’ I feel like this almost gives us an opportunity to refocus and go into the last two episodes and hit them with everything we got.” Because when they do return to set, shave their quarantine beards, and step back into Sam and Dean’s shoes for the last time, they’ll have one shot at ending this thing…and they’re determined not to miss. 

Photos: Peggy Sirota for EW 

https://ew.com/tv/supernatural-stars-cover-ew-to-reflect-on-the-shows-undying-legacy/

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Ransom Drysdale x Reader (Dad!AU)

Summary: Ransom Drysdale, a man who didn’t make wise decisions in his teens. Wasting three years of his life in jail, he takes his freedom for another two. Little did he know, a woman he long ago had a thing for, ends up leaving him with a 16-year-old for the holidays. Hazel Rose Drysdale. His daughter.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

This takes place after Knives Out. Family will be mentioned, there will be minor spoilers for Knives Out.

Warnings: Bad parenting, swearing, Ransom being an asshole, minor spoilers for Knives Out, angst, mentions of murder/jail, minor mental abuse, mentions of abortion/pregnancy, Mentions of suicide

I do not consent to have my work hosted on any second party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

There’s a Hamilton reference in here and I couldn’t help but throw it in there.

You always thought San Francisco was a horrible place to be on your own for. Having a job there, you’d be an hour late if you lived outside the city. This year had been tough on you. You felt like your rent was going up or that your job was getting lower paychecks. Your head was spinning every day that you could barely answer anyone’s questions. The lack of sleep you get every night, especially having to wake up every day at six. 

You fix yourself a coffee but then end up at a nearby Starbucks to grab one. They always had better coffee for your energy gain. You weren’t really a money maker, you drove a very old red Honda. You have bills coming in through the mail slot that it has you wanting to burn them to ashes. You couldn’t handle enough stress, especially having a 16-year-old daughter.

At that age that’s when you had your only precious little girl, Hazel. You always made sure she never met any boy that could have her end up like you long ago. Being a teen mom wasn’t easy. Even lying to your daughter was something you couldn’t bear to keep from. It was only to protect her.

Hazel never spoke once about who her father was. As a child, she had dolls and those dolls were a family. One mother, one daughter and a father. Hazel made them the happiest dolls in her mind. She never asked anything related to her family’s relations or where they lived.

She was home schooled since, you were too afraid to have her at school and be bullied by boys or girls. It was something you dealt with and you didn’t want that to happen to her. You didn’t have the money for her too. Gas money, bills, dinner and rent were your only priorities. To have a roof over Hazel’s head, to drive her to the library or stores to get new outfits, feed her every morning, afternoon and night. Like you said, it wasn’t easy.

Your parents live up in Oregon for a while now and you would sometimes visit them over the holidays. Their reactions to your pregnancy, it didn’t end well. The few weeks of being pregnant, they were disappointed. The father’s side of the family had been one of the most entitled families in town. You grew up in Massachusetts and when you got pregnant, your parents moved to Oregon after you had Hazel. 

And Hazel’s father abandoned you. Being 17 and 16, you were the one scared while he watched you in disgust and asked to abort your child. That decision was one of the hardest decisions of your life. Either live with the pain of delivering your baby girl or painfully lay on your bed thinking you could’ve had a good life with your daughter.

And you did have a good life whether you struggled to keep her happy. You hope no boy or man could ruin her reputation and lose hope in the world to make someone happy. “Miss L/N.” The dark velvet voice made you lose your trance and your eyes darted over to your boss. Or someone who is your guide for three years. 

Mr. Charles Leyman. His blonde hair was combed to the side, his piercing blue eyes could have any office women get lost in. His suits were always made fine by a professional and his watches always came in different colors. Surely, they were over a thousand dollars. Charles had been your guide since you joined the large business in San Francisco. He was very kind, charming and he always knew personal space. 

He always had a circle around him and it’d smell like his expensive cologne. Out of the cologne you’ve known, this one smelled like Guilty Intense. The Italian lemon, patchouli, amber, mandarin, and orange flower topping aroma was always attracting women. You wondered if he was a mama’s boy just on how much of a gentleman he was.

You saw his side grin creep up to his face, “You must be preoccupied in your own mind palace,” He mentioned towards you. Your hand reaches up to the small strand of hair and you pull it back. “Sorry.” Charles folds his hands in each other and leans on his desk. The man was in his thirties, a couple more years older than you. 

“You know, you don’t always have to apologize for everything you do that is no harm. I just didn’t want you to be stuck in your head, Miss L/N.” Your head lifts up to him. He softly grins, “I wanted to discuss your recent report on the Berkeley College. Something about the Science and Technology Event on October 28th.”

You gently tilted your head, “What about it?” Charles lifted the print of the page and scanned through as if he wasn’t sure himself what the problem was. He clicks his tongue, “You kind of repeated yourself in a couple paragraphs. Even spelling errors. Have you been using-”

You nod, eyes closing slowly out of embarrassment, “Yes, I was. But I think our internet was shut off due to th-”

“That forum doesn’t need the internet to correct your mistakes. It corrects off Wi-Fi.” You sighed softly, turning your gaze away from him and he lowers the paper down to look at you, solemnly. “Look, Miss L/N. I’m not here to criticize you, I’m here to help you. And I know you have a 16-year-old at home and the father’s passing, you-”

“I will say this once and I hope you take it as it is. I’m fine.” Charles leans back a little to your response. Watching you closely to see your hands fidget in your lap. He almost felt like a brother to you, but there were moments where he offered you to dinner and almost walked you over to your car. It was embarrassing to see him and his silver Audi. You were sure he had a Tesla. The invites to his home were always nice. Charles knew your daughter well.

They got along well and never heard a single bad thing from Hazel, saying she had a good time with Charles. Hazel always told you how much fun she had with anything, she walks over to the public library, tells you about a book she read. You know she went to the library when she texted you earlier this morning.

That day, you relaxed at your desk and looked over the recent drafts of your future reports to go on the papers. You feel your phone ring and your hand picks it up from the desk. 

Incoming call from Hazel-Bear

You picked up the phone and held it up to your ear, “Hey, baby.” 

“Hey, mom. Can you pick me up?” You look over to the wall with the clock, showing the time. You were only a few ways away. “Can you wait for 10 minutes?” You hear Hazel hum in a yes, “Yeah. I’m just sitting in the library.” You began to close your computer and logged off. “Okay, honey. I’ll text you when I get there.” You started to put your papers in your bag and slipped in your laptop. “Okay. Bye, mom! Love you.”

“Love you, too. I’ll see you.”

Hazel was always the type to listen. As a child, she wasn’t spoiled as much because of what you had as a teenager. You were glad she didn’t end up like her father. She was sweet. Her smiles always made everyone welcomed in her space. Gatherings and meetings, your co-workers and friends always chatted about your daughter. Hazel would always keep a conversation lit up and she’d make every interesting comment. Being a book-worm, she would go on and on like a Stephen King book or become William Shakespeare and her words were strong.

You’d do anything for her, no matter what. Picking her up at the library was always a doing for you. The distance wasn’t long but you enjoyed picking her up there. 

You pull up to the front of the library and see your daughter come up to the side of the door and jump in. “Thank you, mom,” She says, you greet her with a smile and watch her hold a book in her hand. “You’re welcome, honey. Did you return Hesse?”

Hazel nods and looks over to you, “Yeah. And I found this interesting book called Vulcan’s Den. Everyone’s been reading the author’s books since he died 5 years ago.” You glance over to her, seeing her eyes read the story in her hands. She looked like she was through 10 chapters already. “Hm. Who’s the author?”

“Harlan Thrombey.”

Your face froze into a fit of shock. Your fists twist around the wheel and Hazel spoke the whole time but then realized you had been temporarily deaf. “...he committed suicide.”

You look up to see the red light and you step on the break causing the car to jerk forward a bit. Your eyes lower to your hands on the wheel, “What, sweetheart?” Hazel turns and gently closes her book. “I said, he was found dead in his home. Committed suicide.” Hazel turns back to her book with a grin. “He was a really good author. I’ve been thinking about writing stories, too! He always knew how to make crime and mysteries such a good genre.”

Your eyes stare in front like you just ran over someone but all you could do is nod and say, “That’s... tragic, sweetheart. I’m sure he would’ve loved to hear your stories.” And your way back home was silent for the next 10 minutes. The only name coming to flood your mind like a banshee. Screaming internally, your  heart felt like pin needles were jabbing into it and your breathing somewhat became more quite. As if you died in your seat but your mind kept going on.

Harlan Thrombey.

A man who writes like he’s running out of time.

That night, you had just made dinner and sat in the small living room watching television as usual. Glancing over to the kitchen sharing with the dining room, you see Hazel at the table, eating and reading the book she got today. You  couldn’t help but grin at her read the book with such concentration. 

You turn your gaze over to the TV but you didn’t pay mind to it. The sounds of your neighbors playing music or their dogs barking above you. Hazel closes her book and sighs softly. “Oh mom?” She asks, you turn to her, raising your brows up. “Hm?”

Her hand rests on the table as she turns her body towards you, “There’s this musical coming into Oakland in December and I was thinking we can get tickets? I don’t know if you’re familiar with Hamilton.” You tried not to give Hazel the look of ‘I’m sorry’, you just stared at her blankly, trying to sound less of a bad mother. Sure the tickets were a bit over 50 dollars. You couldn’t even nod as you sighed, “We’ll see, sweetheart.”

Hazel turns away and picks up her book to head over to her room and you tried not to think about Harlan.

Yes, he was familiar to you. A famous author who published hundreds of books based on mysteries and murder. You weren’t there when Harlan was killed. But you knew someone at work who actually wrote the report about him. Police finding out about not only his suicide but his oldest grandchild was in jail for murder and arson. 

You didn’t know much but you’ve read the report so many times. Harlan was a good author and you were happy to see your daughter read a book from someone who was related to her. Hazel never knew much about her father’s side of the family. You tried your best to keep her silent about it and she never asked once. 

You remembered you had things that could make her brighten up. You stood up from your spot and made your way into your bedroom. You walked over to your closet and turned on the light to look up. Seeing a dark box written ‘Books’ on the side, you reach up and slid it off the edge and into your arms. You placed it on your bed and reached in for the book collection with Harlan’s name printed on every book.

You opened one and saw a small message written in cursive with his name at the end. Harlan always gave you the first copy and made sure you gotten them. His books made it into films and he gave you the movies and that’s where these old films laid in. Hazel will like to watch these over and over. “Ro, baby,” You call out.

You hear her call back and made her search around the apartment and met you in the bedroom. You turned and sat on the edge of your bed. “You love books, right?” You asked. Hazel nods questionably, “Yeah?” You placed your hand on the edge of the box, “These are special and old. It might not sound real to you but these are all first copies.” Hazel makes her way over and slightly gasps.

“They’re... Harlan books?” She pulls them out and opens the first book, “And he signed them!” Hazel looks up to you with a smile. Shockingly, it made you smile, “I want you to take care of these really good for me, okay? You can take them to your room and read them.” Hazel slams herself into your chest and hugs you tightly.

“Thank you, mom.”

You wrap your arms around her and held her there, placing a kiss on her head. “I love you, too, sweetheart.” Hazel wasted no time into bringing the books into her room. Her eyes scanned every letter written in the books by the author, himself. He kept calling you, sweetheart. Hazel wondered if you knew him really well. You collected every book from him and they were all first copies. The films were never used and they were amazing. Hazel began to pull each of them out on her bed and reached for the last book that was wider than the others.

Hazel lifts it up and sees the cute designs.

Memories.

Hazel turns around to sit on her bed as her fingers graze over the small stickers that were worn out. She read your name on the front of the cover and flipped the page over. Photos of her grandparents, your mom and dad taking you out to the lake. A couple pictures of you reading books. Your 15th birthday photo was very old and you looked just like her. Hazel flipped the next pages and the photos gotten bigger. And the months grew further on.

Pictures of you in a dress. Your junior year in a blue silk dress, your hair was perfectly done with a bit of makeup. Hazel had not seen you so beautiful with makeup on. With a small grin, she flips the page and there’s a photo of you again at what looked like your prom dance. Her grin slowly freezes when she sees someone stand next to you with a small grin.

His hair was slick back, his tuxedo was a matching blue and his bow tie was black. His jaw was sharp enough to cut paper. Hazel knew you had her at the age of 16, the date takes back a few months before your birthday. Hazel had to think he was someone you were with. A picture of carved initials with a heart around them.

The ‘R’ was carved along with your initial and in between your initials was a plus sign. Hazel grew more into the photos and kept going over the pages. The next photos never had the boy in the photos any more. But you had your hands on your stomach with a grin. You had to be about one month pregnant. But the boy you had in the other photos never appeared in these.

Then you happened to be in Oregon. You said you were born in Oregon and lived there since you were born. Where were you before? Hazel flipped a couple more and her photos came into view. Her baby pictures were old and very nicely situated. Hazel grins softly at the photos and opened the last page to have things slip out.

Hazel catches the piece of paper and small patch from a high school logo. She looks over the patch that must’ve came from a private school. She flipped it over and read it.

Hugh D. MA, Boston

Hazel furrowed her brows at the name. Hugh must’ve been a different boy you dated. She reaches for the paper that was partially ripped in half and placed the two together like a puzzle.

Ransom (xxx) xxx - xxxx

She read the letter and saw the added heart to his name. Ransom. Who was Ransom and Hugh? 

“Honey! Did you want to finish your show?” You called out to Hazel. The teenager puts the things back in the book and puts it back in the box. “Uh... Yeah! I’m coming!” And she covered it up with the others and made her way out of her room into the living room. Hazel couldn’t help but think about who her dad was. 

The next morning, you made breakfast and Hazel began to eat what you’ve made. Bacon, eggs and some toast. You poured her some juice and began to clean up your mess on the counter and placed a couple dishes into the dish washer. The sounds of Hazel’s utensils scrapping against the plate, she glanced up at you and saw your calm content face doing normal chores. 

“Who’s my dad?” 

You drop a plate from your hands and it falls into the sink once again and shatters in pieces causing Hazel to painfully watch and you turn to her. It was bound to happen, but you didn’t expect it this soon. You did you?  “What?” 

Hazel nibbles on her bottom lip and gently puts her fork down and pulls her hand to her lap. “I... I want to know who dad was.” You cross your arms and reached to grab your grin and rub the sides. Hazel lowers her gaze, “I saw two names in this photo book. Hugh and Ransom. I want to know who they were. And did my father actually die in an accident?”

It was like your worst fear and the countless nightmares were coming to life. Hazel sat there for answers now. You needed to give her small details in order for her to freak out less. You never wanted to upset Hazel. Just like you didn’t want to upset her father when you first told him the news.

“But I knew Harlan very well. I met him as a kid and he gave almost every first copy of his books. I knew him because I met his oldest grandson at the age of 15. His name was Hugh.”

“So is Ransom my biological father? And Hugh was just-” Hazel noticed the shook of your head, your lips pierced together as if you tried not to spill everything towards her. The fear to see her get scared of the truth. “Those names are from one person, sweetheart. He was complicated between his first and middle name. Hugh Ransom Drysdale. He was just a year older than me.” Hazel turns her head and whispers.

“Hazel Rose Drysdale.”

You hum in response, furrowing your brows. “Is he alive?” She asked, you instantly stand up, pushing yourself off the counter, “Honey, please. Finish eating.”

“I want to know, mom. Don’t I get to say anything about him-?”

“Hazel, please. Eat your food, I’m not in the mood now to discuss your family relations-”

“You’ve lied and I need to know what else you’ve been keeping away from me.” You turn away from her and finished off the last Tupperware and sighed. It was gonna take a while for her to lose the thoughts to go away and have her continue on something else. “Mom-”

“Hazel, please! I can’t discuss this now!” You snapped. Hazel’s fingers curl into her palm and she fidgeted her thumb under them. Her feet kick herself back and she stood up. “Thank you for dinner,” she muttered, leaving her plate on the table while making her way into her room. You sighed out of regret and turned to the window. 

You couldn’t tell if Hazel was crying or playing music to calm herself. You never outburst on her like that. Never in your days you’d shout at her. The mention of her father had to come out sooner or later. The truth never made its way over to you. Hazel wasn’t ready to find out. You weren’t ready to give it to her. Maybe never.

You just cleaned up her plate and put the leftovers in the fridge in case she wanted more since she barely ate thinking too much about her father. 

You got a shower going and left the house, leaving a note on Hazel’s door. Your drive to work was a bit long but you managed to get there in time. Taking the elevator to the office floor, you set up your stuff on your desk and began to go through your recent reports.

Checking every wording and errors you can spot.

A soft knock hits your wall and a woman peaks over. Your office neighbor. “Morning, babes. How you doing?” 

You let out a soft sigh, “Morning, Ciara.” Your fingers worked against the keyboard, writing away till someone takes your chair and spun you around. The red-head lightly glares in your eyes. You turn your head, “What?” You asked, Ciara squints her eyes. “What happened?” She replies with the same questionable tone. All you did was shake your head and Ciara pouts at you. She was never going to let you get away that easily.

.

“She knows about her dad?”

You nod towards her, raising your mug up to your lips to regain your energy. Ciara pinches her chin to be in a thinking stance and her brows bounce up, “Well, shit.” You look over to her and she lightly laughs. “What am I going to do?” You ask.

Ciara thinks, “Well... I don’t think you can keep her away forever.”

“What do you mean?” You ask once more, Ciara tilts her head at you and that made your heart drop. “No. No! I cannot do that-” Ciara drops her arms from the crossing and sighs. “Y/N, you really messed up the pooch here. If my mom lied about my dad being dead, I would’ve wanted to meet him.”

“You don’t know what he’s like,” You said, “He’s arrogant. A complete asshole-”

“Okay! Okay... but your daughter would have to at least get to know him. Give her a few days. Weeks. Who knows? Maybe he’ll come around. Hazel needs a father figure in her life and every kid would want to have their parents together.” You shook your head softly and raised your glass back up to your lips and took a large sip. 

You wouldn’t trust Ransom being with Hazel for who knows how long. You couldn’t trust yourself to stay a day there. You wouldn’t last a minute to be in the same room with him. But you thought about Hazel. You felt more selfish for yourself than for Hazel. You had your dad but she never got to see him once. You kept him under a rock that Hazel couldn’t lift up and now she found his photo. 

She found you and him together. 

There can’t be a way to change her mind. Unless she stays with him. The holidays were coming up. Thanksgiving was only a few weeks away. Maybe you’d give her that much time with him. Ciara’s face leans down to look at you in the eye. For some kind of response for her to agree or to push. 

Your mug lowers from your face and you two just shared looks.

.

That day, you made your way back home after your work was finished. You felt like you swallowed bees. You didn’t bother to text Hazel you were coming home or that you were going to talk to her. You just needed to be home right away to talk to her. To tell her everything.

You were afraid to give her everything about him. You needed to take it slow every now and then. 

The moment you stepped into your apartment you dropped your bag and opened Hazel’s bedroom, seeing her on her bed with her laptop on her lap. “Hey, mom,” She says.

You grin softly, “Can I talk to you?” Hazel did not refuse and she watches you sit on the edge of her bed. Hazel knew this certain stance of a parent. “I know this morning was not my morning. But... I want you to know that I love you very much. And that I did not mean to yell. But I am willing... to tell you about your father. He didn’t die in an accident.”

Hazel closes her laptop and gently pulls her knees to cross in front of her. You did it yourself, crossing your leg over the other. “What do you want to know?” You ask in a calm voice. Hazel lowers her gaze to think about the millions of questions already scrambling through her head like a roller coaster. 

She finally caught one, “What was dad like?” She says, shyly. This was the question you didn’t want to hear from her. But you had to anyway, “He was... difficult to work with in school. His family was rich and so anything he could do wouldn’t be a problem. He was kind in some moments, I remembered his father always fought with him.”

“Did he leave when... you were?”

Hazel noticed your soft nod and your head lowers, picking at your nails like you were a little girl again. How much you blushed when he came toward you like you saw him for the first time. The way he pulled a strand behind your ear. He never complimented much nor did he say ‘I love you’. 

“We were around your age when I found out about you. After I told him, his parents flipped. And after a few days, he yelled and left. That’s when I moved to Oregon with your grandma and grandpa.” You reach for her hair and pushed it behind her ear. Just like he did to you.

Your hand rests on the sheets and you softly sighed. Regretting these words slip out like a load of cash falling out of an ATM. “If I trust you... to call me everyday, every night. I might consider something.”

“Consider what?” She asks, you don’t respond to her and that made her eyes slowly go wide. “To visit him?” You take her hand and gently grasped it. “I am sending you to Boston.”

“You can’t come?” She asked. You shook your head and reached up for her cheek. “I think it’s best to stay here and keep going to work. I have a project and I hate to leave you, but I really want you to call me. I love hearing your voice.” Hazel grins and nods. “Thank you, mom.”

You smile at her and pulled her to your chest. Placing a kiss on her forehead, you trusted her more now. The least of trust was from her father. The most scary thing to do was to call him. Hazel pulls away and she slips something into your hand. “What’s this?” You asked.

You opened the small note and read the similar number with his name written nicely in. “In case you didn’t have it.” You held the paper tight in your hand and turned to Hazel one last time before standing up. “Dinner will be ready in a couple minutes.” Hazel nods and went back to her own things as you left her room and went into yours.

You pulled out your phone and stared at the keypad. His number sitting on the paper, urging you to not call. 16 years apart, you never thought it’d come to this day. His daughter to stay with him for a while. What if he was still in jail? He could be with another woman and it’d be too late for Hazel to be with a man who’s married to another woman.

It’d be awkward.

Your thumb automatically pushes the numbers and your thumb hovers over the call button. Your breath began to get caught in your throat. Your eyes began to water and your fingers shook. You clicked the button and heard it buzz in your ear.

The ring went off.

You waited.

It rung again.

You swallowed hard. “Hello?”

“Hugh.”

“Who is this?”

“It’s me.”

“Who?”

“Y/N.”

There was a long pause. 

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[beauvibaby]

go swimming? - j.benn

requested [] yes [x] no

a/n: idek what this is, but I love it bc it’s Jamie, enjoy (not proofread)

You pushed open the back door, eyebrows instantly shooting up when your co-worker gasped in relief at your presence. “Y/N, thank god, there’s a line out the front door.” Mark gasped, and you hoped out of sight line from your boss, knowing you were early and he would have you clock in right away, the downfall of being slightly above the regular hourly employees, a shift leader, really but the only difference is you wore a different shirt. “Y/N, clock in!” Your boss, Tom, called from the front line, already beginning to put an apron on and get in the kitchen, “good luck!” Mark called from his prep station, shooting you a smirk when you glanced back with a glare. You shoved your things into the office, silencing your phone and shoving it into your pocket, you clocked in, in record time before turning to the expo counter and gasping at the nearly twenty minute tickets that hadn’t even begun to be prepared. “Read it off, Y/N, come on!” Your boss snapped, you pushed the annoyance aside, knowing despite him being a manager of his own store for years, he didn’t handle stress well. You began rattling off orders, food being slide over to you left and right, you continued to quickly tray it up, turning around and placing it on the counter, shouting out the name on the order into the full dining room.

This went on for over an hour, the lunch rush continuing, but finally once it slowed down enough you went out into the dining room to help the other girls clean up. Garbage was overflowing, the soda machine was out of more than a few things, napkins were empty, ketchup spilt on the counters by children. You held in a sigh as you made your way around the dining room, plastering that work smile on your face, taking empty bins and trays from people’s tables, the only thing that made today even a little better was seeing some of the regular guests in there. You chatted with them for a while, laughing at something the older gentleman said to you, his wife chastising him for keeping you up. “It’s alright, we all need a good distraction sometimes.” You shot him a wink as you walked off, silently telling him thank you. He chuckled, going back to playfully bickering with his wife, you shook your head with a smile, hoping one day that you and Jamie would be that lucky. You made your way to the back, gasping as you and Mark rounded the corner at the same time, sending his freshly cut food flying to the floor and the dirty dishes you had in your hands smushed to the front of your shirt. “Oh, I’m sorry!” Mark rushed, scrambling to help you pick up the food and plates, “it’s fine, I’ll get it, go cut more food before-“ “Mark, I need those tomatoes!” Tom shouted, rushing to the back and freezing when he saw them on the floor. “Jesus Christ.” He snapped storming back to the front, “waiting on tomatoes.” Tom muttered to the assistant manager who was looking at him expectantly.

“Go, Mark, I’ll clean this up.” You assured him, carefully squatting to scoop up the mess. You walked over to the sink, putting the dishes into the water, gasping at how frigid it was, you scrambled to drain it and replace it with the hot soapy water. “Y/N!” Lola gasped running over to you, “code brown.” She snapped, watching as your face fell, code red meant corporate was here, code yellow meant the healthy inspector was here, but code brown, that meant they were both here. “Go, go, go!” You demanded, jumping into defensive mode, “change the Sanitizer buckets.” You demanded, knowing that would be the first thing they checked. You ran over to the prep kitchen, “code brown!” You snapped, everyone went into a panic, scrambling to make sure everything was purposefully to code. “Nose goes!” Mark shouted, his finger shooting to the tip of his nose, everyone followed suit before you could even process it. “Fuck.” You muttered, going to find Tom. “Health inspector, and corporate just pulled up.” You mumbled, and he froze, muttering under his breath, he turned to give you a list of things to check. “You need to change your shirt.” He snapped, only then did you realize it was covered in smeared sauce from the dishes, “and then the normal routine!” He called into the kitchen as you ran towards the back door, you nodded, thankful for your decision to keep an extra shirt in your car for work.

Once you scrambled to change in the bathroom. You came out and were greeted by even more of a disaster, the health inspector shaking his head at Tom, along with Tom’s boss from corporate, Adam. Tom shot you a look and instantly you knew you’d be getting an earful from him once they left. The labels in the walk in freezer had timed out, and that was one of the things on your list. You shot them a smile, playing coy as you rushed towards the dining room, at least going to make sure everything up there was maintained properly.

***

“Y/N, office now.” Tom snapped, storming into the office, paperwork from the health inspector in hand, everyone shot you a look as they knew you were going to get ripped to shreds, as if it’s your fault that his employees don’t follow the rules. “I did my best, ok? Keep that in mind.” You grumbled daringly when the door shut, “I know.” He snapped, “we barely passed!” He slapped the paper down in front of you. You picked it up, and looked at the inspection, you scoffed, “these are all your problems, these are all kitchen markings, the dining room and cash registers were good!” You exclaimed, placing the paper back down. He looked at you, eyes ablaze, “don’t talk to me like that, Y/N, you’re pushing your luck.” He demanded and it pushed you over the edge, “no, I don’t think I am, I’m overworked and underpaid, you treat me more like a manager than your actual managers! So unless you want to pay me what I deserve, I think I might have to start looking for another job.” You crossed your arms, staring him down. “So are you saying you want me to put an ad out for a shift leader?” He retorted, sitting on his chair, making you feel belittled even though you were still standing. “If you don’t want to give me a raise like you should’ve done when I started wearing this special shirt, then yes, you should put an ad out.” You demanded, grabbing your purse, “would you look at that, my shift is over.” You scoffed, opening the door, “Y/N!” Tom stuck his head out of the doorway. You froze as your time card printed out, glancing over your shoulder at him as he spoke, everyone’s eyes ongoing between the two of you. “Be prepared to train your replacement.” His voice had venom dripping from it, and Lola gasped, nearly dropping the food she had in her hands, Mark shot daggers into the back of Tom’s skull. Everyone was shocked, to say the least, you’d been through so much here, you’d been here since the restaurant opened, people in corporate knew you by your first name alone, they wanted to use you in nationwide training videos. “Fine.” You hissed, pulling your composure together long enough to calmly walk to your car, but the second you shut your car door, you lost it, the weight of what has just happened hitting you. You pulled your phone out, dialing Jamie’s number before pulling out of your parking spot. “Hi, baby, heading home now?” He answered cheerfully, oblivious to how your voice was about to come out as a cry. “Jamie?” You whispered, “I think I just quit.” Your voice broke, you heard him sigh softly, “it’s alright, Y/N, don’t cry, please.” He mumbled, “drive safe, please, I’ll be here waiting for you.” He added, knowing you couldn’t speak about it while driving, he knew you, and he knew that you’d be too emotional. “Ok.” You whimpered.

***

The front door opened the second you parked your car in the driveway, Jamie had a soft, comforting smile on his face, arms opening when you climbed out of the car. “Hey.” Jamie spoke, frowning when you pouted up at him, “I hated that job, why am I so emotional?” You questioned, suddenly feeling stupid for the way you were reacting, and feeling like this only showed Jamie more of your age gap. “Because, that’s been your only job, baby, you’ve been there for years.” He brushed your stray hair back, “just because your boss was a prick, doesn’t make it any easier to leave, you made friends there, they’re family to you.” He explained, making sure you absorbed his words, you looked up at him, eyes wide, slightly teary, but mostly just nodding along with him. “Yeah.” You mumbled, “Wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, pulling you in for a quick kiss, before guiding you inside, you went on to explain everything to him, watching the way he clenched his jaw a little tighter when he listened to you tell him about the way Tom treated you. He never liked him, the first time Jamie met you, not shockingly at your job, he walked in with Tyler and a freshly drafted Miro, they all gave an odd glance as you walked back to the cash register, your boss angrily going to work on the expo counter.

“Hi, my name is Y/N, I’ll be taking your order, what can I get started for you today?” You spoke the rehearsed line, looking up you met Jamie’s eyes first, and that’s all it took, you were a grinning fool the rest of the day, your co workers teasing you all day, making fun of the blush that had stayed on your cheeks. When you went over to grab the stuff from their table, you were more than shocked to have the cute guy, who’s name you had finally learned was Jamie, had left his number on a napkin, his hand writing sloppily saying “please make sure Y/N gets this”

“I’m sorry, but you know what this means?” He questioned, voice raising a bit in excitement, you looked up from your spot on the couch, your head lazily resting in his lap while you spoke, “what?” You questioned, confusion covering your face. “You get to stay home with me while you look for a job, a job that you’ll love.” He spoke happily, fingers tracing your jaw. “That’s true.” You pondered, you would have the ability to find a job you really loved, you had money saved, you and Jamie lived together, it would be nice. “There’s that smile.” He hummed happily, you hadn’t even realized you’d begun beaming until he spoke up. “Thank you.” You whispered, sitting up to kiss him, laughing against his lips when he held you there. He finally released you, helping you sit up properly. “You are the best thing that came out of that job.” You spoke with one hundred percent certainty, moving to straddle his lap, he grinned childishly at your words, brown eyes showing his happiness. “Really?” He questioned, “Jamie, of course.” You giggled, cupping his bearded jaw, “that hell hole gave me my forever.” You told him cheesily, watching as he processed your words, his head falling back in laughter.

“Way to ruin the moment.” You scoffed teasingly, climbing off of his lap, “no, baby!” He whined, reaching for you, “it was sweet.” He added, gasping in fake shock when you stepped out of his reach again, you loved the moments like this, when you both just forgot about life and just had these fun childlike moments. “You know you can’t outrun me, right?” Jamie raised his brows, seeing the way you kept glancing at the hallway out of the living room. “Doesn’t mean I won’t try.” You teased, setting your phone on the coffee table, as well as taking your belt off from work that was suffocating you. “Five second head start, because I’ve had a bad day.” You pouted down at him, tilting your head just the right way to make your hair fall over your shoulder, you knew it always killed him when you did that, and you could tell by the look in his eyes that his mind was already wandering elsewhere. “Five seconds, that’s it.” He mumbled, arms grabbing the back of your thighs, you leaned down and gave him a quick teasing kiss, “that’s not fair.” He groaned, chasing your lips when you pulled away. “Sorry, bub, I never said I played fair, and I happen to think you like it a bit more this way.” You smirked, stepping out of his hold. He pouted at you, looking absolutely ridiculous with a pout surrounded by his bushy beard. “Love you!” You shouted, laughing as you took off down the hall, hearing him counting down, you grinned as you heard his feet rushing up behind you. “No!” You shrieked, laughing hysterically when he grabbed you from behind, easily swinging you around as he swayed over to the bed.

“Told you.” He mumbled against your neck, chastely kissing you there, dropping you onto the bed, laughing when you gasped face falling into the mattress. He flipped you over, hovering over you, admiring the way your eyes shined as you looked up at him. “What?” You whispered, blushing under his gaze, “nothing, you’re just so cute.” He complimented, “and pretty, and smart, and funny.” He added, watching the way you sheepishly looked away. “Don’t hide from me.” He chastised, tilting you back by your chin. “Stop making me blush.” You whined, wrapping your arms around his neck, “never.” He grinned, allowing you to pull him down for a kiss. Before it could get too heated you pushed him off softly, “want to go swimming?” You asked, smiling softly, it was a scorcher out today, and the thought of getting into the pool and floating around with Jamie sounded relaxing. “Mhm, but doesn’t it sound better to stay up here, in bed.” He tried to persuade you, but you didn’t budge, “please, baby.” You mumbled, knowing he would give in from the way you were looking up at him. “Fine.” He grumbled, rolling off of you, watching as you stood up, tossing your shirt off over your head, “well that’s just rude.” He sat up in record time, smiling as you winked at him over your shoulder, mischief dancing in your eyes. You giggled to yourself, as you changed in the closet, not that it mattered, Jamie peeked his head in, smirking when you looked over as you slipped the straps of your bathing suit onto your shoulders. “You’re a perv.” You teased, approaching him, seeing he’d already slipped into his swim trunks, tattoos on full display.

“Only for you.” He winked, following you down the stairs, and out towards the pool. He immediately got into the water, splashing you teasingly as you walked in slowly, hair tied in a messy bun on the top of your head. “Sometime today, baby, you’re really testing my patience.” He groaned, floating around in the water as he watched you slowly sink into the water, your body covered by the black one piece, cut outs adorning your sides. “Aw, poor boy.” You quipped, swimming over to him, arms circling around his shoulders, his resting in your hips, “yeah, you should really take pity on me, my girlfriend is being a huge tease today.” He mumbled, hiding his face in your neck, leaving some sloppy kisses, “oh is she?” You mumbled, smirking against his shoulder as you rested your head against him, soaking up this one on one time, he squeezed your sides. “Doesn’t take much to get you going.” You commented, smiling when he laughed softly, floating around in the water, your legs wrapped around his waist. “How could it when I’ve got this beautiful girl hanging off of me?” He retorted, holding under your thighs, letting you lean back in his hold, “such a sweet talker.” You giggled, smiling wholeheartedly at him, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Not really.” He tilted his head, smiling at you, splashing some water onto your shoulders as they already started turning pink under the sun. “I like it.” You shrugged, knowing sometimes he wondered if he treated you the way you wanted to be treated. “Hey, don’t get all shy on me now.” You mumbled, catching his lips, “you’re my flirty man, but you know when I’m not in the mood, and you drop it, and you let me cry on you, and you go swimming with me even though I was just teasing you. You take me to your games, you give the best hugs, and you love my family as much as your own.” You rambled, stopping when a grin etched onto his face. “Alright, alright, I get it, I love you.” He murmured, kissing you softly again, but this time you let it progress. “I love you too, now let’s get out of this pool, you’ve been patient enough.” “Thank god.”

Taglist: @softstarkey​ @kempe​ @wtfkie​ @mtkachuk​ @literarycharleton​

[nikkxb]

20 Questions- writing edition!

Stole it from @neutronstarchild​ because it looks like fun!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 71!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 320,612. It’s crazy to me that I’ve posted that many words.

3. How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they? Uh. It says 9, but it’s really 6, only one of those is an AU of my own original work, so technically it’s only 5 when you remove duplicates (the three FFVII, the two Howl’s Moving Castle) and only count established fandoms.

4. What are your Top Five Fics by Kudos?

Smut Collection -- Naruto; Multi-Saku

Morning Explorations -- Naruto; KisaSaku

Claiming -- Inuyasha; KogKag

Defensive Interference -- Inuyasha; KogKag

A Chance Encounter -- Inuyasha; SessKag

All but the last one is smut. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes, for the most part. A few have slipped through the cracks and if someone goes on a comment spree, I’ll usually respond to a few of those. I like to make sure everyone who comments knows they’re comment has been seen and appreciated.

6. What fic have you written with the angstiest ending? Reflections. I don’t write non-happy endings, but that fic is just angst through and through, in a decently subdued (for the themes) kind of way.

7. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? All That Glitters, I think. I’m sure a few of my one-shots might be “happier” but I don’t really consider them like I do AtG. That ending is fluff. Even the epilogue and the bonus scene, it’s just fluff. And it makes me really happy.

8. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written? No. I used to read so many of them, but I’ve never written them.

9. Have you ever received hate on a fic? I write kogkag. Of course I have. Every kogkag author that’s posted on FFN up until 2018 has received hate and all from the same person. It’s absolutely ridiculous. But for my fics personally? Yes, absolutely. I love AUs in a fandom that doesn’t, I really enjoy age gap ships, and people really didn’t like Kouga five years ago.

10. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes. And also yes. I don’t think there’s a kind I haven’t? Fluffy, emotional, angsty, PWP, BDSM-lite, threesomes, FWB, first times, all sorts. I think I’ve written non-con, but I don’t know if that’s on AO3.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes. Every once in a while, some of my Naruto fics will end up floating around Wattpad. It’s aggravating, but they’re usually dealt with quickly.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? YES! A very kind reader translated one of my fics to Russian, I am beside myself over it!

13. Have you ever co written a fic before? Nope! I have no consistency with writing and there are times my brain will flat out refuse to work on a fic. I don’t want to leave a partner in that kind of muck, so I just admire those that do.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? KogKag for sure. I can bounce all over the place and there are a lot of fandoms where I’m more multishipper than picking one, but that one has my heart.

15. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Little Touches. I want to finish this one so bad, but I have no idea how to finish it. I don’t know where it’s going. My style of writing has changed so much since I started writing it, I have no idea how to salvage it. But I’m never going abandon it and I’ll keep chipping away at different ideas for as long as I can.

16. What are your writing strengths? Pulling AUs out of my ass. Writing smut. Usually pretty good at writing friendships. World building.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Plotting. Trying different sentence structures. Establishing things outside of the main focus of the story.

18. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Find someone who is fluent in the language to help you. Having the culturally correct words is very different from the academic or Google versions. (I had a big old rant about how I personally approach the idea of including other languages, but it’s not necessary when the most important part boils down to the above.)

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for? Harry Potter. It was never finished, never posted, and the draft is still sitting in my story folder. Where it will remain until I die. Inuyasha was the first one I shared.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? I hate this question. How am I supposed to know the answer. The Legend of Illethai Mobre. Every other answer felt wrong.

Tagging: I stole it, steal it from me. And tag me so I can read your answers!

[mistymark]

nct dream as college kids

RENJUN

works on campus til late

always asleep

likes to study in the library because its the only place he can get some bloody peace

texts jaemin to bring him food

went to the on-campus gym once and never went back

complains about parking on campus

complains about his friends on campus

but he loves them and always organises activities and catch ups

the glue that keeps everyone in touch despite their different degrees and campuses

laughs too loud and always gets stared at for doing it in class

once got kicked out of the library for his loudness

to be fair, he did accidentally fall out of his chair... and pull the table down with him

his id actually looks good

does half the pre-reading then just listens to lectures to understand the rest

o ve. r whe l me d

still maintains a brilliant GPA

his project group members always love him

JENO

wears hoodies and sweats to every class

still looks really good though

and distracts everyone in his classes

lives off free food at parties and tight-ass tuesdays specials

is in advanced classes bc he had the grades for them but doesnt understand shit

still manages to look bored in class even when hes confused and/or focused

sits in the back and then squints at the board bc mans cant see

carries like three things with him to every class

owns one (1) pen

he doesnt even write anything with it he just chews on it during class

everyone thinks its hot but the guy sitting beside him (jaemin) looks disgusted the entire time

has received many anonymous love letters on facebook but hasn't read any of them

not to be mean - he just doesnt find it interesting

drafted a love letter to someone in one of his lectures and then deleted it

hasn't looked at the page since

actually does the pre-reading

then gets bored in lectures when they just go over what he read about

JAEMIN

smiles 24/7 even when hes stressed

supportive af tho

always sporting the Cozy aesthetic

wears sweaters and vests in temperatures you'd think wouldnt be suitable but the boy doesnt appear to sweat???

wears rly cute glasses sometimes and !!!!!!!!

waves at people he knows

does not hesitate to run up to people and start conversations with them out of nowhere

attends Donghyuck’s parties to SpEnD TimE WiTh HiS fRieNdS

has never lost a game of beer pong

girls say he gets 10x hotter when hes drunk because hes way more flirtatious and fun

but he probably just flirts w Jeno the whole time

walks into lectures with sunglasses on and everyone knows what happened the night before

never leaves the house without food

his backpack is 30% necessities like laptop, books, phone, keys etc.

and 70% granola bars and fruit

doesnt want to spend money on food on campus

drinks way too much boba tho

is in Disney society and probably becomes co-president after a year

DONGHYUCK

throws parties for every no reason

wears the same outfit every day bc he knows he looks good

youngest kid in his frat

talks a lot of shit about how hes a player and can get any girl he wants but the second a girl looks at him hes a blubbering mess

in fact, hes probably got a huge crush on someone in his lecture that hes never talked to

attends online lectures so he can play video games at the same time

has to be told to turn his mic off during group discussions because hes eating really loudly

isn't afraid to talk in class

sometimes rocks up wearing something outside of his normal dress code because hes still discovering his style

but everything he tries suits him

basically started the bucket hat trend - he claims so anyway

won't let anybody touch his student id

no one has seen the photo but many speculations have been made over how bad it is

the only person who has seen it is one of the librarians

Chenle and Jisung made it their mission to see it but to this day they havent been able to get it

its a series on Chenle’s tiktok bET

CHENLE

became famous on tiktok over the summer so now everyone knows who he is ??

does wild shit bro

does vlogs with his friends

‘I joined the kpop dance club at my college and it went like this”

lots of videos of him and his friends going batshit crazy at night

wears expensive yet extremely tasteful clothing

catch him walking around campus in pressed shirts

never looks tired ??????? how does he cope ??????

tags jisung in love letters that are definitely not for him

tags jisung in love letters that are definitely for him

probably wants to start a youtube channel when he graduates

girls want to date him but more often guys want to be him

is super nice but

glares at anyone who says he doesnt need a degree to take over daddy’s business

did a kiss or slap challenge once and everyone kissed him and its very pure

maintains solid grades

everyone knows who he is whether they know him from tiktok or not

probably on really good terms with his professors

loves to send emails ?

JISUNG

that one kid in high school that became super hot over the summer

people from his school dont even recognise him

makes the older kids feel gross when they realise hes younger than they are and they've been thirsting over him for ages

people who wouldnt even glance in his direction in high school now want to be his friend

mostly keeps to himself and his studies

joins a few clubs and societies

got roped into Disney society by jaemin

had to attend the ball and wanted to die when he got crowned as the official prince

I dont think he did Disney society the year after

though he did think the dancing at the ball was fun and joined a dance troupe

gives his number to people in his project group then forgets to respond when they text him

does his work tho so who can complain

dies of embarrassment whenever he sees chenle has tagged him in love letters on facebook

at some point chenle has downloaded tinder onto his phone and tried to match him with people

[gongju-juice]

6. Once Upon A Southern Night

I Won’t Hesitate

Warnings: the usual, language, some rAuNcHy InTeRaCTiOn

You laid sleeplessly in his bed. These days were so lonely, Jasper and the wolves were always fighting, and in the daytime, Ava trained you in magic. 

You’d made quite a bit of progress, but it always drained you physically. Being a witch was not as easy as they made it out in the movies. It was about refining your energy, making sure a face-full of gravity didn’t hit you in the face and incapacitate you. You’d done that a couple of times already.

The limits of being a witch was still undefined. Because you and your sister were only half—as were most modern witches—there were still so many things and spells you couldn’t access or perform. Still, Ava knew how to do just about everything.

She could fly and shadow travel for short distances, was completely impervious to all human weapons, could breathe without oxygen and create breath-taking illusions that could completely fool and take down an unsuspecting vampire. You barely even knew how to affect the temperature around your body, much less create fire—the new skill she was trying to get you to master.

You would never be ready by the time Preston and Maria arrived.

Uncle Carlisle contacted some of their old friends. The Denali clan came down from Alaska, Alistair from the English countryside, and the Egyptian coven from the east. The shapeshifters were not thrilled to have vampires trespassing near their land, and Edward kindly informed them of the coming wave of newborns. 

Jasper took control in training everyone to fight, though it seemed some of them already had prior experience. He showed the wolves how to avoid the crushing arms of a vampire and how to mobilize their forces to focus on a specific target.

Meanwhile, you were on the sidelines wasting all the time trying to make a leaf catch on fire. You felt like you were doing nothing—and what was the point? Ava could’ve been training by herself, honing her own skills. Instead, she was beating you with a stick everytime you failed—which was every time.

That was until her friend, Zacarias, arrived.

He was tall and very well-defined, like he’d been lifting heavy tools all his life. His skin was the color of dark chocolate, eyes a metallic bronze. He arrived just before you were about to give up, just before you caved in front of a group of fully capable vampires.

“So this is the little bear,” he said, chuckling. “Wow, you always described her like she was so tiny. She’s bigger than I thought. 

“Little bear?”

“That was your nickname,” Ava explained, “Because you had thick curly dark hair.”

“Who gave me that nickname?”

She faltered before walking away. You knew who gave it to you, even if she refused to say his name.

“I heard you’re having trouble with your magic. That’s okay, it’s expected for the first few weeks. You’re only a half-blood, after all. But now you’ve got me, and I’ve never had a student fail,” Zacarias promised. 

Suddenly, he launched you straight into the air. You were hovering in place, your body stuck where the tip of the trees touched the sky.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jasper demanded, dropping Eleazar, his opponent. His eyes glowed protectively. The Major had taken control. “Put her down immediately. And trust me, you don’t want to make me have to do it.”

Zacarias dusted off his hands. “It’s part of her training, Whitlock. Try not to be on edge, alright? Trust me, her instincts will kick in if she wants to get down.”

You struggled in the air, flailing your arms and trying to move your body. But the air was so stiff around you, like gravity had the opposite effect. Birds flew past you, cocking their heads at you with their curious beady eyes.

“She doesn’t need no training!” Jasper insisted.

The witch rolled his eyes. “Fine, if that’s the way it’s going to be. I’ll put her down.”

Now you were plummeting down to the ground. You screamed, shielding your arms over your face. I’m going to die, you thought. And in the most embarrassing way.

Jasper, climbing up a tree, was preparing to catch you. But now you were no longer hurtling down to the ground. The grass stopped about a foot from where you hovered above the ground, and you felt something like electricity buzzing in your veins.

“I told you, I’ve never had a student fail,” Zacarias smirked. “Works every time.”

“If you ever try some shit like that without my permission—” Jasper started.

“How else is she supposed to protect herself? If Preston decides he wants to snap her neck, what’s she supposed to do? She’s a witch, Whitlock. More powerful than any of you standing here. But the only way she’s ever going to unlock that power is by coming out of her comfort zone. This isn’t the Civil War anymore, Major. You aren’t the leader of this circus.”

That night, surprisingly, Jasper made it to his—your temporary bedroom. His room was filled with shelves of books, little collectables and trinkets from over the years. He’d never even had a bed until you arrived, but he made sure to buy a big enough mattress where you both could fit on it.

“Jas?”

He stopped just inches from the bed. “Thought you were asleep. You’re so quiet up here.”

“Where are the others?”

“Carlisle and the family took the others to feed outside of Forks. The wolves are back in human form in La Push, and the witches are at the hotel to rest for the night.”

“Jasper?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Can you please get in with me?”

He was hesitant for a moment before giving up and climbing in the covers. He held you tightly to his body, your head resting in the crook of his neck.

“There’s so much we have to talk about,” you whispered.

“I know, and I’m not going to lie, I haven’t been the most doting in the last few weeks. The wolves have never fought any vampires since their ancestors last battle, they have so much to learn. And your sister’s done a pretty good of keeping you busy as well.”

You were quiet before sitting up in his arms. He was so beautiful under the lamp light. If you blocked out all your other racing thoughts, you could imagine the two of you somewhere else under different circumstances. Maybe you’d be married by now—after all, high school wasn’t an option right now anyway.

If he were human, he’d be just coming home from work—and you’d be in the kitchen cooking dinner. He’d come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, whispering all the naughty things he wanted to do to you. . .

“That was a swift change in your emotions,” he said, eyebrows raised. Now that you were a witch, Ava taught you how to turn off the different powers of the vampires around you. But you liked having Jasper being able to read you, it kept a sense of honesty between the two of you. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

You shook your head. “No, I’m getting off track. I wanted to talk to you about something different. . .about the past.”

He tensed, sighing. This conversation was inevitable anyway. You both knew that.

“Ask anything you want.”

You paused. “What was your life before you became a vampire?”

“I. . .there’s a lot I can’t remember. But from what I do remember, it wasn’t much. I had a little brother named August and a Ma and Pa. Pa was just a poor farmer, and we didn’t have much of anything. And Ma came from a pretty well-off family, but they never accepted Pa, so they moved away from her family’s house, penniless and in love.

They had me about a year later. By the time I could walk, I was out on the farm helping with the chores. We had a little barn with chickens, and we had a mule—not a mare—named Buttercup that pulled all the carts. And the bulls in the field were not our own. We tended them for a wealthy planter several miles away.

August was born about three years after I was, and by the time the recruits came to our house for the war, he was only fourteen. Times were hard and I knew my parents could barely afford to keep food on the table. I left home and lied about my age to get into the army, and I left all my savings so I’d never have to look back.

I quickly moved up the ranks—Carlisle suspects it's the trait that carried into my vampiric life. When I was nineteen, I was finally promoted to Majorial status, and I was sent to Alabama where I had to collect men who were drafted.

That’s where I met Preston. He was smart, quick on his feet. It wasn’t long before I made him my Captain. I had no idea about you, for he was quite private about his personal life. We were friends, I trusted him with my life. But that’s when we met Maria.

We were on a mission escorting refugee women and children from Galveston. We saw Maria, Nettie, and Lucy all walking by themselves, dressed in the finest clothes. They were some of the most beautiful women we’d ever seen, and we stopped to give them our aid.

Working for Maria was pure hell. We trained her newborns, and I had the job of disposing of them. We fought other covens for territory, and all for what—a few days of dominance? After a while, she started a rift between me and Preston. He fell in love with Lucy and wanted to establish his own coven elsewhere. They wanted to overthrow Maria and all of us, but I sensed their aggression.

We planned a surprise attack and destroyed all of them. Preston got away, I couldn’t bear to see my long-time friend die. Eventually, I left Maria and went to live with my friends Peter and Charlotte. But I met my sister Alice in a diner, and we left together to join the Cullens.”

It was so much to process. Jasper had lived nearly two centuries before you, and lived a long, full life.

“Were you in love with her?” you whispered.

He lowered his eyes. “I thought I was. I thought she loved me, but she didn’t. I’d just convinced myself otherwise.”

He lifted your chin to meet his gaze. “But the only woman I love right now and will forever love is you.”

Your lips touched and you wrapped your arms around his neck. Whenever you kissed, you never wanted to separate. His tongue pushed into your mouth, and the taste of him drove heat straight to your core.

“I know you want me,” he growled onto your lips, “but there are several feeding vampires nearby. I can’t stand when any human men are around you, much less witches and wolves and vampires. Besides, this is not how I imagined our first time to be.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” you breathed. “I want everyone to see that I’m yours.”

Jasper smirked. “As tempting as that sounds, I believe a real lady deserves to be pampered and pleasured just like a queen. I want to take you to some beautiful island so the sun can shine on your pretty skin. I want to make you my wife before I. . .take you in that way.”

You blushed into his chest, hiding your face in the fabric of his shirt. Not even a few moments later, you heard the front door bust open.

Jasper groaned. “The family’s here.”

Emmett suddenly appeared in the doorway, a stupid grin on his face. “Aren’t you guys so romantic? Jasper’s gonna take to a farm so y’all can get married surrounded by the ducks and chickens.”

“The sad part is, that isn’t very far from what he was thinking,” Edward cried. “God, I hate being in the house with a bunch of immortal, horny teenagers.”

When they were back downstairs, you turned back to your boyfriend.

“So. . .what are you going to do when Preston and Maria arrive? Will you try to talk them down, come to some kind of agreement?”

He stared off towards the mass of dark trees visible through the window. 

“I don’t want to do it, I don’t want to kill anyone. But if he comes between us, I won’t hesitate to do just that.”

wHoOoOoO cHiLe, ThE hEaT. Only three more chapters folks.

Part Four    Part Five   Part Seven

[chrysalispen]

Prompt #29 - Paternal

set the night before last year’s fill #27, “palaver.”

AO3 Link HERE

=========================

Eighty-nine. Ninety.

The bristles dragged through her hair in a soothing rhythm, marking a routine she'd once kept daily and all but forgotten.

She'd been lulled into a half-dozing state by the sound of the wind as it whistled around the eaves of the manor - it was very cold but there was no snow or ice for once - and every northerly burst made her feel as though she'd stepped back in time a good ten years.

A knot from one of the logs popped in the hearth-fire. She started and exhaled, then raised the brush again.

Ninety-one. Ninety-two.

There were differences, of course. No rattle from a nearby ceruleum space heater, and no worry that her aunt might come knocking for one of her talks. But she was no longer that girl of eighteen summers and this was not the borrowed guest-chamber her aunt and uncle had assigned her in the family compound in Garlemald. This was Ishgard and over a decade had passed since she had been that girl. If anyone in her family spoke her name now it was to curse it for the shame her actions had undoubtedly brought upon them.

But she had no regrets. Things had happened that no reasonable person could have foreseen, and she had done the best she could under the circumstances.

Ninety-three.

When one thought of it in that light, Aurelia supposed she hadn't done so poorly. Granted, hers was something of an extraordinary case, but even Warriors of Light weren't invincible and before all of this had started, she had just been a normal woman no different from any other on the star. If she had known what she-

A rap on the heavy door.

"Mistress Aurelia? Are you awake?"

She set her brush down. "I am," she said. "What do you need, Saulette?"

"The Co-- er, Lord Edmont's asked for you."

"Give me one moment." Aurelia reached for her soft house coat and stepped into her slippers, then made her way to the door. It opened with a creak and the girl on the other side looked distressed to see that she was still fumbling with the belt at her waist.

"Oh, miss, you should have said-"

"It's fine," she said, smiling. "I hardly need assistance to put on a robe, and Lord Edmont will likely have been winding down himself. Where is he?"

"The parlor, miss."

She padded down the hallway and up the stairs at Saulette's heels. The young maid opened the door and bowed, stepping aside to allow Aurelia entry. Edmont de Fortemps sat in his customary chair, warming himself at the hearth and dressed in bedclothes of his own, careworn features drawn and pensive, silver-streaked dark hair perhaps a touch less neat than he might have allowed during daytime hours. It was a rare look at a man who was as controlled and dignified as her own father had been.

"Mistress Aurelia, my lord."

"Thank you, Saulette. Pray excuse us. I would like to speak with her alone."

The girl bowed. "Of course, my lord."

The door clicked softly shut at her back. Lord Edmont was smiling at her in a way her own father had never done, and gesturing at the chair nearest him.

"Well, come in, my dear," he said. "It's too cold to stand in the stairwell, you'll catch a cold from that draft." She smiled in return, drawing closer to the fire and curling up in the plush upholstered chair. "Are you nervous?"

"About tomorrow? A bit, but in that public speaking sort of way, you know."

"I do know, as it happens! Between you and me: that is the one bit about being the official head of the House that I have not missed." He reached for a porcelain teapot sitting on a tray at the nearby end table. "All the heres and wherefores and endless worry about my public image and how it might or might not reflect poorly upon the family as a whole."

"Indeed."

"I wish Artoirel joy of it. He's been chomping at the bit but I suspect reality will set in soon enough."

"I think he'll do well," Aurelia said, watching him pour the cup.

"He will. I love the boy, you know. Very much his mother's child. A bit stuffy at times, but he's a good man with a good head on his shoulders, and he's not mired in Church politics the way some of his peers are. He'll do the Fortemps name justice, I think." Edmont's dark eyes shone with cheer as he lifted the filled teacup and offered it to her. "...You had a great deal of influence there, you know."

"You give me far too much credit that I cannot claim, Lord Edmont. Artoirel is his own man."

"So he is. But you've always led by example, and you taught him some valuable lessons I think he might not otherwise have learned. Cream and sugar?"

"Just a bit of cream. And one lump." She paused, cup halfway to her lips. "...You really don't miss it at all?"

"There are some habits I miss. But it's rather like losing a tooth, you know. Strange at first but then everything falls into place over time and you barely notice that part of the routine was ever missing at all. No," he said, watching her sip, "I think it will be no great effort to make the adjustment. Being a private citizen does have its perks. And I'm still the family patriarch. That hasn't changed."

"No," Aurelia smiled over the rim of the cup. "No, it hasn't."

"Which brings me to the reason why I had Saulette bring you to me."

"What? Oh dear. That sounds rather serious," she said, trying to keep her tone lighthearted as she set the cup aside. "Tataru didn't ring you in the middle of the night for some emergency or other, did she?"

"Fury forbid!" he guffawed. "No, nothing like that. I have something I want to show you, but first I must beg your forgiveness."

"What? Why?" Aurelia was honestly curious. He set his cup aside and reached for a small, varnished spruce box sitting upon his ottoman, grunting softly with the effort. "Why would you need to apologize to me for anything?"

Edmont paused, one hand caressing the grain of the wood. That pensive expression had returned to his face, the one she had caught just before Saulette had announced her presence.

"I've little idea what to do for something like this. I only ever had sons, you see," he said. "I have loved all three of them. Now I don't delude myself into thinking I have been a perfect father, or even a particularly good one, but I like to think I have done well enough by them. ...Two of them, at least. At any rate, I'm told that in Garlemald, the tradition is for the bride to take with her into the ceremony something old, something new-"

"-something borrowed, and something blue," Aurelia finished. "Yes, it's an old wedding custom the Empire never saw fit to dismantle. Just a sort of mnemonic, for good luck. But I would hardly say it's a requirement."

"Be that as it may," he said, his fingers working the catch on the box open, "I would very much like you to wear these tomorrow."

Within the box lay a delicate lace-trimmed handkerchief of sky-blue linen, faded and discolored in places with age, folded into a neat triangle and lying atop what appeared to be a bundle of old letters. Edmont unfolded the corners with as much care as if the cloth was some priceless artifact, and within lay a small, simple pendant, an aquamarine cut into the shape of a teardrop. Firelight reflected upon the individual facets until the jewel sparkled.

"It's stunning and I'm honored that you would trust me with it. Did these pieces belong to the late countess?"

His smile trembled. "No," Edmont said. "They belonged to Haurchefant's mother."

"Oh..."

"My wife would have destroyed all of it, so I concealed this box within my personal effects. I intended to give all of this to him when he married, but-"

Aurelia bowed her head, staring into her cup.

"It bears repeating," his tone was gentle, "that I do not blame you for his death. I have never blamed you."

"But-"

"I grieve him, as does any parent who has had to bury their child, but I have never blamed you. I would give anything to have him back. Yet I cannot deny my pride in having raised a son who would be selfless enough to-" He swallowed, the bob in his throat swift and almost violent in its movement. "...Well, we'll never get through this if I start crying. Take it."

He passed her the box. She stared down at the pendant.

"Lord Edmont, I-"

"No titles necessary, my dear. I think at this point we've moved well beyond formality." He cleared his throat and glanced into the fire. "Well, I'm certain your own parents would be very proud of you."

Oh hells. Her throat felt hot and tight and her vision blurred.

"I very much doubt that," she said, her voice even but only just. "Oh, I doubt that."

"Why so?"

Aurelia's fingers clutched the edges of the box until they dug into her palms.

"...I shouldn't burden you with this-"

"By all means, my dear. Go on."

"It's... my background is much like Haurchefant's, in truth." She sighed. "My mother was a musician and an actress. She had top billing in one of His Radiance's personal favorite troupes, in fact. She enjoyed a good deal of renown when she still toured the imperial playhouses. But fame or no, she came from common stock and my uncle wouldn't have the match. Father broke a betrothal and defied his family to marry her. He even left the capitol at their request."

Edmont had leaned against the armrest of his chair to listen, his expression patient and focused. She glanced into the mirror over the mantelpiece and saw her face, as ever, staring back. Her father's broad nose and high cheekbones and golden hair, her mother's eyes. No matter where she went, she could look in a mirror and always see her mother's eyes. Usually, it was a comfort, in its own way. Tonight-

She chewed on her lower lip.

"They didn't know about her weak heart until I came along. It took so much out of her, and she never recovered from my birth. To say that my father was unable to deal with the loss would be putting things kindly."

"I can well imagine."

"There were so many times over the years I would see him looking at me and the expression he had on his face when he looked away, it- ...I used to think that he hated me. Knowing what I know now, I can see his side of things better than I ever wanted to. He lost himself in his own despair and had no time for anything else. But I think that if he had been given a choice, he would have taken my mother without a shadow of a doubt. I'm certain I'm not the only child to have ever been in this situation, neither the first nor the last. But his greatest sin, his greatest failure as a father, was letting me know it."

Something hot trickled down her cheek but she forced herself to keep talking.

"He wasn't a father to me. How could he possibly have been a good father? The moment she left us he gave up on everything."

Edmont said nothing, and she could see nothing of his face through her tears. But she heard the sound of the chair scraping as he stood, and the tap of his cane upon the floor. A warm hand descended upon her shoulder and squeezed. Gently he plucked the box from her hands, set it on the table, and pulled her to her feet.

"Any parent should be proud to have raised a child like you," he said, "and I doubt your mother would have held any of your choices against you. You are an exceptional woman - not just by your deeds, but by your heart - and even if she had known beforehand what would happen to her I suspect that much like Haurchefant, she would not have changed a thing about her decision. Sometimes our sorrows are so great in scale and so close together we think the world will never be anything else. But there is joy, great joy, in living." He tucked a stray sheaf of her hair behind her ear. "And there is joy in the hope you bring to others and in your presence in their lives. Let that be her enduring gift to you- as you are to us."

Smiling, albeit with a great sadness in his eyes, he opened his free arm and let her come to him.

"Had I ever been fortunate enough to raise a daughter," he said, "I like to think she would have been a great deal like you. If you can ever bring yourself to say it, it would greatly honor this old man to be your father in truth as well as bureaucracy."

Wrapped in his embrace, she smelled cloves, coffee, aged paper, and the earthy sweetness of pipe tobacco. She inhaled on a choked sob and nodded, unable to speak. Tomorrow would be for joy and joy alone. Tonight, she wept for the father she had lost years before he had left her, and for the gift of another.

And before the warmth of the great hearth, basking in the warmth of the parental love she had always wished to know for herself, she let the last ancient tatters of her grief burn away to cinders.

[thundersolstice]

I was inspired to ask this after stumbling upon how detailed your fan metas are and all the thought put in them. I was curious if you ever thought about what role Ratar-O might have played in Season 2? Ratar-O ended up becoming one of my favorite villains due to him acting like a dark reflection to Lion-O.

This has been sitting on my drafts for ages because I accidentally lost a bunch of what I wrote (damn app) and ragequit. But in the interest of answering the ask before the year ends, here's what I got. Sorry it's so late, anon!

Always happy to ramble. I really like Ratar-O, too, especially as a foil for Lion-O. I have thought about Ratar-O’s role in future seasons a bit, but not at length, and nothing with strong support from canon material... That said,

ThunderMeta: On Ratar-O and the Rats

First, a quick summary of what facts I’ve gleaned from canon re Ratar-O and the rats, and a few assumptions I’m basing my headcanons on:

Ratar-O was the absolute ruler of the rats, but I'm unclear what his title is. I’m also unsure if he inherited his rule (as the heir to a ruling bloodline traced, at a minimum, back to Ratilla), or if he seized his rule on his own power. It’s probably splitting hairs, but I like knowing these things.

Perhaps worth observing: when Ratar-O states Ratilla is his ancestor, he could have meant it in a “the ancient rats are our ancestors” way, not necessarily a “Ratilla is my great-great-greatx50-grandfather” way. The latter has a stronger basis in canon because Ratar-O specifically states: “…My ancestor, Ratilla…” but, you know. Just putting that out there.

It’s unclear if Ratilla was already leading the rats or if he came to power after obtaining the Sword of Plun-Darr. I’m operating from the tentative assumption that if Ratilla was not “born a king,” then he established his dynasty with Mumm-Ra’s Sword. 

My tentative assumptions for Ratar-O are either: (a) Ratar-O is a direct descendant of Ratilla; and therefore Ratar-O inherited his rule, or (b) Ratar-O seized power and set himself up as the rats’ ruler by his own hand. I regret that I had to think so hard about that.

I’d like to see Ratar-O come back for a Round Two with Lion-O in either the second or later seasons, either as a lackey a la Slithe & co., or entirely independent of Mumm-Ra. I’d like to see Ratar-O moving against Lion-O on his own (they’re fun to watch together), but I think it’d be more likely for Ratar-O to approach the Ever-Living to ask for aid in revenging himself on Lion-O. I don’t recall that Ratar-O had a huge role in the classic series the way Slithe and Mumm-Ra’s other minions did, but I could see Ratar-O perhaps forming an alliance with Mumm-Ra rather than directly handing himself and his people over to Mumm-Ra’s absolute rule (as far as Rataro-O knows, anyway. lol)

Another thought I had is that Ratar-O might not return in the second season (although I do expect the rats to join the final battle against Mumm-Ra in the finale), but could appear as a villain in his own right in the third or later seasons, maybe in a kind of “I’ve been plotting my revenge on Lion-O all these years now feel my wrath!” way. That scenario could go all kinds of directions, and it’d make a nice early arc to keep the thundercats busy while Mumm-Ra is secretly recovering/freeing himself from the Ancient Spirits/&c.

Backing up a bit, I’m particularly interested in what Ratar-O’s people do in the wake of his defeat/the destruction of his mine: if the rats were abandoned by their ruler when he “fled back underground,” that may’ve created a power vacuum in the rats’ government, which would open the door to all the change and likely chaos that follows a deposed despot; or if Ratar-O only fled from Lion-O, but maintained his grip on his people, then there’s still the original question of the civil unrest resultant of tyranny, which could only be made worse by Ratar-O’s defeat at Lion-O’s hands, as well as general observations and talk about how Lion-O, an enemy king, treats the rats better than Ratar-O ever has (“Your people are just slaves on the other side of the whip!”)…

The rats clearly have a long, bitter history with the cats (along with just about every species on Third Earth lmao), so it’d be nice to see how Lion-O unites them under his flag (or his Code, I suppose), particularly since they have a very recent painful history in the cats’ enslavement and subsequent liberation. I wouldn't expect Lion-O to struggle overmuch to convince them to fight with him, but I would really, really like to see all the conflict that comes from the rats rubbing shoulders with their recently freed slaves, particularly through individuals' POVs. Such as, a cat (with their own story) recognizing a rat (with their own story) who beat him/her or killed a loved one or the like, and the many different ways similar scenarios play out across all these reunions. I'd expect to see healing if not forgiveness, eventually, but I wouldn't mind seeing any of the hundreds of other ways different dynamics end, either. And Lion-O getting caught up in at least one of these personal conflicts, and Lion-O talking to rats and cats personally and convincing then to move on, and just Lion-O being a fantastic leader to all these people with so much pain between them and hnnng I need it.

Now to conclude with a totally relevant gif.

[theladyfromplanetx]

Dear Lawrence Kasdan So, You Say You Love Han Solo

Dear Lawrence,

I hear there’s a bit of a kerfuffle going on about the Han Solo movie you’re EPing and have co-written with your son. I wish I could tell you I was sorry to hear that, but in all honesty I’ve been hoping for the last few years that someone would kill this project with fire and then nuke it from space for good measure. Sure, most of the reason that large chunks of the nerd world have responded to the very idea of this film is that a lots of people, including me, think it’s a fool’s errand for any actor other than Harrison Ford to strap on Han Solo’s DL-44 blaster. But ever since the release of The Force Awakens, I’ve had a second reason for saying:

to this venture.

I kind of hate to say it, Lawrence, but it’s not me: It’s you.

You see, the The Force Awakens did something to me that even The Star Wars Holiday Special, painfully delivered prequel lines about sand, and the very existence of Jar Jar Binks couldn’t do: The Force Awakens made me regret that Star Wars is still a thing.

It made me regret that children were being introduced to something that used to be innocent and good-hearted by a film that shows that the end game of youthful heroism is failure and running away (and that Han should have stuck to his initial demand of $10,000 all in advance in A New Hope).

It made me angry that nobody among the-powers-that-be looked at it, took a deep breath and said “wait a minute. In shadow-rebooting A New Hope, do we really need to make two of the biggest characters in film history pathetic runaway losers and the other a heartless automaton who would kill her son on (not a)Death Star unless hapless sucker Han showed up to do her bidding and die trying to bring him home…even though that request made not a lick of sense given that the Force-sensitive parent who could actually have had an influence was the bidding mother would have just blown Kylo clear out of the sky had Han not shown up to (1) solve her problem by getting yet another (not a)Death Star shield down and (2) die?“

It made me rue how far we’ve fallen as a critical thinkers when we can be hoodwinked so easily that we spend a couple of billion at the movie theatre on a film that’s dressed up to look and feel like Star Wars, but is utterly life- and hope-denying at its core and presents a kind of nihilism that we’d probably reject as an audience if the words STAR WARS weren’t plastered on it.

Oh, also, the story doesn’t really make any sense.

As you can see, eighteen months later, I can still get a bit aggrieved by all this. However, to quote one of the most egregiously jaw-dropping placeholder lines in The Force Awakens, that is “a story for another day.” (Sorry, Lawrence and JJ, but in a past life, which I call the late 1990s, I went to film school and put in my time in the screenwriting trenches as well. You know and I know that line right there would have gotten you laughed out of an on-line screenwriting class at an unaccredited diploma mill.)

The story for today is that I’m not really keen on the idea of you touching the character of Han Solo again, both because of TFA and because of whatever happened to upend the Solo standalone’s directors. The weight of the evidence coming from the usual suspects (aka unnamed sources) is that the disagreements over the tone of the film and the character of Solo became so vast that somebody had to go. Lord/Miller, as I’ve read in the millions of lines of digital type about this and to which I’m now adding, saw the film and the character as funny, while you insisted that Solo was not funny, but was selfish and sarcastic. Other descriptors of Solo that have been thrown around and attributed to you re: Solo are “narcissistic,” “uncaring,” “out for himself,” and “mean.”

Oh, and you’ve also been quoted as saying you “love Han Solo.”

And therein lies the problem.

Now no one wants a Han Solo movie…hm. I could just stop there for a lot of the fandom, but I’ll proceed.

No one wants a Han Solo movie in which Solo keeps trying to get Chewie to pull his finger, but I’d like to propose, Larry, that perhaps Lord/Miller weren’t the only problem here, because it seems that you actually don’t love the same character that the audience loved in the Original Trilogy. You love the darker version of the character that was tossed around in story conferences and in early drafts and you love the darker story that Lucas toyed with, but decided against using (thank the Makers) in Return of the Jedi. You love the Han Solo that Lucas and Leigh Brackett introduced as the “before” Han at the beginning of A New Hope, but not the “after” he became by the end of that film and the “after-after” he became by the end of ROTJ. Now that Lucas and his lighter view of the Star Wars universe are no longer on the scene, it feels like you’re trying to retcon Han Solo to win a battle you fought and lost long ago and in the process create a smuggler whose heart isn’t actually made of gold anymore.

I know that’s not a very nice thing for me to say, but I can’t help but say it, given how you and JJ had your way with the character in TFA, because he certainly wasn’t the character we left at the end of ROTJ. Nor, I should note, is he the character that we met in Bloodline, the Disney/Lucasfilm novel released after TFA and set five years before it, in which Han and Leia are still happily married and Han is pretty much an identifiable older version of ROTJ Han. TFA Han was an awkward mash-up of a script portraying an aged version of the character we met at the beginning of A New Hope and an actor playing hard against the script to show us a broken man wandering the galaxy and trying to make it work.

That impetus — to remake a beloved hero in a less heroic image — is kind of ugly in any context, despite all the folks who will insist “BUT IT’S REAL” as if real had anything to do with a franchise that for forty years has appealed to the little, innocent part of us that still wants to believe in Santa. It’s particularly a problem when applied to the character of Solo and the role that character plays for Star Wars.

Solo’s not the kid who, twenty minutes into the Original Trilogy, decides he wants to be a Jedi and spends the next five hours and forty minutes of film becoming just that. He’s not the character with royal roots who has been fighting for the good guys since before the first film started and continues to do so until the trilogies end.

He’s the character who has to find his better angels, who has to change in order to become the hero/man/boyfriend/partner/friend he decides he wants to be. He’s a guy who has to overcome his natural instincts for self-preservation. He needs to learn to say “I’m sorry.” He’s snarky, FUNNY, and sometimes grudgingly follows the conscience he’d rather not have in order to do the right thing. He’s not always really convinced about the whole “religion” thing, he’s had some rough times, he’s done some rotten things, and he likes money.

It’s no big mystery why Solo is a fan favorite. It’s Harrison Ford, yes, but its also because Solo is as much like all of us as someone can be in a universe with hyperdrives, lightsabers, and Wookiees. He gives the Star Wars universe some identifiable grounding — and HUMOR. (If you don’t believe me, see: prequels.)

And by the end of Return of the Jedi, Solo became the person we’d all like to believe we are or can be— the one whose better angels have won out and given him a real shot at a happily ever after.

Oh, right, that didn’t happen. Well, it did for 30 plus years, and then it didn’t. Thanks, Larry. Always good to remind myself of Han Solo’s utterly pointless death scene in TFA, a death that many of us steeled ourselves against because we were pretty sure it was coming. It was gutting, though, not because it happened, but because it came at the top of act three of a film that had already stripped the character of his OT arc and also because the death was utterly devoid of heroic meaning or salvific result, given that all it did in the context of the film was turn Darth Emo into Darth Lyle Menendez and make Leia sit down and look somewhat upset.

But it can’t just be a pointlessly sad death of a character who, for all the talking up JJ did about cool rogue Han Solo, wasn’t played that way and didn’t come off that way, right? We all know that when you take down an iconic character like that, you do it with the endgame all planned out. You know exactly how that death — of a parent who rouses himself from his brokenness and ennui to risk his life for son he believes is likely already beyond his reach because the woman he loves has asked him to — will reverberate across the sequel trilogy and, ultimately, we’ll see that Solo’s final act WAS heroic. In fact, it was Kenobi-like. Aslan-like. Christ-like. You gave Solo the ultimate 180-degree arc, didn’t you? He died to save his kid, he died so everybody else could live, and you know it, right, Larry? You’ve got this whole thing mapped out, right, bud? I mean, c’mon, you love Han Solo, so you wouldn’t strip the character of his growth, throw him down an endless shaft (holy cow, dude, you literally shafted him!), and walk away to write another movie about him NOT being a hero, would you?

Oh.

Maybe you did.

So…you’re telling me that it’s possible Han’s final act was utterly futile, solely a device to tell us Darth Emo is really, really evil ? I think we already knew that, given the platypus mask, Vader lust, and the blowing up of a solar system. But, hey, thanks for getting people in our already messed-up world to argue that patricide can be justified; what’s been missing from our pop culture crap stew for the last decade is Star Wars fans arguing that the vastly immoral may be moral because they identify with the patricidal emo character whom they want to end up with the Mary Sue whose mind he attacked in the TFA version of a rape scene. I’ll never know how you avoided feminist outrage there, but count your lucky stars that feminists were so happy to have a female (not)Luke Skywalker in Star Wars that they overlooked that.

So now you move onto the Han Solo film, wherein, after meeting loser, regressed, lost, runaway and dead Han in TFA, we’re going to meet selfish, sarcastic, mean, narcissistic, and out for himself but not funny Han.

Can’t wait. By which I mean I could have happily waited forever, because I wasn’t waiting. I WASN’T WAITING, LARRY.

I get it, though. I’ve seen most of your work. You’re a serious filmmaker — you went from Larry to Lawrence. The Big Chill, Grand Canyon, Accidental Tourist, Mumford. I’ve seen ’em all. God help me, I even saw Dreamcatcher…but that’s a story for another day. What I know from those films is that when you’re calling the shots, nothing is black and white. Everything is a shade of gray.

What I also know is that those films are not made for the part of us that still wants to believe in Santa and that gray is not a good color for Star Wars. Star Wars became the cultural touchstone it is precisely because it jumped into a very gray period in our history, with gas lines and Soviets and malaise, with a black-and-white, good versus evil morality that made everyone just a little bit happier when they left the theatre. You didn’t question if the heroes were heroes or the villains were villains. In its own goofball way, Star Wars — with its complete faith in the power of hope — was countercultural.

Now? The new Star Wars took one look around at our current culture and instead of being countercultural, happily jumped right into the morass and is swimming around in the sludge of relativism. Heroes become failures and run away. Evil characters are given some sort of justification for being evil. Rebels fighting against the Empire are portrayed as assassins instead of people fighting a monstrous evil. The Resistance is some kind of non-governmental paramilitary group. Luke Skywalker thinks the Jedi must end. Oh, and the last two films you’ve written focus on a less noble version of the character you claim to love.

Star Wars is starting to look like a reflection of the worst of us as adults and as a society, instead of a goofy, lovable, out-of-this-galaxy inspiration to kids (and the kid in everyone) to be the best version of themselves.

Hey, I’m sure everyone at Lucasfilm is just fine with this, because these films, despite their shaky worldview, are also printing money, but, Larry, consider that maybe Wonder Woman has proven that there’s still a huge audience for naivete, goodness, and hope. Since you now have Ron Howard, who’s specialized in empathetic leads even in complex films over the years, can you maybe jettison the gray and try to create just one more time not the Han Solo that you love, but the Han Solo that is a combination of you, George Lucas, Irvin Kershner, Harrison Ford, and Leigh Brackett?

That’s the Han — the funny, snarky, constantly-irked one who talked a good game about being out for himself but somehow never was when the chips were down — that the audience has loved for forty years, because, in the end, CS Lewis was as right about this as he was about most things:

Oh, and if you could de-age Harrison Ford so he could play the role, that’d be great too…kthxbai.

Best,

Annie

Written in 2017 by Anne Michaela.

[sandalaris]

For the writer asks: 5, 10, 17, 22, 23, 30, 45, & 54!! :D

Finally getting around to answering these XD

5. Books or authors that influenced your style the most.

I read so much I feel like I can’t narrow it down. My favorite author is Ilona Andrews but they write almost exclusively in first person and have their fair share of action in their novels that I don’t think they’re that much of an influence on me. I’m trying to think of who I read that did the whole “people usually feel a mix of emotions over just one” thing that I know I’ve adopted, but I can’t think of who it is. (I can think of an author, who I do love the books of, who did the opposite and I found myself always confused about a character was supposed to be feeling/thinking and they probably influenced me to not do that, but I do like their books and that seems too much like I’m trying to be negative about them.)

10. Pick a writer to co-write a book with and tell us what you’d write about.

If I got to pick anyone, it’d be Marissa Meyer who wrote the Lunar Chronicles. It would be for one novel/novella, because I feel like the Lunar Chronicles has one more sort of side story in it and would want so badly for it to fit what the author has already written. If you haven’t read the series, it’s basically a retelling of various fairy tales just set in the future, like Cinderella has a metal prosthetic foot that keeps falling off and Rapunzel is a hacker living in a satellite orbiting earth. Everything is set up to perfectly fit a Beauty and the Beast side-story. Genetically altered super soldiers who are big and hairy and given animal aggression and had all their teeth surgically replaced with fangs for failing to pass a test as a child? Check! Now all we need is to write a story about the bookish daughter of a geneticist who gets blackmailed into staying with the “beast” and slowly learns that there’s a man inside of the monster and ends up figuring out how to reverse some of the alterations (because we already got the “I love him just as he is, fangs and all” thing from Scarlet and Wolf so we can have a little “curse breaking” this time around.) It can be set post-series, when some of the wolf-soldiers ran off and disappeared into various countries.

I once co-write a novel with my best friend about an evil warlock who fell in insta-love with a ditzy elf and spent the rest of the novel trying to avoid her so he could dodge his fate of retiring from villainy like his father and grandfather before him. He was determined to be the one villain in his family who actually went through with his evil master plan, dammit! It was a comedy, and kind of a spoof since we were at that age where romance novels were the thing to make fun of, but it still ended with him deciding he could do evil masterminding later and running off with the elf. What can I say, we were like twelve.

17. On average, how much writing do you get done in a day?

Eek, the problem with averages is that any sort of outlier knocks everything else off, and I have a lot of outliers, lol. I go through writing spurts, sitting down and all but knocking out an entire chapter/one-shot in one sitting followed by days where I won’t even open a word document. And then there’s sort of my inbetween times where I’m usually typing away on something, but it’s more editing than actual writing, so maybe 100 or so new words might get written, but what I’ve previously written looks better by the end, lol. This has been the norm especially lately with school and work taking up the majority of my time. And then it hits me and I just need to let the story flow out of me? Between 2k-5k a sit down session.

22. How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied and a project is ultimately done for you?

I don’t really do true drafts. I write, I edit, I post, and then I suddenly see all my typos. On the rare occasion editing doesn’t fix the issue, I might cut the scene into chunks and sort of look for the line(s) that don’t fit and start branching off from there (like maybe someone’s acting out of character *glares at current chapter* and I just needed to look at it in smaller incriments to see where they started to veer off). Only once have I ever just completely reworked the extremely extremely rough draft I had written, but that was an original work I did for Nano and so was more concern with getting words on a page than editing as I go.

I suppose editing could count as a second draft, so two? Maybe three? What is considered One Editing? If I leave off and come back, is it an all new edit/draft, or am I picking up where I left off?

23. Single or multi POV, and why?

Nine times out of ten I seem to veer towards single, although I’ve had some fun with multiple POVs before.

Not really sure why. Maybe I just find it easier to burrow into one person’s headspace and go from there? I know there are times when I want to jump to another character for one specific scene, but I always feel like I’m already committed to telling things from the one character’s POV. Or maybe I just like the limited narrator thing.

30. Favorite line you’ve ever written.

Err.. I don���t know that I have one. How about a line I rather like? This is from a kind of Amaru/Brasa fic (kinda sorta. He’s got that whole mix of love and hate and resentment and worship thing going on, and she has her own twisted attachment to him) set in those six months between seasons. These lines are from a moment where Kate surfaces and Brasa fantasizes about taking out some of his resentment of Amaru on Kate. (He never actually physically harms her, Amaru would never allow someone to mark her vessel simply because its hers, but he likes to imagine.)

He thinks about wide green eyes looking up at him with fear, filling with tears as she whimpers out a “Please.” Imagines pressing a hand to her shoulder, pressing down down down until she’s kneeling before him, trembling as he cups her jaw, forcing her head back. He wants to press his thumb to the plump swell of her bottom lip, dig his nail in until the blood, her soul, comes to the surface. Filling the flesh with color until it spill across her chin in a vibrant slash.

and to give you an idea of how Kate is handling Brasa’s attempts to take his issues out on her...

He can see the muscle at the hinge of her jaw tighten, hear the harsh edge of every exhale, as she turns to look up at him mere inches away.  

“My name,” she clips, “is Kate.” She bites off the last, harsh sound, almost snapping her teeth at him.

45. Worst piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.

I’m trying to think of actual feedback and not just like angry comments/reviews from people who didn’t like my fics (which tbh I haven’t gotten that much of because people aren’t generally that big of a dick to leave flames on fics these days.)

Someone tried to tell me that a character dropping the f-bomb was unnecessary and jarring and I should remove it from one of my fics. And hey, to each their own, but I personally felt it fit both the character (who cursed in canon) and the story and so kept it in. People certainly can write great literature without every putting down a single curse word, but there’s also great stories that wouldn’t be the same without a bit of foul language. What bugged me most about it was their insistence I should remove it.

Besides that the only other bad feedback I’ve gotten (besides obvious flames and people not liking the direction I’m going/have gone with a story), was someone who said that my clearly labeled unhealthy relationship fic was romanticizing abuse and they didn’t appreciate the one character manipulating the other character like that. They were actually fairly nice about it (if a bit of an anti about the whole thing), I just remember being a little bugged at the time because I had already tagged it as unhealthy/manipulative.

54. Any writing advice you want to share?

Don’t be afraid to experiment! And in that same vein, try out writing rules and discard them just as quickly if they aren’t for you, because there’s no set in stone way to doing things. Break all the rules if you want, the point is just to write. XD

Thanks!!