#flooring service in Allen

[floorsblvd]

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[bookshelf-dust]

promise to take care of my heart

carmy berzatto x fem!reader

gif by @emziess

word count: 1,830

warnings: nothing? a little swearing, but this is pure fluff and that’s all

synopsis: carmy wants to cuddle with you for the first time.

a/n: hi! new character, i know. but i’ve become rather attached to carm in the past few months and i had a cute idea for him and here we are. he’s bringing me so much comfort right now and now i’m gonna share that with you <333

————

“Why don’t you pick out a movie or somethin,’ bub?” 

“If I could find your damn remote, Carm, I would.”

He lets out a breath of a laugh, eyes on his hands where they sit deep in the dishwater below. Good luck, he thinks. 

You scan the coffee table, the rug below the shabby couch. It’s not like there’s any use checking the tv stand because it’s still a fucking table tray. You know he doesn’t even own the full set of four table trays? He’s just got the one? That knowledge keeps you up at night. Just like how he doesn’t have a ceiling fan pull and has to get tweezers to change the speed.

You find the remote nestled in a stack of freshly organized books. You helped Carmen assemble a very simple bookshelf so that his stash of cookbooks wouldn’t have to live on the floor anymore. 

Just getting to help him turn his apartment into something other than a place to sleep brought you a contagious giddiness. Carmen’s chest aches with how much he’s laughed since he met you. 

Look at all my muscles, Carm. I’m practically ready for my dick now, don’t you think? 

Where’d you even get these? He’d looked down at the little allen wrench in your hand and said I don’t know, they were just here one day. 

Now you have a bookshelf, Bear. What a grown up. 

Carmen wouldn’t let you help him with the dishes after he cooked you dinner. He’d just kissed your shoulder and said, “Let me take care of it, alright?” with that little raise of his brows and quirk of his lips telling you not to argue because you’d never win. 

And when Carmen tells you to let him take care of something, well…you listen. 

You haven’t been dating very long, but it’s been enough that you’ve both developed this rhythm, this way of moving around and with each other and you just…work. 

He doesn’t understand how you can dial his shyness, his hesitance, so quickly, how you can make him feel like a human again so easily. But you do. 

You settle against the back of the couch, flipping through the tv guide (because Carm has never subscribed to any streaming services) until you find something worth listening to. It’s already a few minutes in, but you’ve seen the movie enough times that it doesn’t really matter. 

The overhead light in the kitchen switches off and Carmen pads out to the living room, socked feet dragging on the hardwoods. Your biggest pet peeve is people who don’t pick up their feet, but somehow it’s more tolerable when it’s him. 

He sits down on the edge of the couch. Just sits. On the edge. That means he wants to say something. You give him the time to psych himself up. 

Carmy chews on his thumb nail and rubs his nose before he turns to you, placing his hand on the couch. His blue eyes burn into yours, and the intensity of his gaze, trained on you, makes you feel like the most important person in the world. 

“H-hey, um…can we—could we snuggle, maybe?” He flushes at the fact that he just used the world snuggle. Richie would have his ass so quick if he’d heard him say that. 

Your grin is brilliant. You’ve never cuddled properly with Carmen before. Maybe a head on a shoulder or a leg tossed across another, but never a real cuddle session. “Fuck yeah, we can, Carm.” You giggle and the sound softens that bubble of fear in his chest. 

He bites the inside of his cheek, letting out the barest laugh. 

“How did you want t-to lay, Bear?” You blink at him. “Were you just gonna—” 

He starts to nod. “I was just gonna lay on your chest, honestly.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, that works.”

“Y-yeah.”

You snort. “Lemme’ stretch out for you and then you can be a teddy bear.” 

“Seriously?”

“Yes.” Carmen shakes his head at you. He lets you pull that shit because he likes it. Secretly.

When you have a pillow under your neck and are laid out on your back, Carm slips beside you against the back of the couch and clumsily settles on top of you. He doesn’t want to crush you or anything, so he settles between your legs, only allowing the weight of his torso to envelop you. 

One arm wraps around your back, the other cradling your hip, his curls brushing your chin. He turns his head to face the tv and lets out a satisfied sigh. 

On instinct your hand threads through his tangled hair, scratching at his scalp gently and sorting through any piece that feels knotted. 

“What is this?” Carmy asks, nodding in the direction of the screen. 

“The Wedding Planner. It has Jlo and Matthew McConaughey in it.” 

“Chick flick?”

You hum in agreeance. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t hate it. Jlo’s character is like you but if the restaurant was a wedding planning business and you were, you know, a chick.”

He laughs lightly against your stomach and you can feel the puff of air over your shirt. 

The weight of Carmen’s body on top of yours is easily the most calming feeling you’ve ever experienced. You can’t get enough of him. 

“This okay?” you ask, scratching his scalp a little more for emphasis. This is a new way of showing affection. Uncharted territory. 

“Hm?” He looks up at you briefly, blue eyes fluttering closed. “Oh yeah, feels nice. I like it.”

You grin and continue to play with his hair. He’s right. It does feel nice. It is. 

The next few minutes go by without any conversation, just silence. But it’s so comfortable. Carmen’s tired gaze is on the tv. You can feel him breathing, feel the way he scratches over your back absently. You don’t know if he’s aware he does it, but he nuzzles his nose against the soft of your stomach every now and then like it’s keeping him safe. 

“You know I thought about being a wedding planner?”

Carmy pushes up onto his elbows, looking at you with the smallest smirk playing on his lips. “Really?”

You playfully bat at his shoulder and he moves to lay back down, but not before pressing a kiss to your sternum over your shirt. “Mhm. Still think about it sometimes.” You pause, but Carm doesn’t say anything yet because he knows you aren’t finished with that thought. 

“I guess I just thought it’d be nice to help put things like that together? The organization would make me feel…complete, I guess. And you know I don’t like to help people in such an extroverted way? I like to be behind the scenes.” You laugh, a little self-deprecatingly. “Does that make sense?”

Carmen squeezes your side. “‘Course it does. And then you could come home and tell me stories about all the family drama you eavesdrop on.”

You giggle, and Carmy loves that he can feel it where he lays on your chest. He can feel your joy, and that’s fucking cool. “That I could.”

He rubs your back in small, gentle circles. “And you know, I happen to have some friends who make pretty good food and would be happy to help if you ever needed.”

“Oh, do you? Well, that’s very helpful, Mr. Berzatto. You’ll have to give me their number.”

Carmy laughs into your chest. A pure, genuine laugh. It’s such a beautiful sound, and you truly think you’d have it tattooed all over your body if that was even remotely possible. His glee makes you laugh, and then you’re both snickering like you’re teenagers doing something that’ll get you in big trouble. 

You reach for his hand, the one that’s resting on your hip now, and he lets you lift it towards your face. He bites his cheek, fighting the smile that rises when you press your warm and chapstick covered lips to his knuckles. 

“You have such pretty hands, Carmy.”

He pinches your back. “I still don’t get why you’re so fascinated by them.”

“Because they’re pretty. And, look—” You hold yours up to his. “—they’re so much bigger than mine. And I like your tattoos, obviously. I like that I know how talented you are with your hands and how capable. I’m very lucky to hold such capable hands, Bear.”

“Capable, huh?” He gives you a look, one that makes you want to both tackle him and smack him on the arm. Instead you roll your eyes and he raises up to kiss you. 

“Capable of being the world’s biggest pain in the ass.”

Carmy laughs. It’s that little chuckle, light and airy and like he can’t believe what he’s hearing but he wants to hear more anyway. He flops back down on your chest, making you let out a rather loud oomph. 

You take Carmen’s hand in yours again, rubbing over the dry patches on his knuckles, the scabs on the insides of his fingers, the scar on his palm. His whole life is written in these hands. 

You start massaging the pads of his fingers without even thinking about it. No one’s ever been that gentle with him—definitely not with his hands—and a little part of him melts at the feeling. 

You kiss the tattoo on the back of his hand and just look at his skin. You’re determined to memorize each line and freckle and fucked up cuticle he’s got. 

“At least your nails don’t look like Richie’s, Carm.”

His chest moves with the giggle that travels throughout his body. 

“Trust me, they didn’t look like that when he was still with Tiff.”

You grin, your eyes falling back on the television. Maybe Carm would be open to setting it on the bookshelf? That table tray has put in a lot of work. It deserves a break. 

Carmen can see why you’re so fond of this movie. It’s one of those that doesn’t require much thought, that has humor and feels more human than most. He knows he shouldn’t think it, but you having said what you said before makes him wonder if you’ll plan your own wedding…with him. 

Shut the fuck up, he tells himself. But maybe we’ll get there. 

You catch him smiling when they fuck up the statue in the garden and pretend not to notice. You both keep quiet now, but Carm reaches up and puts your hand back on his head.

Your fingers thread through his curls again, scratching at his scalp gently. Your other hand does the same thing to his back. You know it’s going to lull him to sleep. 

When you say it, he’s already dozed off. But you are so happy that you get to make him feel safe. That he’s comfortable enough to sleep on you like this. Lucky is an understatement. 

“Thank you for letting me in, Bear. I don’t think my life has ever been this beautiful.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[scaredeverything]

Transitional Family Room - Game Room

[sunlightmurdock]

Operation Apollo | 3.0 | Jake Seresin x Reader

previous chapter | epilogue | masterlist

Synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Her long term detail is about to retire and needs replacing, only — she isn’t the easiest to work with. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

Warnings: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst, manipulation, sucky parents, grief and manipulation, lying, distressing themes throughout but especially towards the end of the chapter. Graphic violence, dangerous situations, inaccurate injuries, major character death revenge, wc: 3.8k

There’s no rush to open your eyes. The ache and throb, and painful dryness of your lips brings you no respite from the way things had been before you had fallen asleep. Blacked out. Whatever you want to call it— it hadn’t helped. 

Your nose wrinkles at something offensive. Sterile and sharp smelling. Wrinkling it comes with a crunch, and sharp pain. There’s a dry feeling in your nostrils where old blood still sits. 

The smell is chemical, antiseptic. It’s so strong smelling through all of that blood and pain that it forces your eyes open. That’s worse. That hurts more. Fluorescents above you. You’re left with no choice but to squeeze them shut again— and the sudden realization that you’re not where you were before, at all.

There’s no hard, painful metal chair holding your weight. The burden of being held now falls to something much softer, so soft that it feels like you’re sinking into it like sand. It doesn’t hurt much less. 

Your legs hurt, a prickling static feeling. Your ass hurts from however long you were sitting there like that. Your back hurts, a numb and stiff feeling. You attempt to turn your head and your neck reminds you suddenly not to overlook it— a gasp tears from your mouth and makes your lungs burn almost as much as your bruised throat.

Two voices say your name at once. A chair scrapes across the ground, two sets of shoes hit the floor. People are coming. The gasp, despite your burning throat’s protests, becomes a choked whimper. 

“Don’t— Don’t touch her,” Allen. You’re dreaming again, just like you had been when you heard Jake’s voice. “Maybe we should get the doctor.” 

You try once again. The bright, blinding white stuns your sore, unadjusted eyes. You squint through it, determined as ever. Allen’s weathered face steadies and becomes more clear. His mouth hangs open, watching your bruised face start to move with recognition.

“Stay still, sweetheart, don’t move.” He’s speaking to you. He lifts his hand and reaches. His fingers extend towards you and your skin comes alive, buzzing with electricity like you’re being shocked as you tear back from his extended palm.

He winces as you cough out a choked cry, doubling over in pain from the sudden movement. 

“Doctor Owens?— Doctor Owens!” Your mother. Her voice is further away, growing in urgency. She’s barely recovered herself. She shouldn’t have come.

The monitor beside your bed beeps wildly as your heart rate kicks into another spike, and footfall echoes in the hall as people rush for your room. So many shoes hitting the ground at once that you can’t place how many of them there could possibly be.

“Don’t.” It comes out choked and horse, but loud. “Don’t touch me. Allen. Don’t— I don’t want—“

“Calm down, it’s alright,” He tries, he really tries. The footfall grows closer and you thrash as Allen’s fingers graze the curve of your shoulder. You’re just hurting yourself more. “Stop. Try to stay still, alright? — You’re — Stop. Stop!”

There’s nothing peaceful about the way you’re sent back to sleep, thrashing and crying and screaming as your IV is adjusted and filled. With everything that you’ve been through, they had warned your loved ones that recovery was going to be far from linear.

Over the course of the next two days, you wake three more times and are put back to sleep in a similar fashion. With your stitches and recovering internal injuries, they need you to be still. For now, every time you have opened your eyes has been another fight that your body just isn’t ready to take.

The fourth time comes easier than the rest. Your broken nose has started to heal by now. Under the hospital gown, your ribs are black and blue. Your lungs have stopped making that rattling sound when you inhale deeply now. Still, everything hurts.

The fluorescent lights are off. The curtains are open, the television is on. You blink heavily, your chest aches as you breathe in. 

Allen looks up at the soft rattle of your first breath in. His brows furrowed slightly, green eyes widening as he watches your eyelids blink heavily. 

“Hey…” He whispers cautiously, like he’s afraid to spook you. Your gaze settles on him, the fuzziness of the picture dissipating with each heavy blink. His face is sullen, tired. “Hey, sweetheart. It’s just me. It’s just us, you’re okay.”

Just us. The idea is more comforting than anything you’ve heard in a long time. It’s not really just the two of you, but Allen keeps that to himself. You don’t need to know the amount of security posted around this building.

You want to answer him, but your throat is dry and hoarse when you try to speak. Allen sits forwards, grabbing the underside of the chair with his good hand and pulling it closer.

“It’s alright.” His voice voice croaks. It’s not alright, but you will be. He hopes you’ll understand, when it’s time for you to learn how it all went down. 

Stubble coats his jaw and his hair is longer than he usually ever lets it grow, salt and pepper all the way through. Your fingers twitch and your arm aches as you force it slowly upward, reaching for him. Allen grazes the tips of his fingers over yours. He slides his hand slowly into your palm, and watches your eyes fill with sudden tears.

“What… happened?” You whimper.

“I’ll tell you everything once you’re feeling a little better,” He whispers, thinking back to the strict orders from your mother not to upset you. He lowers his mouth just slightly and presses his lips to your knuckles, squeezing your hand tight. “You scared the shit out of me for a second, there.”

A burning sensation behind your eyes makes you wrinkle your nose, your bottom lip trembling as your chest flares with heat. There’s real fear in his eyes. He shouldn’t even be here, he’s supposed to be retired — there’s no money in this for him.

And yet, he’s the only person at your bedside.

He’s holding your hand, and holding your gaze firmly. Letting you think it’s all okay. Your throat hurts as you swallow softly. 

There’s a news broadcast on the television to Allen’s right. The skyline buzzes, alight behind him. It plays on as he opens his mouth to speak again, he seems to have forgotten that it’s playing.

“Following the events of Thursday evening, we have received word that due to complications, a second surgery would be necessary — which is underway as we speak,” The reporter explains solemnly. She and her co-anchor are both wearing black. “The nation’s thoughts are with you, Mr. President.”

You blink at the fuzzy television screen. The picture they used of your father is from your kindergarten graduation. He’s younger there, his hair dark rather than they grey it has been growing into more recently — he’s got an arm around you, and he’s grinning proudly.

“Shit.” Allen breathes out, sitting up suddenly straight.

 The news broadcast is gone with an abrupt beat. Allen drops the remote down onto the side and scrubs a hand along his salt-and-pepper stubbled jaw, studying the ground.

Your lips flatten into a firm line, your muscles screaming as you lift your head from the pillow. 

Your gaze hardens. “Is he alive?”

Allen swallows. He gives you a small, serious nod. “Yeah. He’s upstairs, in surgery.”

The tone of his voice makes your chest ache. Serious in a way Allen rarely is.

Creeping into his office in your pyjamas. Scolding him for all the times he missed you teddy-bear tea parties. Sitting with him on the swing set in the backyard of the first house you remember. All the times you had told him you hated him as a teenager. How strongly you had meant it the last time.

Your gaze flickers back to the blank television screen, losing yourself in its sudden darkness. 

“How?” You croak out.

Allen hesitates. He presses his lips together and shakes his head softly. “I’ll explain everything when you’re feeling better.”

You turn your head, blinking heavily as you look around the sprawling hospital room. Your parents really spared no expense. Well, your mom— you guess. 

“Jake?” You ask.

“He’s here,” Allen nods solemnly. “He’s sleeping.”

And you can’t see him. It wouldn’t be good for you to see him, not until you’re feeling better.

“Is he—?”

“He’s going to be fine,” Allen sounds sure, and not in a sugar-coated way. He sounds more positive than he had about your father. “You should rest. He comes to see you in the mornings.”

Being on a ward himself, Jake’s been getting on the nurses’ nerves around here, trying to break the rules so he can wander out and see you for as long as possible. His shoulder is just about fine now, he can almost roll it back the way he used to. The doctor says an injury like his doesn’t heal that fast, but Jake has always been ahead of the curve.

He has spread his time between your room on the fourteenth floor, and where the President has been falling in and out of being classed as critical on the fifteenth with little regard for the fact he’s recovering from a surgery on his shoulder himself. With you breathing, he couldn’t care less about being hit himself.

If the bullet hadn’t caught his shoulder, it would have torn through your father’s lungs and killed him right then and there.

You shoot a quick glance toward the darkened hallway. Allen sighs.

“No.”

“I want to know what happened.” You don’t. Not really. You want to pull these foreign covers up over your head and hide and cry your eyes out, scream this whole place down. There’s no easy way to say it, and really, no one knows how you’ll handle it.

You close your eyes for a moment and wait. 

Somehow, you’re safe — you’ll be okay. Jake’s okay. Your father won’t make it through the week. You don’t remember a thing. None of it makes sense.

Jake remembers every detail. He sits awake too, not in his own room but in the hallway of the twelfth floor — as close as he can get to the operating room without being put on his ass by a serviceman. 

In the mornings that he’s able to visit you, Jake likes to talk to you. You’ve been out of the woods for a while now, everyone knows that it’s just a waiting game until you’re stable enough to be awake. Really awake. On the Monday just passed, you had opened your eyes for a few seconds and just blinked at him.

Brows drawn together all stern, your lips pursed, your eyelashes fluttering. He never thought he would be so grateful to see you frowning at him.

He has heard about the past few days. The panic and stress. He has made a strong case for himself to be allowed to be there, but the people who make the calls won’t budge. It’s just not the right time. 

That’s not true. It’s his punishment. 

It’s his punishment, for not being the one in that operating room with his chest cracked open and twelve surgeons fighting to keep his heart beating.

Having spent most of his adult life working in environments where he was the expendable one, Jake had heard a lot of stories. He had heard, most frequently, that time always slows down in the moments that matter.

Not that day. It had been a blur. He had walked into that exchange with certainty; you would be leaving there with him. 

To an extent, he had been expecting Elias to be bluffing. No man on the planet couldn’t be bought — Jake had been expecting a bidding war, and he knew your father had the right amount of money to make this go away.

It hadn’t been that at all.

His stomach twists when he thinks about how they had paraded you before them. The look on Matthew’s face as he studied the dried blood in your hair, and the fresh blood trickling from your temple.

They had hurt you to prove a point. Almost killed you, to send a message. It was too far gone to be about the money.

Jake knows that he isn’t responsible for this, he isn’t the one that put your father in this situation. He’s the only reason that those surgeons are even trying right now — if he hadn’t been there, you’d both be dead. 

He’ll never not be there again.

Jake sits there through the surgery. On the floor with his elbows on his knees, his head rested back against the wall, he sits there for six hours. It should have taken six hours.

At a little after seven, Jake is startled awake by an orderly rushing past him with a rattling metal cart. He checks his watch, which is now settled on the wrong wrist due to his sling, and clumsily pushes himself up from the ground.

“Hey, buddy,” Jake strains, sighing at the ache through his side and clearing his throat as he finds his footing. “How’s he looking?”

The twenty-something year old in scrubs whips around to look at Jake, his eyes wide with heavy blue marks under them. He looks like he’s been up even longer than Jake has.

“You’re the bodyguard.” The kid seems to realize, blinking as his rattling cart comes to a stop. He glances back in the direction of the theater, then at Jake. “Uh… I don’t know. It’s going to be a while before they can say, I guess.”

A muscle in Jake’s jaw ticks. At seven, Jake walks to your hospital room and usually starts to bug whoever is in charge of watching you until they let him visit early.

He glances towards the operating room, and then back at the orderly. This could take hours, something urgent could happen in the next few minutes. He hesitates.

Then, his phone buzzes in the pocket of his sweats. Jake takes it from his pocket and glances quickly down at the screen, with every intention of answering the kid in front of him.

She’s awake. Asking for you too. 

And Jake’s mind is made up. He can’t wait a second longer. His heart feels like it’s in his mouth by the time he’s pushing open the door to your hospital room.

He has seen the bruises fade from blue to yellow, and the IV lines and monitors all around you every day for almost a week. It does nothing to prepare him for the sight of all of those things once you’re awake and staring at him.

“Honey…” His breath catches in his throat, his brows drawing together.

The comprehensive list of your injuries is still typed up at the foot of the bed. Jake could list them off by heart, by now. Fractured eye-socket. Broken ring and middle finger on your right hand. Soft tissue damage to your left foot. Extreme bruising to the abdomen. The fracture in your rib. Every single one of those god-damned bruises.

Your right eye had been swollen shut that first day. Now, it’s wide open. The bruise is yellowed and sore looking, your eyes filled with fear. 

“Jake.” Your voice cracks and your breathing hitches.

It doesn’t matter that Allen is standing right there, sitting back against the window ledge with his arms folded over his chest. Jake couldn’t care less that your mother is watching him like a hawk. 

She has been every single time he has visited.

The security guard steps out of the way as Jake charges forwards. He takes slow, long strides. He’s trying so hard to remember what you’ve been through, and remind himself to be slow with you, but every fibre of his being wants to pull you close and never let you go again.

He stops at the side of your bed and hesitates, just for a split-second. His eyes scan across your face, searching for doubt or fear. As he makes his decision, you make yours too.

 He leans forwards swiftly as you ball your not-injured hand into his shirt, his fingers curling gently around the nape of your neck and pulling you against him.

The room falls silent. Your nose fills with his smell, your cheek presses firmly into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. His thumb strokes at your skin.

For all you care, the other people in the room could have disappeared from the second that Jake touched you. He holds you close, silently. He doesn’t know how much you know yet, whether it’s all or nothing, and he doesn’t care. For now, you’re okay, and you’re with him.

It takes a moment before you notice that he’s only got one arm around you.

Jake watches as you pull back, searching for answers and landing on the blue sling resting around his shoulder, covering his right arm.

“I’m fine,” He assures you instantly, already shaking his head as his palm moves to cup your jaw. He holds your gaze, certain. “I’m fine. It’s superficial. We’re okay.”

Superficial. Allen bites his tongue, but can’t help but disagree. That bullet tore through ligament and bone, and Jake is lucky to be recovering so well. It was far from superficial— the surgery had taken all night. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks, weak sounding and trembling. You drop your head forwards to rest against his unbandaged shoulder. “This is all my fault. This is all my fault, you shouldn’t ever have even met—“

“Stop.” Jake whispers, turning his face towards yours and trying to coax you back to look at him. He closes his eyes, pressing his mouth to your temple. “It’s over now. I’m never going to let anything happen to you again. It’s over.” 

Your mother watches. There’s a cautious, nagging feeling that tugs at her that she really doesn’t know you at all. There isn’t much that feels familiar about watching you with him — she wouldn’t have a clue how to calm you the way that he does.

“I want to go home.” You whisper, balling your hands tighter into his t-shirt. If he didn’t know any better, he’d guess that you’re trying to pull him right into your hospital bed with you.

“Yeah, a couple more days, honey,” Jake nods his head. He’s been speaking with your doctor. Once they’re certain that you’re stable enough, you’re free to go. “We’ll get you back to the house.”

“No.” You rush out, so fast that it almost makes you hiccup. It’s then that your head turns, your eyes wide and searching as you look around the room. Just as quickly, before you’ve even met the gaze of Allen or your mother, you bury your face into the crook of his neck and squeeze your eyes shut. Just quiet enough for Jake to hear, you whimper softly. “I don’t want to go back there. I want to go with you.”

Jake feels your mother’s gaze burning into his back, and knows what she must be thinking. She’s about to lose her husband and she thinks that Jake’s going to take you too.

“With me?” He murmurs, stroking a hand over your hair. Your mother has been taking pride in maintaining it — she has cared for you in so many quiet ways recently. Jake will tell you all about it, another time.

“Could — maybe we could see your mom again?” It feels ridiculous to ask, and from the second that the words leave your mouth, you’re already worrying about the kind of danger you could be putting them in.

But for Jake, it makes his heart catch with sudden relief.

“Yeah,” He hums. “Yeah, we can do that.”

He perches on the edge of your bed, draping his good arm around your shoulders. Your mother watches as you curl against him, closing your eyes and finally unballing your fists.

The room falls quiet, and stays that way. 

Allen lets the two of you have the peace and quiet. Your mother, simply, has little to say. 

An hour later, a little after eight, there’s a commotion in the hallway. Jake watches the bustle between the security guards silently, a heavy feeling settling in his gut as he braces for what is coming. 

He feels you perk up at his side as their voices grow more hushed, trying to peek over him.

He turns his face towards your hair and kisses the top of your head softly, wrapping his arm tighter around you. “It’s alright.”

He pities the poor guy who opens the door to the room, forced to meet your mother’s gaze with a sullen expression. He clears his throat weakly, hands tucked behind his back. “Ma’am.”

Your mother isn’t a dumb woman. She doesn’t need it explained to her. The doctors had explained the risks, and explained that he might not make it. Her husband is dead.

…

[alittlerpblogforalittleguy]

Matthew was tired and ready to go home. He worked a late night and would have probably gotten home earlier if not for an attack, causing him to stay late and treat the victims. He sighed gently, he missed having Rogue by his side on nights like this, but he was just starting out at this job and his boss had made comments about how a service dog might be seen as a liability on the ER floor. So he let Allen dog sit while he was at work.

He was almost home when a human fell down to the sidewalk in front him seemingly from the sky, "Holy shit." The blonde spoke startled before rushing over to the unconscious man. At least he was wearing a helmet and body armor. Matthew checked for neck or back damage before his hands touched the red helmet... RedHood... shit fuck okay hospital is not an option. Matthew took stock of his injuries, he was bleeding in multiple places a bit of magic made sure he wasn't bleeding to death before he moved to pick him up, "Jesus you're packing a lot of muscle." The Blonde muttered as he carried the other back to his shitty apartment building and up the stairs to his apartment. He set the man up on his couch. Leaving the hood and underwear, he took off his clothes, treated his wounds, covered him in a blanket supporting his helmetted head with a pillow, and then made a call as he started cooking his dinner/breakfast.

"Hey Allen, sorry for waking you... I'm just calling to say I made it home. See you tomorrow for Rogue. Night." He hung up as his food was still cooking, trying to be quiet as the Redhood recovered. Trying to ignore how weird it was to not even be in Gotham for a month and to have the Redhood recuperating on his shitty couch.

@fanpandemonium

[steviewashere]

To Be Cast Away and Brought Back In

(also on ao3)

wc: 1,986, Steddie Tags: Post Season 4, Post Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Minor Character Death, Minor Sick Character, Mentions of Chronic Illnesses, Established Steddie (For the rest of the tags, they're on ao3. No content warning.)

--------

Eddie Munson moved to Hawkins, Indiana at the age of ten. He was picked up by social services with a good portion of his belongings, carted into the back of an unsuspecting little black Cadillac, escorted to Forest Hills Trailer Park, and practically pushed into his Uncle Wayne's floundering arms. Wayne knew that he'd be getting a new roommate, but the softness after all the commotion didn't make Eddie's anxieties lessen any.

There was a point in time where he could accurately tell somebody that he was being taken care of at home by both of his parents. His dad would play catch in the front yard. Mama Munson would read illustrated books and prep his bubble baths. They were tight knit, for a while, they could expect one another to be there. As present as ever. With dinner on the table and a new funny story and a mountain of homework on Eddie's part.

But it wasn't made to last. Eddie didn't expect for it all to come crumbling down before he had the chance to even start junior high, but it happened anyway. Papa Munson, better known as Allen "Al" Munson to authorities, had been in and out of jail a good portion of young Eddie's life. Usually on several counts of theft. One time for grand theft auto. But he would come out of it, be put on parole, and eventually make his way back to their little home in the outskirts of Indianapolis.

What tore into Eddie, however, was his mother.

Eleanor Munson, or Nora as she liked to be called, had always been sick in one way or another. Whether it was physically—coughing fits that led to incessant gagging and sometimes what seemed like endless bouts of vomiting, or chronic nerve pain that forced her to lay still in bed for far too long, and more often than not, the migraines. And then there was of course some town cries of her being emotionally inept or mentally ill or a basket case on legs or a nervous, psychotic break. Whatever clever thing they could think of at the time, when it would later be "manic depression," but that wouldn't come until some years after Eddie had already relocated.

Most of Eddie's growing up was spent taking care of his mother. Bringing her ice packs, heat packs, the hot water bottle, warm towels. Some days he'd draw her a bath. Other days he'd just tiptoe with some painkillers, a glass of water, and a plate of plain toast—she'd send him off to play on his own. He had toys and books and art supplies, a small bicycle and a baseball, but he didn't want to do any of that. Not on his own. And since his dad was often out and causing mishap or landing himself behind bars, his growing up had been desolate and desperate and all too lonely.

He hates to acknowledge some of his true feelings now. The rise of pent up resentment. Simmering anger and that gnawing sadness. It attached to his ten year old heart and didn't want to let go.

Not even when he moved in with Uncle Wayne.

On the first night at the trailer, Eddie simply threw his bags to the linoleum floor by the front door, stomped over to the couch, and landed so that his face was digging into one of the seat cushions. He remembers muffling some screams, definitely a few wet sobs, even some disgusting snot rockets. Yet, and he finds himself appreciating it even now, Wayne just leet him do his thing. Let him cry and yell and choke for what seemed like an eternity.

And when he came back to his present body, sitting up with the effort of a brand new body builder loading on too many weights, Wayne simply brought him a cup of hot cocoa in the Garfield mug set aside just for troublesome nights like these. Though, the troubled nights ended up being near daily.

Could you blame Eddie? He was dumped off. It felt as if he was something being abandoned at a junkyard. Though, Wayne's trailer has always been too nice for that comparison.

Even later on that night, when Wayne had shown him to his bed and gave him a warm comforter and a full glass of ice water, Eddie had asked, "When do I get to go home and be with my mama?"

Wayne tucked him in. Huffed a hot puff of breath. And he whispered, "You ain't goin' back, Bubba. You're 'ere with me now."

Eddie's lip trembled, brown eyes growing wide and wet. "This is my home?" his little voice squeaked. "But—Mama...Mama is at home."

He watched as his uncle shook his head. Clicked his tongue against his teeth. And sat heavily next to Eddie's side. "Did those people not tell you why you're 'ere?" Eddie shook his head. "Bubba—" He sighed. "Bubba, you couldn't get your mama to wake up, right?" And Eddie nodded. "So you called me. And...I helped you get people to come check on her. They—" Wayne sniffled and wiped a hand down his face, dragging his features. "Your mama isn't at home anymore. She died, Ed."

"Died?" Eddie whispered, horrified. Wayne simply nodded.

He remembers getting a conversation a few months ago, something about his mom not doing too well. What to do, just in case. To call his Uncle Wayne.

"In case she dies," was one of the first things talked about. His dad had told him. He knows what it means. They had a dog at one point, he had died in an accident. A goldfish, too, that died from old age. Even the cat they took in from the street, she died from an illness.

"But—But what about Papa? How come I don't get to go with him?"

"Your daddy is in a lot of trouble, kiddo. Remember how he was always getting in trouble for things?" Wayne asked, once again, Eddie nodded. "He did something bad again and now he's doing a lot of time for it." Another weary sigh. "We'll talk about it some more, okay? I promise. Tonight, you just need to get some sleep."

Eddie shuffled further under the comforter. Before Wayne could get too far, Eddie called out, "Can you read my book to me, please?" He gestured to a battered up copy of The Hobbit on his bedside table.

"You're reading The Hobbit?"

"Mama used to read it to me; before she got super sick," Eddie whispered.

And that became their nightly tradition. Nice dinner, hot cocoa in the Garfield mug, warm shower, tucked into bed, and Wayne would read aloud The Hobbit. Until eventually it turned into them trading off chapters. Eddie would do the character voices and Wayne would compliment him.

Eddie's life truly began in the sanctuary of Wayne's trailer. Given items for Dungeons and Dragons, the rest of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, and more hot meals than he had ever had in his life.

Things were normal, they were fine.

Until Chrissy Cunningham died. Broken and bleeding. Until he ran. Patrick dead too, the same way. More running and hiding and being hunted down. Watching other people nearly lose their lives. Almost losing his own.

The days spent in the hospital, tied up by tubes and ports and constant streams of doctors. Calling him a miracle. His friends calling him a hero. Wayne going back to his habit of calling him Bubba.

And then, though there was the nightmares and the flashbacks and the other issues that arose from the ashes of the Upside Down, things became okay again.

Eddie fell in love with his high school crush, Steve Harrington. And Steve Harrington fell in love with someone unsuspected in Eddie. They shared a constant space. Holding each other through blood soaked nightmares. Getting high to a bearable level, not going far enough to push Steve into a corner.

What Eddie wasn't prepared to handle were the migraines. Not from him. Though, he definitely had days where his scars felt too tight or there was the phantom sensation of those things biting into his flesh. No, Steve had them.

As severe as Nora Munson did. Leaving Steve Harrington bedridden, nauseous, in pain that only worsened unless he could sleep it off. He was tired a good portion of the time. And when he wasn't, he was in pain.

In fact, it's one of those migraine attacks right now. It comes full force in the early hours of June 16th, 1986. Eddie hasn't been around for one before, but he knows immediately what to do. Grabs ice packs and a cold wet rag. Makes a plate of plain toast with butter. Fills a glass with ice water and the center of his palm with some extra strength painkillers.

Eddie makes quick work. Draping the rag on Steve's sweaty forehead. Gently setting the icepack at the back of his skull. Helping him take his medication, leaving the food and water on the bedside table.

Just as he tiptoes to leave the room, however, he hears from behind him in a hushed voice, "Where you going?" Granted, the syllables are slurred, a lot tired. He can realize that it must take Steve a great amount of effort to just speak out, even something so mundane. Eddie winces in solidarity.

"I'm giving you some space," Eddie whispers back.

"You don't ha-fta go," Steve whines. "Come lay with me," he offers, patting the empty space beside him.

Though it goes against all of what Eddie knows, he obliges anyway. He hesitantly climbs back into bed. Stiff on the mattress. Body barely covered by the blanket, just in case. Then, Steve scoots close and wraps himself along Eddie's side. And because he can't help himself, Eddie brings one of his hands to tickle over Steve's spine. The other traces the moles on his forearm.

"You can talk," Steve whispers. "I don't like the silence."

Eddie hums. Squeezes Steve's bicep before trailing back down to his forearm. "My mom used to get migraines. Knew how to take care of her," he murmurs. "She made me leave her alone. But...If that's what she wanted, then I did it. Even if I wanted her to play or read with me."

"I'll never make you go away," Steve breathes into the exposed skin of Eddie's neck. "Reminds me that there's somebody here that cares." Eddie hums again. "My parents didn't like taking care of me when I was sick, I was kind of a lot as a kid."

"Could never be too much for me." Eddie carefully leans down and presses a kiss to Steve's hairline. "I'll do anything you need. It's just hard for me to do sometimes, puts me back in that mindset, I guess."

"That's okay," Steve sighs.

They let silence lapse around them.

It's nice, to stay in the room. To be there. Knowing that he's needed, especially. He was needed when he was a kid, there's no doubt about that. But it's different, somehow it's a different kind of necessity.

"Can you tell me a story, Eds?"

And so Eddie does one of the many things Wayne taught him. He builds an elaborate story from thin air. About pleasant things and badass knights and princesses with gorgeous dresses and hair. He weaves elaborate plot lines about the characters saving one another, being there for one another. If the inspiration comes from him and Steve, nobody has to know, but he feels as though Steve caught on.

He can hear Steve yawn at some point. When he glances down, catching Steve trying to keep his eyes open, he snorts. "You can go to sleep, baby. I'll be right here when you wake up next."

"Promise?"

"Promise, Stevie. There's no place I'd rather be."

[deadpresidents]

Exactly 100 years ago, President Warren Gamaliel Harding escaped the sweltering summer weather and increasingly dark political climate of Washington, D.C. to embark upon a lengthy cross-country trip through parts of the American West still relatively unaccustomed to frequent visits by the nation’s Chief Executive. Billed as a “Voyage of Understanding”, Harding’s trip was seen as a prelude to his potential campaign for re-election the following year, and an opportunity to put some literal and figurative distance between the President and the rumors of rampant corruption swirling around some of Harding’s friends and closest aides from Ohio, as well as several Cabinet members — rumors eventually proven to be true, resulting in indictments, convictions, prison sentences, and even suicides. As President Harding prepared for his Western tour, he could feel the heat as the scandals plaguing his Administration began to reach a boiling point. Speaking privately to the famous journalist and editor William Allen White, Harding said of the Presidency, “My God, this is a hell of a job! I have no trouble with my enemies…But my damn friends, they’re the ones that keep me walking the floor nights.”

Harding’s planned 15,000-mile Voyage of Understanding began on June 20, 1923. Traveling aboard the private Pullman railroad car Superb, the 57-year-old President left Washington, D.C. accompanied by First Lady Florence Harding, Speaker of the House of Representatives Frederick H. Gillett, new Interior Secretary Hubert Work, and a large retinue of aides, friends and their families, doctors, Secret Service agents, and members of the press. Work had become Secretary of the Interior a few months earlier when the previous Secretary, Albert B. Fall, became the “fall guy” for the Teapot Dome scandal. For his role in the scandal, Fall was later convicted of accepting bribes — the first former Cabinet member in American history to serve time in prison for crimes committed while in office. At later points along the journey, Harding’s party was also joined by Secretary of Agriculture Henry C. Wallace (father of future Vice President Henry A. Wallace) and Secretary of Commerce (and future President) Herbert Hoover.

The last week of June 1923 was spent traveling through the Mountain West — Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, Idaho, Montana, and Yellowstone National Park. The beginning of July saw the Presidential party in the Northwest and celebrating Independence Day in Portland, Oregon before boarding the USS Henderson in Tacoma, Washington on July 5, 1923 to sail to Alaska. One of the expected highlights of the Voyage of Understanding was the northernmost  leg of the trip, as Harding became the first incumbent President of the United States to visit Alaska and Canada. The Territory of Alaska had been purchased for the United States by Secretary of State William Seward in 1867 when Warren G. Harding was two years old, and at the time of Harding’s visit, Alaska was still 35 years from being admitted to the Union as the 49th state. But the President spent nearly the entire month of July traveling through the state, mixing public appearances with private recreation and sightseeing. On July 15, 1923, Harding hammered a golden spike in Nenana, Alaska to officially complete the Alaska Railroad. And ten days later, the President crossed into Canada, fishing on the Campbell River in British Columbia on July 25th and then making an official visit the following day in Vancouver, where he was greeted by one of the largest crowds of his voyage — estimated at over 40,000 people — and where he also squeezed in a round of golf at the exclusive Shaughnessy Golf Club.

The President returned to American soil on July 27th, arriving in Seattle and making several speeches in a busy six-hour period — first to Camp Fire Girls at Volunteer Park, then to nearly 30,000 Boy Scouts at Woodland Park, and finishing the day addressing over 30,000 people at what is now Husky Stadium at the University of Washington where he predicted statehood for Alaska, where he had spent most of the month. After making a brief appearance that evening at the Seattle Press Club, Harding boarded his train that night to travel to Portland, Oregon.

But something was not right. The President seemed to be exhausted, perhaps from the grueling trip through geography much wilder than Harding’s native Ohio or swampy Washington, D.C. Despite his exciting journey through Alaska and the energetic welcome provided by the Canadian people, Harding was clearly wiped out by the time he reached British Columbia. The President did head to the country club while in Vancouver, but he was so tired that after six holes of golf his foursome skipped directly to the eighteenth hole, seemingly completing the round without tipping off the press that Harding couldn’t play the entire course.

From the White House, nine days before embarking upon his Voyage of Understanding, Harding wrote a quick note to Solicitor General James M. Beck who had wished the President a safe journey on his upcoming trip. Thanking Beck, Harding wrote, “I shall try to remember not to overdo (it) in crossing the continent.” And, on June 14, 1923, six days before leaving, President Harding wrote a short letter to a young girl from Hartford, Connecticut named Vivian Little, who had recently sent the President a four-leaf clover as a good luck charm. “Thank you so much for the four-leaf clover which you were so good as to press and send to me,” the President wrote. “I hope it will bring me good luck and that it will bring you still more of the same.”

However, any luck that President Warren G. Harding still had seemed to be running out. Ill and exhausted after leaving Vancouver, Harding tried to rest aboard the USS Henderson as it sailed to Seattle in the early morning hours of July 27. At some point around 3 AM, Harding and the other passengers aboard the Henderson were jolted awake as the ship crashed into the USS Zeilin, an American destroyer accompanying the Presidential party while they traveled through the foggy Puget Sound. This was not the first mishap of the Voyage of Understanding. While traveling through Colorado early in the trip, three people from the President’s party had been killed in a car accident. And now, after a few weeks in Alaska where Harding was able to at least temporarily forget about his Administration’s many troubles, the President was not only sick and tired but two of his Navy’s ships had just smashed into each other almost as soon as he had returned to the continental United States. While the USS Zeilin was badly damaged in the collision, the USS Henderson was not and there were apparently no major injuries on either vessel. But when the President’s valet, Major Arthur Brooks, came to Harding’s stateroom aboard the Henderson to inform him that the captain was calling for all hands on deck, he found the depressed President lying on his bed with his face buried in his hands. “I hope the boat sinks,” President Harding quietly muttered.

It was just hours later that Harding made his whirlwind tour through Seattle, putting on a brave face at his public appearances, but clearly not feeling well. While he was never considered a brilliant orator like Abraham Lincoln, Benjamin Harrison, or his immediate predecessor, Woodrow Wilson, Harding was a strong speaker and excellent communicator who had a unique ability to connect with audiences, but he was obviously — and unusually — halting and confused while speaking in Seattle on July 27th. As he boarded his train at Seattle’s King Street Station that night, Harding was examined by his doctor and by Interior Secretary Hubert Work, who had once been a physician, and they decided to cancel the next several days of planned activities. Instead of stopping in Portland and then visiting Yosemite National Park, the Presidential party was ordered to proceed directly to San Francisco where Harding could rest before giving a speech on the radio planned for July 31st which was expected to be heard by over 5 million people.

Despite the four-leaf clover that had been sent to him by Vivian Little before his Voyage of Understanding, Warren Gamaliel Harding’s luck seemed to be running out. And, as his train sped through Oregon en route to San Francisco’s Palace Hotel on July 28, 1923, President Harding was also running out of time.  

[a-whump-muffin]

game over (01)

WRU makes a fatal mistake, which Handler Allen Rosburg pays for with his life: they unknowingly make a pet out of a serial killer.

i wanted to write a thing with red flag protags, so here's the result.

music inspiration: growing wings cw: box boy universe, dehumanization, murder

Allen saw the video.

This assignment was a death sentence, but he accepted the paperwork anyways. He didn’t have a choice. It was either play their game or accept defeat, and Allen wasn’t ready to hand his employers the smoking gun just yet.

He ignored the hushed commentary in the breakroom and hallways. He turned his head away from the twisted frowns and arrogant smiles. On a normal day, he would have joined the gossip mill – no one in the facility who couldn’t mingle harmoniously with the odd personalities the job attracted lasted very long.

However, Allen had been the gossip mill’s most recent chew toy for his catastrophic failure. The displeased client was chomping at the bit to sue the company if his shiny new “toy” wasn’t fixed to his exact specifications. In Allen’s opinion, which was apparently worth less than dirt, the man should have requested a Romantic if those were the services he wanted out of a pet. Now, his head was on the chopping block and his superiors obviously didn’t forget it in all the chaos of the morning.

“So, according to the grapevine, Mark might not pull through,” Paula from Intake told him in an unnecessarily hushed voice. “I wouldn’t want to be the one who’s got to break it to his family if he really does, you know.”

Allen toyed with the idea of ignoring her. He was already a pariah among the other Platonic handlers. Everyone was keeping their distance, mainly out of self-preservation, and Allen hadn’t bothered to rock the boat. It wasn’t personal. They didn’t want to end up on the next executive’s naughty list.

“How bad was it, really?” Allen asked, briefly meeting Paula’s eyes. Her false and clinical friendliness faltered slightly.

“Bad,” she said. Allen swallowed around a knot in his throat. Paula had been working here for eight years, so a single word from her spoke volumes. She might have loved gossip and chatting over lunch, but she never minced words when it came to work. “He did some major damage in transport, too. No one could get close enough to stick him with a sedative, so they came in hot. I barely saw him, actually. I heard they want to get him on the Drip immediately and worry about the intake afterwards.”

The involuntary acquisitions, or ‘assisted walk-ins’ officially, were actually much rarer occurrences than those pet liberation fanatics lead the public to believe. They weren’t usually worth the effort, resources, or risk unless a client had a specific preference that couldn’t be matched through normal means.

There were plenty of fully willing and desperate volunteers, after all. WRU didn’t accept any and all applicants off the streets. There was even an official waiting list.

This new trainee must have been acquired for a specific client, which meant this was another high ticket assignment. Allen had more or less felt like the living dead for the past few weeks, and this recent development filled him with dread.

Mark Simmons was supposed to be the new trainee’s handler, but he was carted away in an ambulance due to massive head trauma earlier in the morning. Allen saw the security footage of the handler dragging the acquisition into a training room, completely skipping over the signing process.

Mark’s fatal mistake was insisting on using his usual training protocol and refusing the help of any other handler. It wasn’t an entirely egotistical decision. In many cases, isolation training was a valid method that worked well on stubborn and aggressive trainees. The desperation to please became a necessity of survival.

However, in this case, isolation became the reason Mark was completely overwhelmed and mutilated on the floor of the training room.

Allen held his breath when he watched the moment it happened.

The trainee was a young man of a fairly tall stature, dark brown hair matted with blood. The bruises and cuts on his face from the struggle to apprehend him were obvious. He seemed, at the time, too exhausted and disoriented to put up another hellish fight. He was locked into handcuffs, deep in the belly of the facility.

Mark was transferring him to the built in restraints in the center of the room when the trainee moved.

In a burst of incredible strength fueled by adrenaline, the young man grabbed hold of the remote control strapped to Mark’s waist. It was a black box no larger than a phone, used to activate the shock collars all trainees wore.

Instead of mistaking the remote for a taser, as some trainees had in the heat of the moment, the young man slammed the device against the side of Mark’s head. Mark managed to deflect the first blow by bringing his arm up, but the man was not deterred. He swiftly struck him again. This time, the strike landed, and Mark fell like a sack of bricks.

However, instead of trying to steal the keys or run for the door, the trainee hit him again. And again.

By the third hit, Mark’s movements were sluggish, probably from the head trauma. The trainee fought like he was possessed. Once, Mark managed to push him away with one flailing hand, which the man surprisingly bit as hard as possible, tearing a chunk of flesh from the meat of his palm. It landed on the floor after he spat it out.

It was terrible, but the longer he watched the bloody scene unfold, the harder it was to look away. The violence was so unhinged, it almost seemed unreal. Mark was barely able to retaliate. The trainee was out for blood.

The camera caught a glimpse of the trainee’s face a few times throughout the assault, and the sight made Allen drop the tablet, numb with terror that sank, cold as ice, down to his bones.

A deranged smile and light brown eyes dripping with malice stared back at him from the screen. For a brief moment, it was as if they made eye contact, as if this beast in human skin was staring at him across time and space.

The young man easily grabbed the baton strapped to Mark’s belt while the handler was writing in pain, trying to scramble to his feet. The trainee didn’t even bother reaching for the keys to unlock the handcuffs on his wrists. He just resumed his assault, each blow heavier than the last, until the alarms began to wail and other handlers burst into the room to subdue him.

It was clear after watching the video just once that the new trainee didn’t attack Mark out of self-defense. He actively enjoyed the violence.

Despite his situation – kidnapped and transported to a white, featureless room to be wiped and trained as a human pet, he still had the mind to take great pleasure in the raw brutality and violence. When the handlers shocked him with a taser and nearly broke his arm trying to secure them behind his back, the young man’s wild, mute grin stared them in the face the whole time.

He never said a word. He never even screamed.

Allen didn’t think he was alone in believing it was impossible to ever make this person a successful pet. A person this unhinged and violent could never truly be made docile and pliant, even if they pumped him full of drugs.

Allen’s breath caught in his throat and he put down his fork, no longer hungry.

This was not the first time this man had killed someone and it would not be the last.

[bookmansjournal]

hi hello!! i saw ur askbox was open for requests! 🧡✨ how do you think the ot4 would react to/handle a reader whos currently obsessed with a safe food? as an example my current safefood is onigiri (but it can b anything !!) and i eat that a Ton and can get depressed if my rice doesnt turn out right or smth when i cook a new batch! can be humerous too ofc 🥰✨ i hope you have a nice day !!! 🧡 - @alienaiver 🧡✨

You probably meant OT4 at just the main four but you know, I like the idea of a chaotic OT5 with them and Reader. It would be as disastrous as it was loving.

With how Allen eats, he doesn’t notice nor understand the idea of a safe food since he just inhales everything. Honestly you’d have to explain why a dish meant so much to you for him to get it

He likes to bring you whatever it may be when you’re busy so he can make sure you’re eating. He also likes to use it to cheer you up.

God bless him, he’s tried to make it for you himself but it just turned out horrifically awful. An absolute disaster. He refuses to let you even try it so he doesn’t risk upsetting you or ruining the food for you altogether.

He makes sure never to order whatever it is for himself because he’d just feel awful if there wasn’t any left afterwards for you to eat. He’s sure it must be tasty if it’s making you smile like that, he doesn’t need to try it—unless you insist, in which case, how can he say no?

Yeah Kanda isn’t going to notice anything either. If on some odd chance he does, he chalks it up to you being a picky eater maybe, like he is with soba. Needless to say, with this mentality, you can trust him with your food to not steal any, but you can’t trust him to understand when it makes you upset.

And god does he not get it when you’re upset because of your food. He unintentionally may come across as insensitive when he bluntly asks you what’s the matter when you’re sulking at a meal. Patience is a virtue and you’re gonna need it with him when you explain how your safe food is just important to you.

While outwardly he just shrugs it off, you do notice him offering you lunch boxes as peace offerings when you’re in a bad mood—regardless if he was the cause. He’s not good with communicating, so this act of service is a god send for the relationship in an odd way.

You can offer to show him how to make it if you want an excuse to spend time with him but he’s going to suck at whatever you ask him to do. Chop something? More like obliterates it. Stir it together? Well now it’s mostly on the counter and floor. He’s frustrated but he enjoys your company, so it’s a win-lose situation.

“Does it really taste that good? Give me a bite, I wanna try it~” He thinks he’s being cheeky, not realizing he’s kind of being insensitive by making light of it or by trying to take some of it from you. Apologizes with nuzzles and offering to feed you.

Like it or not, he memorizes everything about you, even the tiniest details. When it comes to you, everything is Important Information, and Important Information does not get buried or forgotten, both because of his photographic memory and also because he knows how beneficial the information can be. Like when he orders an extra side of whatever your safe food is just to make sure you get your fill of it.

Unknowingly can be a bit obnoxious at times with pestering you about how it tastes or how it compares to other places or people who make it. Sometimes he even tries to offer alternative dishes to try. It comes from a good place, he’s just getting used to being open and genuine about his love and he can fumble the ball from time to time.

Regardless of what he says or does, he always has a loving smile on his face while he watches you eat. Seeing you light up over something that seems so small and inconsequential really makes his day, especially if he was the one to gift it to you.

Lenalee definitely noticed and understood to some degree the importance of your safe food to you, and she quietly tucked that information away for safe keeping and didn’t bring it up. No need to make a production out of it, after all.

Her primary love language is acts of service because she likes the feeling she gets when she helps people, so of course she learns to make whatever your safe food is just for you. Though she’d be lying if she said she didn’t prefer making it with you, her other love language being quality time.

Your food is safe with her! No gluttonous heathens can vacuum up your food in their black holes of a stomach (ahem, ALLEN) if you happen to be sharing a table. She also won’t stand for anyone giving you hell about it. If Kanda can eat his Soba and Alma can eat his mayo and Krory can eat his akuma—er, well, you know what she means!—then you can eat whatever you damn well please.

Honestly she probably developed a taste for whatever it is as well. Since it was something special to you that you felt like you could share with her, she holds a special place for it in her heart. Of course she’d never take from your plate, but she likes those meals spent sharing your special dish in a peaceful, loving atmosphere.

[suckitsurveys]

What color are your eyes? They are green.

Is anyone you work with currently on maternity leave or vacation? Yeah, a few coworkers are on vacation this week.

Favorite boy’s name? I’ve always loved Eli.

Baked macaroni and cheese or regular? I like both but baked is SO good.

What’s the first thing you learned how to draw? I don’t know.

Name one of your friends’ children: None of my close friends have kids.

What was the name of your 5th grade teacher? Mr. Jacker.

Sterling silver or titanium? Whichever.

How many hours do you work in a day? 8 hours typically but I’ve been working 9 for some extra money.

Have you ever been to a casino? Yes, a few. Some here in the Chicago area and some out in Nevada (not LV).

Who wrote the last book you read? I haven’t read something in a while.

What’s the middle name of your bestfriend? Ann, Marie, Allen, Raymond.

What’s your favorite food? Sushi.

How far away do you live from the closest aquarium? Like half an hour.

Favorite girl’s name? Josie or Alexandra.

Name one of your candle scents: Gardenia.

What’s the name of your favorite restaurant? Any place with all you can eat sushi.

Are you in a relationship? If so, how long? Yes, I am married. We’ve been together a total of 13 years and married for 7.

Who in your family has a birthday in January? My mother’s birthday is the 28th.

When was the last time you lost power? How long was it out and the cause? A few weeks ago because of a storm.

Do you know any twins? Yes.

What’s your favorite flower? Gardenias.

Pick 3 random colors: Purple, orange, grey.

Would you ever dye your hair that color? I’ve had purple hair before. I don’t think I’d do like, straight up orange but I’d do a reddish orange. And I’ll have grey eventually.

Do you own any underwear that color? Yes.

Can this be used as a last name? Grey is a common last name.

What’s your favorite country song? Jolene by Dolly Parton.

Do you drink alcohol? Sometimes.

Do you use any food delivery services such as UberEats, DoorDash, etc? Sometimes.

What color is your mailbox? White.

What age did you lose your virginity? 20.

Dogs or cats? Cats.

Do you know anyone who’s been to prison? Yup.

What’s one thing on your shopping list? Snacks for our road trip next week!

Freeze tag or musical chairs? Freeze tag.

Where did you go on your last vacation? NOLA. I’m going to The Dells next week though.

Have you ever been stuck in the mud? Maybe?

What was the last thing you took a picture of? My cat.

Name someone you work with: Eric..

Chick-fil-A, Taco Bell or McDonald’s? Taco Bell.

Did you ever get an allowance as a child? Not a set amount, no.

What food do you see the most of at baby showers? I haven’t been to enough baby showers to notice a common food, but maybe cupcakes or some sort of sweet treat.

Do you know the capital of your state? Yes.

Have you ever rode on a motorcycle? Nope.

When’s the last time you ate any type of sweet? Yesterday I had one of those Reese’s Big Cups with caramel which is easily my new favorite candy.

Pizza rolls or bagel bites? Both are good.

What kind of flooring is in the room you’re in? Carpet tiles.

Is the internet connection good where you live at? Yeah.

Do you need to do laundry? We need some towels washed.

What’s your favorite scent? Gardenia.

Have you ever lived in a hotel before? Not lived, no.

What kind of pets does your grandmother have? My grandparents are all dead.

Do you follow any type of trials? Not really, no.

What’s the last show you really got into that you have to wait for the next season of? I mean, I’m waiting for the next seasons of The White Lotus and Stranger Things.

SpongeBob or Patrick? Plankton.

When’s the last time you saw fireworks? About a month ago on the 4th.

Have you ever witnessed a car accident? Yup.

Do you own a pair of fuzzy socks? Yes.

What kind of ice cream is your favorite? Butter Pecan.

Have you ever been skinny dipping? Yes.

Sprinkles or frosting? Frosting.

Do you like mushrooms? I looooove mushrooms.

How many tattoos do you have? 11.

Do you own any type of hand sanitizers? Yes, I almost always have some on me.

Have you ever worked in a grocery store? Nope.

What’s your Subway order? I dislike subway.

When was the last time you used the bathroom? Just a few moments ago.

Do you know how to roller skate? Yes, but I have not tried in a very long time.

Can you read sheet music? Nope.

How old is your youngest sibling? I am the youngest.

Do you have an Amazon account? Yes.

What day is payday? Twice a month on Fridays.

What’s one food your family has at Thanksgiving? My dad makes this amazing andouille sausage and cornbread stuffing.

Do you like painting? Sure.

Have you ever been swimming with dolphins? No.

What’s your favorite snack food? Chips and salsa/guac/cheese.

You’re watching Law & Order, is it the regular or SVU? I’m not into that show.

What were you doing last time it snowed? I don’t know, probably complaining about it.

Do you have to sleep with a fan on? Yes, or some kind of white noise.

Chapstick or lip gloss? Chapstick.

When was the last time you took a shower? Sunday night.

Do you know how to play basketball? For the most part.

Name one thing you put on a salad: Croutons.

Do you own anything that’s your favorite color? Yeah.

What’s the last thing you ordered from a Mexican restaurant? Tacos and chips and guac

Do you carry a purse or a backpack? I have a little mini backpack I used as a purse.

What kind of soda is your favorite? Root Beer, specifically Barq’s.

Have you ever cut yourself shaving? Oh yeah.

Penguins or pandas? Pandas. Do you like your in-laws? I FUCKING HATE my brother in law (sister’s husband) with a fucking fiery burning passion greater and hotter than the force of 10000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 suns. BUT my husband’s family is awesome and his mom loves me and is so kind and sweet to me. They’re really great.

What do you usually do for Christmas? Last year we started a new tradition where we do “Christmas morning” with my sister and her family on Christmas eve morning at my dad’s house, and then we have an extended family party. Christmas morning we haven’t figured out yet; we’d usually celebrate with my sister and her family but they got tired of having to rush through to make it to her husband’s side of the family’s party. Last year Mark and I went over to my dad’s and just hung out with him for a bit

Have you ever used any type of Aromatherapy? Yeah.

Toe socks or ankle socks? Ankle. Who’s your favorite Pokémon character? Human? Ash. Actual Pokemon? Pikachu, always.

What’s the temperature range in your area? It’s 67F right now.

Does your trash need to be taken out? No, I took it out last night.

Nachos or chips and salsa? Both.

What’s the name of your pets? Friday, Sake, Ramona.

Have you been around anyone that creeped you out? Yes.

What’s your Chick-fil-A order? I don’t eat there.

Regular or pink lemonade? Both are nice.

Do you know anyone who’s lost their house in a natural disaster? I don’t think so.

What’s your favorite candy? Kit Kats, Sour Patch Kids, and those new Reese’s Big Cups with caramel. Chinese or Japanese cuisine? Japanese.

Colored pencils or sharpies? Sharpies.

Do you own a pair of Crocs? Nope.

Have you ever been to DisneyWorld? I have not.

Does anyone in your family have a birthday in February? Yes, my cousin’s daughter and my nephew-in-law.

How long does it take for your phone to fully charge? I have no idea.

What color is your hairbrush? Pink and black.

Is there any movies out that you want to see? I want to see Wicked and the new Beetlejuice movie.

Do you know how to run a cash register? I did at one point but it’s been a while.

Chicken or beef noodles? Beef I guess, although in general I’m not a fan of noodles.

What year did you get your drivers license? Uhhhhhh 2010.

What kind of makeup do you wear? When I do wear make up it’s foundation, eyeliner, mascara and maybe lipstick.

What’s your Taco Bell order? Crunchy tacos and nachos and a Baja Blast.

Do you wear any type of shimmer spray or glitter? Not usually.

Have you ever lived in a trailer/doublewide? No.

What’s your boyfriends/girlfriends middle name? My husband’s middle name is Allen.

Are you into anime? Eh, there’s a couple I like but I wouldn’t say I’m “into” it.

Pizza or nacho lunchables? I don’t remember having nacho ones, just pizza.

Have you ever been to a strip club? Nope.

Do you know how to play any instruments? Nope.

Have you ever been inside of a courtroom? Yes.

What kind of restaurants do you eat at while you’re on vacation? I mean, depends, but I like to try local foods.

Did you ever participate in any pageants when you were younger? Nope.

What kind of cheese is your favorite? Goat cheese, sharp cheddar, fresh mozz.

Does your phone have any cracks or scuffs? Yeah, but just on the case, which I suppose is the reason I have a case lol.

Have you ever had a professional massage? Nope.

Which would you rather have, twins or triplets? If I had no other choice, twins.

Do you drink energy drinks? No.

Can you swim? Yes.

Make the perfect taco salad: Lettuce, ground beef, salsa, cheese, guac, dressing.

Have you ever lived with friends or a roommate? Just my husband.

Who in your family has a birthday in March? My cousin Kelly.

What kind of pasta do you like? Yes.

Do you know how to play volleyball? I've never tried.

How much decorating do you do around the holidays? I like to deck out my dad’s house since he has the Christmas Eve party every year.

Have you ever been on a cruise? Yeah when I was little.

At what age did you learn how to tie your shoes? I was around 5 I think.

Oreos or chocolate chip cookies? Both.

What did you dress up for Halloween as a child? I can’t remember EVERY costume but I was definitely your basic ghost, witch, vampire, black cat array.

Can you count to ten in Spanish? Yeah.

Name a character from your favorite TV show: Princess Carolyn.

Do you like going to arcades? Sure.

What was the last personal care item you bought from the store? Deodorant.

Airplanes or helicopters? Planes.

Have you ever been camping for more than a week? Not more than a week, no.

What kind of meat do you like the most? Seafood.

Do you actually stop and pet dogs you actually see? No. Unless the dog seems interested in me, I will then ask the owner if I can pet them.

Have you ever been in an ambulance? Nope.

What’s the craziest thing you’ve found at a hotel before? I don’t know.

How far is the closest Target? There’s one a few blocks from us now.

Snakes or spiders? Spiders.

What’s your Panera Bread order? I rarely go.

Do you have any cool keychains? Sure.

How old is your oldest living grandparent? --

Do you watch movies? Sure.

Who in your family has a birthday in April? My dad and two of my cousins.

Have you ever had your nails done professionally? Yup.

What color Christmas tree do you use? Green.

What’s your go to dipping sauces? Definitely depends on what I am dipping.

Do you know how to properly pack a U-Haul truck? Sure?

What was your least favorite math? All of it.

Have you ever been published in a magazine? Not that I know of.

What color is your snow gloves? Black.

How old were you when you last went to the dentist? Oops it’s been a bit.

Do you own a printer? Nope.

What’s your Applebees order? I've been to Applebee’s like maybe 3 times.

Do you bring home seashells from the beach? Sometimes.

What kind of video games do you play? I don’t really play video games. Sometimes Wii Bowing and Super Smash Bros but not much else.

Is anyone in your family in law enforcement? I don’t think so.

How long ago was the last funeral you attended? At the beginning of June.

What color is the blanket on your bed? Navy blue.

Where did you get your name from? A movie my mom liked.

Do you wear lipstick? Sometimes.

What’s a fruit you dislike? Raspberries.

What kind of donuts do you like? Jelly filled or Boston cream.

Do you know how to braid hair? Yes, but only basic braids.

What’s one accessory you wear? I have a permanent bracelet on my left wrist.

How many hoodies/jackets do you own? A good handful.

What was the last name of the road you lived on? Not sharing that as I still frequent that house.

What brand of chocolate do you prefer? I’m not picky.

Nike or Adidas? Adidas.

What will your future wedding colors be? I wore a sapphire blue dress.

Do you have a phone mount in your car? Yeah.

Make the perfect omelet: Mushrooms, spinach, feta, cheddar.

[floorsblvd]

Choosing The Best Flooring in Plano, Texas

The knowledge of the locals is important when selecting flooring in Plano, Texas. Many of the local flooring businesses have years of experience working with various types of flooring and can guide you in choosing the best choice for your house or place of business. In order to guarantee that your new floors look great and function perfectly for years to come, they can also offer professional installation services. For more information, visit our website.

[paintingtips2024]

The Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Right Floor Coating in Allen

When it comes to maintaining the aesthetic and functional quality of your floors in Allen, choosing the right floor coating is paramount. Whether you're a homeowner looking to enhance the look of your garage or a business owner aiming to provide a safe, durable surface for high traffic areas, selecting the appropriate floor coating can make all the difference. In this ultimate guide, we will walk you through everything you need to know to make an informed decision, with insights from Expert Floor Painting and Coating in Allen.

Understanding Floor Coatings Floor coatings are protective layers applied to surfaces to improve durability, appearance, and longevity. They come in various types, each with specific properties suited for different environments and purposes. The main types include epoxy, polyurethane, polyaspartic, and acrylic coatings. Understanding the strengths and weaknesses of each will help you determine the best option for your needs.

Types of Floor Coatings

Epoxy Coatings

Durability: Highly durable and resistant to chemicals and abrasions. Application: Ideal for garages, warehouses, and industrial spaces. Appearance: Offers a glossy finish and can be customized with various colors and patterns. Expert Insight: According to Expert Floor Painting and Coating in Allen, epoxy coatings are a top choice for heavy-duty applications due to their robust performance and longevity.

Polyurethane Coatings

Flexibility: More flexible than epoxy, making it less prone to cracking. UV Resistance: Better resistance to UV rays, suitable for areas exposed to sunlight. Application: Commonly used in outdoor areas, parking decks, and commercial spaces. Expert Insight: This type of coating is recommended for surfaces that experience temperature fluctuations and direct sunlight.

Polyaspartic Coatings

Cure Time: Fast curing time, allowing for quicker project completion. Durability: High resistance to abrasions and chemical spills. Application: Suitable for both residential and commercial floors, including garages and retail spaces. Expert Insight: Expert Floor Painting and Coating in Allen highlights polyaspartic coatings for their efficiency and durability, particularly in high-traffic areas.

Acrylic Coatings

Cost-Effective: Generally more affordable compared to other coatings. Aesthetic Appeal: Provides a shiny finish and enhances the floor's appearance. Application: Best for light to moderate traffic areas, such as basements and residential spaces. Expert Insight: While not as durable as epoxy or polyurethane, acrylic coatings are favored for their affordability and aesthetic enhancement. Factors to Consider When Choosing a Floor Coating

Purpose of the Space

Identify whether the area will experience heavy foot traffic, chemical spills, or exposure to sunlight. Different coatings offer varied levels of protection tailored to specific needs.

Budget

Consider the overall cost, including installation and maintenance. While some coatings might have a higher upfront cost, their longevity and durability can offer better value in the long run.

Aesthetic Preferences

Floor coatings can be customized in terms of color, texture, and finish. Determine what look you aim to achieve, whether it's a high-gloss finish for a showroom or a matte finish for a more subdued appearance.

Maintenance Requirements

Evaluate the maintenance needs of each coating type. Some may require more frequent upkeep than others to maintain their appearance and functionality.

Expert Installation

The quality of the installation can significantly impact the performance of the floor coating. Expert Floor Painting and Coating in Allen recommends hiring professionals to ensure proper application and longevity of the coating.

Why Choose Expert Floor Painting and Coating in Allen

Choosing the right floor coating is only half the battle; the quality of the application plays a crucial role in the performance and longevity of your floors. Expert Floor Painting and Coating in Allen provides top-notch services with a commitment to excellence. Their team of professionals ensures precise application, using the best materials suited for your specific needs. With years of experience and a reputation for quality, they are the go-to experts for floor coating solutions in Allen.

Conclusion Selecting the right floor coating in Allen requires a thorough understanding of the different types available, their properties, and the specific needs of your space. Whether you opt for the robustness of epoxy, the flexibility of polyurethane, the quick curing polyaspartic, or the cost-effective acrylic, ensuring professional installation is key to maximizing the benefits of your chosen coating. Trust Expert Floor Painting and Coating in Allen to provide expert advice and superior service for all your floor coating needs, ensuring durable, attractive, and functional floors for years to come.

[forensicated]

Smiffina Episodes: Deadly Intent

"Who's Macca?" "Everybody knows Macca!" Smithy tuts to Nate, who has been at the station all of two eps! "Only his mum calls him Eamonn." * Smithy smirks as Macca asks Nate to call him Macca. (*reminds me of someone else who left a voicemail for his mum on Killer In The Run 😉 *Cough* Dale! )

Smithy has been called to a disturbance at the youth club on the Jasmine Allen Estate. A girl from the club sold tickets for a non-existent raffle (bad print rejects from a raffle the year before) and when Mr Chadhar turned up for the draw he found the club closed and he's not very happy. Smithy dismisses the kids who were gathered around the argument and tries to help explain to Mr Chadhar that Macca - the man who runs the youth club - knows nothing about it, but he and Smithy will get to the bottom of it. They get him to accompany them on a drive around the estate to see if they can spot her.

Two guesses who it is...!

Hello again, Carly! Carly does a runner before they can speak to her, so they run Mr Chadhar home and then return to give Carly a home visit. Sods law she lives right on the top floor of the block and the lifts are not working!

Smithy tells Nate that Carly is bright and has potential. Nate chuckles. "Potential to move onto more serious crimes." "What happened to 'innocent before proven guilty?' After all that, Carly isn't home but her mother, Leanne Samuels arrives just after them. She's managed to make it up the stairs with a pushchair containing a 1 year old and her shopping and isn't out of breath unlike the two police officers 🤣. Smithy is surprised to learn that Brooke is Carly's daughter. He's also surprised to be handed her. "She likes men!" whilst Leanne answers the phone. Smithy definitely does not have a lot of experience with babies, much to Nate's amusement! 😂😂😂

Brooke does settle in his arms rather quickly to be fair! Carly returns home and the two officers corner her and ask her about the raffle. She's caught redhanded and Smithy is obviously disappointed in her. She insists the money was for her mum to get stuff for Brooke but she's already been shopping and the clothes and make up are definitely not for a 1 year old. Smithy and Nate have to take them - and Brooke - down to the station.

Leanne reasons with Smithy, telling him she has enough on her plate without Social Services getting involved. She trying to get Carly to grow up, but Smithy tells her he can't caution her as Mr Chadhar wants to take it further. He'll see if he can reason with him. Smithy gets Carly into a room with Mr Chadhar and Macca and returns the money and the tickets. She tells them she's very sorry for what she's done and will return the make up and clothes and donate the cash to the youth center. Macca agrees and she's banned from the club for one month as a punishment.

Smithy gives Carly an almost paternal telling off, warning her that she's at risk of Brooke going into care. He appears to have hit a nerve as Carly instantly jumps to the defensive and snaps back at him. Smithy's further disappointed and leads her straight back to Custody for a caution. He also tells Leanne that it is Carly's last chance - no more leniency if she gets called in again.

[a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives]

Scrublands: Award-winning ‘ripping page-turner’ becomes the latest crime thriller shot in Victoria

The adaptation of the novel Scrublands into a crime series is the second Stan original after Bali 2002. Photo: Stan

Ever since award-winning Australian crime writer Chris Hammer published his 2018 thriller Scrublands, television networks and production studios worked furiously to get their hands on the rights to bring the story to life.

Canberra-based Hammer, a former political journalist with just two non-fiction books under his belt, couldn’t believe it when he landed a book deal with Allen & Unwin to publish his debut fiction novel.

Shortly after, he sold the international and TV rights.

“I was laughing and crying, it was just unbelievable,” he told The Guardian at the time.

Fast forward to 2023, and Scrublands – an Easy Tiger production co-commissioned by Australian streamer Stan and the Nine Network, in association with VicScreen – is now filming across Victoria.

Easy Tiger founder Ian Collie and its chief executive Rob Gibson issued a joint statement, saying: “From the moment we opened Chris Hammer’s ripping page-turner, we knew Scrublands was destined to be a must-watch crime series”.

“[It] will be an unmissable TV event for rusted-on Chris Hammer fans and everyone else alike.”

Hammer, too, can’t wait to see it, telling his 2000 Instagram followers he’s thrilled with the cast, the director and just about anyone involved in the series.

“Can’t wait,” he wrote on Tuesday.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Chris Hammer (@thehammernow)

What’s it about?

Scrublands was an instant bestseller in 2018, topping the Australian fiction charts and shortlisted for Best Debut Fiction at the Indie Book Awards.

It was also shortlisted for Best General Fiction at the Australian Book Industry Awards and won the UK Crime Writers’ Association John Creasey Debut Dagger Award.

The story is set against the backdrop of the New South Wales Riverina, in an isolated country town called Riversend, where a charismatic and dedicated young priest (Jay Ryan) calmly opens fire on his congregation, killing five parishioners.

One year later, Hammer’s main character, investigative journalist Martin Scarsden (Luke Arnold) arrives in town to write what should be a simple feature story on the anniversary of the tragedy.

“But when Martin’s instincts kick in and he digs beneath the surface, the previously accepted narrative begins to fall apart and he finds himself in a life-and-death race to uncover the truth,” according to the Stan synopsis.

Turns out there’s a love triangle, fraud, organised crime and cover-ups, all sub-plots worthy of a series.

Prepare to be ‘dazzled’

Although we’re yet to discover how the novel has been adapted to the television series by scriptwriters Felicity Packard (lead writer, and she’s penned Ep 1), Kelsey Munro and Jock Serong, one book reviewer said it was a first-rate crime mystery who was “dazzled” by Hammer throughout the book.

“There is a sense of imminence to Scrublands, particularly in its recognition of drought and the plight of small towns,” Amanda Barrett wrote.

“This one sure bowled me over right from the hooking premise and opening sequence.

“Scrublands will floor you.

Although it’s a work of fiction, she said “there is so much truth to Hammer’s writing and his depiction of the events that take place in Riversend”.

“This is a fastidious novel that works to build a complete picture of what is happening across many country towns, across all states and territories in Australia.

“Riversend is simply a euphemism for so many rural locales in Australia that are grappling with the impact of drought, a decline in services and a rise in crime.”

As a result, she said, the book came across as an authentic tale, tapping into issues that strike at the heart of rural townships.

Hard work starts for the cast at the table readings. Photo: Stan

Table readings of the adaptation with the lead cast of Arnold (Black Sails, Never Tear Us Apart: The Untold Story of INXS), Bella Heathcote (C*A*U*G*H*T, Relic, Pieces of Her) and Jay Ryan (It: Chapter Two, Top of the Lake) have been completed as cast hit the road to various locations across the state.

Nine’s director of television Michael Healy says “joining forces with the teams at Stan and Easy Tiger on Scrublands has realised an ambition we have had since Chris Hammer’s novel was published in 2018″.

He says they’re confident it will turn into must-watch television, suitable for a global audience.

VicScreen boss Caroline Pitcher reveals more than 500 Victorians will be employed throughout the series, “adding to the state’s pipeline of local productions”.

Scrublands is the second co-commissioned production between Nine and Stan following Bali 2002.

Source: The New Daily

[angelofrainfrogs]

Spend the Night: Ch. 3

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: The familiar melody of Grandfather’s Clock chimes through the echoing halls of the Pizzaplex…

Charlie wakes up in her Puppet’s vessel yet again with one goal in mind: to stop William Afton’s reign of terror for good. She enlists the help of Glamrock Freddy, the emphatic leader of the newest iteration of the Fazbear Band. But there seems to be more to this bear than meets the eye—and the same goes for the mysteriously familiar kid the duo find tinkering with animatronics down in Parts & Service.

With some help from friends new and old, Charlie’s journey into the bowels of the Pizzaplex will unravel mysteries none of them ever expected. 

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

Lights on

Keep them up or I’m gone…

Stay where I can see you

And be where I can reach you

Escape the trouble you’re into

Keep the lights bright, kid, or you will be through

~Lights On by Kyle Allen Music~

Freddy didn't hesitate, instantly hoisting Gregory into his arms and running as fast as he could, moving purely on the instinct to get the child to safety. He only started to process what he'd just seen after he started running, clutching Gregory close as he heard Chica move after them. Her loud footsteps trailed behind, which only made Freddy go faster.

She'd been perfectly fine until Gregory showed his face. Even if she registered him as an “intruder,” she shouldn't have started chasing him... It almost seemed like her programming reset at the sight of the child.

Freddy couldn’t deny it any longer: there was definitely some sort of glitch or bug infecting all of his bandmates.

However, the bear wasn’t able dwell on this too much, needing to get Gregory to safety immediately. He spared a thought for Charlie as well, hoping she was alright—though she clearly wasn't the focus of Chica's attention.

Charlie had been trailing them, trying to distract the chicken to no avail. It was when Freddy and Gregory almost reached the rockstar’s room that she made a last-ditch move, sticking out a gangly leg to trip their pursuer. Chica let out a scared squawk before hitting the ground, causing a metallic scrapping noise as she slid across the linoleum floors. Crawling over Chica’s momentarily incapacitated body, Puppet muttered an apology as she attempted to catch up to the boys.

Gregory had shrieked once, then shut his eyes as Freddy scooped him into his arms and sped away. “Don’t let her eat me!”

Freddy simply held Gregory as tight as he could without unintentionally cutting off his air flow. He winced as he heard Chica's distress and the metallic scraping, but did his best to ignore it. Soon they all made it into his room and he slammed the door shut behind Charlie.

“Close the curtains!” Freddy hissed, moving Gregory to the far corner by the arcade machine. He could see Chica coming towards them again, but he had a theory. “She went haywire when she saw Gregory—maybe if we cut him off from view she will calm down, or at least lose interest for the time being!”

Charlie was huffing, as if running had actually tired her out. She did as instructed, drawing the heavy red curtains shut save for a tiny sliver that she peered one eye through. Morbid curiosity prompted Gregory’s attempt to look out as well, but his vision was successfully blocked by both Freddy and the drapes.

Outside, the now-limping Chica grew more and more confused. Why… was she in the middle of Rockstar Row? Wasn’t she just talking with Freddy and Charlie in her room? And why was she hurt, too? Internal processing relayed to her that she has minor dents in her hip joint now, preventing her leg from stretching out smoothly as she walked.

“What the heck…?” she could be heard muttering, rubbing the sore spot briefly before deciding it best to walk back to her room.

“Freddy! All your friends are psycho!” Gregory accused as he was finally set down, plopping onto the orange couch.

“I am so sorry, Gregory,” the bear apologized, kneeling down and conducting a health scan of the boy. Thankfully there were no new injuries from their brief scare, only an elevated heart rate that was already slowing to a normal pace. “My friends are not themselves—I promise you that they would never do this under normal circumstances. As Charlie said earlier, they are just... sick.” He glanced at the Puppet, giving her a grateful smile before looking back to Gregory.

“But we still have one friend on our side!” He patted the lithe animatronic's shoulder as she came over to join them. “Thank you for your help, Charlie. Chica was faster than I expected...”

Charlie was surprised at the gentleness of Freddy’s pat. The genuine praise almost made the short scare worth it, along with the good health of the child under their care. When Charlie saw the look of upset still lingering on Gregory’s face—distrust, even—she assured him: “I was never updated with the new operating system. If this is a glitch, it’d never affect me.”

While she spoke, she comfortably leaned against Freddy’s side. It was nice to have friends again, even if one of them was still wary of her. After a moment of tense staring Gregory visibly deflated, convinced enough by Charlie’s and Freddy’s testimonies of their good intentions.

“What am I gonna do now? I can’t stay here—Vanessa’s gonna end up finding me,” he pointed out glumly.

“We are still getting you to a security office,” Freddy said, shifting so Charlie’s embrace was more secure. He didn’t mind her hanging off him at all—in a vague way, it almost reminded Freddy of a kid who’d found their favorite animatronic and just wanted to be close to them. Not that he assumed he was Charlie’s favorite, but it was nice to know that she was still comfortable with him despite how the other Glamrocks were acting.

“We need to go the Daycare and get that security badge,” Freddy continued. “I do not know what level clearance it will give us, but it will allow access to at least one office. They are designed to lock from the inside and be impenetrable to animatronics, so we will be safe in there.”

Unless the power goes out…

The random thought only crossed Freddy’s mind for a second, but it was enough to give him pause. He glanced down at Gregory, but his only urge was to protect. It was just a wayward concern; he was fine.

“So the plan is—” Charlie started, pulling away from Freddy as she slunk a protective arm around the kid now. “—we’re going to bring you to the Daycare, then we’ll find that pass!” She tried to promote the idea as if it were a piece of cake, despite the horrible way things had been going tonight.

Gregory eased into the notion of the more hands-on Puppet, no longer fidgeting at her embrace. He wondered briefly if robots could be touch-starved, but quickly banished the thought with a hesitantly optimistic look. “Y-Yeah! This should be easy with you guys here.”

“As easy as pizza-pie!” Freddy agreed, willing this to be true. “The only animatronic we have to be wary of is the Daycare attendant, although he is equipped with much more stringent child safely protocols than the others since he watches over babies and toddlers.” He gave the pair a reassuring smile. “I doubt he will be as easily affected by a virus, but we will keep Gregory close all the same.”

Freddy peered out the curtains, looking around intently. He was about to proclaim that the coast was clear when he caught a flash of white fabric, then a shining light. His eyes widened as he saw none other than Vanessa coming down the hallway, heading right for his room. The light caught Charlie’s attention and she joined him at the window, looking through the darkness and committing the night guard’s face to memory.

A rapid search through Puppet’s old criminal databanks to see if Vanessa matched anyone pulled up… nothing. Vanessa was clean. Maybe there was a chance that she hadn’t been behind this system glitch—could she truly just be doing a security guard’s job for once and actually trying to help a lost child?

Unfortunately, they didn’t have time to find out. Quickly pulling the curtains closed, Freddy ushered the others towards the back storage area.

“Vanessa is coming; hide in the back and do not make a sound!” Freddy instructed. “I will send her away as quickly as I can.”

With alarming speed, Charlie dragged Gregory through the door and into a storage locker. Her plush innards protected and kept him still, while also reducing the noise inside the locker—a good thing, since Gregory instantly started to protest to the man—er, robot-handling.

“Hey!” he yelped, unsure how he felt about being so immobilized.

Charlie simply fixed her hand over his mouth, squeezing him with gentle reassurance. “Shh.”

“Hello, Officer Vanessa!” Freddy said cheerfully as the guard stomped into his room without so much as a greeting. “To what do I owe the pleasure—?”

“Shut it, Freddy,” Vanessa snapped, poking her head into the storage area and scanning the room with her flashlight. Her gaze roamed over the boxes, extra merchandise, and lockers, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. With an annoyed click of her tongue, she backed out and faced the bear directly, placing one hand on her hip as she turned the flashlight on him accusingly. “You see a kid around here? Small, brown hair, blue shirt?”

“Ah—no, I am sorry.” Freddy shook his head, the amiable smile still plastered on his face. Despite his earlier claims of the animatronics' strict truth-telling protocols, he found it surprisingly easy to lie to the guard. “I have been in my room all night, as per staff instructions.”

“Ugh, great.” Vanessa rolled her eyes, already heading for the door. She certainly seemed like she was on a mission tonight. “Well, that kid is loose after hours… so if you see him come by, grab him and bring him to me, okay? The communication channels are down. Oh—” She whirled around, her hand on the door. “—but don’t wander around outside of Rockstar Row; you’re still on lockdown after that fiasco on stage earlier. Got it?”

“Understood.” Freddy nodded. The guard stared at him with narrowed eyes for a moment longer, then turned and rushed out to continue her search.

It was a few seconds after the door slammed shut before Puppet decided to open the locker. Gregory sat in her lap, folded cross-legged as he murmured curses aimed at the night guard.

“Language, Gregory,” Charlie reminded him, helping the boy to his feet before slinking out of the tight space. “Though I can’t say I blame you—Vanessa was awfully mean to you, Freddy…”

Charlie was aware that Freddy was just an AI. However, despite how simulated his feelings were, at some point they crossed a line and it was clear by the tilt of his eyebrows that people being unkind seemed to cause the big guy general discomfort.

“Yeah, ‘cause she’s a bad lady!” Gregory attempted to convince them both.

“She is certainly a bit more abrasive than usual tonight,” Freddy conceded. He ran another soothing paw over Gregory’s head, hoping to calm the boy down somewhat. He’d caught the tail end of his tirade of curses and wondered where in the world he’d learned such things… but that was a topic to address later. “But Vanessa is not bad; she simply wants to return you to your parents, Gregory.”

Even Freddy didn’t sound totally convinced by his own words. He met Charlie’s gaze, and though her expression was unreadable he could feel her mutual suspicion towards the night guard.

“I will keep your presence under wraps, though,” Freddy reassured, holding out his hand for Gregory to take again. “Hopefully once she sees what is happening with the other animatronics, she will be more inclined to help them first and pause her search for you.” With luck, Vanessa would notice the rampaging and rule-breaking robots and shift her focus to curbing their destruction.

Gregory felt conflicted. He didn’t want to argue with Freddy or the Puppet, his only friends in the Pizzaplex. But something about Vanessa just rubbed him the wrong way…

Charlie left their sides momentarily as she peeked into the hall. No sign of Vanessa or the Glamrock crew. Turning her head 180 degrees, she looked back at her companions and pointed to the exit.

“Good news; she’s already gone! Let’s hoof it to the Daycare before any of them see us,” Charlie suggested, shuffling back towards Gregory.

Better news would’ve been hearing that all the locked doors were suddenly broken, Gregory thought. But he perked up at their eagerness to assist. “Thanks for helping me, you guys. I don’t think my idea on reprogramming that dumb Map Bot would’ve done all that much…”

Those bots couldn’t think or act as swiftly as the Puppet or Freddy anyway. Gregory would’ve just been toting along dead weight.

“Yes… I applaud your resourcefulness, superstar, but how about you leave any mechanical repairs to Charlie and I from now on?” Freddy said, though by his tone it clearly wasn’t a question. He gave Gregory’s hand a reassuring squeeze and opened the door, stepping out into the hallway. “Alright, stay close by me, you two.”

He hurried out, Gregory in tow beside him and Charlie keeping watch as she’d done before. They made a beeline for the Daycare and thankfully made it without encountering anymore wayward animatronics or night guards. Freddy pressed a hand against a key pad, which caused the first of two large garage-style doors to open. As they neared the drop-off area, they passed a large metal pod with a bright blue lightning bolt emblazoned on the front. Freddy paused, blinking a few times.

“Hmm… my battery is at half charge,” he announced, voice echoing through the open space. “I should be alright until we retrieve the security pass, but I will need to recharge afterwards to be at peak performance; my battery does not sustain itself as well in Safe Mode.”

“Safe Mode, huh?” Charlie thought that would’ve come in handy back in the day. She spared a brief glance back at Freddy, watching as Gregory grasped the bear’s hand tighter out of instinct. “I’d offer to turn it off, but that could be the only reason why you’re not acting weird like the others.”

“No, you are right—it is best to leave my Safe Mode on for now,” Freddy agreed, completely understanding the Puppet’s concern. The last thing he wanted was to become a threat to Gregory as well. He couldn’t live with himself if another kid—

Freddy blinked again. If another kid… what?

The thought was lost in an instant. With a shake of his head, Freddy peered through the protective netting surrounding the play area and let out a sigh. Charlie watched as Gregory parted from them to try and sneak behind. His goal was to find the keycard after all.

“Don’t go too far ahead, Gregory,” Charlie felt the need to say, her eye catching movement atop the theatrical balcony towards the ceiling of the rainbow room.

“Oh, Sun closed the door again…,” Freddy murmured, looking around for the attendant. Whatever movement Charlie caught was gone by the time his eyes fell upon the balcony, Sun having not realized there were visitors yet and retreated back to his room. Freddy thought for moment, then offered a suggestion. “Gregory, would you like to take Charlie with you down the slide? That is the quickest way into the play area; the security office pass should be at the desk near the wooden doors. You will probably be able to grab it by the time I am able to get down there myself, since you are both so fast!”

He offered the boy a bright grin. He was hesitant to let Gregory leave his side of course, but with Charlie there to protect him surely he’d be alright for a few minutes. And besides, going down the slide and landing in a ball pit would help Gregory feel like a normal kid again, if only for a moment.

Gregory glanced to the bright plastic tube. Somehow the “Slide into fun!” sign made him uneasy. There probably wasn’t any fun to be had down there—just more robots trying their best to eat his brains. However, Freddy’s confidence in him allowed Gregory to approach the slide tentatively.

“You can count on us, Freddy!” Charlie assured, grasping onto the boy’s waist before flinging them both down. If they were going to be in potential danger, they might as well make their entrance fun!

Gregory gasped, though enjoyed the short ride before landing in the ball pit below. Upon their arrival, Puppet decided to look around. Freddy mentioned a Daycare attendant, and she thought it would be smart to gauge whether or not they would be safe enough to let near Gregory.

“Charlie, let me up!” the kid griped, but was shushed by his companion.

“Just hang tight; I’m scoping it out.” Charlie spoke in a whisper, gently covering Gregory with a few more of the plastic balls around them for good measure.

“But the ball pit smells funny!” he groaned as Charlie swam ahead in the sea of toys.

“Oh ho ho!”

Suddenly, there was a loud yell from the little stage. Summoned by the noise of plastic clinking together, Sun stepped out onto the platform. Before Freddy had a chance to call out on his long way around to the door, the lanky animatronic clasped his hands above his head and dove.

“Hello there!” Sun exclaimed, popping up in the pit directly in front of Charlie. The Daycare attendant was the tallest animatronic in the Pizzaplex they’d encountered so far, though his tendency to jump around and sway made this fact a little hard to tell at first glance. Sun looked Charlie over with a gasp, pressing his hands to the sides of his face—like him, this new animatronic wore a mask with a static expression.

“Oh, a new friend!” Sun cheered, reaching forward and shaking one of Charlie’s hands vigorously. “It’s sooo nice to meet you! I’m Sun! What’s your name?!”

In an almost comical manner, the Puppet’s arm wiggled like a piece of limp spaghetti in Sun’s grip. Eager, and maybe a little too friendly, but Charlie didn’t mind it. She attempted to shake his hand back, but there was no chance she could match his fast-paced rhythm.

“I’m the Puppet!” she laughed, the initial grasp of her face making her laugh. At least there was one other animatronic that looked like her now. “My friends call me Charlie. It’s swell to meet you!”

Maybe there was a chance she could distract the Sun while Gregory found the keycard…

“Is this where you live?” she asked, holding onto the Sun’s hand to keep him focused on her. “I’m new to the Pizzaplex; you should show me around!”

“Mmm-hmm!” Sun nodded, his whole body seeming to move with the gesture. “My room’s up there, but I spend most of my time out here in the play area! Are you going to work in the Daycare—?”

He stopped mid-sentence, catching movement behind Charlie. Someone else was in the ball pit, and they were a lot smaller than any animatronic Sun knew of. Without hesitation the Daycare attendant dropped Charlie’s hand and shifted past her before she could react.

“Well hello, little sunbeam!” he exclaimed, reaching into the colorful plastic to grasp Gregory under the shoulders and hoist him into the air. Unlike previous animatronics, Sun gave no indication that he was distressed by the child’s presence—in fact, this discovery only seemed to make him more excited, and he jumped from foot to foot with Gregory swinging gently in his grasp. “You're sure up late! Are we having a slumber party?!”

Gregory was ready to fight him, little fists balled up as he was scooped from the pit… but he sputtered for a moment at the cheery question. It was both a relief and confusing for Gregory to see the attendant in such a good mood and not attempting to rip his head off.

“Slumber party?” he asked tentatively. Kicking his little legs did no good to sway out of Sun’s grip. Those delicate mechanical hands held him firmly off the ground with no chance of escape.

“Uh… Right, I was going to take him to the security office! Me and Gregory were looking for the access cards. Right, Greg?” Charlie asked, hoping the boy would play along.

“R-Right! Yeah, I’m a lost kid!” Gregory said, putting on his best pair of sad puppy dog eyes.

Another gasp, another concerned little squeeze of Gregory's torso—not aggressive in the slightest, though Sun's grip wasn't going to loosen anytime soon.

“Oh no, oh no!” Sun exclaimed, carrying Gregory out of the ball pit. He began making his way towards the other side of the room, chattering all the while. “Don't worry, we'll get you all sorted and back with your parents in no time! Hmm... Although it's after hours, so you'll probably need to stay with the night guard for a bit.”

Sun paused, tilting his head as he tried to connect to Vanessa. To his surprise, he was unable to do so.

“Huh... the network’s down,” he commented, staring ahead for a moment longer before resuming his walk. “Well, that's okay! We do have an access card for the security office at the desk, although according to the rules neither of us is allowed to go back there! Charlie, you might not know this since you're new, but we have to follow the Daycare rules or we'll get in trouble! There aren't too many, though—but staying away from the security desk is one of them.”

Finally, Sun stopped near a stack of metal cans. “You can just wait here and play with me and Charlie until the night guard stops by on her rounds, okay?! Ooh, we're going to have so much fun!”

They were in a tight spot here. With Freddy most likely waiting outside attempting not to be caught himself and the promise of them surely being in trouble should they go behind the check-in counter, Charlie’s last resort was to pull a fast one on the friendly Sun. Meeting Gregory’s gaze as he peered down from Sun’s arms, she hoped her static, expressionless face would convey the wink she wanted to give him.

“Yeah! Gregory, you gotta show us how high you can stack those cans!” she said, suggesting something that would cause Sun to put him down.

“Seriously?” Gregory wanted to scoff. He was twelve, and this place was obviously for babies. For a second, he’d been sure the Puppet was serious. Though as she tugged on Sun’s pants, beckoning him astray, he got the picture.

“Oh… Ooohh, totally! I’ll build the biggest tower you’ve ever seen!” Gregory promised, turning his toothy smile on the tall animatronic.

“Come on, Mr. Sun! You gotta show me around the most spectacular attraction at the Pizzaplex!” Charlie’s words held some forced excitement, just wanting to get this over with—even if she did gravitate towards this area more than the rest of the attractions.

“Oh, um... okay!” Sun agreed, somewhat reluctantly setting Gregory down and letting Charlie tug him forward. His first instinct would always be to watch after the children in his Daycare, although seeing as how there was only one kid right now and he was clearly older than those Sun usually took care of—and therefore, more independent—he was okay showing Charlie around while keeping an eye on the boy.

“Wait, wait—there's just two more rules I have to tell you before you can play, little sunbeam!” Sun insisted, stopping in his tracks and causing Charlie to pause as well. “One: if you make a mess, please clean up after yourself! And two...” He seemed to freeze for just a second, head tilting ever-so-slightly off-kilter. It was a barely noticeable gesture, but it was definitely there. “...Keep the lights on.”

Another pause, then Sun returned to his usual demeanor, hopping excitedly. “As long as you follow those instructions, we're all going to be best friends!”

Gregory flinched at the sudden turn of Sun’s head, the sight only adding to the ominous rule. Okay, he’d definitely keep the lights on if he could help it. The thought of being swathed in darkness only reminded him of his brief brush with death at Monty’s claws…

“You got it, Sun!” Gregory assured as Puppet glanced around the huge dome-like structure of the play area.

Alright, her mind was made up. If Charlie’s fate was to remain in the Pizzaplex, she’d definitely love to stay here, slithering through the ball pits and resting inside the padded, foam and metal castle structures.

As Gregory was finally released and hurried off to play—or rather, look for his opportunity to slip behind the counter unnoticed—Charlie decided to ask Sun some questions.

“…You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?” she inquired, concern in her voice as she squeezed the tall animatronic’s hand.

“Oh no, no!” Sun let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. “I'm perfectly fine with the dark—it wouldn't be good if I was afraid of naptime! It's just...” He trailed off for a moment, gazing upwards. It was hard to tell in the brightly-lit Daycare, but the ceiling was littered with glow stars that were one of the few sources of illumination when the room went dark. “When the lights go off, my safety protocols are amped up due to the children being asleep and extra-vulnerable. It's... basically like I have another mode, so to speak. Since I'm Sun, everyone calls him Moon!”

He gave another chuckle, though this was one noticeably quieter. “Moon can be a little much after hours though, which is why they keep the lights on nowadays.”

Though Sun couldn't fully recall what happened when he was in that state, he'd been lectured multiple times on being overzealous in thinking Moon saw “intruders.” Due to this, he'd ended up scaring away quite a few night guards before Vanessa got promoted.

Sun soon perked up, not wanting to worry Charlie with such vague concerns. “Oh, Moon wouldn't do anything bad though—it's just that some of the kids tend to be afraid of him, and I wouldn't want Gregory to be one of them!”

Charlie touched under the chin of her mask as she reflected on his words. “How considerate. Thanks, Sun.”

She appreciated that he was as easy-going as Freddy. With a hardy squeeze of his palm, Charlie laughed in remembrance. “I had a sleep mode as well. It’s sort of broken now, but the music box inside still works!”

She turned, showing off the turnkey that jutted from between what would’ve been shoulder blades. While she had Sun’s attention, Charlie figured she might as well attempt to slowly convince him that things weren’t going so well outside the Daycare. Heck, maybe he could provide some help in figuring all this out!

“Gregory told me earlier the other animatronics have been scaring him. Did you happen to see the bandages on the kid’s face?” she pointed out quietly. “He got those from running away…”

“What?!” Sun exclaimed, standing up after examining the Puppet's key with interest. If his expression could change, his eyes would be wide with shock. “I saw Gregory was hurt, but all his injuries were either healing or patched up so my first-aid protocol didn't kick in... But that can't be true that the others scared him—they're the sweetest friends ever!” He now had both hands free, which he immediately clasped together in front of his chest. “Is something wrong with them?!”

The reaction was so genuine, Charlie had only been able to muster a nod before consoling him. The poor guy just wanted everyone to play and have fun. He didn’t need this kind of stress, artificial as it may be.

“Freddy and I think they’re just sick right now. It’s good to see you’re okay, Sun… But that’s why we needed the security card!” Charlie glanced around, unable to spy Gregory as she leaned in and whispered to the attendant. “Gregory told me he’s wary of the night guard, too. Honestly, I don’t blame him…”

“Who, Vanessa?” Sun questioned, then shook his head. “She's grumpy, but she's harmless!”

Then he stopped. Charlie's comment about the access card made him think that something was going on that wasn't necessarily supposed to be... Standing to full height, Sun peered around the Daycare until he spotted a tiny figure darting behind the security desk.

“Oh no—hey, new friend!” Sun called, instantly starting towards Gregory. “That area is off-limits! You're gonna get us in trouble!”

“Yeah, Gregory! Be a good boy, gosh!” Charlie chided, watching as an annoyed Gregory was picked up and toted away back towards the jungle gym. She reached over and tussled his soft brown hair as he pouted up to her. What she wanted to say was: Be faster!

Gregory looked like an annoyed cat trying to dead weight and go limp in Sun’s hands, but the robot was far too strong for such a trick.

“I wasn’t doing anything! Honest!” he whined, the explanation falling on deaf ears. It was a clear lie; turns out Gregory wasn’t a great bluffer.

“You have to obey the rules!” Sun scolded, waving a finger in the boy’s face after placing him on the ground. Then he seemed to deflate slightly, gently patting the top of Gregory's head. “I'm not trying to be mean, you know—the rules are just to make sure everyone is safe!”

He spared a glance at Charlie, silently asking for her collaboration. The last thing Sun wanted was for Gregory to be upset with him, too.

Sun had a point. It wasn’t like Charlie was going to argue with the robot. After all, under normal circumstances he’d absolutely be in trouble for letting the kids run amuck! So, Charlie crossed her arms and remarked: “There’s plenty of better places to play, Gregory…”

“Okay! Okay, I won’t go back there…,” Gregory replied, scuffing the padding below his feet with a lazy kick. The moment that Sun turned his back, Charlie crossed her arms in an X formation. She hoped the kid would get her meaning not to try anything for a few more minutes, though it was clear to see that Gregory was growing impatient.

“There's so many things we can do to entertain ourselves!” Sun exclaimed, back to his usual cheery self. “We can draw, finger paint, and drink Fizzy-Faz until our heads explode!” He was slipping into dialogue usually reserved for younger kids, but that's who he was designed to care for, after all. He clapped his hands, bouncing from foot to foot. “Ooh, ooh—do you like glitter glue?!”

While all of this was going on within the play area, Freddy was biding his time just outside the wooden doors. They were locked from the inside, and even with his strength he knew he wouldn't be able to open them. He could hear most of the conversations and no one sounded distressed, so for now Freddy was content to keep watch for Vanessa or any of his bandmates. He just hoped Gregory was able to snatch that security badge soon; being so out in the open was starting to make the bear nervous and was giving him time to dwell on his thoughts... which he really didn't want to do right now.

Inside, the pair played alongside Sun—something Gregory may have warmed up to. But only because the experience was liminal for him. Having these robots entertain him, keeping him safe… It felt nice, even if he wouldn’t ever admit it out loud. They gathered together building towers of cans, laughing when Gregory knocked them down only for Sun to fix up the area by stacking them obsessively again.

“Hey Sun? What was that you said about glitter glue?” Charlie elbowed him softly, as if suggesting he find some. Despite the fun, she hadn’t forgotten their objective to find the access card.

“Right? I mean, you mentioned all that cool arts and crafts stuff! Where’s it at?” Gregory asked, understanding that it was time to try again.

“Oh! It’s over there!” Sun replied, pointing to a corner of the Daycare full of shelves. The glitter glue was up high, far out of reach of any grabby hands. He stood, eager to do whatever Gregory wanted; the boy really seemed to be having fun now!

“Do you want me to get it? We can make some cool projects!” He let out a small gasp as an idea struck him. “Maybe you can make something for your faaaavorite animatronic—that’s what lots of kids do!”

Then he froze, remembering Charlie’s comment. In a gentler voice, Sun added: “If there’s any you do like, that is—if not, you can make something for yourself! That’s okay, too!”

“You’ve definitely met three good friends, right Gregory?” Charlie said, hoping it would help ease Sun’s little slip-up. Not that it was his fault; he was just giving the kid some ideas.

Gregory offered a ghost of a smile. It was tired, definitely, yet so genuine it made Charlie’s heart melt.

“I definitely have! Uh… We’re gonna need some scissors and construction paper, too!” Gregory made sure to call after as Sun bounded towards the supplies.

Once Charlie placed the last can on the top of the pyramid they created together, she turned and watched as Sun stretched up to reach the high shelf. She was about to offer her help, when she heard the soft and cushioned sound of sneakers slapping against the rubber matting below them. Her head turned quickly, shocked at how fast Gregory broke into a dead sprint for the counter. He’d already ducked behind the thing before she could even react.

Suddenly, Charlie had a bad feeling. As she lurched after him, that sinking, twisting feeling inside grew. Its familiar sting reminded her of when she first woke up here—the sheer wrongness deep in her soul.

“Gregory, wait!” she yelled, dropping all pretenses of hiding their actions from Sun. If her gut was right, they might need those security protocols after all…

Sun whirled around at the shout, just in time to see a tiny hand pop out from under the desk and snatch up the security badge. He gave a little sigh of affectionate exasperation, starting to walk to the desk after the Puppet.

“Come on, little sunbeam, we already talked about this—”

His words were suddenly cut off with a choked-off gasp as out of nowhere the Daycare went dark. There was a soft chuckle from the direction of the main garage doors, though no one but Gregory and Charlie seemed to respond to it.

“Hee hee~ Are you having fun yet?” a feminine voice called in a lilting, sing-song tone.

***

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