#where the sun don’t shine

[qupiikaaa]

At first glance(idk how this is possible but for some reason it is now) Chuuya looks sexist like REALLY sexist

like ‘I-beat-women-and-i’m-proud’ type sexist

DW I STILL LOVE HIM THOOOO

[rubydubydoo122]

I’m just gonna say this, the main reason people don’t like Damian Wayne as a character is the same reason people didn’t like Jason Todd back in the 80s

People don’t like either of them because their favorite Robin (Tim Drake and Dick Grayson) got replaced by them.

Damian and Jason are both really interesting and complex character, objectively more complex than both Tim and Dick, but some people (cough, obnoxious Tim fans, cough, and Dick fans who over sexualize him, cough) don’t see that and just want their little blorbos to never grow into their own character apart from Batman.

[rogloptimist]

LAKE MISSOULA x JONAS VINGEGAARD

credits under cut!

lake missoula - richy mitch and the coal miners // jonas vingegaard - team presentation, tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard, tadej pogacar, and remco evenepoel - podium ceremony, tour de france 2024 (belga images) // tadej pogacar and jonas vingegaard - tour de france 2024 // wayward son - rainbow rowell // jonas vingegaard - stage 21, tour de france 2024 // it's down to legs - caley fretz // jonas vingegaard - stage 20, tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard - tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard - stage 11, tour de france 2024 // a poem on hope - wendell berry // jonas vingegaard and remco evenepoel - stage 19, tour de france 2024 // quora user shulamit widawsky // jonas vingegaard - stage 21, tour de france 2024 (getty images) // jonas vingegaard - stage 21, tour de france 2024 post-race interview (flobikes) // 'now the fight is over': jonas vingegaard concedes tour de france battle for yellow, but still aims for second - adam becket // jonas vingegaard - stage 19, tour de france 2024 post-race interview (flobikes) // video: jonas vingegaard and matteo jorgenson consoled after heart-breaking end to stage 19 of 2024 tour de france for team visma | lease a bike - kieran wood // jonas vingegaard - tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard - tour de france 2024 // 'probably the hardest moment of my career'-- jonas vingegaard on his crash and fight to be ready for the tour de france - stephen farrand // jonas vingegaard's tour de france was a venn diagram - iain treloar // rise up and salute the sun: the writings of suzy kassem - suzy kassem // jonas vingegaard - tour de france 2023 // jonas vingegaard - stage 21, tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard - stage 11, tour de france 2024 // vingegaard exhausted after tour de france: may cut season short - sjoerd valkering // jonas vingegaard and tadej pogacar - stage 20, tour de france 2024 (belga images) // the thing is - ellen bass // "if you had told me four months ago that i would be second, i wouldn't have believed you" - jonas vingegaard disappointed but proud of his tour de france - ondrej zhasil // jonas vingegaard and tadej pogacar - stage 11, tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard - stage 11, tour de france 2024 post-race interview (nbc sports) // alfred lord tennyson // jonas vingegaard and tadej pogacar - stage 11, tour de france 2024 // remco evenepoel and jonas vingegaard - stage 21, tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard and tadej pogacar - tour de france 2024 // matteo jorgenson and jonas vingegaard - stage 19, tour de france 2024 // matteo jorgenson and jonas vingegaard - tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard and tadej pogacar - podium ceremony, tour de france 2024 // jonas vingegaard and wout van aert - tour de france 2024 (team visma | lease a bike)

[rawr-jess]

Need I say more….

[nc-vb]

if it’s gotten to the fucking point that the Ministry of Education has to announce that “the school year is cancelled” for part of Gaza because all its students have been murdered, humanity has failed, failed at everything— flat out, point blank, and unequivocally failed.

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

Back again I have another chapter I'm flingin it at you. I'm too tired to really explain much of it but if you have a question you're welcome to shoot me an ask abt it and stuff.

Okay Imma take a nap here wake me up when it's over. @itsberrydreemurstuff and @laegume, saved ya'll a seat in the front row. I'll edit this to put the other chapters in at some other point, but for now...

On with the show!

(Word Count: 1,302)

Moon watched over his charges, running his hands through the hair of the child in his lap. She was a new one, loud, too. She’d burst in with her brother while they were occupied in their room. They’d heard you enter this morning and remained upstairs, both hoping to delay interaction with you and seeing the current task as far more important.

(Said task was to make sure their joints wouldn’t randomly lock up throughout the day. Those had gotten to be a problem as of late, but they weren’t going to tell you that.)

You’d asked about it afterwards. Sun let it be known that their business was their own. Damn company wouldn’t even give them a moment to themselves without sending their rat after them.

Said rat currently sat at the desk, slouched over with their head down. Moon took it upon himself to investigate, silently making his way over and dropping down in front of you, hands slowly reaching for your chair to yank you forward…

Faint snoring.

Moon froze.

That couldn’t be right. You never slept in the Daycare, you never even took a lunch break off. And here you were, apparently tired enough to have gone down for the count like the kids. They’d never seen you so…vulnerable.

A terrible decision on your part, really. 

His hands changed trajectory, instead grabbing your bag and conducting a short ‘inspection’. 

The contents of your bag was different this time. No headphones, no little snacks. You’d brought another book today, and an old one by the looks of it. He flipped through it before dumping it back in. Not terribly interesting.

You’d brought your laptop as well, not an uncommon occurrence. He rummaged deeper for something new, something he could actually punish you for.

Like the bottle of pills he found innocently placed inside one of the pockets. 

That was not what he was expecting.

He examined it, glancing over to you. You? Taking medications?

Focusing back on the curious object in his hand, he quickly scanned his database to identify it.

Hm. Tylenol. Commonly used to treat moderate pain.

Sun butt in with a suggestion. Maybe it’s that person they were calling yesterday?

No, Moon replied. They said they would drop it off that night. And it wasn’t for the children, since Management supplied and refilled the Daycare’s medicinal aid. 

Maybe they’re sick?

Moon rolled his eyes. I’ll check. He scanned you and huffed at the results. You seemed mostly fine, save for a small cold and your visual stress levels. Hardly dire enough to take medicine. How weak humans were.

Dropping the pill bottle back into your bag, he set his eyes back on his original goal and devised the perfect means of torture.

A couple markers and googly eyes later, Moon gazed down at the finished product, snickering quietly. While not the most devious nor mature plot, it would most definitely be a cause for some mild embarrassment. He procured your phone from your pocket and snapped a photo of it, commemorating the moment forever.

Satisfied with his work, Moon took his leave and returned to the children. 

Lights on, Sun out. Playtime resumed as always, though he noticed you weren’t present for it. He looked around before finding you still asleep at the desk. 

Of course. This is why management relied on machines. He never got tired, he performed at maximum capacity 24/7, 365! He could be depended on to get results!

He didn’t fall asleep during a shift.

Sun’s gaze flickered back to you. He supposed he would have to wake you up, since you had made no move to do it yourself. Citing a short excuse to the already-occupied children, he approached the desk, taking notice of your face and stifling his mechanical laughter.

Well.

Moon had certainly been decorative. 

He’d let you find out about that, though; he didn’t want to spoil Moon’s trick.

He carefully reached his hand out to tap you on the shoulder, already having a sharp remark at the tip of his metaphorical tongue. 

He didn’t get the chance to so much as nudge you before you pop your eyes open and rear back, panic flashing across your face momentarily before it was overtaken with relief. Your shoulders dropped slightly, though you kept that tense aura about you, eyes wide and cheeks soon flushed in embarrassment as you processed the situation. You shrunk under his gaze, a tight smile appearing on your otherwise mortified expression. “Ah…Did I…”

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” Sun exclaimed with false cheer. “If you’re quite finished with your little impromptu nap, you have an actual job to get back to!”

Your cheeks burned brighter and you nodded, pointedly not looking at him. “R-right, I’ll get back to work, sorry…” You stood up from the chair, arms pinned tightly at your sides and wrapped around your chest. You kept repeating whispered apologies, shrinking in on yourself until you cut yourself off tersely, “I’m sorry, I…I think I just need a minute.” you said thickly, excusing yourself. 

He blinked. That was new. He was sure if he’d said one word more to you, you likely would’ve shattered beneath him. You looked almost on the verge of tears. Sure, he’d caught glimpses of you when you were worked up, but you always seemed fine 

A cackle in the back of his head snapped him out of his thoughts. 

Quite the reaction that was. They look like they’d break if you so much as looked at them. What did you do to trigger that, eh, Sunny?

I don’t know, Moon, he responded. I don’t know.

Well, whatever it was, it worked. I’ve hardly ever seen them like that before. 

Sun hadn’t either.

Moon perked and paused, an idea forming. Saaay…maybe that’s how we’ll get them.

What do you mean? Nothing works with them-

Maybe not, but maybe we’re not pushing hard enough. Maybe they need more pressure before they crack. We have to hit them where it hurts. 

Sun’s rays retracted an inch, knowing he'd have gone paler if he were human. Moon…

What? Moon countered. You want them gone, just like I do. Nothing else is working. We can’t off them with Management watching us like harpies, and intimidation does nothing. Think about it. If they don’t want to work with us, if it’s too unbearable, they’ll quit. They’re too chicken to file a report about it, they don’t like making a scene.

I suppose…Still, he hesitated, though he didn’t know why. He did want you gone from his Daycare, out of his rays and out of his way. Even so…

The lunar animatronic sighed. Fine, I’ll do it myself. 

And with that, the link shut.

-------------------------------------

You splash your face with water, scrubbing away the remnants of marker scribbles and tear tracks. You rub your red-rimmed eyes and take a shaky breath, trying to will away the fresh tears that threatened to spill.

You were an adult, damn it, you shouldn’t be crying in the bathroom over the words of your robotic jester coworker. It shouldn’t have been such a big deal, anyway. All he told you was to get back to work, it was nothing serious and he had full right to do so. 

Why did you have to overreact over nothing every time this happened?

You calmed down enough to pull yourself together and at least pretend to be normal for a few more hours. You could sob into a pillow at home, but you were at work and it was not the time to act pathetic. 

You berate yourself a little longer before composing yourself once more with a carefully set expression that did not coincide with how you felt at all.

Brave face on, you step back into the Daycare. 

Two hours left…

--------------

Aaaand that's a wrap! Sorry it was a bit short this time, I had to do a lot of editing. I'll prob release chapter 6 a couple days from now cuz I'm lazy.

[doolallymagpie]

petra: men will invent a cosmic theory justifying their fatalism rather than going to therapy and growing up into a goofball nihilist

miles: he does go to therapy

gwen: yeah, twice a week

petra: Give me his therapist’s address. Now.

[laniidae-passerine]

Honestly I think Dean Highbottom has some shit to answer to as well. The mockery, the derision, the outright admittance that he was hoping Coriolanus would fail and the Snow family would continue to suffer. How someone who loathed the Games still treated a young man with cruelty because of the past, because of social divides that would be so easy to tear down. In the end, it wasn’t just Gaul who shaped Snow into the man he became. So bitter and hateful. So incapable of compassion and forgiveness. Just like his father. Just like his Dean.

[deerdiaryys]

who the FUCK needs a sharpie this big

[megandzane]

The audacity to be writing an apology email to Meghan’s husband and not her…while claiming to not be a misogynist

[stromer]

all i’m saying is. if that freak matthew tkachuk even THINKS about touching a single perfect strand of hair on nico hischier …again.. today. if he even looks at that beautiful swiss man. i will have no choice to commit a multitude of crimes against him

[pebblezone]

The Beach Boys Love You (1977) is such a questionable album I mean it’s barely even a Beach Boys album based on who contributes what but she’s so silly to me ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[computationalfluiddynamics]

“just say something”

he’s BEEN SAYING THINGS and people still get it wrong!! he has been saying EVERYTHING since his time in the feeder series and it wasn’t until he made it to F1 that they finally respected his wish to be “zhou guanyu” instead of “guanyu zhou”! (and even then it’s a question of whether he wants to be zhou guanyu or if he just doesn’t want to hear guanyu butchered even more than zhou) he has told people this so many times and it is one fucking syllable that is NOT DIFFICULT TO PRONOUNCE! this is not his fault in anyway whatsoever it is entirely on the rest of the grid and the media and other teams who simply refuse to even try to say his name properly

if you can say verstappen or schumacher or hakkinen or piastri or villeneuve you can say “zhou”

“it’s a nickname from karting!” “if he didn’t like it, he would say something!” i beg you use critical thinking skills just this once

first of all, where do you think the nickname came from if not people mispronouncing what is actually a very easy name to pronounce

second, you expect me to believe that half of the men on the grid who have never spoken to zhou for longer than a minute suddenly know him well enough to use a “nickname” from a time when they wouldn’t have even been in the same series

third, when you are in a field that is so dominated by western culture, both in terms of media and other drivers, it is not always as easy as “just say something”. chances are zhou has said something, given the fact that is was discussed by crofty and martin brundle at the beginning of 2022 and the fact that everyone at his own team says it correctly.

stop making excuses for blatant ignorance and sinophobia

[galaxiadecima]

Here pookie

A full sized snickers for you

you exist to antagonize me don’t you

[doriantomybasil]

i was so concerned that i was gonna miss my train because i had to take the trash down and go to the store (that is in the same building as my apartment btw) so i left earlier than i would’ve and now i’m here at the station 20 minutes before my train is scheduled to arrive in 35 degree weather i’m actively dying this is the worst i want to be on the air conditioned train already

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

Aaaand at last the long awaited chapter 7 that I've been hoarding from yall for a lil while! There's just a little buildup here, so not terribly essential, but I think it was important to write anyway. This sets up the next chapter, so be aware of that...

And as always, I must invite my esteemed guests @itsberrydreemurstuff, @bibooby, @laegume and @andyssilly to the lil slumber party. (If anyone else wants to be tagged just lemme know and I'll put ya in the next one!)

Anyways, on with the show!

Word Count: 3075

The tension from this morning melts away pretty quickly once the kids show up. You’re dragged into a tea party, sipping air from a plastic cup with your knees tucked into your chest to fit you while you gossip to the children about Mr. Teddy Bear’s newest escapade in an overly-posh accent.

That feeling from earlier creeps up on you again, the phantom constrictions in your chest tightening, and you hardly have time to mask your sharp inhale and wince when a hard shock runs up your spine, warning you of what’s to come. The kids seem worried for a moment, but you cover up your reaction with a dramatic tale, urging them to ‘banish’ you to your station to save them from the wretched demon possessing your immune system. It’s not really that type of illness, not the sort they can catch, but you’ve always had a bit of a flair for the dramatic, and your performance does the trick.

You regret not bringing your medicine today, but Sun had warned you not to, and he was effectively the boss. It wasn’t so bad anyway- just a bit of soreness, nothing terribly noteworthy. Worst case scenario, you could take a pill from the Daycare’s little pharmacy cabinet and make it through the day. And maybe call your brother as a last resort, but you refused to bother him unless it was an emergency. For now, you’ll just wait it out. 

Snacktime is announced, and you wheel out the food, standing to the side as your stomach decides to make its hunger known. Did you have breakfast before you left? You don’t know. You didn’t think to pack a lunch (you never do) and your clock-out time wasn’t soon enough for you to placate your hunger. You stare at the contents on the table and remind yourself that it’s not for you, it’s for the kids, and Sun is right there. You return to your work station and attempt to read your book, but the words can’t seem to stay in your head.

By the time the lights go out, the pounding has sharpened, and you’re hardly able to move your legs without some ache in your bones. It’d probably be best if you left the daycare to check yourself over, which you neglect to tell Moon before he even gets his chance to do his little routine. His faceplate tilts to the side with a little click, and you’re out the door before he thinks to say anything. 

—---------------------------------

Moon blinked. That’s…new. They never take a break during naptime. 

The only reply he got from his brother was a subdued hum of agreement. 

—------------------------------

Your slightly unbalanced speed-walking comes to a halt a good 20 paces from the Daycare as you realize you have no idea where you’re going. You’ve never really been through the Pizzaplex aside from heading to your post or to Parts & Service, so you only knew two or three routes in this maze. Well, and the DJ’s arcade, but you only know the directions there from the entrance, not the Daycare. 

Maybe you could find your way from Parts & Service? Last time you’d been, the STAFF bots led the way…

Scratch that. You knew one route.

Lovely. You can’t say that you’re particularly thrilled to do more walking in your state, but you suppose there’s no time like the present to get further adjusted to your workplace. There was a restaurant around here somewhere, right? Even if their only dish was pizza that tasted like cardboard topped with soggy oatmeal, food was food, and it was better than nothing. If you could only figure out how to get there.

The irony of the fact that you have to go find the Map bot and ask it for directions is not lost on you. 

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Luckily, you don’t have to look far. It just so happens that one is conveniently stationed around a corner at some random attraction. You approach it awkwardly and tap it on the shoulder, offering a small, unsure smile. “Hey, I was wondering if you, uh…if you could spare me a map?”

You swear the stoic face of the bot in front of you practically lights up, and you can feel the beaming smile it gives you in spite of its static expression as it shoves a map into your hand with the vigorous and insistent mantra of “Take a map! Please take a map!”

You struggle to suppress the little laugh that bubbles out of you upon seeing its excitement, and you comply with its wishes, shooting it a much more relaxed smile and thanking it before it wheels away to the next set of customers. 

You examine the map eagerly thrust upon you. Apparently there are several dining areas, one for every floor. You don’t have much time to explore, though, so you choose the closest one to you: the FazPad.

After twenty minutes of running around in search of the elusive location, you’re finally able to find and order something from the somewhat overpriced menu with the help of the employee discount. Ordering a Moondrop curry seems fitting considering your position, though you pray Moon doesn’t somehow find out about it. You poke at the bright blue dish that you’re pretty sure is supposed to be edible. It isn’t half as bad as you expected, surprisingly. Shame you couldn’t say the same for its namesake.

Speaking of the lunar menace, you have maybe half an hour before naptime is over, and you refuse to be late. You’d seen them when you were tardy, and it was not pretty. Your mini check up would go pretty quickly, as you were confident it wasn’t anything problematic. 

Another ten minutes is spent trying to find a bathroom (you do not want to go back to use the one in the Daycare while Moon’s still out unless absolutely necessary). You lock yourself in a small stall and lean against the door to look yourself over, fingers gently pressing into your legs and lower back with hesitance. You cringe slightly, lips thinning into a line. You hate when this happens, but it should pass eventually. With any luck, you’d be able to go to work and avoid the worst of it. You’d just have to be a little more mindful of your limits.

This probably wouldn’t end up like last time.

Satisfied with your conclusion, you make your way back to the Daycare. Naptime was still in session and you were anticipating a trick upon your return.

—----------------------

You wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing as you gasp for air, shooting up from the mattress and breathing heavily, your eyes dart around your room, relaxing when you spot the familiar dark silhouettes of your belongings. There’s just enough moonlight from the window for you to make out details. Your hand flies to your chest almost instinctively, as if to verify that your heart’s still pumping, you’re still alive, still here. 

You’re awake now.

Once your initial panic dies down, you become acutely aware of three things. 

The first is that it is very hot, almost unbearably so. Sweat clings to your form as perspiration runs down your forehead. You can hear the AC vents pushing out air, but it doesn’t help cool the burning in your core that spreads through you.

The second thing you notice is that the shirt your hand is clutching tightly is your work uniform. You must’ve blacked out after coming home from work. As usual, you don’t remember that.

The third thing is the feeling of bile rising in your throat, and it swiftly surpasses the first two observations. You stagger to the kitchen sink on numb legs and lean heavily against the kitchen counter, retching violently. You’re still shaking by the time you can manage to lift your head out, forcing yourself to hack and spit the rest out to flush out the remaining fluids choking your throat. You hazard a glance at the sink before washing away the blue chunks. Figures. You’re never having Fazbear’s trademarked trash again.

You navigate back to your room to brush your teeth and rid the foul taste of vomit from your mouth, cranking up the AC on the way to bed. You toss the thin cover aside and adorn your pajamas, waiting for sleep to claim you and take you from this awful feeling. Something nags you in the back of your mind, warning you that it’s only about to get worse before you’re dragged under, in and out of consciousness as the night progresses.

Your alarm blares some time later and you fumble to turn it off. Little shit doesn’t know you’ve been up for the past hour. You bite back a groan. While your stomach had thankfully settled overnight, everything else has hit you full force. 

It’s official. You’re Sick.

Or at least, that’s what the shit feeling leads you to believe.

You make a weak attempt to sit up…only to immediately crash back down again. An involuntary cry of alarm rips from you at that sharp pain that lances through your spine. It’s so much worse than yesterday. You shake your head and force back tears. It usually doesn’t get this bad. It usually just stops at your lower back. 

Still, you have a job to do, and you’re not letting a little thing like this stop you.

Your things are shoved into your bag, work clothes thrown on. You hesitate but decide to bring the pills anyway. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep talking, but Sun yelling at you is nothing compared to this.

You’re out of the apartment before you even remember you forgot to pack a lunch yet again. 

—---------------------------

The attendants can't help but notice that something seems…off…about you.

On the surface level, nothing has changed. You still walk into the room and greet them, still write your reports and go along with Sun’s demands and Moon’s antics. But there are little things that tip them off, like the small limp in your step or the naps you’ve begun taking more often when the lights go out. 

Moon notices your bag has lost some weight. The usual thought and care packed into it is absent. Extra clothes and books are left behind, with only your phone and laptop inside. You’d also taken to bringing those pills. He’d given up on lecturing you about it when all he got was an affirmative that was immediately broken the next day. The lunar AI assured him they were harmless, but it was still off-putting.

Your emails, they noticed, had also become more succinct and to the point. Not that it was a bad thing: you tended to ramble in great detail, even in the simple notes. Lately, though, they found that it was missing something. 

Take your recent Maintenance update, for example. You’d apparently noticed the issues with their joints and filed a request for Parts & Service. You always notified them a day or two in advance prior to an appointment. This time, however, they did not receive your normally well-written email. It remained polite, of course, but it was clipped, curt.

Unexpected.

And it wasn’t just your work suffering, either. Your usual excitement when playing with the children was absent. You were tenser, got tired more easily, frequently taking breaks and hanging back to catch your breath.

No, the change wasn’t too great, but it was there, and it was starting to get a bit out of hand. You’d pretty much been glued to your desk for the last two days. And while you weren’t really required to do much else besides your updates, it still felt…wrong.

It didn’t matter, though, they reasoned. If you weren’t feeling good, you’d take a couple days off and they’d be done with it. They’d have enough leverage in addition to your recent slacking to get rid of you.

They…did still want to get rid of you, Sun reminded himself. You had flaws, flaws that could not exist in their perfect system, flaws that had to be eradicated to maintain order.

It was better for everyone that way.

______________________________________

You rub your eyes, slowly scanning your ID at the clock-in station and fighting back the dark edges in the corner of your vision. You hadn’t been sleeping well as of late, and it was starting to take a toll on you. You didn’t dare to call in sick, however, remembering all too well your coworkers’ reactions when you’d returned from you unexpected time off.

Granted, that was a special case, but they didn’t know that.

It’s not like you knew what had been going on at the time, anyway.

You stroll into the Daycare as usual, bag slung on your shoulder and a slightly less enthusiastic greeting on your lips. Your routine is interrupted when without warning, a dizziness crashes into you and leaves you with spots in your vision. They do not clear this time when you try to force them away. The room spins, and your knees buckle under you, causing you to lurch forward. You brace yourself against the wall and hiss at the sudden burning ache of your muscles. 

As quickly as it came, the feeling withdraws, pulling back fast enough that the dizziness multiplies instead of lessening. Once the room soon stills, you pull yourself back to your feet, sitting down at your desk and getting to work like nothing happened.

Just as well that no one saw.

You’re in the midst of writing another report when your phone goes off. You take a glance around to make sure that Sun isn’t watching and open them. There are three messages waiting for you. One from your brother asking how you’ve been, one mysterious letter from Fazbear, and one from…

Ah.

You skim the last one and dismiss it. The first two are received with greater excitement, something you haven’t felt in a little while. You respond to your brother with your trademarked ‘I’m doing just great let’s talk about something else now’ and read Management’s reply.

Hello, Fazbear Employee, 

We have received your request for funding for greater literary material. After careful consideration, we have decided to approve your proposal. You are required to send a list of materials you wish to purchase. Please remember that any liabilities and/or repercussions faced as a result of this project will result in immediate termination of your contract.

Thank you and have a Faz-errific day!'

Your exhaustion and illness is momentarily forgotten as you squeal and bounce in your seat excitedly. Oh, you already had a dozen titles running through your head that you were certain the kids would love. You’d already compiled a short list a few pages long in your notebook, you’d have to copy it and send it over as soon as possible-

Aaaaand there was that ever so familiar voice piping up in front of you and instantly dashing all your hopes and dreams. “Oh? What’s got you oh-so chipper this morning?”

You swallow down that instinctual feeling of being doused in ice water and manage to maintain your smile. “Management approved my request for buying more books!”

“I’d been under the impression you’d been doing so already..” he remarked dryly.

You ignore his comment, showing him the email and forgetting who you’re ranting to your boss in your excitement about this new opportunity. He takes the device and reads the email himself before responding in an odd voice. “Management didn’t send us an update about this…”

“I just found out myself,” you shrug, not noticing the subtle glare shot at you. “I already had a few titles in mind, but I’d be more than happy to get your opinions on them. The kids are gonna be so excited to get some new stories for naptime, and I’m sure we could-“

“There’s nothing wrong with what we have now for naptime,” he cuts you off, a second, darker undertone layering his voice briefly. His eyes flash red for a split second. 

You blink and hastily amend yourself. “Right, sorry, I just meant that it’ll be nice to have some more variety, that’s all. We could probably find some stuff for you guys, too, if you wanted. I’m sure Moon’s gotten tired of children’s books by now.”

The attendant says nothing for a while, remaining eerily still, and you turn around to see if he’s still there. There have  been some times where they’ve slipped away without you noticing. How they did so was unknown to you considering the many bells hanging from their frame. “Sun?”

The lights cut off abruptly, and the raspier voice returns, drawling sardonically with a hint of mockery. “Awww, you would do that for meee?” He clasps his hands together and flutters his ‘eyelids’ in a show of sarcasm.

“Hi Moon,” you greet him without missing a beat, shutting your laptop and rummaging through your bag for that notebook of yours. You normally brought it, but maybe you’d forgotten it again. You seemed to be doing that a lot lately…

A blue arm shoots out and grabs yours, promoting you to look up at your assailant’s glowering gaze.

“We don’t need your handouts, certainly not from the likes of you,” he hisses, squeezing your wrist tighter for emphasis. 

You manage a nod, swallowing the lump in your throat and lightly tugging at your arm to signal your desire for release. “R-right, of course, sorry, I just thought-“

“We aren’t interested in the thoughts of a mere worker.” His grip does not yield, the silicone masked metal hand like a shackle. You briefly recall Monty’s harsh bruises (time) before. You don’t want another limb to stop functioning right now. That would really suck.

He leans in to speak, privately relishing in the way you try to lean back with an inkling of fear. He grins sharply. “Y-“

A knock at the door startles the two door of you, earning a growl from Moon and a shuddery exhale of relief from you.

He sends you one last loathsome look before the lights flicker on and Sun attends to the new arrival. You release another sigh, rubbing your now sore wrist. Another ache added to the list.

And with that, a new day has officially begun.

As optimistic as you’d like to be, you’re pretty sure you know exactly where it’s going from here.

———————

Aaaaaaaand that’s a wrap! Sorry for the long wait everyone, hope it was worthwhile and I’ll see you all in the next one!