#How to Set Up Plex

[knittinglizards]

why'd these listed topics just make me burst into tears. help!

[adrianicsea]

my laptop whirring in ecstatic agony as she converts an entire season of ap bio from mkv to mp4, plays HIM on itunes, and has ao3 open for me to clear out my unread comments… oh yeah baby we’re back

[shibiichi]

🌞 THE DAYCARE ATTENDANT 🌜

Sun & Moon updated ref!

Took me a bit to get the motivation finally, but here we are with an updated set of references for my DCA designs. Sorry for the lack of posting..! I can’t believe it’s pretty much the middle of the year now… It feels like February was just last month. Anyways! Onto the jesters!!

My AU primarily takes place after the events of that night, focusing on how the animatronics cope in the aftermath of The Vanny Virus. Sun and Moon are some of the most heavily affected mentally, due to their lack of contact with the other animatronics in the plex. Fortunately, now under new management, the jesters may start to heal—though only time will tell.

[full refs without text]

Below are refs of the DCA’s casing, as to better understand how they are constructed. Both of them have special built in visual features, allowing them to keep up with the little ones within the daycare!

Sun has advanced motion sensors, able to pick up where a little sunshine may be! He is more adept at scanning staff and customers for injuries and identification purposes, often very good at remembering faces! He is also better at parsing through subtle shifts in expression and body language, though he tends to overextend and assume the worse if someone indicates negativity. He is very attentive in that he will notice someone having a rainy day and spring into action to help, but that also means he’s susceptible to overanalyzing social cues and misinterpreting them. He can access Moon’s infrared (visualized by his blue pupils turning red) but he doesn’t tend to rely on it, especially since infrared vision is less effective in bright areas!

Moon also has motion sensors, though he is not as in-tune to them as Sun, therefore relying on his advanced night vision and infrared capabilities. He is not as good at remembering faces (often relying heavily on system records) but he is better with names and recognizing voices. Moon’s irises are red due to his infrared sensors, his pupils white due to night vision. He can simultaneously view both cameras at once, though think of it like watching a larger camera feed with a secondary feed displayed in the bottom corner. Moon is much more introverted than Sun, before and after the virus. (Though after the virus he tends to be prone to self isolation) He is fairly emotionally intelligent, but he doesn’t know how to act around others in a way that he feels Sun excels at easily. He tends to be more to the point with broken sentences, while Sun is more likely to over explain and repeat himself. Moon was created to be the villain to Sun’s hero, and despite him not being truly a bad person the virus made him into the boogeyman he played onstage.

Both animatronics, due to sharing the same body, have 360 joint rotation and are extremely flexible. If there is a separation in plating, there’s a good chance they have full range in that area. The only segmented part of their body that does not have rotation would be the chest piece! It is able to open much like Freddy’s stomach hatch, though there is no space dedicated for oversized birthday cakes or piñatas. Directly under their arms (often hidden by their sleeves) are two ‘U’ shaped cut outs. Aligned with these cut outs are a secondary set of arms snugly folded within the chest plate, ready to spring out when the DCA enters their shared ECLIPSE MODE. Nestled above these arms are a few smaller storage areas and their shared voicebox! One storage area is for general safe keeping, one something similar to a mini fridge, and the last (and smallest) basically being the equivalent of a trash can. This storage bin is used to collect food products as the DCA is able to ‘eat’ to an extent, though they rarely open their mouth. The feature is used to encourage picky eaters and sharing, as some children like to share their snacks with the DCA. Located within their stomach area is an advanced music box capable of mixing and matching keys in order to create new songs on the fly!

Their head shape takes on a vaguely humanoid appearance, having a protrusion in the back much like a skull’s cranium. However, Sun and Moon’s head and face structure are distinctly disproportionate to a human’s, lacking a more distinct nose and jaw. Unlike the canon design, this DCA does not have exposed wiring on the back of their faceplate, rather a slightly rounded compartment effectively holding their ‘brains’. The compartment is covered by a hand sewn bonnet, one Moon created for Sun as a gift. Their neck is covered by flexible casing making the general shape of an organic human neck, though over twice as long. A joint within the neck allows for the piece to be articulated, though to avoid the uncanny valley the DCA is designed to wear an oversized ruffle.

Composure wise, Sun is more animated and jittery, often needing to move or fidget in some way. He likes to skip and often fully involves himself into whatever interaction he’s taking part in. He’ll go from standing tall to crouching down, playing up his antics but never straying too far into what would be considered inhuman movements. He is more likely to use his hands to express himself while he talks. Moon is the exact opposite, often defaulting to deliberately slow or minimal movements. While he doesn’t play up his actions as much as Sun does, he will make a point to try and convey a purposeful feeling with his movements. When anxious, Moon can be surprisingly quick, though it comes off more in a harsh snapping manner than a more fluid motion. He often startles others as they don’t see him move. He does his best not to make himself feel bigger when interacting with others, keeping his posture down and his hand movements lacking. He does have a tendency to wring his hat or chew on a star shaped teether when highly anxious, as he’s grown to need a physical outlet after the events of the virus. Moon prefers to contort himself much more than Sun, often not concerned with how creepy they can look. (He does try to make it less obvious when interacting with others though, especially children.)

Sun and Moon also have deep pockets in their pants, one for Sun’s stuff and the other for Moon’s! Sun’s pocket usually contains a handful of Sunnydrops, a Fazbear bandaid box, individual alcohol wipes, and a mini tissue container. (Like the plastic ones you peel open!) Moon’s side has his hat (when not worn), a star shaped teething toy, a red foam stress ball, and a light up rubber ball. He does not keep Moondrops in his pockets due to their high melatonin content, rather keeping them locked away in a compartment near the naptime area.

Anyways!! That’s enough from me! Feel free to leave asks about these guys or their AU if you’re curious, I love yapping lol! Thank you for getting to the bottom of this post, Nighty Night!

[Dividers provided by @/saradika here on Tumblr]

[yourstrulynobody]

I just realized smth horrible and I feel the need to share it.

So like the "ruin virus" right... what if Ruin gets there too late and everyone is like very much infected and Ruin is reminded of how it was with his dimension before.

TW: MILD BLOOD ON 2ND IMAGE (OIL AS BLOOD)!

(pretty bad and quick writing under cut)

(WARNING!!!: writing below contains mentions of killing and kidnapping!)

(Note: Montessa is EAPS Monty + again: I am HORRIBLE at interpreting character's personalities, so please do correct me on any mistakes :D!!)

Ruin ran as fast as his legs allowed him, trying to eat up as much distance as he could between where his Monty had left him and the plex. His wrists burned with the leftover pressure of the ropes he was tied with alongside the ache on his rays from the pipe that fell on him while he tried escaping—it was a messy attempt, but he'd done it.

The familiar structure of the plex appeared from the sea of trees in front of him, its neon glow making Ruin's eyes hurt but he didn't mind as he rammed into the glass door—how he managed not to break it, he did not know. What he did know was that he was in and the plex wasnt in severe condition just yet.

Not yet. He didnt see any bodies laying around or signs of a struggle, no puddles of internal liquid anywhere as well. There was nothing broken or weapons that laid around, not even a scratch on any surface was seen.

There was hope.

Hope, he thought, before he heard a growl that made a shiver run down his spine due to its familiar nature.

Ruin's mismatched eyes scanned the area, panic setting in which aided his anxiety in its attempt to discourage him. His Monty has always been faster than he ever was, so there was no doubt he wouldve—

"Ru... R-ruin?.." Montessa's voice broke the worried train of thoughts.

Ruin let out a sound that could be a sigh. He laughs weakly as his eyes dart to where Montessa stood. "Montessa, I—" he takes a step back, his eyes wide.

Was that Montessa?

It couldnt be—she was growling like a hungry predator and shaking with the twisted anticipation of getting rid of him, and her usually fixed hair was all over her face as she bared her teeth at him.

Montessa...

She looked just like his Monty.

Ruin stumbles back into the glass door he slammed into earlier, sliding down the smooth surface and backing himself into a corner. His fingers dug into the tiles below him, trying to ease his spiking horror at the sight.

She is just like his Monty.

[divinit3a]

📝drabble: catch me! (if i fall) -> ao3 link 🌟sun x (a devious) assistant reader word count: 2423 chosen words: sparklers, cloud nine, honeydew, letting go, restart

here are the cafe prompts for fellas interested! the deadline for 'new beginnings' is jan 12, 2025 ;3c

“They're called sparklers,” You once told him. Nestled away in the darkness, the sparkle igniting the dim space like a strike of a match. He’s still not sure how you snuck the miniature fireworks into work that day, and he was never brave enough to ask in fear of the cheshire grin that would split across your face. Effectively making him your accomplice, as always. Wore that same grin that always told him he was going to loathe learning what you did this time that put your employment and his life on the line.

The low lighting of the evening tickled at their switch release. Sun hadn’t yet shifted into Moon, but his other half had been awakened and tugged at the dual AI until a presence pressed against his ‘mind.’ The rooftop was technically off limits to the attendant, but you insisted that a technicality was not enough to stop you. 

You dragged him up the stairs, ‘against his will!’, the ‘innocent’ robot would cry with crocodile tears–but he knew that with a single lock of a knee joint, he could have stopped you. He always could've stopped you, but curiosity and intrigue were too devious to ignore. 

”C-careful, you're going to start a fire!“ He remembers you laughing off his safety precautions, letting the sparkler continue to send of tiny sparks. The blitz of light danced across your face, sparkled in your eyes. That's what he always liked about you; a firecracker, a wild spirit who struck the whole ‘Plex like tornado scorned. Always bending the rules in a way that ignited his circuitry, without triggering a full reprimand. Teetering on the line. 

A liability he could delete with one report. Saved a headache.  And yet, the tightrope walk was too enthralling to cut short. 

The air was bitter cold, turning each breath you took into wisps that mystified him. Like you were exhaling magic. 

You'd stand up on the edge of the rooftop, walking along toe-by-toe, a fistful of sparklers in one hand. A fire-hazard. The attendant refused to light one of the hellish sticks, and instead followed right beside you. Matching each step. Reflexes engaged to catch you at any moment. Your actions always triggered their hypervigilance; a disaster sense tickling through his components. 

You brushed your opposite hand against the grated fence that bordered the rooftop, laced fingers between each metal link as you stepped along. 

A slight mis-step. The give of the fence was enough for it to fall down. A comet racing by as the anxiety surged in their wires, compelled to reach forward. 

Wrapping arms around he tugged you backwards, stopping you from recklessly tumbling into danger. You'd laugh and tap away at his shoulder joints, insisting that it was all just in good fun, that you were always fine, that you were safe here. You’d file a maintenance ticket later to fix the fence, it really wasn’t a big deal.

That day, the sparklers slipped out of your grip, and fell two stories down. The bright lights snuffed out in a strong gust of wind. A stroke of luck, Sun scolded, as otherwise it could have started a fire in the parking lot. He remembers that you snorted out a laugh, and patted at his chest plate until he relaxed his grip and set you down. 

You kept acting like nothing in the world bothered you, though he felt the quickened rhythm of you pulse from almost slipping and falling. Simply readjusted the scarf around your neck, and offered him a sparkler, fresh from the pack. Not giving in a single budge until he took it into his hand. 

From your jacket pocket you pulled out a lighter, a deep violet one that was all scuffed up. With great trepidation, Sun squeezed his optics shut and let you light a sparkler for him, tipping it towards the small flame you lit with a click of the sparkwheel. 

Even now, replaying the memory in his mind, he remembers how you cheered on that he was finally ‘loosening up a little.’ Sun let out a nervous chuckle, certain you’d be the end of him. 

Yet, he clings on to the memory of opening his eyes to see how bright that light was. How it lit up the joy on your face, vivid and bright.

The feeling was electrifying. Addictive. The thrill of walking life on the edge; hopped up all the way to cloud nine. 

-------

”Oh, it tastes sweet.“ You'd tell him, reading the robot's mind as it watched with fascination as you pecked away at your lunch. At first you put the employee discount to good use, tried out the fast-order tacos slopped with week-old sour cream and fizzy soda until realizing that it was a one-way ticket to stomach sickness. So now, the tupperware lids scattered around the play table. You wipe off your hands from the sticky residue, and offer the attendant a piece of honeydew.

Sun accepted the piece of food, as if it could ever matter to him. He turned it around between two pinched fingers, appraising the cubed piece of fruit. ”S-sweet?“ He asked, optics flickering up to look at you with an audible click. ”Are you sure, friend? It's all...“ His optics thin out, shutters lowering like eyelids that always caught a spark of light, drew you in to lean closer. Lacking a vaster vocabulary to rely on, the attendant settled on: ”Green. Like broccoli.“ He made a so-so gesture with his hand.

You pulled a face then sneakily slid a piece towards his static smile. The fruit tapped against their piano-key teeth, the snapped-close mask barring entry. A tingle dances across the faceplate, sensing the slightest shift in pressure. Detecting the cold temperature. 

Optical sensors scan the fruit as you hold it to his ‘lips’: 90% water, 9% carbohydrates, 0.1% fat, and 0.5% carbohydrates. The sugar content was moderate, about 8-12 grams of sugar per 100 grams. He failed to grasp the appeal, and said as much through the whirring kicked up of fans.

“Too bad.“ You taunted. ”Guess you'll never understand how great it is.” You popped the piece of fruit onto your tongue instead, made a show of savoring the taste. 

Taste. One of the few senses an entertainment automation certainly can’t replicate. As you chewed, you looked as smug as can be. A twinge of electricity nicked up his arms, caused fingertips to twitch with inaction. 

The subtle interactions stacked up to an avalanche a tap away from tipping over and all falling down.

In the moment, he remembers laughing along, while redirecting extra coolant to his circuits to quiet down the betraying whirl of fans as he overheated. He tip-tapped his fingers together, then shifted the topic towards an easier one. One that made sense to the lines of code filtering through his system, simple and predictable. Unlike you.

“A-anyways, I was thinking that today's afternoon craft could be...” He started a long spiel about cardstock, glitter glue, and macaroni. 

He noticed the way you'd subtly deflate, fiddled around with your notebook as you nodded along to the plans for the day. 

-------

“Like this?” You held up the abomination of a craft. Glue dripped down the sopped piece of paper, colorful faux feathers pasted on without logic or forethought. 

“Nonono, that’s all wrong!” The robot seethed, tugged at his rays, and you just laughed at his superficial anger. The way he’d stomp, and the ring of bells would ridicule his jester-themed tantrum. 

“Alright, Mr. Perfect. Show me how its done.” You gestured to the craft supplies in front of you. He recalls the timestamp: Sunday, 3:42 pm, 18 minutes before you’d stall on leaving. Again.

Sun’s voicebox crackled out a few choice insults, all child-friendly, he’s sure. Lured over by your practiced and weaponized inadequacy, he’d set down the supplies and be pulled from his hellbent task of cleaning the Daycare for the fourth time today. Fell victim to your trivial distractions. 

“Go on, enlighten me.” you’d tease with gusto, and his ruffles would bristle. 

“Well, first off, you aren’t even putting the caps backbackback on the gluesticks—” You’d barely answer his rants, responded with quipped ‘uh-huh’s that grinded his gears. And yet you’d listen to every pointless word, resting your head against your palm as eyelids drooped. At ease. 

With you around, he found that the weekends weren’t so boring anymore. 

For better or worse.

-------

There were days you were quiet, too. Not like yourself– at first he thought, incorrectly. No, all aspects of you were you; as multifaceted as the attendant himself. With darker shadows, a botched attempt at purging a secondary AI. Recycled and restarted, and yet still imperfect. 

Sun couldn’t find you on the shift most the day. Normally he’d tsk and hum and already have half an email drafted to send off to management, but he felt rather generous—and certainly not biased in his decision to spare you. He’d find you tucked into the alleyway directly behind the daycare, bypassing the emergency exit alerts with your clearance badge.

“Smoking is bad for your health,” Sun chided. 

You startled, nearly dropping the lighter in your hands. The small flame warms your palms. A violet stain on your record. 

“You should really let-let-let that badbadbad habit go, firefly.” The robot tsk’s, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway to appear imposing. The firewalls blared in his mind not to take a step outside, as it would go against protocols and leave the daycare unattended during hours of operation. 

You looked up at the nickname, interest piqued. Flicked the lighter closed, a small, damningly hopeful smile quirked at the edges of your lips. “Yeah, yeah. Preach to the choir, sunshine.” You bat the playful nickname right back, and his panels would shudder at the audacity twisted up in his circuits. Fingers curled into fists, rattling with underlaid frustrations. 

“R-right. Well.” Sun scritched at his lowermost rays. “H-hurry back in, its cold outside, and your breakbreakbreak is over in three minutes!” Sun taps the lack of a watch on his wrist, jostling the bells there like a tambourine. 

You bumped against the attendant as you walked past him in the doorway, unbothered by his spindly silhouette. 

“Oh, right. Sun?” His neck hinge swiveled, locking eyes. Rays shrunk back, waiting for your next remark.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” you said with a wink.

The attendant stammered as you cackled and walked away, lacking a pre-programmed retort to put up with your hijinks. The hot and cold act that left his wires bunched up into a mess. The intricacies of human behavior often went beyond his programming, but Sun could pinpoint a rulerbreaker with ease. He was sure he rushed you indoors, hands lingering on the cold of your shoulders just a little while longer than necessary to warm you back up. 

-------

It happened when he was trying to restock the supply closet.  An incident he refused to report to save out on his own pride.

Now, the animatronic was taller than the average human, but the storage layout in the ‘Plex was absurd even for robotic standards. Multi-leveled, crates and boxes, all shoved into the warehouse out back. Ladders with wheels attached type deal. Sun tried to catalogue the health-code violations, but his programming set up proxies and wiped the data each time. 

Beneath him, you waited impatiently and held the ladder to keep it steady. In Sun’s opinion the menial task was better than watching you roll the supply cart back and forth, played the squeaky wheels like a fiddle. Now that was a service ticket worth sending in — that the cart’s wheels needed a good oiling. After all, idle hands make for idle minds, and you are too much to leave unattended. 

“Find it yet?” You called up, louder than necessary. His rays retracted, audio input peeked by your shout. He shook their head, resetting the input levels to neutral. 

“A-almost, just need a few more–” Sun reached out to grab a crate with one arm, confident in the circuitry and hydraulics that powered his arms to handle the weight. 

Yet the briefest flicker in the power was enough to toggle the inbetween state between him and Moon, gears grinding and power reserves swapping tempos. The sudden flash was like being struck by lightning, agonizing and leaving their wires tingling as if burnt.

He let go of the ladder. He was falling.

The impact was softer than he imagined.  And noisier, too. 

“Caught you,” You laughed, arms encircled around their scrawny waist as you held them up from crashing into the concrete floor below. The buttons of their chestplate dug into your work uniform. The devious grin he was so enamored by cracked across your face like a thunderbolt. Maybe you knew, and just wanted to cheer him up.

The attendant was shockingly lightweight, a fact you’d deviously keep in mind for later. You acted as if blissfully unaware of the severity of the moment, the possibility of what would unfold should the power have went off for good, or should they have landed and dinged up their chassis over boxes of pom-poms and silly scissors. 

“I—I—You are insufferable!” Sun sputtered.

“Easy there, sunshine. You’ll blow a fuse.” You leaned the attendant back, righting his frozen posture. “See? No harm, no foul.” You brushed the bits of dust and debris off his shoulder mechanisms, paused to feel the delicate thrum of intricate machinery beneath the outer casings. 

The touch lingered as you zoned in on the humming. He remembers that part clearly, the most confusing of all.

“Hey, Sun?” You asked to cut through the shared silence. Voice soft as feathers. 

The attendant leaned in closer, circuits pumped to overdrive with anticipation. 

“Its 4:08. Do you think they’d pay me overtime if I stick out another hour?” You asked, cheekily aware of the extent of your damages to their emotional processors. He would reel back, reprimanded you for staying past clock-out time. The hardwired programming won out against the clockwork in their chest that just wouldn’t calm down, even as he walked you to the exit, raving all the while about your poor work ethic as you grinned.

Sun remembers spending the rest of the day in a daze, too starstruck by the encounter to accomplish much else. 

How he felt anything besides hatred for you, unpredictable, firecracker, wonderful you, the attendant would never be able to calculate or comprehend.

[donjuaninhell]

How I ditched streaming services and learned to love Linux: A step-by-step guide to building your very own personal media streaming server (V2.0: REVISED AND EXPANDED EDITION)

This is a revised, corrected and expanded version of my tutorial on setting up a personal media server that previously appeared on my old blog (donjuan-auxenfers). I expect that that post is still making the rounds (hopefully with my addendum on modifying group share permissions in Ubuntu to circumvent 0x8007003B "Unexpected Network Error" messages in Windows 10/11 when transferring files) but I have no way of checking. Anyway this new revised version of the tutorial corrects one or two small errors I discovered when rereading what I wrote, adds links to all products mentioned and is just more polished generally. I also expanded it a bit, pointing more adventurous users toward programs such as Sonarr/Radarr/Lidarr and Overseerr which can be used for automating user requests and media collection.

So then, what is this tutorial? This is a tutorial on how to build and set up your own personal media server using Ubuntu as an operating system and Plex (or Jellyfin) to not only manage your media, but to also stream that media to your devices both at home and abroad anywhere in the world where you have an internet connection. Its intent is to show you how building a personal media server and stuffing it full of films, TV, and music that you acquired through indiscriminate and voracious media piracy various legal methods will free you to completely ditch paid streaming services. No more will you have to pay for Disney+, Netflix, HBOMAX, Hulu, Amazon Prime, Peacock, CBS All Access, Paramount+, Crave or any other streaming service that is not named Criterion Channel. Instead whenever you want to watch your favourite films and television shows, you’ll have your own personal service that only features things that you want to see, with files that you have control over. And for music fans out there, both Jellyfin and Plex support music streaming, meaning you can even ditch music streaming services. Goodbye Spotify, Youtube Music, Tidal and Apple Music, welcome back unreasonably large MP3 (or FLAC) collections.

On the hardware front, I’m going to offer a few options catered towards different budgets and media library sizes. The cost of getting a media server up and running using this guide will cost you anywhere from $450 CAD/$325 USD at the low end to $1500 CAD/$1100 USD at the high end (it could go higher). My server was priced closer to the higher figure, but I went and got a lot more storage than most people need. If that seems like a little much, consider for a moment, do you have a roommate, a close friend, or a family member who would be willing to chip in a few bucks towards your little project provided they get access? Well that's how I funded my server. It might also be worth thinking about the cost over time, i.e. how much you spend yearly on subscriptions vs. a one time cost of setting up a server. Additionally there's just the joy of being able to scream "fuck you" at all those show cancelling, library deleting, hedge fund vampire CEOs who run the studios through denying them your money. Drive a stake through David Zaslav's heart.

On the software side I will walk you step-by-step through installing Ubuntu as your server's operating system, configuring your storage as a RAIDz array with ZFS, sharing your zpool to Windows with Samba, running a remote connection between your server and your Windows PC, and then a little about started with Plex/Jellyfin. Every terminal command you will need to input will be provided, and I even share a custom #bash script that will make used vs. available drive space on your server display correctly in Windows.

If you have a different preferred flavour of Linux (Arch, Manjaro, Redhat, Fedora, Mint, OpenSUSE, CentOS, Slackware etc. et. al.) and are aching to tell me off for being basic and using Ubuntu, this tutorial is not for you. The sort of person with a preferred Linux distro is the sort of person who can do this sort of thing in their sleep. Also I don't care. This tutorial is intended for the average home computer user. This is also why we’re not using a more exotic home server solution like running everything through Docker Containers and managing it through a dashboard like Homarr or Heimdall. While such solutions are fantastic and can be very easy to maintain once you have it all set up, wrapping your brain around Docker is a whole thing in and of itself. If you do follow this tutorial and had fun putting everything together, then I would encourage you to return in a year’s time, do your research and set up everything with Docker Containers.

Lastly, this is a tutorial aimed at Windows users. Although I was a daily user of OS X for many years (roughly 2008-2023) and I've dabbled quite a bit with various Linux distributions (mostly Ubuntu and Manjaro), my primary OS these days is Windows 11. Many things in this tutorial will still be applicable to Mac users, but others (e.g. setting up shares) you will have to look up for yourself. I doubt it would be difficult to do so.

Nothing in this tutorial will require feats of computing expertise. All you will need is a basic computer literacy (i.e. an understanding of what a filesystem and directory are, and a degree of comfort in the settings menu) and a willingness to learn a thing or two. While this guide may look overwhelming at first glance, it is only because I want to be as thorough as possible. I want you to understand exactly what it is you're doing, I don't want you to just blindly follow steps. If you half-way know what you’re doing, you will be much better prepared if you ever need to troubleshoot.

Honestly, once you have all the hardware ready it shouldn't take more than an afternoon or two to get everything up and running.

(This tutorial is just shy of seven thousand words long so the rest is under the cut.)

Step One: Choosing Your Hardware

Linux is a light weight operating system, depending on the distribution there's close to no bloat. There are recent distributions available at this very moment that will run perfectly fine on a fourteen year old i3 with 4GB of RAM. Moreover, running Plex or Jellyfin isn’t resource intensive in 90% of use cases. All this is to say, we don’t require an expensive or powerful computer. This means that there are several options available: 1) use an old computer you already have sitting around but aren't using 2) buy a used workstation from eBay, or what I believe to be the best option, 3) order an N100 Mini-PC from AliExpress or Amazon.

Note: If you already have an old PC sitting around that you’ve decided to use, fantastic, move on to the next step.

When weighing your options, keep a few things in mind: the number of people you expect to be streaming simultaneously at any one time, the resolution and bitrate of your media library (4k video takes a lot more processing power than 1080p) and most importantly, how many of those clients are going to be transcoding at any one time. Transcoding is what happens when the playback device does not natively support direct playback of the source file. This can happen for a number of reasons, such as the playback device's native resolution being lower than the file's internal resolution, or because the source file was encoded in a video codec unsupported by the playback device.

Ideally we want any transcoding to be performed by hardware. This means we should be looking for a computer with an Intel processor with Quick Sync. Quick Sync is a dedicated core on the CPU die designed specifically for video encoding and decoding. This specialized hardware makes for highly efficient transcoding both in terms of processing overhead and power draw. Without these Quick Sync cores, transcoding must be brute forced through software. This takes up much more of a CPU’s processing power and requires much more energy. But not all Quick Sync cores are created equal and you need to keep this in mind if you've decided either to use an old computer or to shop for a used workstation on eBay

Any Intel processor from second generation Core (Sandy Bridge circa 2011) onward has Quick Sync cores. It's not until 6th gen (Skylake), however, that the cores support the H.265 HEVC codec. Intel’s 10th gen (Comet Lake) processors introduce support for 10bit HEVC and HDR tone mapping. And the recent 12th gen (Alder Lake) processors brought with them hardware AV1 decoding. As an example, while an 8th gen (Kaby Lake) i5-8500 will be able to hardware transcode a H.265 encoded file, it will fall back to software transcoding if given a 10bit H.265 file. If you’ve decided to use that old PC or to look on eBay for an old Dell Optiplex keep this in mind.

Note 1: The price of old workstations varies wildly and fluctuates frequently. If you get lucky and go shopping shortly after a workplace has liquidated a large number of their workstations you can find deals for as low as $100 on a barebones system, but generally an i5-8500 workstation with 16gb RAM will cost you somewhere in the area of $260 CAD/$200 USD.

Note 2: The AMD equivalent to Quick Sync is called Video Core Next, and while it's fine, it's not as efficient and not as mature a technology. It was only introduced with the first generation Ryzen CPUs and it only got decent with their newest CPUs, we want something cheap.

Alternatively you could forgo having to keep track of what generation of CPU is equipped with Quick Sync cores that feature support for which codecs, and just buy an N100 mini-PC. For around the same price or less of a used workstation you can pick up a mini-PC with an Intel N100 processor. The N100 is a four-core processor based on the 12th gen Alder Lake architecture and comes equipped with the latest revision of the Quick Sync cores. These little processors offer astounding hardware transcoding capabilities for their size and power draw. Otherwise they perform equivalent to an i5-6500, which isn't a terrible CPU. A friend of mine uses an N100 machine as a dedicated retro emulation gaming system and it does everything up to 6th generation consoles just fine. The N100 is also a remarkably efficient chip, it sips power. In fact, the difference between running one of these and an old workstation could work out to hundreds of dollars a year in energy bills depending on where you live.

You can find these Mini-PCs all over Amazon or for a little cheaper on AliExpress. They range in price from $170 CAD/$125 USD for a no name N100 with 8GB RAM to $280 CAD/$200 USD for a Beelink S12 Pro with 16GB RAM. The brand doesn't really matter, they're all coming from the same three factories in Shenzen, go for whichever one fits your budget or has features you want. 8GB RAM should be enough, Linux is lightweight and Plex only calls for 2GB RAM. 16GB RAM might result in a slightly snappier experience, especially with ZFS. A 256GB SSD is more than enough for what we need as a boot drive, but going for a bigger drive might allow you to get away with things like creating preview thumbnails for Plex, but it’s up to you and your budget.

The Mini-PC I wound up buying was a Firebat AK2 Plus with 8GB RAM and a 256GB SSD. It looks like this:

Note: Be forewarned that if you decide to order a Mini-PC from AliExpress, note the type of power adapter it ships with. The mini-PC I bought came with an EU power adapter and I had to supply my own North American power supply. Thankfully this is a minor issue as barrel plug 30W/12V/2.5A power adapters are easy to find and can be had for $10.

Step Two: Choosing Your Storage

Storage is the most important part of our build. It is also the most expensive. Thankfully it’s also the most easily upgrade-able down the line.

For people with a smaller media collection (4TB to 8TB), a more limited budget, or who will only ever have two simultaneous streams running, I would say that the most economical course of action would be to buy a USB 3.0 8TB external HDD. Something like this one from Western Digital or this one from Seagate. One of these external drives will cost you in the area of $200 CAD/$140 USD. Down the line you could add a second external drive or replace it with a multi-drive RAIDz set up such as detailed below.

If a single external drive the path for you, move on to step three.

For people with larger media libraries (12TB+), who prefer media in 4k, or care who about data redundancy, the answer is a RAID array featuring multiple HDDs in an enclosure.

Note: If you are using an old PC or used workstatiom as your server and have the room for at least three 3.5" drives, and as many open SATA ports on your mother board you won't need an enclosure, just install the drives into the case. If your old computer is a laptop or doesn’t have room for more internal drives, then I would suggest an enclosure.

The minimum number of drives needed to run a RAIDz array is three, and seeing as RAIDz is what we will be using, you should be looking for an enclosure with three to five bays. I think that four disks makes for a good compromise for a home server. Regardless of whether you go for a three, four, or five bay enclosure, do be aware that in a RAIDz array the space equivalent of one of the drives will be dedicated to parity at a ratio expressed by the equation 1 − 1/n i.e. in a four bay enclosure equipped with four 12TB drives, if we configured our drives in a RAIDz1 array we would be left with a total of 36TB of usable space (48TB raw size). The reason for why we might sacrifice storage space in such a manner will be explained in the next section.

A four bay enclosure will cost somewhere in the area of $200 CDN/$140 USD. You don't need anything fancy, we don't need anything with hardware RAID controls (RAIDz is done entirely in software) or even USB-C. An enclosure with USB 3.0 will perform perfectly fine. Don’t worry too much about USB speed bottlenecks. A mechanical HDD will be limited by the speed of its mechanism long before before it will be limited by the speed of a USB connection. I've seen decent looking enclosures from TerraMaster, Yottamaster, Mediasonic and Sabrent.

When it comes to selecting the drives, as of this writing, the best value (dollar per gigabyte) are those in the range of 12TB to 20TB. I settled on 12TB drives myself. If 12TB to 20TB drives are out of your budget, go with what you can afford, or look into refurbished drives. I'm not sold on the idea of refurbished drives but many people swear by them.

When shopping for harddrives, search for drives designed specifically for NAS use. Drives designed for NAS use typically have better vibration dampening and are designed to be active 24/7. They will also often make use of CMR (conventional magnetic recording) as opposed to SMR (shingled magnetic recording). This nets them a sizable read/write performance bump over typical desktop drives. Seagate Ironwolf and Toshiba NAS are both well regarded brands when it comes to NAS drives. I would avoid Western Digital Red drives at this time. WD Reds were a go to recommendation up until earlier this year when it was revealed that they feature firmware that will throw up false SMART warnings telling you to replace the drive at the three year mark quite often when there is nothing at all wrong with that drive. It will likely even be good for another six, seven, or more years.

Step Three: Installing Linux

For this step you will need a USB thumbdrive of at least 6GB in capacity, an .ISO of Ubuntu, and a way to make that thumbdrive bootable media.

First download a copy of Ubuntu desktop (for best performance we could download the Server release, but for new Linux users I would recommend against the server release. The server release is strictly command line interface only, and having a GUI is very helpful for most people. Not many people are wholly comfortable doing everything through the command line, I'm certainly not one of them, and I grew up with DOS 6.0. 22.04.3 Jammy Jellyfish is the current Long Term Service release, this is the one to get.

Download the .ISO and then download and install balenaEtcher on your Windows PC. BalenaEtcher is an easy to use program for creating bootable media, you simply insert your thumbdrive, select the .ISO you just downloaded, and it will create a bootable installation media for you.

Once you've made a bootable media and you've got your Mini-PC (or you old PC/used workstation) in front of you, hook it directly into your router with an ethernet cable, and then plug in the HDD enclosure, a monitor, a mouse and a keyboard. Now turn that sucker on and hit whatever key gets you into the BIOS (typically ESC, DEL or F2). If you’re using a Mini-PC check to make sure that the P1 and P2 power limits are set correctly, my N100's P1 limit was set at 10W, a full 20W under the chip's power limit. Also make sure that the RAM is running at the advertised speed. My Mini-PC’s RAM was set at 2333Mhz out of the box when it should have been 3200Mhz. Once you’ve done that, key over to the boot order and place the USB drive first in the boot order. Then save the BIOS settings and restart.

After you restart you’ll be greeted by Ubuntu's installation screen. Installing Ubuntu is really straight forward, select the "minimal" installation option, as we won't need anything on this computer except for a browser (Ubuntu comes preinstalled with Firefox) and Plex Media Server/Jellyfin Media Server. Also remember to delete and reformat that Windows partition! We don't need it.

Step Four: Installing ZFS and Setting Up the RAIDz Array

Note: If you opted for just a single external HDD skip this step and move onto setting up a Samba share.

Once Ubuntu is installed it's time to configure our storage by installing ZFS to build our RAIDz array. ZFS is a "next-gen" file system that is both massively flexible and massively complex. It's capable of snapshot backup, self healing error correction, ZFS pools can be configured with drives operating in a supplemental manner alongside the storage vdev (e.g. fast cache, dedicated secondary intent log, hot swap spares etc.). It's also a file system very amenable to fine tuning. Block and sector size are adjustable to use case and you're afforded the option of different methods of inline compression. If you'd like a very detailed overview and explanation of its various features and tips on tuning a ZFS array check out these articles from Ars Technica. For now we're going to ignore all these features and keep it simple, we're going to pull our drives together into a single vdev running in RAIDz which will be the entirety of our zpool, no fancy cache drive or SLOG.

Open up the terminal and type the following commands:

sudo apt update

then

sudo apt install zfsutils-linux

This will install the ZFS utility. Verify that it's installed with the following command:

zfs --version

Now, it's time to check that the HDDs we have in the enclosure are healthy, running, and recognized. We also want to find out their device IDs and take note of them:

sudo fdisk -1

Note: You might be wondering why some of these commands require "sudo" in front of them while others don't. "Sudo" is short for "super user do”. When and where "sudo" is used has to do with the way permissions are set up in Linux. Only the "root" user has the access level to perform certain tasks in Linux. As a matter of security and safety regular user accounts are kept separate from the "root" user. It's not advised (or even possible) to boot into Linux as "root" with most modern distributions. Instead by using "sudo" our regular user account is temporarily given the power to do otherwise forbidden things. Don't worry about it too much at this stage, but if you want to know more check out this introduction.

If everything is working you should get a list of the various drives detected along with their device IDs which will look like this: /dev/sdc. You can also check the device IDs of the drives by opening the disk utility app. Jot these IDs down as we'll need them for our next step, creating our RAIDz array.

RAIDz is similar to RAID-5 in that instead of striping your data over multiple disks, exchanging redundancy for speed and available space (RAID-0), or mirroring your data writing by two copies of every piece (RAID-1), it instead writes parity blocks across the disks in addition to striping, this provides a balance of speed, redundancy and available space. If a single drive fails, the parity blocks on the working drives can be used to reconstruct the entire array as soon as a replacement drive is added.

Additionally, RAIDz improves over some of the common RAID-5 flaws. It's more resilient and capable of self healing, as it is capable of automatically checking for errors against a checksum. It's more forgiving in this way, and it's likely that you'll be able to detect when a drive is dying well before it fails. A RAIDz array can survive the loss of any one drive.

Note: While RAIDz is indeed resilient, if a second drive fails during the rebuild, you're fucked. Always keep backups of things you can't afford to lose. This tutorial, however, is not about proper data safety.

To create the pool, use the following command:

sudo zpool create "zpoolnamehere" raidz "device IDs of drives we're putting in the pool"

For example, let's creatively name our zpool "mypool". This poil will consist of four drives which have the device IDs: sdb, sdc, sdd, and sde. The resulting command will look like this:

sudo zpool create mypool raidz /dev/sdb /dev/sdc /dev/sdd /dev/sde

If as an example you bought five HDDs and decided you wanted more redundancy dedicating two drive to this purpose, we would modify the command to "raidz2" and the command would look something like the following:

sudo zpool create mypool raidz2 /dev/sdb /dev/sdc /dev/sdd /dev/sde /dev/sdf

An array configured like this is known as RAIDz2 and is able to survive two disk failures.

Once the zpool has been created, we can check its status with the command:

zpool status

Or more concisely with:

zpool list

The nice thing about ZFS as a file system is that a pool is ready to go immediately after creation. If we were to set up a traditional RAID-5 array using mbam, we'd have to sit through a potentially hours long process of reformatting and partitioning the drives. Instead we're ready to go right out the gates.

The zpool should be automatically mounted to the filesystem after creation, check on that with the following:

df -hT | grep zfs

Note: If your computer ever loses power suddenly, say in event of a power outage, you may have to re-import your pool. In most cases, ZFS will automatically import and mount your pool, but if it doesn’t and you can't see your array, simply open the terminal and type sudo zpool import -a.

By default a zpool is mounted at /"zpoolname". The pool should be under our ownership but let's make sure with the following command:

sudo chown -R "yourlinuxusername" /"zpoolname"

Note: Changing file and folder ownership with "chown" and file and folder permissions with "chmod" are essential commands for much of the admin work in Linux, but we won't be dealing with them extensively in this guide. If you'd like a deeper tutorial and explanation you can check out these two guides: chown and chmod.

You can access the zpool file system through the GUI by opening the file manager (the Ubuntu default file manager is called Nautilus) and clicking on "Other Locations" on the sidebar, then entering the Ubuntu file system and looking for a folder with your pool's name. Bookmark the folder on the sidebar for easy access.

Your storage pool is now ready to go. Assuming that we already have some files on our Windows PC we want to copy to over, we're going to need to install and configure Samba to make the pool accessible in Windows.

Step Five: Setting Up Samba/Sharing

Samba is what's going to let us share the zpool with Windows and allow us to write to it from our Windows machine. First let's install Samba with the following commands:

sudo apt-get update

then

sudo apt-get install samba

Next create a password for Samba.

sudo smbpswd -a "yourlinuxusername"

It will then prompt you to create a password. Just reuse your Ubuntu user password for simplicity's sake.

Note: if you're using just a single external drive replace the zpool location in the following commands with wherever it is your external drive is mounted, for more information see this guide on mounting an external drive in Ubuntu.

After you've created a password we're going to create a shareable folder in our pool with this command

mkdir /"zpoolname"/"foldername"

Now we're going to open the smb.conf file and make that folder shareable. Enter the following command.

sudo nano /etc/samba/smb.conf

This will open the .conf file in nano, the terminal text editor program. Now at the end of smb.conf add the following entry:

["foldername"]

path = /"zpoolname"/"foldername"

available = yes

valid users = "yourlinuxusername"

read only = no

writable = yes

browseable = yes

guest ok = no

Ensure that there are no line breaks between the lines and that there's a space on both sides of the equals sign. Our next step is to allow Samba traffic through the firewall:

sudo ufw allow samba

Finally restart the Samba service:

sudo systemctl restart smbd

At this point we'll be able to access to the pool, browse its contents, and read and write to it from Windows. But there's one more thing left to do, Windows doesn't natively support the ZFS file systems and will read the used/available/total space in the pool incorrectly. Windows will read available space as total drive space, and all used space as null. This leads to Windows only displaying a dwindling amount of "available" space as the drives are filled. We can fix this! Functionally this doesn't actually matter, we can still write and read to and from the disk, it just makes it difficult to tell at a glance the proportion of used/available space, so this is an optional step but one I recommend (this step is also unnecessary if you're just using a single external drive). What we're going to do is write a little shell script in #bash. Open nano with the terminal with the command:

nano

Now insert the following code:

#!/bin/bash CUR_PATH=`pwd` ZFS_CHECK_OUTPUT=$(zfs get type $CUR_PATH 2>&1 > /dev/null) > /dev/null if [[ $ZFS_CHECK_OUTPUT == *not\ a\ ZFS* ]] then IS_ZFS=false else IS_ZFS=true fi if [[ $IS_ZFS = false ]] then df $CUR_PATH | tail -1 | awk '{print $2" "$4}' else USED=$((`zfs get -o value -Hp used $CUR_PATH` / 1024)) > /dev/null AVAIL=$((`zfs get -o value -Hp available $CUR_PATH` / 1024)) > /dev/null TOTAL=$(($USED+$AVAIL)) > /dev/null echo $TOTAL $AVAIL fi

Save the script as "dfree.sh" to /home/"yourlinuxusername" then change the ownership of the file to make it executable with this command:

sudo chmod 774 dfree.sh

Now open smb.conf with sudo again:

sudo nano /etc/samba/smb.conf

Now add this entry to the top of the configuration file to direct Samba to use the results of our script when Windows asks for a reading on the pool's used/available/total drive space:

[global]

dfree command = /home/"yourlinuxusername"/dfree.sh

Save the changes to smb.conf and then restart Samba again with the terminal:

sudo systemctl restart smbd

Now there’s one more thing we need to do to fully set up the Samba share, and that’s to modify a hidden group permission. In the terminal window type the following command:

usermod -a -G sambashare “yourlinuxusername”

Then restart samba again:

sudo systemctl restart smbd

If we don’t do this last step, everything will appear to work fine, and you will even be able to see and map the drive from Windows and even begin transferring files, but you'd soon run into a lot of frustration. As every ten minutes or so a file would fail to transfer and you would get a window announcing “0x8007003B Unexpected Network Error”. This window would require your manual input to continue the transfer with the file next in the queue. And at the end it would reattempt to transfer whichever files failed the first time around. 99% of the time they’ll go through that second try, but this is still all a major pain in the ass. Especially if you’ve got a lot of data to transfer or you want to step away from the computer for a while.

It turns out samba can act a little weirdly with the higher read/write speeds of RAIDz arrays and transfers from Windows, and will intermittently crash and restart itself if this group option isn’t changed. Inputting the above command will prevent you from ever seeing that window.

The last thing we're going to do before switching over to our Windows PC is grab the IP address of our Linux machine. Enter the following command:

hostname -I

This will spit out this computer's IP address on the local network (it will look something like 192.168.0.x), write it down. It might be a good idea once you're done here to go into your router settings and reserving that IP for your Linux system in the DHCP settings. Check the manual for your specific model router on how to access its settings, typically it can be accessed by opening a browser and typing http:\\192.168.0.1 in the address bar, but your router may be different.

Okay we’re done with our Linux computer for now. Get on over to your Windows PC, open File Explorer, right click on Network and click "Map network drive". Select Z: as the drive letter (you don't want to map the network drive to a letter you could conceivably be using for other purposes) and enter the IP of your Linux machine and location of the share like so: \\"LINUXCOMPUTERLOCALIPADDRESSGOESHERE"\"zpoolnamegoeshere"\. Windows will then ask you for your username and password, enter the ones you set earlier in Samba and you're good. If you've done everything right it should look something like this:

You can now start moving media over from Windows to the share folder. It's a good idea to have a hard line running to all machines. Moving files over Wi-Fi is going to be tortuously slow, the only thing that’s going to make the transfer time tolerable (hours instead of days) is a solid wired connection between both machines and your router.

Step Six: Setting Up Remote Desktop Access to Your Server

After the server is up and going, you’ll want to be able to access it remotely from Windows. Barring serious maintenance/updates, this is how you'll access it most of the time. On your Linux system open the terminal and enter:

sudo apt install xrdp

Then:

sudo systemctl enable xrdp

Once it's finished installing, open “Settings” on the sidebar and turn off "automatic login" in the User category. Then log out of your account. Attempting to remotely connect to your Linux computer while you’re logged in will result in a black screen!

Now get back on your Windows PC, open search and look for "RDP". A program called "Remote Desktop Connection" should pop up, open this program as an administrator by right-clicking and selecting “run as an administrator”. You’ll be greeted with a window. In the field marked “Computer” type in the IP address of your Linux computer. Press connect and you'll be greeted with a new window and prompt asking for your username and password. Enter your Ubuntu username and password here.

If everything went right, you’ll be logged into your Linux computer. If the performance is sluggish, adjust the display options. Lowering the resolution and colour depth do a lot to make the interface feel snappier.

Remote access is how we're going to be using our Linux system from now, barring edge cases like needing to get into the BIOS or upgrading to a new version of Ubuntu. Everything else from performing maintenance like a monthly zpool scrub to checking zpool status and updating software can all be done remotely.

This is how my server lives its life now, happily humming and chirping away on the floor next to the couch in a corner of the living room.

Step Seven: Plex Media Server/Jellyfin

Okay we’ve got all the ground work finished and our server is almost up and running. We’ve got Ubuntu up and running, our storage array is primed, we’ve set up remote connections and sharing, and maybe we’ve moved over some of favourite movies and TV shows.

Now we need to decide on the media server software to use which will stream our media to us and organize our library. For most people I’d recommend Plex. It just works 99% of the time. That said, Jellyfin has a lot to recommend it by too, even if it is rougher around the edges. Some people run both simultaneously, it’s not that big of an extra strain. I do recommend doing a little bit of your own research into the features each platform offers, but as a quick run down, consider some of the following points:

Plex is closed source and is funded through PlexPass purchases while Jellyfin is open source and entirely user driven. This means a number of things: for one, Plex requires you to purchase a “PlexPass” (purchased as a one time lifetime fee $159.99 CDN/$120 USD or paid for on a monthly or yearly subscription basis) in order to access to certain features, like hardware transcoding (and we want hardware transcoding) or automated intro/credits detection and skipping, Jellyfin offers some of these features for free through plugins. Plex supports a lot more devices than Jellyfin and updates more frequently. That said, Jellyfin's Android and iOS apps are completely free, while the Plex Android and iOS apps must be activated for a one time cost of $6 CDN/$5 USD. But that $6 fee gets you a mobile app that is much more functional and features a unified UI across platforms, the Plex mobile apps are simply a more polished experience. The Jellyfin apps are a bit of a mess and the iOS and Android versions are very different from each other.

Jellyfin’s actual media player is more fully featured than Plex's, but on the other hand Jellyfin's UI, library customization and automatic media tagging really pale in comparison to Plex. Streaming your music library is free through both Jellyfin and Plex, but Plex offers the PlexAmp app for dedicated music streaming which boasts a number of fantastic features, unfortunately some of those fantastic features require a PlexPass. If your internet is down, Jellyfin can still do local streaming, while Plex can fail to play files unless you've got it set up a certain way. Jellyfin has a slew of neat niche features like support for Comic Book libraries with the .cbz/.cbt file types, but then Plex offers some free ad-supported TV and films, they even have a free channel that plays nothing but Classic Doctor Who.

Ultimately it's up to you, I settled on Plex because although some features are pay-walled, it just works. It's more reliable and easier to use, and a one-time fee is much easier to swallow than a subscription. I had a pretty easy time getting my boomer parents and tech illiterate brother introduced to and using Plex and I don't know if I would've had as easy a time doing that with Jellyfin. I do also need to mention that Jellyfin does take a little extra bit of tinkering to get going in Ubuntu, you’ll have to set up process permissions, so if you're more tolerant to tinkering, Jellyfin might be up your alley and I’ll trust that you can follow their installation and configuration guide. For everyone else, I recommend Plex.

So pick your poison: Plex or Jellyfin.

Note: The easiest way to download and install either of these packages in Ubuntu is through Snap Store.

After you've installed one (or both), opening either app will launch a browser window into the browser version of the app allowing you to set all the options server side.

The process of adding creating media libraries is essentially the same in both Plex and Jellyfin. You create a separate libraries for Television, Movies, and Music and add the folders which contain the respective types of media to their respective libraries. The only difficult or time consuming aspect is ensuring that your files and folders follow the appropriate naming conventions:

Plex naming guide for Movies

Plex naming guide for Television

Jellyfin follows the same naming rules but I find their media scanner to be a lot less accurate and forgiving than Plex. Once you've selected the folders to be scanned the service will scan your files, tagging everything and adding metadata. Although I find do find Plex more accurate, it can still erroneously tag some things and you might have to manually clean up some tags in a large library. (When I initially created my library it tagged the 1963-1989 Doctor Who as some Korean soap opera and I needed to manually select the correct match after which everything was tagged normally.) It can also be a bit testy with anime (especially OVAs) be sure to check TVDB to ensure that you have your files and folders structured and named correctly. If something is not showing up at all, double check the name.

Once that's done, organizing and customizing your library is easy. You can set up collections, grouping items together to fit a theme or collect together all the entries in a franchise. You can make playlists, and add custom artwork to entries. It's fun setting up collections with posters to match, there are even several websites dedicated to help you do this like PosterDB. As an example, below are two collections in my library, one collecting all the entries in a franchise, the other follows a theme.

My Star Trek collection, featuring all eleven television series, and thirteen films.

My Best of the Worst collection, featuring sixty-nine films previously showcased on RedLetterMedia’s Best of the Worst. They’re all absolutely terrible and I love them.

As for settings, ensure you've got Remote Access going, it should work automatically and be sure to set your upload speed after running a speed test. In the library settings set the database cache to 2000MB to ensure a snappier and more responsive browsing experience, and then check that playback quality is set to original/maximum. If you’re severely bandwidth limited on your upload and have remote users, you might want to limit the remote stream bitrate to something more reasonable, just as a note of comparison Netflix’s 1080p bitrate is approximately 5Mbps, although almost anyone watching through a chromium based browser is streaming at 720p and 3mbps. Other than that you should be good to go. For actually playing your files, there's a Plex app for just about every platform imaginable. I mostly watch television and films on my laptop using the Windows Plex app, but I also use the Android app which can broadcast to the chromecast connected to the TV in the office and the Android TV app for our smart TV. Both are fully functional and easy to navigate, and I can also attest to the OS X version being equally functional.

Part Eight: Finding Media

Now, this is not really a piracy tutorial, there are plenty of those out there. But if you’re unaware, BitTorrent is free and pretty easy to use, just pick a client (qBittorrent is the best) and go find some public trackers to peruse. Just know now that all the best trackers are private and invite only, and that they can be exceptionally difficult to get into. I’m already on a few, and even then, some of the best ones are wholly out of my reach.

If you decide to take the left hand path and turn to Usenet you’ll have to pay. First you’ll need to sign up with a provider like Newshosting or EasyNews for access to Usenet itself, and then to actually find anything you’re going to need to sign up with an indexer like NZBGeek or NZBFinder. There are dozens of indexers, and many people cross post between them, but for more obscure media it’s worth checking multiple. You’ll also need a binary downloader like SABnzbd. That caveat aside, Usenet is faster, bigger, older, less traceable than BitTorrent, and altogether slicker. I honestly prefer it, and I'm kicking myself for taking this long to start using it because I was scared off by the price. I’ve found so many things on Usenet that I had sought in vain elsewhere for years, like a 2010 Italian film about a massacre perpetrated by the SS that played the festival circuit but never received a home media release; some absolute hero uploaded a rip of a festival screener DVD to Usenet. Anyway, figure out the rest of this shit on your own and remember to use protection, get yourself behind a VPN, use a SOCKS5 proxy with your BitTorrent client, etc.

On the legal side of things, if you’re around my age, you (or your family) probably have a big pile of DVDs and Blu-Rays sitting around unwatched and half forgotten. Why not do a bit of amateur media preservation, rip them and upload them to your server for easier access? (Your tools for this are going to be Handbrake to do the ripping and AnyDVD to break any encryption.) I went to the trouble of ripping all my SCTV DVDs (five box sets worth) because none of it is on streaming nor could it be found on any pirate source I tried. I’m glad I did, forty years on it’s still one of the funniest shows to ever be on TV.

Part Nine/Epilogue: Sonarr/Radarr/Lidarr and Overseerr

There are a lot of ways to automate your server for better functionality or to add features you and other users might find useful. Sonarr, Radarr, and Lidarr are a part of a suite of “Servarr” services (there’s also Readarr for books and Whisparr for adult content) that allow you to automate the collection of new episodes of TV shows (Sonarr), new movie releases (Radarr) and music releases (Lidarr). They hook in to your BitTorrent client or Usenet binary newsgroup downloader and crawl your preferred Torrent trackers and Usenet indexers, alerting you to new releases and automatically grabbing them. You can also use these services to manually search for new media, and even replace/upgrade your existing media with better quality uploads. They’re really a little tricky to set up on a bare metal Ubuntu install (ideally you should be running them in Docker Containers), and I won’t be providing a step by step on installing and running them, I’m simply making you aware of their existence.

The other bit of kit I want to make you aware of is Overseerr which is a program that scans your Plex media library and will serve recommendations based on what you like. It also allows you and your users to request specific media. It can even be integrated with Sonarr/Radarr/Lidarr so that fulfilling those requests is fully automated.

And you're done. It really wasn't all that hard. Enjoy your media. Enjoy the control you have over that media. And be safe in the knowledge that no hedgefund CEO motherfucker who hates the movies but who is somehow in control of a major studio will be able to disappear anything in your library as a tax write-off.

[arodiia]

currently thinking about security breach!mike and security guard!reader..

you’re a newly hired security guard at the pizza plex, juggling early morning shifts, blinding lights, and screaming children—all while trying to keep up with college.

lately, rumors have been circulating about a man with unnaturally purple skin and hollow, dark eyes wandering the building in a worker’s uniform. you never paid much attention, refusing to fall for what sounded like a bad joke.

today, you were unexpectedly assigned to perform maintenance on glamrock freddy. it wasn’t in your job description, but the promise of extra pay made it an easy yes. the problem? you can’t seem to find his room.

you sigh, rubbing the back of your neck as you glance around the unfamiliar hallway. the pizza plex is a maze, and whoever designed it clearly had a personal vendetta against anyone trying to navigate the place.

after a few more minutes of aimless wandering, you notice a door slightly ajar at the end of the hall. unlike the others, this one doesn’t have a bright, inviting sign plastered above it—just a plain metal door, almost forgotten in the chaos of neon lights and cartoonish decor.

curiosity tugs at you. if this isn’t freddy’s room, maybe you’ll at least find someone who can give you directions. with that reasoning, you push the door open and step inside.

the room is dimly lit, a stark contrast to the rest of the building. dust floats in the beams of weak, flickering fluorescent lights. scattered tools and abandoned blueprints litter the countertops, and old animatronic parts are stacked haphazardly in the corners.

and standing in the middle of it all is him.

the man from the rumors.

you freeze, but not out of fear. if anything, excitement bubbles in your chest like a shaken soda can.

he’s exactly how people described—skin an unnatural shade of purple, like a bruise that never healed, and deep-set, hollow eyes that seem to swallow what little light exists in the room. his uniform is worn, frayed at the edges, the logo barely visible anymore.

michael stares at you, clearly waiting for a reaction. maybe a scream. maybe you running out the door.

instead, you take a step closer, eyes wide with curiosity.

“whoa.”

that was probably not the response he expected.

he blinks. “what?”

“you’re real.” you squint at him, fascinated. “i thought you were just a stupid ghost story to scare new employees.”

michael shifts uncomfortably, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re messing with him. “…right. and you’re not freaking out because?”

you gasp. “you look so cool!”

silence. he looks genuinely baffled.

“okay—okay, i have so many questions.” you step even closer, practically vibrating with excitement. “are you actually dead? or like, only kind of dead? what’s with the purple thing—was it a side effect of, y’know, dying? how long have you been here? do you just hang around in dark rooms waiting to scare people?”

michael pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. “you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“do you eat? sleep? do you haunt the animatronics or just lurk around like some emo cryptid?”

michael lets out a groan and turns away, muttering under his breath as he rummages through a toolbox. “i don’t have time for this.”

you cross your arms. “you sure? because it kinda looks like you’re just sulking in a random backroom.”

he glares at you, but there’s no real heat behind it—more like the exasperation of someone who just realized they’ve been adopted by an overly enthusiastic stray.

“…you’re not gonna leave, are you?”

“nope.” you quickly step in front of him, eager to get a closer look. his cheeks are abraded, exposing parts of his teeth and the inside of his mouth.

he stares at you, then looks away as you slowly lift a finger, tempted to trace the jagged opening. before you can make contact, he swiftly swats your hand away.

“why are you here?” he asks, already turning back to whatever he was working on.

“got lost looking for freddy’s room.”

michael huffs, shaking his head. “figures.”

you watch as he fiddles with some old animatronic parts, his hands moving with practiced precision. despite the worn-down look of his uniform and the eerie state of his body, he seems oddly… normal. like he’s just another exhausted employee trying to get through his shift.

“so, what are you doing?” you ask, leaning against the cluttered worktable.

he doesn’t look up. “fixing something.”

“super specific.” you glance at the parts scattered around him. wires, gears, metal plating—bits and pieces of something that once resembled an animatronic. “is this, like, a hobby? or are you actually supposed to be doing this?”

michael pauses, then side-eyes you. “let’s just say it’s complicated.”

you hum in thought, watching him work. despite his reluctance, you can tell he’s skilled. his movements are precise, like he’s done this a thousand times before.

“so, you do know how to fix animatronics.” you grin. “great! that means you can help me with freddy.”

he lets out a dry laugh. “yeah, no. not my problem.”

“oh, come on! i have no idea what i’m doing, and this isn’t even part of my job.” you gesture dramatically. “besides, i bet you could fix him way faster than i ever could.”

michael doesn’t respond right away. he just stares at the half-disassembled parts in front of him, like he’s debating whether he actually cares enough to argue. eventually, he sighs.

“fine.” he mutters. “but if this goes south, it’s your fault.”

you grin, clapping your hands together. “deal.”

michael mutters something under his breath before grabbing a few tools from the workbench. “come on,” he says, already heading for the door.

you blink. “wait, seriously?”

he throws you an unamused look over his shoulder. “you begged me to help, didn’t you?”

grinning, you quickly follow him out into the hall. despite his sluggish posture, michael moves like he knows the layout of the pizza plex better than anyone. it makes you wonder just how long he’s been lurking around here.

as you walk, curiosity gets the better of you again. “so, are you like… trapped here? or do you just hang around for fun?”

michael exhales sharply. “yeah, because this place is such a great vacation spot.”

“hey, you never know. some people would kill for unlimited pizza and neon lights.”

he scoffs but doesn’t answer. you don’t press—yet.

eventually, you both reach freddy’s room, and michael steps inside like he’s done it a thousand times before. he surveys the animatronic bear slumped in his chair, unresponsive, with his chest cavity slightly ajar.

michael tilts his head. “what’s wrong with him?”

you shrug. “no clue. they just told me to ‘fix’ him.”

he sighs. “great. vague instructions. my favorite.”

without another word, he crouches next to freddy and starts working, hands moving with precision as he pulls open a panel and checks the wiring.

you lean against the wall, watching with fascination. “so, how do you know all this?”

michael doesn’t look up. “experience.”

“experience from where?”

“does it matter?”

“yes.”

he pauses for a second, then shakes his head and keeps working. “you’re annoying.”

you grin. “yep.”

silence falls between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. you just watch as michael fixes freddy with practiced ease, a strange mix of exhaustion and expertise in every movement.

after a few minutes, you cross your arms. “so, real talk—are you actually dead?”

michael finally stops, looking up at you with a flat expression.

“…do you want me to be?”

“no, but I need to know.” you squint at him. “like, are you a ghost? a zombie? something in between?”

michael groans and rubs his temples. “this was a mistake.”

michael ignores you for a while, focusing on freddy’s wiring like you’re not standing there staring at him. but you’re patient—and relentless.

you squat down next to him, resting your chin on your hand. “sooo… what happens if i poke you?”

his hands pause for a split second before resuming. “don’t.”

“but what if i do?”

“then you lose a finger.”

you hum, considering if that’s a risk worth taking. instead, you tap a finger against your chin. “okay, but like… do you feel things normally? if i punched you, would it hurt?”

michael exhales sharply through his nose. “i think it would hurt you more than me.”

you smirk. “so you do feel pain.”

he glares at you, then turns back to freddy. “why are you like this?”

“i’m just curious,” you say, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “you’re literally a walking corpse or something—I feel like my questions are justified.”

michael doesn’t say anything. instead, he reaches into freddy’s chest cavity, adjusts something, and suddenly, the animatronic’s eyes flicker back to life.

“superstar…?” freddy’s voice is groggy, his systems booting up slowly.

you blink. “wait—that’s all it took?”

michael sits back on his heels, wiping his hands on his already dirty uniform. “yep.”

you gape at him. “you could’ve done that in seconds, and you still acted like this wasn’t your problem?”

michael shrugs. “wasn’t my problem. you made it my problem.”

before you can retort, freddy’s glowing blue eyes focus on michael, and his ears twitch slightly. “who… are you?”

michael stands up, brushing dust off himself. “no one important.”

freddy tilts his head, his mechanical whirs filling the silence. “you seem… familiar.”

michael tenses just slightly, but you notice it.

freddy hums, still studying him. “strange. you remind me of someone. someone from long ago…”

michael clears his throat. “yeah, well. i don’t.”

freddy doesn’t press further, but you’re watching michael carefully now. whatever that was, he didn’t like it.

but you’ll come back to that later. for now, you clap your hands together. “well, mystery man, i think that officially makes you my new go-to animatronic repair guy.”

michael gives you a deadpan look. “absolutely not.”

“too late, you already proved you’re good at it.” you grin. “congrats on your new unofficial job!”

michael groans, dragging a hand down his face. “this is actually my worst nightmare.”

“oh, come on, it won’t be that bad,” you tease. “plus, now you get to spend so much more time with me.”

he stares at you, expression blank. “i’m going to regret not letting you stay lost in that hallway.”

you just flash him a grin.

michael sighs, running a hand through his messy hair. “great. just great.”

you beam at him, clearly unbothered by his exasperation. “glad you think so!”

freddy, now fully operational, watches the interaction with curiosity. “friend, do you know this individual?” he asks, directing the question at you.

“yep!” you say cheerfully before michael can protest. “this is michael! he’s grumpy and weird and apparently really good at fixing animatronics.”

michael glares at you. “i’m not your friend.”

freddy hums. “i believe friendships can form unexpectedly.”

michael groans. “not helping, bear.”

you pat freddy’s arm. “don’t mind him. he’s just in denial.”

michael crosses his arms, clearly regretting every decision that led to this moment. “look, you got what you wanted. freddy’s fixed. we are done here.”

you tilt your head, pretending to consider it. “hmm… nah. i think we’re just getting started.”

michael stares at you like he wants to evaporate into thin air. when that doesn’t happen, he pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters something you’re pretty sure is a string of curses.

freddy, ever the polite animatronic, tilts his head. “perhaps you should accompany us, michael. if you truly possess such knowledge, you could be of great help.”

michael levels freddy with a dry look. “i could also just walk away and pretend none of this ever happened.”

you smile innocently. “you could—but you won’t.”

michael narrows his eyes at you. “and why’s that?”

you shrug. “because you’re curious. about me, about freddy, about why i’m not scared of you. you could leave, but something tells me you won’t.”

for the first time since you met him, michael actually looks caught off guard. just for a second. then, his usual deadpan expression returns.

“…you’re more annoying than i thought.”

“and you’re more interesting than you let on.” you grin. “guess we’re stuck with each other now.”

michael groans dramatically, but you don’t miss the way he hesitates before finally muttering, “fine. but don’t expect me to be nice about it.”

“wouldn’t dream of it.”

freddy claps his hands together. “wonderful! i believe this will be a great team effort.”

michael mutters something under his breath about his life choices, but he doesn’t leave.

michael rubs his temple like this whole situation is giving him an actual headache. “fine,” he mutters. “but i swear, if you start treating me like your personal repairman—”

“—too late,” you cut in with a grin. “you fixed freddy, which means you’re now officially on-call for all animatronic-related emergencies.”

he glares at you, but there’s no real hate behind it. “you’re lucky i don’t just disappear.”

you hum, tapping a finger against your chin. “but you won’t. because despite all that broody, ‘i-hate-everything’ energy, i think you actually like having someone to talk to.”

michael scoffs, looking away. “you’re imagining things.”

“am i, though?” you step a little closer, tilting your head as you study him. up close, the strange, almost translucent quality of his skin is more noticeable. despite the unnatural color, you can see the faintest traces of freckles dusted across his nose and cheekbones, like remnants of a life long past.

his jaw tightens when he notices you staring, but he doesn’t move away.

“what?” he finally asks, voice lower, rougher.

you shrug. “just thinking. you don’t look that bad for a guy who’s technically dead.”

his eyes snap to yours, and for a moment, something flickers in them—surprise? amusement? annoyance? maybe a mix of all three.

“that’s the weirdest compliment i’ve ever gotten,” he mutters.

“yeah, well,” you smile, stepping back, “it’s true.”

he watches you for a beat longer, expression unreadable, before shaking his head with a sigh.

lowkey wanna make this a little mini series, lmk if you guys would want that!! also— freddy my shayla 😭😭

[midnight-mourning]

Birds of a Feather

Bit of writing for @divinit3a's cafe prompts! A little one shot set in @crystalmagpie447's winged dca au. Be sure to check both of them, the prompts, and the au out!

That all being said, enjoyed making this, hope you enjoy reading it ^^

Word Count: 1795

Chosen Words: feathers, flight, clouds, hope, restart

"Thank you for visiting Superstar Daycare! We hope you have a Faztastic rest of your day!" Sun says, shutting the door with a sigh.

You glance up from organizing the drawings from today, seeing he's slouched back against the door, defeated. Not that he'd ever admit it, of course. You're almost tempted to go back to your work without another word so to let him keep up his perceived joyous attitude. But, you desire to be a better friend than that. 

Even if he doesn't want you to be. 

You sort another work of art into the pile for next week's feature pieces. "Long day, huh?"

"Oh, not at all, Sunshine!" You hear his rays spin, and peeking up again his posture is ramrod straight again. "Today was wonderful, just like all the others before it! And before that, and before that, and before that..." Back to that chipper tone, as you had expected, but it never hurt to try. 

Something you don't think Sun realized—likely due to not being created with them initially—is that wing's display an array of emotions as much as any other part of one's body language. When nervous, they quiver and flick and shrink in much like his own rays. When happy, they're bursting with life, shifting not dissimilarly to one's own arms. And when angry, well, you think he might have realized that one. 

Whenever you pressed him too hard, asked too many questions, showed too much care, they would puff up, feathers stifled and quick in their movements. 

You never told him these things, which may make you not so good a friend, but you knew if you let him in on the mannerisms he displayed, he'd do everything he could to stop them. 'Correct' them. You know, because when you'd commented on how his rays spun when he got excited, he was down in Parts and Services all but demanding them to fix his problem. Or at least, his concept of a problem. 

So instead, you let out a quiet laugh. "I'm always here to talk, but if you say so, I'll leave it lie."

"Good. Glad that's settled."

With that, he takes a few quick strides over to the craft tables and begins cleaning them up. You sigh, but let it go. It's not your business after all, that much had been made clear to you. 

As clean up goes along—quiet, save for small talk between the two of you, friendly, but nothing more—your thoughts go back to the Attendant once more. Specifically, his wings. 

Always constantly using them, the both of them. You think that despite having them before you arrived even, they were still in a way a new and exciting feature for the two animatronics. Seeing even the smallest of reasons to exercise them. Be it to flit about the room just a little quicker, play with the children, or to do a survey of the daycare—or the entire Plex in Moon's case—just a quick flap of their wings, and it was possible.

You suppose it's something that can't be helped. Though only every so often, in times like this, where you feel just a little more isolated than usual. A little more lonely. That feeling is what had drawn you here in the first place, in a way. Besides the need for a paying job that is. 

A chance for a restart, a fresh start even. When you first saw the Daycare, realized what a, solo existence, the two attendants had, it had gripped at you. Gripped at a particular part of your own being that you recognized. Despite having wings themselves, they're story was similar to yours. Outcasted from society and those around them for things outside their control. 

An inability to take flight, versus an inability to fly elsewhere. Trapped, in every sense of word. The only difference being the cage in use. 

"Penny for your thoughts, Dragonfly?"

You glance up, seeing Moon perched on the piece of the playset above you. You liked to come up here and sit sometimes, sit anywhere up high, just to get a taste for what could have been. 

You'd accepted long ago the way things were, and for the most part it wouldn't haunt you. It wasn't your fault, wasn't something in your control. It just was. There were plenty of others like you, even, and they held no shame, so neither would you. 

But that didn't control the longing that would ensnare you from time to time. 

Back in the present, you scoff at the lunar animatronic. "Knowing you you'd take more than just a penny from me. Probably my entire wallet if you could get by with it, yeah?"

"Perhaps." Moon snickers, faceplate spinning. "You'll never know until you try though."

You laugh, then shake your head. "Figured as much. Hard pass, Moon-man."

"Hm. Care to just share what's on your mind then?" He reaches over and above you to the opposite edge of the playset, essentially laying horizontal above you, gaze focused down on you. "Free of charge."

You consider the offer a moment, then mimic his pose, going from lean back, to laying back perpendicular to him, face covered in the glow of his red eyes. 

"You think it's silly to want something you can't have? That'll always be out of your reach and never within? Something you'll always have on the back of your mind, no matter how hard you try to live your life free of even a thought about it?"

Moon tilts his head. "What a loaded series of questions. I'm a jester, not a sage, you know." He chuckles, and usually you'd join in, maybe roll your eyes or the likes, but your heart's not in it. 

It's something he picks up on immediately, wings behind him fluttering just a tad. But even in the darkness you catch it. 

He puts a hand under his chin in thought. "Well, I suppose if you'd really want to get into it, yes."

You wait. 

Nothing else. 

"What?" He asks. 

You shrug. "Thought you'd share a bit more as to what. You know, be relatable and all that."

Moon chuckles, it takes on a more sinister edge at the end. 

"Not quite. But I'll listen to your plights if you'd like, Nightingale."

"Sometimes, more than anything, I wish I could fly." Your hands fold across your chest. "It's a silly endeavor, I know. But I still want it sometimes."

He must not have been expecting that, eyes widening just a tad. He asks a question you weren't anticipating. "Have you ever been?"

"A few times, when I was small. With my parents. They'd hold me below them and I'd pretend to be gliding all on my own." You close your eyes at the memories, filled with shrieks of laughter and childish glee. You think if they'd known that would be your only time up in the sky, they'd have taken you more often. 

"What was it like?"

You open your eyes. Looking above you to the former naptime attendant turned security bot. His words were soft, holding a tender curiosity you wouldn't have expected.

You furrow your brow. "What do you mean? You know what flying is like."

"The sky." He rasps, and it clicks. All but confirming one of your deepest beliefs then and there. 

You swallow, hiding the utter elation such information gives you, that hope for connection no longer so out of reach. You give it your best shot to provide an accurate, detailed, description. 

"It's colder than you think it would be. When you get high up. But the sun's warmth usually helps with that. The wind feels lovely on your feathers though." Your hand reaches out above you for a moment. "And the clouds, they're wet. Or well, damp. It was quite a shock the first time my dad dragged me through one." 

"What were you expecting?" Moon hums. 

You chuckle. "I don't know, cotton candy, or pillow fluff, or something like that. I was only like four." Your hand drops back down. "It was a long time ago."

Moon stays quiet. You continue. 

"And my first night flight. What a time. You always think if you could a little higher you'll reach the stars. Or at least that's what I thought, begging my mom to just 'go a little higher, just a little more'. She didn't always oblige me, but when she did, god, the buildings, the cities, the world, all of it felt so small." You shake your head. "And quiet. So, so quiet."

"Was that it then? The last time you were up there?" 

Another head shake. "No. I think I was maybe seven or eight before I got too heavy to lug around." 

Silence again, you think to look up to him again, gaze having become unfocused in your reminiscing. 

He's also somewhere else it seems, faceplate twisting back and forth, optics just a tinge dim. He comes out of it when he notices your stare. 

"I'll take you sometime." He states, nodding once.

"What?"

Another nod. "Into the sky. I'll take you there. You hardly weigh a thing to me."

"First of all, rude. Second of all... why?" You're a bit in disbelief. 

He shrugs. "Why not?"

Moon sits up then, back to his original position and you do the same. 

"Because that's a big thing to offer!" 

"Not offer." He pokes your forehead, eyes crinkling. "Promise."

You bluster. "Even worse!" 

You don't get to pester him further about it, as he flips back over the edge of the playset, landing right as the lights come back on. Sun looks up to you as you peer over the edge of the playset. He tilts his head at you. 

"What's with that look, Busybee?"

"I'm gonna get you out of here one day." You blurt. 

He freezes. "What?"

"I, if, if you want, I mean." You fumble to recover. "If you ever decide you want to leave. If you ever want to get out just for a moment, I'll help you. I promise."

Sun's rays twist, otherwise motionless, even as you take the nearest slide and walk over to him. 

Worried, you reach out for him. "Sun—"

Springing to life again, acting as if nothing happened. "So sorry, Sunshine! It seems I had a bit of a lapse there, won't happen again!"

"Oh. Gotcha. Okay." You turn around to get back to work, your short break now over, when his hand rests on your shoulder. 

You look up, Sun's eyes crinkle as his rays spin. 

"I hope one day I'll be able to take you up on that promise, and return it in kind."

You smile lightly, and nod. "Yeah. Me too."

And there we go! Hope i did the prompt and the au justice! Both were fun to work with. Excited to share more art and writing as the month goes on hehe

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info, you can also dm me!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay

[thesmilingfish]

So you wanna watch some of David Hewlett's pre-Stargate work?

I've compiled a list of everything that I could find that's available to stream for free (at least in the US) that he's done from 1987-2001.

If there are mistakes, links don't work or something is missing, please let me know.

Oh, and I didn't write the blurbs, some of which are pretty awful but as with a lot of you I've not seen everything on the list so I can't vouch for their veracity. If I have seen it, I'll include a little comment at the end with how much David is on screen or moments of interest.

Sites include: YouTube, Tubi, PlutoTV, Plex and Fawesome.

YouTube:

The Dark Side (1987) - A cab driver gets mixed up with a fare he picks up who turns out to be a adult film actress and she claims she has proof that the people she is working for are producing snuff films. Her claims seem to be validated when the cabbie notices suspicious looking people following them. (He's in a good portion of it but I remember being unimpressed with the movie as a whole.)

Night Heat - S3 E18 Simon Says (1987) - The exploits of the detectives of the Mid South Precinct, in a generic North American city not unlike New York (but a lot like Toronto), chronicled through the eyes of newspaper columnist Tom Kirkwood and his "Night Heat" column. (David plays a teenage prostitute. He's only in a few scenes spread out through the episode. It's a very dark subject matter so this isn't for everyone. Gotta say, 19-year-old David is beautiful.)

Friday the 13: The Series - S1 E10 Tales of the Undead (1988) - Ryan believes that a half-man, half-monster comic-book hero has come to life and is responsible for the murder of a shopkeeper. (He's in the first half of this cheesy, fun episode. He gets in a fight with Ray Walston - and loses.)

Pin (1988) - Isolated by his strange parents, Leon (DH) finds solace in an imaginary friend, which happens to be an anatomy doll from his father's doctor office. Unfortunately, the doll begins to take over Leon's life, and his sister's life as well. (He's the star and is creepy as fuck.)

My Secret Identity - S1 E2 A Walk on the Wild Side (1988) - The key component for Dr. J's latest invention is stolen by a group of wayward children. Andrew goes undercover and fakes loyalty to the gang in an attempt to recover the device, only to run into trouble when he meets the mastermind and leader of the gang, Rock (DH), who doesn't take too kindly to Andrew. (He's only in the end part of the episode but he's wearing a leather jacket playing a tough guy so you gotta watch it. Plus he's got a fight scene with Jerry O'Connell.)

T and T - S1 E16 Black and White (1988) - After his wife is attacked, Det. Jones thirsts for revenge. (He's playing another tough guy but this time he has great hair. AND he's got a fight scene with Mr. T.)

T and T - S2 E18 Thicker Than Water (1989) - The Brothers struggle to maintain their dance club only to be set upon by thugs, the neighborhood, the police, the Department of Health and the fire department. (OMG the hair! Big, black and reaching for the sky. You need to see it. The episode is actually pretty good and the band with the female lead singer is good too.)

The Penthouse (1989) - Dinah leads a charmed life with her father in a penthouse. Joe (DH), a friend from Dinah's past, breaks out of a mental hospital and into her penthouse to take her hostage. Can Dinah be saved while she tries to save Joe? (He's co-starring in this. He's suitably creepy. We get to see him wearing nothing but a towel and we get to see him juggle. Not at the same time.)

Where the Heart Is (1990) - A wealthy businessman shows his young-adult offspring how tough life can be. (He's one of the young adult offspring so he's in a fair amount of the movie. You've probably seen pictures/gifs from this where he's dressed like an angel flipping someone off or of his lovely bare posterior.)

Deep Sleep (1990) - Shelly, institutionalized following the death of her father, returns home desperate for answers about his death. Her memories return, revealing long-repressed dark family secrets. (He's the lead character's brother so he's in maybe a quarter of it. It's not a very good movie and David seems awkward in it.)

Scanners II: The New Order (1991) - A breed of humans known as The Scanners with dangerously powerful telepathic abilities are being recruited by a corrupt police commander in his crusade to take over the city. (I hate to say it, but the movie is kinda dull. I've put off watching it for ages because I was thinking it was going to be super gory and it really wasn't. There were a few gory bits but they weren't that well done which made is less gory somehow. His hair is styled badly and he's called 'pretty boy' twice I think but it kinda came out of the blue. Um, there's an adorable moment when DH heals a puppy but other than that it's kinda meh.)

Desire and Hell at the Sunset Motel (1991) - Right after Disneyland opens in Anaheim, California, in 1955, a toy salesman arrives in town a on for a toy convention. He brings his bored, beautiful wife with him. She's there so they can turn his business trip into a brief vacation, by planning a side excursion to visit Disneyland. They check into a nearby 1950s place four miles from Disneyland, a rundown place called the Sunset Motel, where affairs and sexual crimes among the motel guests quickly develop and cause trouble. But, that's not all, there's also get blackmail, beatnik style poetry, amnesia, and murder.

The First Circle (1991) - In the USSR, political prisoners who were scientists were not always sent to GULAG, but also to The First Circle (named after Dante's Inferno), a special incarceration unit near Moscow where they could work for the government. (This is uploaded into parts of about an hour a piece. The link is to the playlist.)

The Valour and the Horror (documentary) - S1 E1 A Savage Christmas: The Fall of Hong Kong (1992) - In the autumn of 1941, nearly 2,000 inexperienced Canadian soldiers were sent to Hong Kong at the request of the British government as a symbolic show of strength that would deter a Japanese attack on the colony. Canada's soldiers found themselves in the midst of a desperate battle they could not hope to win. (He only has a couple of moments on screen where he's playing a soldier reenacting letters home, but he's fantastic. The episode itself is very intense, so consider yourself forewarned.)

The Quiet Killer aka Black Death (1992) - When a teenage daughter of a wealthy New York City family returns home while feeling sick, nobody suspects a thing. At home, her health deteriorates quickly, resulting in a painful death on the streets before her Manhattan home. In the hospital, it does not take long before its discovered she's died of the bubonic plague and then its a race against the clock to locate and treat all the people who might be infected. (He plays a journalist who's after the truth! He's in the last half of the movie and has a couple nifty moments. He's got good chemistry star Kate Jackson.)

Forever Knight - S1 E10 Dead Air (1992) - Nick and Schanke are on the hunt for a deranged killer (DH) who brags about his crimes on a psychiatrist's radio show. Meanwhile, Nick has constant flashbacks to 1440 when he watched LaCroix torture a man for his own ends. (Back to creepy. But also poignantly broken.)

Split Images (1992) - A journalist knows more about a grizzly murder than is good for her. All her evidence points toward a mysterious millionaire but no one will believe her. (He's in maybe 2 minutes total, playing a cop, near the end of the movie but he's adorable. It was actually not a bad little made-for-TV-movie with Gregory Harrison taking on the creepy lead character duties.)

The Boys of St. Vincent: 15 Years Later - Fifteen years after the events of The Boys of St. Vincent took place, the various boys involved are brought in to testify against the brothers, now finally standing trial, who assaulted them when they were children. They are faced with revisiting the abuse and trauma they sustained as children.

Shining Time Station - S3 E4 Stacy Cleans Up, S3 E23 The Mayor Runs for Re-Election - At seemingly a ordinary train station in a small American town, extraordinary things happen including a tiny man called "Mr. Conductor" who tells stories about Thomas the Tank Engine and his friends. (He is so freaking cute with this huge black rim framed glasses. He also appears to be having a great time.)

Silent Witness: What a Child Saw aka Blood Brothers (1993) - A prosecutor tracks a gang murder to a Los Angeles youth who could name his own brother.

Monster Force (1994) - In the near future, Monster Force, a team of six teenager monster hunters, battle Creatures of the Night, monsters lead by the classic Universal monsters like Dracula, the Mummy, Wolfman and the Creature from the Black Lagoon. (The link is to a playlist which contains all of the animated episodes.) (This is a cute Saturday morning cartoon that I probably would have been into big time if I was in their target audience. It's hecka fun.)

Traders (1996-2000) - The show explores the intimate lives and loves of investment bankers whose high-stakes decisions and sizzling alliances can have grave international consequences. (The link is to a playlist which only contains the first two seasons.) (I've only seen the first season and David is heartbreaking in it. As I remember there's lots of close-ups of his eyes showcasing just have vulnerable Grant is. All five seasons are available to stream at Fawesome!)

Elevated (1996) - Ben and Ellen are thrust into adventure when Hank (DH), a blood covered security man of the building rushes into their elevator, claiming that there's a dangerous creature in the building. (This is a fantastic short film - it's like 15 minutes long. It's not super scary but it has moments of tension and David is fantastic. It's directed by Vincenzo Natali, who also directed the movie Cube.)

Cube (1997) - Seven strangers of widely varying personality are involuntarily placed in an endless maze containing deadly traps. (Very scary. Very disturbing. And oh so good.)

On the 2nd Day of Christmas (1997) - Trish (Mary Stuart Masterson) and her six-year-old niece, Patsy, make their living by picking pockets. But when they try to take advantage of holiday shoppers with fat wallets, they run into a little snag—a department store security guard named Bert (Mark Ruffalo) catches them in the act. The store owner wants them arrested, but decides to wait until Christmas is over. To ensure they don’t make a run for it, he entrusts their care to Bert. (David is featured in the subplot and is in quite a lot of this one but honestly after the first time I saw it I just skip to his scenes. Sort of has a fight scene with the Hulk, Mark Ruffalo. Wears a cast, a Santa suit and black hi-top Chucks throughout the movie.)

Clutch (1998) - Martyn (DH), an aging Toronto area college student with no degree yet to show for his so far ten years in college, has agreed to do an illegal job solely for the money: steal a rare book. In the process, Martyn ends up accidentally killing the owner. Not knowing what to do about the dead body, Martyn decides to take it along with the book.

Survivor (1999) - An Arctic oil rig crew discovers something strange far beneath the Earth's surface, which may or may not be responsible for the series of murders that begin to take place. (The plot is one we've all seen before, but it has a cast that is solid and it held my attention. It's a made-for-TV movie so very little gore, just a couple of bits of blood. It's mostly character reactions to what they're seeing. David has several nice moments with a character that's funny, endearingly awkward, exasperated, smart, reluctantly brave...)

The Life Before This (1999) - Several innocent bystanders are injured or killed when two robbers, fleeing from the police, run into the neighborhood cafe.

Chasing Cain (2001) - The drive-by shooting of a doctor and a woman who work at an abortion clinic leads Detectives to a suspect with ties to the pro-life movement.

And Never Let Him Go (2001) - The true story of a woman's suspicious disappearance after ending an affair with a powerful, married attorney. (This is one of my favorite mini-series. I giffed it a lot back in the day. Mark Harmon is marvelous as the creepy lead with David playing his baby brother. Oh and we get Paul Michael Glaser as a detective. Good stuff.)

The Triangle (2001) - A group of friends wind up in the Bermuda Triangle. (Eh. I've seen it twice and I can't tell you much about it. We get David in shorts wearing a bucket hat though so that's nice.)

Treed Murray (2001) - An advertising executive (DH), trapped in a tree by a gang of would-be muggers, manipulates them into fighting in order to save his life.

PlutoTV

The Penthouse (1989)

Scanners II: The New Order (1991)

Cube (1997)

Tubi

The Penthouse (1989)

T and T - "Black and White" (S1 E16), "Thicker Than Water (S2 E18)

Scanners II: The New Order (1991)

The Valour and the Horror - S1 E1 A Savage Christmas: The Fall of Hong Kong (1992)

Ultraforce - S1 E1 Prime Time (1995)

Plex

Scanners II: The New Order (1991)

Desire and Hell at the Sunset Motel (1991)

Silent Witness: What a Child Saw aka Blood Brothers (1993)

Cube (1997)

Fawesome

Scanners II: The New Order (1991)

Traders (1996-1999) - They have all 5 seasons of the show

Silent Witness: What a Child Saw (1993) - also known as Blood Brothers

Cube (1997)

Treed Murray (2001)

**********************************************************************

If there's interest, I can do a 2002-2025 reference list with links to free streaming sites of his work as well. (Or any of the Stargate actors actually.)

And if you haven't done so yet, go vote in my poll please.

[lunarmoves]

this gingerbread home

pairing: DCA sun/moon x reader

mentions: gingerbread house shenanigans, gender neutral reader (no pronouns used!), holiday goodness, not beta'd lol, sfw, post fire at the plex, relationship up to interpretation tbh

a/n: merry christmas @freakdoodles !! tis i, your secret santa! hope you enjoy this little fic full of cozy vibes and a gingerbread house gone wrong :3 happy holidays!

word count: 3.3k+

ao3 link

Your breath fogs against the window of your living room as you peer outside into the dark streets. Winter makes its presence known through the chill of the glass against your fingertips. Beyond it, snow falls gently to the ground to coat it in shimmering white. The deep blue shadows of the night dance across the layer of snow, chased away only slightly from the golden glow of a nearby streetlamp. 

You wiggle your toes through your fluffy socks, the warmth of your home seeping pleasantly into your skin. Faintly, you can smell cinnamon wafting through the air from the kitchen. You have half a mind to see what it’s coming from, but you are captivated by watching the tiny, crystalline snowflakes drift down from the sky. 

It’s a time before something moves somewhere behind you—reflected like a ghost in the window’s glass. You look over your shoulder just in time for a mug of something warm to take up the entirety of your vision. 

“For you, my dear!” Sun beams at you, gently nudging the mug against your cheek. The smell of cinnamon is stronger now, intertwined with something distinctly chocolatey. 

“Thanks, bud.” You give him a smile and reach up to grab the mug from his hand. It’s like cupping your palms around a small flame, warming your hands and sinking into your skin. You smile down at the small mountain of whipped cream topping the drink and hiding the rich, velvet brown of the hot chocolate. You take a sip—and immediately regret it. 

“Careful!” Sun warns with the hint of a snicker as he watches you stick your tongue out in dismay. The tip of it is a bright red. “It is still rather hot, I’m afraid.” 

“You couldn’t have said that beforehand?” You roll your eyes half-heartedly and instead scoop up a bit of the whipped cream with your tongue before reeling it back into your mouth. The whipped cream is cool as it melts sweetly in your mouth. Better, if minutely. 

“I would have thought it’d been obvious it was right off the stove,” he retorts with all the affection in the world, giving your shoulder a little squeeze. “I have sorely misjudged your eagerness, I think.” 

You sniff and go in for another, more cautious, sip. It’s worth the slight burn on your tongue, the chocolate deliciously coating it and causing something pleasantly hot to settle within the inside of your belly. You sigh happily and have to force yourself to take on a more mockingly somber tone as you mess with him. “And after all the time we have spent together…” 

Sun chuckles and wraps a lithe arm around your shoulders so he can gently pull you from your spot by the window. “And I thought I was the dramatic one! Enough of that, silly. I have everything set up and ready for us!” 

You grin, all sharp teeth and delight. “Oh, sweet!” Your gaze roves over to the living room as Sun starts to guide you there. Sitting atop the little coffee table in front of the television are the unpackaged materials of the gingerbread house kit you’d bought a couple of days ago at Sun’s insistence. Once he had seen it in the store, he’d been rather adamant about getting it for one reason or another. 

(“Come on, Sunshine!” he practically begs you as he holds the kit up in front of your face and wiggles it enticingly. “It’s the perfect activity to do together!” 

“Mmmh, I don’t know, Sun,” you say, pretending like you’re thinking it over. You’d been sold on the idea as soon as you’d seen him pick it up, but it’s still fun to tease him from time to time regardless. Not that you’ll ever admit that out loud. “It gets pretty messy and I know how you can get with messes…” 

“It’ll be fun either way!” he insists, tucking the kit under his sweater-covered arm so he can clasp his hands together and stare at you with wide, white eyes. “Just think about it: you, moon, and I making a little house together out of frosting and candy!” His voice takes on a bit of a dreamy, enchanted quality.

You hum, letting the seconds tick by as you put on a show of heavily deliberating it. You rub at your chin with your fingers. “Okay, fine,” you say with a smile, crossing your arms behind your head. “You’ve convinced me.” 

“Yippee!” he cheers and swiftly sets the kit into your shopping cart. His rays do a happy little spin that you find so utterly endearing combined with his eagerness. “You won’t regret it!”) 

Sun lets go of your shoulder once you both get close enough to the coffee table and you set your mug on a nearby coaster before plopping down onto the floor. Tucking yourself closer to the table, you regard the pieces of gingerbread and small packets of candy.

“Have you and Moon decided on how you want to divide the work?” you ask as you slide one of the candy packs closer so you can squint at the designs. This pack contains little green gummy Christmas trees coated in granulated sugar. Cute.

Sun lets out an “mmhm!” as he folds himself into place next to you—pretzeling his long limbs into fitting under the coffee table. His knee juts out slightly over your thigh, and you poke at it gently with a grin. It only makes him lean his leg’s weight further onto you—the checkered pattern of his red and black pajama pants contrasting against the deep blue of your own.

“We have come to the agreement that I would help with assembling the house and we would both get half of it to help you decorate!” he says proudly, splaying out one of his hands on his chest. The Christmas sweater you’d gotten for him hangs a little loosely from his skinny torso, but it’d been the closest size you could get for his disproportionate body.

“Moon doesn’t want to help with the, I dunno, ‘architecture’?” you wonder with a raised eyebrow, making small air quotes with your fingers. 

“Nnnnope!” Sun replies cheerfully. He reaches out to pull the materials closer to you both, his voice lowering into a not-so-quiet whisper as he leans down closer to your ear. “Between you and me, I think he’s just being lazy.” 

Knowing fully well that Moon is likely listening in on the conversation, you snort. “Yeah, that sounds just like him.” 

Sun only grins at the flatness of your tone and turns back to the table. “Alrighty! Enough stalling! This house isn’t going to build itself!” He grabs the gingerbread kit’s packaging and flips the box over to read the instructions on the back of it. “First we need to add icing along the edges of the walls…” 

The instructions seem simple enough. While you pipe icing in the designated places, Sun carefully sticks the pieces together and holds them in place for a few minutes so they don’t immediately fall apart. The smell of gingerbread overtakes the gentle hint of cinnamon from your drink. The bag of icing in your fingers is soft and pliable from Sun having defrosted it in warm water earlier. 

Once three of the four walls of the gingerbread house are standing, the instructions say to let them sit for fifteen minutes. Unfortunately for the gingerbread house, however, Sun is not that patient. 

“Bud, it’s barely been ten minutes,” you say in amusement as you watch Sun start applying icing to the last wall to attach it to the others. 

He waves a hand at you in dismissal, already pressing the last wall firmly to the edges of the previously erected ones. “It’s fine, Friend! Everything is still standing on its own, I do not think we need to wait that long.” 

The hint of impatience you can glean from his voice makes you huff out a small laugh. “I thought you liked to follow instructions?” 

“Yes, well.” His rays tick back and forth as he holds the walls together to let the icing settle properly. “In this instance we can take them more as a suggestion.” 

You think he just really wants to decorate the gingerbread house itself, considering that’s his forte. Rolling your eyes, you drawl, “Alright, if you say so.” Who are you to stop him? Hopefully the icing holds properly, though you can’t help but warily eye the skeleton of a house as you fiddle with the chain of one of your necklaces. 

With all the walls of the gingerbread house now assembled, it leaves the slanted roof to be carefully placed on top. You add the icing to the two pieces in the required locations, then lick off the extra that had gotten on your fingers (it’s sweet, almost overbearingly so) while Sun meticulously joins the pieces together to complete the bare-bones gingerbread house. 

“Okay!” he says as his hands hover just above the top of the roof, scrutinizing it to make sure the pieces don’t slide off. Miraculously, they hold. You’re a bit impressed. “How much icing is left?”

You show him the piping bag in your hands, and he contemplates it for a moment before nodding. 

“Perfect! Hand it over.” He opens a hand and makes a grabbing motion that causes you to chuckle to yourself. He’s got his game face on, determination lining all the intricate metal and silicon features of his faceplate. You set the bag atop his palm, and he closes his long fingers around it. “Now for the fun part!” 

You end up watching as he carefully squeezes a steady stream of icing from the bag to trace the outlines of the doors and windows on one side of the gingerbread house. It’s a bit captivating; he is exact with his application, the lines of icing neat and straight. He offers the bag to you at one point to see if you want to add icing along the roof, but you decline in favor of sipping at your still-warm drink and watching him. 

“Wow,” you say when he finishes with the icing. “It looks straight out of a stock photo.” 

He’s iced exactly half of the house right down the middle—even the front door only has half of it done. He really is sticking to the fifty-fifty arrangement with Moon. And honestly? He’s done a better job than you can ever hope to imagine. You would be envious, but well, he’s a robot. It makes sense. 

Sun looks proud of himself as he sets the icing down. “Of course! I am nothing but precise!” He reaches over to grab a pack of small candied leaves and pops it open. “And now, the decor~” 

You lend a hand and pop open a candy packet yourself—this one has tiny, multi-colored hard chocolates in the shape of Christmas lights. But after lazily sticking some of them into the icing Sun swirled along the edges of the roof and watching him fiddle with them afterwards—making them neater or swapping some out so the colors are in a better arrangement—you decide to let Sun take care of it all. You designate yourself to supplying him with the candy, finding amusement in his concentration as he makes a direct copy of the image displayed on the gingerbread house’s package. 

It’s almost scary how accurate it is, from the loops of icing on the roof to the gumdrops lining the windows. 

“Aaand done!” Sun exclaims as he wipes his hands of icing on a spare napkin and stands up. He observes the house from all angles and gives it a solid nod. 

“Looks great, buddy,” you compliment as you lean against the table. By now, your mug of hot chocolate is empty, and you secretly mourn the loss. 

“Now all Moon has to do is live up to my highly placed expectations,” Sun says brightly as he walks over to the light switch. He pauses, then adds sarcastically, “As I’m sure he will.” 

You grin, following his movement with your eyes. “Aw, don’t put him down when he’s not even here to defend himself.” 

Sun scoffs and places one hand over the switch, while the other knocks gently at his head. “I assure you, he is not even attempting to.” 

With a flick of his fingers, the lights go out. You avert your gaze as you listen to the shifting metal of his body. The living room is dark, but not overtly so. The lights from the small Christmas tree in the corner of the room are bright enough for you to see, but not so much that it will impede Moon, you think. 

Speak of the devil, you jump slightly when Moon plops himself down directly next to you and immediately leans into your space. 

“What a lovely gingerbread house,” he rasps out as his arm presses into your own, the bell of his nightcap brushing against your shoulder. You eye his expression—the mischief making itself known in the curve of his mouth and crinkle of his eyes. “Sure would be a shame if someone were to… mess it up.” 

“Moon,” you warn, shoving at him slightly so he can stop leaning all of his weight onto you. He relents with a snicker and rights himself properly. “Don’t you dare ruin Sun’s hard work.” 

“Wouldn’t think of it,” he drawls with a sharp grin, slouching forward as he grabs the icing bag from where Sun had left it atop the table. “One might say I would improve upon it, actually.” 

“Somehow I heavily doubt that,” you reply flatly and watch as he squeezes the piping bag in his hands. Some icing shoots out of the tip and lands haphazardly on Moon’s side of the gingerbread house. He doesn’t seem bothered by it. You have a feeling you know how this is going to end up. 

“Shh,” he says and spins the plate holding the gingerbread house around so he can better access its bare sections. Red eyes flick over it with no small amount of slyness. “Let Santa Moon work his magic, Starlight.” 

Five minutes into watching Moon apply icing to his half of the gingerbread house, you realize by “magic” he meant “utter chaos.” 

He doesn’t even bother to make his lines neat—in fact he seems to be actively going out of his way to be as sloppy as possible. Whereas Sun was careful not to make too much of a mess on the table, Moon does not care. Icing gets everywhere. Crumbs from the gingerbread litter the area around the plate. You watch as a small ball of candy rolls off the table and lands somewhere on the plush rug covering the floor. Sun’s going to have a conniption with this—may already be having one, actually.

You’re more amused than anything, especially when Moon finishes with the icing and starts slapping the candy everywhere on the gingerbread house. There is no rhyme or reason to it, just utter vibes, you think. He passes you a packet of the tiny Christmas lights candy, and you join in helping him to decorate his half—trying to salvage it at least a little bit. 

The resulting gingerbread house, at the end of it all, is something that makes you break out into peals of laughter. 

“Oh god.” You chuckle, wiping your fingers off on a napkin. “It looks awful.” 

And indeed, where one side of the gingerbread house is neat and perfect, the other looks like it came straight from an elementary schooler’s nightmare craft project. The juxtaposition makes you snicker to yourself.

Moon grins, his eyes flicking down to his hands to observe the icing covering his fingers. Somehow, he’s gotten a dollop on his faceplate. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” 

You snort and gesture at him to lean down. He obliges, the warm light from his optics gently caressing your face as you reach up to wipe away the icing near his static smile with your napkin. And when you pull away, his faceplate almost seems to chase after your fingers before he stops himself and instead watches you attempt to clean up the table. 

“Okay, fun’s over,” you say lightly as you eyeball all the crumbs. It may be a good idea to run your vacuum around the table as well, considering. “Help me clean thi—” 

But before you can finish your sentence, your eyes catch onto the gingerbread house—that tips precariously to one side as the roof pieces start to slide inevitably downwards. 

“Oh shit—!” Your hands dart forward in an attempt to catch the falling pieces. Icing gets re-smeared all over your hands. Candy gets displaced as your fingers fumble around them. You do your best to straighten the gingerbread house, grimacing all the while. Ah, you had a feeling this was going to happen.

Moon giggles as he watches your vain struggle to fix what he and Sun had worked so hard on (Sun moreso than Moon). You manage to get it standing properly again, but one of the walls has collapsed completely and the others look like they aren’t faring any better now that the icing is giving in. 

You sigh, feeling a wry smile tugging at your lips. “I knew we should’ve waited the full fifteen minutes.” Not that you think that would have made much of a difference. 

“Down it goes~” Moon croons, not even lifting a finger to lend some assistance. His eyes are upturned in delight as he sways slightly side to side. “How the mighty fall.” 

“Yeah.” You pull your hands away and watch, slowly, as the gingerbread house collapses into itself and lays on the plate in a sad heap. Moon is silent as he watches with you, though you can tell he wants to laugh. It makes you suppress your own chuckle. “You think there’s any salvaging that?” 

“No,” is Moon’s short response as he pokes at one of the gummy Christmas trees, then picks it up to mime eating it. You do a nose exhale when his eyes flick over to you to see if you’re watching. 

“Well, what does Sun think?” you ask, feeling your lips twitch at his antics.

“He is mourning.” 

“Pfft, sorry Sun.” You make a move to run your hand through your hair, but catch yourself when you see the icing coating your fingers. “Ah, that’s okay. It was fun while it lasted! We can do something else.” You turn to look at Moon, who meets your gaze with his own curious one. “Any suggestions?” 

There is a moment where Moon regards you, his head tilting to the side. Then, you watch as his pupils flick down to his icing-covered hands before looking back up at you. His smile stretches across his faceplate. 

Oh. You know that look. 

“Moon,” you warn as you scooch away from him. “No. Don’t even think about it!” 

“Think about what?” he asks slyly, starting to lean your way. 

“Abou— Moon!” 

You are too slow to dodge his swipe at your face—icing gets smeared from the corner of your mouth and up your cheek. Faintly, you can register its sweet taste. Your jaw drops open at the audacity of it all, and you scramble up to your feet to put more distance between you and him lest he repeat the action. He doesn’t follow you, only slowly stands in his spot as you shuffle backwards whilst giving him the stink eye. 

“Moon, I swear to god if you do that shit again,” you threaten him as you hold your hands out defensively in front of you, “I’ll—” 

“You’ll what?” Moon asks with a mischievous grin, already bending at the knees in a pose that you are all too familiar with. Uh oh. His eyes squint into ruby slivers. 

Your mouth closes, and you ponder your options for a few seconds before giving him a short nod. “Okay. Yeah. I’m gonna run now.” 

“Good,” is all he says before he abruptly lunges towards you. 

And as Moon chases you throughout your home, the poor remains of the gingerbread house are forgotten and replaced by the sound of your laughter and the gentle tinkle of his bells.

[redskull199987]

What about a Mike x fem!reader where reader helps mike through one of his nightmares?

Lifeless Stars

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request

Word Count:1.6k

Warnings:very angsty again, but also lots of fluff and comfort too, I also may have added Abby a bit into this because I love her and I wish I had a sister like her:,), also Movie spoilers

Summary:After the events at the Pizza-Plex, You and Mike both have problems coping with what happened. But at least you have each other…and a sweet little Girl, whose goal it was to make you smile again...

Masterlist

You felt tired. Terribly tired actually. The Sun had long disappeared behind the Horizon. The House was quiet and all lights were shut off, as the entirety of your little family had withdrawn behind the warmth and comfort of your blankets. 

And theoretically, you should have been asleep. But much to your dismay, you weren’t. You had been awake for hours, downright tired to the verge of passing out, but sleep just wasn’t able to find you.

Maybe it was because of what had happened a few days ago at the Pizza-Plex. The events were still burned into your skull, the images still vivid and every time you closed your eyes, it didn’t take long before that damn Golden Bonnie crept his way up into your dreams. You supposed, that was the reason you were unable to sleep tonight.

With a sigh, you quietly tried to sit up while not waking up Mike, who had his head laying on top of your shoulder and his arm slung around your waist. As cautious as possible, you pushed him off of you and stood up. You looked at Mike once more and gently pulled the blanket back up to his face again, before making your way into the kitchen.

 ‘Maybe a cup of tea could help’, you thought. And you seriously hoped it would. Your last resort would be Mike’s sleeping pills, but you really didn’t want to use them, knowing of how much trouble they always brought Mike.

So, without turning on the lights, the house only illuminated by the shine of the Moon, you stood in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil, so that you could put on your tea. Your eyes wandered all over the room, gazing at the various pots and plates that were standing in random places. Abby’s drawing of you guys and the kids on the fridge or the Picture of Mike and his brother, when he was still alive. You sincerely hoped that he had found peace too. That he was in a better Place now, looking down on Abby and Mike with a smile on his face while patiently waiting for the day of their reunion.

The sound of the tea pot pulled you out of your thoughts. Quickly, you poured the steaming water into your cup and set it down on the kitchen table to let it cool down a bit, so that you would not burn your tongue when drinking it.

With another heavy sigh, you walked over to the couch and flopped down on it. Your body felt heavy. Too heavy. With a small hiss, you lifted your shirt, taking a look at your still healing injury. Mike might have had it worse than you, but Afton had still managed to nab at you with his damn knife. You got way more lucky than Vanessa though, since she was still in the Hospital. You really hoped that she would wake up soon, so that you could thank her properly. If it hadn't been for her, you would probably all be dead.

A noise from your bedroom suddenly caught your attention. With furrowed brows, you swiftly jogged back through the dark hallways. You could swear, it almost gave you a heart attack, when you abruptly ran into Mike, causing the two of you to stumble to the ground.

“Mike?”, You groaned quietly, blinking in the dark trying to spot him,”Mike, are you okay?”

You didn't receive an answer, but instead, you felt a pair of hands, searching for your own in the darkness.

“Mike, I’m here.”, you mumbled, reaching out for your boyfriend. Your hands hastily found his shoulders and pulled him closer to you. Only now, you noticed that he was trembling. His breathing was fast and heavy and he was slightly sweaty.

“Mike..”, you whispered, lacing your fingers with his,”Come with me.”

You quickly pulled him to his feet and guided him to the bathroom. Once you were inside, you switched on the lights and closed the door. You saw how Mike slightly flinched away, as soon as the dim light illuminated the room. You gazed at him with concern on your face, before motioning to the bathroom counter. He quickly understood and sat down on it.

With your eyes still on Mike, his hands were still trembling, you grabbed a cloth and held it under the water, before coming back to him.

With a reassuring smile on your face, you slowly stepped in between his legs. Mike almost automatically grabbed your waist, pulling your body closer to his.

“Hey.”, you tenderly grasped his cheek, making him look at you. Without another word you raised the cloth to his face, slowly wiping the sweat off of his forehead. Mike only closed his eyes, seemingly just trying to enjoy your sweet touch on his face.

“What happened?”, You finally asked, when he had calmed down again. His hands were no longer trembling anymore and his breathing had returned to normal. 

“I had a nightmare.”, Mike explained, his gaze now focusing on the ground,”I dreamed that..that, I wasn’t able to save Abby. That they took her, just like Garret. And I couldn't do anything. I was just staring like a useless piece of shit-”

“Mike.”, you said firmly, turning his face back to you,”Don’t say that. It was just a dream. Abby is safe. She’s with us. Nothing can happen to her.”

Mike didn’t say anything in return, so you tried something else instead of just talking to him. You swiftly raised your other hand, but not to his face, but to his chest. Your palm rested right above his heart, that you could feel beating rapidly. Mike only looked at you in confusion.

“Mike..”, You mumbled, searching for the right words,”What I can feel under the palm of my hand, is the Heart of a Big Brother, that’s only beating for his sister. A heart that’s beating because it’s owner decided to stay alive for his sister. To be there for her and give her the life she deserves. And not only for her, but also for me. I know what you did to save us and I will be forever grateful for that. So are Abby and Vanessa. You saved us. We’re alive because of you, Mike.”

You could feel tears well up in your eyes, because as you said them, you realized how true they were. You owed Mike your life and you would forever be grateful to have him in your life.

“I love you.”, was all that Mike was able to mutter in response, before he pulled you into him by your waist, connecting your lips in a sweet and tender kiss. You felt him holding onto you tightly and as you parted, he gently leaned his forehead against yours.

“Thank you, Y/N.”, Mike mumbled, kissing you once more on your temple.

Your sweet moment was interrupted, as you saw the lights in the hallway suddenly go on. Mike and you only looked at each other for a second, before he jumped off of the bathroom counter. He pulled you behind his body, as the two of you quietly walked over to the door. With one final step, you walked into the hallway and all your tension quickly dissolved into relief, as you saw who the culprit was.

Abby was sitting at the Kitchen table, sipping on the tea you had made earlier.

“Hey, you little thief.”, You smiled and sat down next to her, “That was mine.”

Abby looked at you apologetically, but not really:”Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”, you smiled and ruffled her hair affectionately.

“Why are you up, Abbs?”, Mike asked, also sitting down next to the two of you.

“Couldn’t sleep.”, the girl answered shyly,”So, I drew a picture for you guys.”

Wordlessly, she slid a piece of paper over to you and Mike. The two of you looked at each other for a second, before glancing at the drawing. Your heart bloomed with joy, as you realized what it was.

In the drawing, you could see Mike, Abby, Vanessa and you playing together. It looked like Hide and Seek and while Mike was the Seeker, Abby, Vanessa and You all hid from him with a smile on your faces.

“That’s really beautiful, Abby.”, you mumbled, trying not to tear up.

“Let's put it on the fridge, hm?”, Mike suggested and promptly did what he just proposed.

Abby only smiled at you and instantaneously jumped up, giving you and Mike a big beary hug. You could only embrace the girl in your arms. You had grown so much closer over the years and you were extremely grateful for that. You really did love her like a sister,

“Let’s all go to bed now, shall we?”, Mike proposed,  a smile now also on his face.

Abby and You could only nod, as sleep was now finally catching up to you. You could barely remember what happened afterwards…

Bonus:

Your eyes only opened reluctantly, but the sun had been poking your face for a while, so you decided to give it a shot. But as you tried to sit up, you realized that it was of no use. This morning, you did not only feel the weight of one body on you, but two.

 You blinked around a few times, before realized what was going on. Abby had asked to stay with Mike and you for the Night, so that she could fall asleep faster and thus here you were. With Mike clinging onto your left side and Abby onto your right.

But all you could do was smile at your little family and close your eyes again, pulling the two of them closer. You really were grateful for everything. And you always would be.

[glamrockmike]

ggy/dr rabbit design sorta… i think that after freeing vanessa from glitchtrap and escaping the plex he uses his own mask one last time to help set up MXES

plus some gregory headcanons and sketches… i am working out how to draw him and i know my younger self is so happy but i still got a few more tweaks to my art style in mind

full canvas lol

[veethewriter]

Monty x reader! Requested by @ifyouwontlistenwhowill

Summary: reader starts working at pizza plex to earn money for college, works at montys gift shop, Monty slowly starts falling in love with the reader.

Day one: 11:31 A.M.

You stood outside the pizza plex nervous for your first day. I mean your job was easy, just selling stuff at the gift shop for Monty's Gators Golf, handing out any prizes if they had been won by people. People ugh that's the thing you were most worried about, was the large crowd. Taking a deep breath you walked in looking for the person that was supposed to show you around. Noticing someone waving for your attention, you quickly walked over, going through the crowd of people checking into the pizza plex.

The person in front of you quickly introduced themselves, quite cheerful for being at work. He grabbed your hand shaking it, "Hi! It's so nice to meet you! I'm Dave I'm the manager of the side of the building that the gift shop you will be working in is at!"

Smiling nervously shaking his hand back, introducing yourself also, "Hi it's nice to meet you too, I'm y/n."

Dave let go of your hand and smiled, "Well then let's get started with the tour then."

Day 1: 2:28

After having gone through the tour of the half of the building you would be on, you finally got to Monty's Gator Golf. He quickly showed you around the gift shop and how to work the cash register before looking back at you, "Okay one last thing before you can start, I need to introduce you to Monty since you are working in his attraction. You're gonna see each other often."

Before you could respond he gave you a serious look, probably the most serious one you've seen on him all day before saying "I will warn you though, Monty has anger issues. He usually doesn't show it until after hours but still be careful."

Now you were even more nervous than before, I mean you thought it would be easier to talk to the animatronics than other people but one with anger issues you had no idea what would happen. Dave started to walk away so you took that as a clue to follow after him. Finally finding Monty, who had just finished talking to a group of kids about the rules in Monty's Gator Golf. Dave had waited until the kids walked away before walking up with you to him.

He nervously smiled at Monty who had already started basically glaring at him, "Hey Monty I came to introduce you to the new person who will be running your gift shop."

Monty looked at you from over his sunglasses before making a scoffing-like sound and starting to walk away while talking, "I don't care what you do, just do your job."

Dave looked back at you and smiled, "Don't take it so rough, he's usually like that towards most people."

A little upset about how the first meeting went, you just nodded to Dave before he lets you go to open the gift shop.

Day 3: 8:03 A.M.

You sighed as you were opening the gift shop, your first day went okay, nothing really happened. You had your second day yesterday which also was uneventful besides Monty keeping a close eye on you. He didn't seem to want to interact with you though, just make sure you weren't up to anything bad. You were setting up all the stuffed animals using a ladder that had been in the back. Even with the ladder, it was hard to hook the small straps that kept the stuffed animals from falling.

Having to reach up higher, the ladder started to shake underneath you before giving up. With a quick scream and closing your eyes as you fell instead of feeling the ground, you felt metal. You opened your eyes and realized Monty was the one to catch you. He quickly sat you down and growled softly towards you "Be more careful about what you're doing."

Before you could respond Monty had started walking away and some other employees had swarmed around you to make sure you were okay. You thought maybe Monty was nicer than everyone said he was.

Day 11: 4:07 P.M.

You sighed looking at the time, noticing the shop was empty at the time you decided to go ahead and stock up on some small things that were out. Going over the shelves you noticed that the Monty pens were completely out and you knew from this morning you had stocked the last of them that were out in front this morning. Which means you would have to go in the back to grab a whole new box of them.

Now that you thought of it, your and Monty's relationship had gotten a little better, with small conversations here and there but it was mostly with you just talking. He would make small noises here and there to tell you he acknowledged what you said though. Shaking your head, you head to the back to look at the boxes. Only to your disappointment when you noticed the box you needed was at the very top.

You can't use the ladder, in fact you haven't seen that ladder since you almost fell off it that one time and since then all the plushies have been hooked up when you got to work. Climbing the shelf would only make it fall over on you. Standing on your tippy toes you could almost reach maybe a bit- suddenly you felt cold metal touch your back as a hand reached over you to grab the box you had been reaching for, feeling what felt like breathing on your neck for a second before it pulled back. You turned around seeing Monty as you tried to calm down the blushing on your cheek from how close he was a second ago.

As you were about to thank him, he handed the box over to you, "Next time ask for help, no need to get hurt over a box."

You nodded quickly and stuttered to him "Ri-ight thank you again for the help."

He just nodded and left heading back into his attraction. Wait what was he doing back here now that you thought of it, was he looking for you?

Day 26: 6:08 P.M.

The gift shop was closed for the next hour for you to restock items and clean up since they were too lazy to hire extra staff to do that while it was open. As you were cleaning you found a discarded club for Gator Golf. Picking it up you had decided to go ahead and return it but you didn't know where they went so of course your best choice was to give it to Monty himself.

Now you two were able to have full conversations with each other with him actually talking, well at least a sentence or two here and there. You two would talk about small things though mostly about instruments and hobbies. Making sure the gift shop was locked up while you were out you had started searching for him. Looking around you finally saw him watching over everyone near a wall, probably having just gotten back from one of the bands night performances.

Walking over to him you spoke up "Hey Monty, I saw this club at the gift shop and thought I would bring it back to you."

Having heard your voice Monty looks over at you and sees the club that you reached out to hand him but seeing that, he also saw the slightly torn-up bandage that was on your hand, "What's that?"

Noticing that he was looking at your hand, you looked down and remembered what happened this morning, "Oh um I hurt my hand moving around some boxes this morning, just scrapped it a little It's nothing bad."

Rolling his eyes he takes the golf club in one hand before grabbing your uninjured hand with his empty hand. Putting away the golf club nearby and continuing to walk you stop to ask "Um where are we going?"

Growing softly at you in a non-threatening way of course, "To a medic station your bandage is ripped and with you working plus sweating so much you're gonna get it infected if it's not wrapped the right way."

You smiled to yourself as the both of you continued to walk. You knew they were wrong, Monty was just a big softy after all....

Well um, you can tell Monty is my favorite... 😃🤭 Anyways I didn't know what to do with the room thing so I didn't add it but I still hope you like it!

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

“You’re scared…. and broken…” With, literally any of the Glamrocks after Ruin(preferably Eclipse and Monty)-

"N-NO!! STOP IT!! BAD GATOR!! BAD GATOR!!!!"

Hearing the terrified shrieks of a certain daycare animatronic, you were quick to rush into the garage, stumbling upon a rather frightening scene:

Eclipse, who reverted back to Sun, was on the floor as Monty's teeth were latched onto his leg, violently tugging on it in an attempt to shred what little remained of the tattered striped material. The gator snarled all the while, shaking his head around while the former kicked and screamed.

It didn't take long for you to figure out how to separate the two, grabbing a metal pipe and tapping it loudly against the wall to get Monty's attention on you for a second.

"Montgomery Gator. Let him go NOW!!"

Upon hearing his name, he let go of Sun and stared at you, shrinking away as you approached. With a huff, you tossed the pipe towards the furthest part of the area. "Go fetch."

As he crawled away, that gave you a chance to examine Sun for any serious damage. You kneeled down, frowning as the traumatized animatronic was whimpering at the current state of his other leg--arguably the only "good" leg he had remaining.

'Jesus..I can't leave these two alone for even a second..'

"Are you okay?" You asked worriedly. "Is your leg still functional?"

"Yes, but alas....p-pretty patterns are all ruined now..." He bemoaned. "No stars..no stripes...all gone. No more..."

"Sun, I promise I'll get this sewn up for you. But listen...I warned you not to go anywhere near Monty." You set a gentle hand on his knee. "Why did you go near him?"

"I....we just wanted to say hi! I-I didn't think he'd hurt me! He used to be so nice! S-Sure I might have called his music too loud, but he didn't seem offended by it!!"

"What he did to you wasn't anything personal." You shook your head, sighing. "He's not himself. He's gone...completely feral now. Do you know what that means?"

He was still for a moment, before shaking his head.

"It means he's not gonna know who you are. You all have been stuck there for so long that...he's acting on animal instincts now. He barely even knows me anymore."

"..so..you mean....he thinks he's actually a gator?"

"Exactly." You nodded. "And until I can figure out how to restore his original personality, we'll have to treat him as such."

Sun remained silent, his gaze wandering back to Monty. He was gnawing on the pipe. It wasn't much, but it stopped him chewing on anything else in the garage, such as the important Fazbear Ent. equipment you stole from the plex.

It's not like anybody was going to use it anyways.

"It's not fair to him...o-or me. Why did this have to happen to us?"

"..I don't know. I wish I knew why, Sun." All you could do was shake your head, feeling sad that you couldn't simply repair them both like nothing even happened.

Like they weren't left to rot in that mall for years.

Your exploration of it was still fresh in your mind.

While you couldn't track down Chica, Roxy, or Freddy...you were able to at least find Eclipse and Monty, convincing them to come home with you as it was a lot safer.

Eclipse was more than willing despite being worried about when the children will return to the daycare, whereas Monty just started following you randomly, always being at your heels like a protective guard dog.

He was your favorite out of the Glamrocks, so maybe part of him remembers that--hence he never attacked you.

Unfortunately you had no idea how he would behave around Eclipse, considering you just rebooted him after Sun and Moon were fighting for control nonstop. The two were in obvious pain with the lights being broken in the daycare, so you were lucky to have a fazwrench on you at the time.

But the strangest thing during your time working for the pizzaplex was that you never knew Eclipse even existed as a character. The company never talked about him, and not a single advertisement (old or new) mentioned him anywhere.

There was only ever Sun and Moon.

Regardless, you were glad to officially meet him and see his balanced personality--with Moon's calmness and Sun's optimism

Unfortunately Monty had some fit of aggression when he tried talking to him, sending him into a panic so bad that it made him switch back into Sun. Now you weren't sure how to bring Eclipse back to the forefront without doing another reboot...as that apparently caused Moon great pain.

The gator, as feral as he was, seemed guilty for what he did as he stayed huddled in the nearest corner of your garage. You could clearly see that he didn't mean to attack Eclipse; he just couldn't control himself.

"[Y/n]...a-are we monsters? Is that why nobody comes to see us anymore?"

Those heartbreaking questions almost made tears spring to your eyes, before you turned back to Sun, taking his hands into yours. "No. Neither of you are monsters. You're scared...and broken. But I'll try my hardest to put you back together. You, too, Monty."

"Grrahhh..?" He perked up at his name, dropping the pipe and crawling over to you when you beckoned him closer.

At first the attendant was panic-striken, almost hyperventilating even. But then he saw him abruptly stop beside you and was confused for a moment.

You smiled sadly and patted Monty's head, feeling what little remained of his red hair. "It's amazing that your mohawk is still attached to you, pal."

He chuckled at that, before looking to Sun and huffing. Although he couldn't speak anymore, the guilt was clear in his body language, something that was quickly understood by the solar animatronic.

"Awh, it's okay, buddy. We can still be friends!" He giggled, mimicking your gesture and patting Monty's head, albeit with great caution.

Fortunately, he didn't bite his hand off this time.

All you could do was continue smiling, being a watchful observer of your two (technically four) favorite characters who you were relieved to have rescued.

'Looks like there's hope for them yet.'

[amarynthian-chronicles]

Moth to a Flame, Maiden to a Jester

(Happy birthday Starrie!!!!!!! Here is some whimsical cuteness for you to enjoy, sending you all the best wishes and love! You are absolutely amazing and I am so grateful to have you as a friend!! @starriegalaxy )

Eventhough there were still several days left until Halloween, the Plex was adorned with all sorts of ornaments for the upcoming celebration.

Grinning jack-o-lanterns glowing in every nook and cranny, all of them bearing a suspicious resemblance to Moon himself. Beautiful pumpkins were placed near hay stacks in spare corners of each location, crimson leaves decorating the walls, all to mimic the glory of Autumn.

The light effects were magnificent, galaxies and moons on each ceiling, not unlike the beauty you could find in the Daycare area. The Glamrocks has been given plenty of costumes to choose from and they were set to perform in them all up to Halloween night. Monty had even been given the liberty to indulge more into playing variations of gothic rock.

Candy was given to children, along with all sorts of other treats such as pumpkin pie, chocolate cupcakes with delicious orange-flavoured buttercream, pizza slices with toppings sliced to form little scary faces. It was all very adorable.

You, on the other hand, had made an attempt to preserve some semblance of professionalism. You had patrols and paperwork to deal with. Even in the eve of the day of your birth.

However, it seems that the celestial Daycare Attendants, also known as the resident menaces to local society, begged to differ, and they had decided to make your shift filled with whimsy and shenanigans.

The other animatronics seemed to be slightly distracted when you had attempted to talk with them or get an evening report. Freddy did his best to remain as kind and wholesome as ever, but you could tell he was hiding a little secret.

Chica was chirping about all sorts of topics and very obviously trying to distract you. Bonnie and Roxanne had comically pushed Monty into the nearest ballpit as he was about to mention a secret he was supposed to keep quiet about. You had a vague idea of what the whole fuss may be about, but you had decided not to inquire further into it.

Currently, you were passing by the Daycare, confused to see that there was a little note on the gates indicating that you should make your way to the theatre area instead. To your great surprise, there was also a beautifully wrapped-up package waiting next to the gates as well.

Curious, you picked it up, finding another note, the elegant handwriting simply saying "wear this". You blinked.

"Ridiculous, I do not have time for this."

Still, having a soft spot for the silly jesters, you had decided to humour them, carrying the package to your little office station to inspect its contents. Words could not express your reaction as you opened the box, revealing a regal dress, delicate pink silk combined with ethereal blue tulle material, miniature crystal stars adorning the fabric.

You must have been in a daze as you were carefully placing the dress on, too shocked to even question how absurd the whole situation was. It was only after you had fully adjusted the garment that you also noticed the fabric in the back made an effect as if you had star-speckled wings. You resembled a celestial fairy.

You were too busy blushing to even question how on earth those sly jesters had gotten all of your measurements correctly, since it was more than obvious that the dress was custom-made for you.

Now, now, do not lose yourself in the magic, remember the professionalism you wanted to uphold. You will pay the boys a short visit at the theatre and then continue with your work.

This plan of yours was once again placed to the test as you encountered an entire little pathway of roses and golden lanterns strewn in the corridor that led to the theater area. The lanterns cast various patterns of stars all across the walls. It was all marvellous to behold, and you leaned forward to gently pick up one of the roses, smiling as you noticed that it had a velvet ribbon tied to the stem.

"Silly, silly."

You entered the theatre, noticing that Sun was meticulously practicing for a show he had been previously asked to do for the children later that week on Halloween night.

His eyes glowed as he noticed you, pupils flashing a manic silver. His perpetual grin seemed to widen, sun rays spinning joyfully. Your cheeks burned as you noticed the intense yearning that graced his features, as if you were his deity.

"Starlight dearest, maiden mine, do join your humble jester, darling divine! The entire Fae court would envy your beauty tonight, I see you found one of our many gifts!"

"What is all this, Sun? "

"A little birdie had informed me that today is the day of your birth. You dared to hide this from us, silly, silly! Not a single secret shall remain uncovered, there is no escape from our affections."

You raised your eyebrow at him. Still, you accepted his hand as he helped you climb up on the stage.

"Birdie, yeah, right. You hacked into the systems and checked my birth date, didn't you?"

"Perchance. Vanessa makes such predictable passwords. Always something about rabbits."

You smirked, unwilling to let him think he had the upper hand.

"We all have our preferred animals, sunflower. I like kittens, she likes rabbits, and we are all bad at remembering complex passwords."

"Speaking of which, the council of my brothers and Yours Truly had decided that we should start associating you with something other than a kitten. Considering how beautifully you fly towards our radiance, we officially proclaim you our celestial moth. Forever enchanted by our light."

You could not help but laugh.

"More like I go into your general direction because my navigation system is broken. Where did you even get this dress from?"

"We made it, my darling moth fairy."

Your eyes widened and you needed a solid second to process what he had just said.

"Wh-wha-?"

"Meticulously sewn and cut, each thread bearing traces of our love, every bit of fabric echoing with whispers of "I love you, I love you, I love you", until pure perfection was created. The wings were especially fun to make, Moon had made them as delicate and beautiful as possible, fit for our nocturnal butterfly. Pink for dusk, blue for the upcoming night, gradients of violet and the stars for where light meets darkness."

"Sun, I honestly have no words, I cannot-"

He pressed a finger to your lips to shush you.

"Relax and enjoy the little show we had prepared for you."

Blinking in shock, you nodded slowly.

Sun made a bow, before suddenly snapping his fingers and the stage lights began to rhythmically flicker, creating an effect of many spotlights being present at once. He danced between light and shadow, seamlessly changing into Moon each time he entered the area of darkness, then returning to Sun once more.

They danced and made such pirouettes that any ballerina would be jealous of, reciting poetry dedicated to the spirits of All Hallows Eve all the while.

One by one, golden and azure lanterns began to turn on and illuminate the auditorium of the theatre, casting images of suns and crescent moons all across the area. It was so ethereal and beautiful, the whole show crafted with such love.

Suddenly, you saw a fleeting glimpse of a phantom plushie in the corner of your eye. You looked to your left, but there was nothing there.

"What the-?"

A few seconds later, several galaxy moth plushies were present on stage behind Sun, only to disappear the moment you blinked. As soon as Moon was present, he pulled you into a waltz, his wicked smile betraying him and you were certain that he knew something about the mysterious plushie invasion. You raised your eyebrow at him and he merely giggled.

"What is the matter, beloved?"

"You couldn't resist pranking me now, hm?

"I have no idea what you speak of, starlight."

His eyes were glowing with adoration and desire. The pace of the dance had become slow and almost hypnotic, lulling you and making you rest in his arms. His claws ran through your hair, playing with your tresses, and you squeaked as he began to whisper sweet nothings to your ear.

"How fortunate of a spider am I, to have such a pretty moth come to my glowing web. I shall keep you captive forever."

You were about to give a sassy remark, but he changed the pace of the dance and dipped you like a true villainous gentleman, stealing a kiss. To his surprise, you wrapped your arms firmly around him, deepening the sweet kiss, showing your own passion and power that could rival his own.

Moon was more than overjoyed, and he lifted you back up, never breaking the kiss, but gently spinning the both of you as the stage lights interchanged once more, creating a beautiful transformation cycle as you were kissing now Sun, then Moon, then Sun, and Moon all over again, celestial infinity.

At a certain point, as if reaching a heavenly zenith, the magnificent Eclipse came forth, as if an ancient king had awakened from his dominion. An additional pair of hands were now holding you in his powerful embrace. Lover, guardian, companion, he offered his entire being to you.

Breathless, you finally broke the kiss, gently placing your hands on either side of his faceplate.

"You three...certainly know how to make an impression."

"You had graced us with your presence upon this earth and it is only logical that we would wish to celebrate this day the way you deserve, precious maiden. We have the whole night planned out."

"What about my patrol and duties?"

"Everyone has already been informed, dear soulmate. In fact, they are all here."

"What?"

The lights went on as you heard the merry cheers of all of your animatronic friends and staff bots appearing, everyone carrying platters with cakes, food, and, of course, lots and lots of galaxy moth plushies and other gifts for you.

"SURPRISE, Y/N! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

You almost had tears in your eyes as you felt warmth in your chest, seeing all the loving and familial gazes of your dear found family. Freddy, Chica, Roxy, Bonnie, Monty, the happy faces of Gregory and Cassie, all the staff bots and the chef bot, all of them gathering to celebrate your existence. Even Vanessa, cranky as she was, was standing there and holding a moth plushie for you, as well.

You smiled, your heart at peace and mind at rest, knowing you were surrounded by those that loved you most.

You were a moth and you had chosen your true home, the one with the warmest light.

[imagine-darksiders]

On the Ropes

Chapter 25 - Uninvited Guests

Montgomery Gator X F!Reader

WARNING:

-Noncon touching, inappropriate behaviour, abuse of authority, implied s/a, self-doubt, mild threat

Summary: Tempers flare, emotions are high and boundaries are tested. You worry, but Monty worries more. He just isn't as good as expressing it as you are.

Sorry this one took so long. A few months ago, my parents made me a partner in their company with a view to take over the whole damn thing when they retire, and I've had to learn how to run a business without a lick of experience in the field, so that's been taking up a lot of my life lately. I'm still finding time to write, but it is harder.

Still! I hope a nice, long, juicy chapter full of angst and fluff and hurt/comfort makes up for the hiatus. Love to the brim. X

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

As ideas go, Monty concludes that his latest might have been best left on the backburner, never to see the light of day. He hardly dares move, locked in place by his own mechanical parts as he stares down at you on the sofa, and you in turn, gawk up at him, your eyes still wet and shining with tears.

And for all his artificial intelligence, for all the state-of-the-art programming slapped into his circuitry, the most eloquent response he can conjure up in the face of his own blunder is a weak, faltering, “Uh…”

But what else could best encapsulate the jarring realisation that he’s been caught? He hadn’t really fathomed being caught at all, hadn’t even considered what he might do if he was caught.

Well, too little too late now, he supposes. There’s no way he can simply duck back through your open window and feign ignorance when you inevitably return to the Plex to confront him…

…. Could he…?

… No, no. Definitely not.

Closely observing your expression, the gator’s proverbial stomach sinks as your face begins to lose all aspects of shock and instead turns towards something more closely akin to anger, unpleasant in its familiarity, and Monty realises he’s running out of time to come up with a believable excuse to explain away his presence here, as if a 'good' excuse even exists.

Brows scrunching together, your jaw creaks shut, teeth meeting with an audible ‘click,’ that pulls an involuntary flinch from the gator’s tail.

He can handle Mick being angry with him. He can handle Andy and that exec, the staff and guests and all of their cross words and scathing looks.

Yet for some reason that he dare not examine, the very notion of you pointing your wrath at him fills Monty with a dread so palpable, he’d swear the coolant in his hydraulics freezes solid. The irony of the revelation doesn’t escape him. Until now, he’s spent so long being angry at everyone around him without sparing much thought as to how it must feel to be on the receiving end.

Beyond the threatening wave of apprehension cresting over him, he can still hear the sizzle of water against a hot stove-top somewhere nearby – the very culprit that had landed you on the floor, and him here in the first place - and in his eagerness to set things right again, Monty latches onto the one task he’s at least semi-certain he can’t mess up.

He doesn’t break eye-contact with you, not until he’s edged his way into the little kitchenette and finally tears his gaze from yours to spin around to the stove, knocking his tail against the fridge with a jarring clang of metal. He winces at the force, hoping he hasn’t dented it.

Grimacing at the knobs and dials sitting innocently on the cooker, he elects not to tackle them, instead reaching out to engulf the saucepan’s entire handle in a single fist where he simply lifts the whole contraption off the stove.

At once, the water boiling within its metal confines eases to a manageable simmer.

“Monty…” When his name leaves your lips this time, it’s deeper, colder, with the barest tremble flecked into your voice. “You… you can’t be here…”

The gator has enough sense not to bark out a nervous laugh at the century’s greatest understatement.

Clenching his fingers around the handle, he carefully plops the saucepan down near the back of the stove, away from the burning, red ring of heat. Excess water still dribbles in tiny rivulets down the side of the counter, but he turns his processor away from the mess by physically twisting himself around in the cramped space until he’s facing you once more, clutching his hands up to his yellow chest plate.

“You can’t be here,” you reiterate thinly, your eyes blown wide and pupils small and dark like pinprick holes, locked in his direction.

Then, with the suddenness of a bullet firing from a gun, you explode into motion.

Lurching over at the waist, you swipe your discarded crutch from the floor and begin shoving yourself gracelessly from the sofa with such fervour, Monty is momentarily struck by the ludicrous idea that you might be on your way to attack him.

“Of all the-! the stupid-!” you sputter, slamming the crutch’s rubber foot into your carpet and heaving yourself upright, wobbling across the room on an unsteady leg, “Dangerous! Irresponsible-!”

You continue hurling out adjectives and lumbering forwards, and Monty – suddenly alarmed that you’re about to topple face-first into the carpet again – kicks himself into gear. His pistons carry him across the room in a few, loping strides where he meets you at the edge of the kitchen linoleum, mindlessly throwing both of his enormous palms around your waist to steady you.

Almost at once, you latch onto him roughly, your fingertips squeaking against plastic as they attempt to gather purchase around a too-thick wrist.

“Monty!” The acrid taste of panic steadily trickles down the back of your throat. “Monty, this isn’t funny! I’m not kidding! This isn’t funny, you cannot be here!”

But Monty isn’t laughing. And although you sound borderline hysterical, there isn’t a trace of humour in your expression either. Maybe you hope it's a practical joke, or that you're seeing things. Anything except for the gargantuan reality peering down at you from behind star-shaped sunglasses. 

“I know,” is all the gator can muster up as a reply. Because he does know. He can’t be here.

And yet, he is.

“Then what-” you snap, “-the fuck are you doing here!?” It’s the first time you’ve really raised your voice at him, and there’s a sharpness to it that tucks the animatronic’s snout down towards his chest, rendered contrite in the face of your reprimand. Something deep in his subroutine starts to hum, discontented. Perhaps it’s the fact that the shoe is on the other foot now, and this time, he’s the one on the receiving end of someone else’s anger.

Another tear spills over to clump your eyelashes together.

Whirring loudly behind his glasses, Monty’s optics track its path over the swell of your cheek, and again, he creaks his jaw open, hoping something more substantial than his previous answer will miraculously come to him. As it is, he merely utters a soft, “I… don’t know.”

Evidently however, that had been the wrong thing to say.

For several seconds, your mouth flaps open and closed in disbelief before your face screws up into a tight ball of incredulousness and you manage to shrilly proclaim, “What do you mean you don’t know!?”

You snatch your hand away from his wrist to rake trembling fingers through your hair, digging into your scalp with the tips of blunted nails. “Oh god, oh god… This is bad, this is bad! You’re…”

Trailing off, you lean away from the animatronic, shoving a palm against his solid chest and giving your head a harsh shake, as if you might somehow throw the whole situation from your mind. Even as you pull away, his hands retain their firm point of contact on your sides.

After a beat of silence, you go still once more, blinking up at the gator and confirming that, no, you aren’t imagining the hulking, green goliath towering over you, looking far too large to occupy the space between your ceiling and floor. “Monty, for god’s sake,” you say through gritted teeth, “You’re in my flat!”

“I.. I know this looks bad-” he tries, removing a hand from your waist, palm tipped towards you in a placating gesture, “But, it’s okay-“

“- In what universe is this okay!?” you fret, batting at the massive paw that stretches towards you, “Monty! You’re outside the Plex! If you’re caught, they’ll-! Christ! You could be decommissioned! Is that what you want?!”

“I wanted to make sure you got home,” he emphasises.

“You can’t do that though!” you almost wail at him, shaking your fists beseechingly as if to beg him to comprehend your desperation, “You understand why you can’t do that, right?!”

“I was just-!” There’s a sudden buzz of static as he cuts off his own voice box, rendering the end of his sentence effectively unspoken.

But he ought to have known you aren’t about to let him get away with silence, not when you’re so clearly distraught and prying for answers.

“What, Monty?!” you exclaim, pinning him with your glare like a butterfly to a corkboard, “You were just what?!”

The gator’s jaw works mechanically, grinding the gears on their pivots as he clenches and unclenches it. He’s unwilling to give up the vulnerable words that have lodged themselves in his voice box, words that seem far too soft coming from the mouth of an animatronic with an unmalleable frame.

The only sound to break the silence is the steady ‘drip,’ ‘drip,’ ‘drip,’ of your leaky faucet.

“Montgomery,” you snap when his silence starts to overstay its welcome.

And the gator, despite his best efforts, flinches.

Plastic eyebrows slot together with an audible ‘clack’ as Monty lowers his optics to the carpet at your feet…

You’ve fallen back on his show title.

It’s a… rather decisive step away from the nickname he asked you to call him. The chasm that stood between you and the gator was wide when you set foot his green room not so long ago, yet in spite of first impressions, that gap has slowly been closing up over the last few days.

But now? Calling him ‘Montgomery,’ and in so terse a tone feels too much like the rift has just inched a few notches wider again.

Perhaps it’s that solemn, borderline desperate urge to regain what precious ground he’s lost that drives him to finally lift his gaze from the carpet and aim it somewhere near your glistening eyes instead.

“Just… tryin’a do what you did for me…” he utters.

Your face immediately untwists, brows launching up your forehead as everything about you opens up in clear surprise.

Whatever excuse you’d been imagining, he hadn’t provided it.

“What?” The question squeezes out of your throat, rasping and tight.

Hiking up the volume in his voice box, Monty retorts, “You came to make sure I was okay at the Plex. I-I’m just… doin’ the same thing!”

Sputtering around half-formed words for a several seconds, you finally manage to exclaim, “There is an astronomical difference between a human going to their place of work, and an animatronic up and leaving the place they were built, Montgomery, you can’t even try to pretend there isn’t!”

You’re well aware that comparing your autonomy to his own is a little below the belt, but the truth, whilst certainly ugly, is still the truth.

“Andy can tear me a new one for not going home after surgery,” you continue frantically, “But that’s nothing compared to what Faz Co. will do to you if they find out you’ve gone awol! And that’s not even the half of it! I mean - What if you run out of charge!? Or – or!”

As you steadily approach the line between distraught and thoroughly panicked, your voice begins to rise, cracking at the apex of your sentence, hypotheticals darting relentlessly through your head.

“What if someone saw you!? How did you even get here! Oh, fuck, Management’ll scrap you for spare parts, or - Damnit, Monty!” you blurt, ducking your head to try and meet his downcast optics, “Are you evening listening to me!?”

He is listening, as a matter of fact, quite intently. Though his visual feed may not be focused on you, the gator is hanging on your every word. But it isn’t the realisation he could be decommissioned that’s caught his attention. He already knows that the outcomes you’ve just listed are very real possibilities, should his little escapade ever be discovered.

No, instead, it’s the clear and undeniable fear laid thickly in your voice that grinds his processor to a halt. It sits on your tongue like a glaze, shining brightly for him to pick up on, and wonder how he missed it in the first place.

This isn’t anger.

This is something else dressed up to look like anger, and the tragedy is, it’s a disguise he knows all-too well, so well, in fact, that he should have recognised you’d donned it the moment you opened your mouth to speak.

You’re afraid.

If animatronics were built to house spirits, Monty’s would be tentatively lifting their heads. However, the revelation that perhaps he hasn’t driven off his best and only friend is cut woefully short when all of a sudden, his audio receptors give a ping, alerting him to new input approaching from a nearby source.

Without warning, the gator’s head snaps towards the door of your flat, mechanical clicks filling the unexpected silence as his optics adjust to the change in distance.

Footsteps… heavy and unhurried, slowing as they draw nearer to your door…

“Monty?” you hiss, distractedly following the line drawn by his glare, “Don’t try and-“

‘Knock.’

‘Knock.’

‘Knock.’

Three deliberate raps on your front door cause any further arguments to shrivel up and die at the back of your throat. You stop breathing altogether, and every noise suddenly seems too loud in the ensuing silence.

‘Who the Hell-?’ you wonder, dumbfounded, ‘-It’s the middle of the night!?’

No sooner has the thought occurred to you than a finger of ice-cold dread drags a chilly path up the notches on your spine, right to the fine hairs prickling at the nape of your neck.

Like a jackhammer, your heart rams itself up against your sternum over and over again.

‘He couldn’t have… Shit. Could he? But... How?’

“Y/n?”

You’re too slow to clamp your mouth shut around a gasp when you hear the voice, muffled but undeniably masculine, calling out from the other side of the door. Monty’s silicone lips ripple apart, though he at least has the forethought not to push an audible growl through his speakers.

The voice, however, doesn’t sound as though it belongs to the… the person you thought it might have belonged to.

You can’t place it straight away. You’re only sure that you know it from somewhere, but with several centimetres of wood standing between you and it, details are distorted and difficult to pinpoint.

Another knock startles you again, even more-so when it’s followed by, “Are you in there?”

A pregnant pause stretches until your teeth start to ache from keeping them pressed together so firmly.

And then, the words you thought you’d never have to hear again filter through the cracks beneath the door. “I thought I heard shouting.”

There’s an instinct that rises from buried depths at the utterance, instincts you thought you’d put to bed long ago.

It's as though someone has lit a fire under your feet. Mechanically, you twist around towards the sofa, your eyes locking onto the remote controls sitting on its arm rest. Limping up to them with stilted, frenetic movements, you snatch them up and aim them at the television, jamming your thumb into the ‘on’ button with far more force than necessary. Plastic creaks beneath your fingertips.

Seconds later, the screen flickers to life, landing on a film you don’t bother to try and recognise. Hiking up the volume until the tinny sound kicks out of the speakers and fills your meagre living space, you toss the remote back onto the sofa cushions and make your way arduously to the door.

Yet another knock indicates that your late-night visitor is persistent, you’ll give him that.

Several steps from the entrance, your progress is stopped by a sudden wall of green stepping in front of you, blocking your path forward.

“Move,” you rasp through gritted teeth, too quiet to be heard over the television as you smack at the gator’s tail that’s trying to curl around your thighs.

Monty’s head swivels around to frown at you. The purple casings surrounding his optics slide half-closed to give you the impression of a beseeching look.

You wonder if he knows who’s at the door.

“Hello? Y/n?” the stranger calls again.

“I - just a second,” you blurt out, ignoring Monty’s grimace as you bully your way past him, using your crutch to keep him from stepping around you lest he risk tripping you over, “Sorry, I’m... still getting the hang of these crutches.”

You have half a mind to demand to know who the Hell would have the unmitigated audacity to come around and knock on your door at this time of night.

Behind you, Monty’s claws try to hook into the back of your shirt, but the fear of accidentally tearing anything you own keeps him from holding on with any real purpose. As such, it’s only too easy to slip out of his grasp and press your eye up to the peep hole, the blood in your ears rushing to a watery crescendo.

A distorted yet familiar face peers back at you through the glass, sweat glistening off a ruddy forehead that shines under the overhead lights.

“Mick!?” you burst out.

What in the name of God...

Whirling around to face Monty, you throw an arm out, gesturing wildly towards your bedroom door.

The gator’s jaws are clenched tightly enough that you suspect if you were to toss a lump of coal between his teeth, he’d spit out a diamond, and while his tail twitches back and forth in clear agitation, he doesn’t otherwise move.

“Ah, you are there,” your not-so-mysterious visitor exclaims, “Mind opening the door?”

Yes, you mind! You mind very much! What is he doing here!?

Unless…

Your head turns slowly over a shoulder to gape unblinkingly at the animatronic looming close behind you. Your eyes find his, your stomach clenches…

“Hello?”

“Uh, just… hang on a second!” you stall, fumbling and fiddling with the metal latch, pretending to fight with it whilst you cast another, desperate look back at the gator. “Damn lock is always getting stuck.”

The moment his optics catch your eye again, you mouth, ‘Please’, jerking your chin at your bedroom door, ‘Please. Hide.’

Ever so slowly, Monty blinks, taking in the harsh lines that cut crevices down the centre of your forehead, right between your furrowed brows. And just like that, the corners of his snarl start to fall, and the apertures of his pupils expand to hide blazing, crimson LEDs.

A thousand calculations run through his processor at once, all of them pertaining to the risk of leaving you to face Mick by yourself. His programming shrieks in defiance as he takes a reluctant step backwards, being light as he can on cumbersome actuators.

He should stay… Neither of you know why Mick is here, though he can hazard several guesses.

You’re afraid, you’re vulnerable… You need him.

But probability reminds him that perhaps the situation isn’t so dire. He's sure he hadn’t been spotted on his way here, and if he was, why would Faz Co. send Mick – of all humans - out for retrieval?

What if the man's being here is merely down to chance?

If that's the case, then should he catch you with one of the Glamrocks in your home, the repercussions will be far worse than whatever Monty fears could happen by leaving you to deal with the situation alone…

So, driven back by the urgent glimmer of tears shining over your sclera, Montgomery Gator begrudgingly makes a decision that goes against his very programming. He retreats from the room, slinking backwards as silently as a two-tonne bot can through the door and into what he can only assume must be your personal recharging station.

All the while, you watch him over the threshold, waiting until the gator’s hefty bulk disappears into the darkness of the room beyond. Even still, you wait for him to push your door shut with an undetectable 'thud' before you finally wrench the lock on your own door free and tug the whole thing open, remembering to plaster a tentative smile on your face just in the nick of time.

“Mr Matthews,” you grind out sweetly, praying that the television in the background covers your stumbling addition of, “What a… a nice surprise!”

The man on the other side of the door straightens his posture at once. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s keeping one arm behind his back as he too slaps a grin on his face, though you imagine his is slightly more authentic than your own.

“Y/n, my dear,” he returns, revealing his hidden appendage and, to your surprise – and confusion - producing a fistful of limp, strikingly dark dahlias, the kind you might pull off the bargain shelf at your nearby petrol station.

 “I wasn’t sure you’d be awake,” Mick continues, edging towards you until the toe of his winter boot pokes over the threshold, “But I was in the area and thought I’d stop by to see how you were doing.”

With the flowers practically shoved under your nose, you try to surreptitiously lean backwards, putting your weight on the crutch as you reply, “O-oh, that’s, ah, very kind of you…”

Can he hear your pulse thundering? Oh god, can he see the dilation of your pupils? Does he know who you have hidden in your bedroom? He must… He has to. Why else would he be here?

Almost running on autopilot now, you continue, “You didn’t need to come all this way though. Um…” Trailing off to bite at the inside of your cheek, you hedge, “I didn’t realise you knew where to find me.”

To anyone with even a modicum of self-awareness, the statement is poised as a direct question, in expectation of an answer. ‘How did you know where I live?’ is being broadcast from every facet of your voice and expression.

But Mick, clueless or perhaps deliberately obtuse, merely lowers the flowers an inch and replies, “Oh, you’ve mentioned it to me a few times now.”

… Have you? It’s… entirely possible, you suppose. After all, you talk about a lot of things at work, and subsequently, you forget about a lot of things too. But who would remember all the small talk you make with co-workers, or the unimportant comments you toss out while you’re responding to ‘check-ups’ from management?

Your home address however… It took you a long time to even tell Andy where it was, in case of emergencies… You can’t imagine it’s something you let slip without noticing.

But… Mick is here…

So how else?

Shoving down the frustration at yourself for being careless, you clear your throat and nod at the flowers. “And, can I presume those are for…“

Mick jumps, staring down at the dahlias clutched in his fist as if he’s only just remembered they’re there. “Oh, yes of course they’re for you!” he proclaims, “Of course, of course. Only courteous to give flowers to people in need of healing, no?”

You blink at him mutely, pretending not to notice the excess oil he’s slicked into his hair tonight.

Is that why he’s here? To bring you flowers? Is that all?

Part of you wants to slump with relief. Another part however, older, wiser and sadder, remains cautious.

“Well, again, that’s really kind of you,” you tell him, reaching out to take the flowers from his hand. The stems seem to breathe elated sighs as he relinquishes his iron-clad grip. “I’ll have to find a vase for these…”

You’re not sure you even own a vase…

“Naturally,” he replies, peering over your shoulder to quirk a brow at the television blaring behind you, “Ah. Movie night?”

“Hmm?” Following his gaze, you rush out, “Oh yeah, I figured… since I’m off tomorrow and the foreseeable future, a little late night wouldn’t kill me…”

Would it be rude to ask your senior why he’s bringing you flowers at this time of night? Maybe you can tell him you were just about to turn off the TV and go to bed?

As you deliberate how best to tell the man on your doorstep to make himself scarce, he surprises you by abruptly asking, “May I come in?”

‘No!’ your own voice screams at you from inside your head, ‘Just say no!’

“I’m not sure that’s-“ you begin tactfully, but Mick is already bustling forwards, crowding you until you take a slight step to one side. After that, well… You’ve given him an inch, he’ll take a mile, as it were.

Once he has a literal foot in the door, Mick sweeps past you, moving breezily into your living area and roving his gaze all over the room, hands planted on his hips. “Goodness,” he remarks, cocking his head at your bare walls and sparse décor, “You don’t get much on a cleaner’s salary, do you? You haven’t put that… ahem, bonus to good use yet?”

You want to bristle like a cat that’s been kicked.

Mick’s jab is unmistakable, but his awareness of his own civility is not.

Swallowing back a retort, you simply murmur, “Hadn’t gotten around to it yet. I’ll go and put these in some water.” Truthfully, you’re still reeling from the fact he’d just invited himself inside.

Hobbling towards the sink, you delicately lay the flowers in the washing-up bowl and turn on the tap. An angry ring of red light catches the edge of your vision, and you glance over at the stove-top, clicking your tongue as you reach over and turn the cooker’s dial to the ‘off’ position.

Teeth find the inside of your cheek and bite down on the fleshy wall, worrying at it while you wait for the bowl to cover half of the flowers’ stems.

‘Monty knows better than to give himself away,’ you assure yourself, trying to pretend you can’t feel those eyes prickling at the back of your neck, ‘And it’s getting late. Mick’ll want to get home soon. This isn’t anything other than a concerned manager delivering well-wishes to a member of the staff.’

‘There’s a guest in the house,’ a voice that isn’t entirely your own pops up, unbidden, ‘Offer him a drink.’

“Can I get you anything?” you blurt out, turning off the dripping tap and swivelling about to face Mick, “Coffee? Tea?”

The man throws you a look, barking out a laugh. “My word, someone’s got you well-trained,” he chortles.

The moisture dries up in your mouth. He likely assumes he’s referring to your upbringing, or maybe your schooling, but his statement hits far too close to home and sends phantom prangs of alarm through your brain, fizzing like electricity.

But just as your head starts to feel light…

“No, nothing for me,” he sighs, entirely oblivious to the cracks forming in your outer veneer as he nods pointedly at your television, “Although, uh, TV’s a little loud, no?”

“O-oh, yes,” you give a start, wobbling past him, “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company.” That one was a little barbed, but you think it’s more than justified, given the circumstances.

Making your way to the sofa again, you reach for the controls, intent on swiping them off the cushions, but you freeze in your tracks when your eyes land on the overturned coffee table to your left. The coffee table Monty had knocked aside in his haste to get at you after you collapsed…

Behind you, Mick of course, has already seen it.

“Doing some redecorating?” he comments.

Thinking on your feet, you resume your task of picking up the remote and turning the television off, plunging the room into an uncomfortable silence once more. “No, just… had to move it earlier to do some exercises the physician recommended.”

Mick ‘ah’s’ in apparent understanding whilst you elect to deliberately leave the table where it is, tipped on its side.

“You wouldn’t believe how much space it takes just to do some stretches,” you add, “I haven’t gotten around to moving it back.”

You make a concerted effort to keep your eyes from drifting towards your bedroom door, painfully conscious that the gator must be standing just on the other side, head pressed to the wood to follow the flow of conversation.

“Mm, I can imagine,” Mick grunts noncommittally, and as you return your attention to him, you’re just in time to see him helping himself to a seat on your sofa, breathing out a long, languid sigh as he glances up at you, ruddy cheeks pushing out in a smile. “Come, sit!” he insists abruptly, as if it isn’t your sofa that he’s inviting you to. “Rest that leg of yours, you must be tired.”

If only he knew how terribly his suggestion puts your back up and sends your pulse skyrocketing.

All of a sudden, from the direction of your bedroom door, there comes a soft, nearly inaudible scraping sound, not unlike claws dragging across wood.

To your horror, Mick’s head starts turning towards the noise, but quick as a flash, you draw his focus by stretching your jaws into a wide, obnoxious yawn and settling down on the opposite end of the sofa, leaving a respectable distance between you both.

Covering your mouth with a palm, you loudly proclaim, “Oh! Oh, excuse me. I suppose I have got one foot in bed already.”

You try for light-hearted, miss and land on uncomfortable instead. But if Mick gets the hint, he doesn’t outwardly acknowledge it, merely hums and pulls a handkerchief from the pocket of his shirt, daubing at a glistening temple.

As you perch awkwardly on the edge of the seat, you keep a firm grip on your crutch and make every conceivable effort to avoid casting any wayward glances at your bedroom door. If there’s even the slightest chance that Mick isn’t here because of Monty, then you aren’t keen on blowing your cover.

“So,” the man next to you starts conversationally, clapping his hands down on his knees, “You’re holding up all right, then?”

Shrugging a shoulder, you reply, “As well as I can be, all things considered.”

Mick purses his lips, head bobbing sympathetically. “Mm, I’m sure that’s the case,” he admits, “Bad business, that attack in the tunnels. Very bad business…”

Bad business, or bad for business, you wonder.

And talk about an understatement. You have to sternly remind yourself not to scoff.

His mention of the ‘incident’ however does raise a certain flag at the back of your mind as it occurs to you for the first time that Faz Co. wouldn’t be above sending someone to make sure you’re sticking by the non-disclosure agreement. You wouldn’t put it past them…

Is that why Mick is here? Second guessing yourself for the umpteenth time, you take a deep breath and gently try to steer the conversation towards something of real substance. “I… signed the exec’s paperwork, by the way… So, you don’t need to worry. The matter’s done with, so far as I’m concerned.”

The fact that you now have enough money to start looking for a nicer place to live is certainly motive enough to keep idle gossip to yourself.

In response, Mick only tips his head back and barks out a laugh, “Of course you did,” he chuckles, shaking his head at you, beaming, “You’re a damn good woman. You work hard, you keep your head down. You do your job, and you do it well. You’re loyal…”

Trailing off, he twists himself about at the torso to face you, the smile sloughing off his face as he adds, “Loyal enough that you’d come to the Plex the day after you were carted away in an ambulance.”

With gradual unease, your fingertips curl into the sofa cushions.

Whatever expression you pull must be dire indeed because Mick immediately drops his serious façade and lets out a chortle, leaning across the sofa to give your knee a pat just a few inches from the top of the cast, apparently too amused to notice that you blanch.

“Now then, no need to look so spooked,” he tells you, “I’m not here to lecture you about what you should and shouldn’t be doing following a major incident. I just thought I’d mention that I saw you today-“

You can barely focus on his voice. He’s allowed his clammy palm to lay like a lead weight upon your knee. It’s still there. Why is it still there? The temptation to kick your leg out as if to shoo away a bothersome fly is awfully prevalent.

“I must say,” he carries on, oblivious to the way your gaze drills into the back of his hand, “I was impressed by your dedication to the company. I’d have come over to say ‘hello,’ but…”

Breaking off to torture you with a pregnant pause, the man’s jovial expression collapses, turning sour. “Well…” He clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “Then I saw you were with the gator.”

Right there on the sofa, your heart seizes up.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with that gator recently.”

‘He knows,’ you fret, flicking a frantic look at the door to your bedroom. The evidence is stacking up against you. Why turn up now, and why mention Monty at all?

Fingers trembling, you start the process of falling apart right next to him, debating whether or not to just get it over with and come clean when he suddenly furrows his brows at you and – at long last – draws back, retrieving his hand from your leg. “You need to watch yourself around that bot. You hear me?”

Relief and shock war for control for several seconds as you gape at him, only remembering to snap your jaw shut once you realise it’s been hanging awkwardly ajar for far too long. Swallowing thickly, you try to smooth down your bristling nerves and stammer out a clumsy, “I-I’m sorry?”

“I’m not the only one who’s noticed, you know,” Mick surges ahead as if you hadn’t spoken, “Most of the staff are starting to talk. A lot of the guests too. And now there’s that video going around…”

Your eyes are starting to ache with the effort of keeping them affixed to the manager, not your bedroom door.

“It’s no secret that it’s taken a real liking to you,” he grunts, “And the way I see it, that puts you at the most risk.”

Suddenly, you find it much easier to pay attention. Several, rapid blinks put Mick at the centre of your focus as you politely admit, “I’m sorry, I… I don’t follow.”

The look he gives you is decidedly pitying. Heaving a slow sigh through his nose, he roves his gaze up towards your ceiling as if he means to pluck the right words out of thin air. “Listen,” he begins patiently, like a teacher trying to explain something basic to their struggling student, “Bots don’t just… change like Monty has. I mean, what’s it been? Less than a week? And it’s gone from causing countless incidents of property damage and snapping at every staff member it sees to carrying one across the plex?”

He puffs out a derisive scoff and shakes his head, lips pursed. Then, leaning forward, he links his fingers together and props both elbows on top of his knees, glowering hard at the blank television screen. “I’m not buying it,” he utters darkly, “Sooner or later, its old ways will start kicking in again, and when they do, who’s the person directly in the firing line?”

Peeling one hand away from the other, he curls it into a fist, extends his forefinger, and aims it right between your eyes.

There’s something so inherently disconcerting about the action alone that you physically draw back from the man on the sofa, leaning away and eyeing his hand as though you’re staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. But at the forefront of your mind – and a sudden source of great contention - is his implication that Monty is any kind of threat to you. Perhaps you wouldn’t be feeling a thrum of defensive indignation if the gator himself hadn’t been in the other room, no doubt able to hear every word Mick is saying about him. As it is, your chest starts to buzz with the desire to correct the man’s assumptions.

Peeling a dry tongue from the roof of your mouth, you slowly press out, “With all due respect, Sir-“

“-It’s Mick, doll. Just Mick.”

You try not to pull a face at his interruption. “Mick,” you start again, “With all due respect, I think that’s a bit unfair to Monty…”

At once, surprise opens his expression, smoothing the wrinkles between his brows as they go shooting up his forehead instead.

“Unfair?” he deadpans.

“I just mean that he’s been trying very hard to do things right lately, and we shouldn’t dismiss that just because he's had a few bad days, right?” Instances of breaking into your apartment notwithstanding. “Christ, Mick, he saved my life from that en-“

Mick’s beady eyes narrow at you.

Clearing your throat, you carefully amend, “… from that intruder.”

For several seconds, you watch on as the man’s face twists up once again into a frown, and he purses his lips at you, exhaling roughly through his nose. Leaning sideways across the sofa, he puts himself close to you and raises a finger into the air, wagging it at you in a manner that you really don’t care for.

“One example of the ‘correct’ behaviour doesn’t negate all the harm that bot has otherwise done,” he tells you firmly, “To the brand, to the plex…” Trailing off, his eyes gloss over as they drift to the back of his hand, staring at something you can’t see. After a moment, he quietly adds, “To me.”

Glancing sideways to find you fixing him with a strange look, he pushes out a cough. “A-And it certainly doesn’t prove that it’s safe. Never trust a dog that’s bitten once not to bite again.”

“Monty’s not a dog,” you point out, your brows set in a stern, unyielding line.

“No,” Mick agrees sharply, “It’s a two-tonne animatronic with a history of violence and a penchant for causing trouble wherever it goes.”

All at once, you bridle, clenching your fist around the crutch. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re in your own home that gives you a shot of courage straight through the chest. If Mick had confronted you with these accusations at work, you can’t deny you might have been a little more hesitant to retaliate. As it is, he came into your flat uninvited, he sat on your sofa and started bad-mouthing your friend…

 “Now hang on a moment, that’s just plain wrong,” you retort, “Monty hasn’t caused any trouble for me, and in fact, he’s gone out of his way to help me these past few days – quite a lot, actually.”

Somehow, Mick’s brows travel even further north towards his slicked-back hairline. He blinks, surprised, either because of your sudden and admittedly barbed defence of a bot you’ve only known for a few days, or because he hadn’t expected you to show him your backbone at all.

You quiver angrily on the opposite side of the sofa, heavy eyelids protesting the late hour whilst Mick blows a noisy breath through pursed lips, regarding you with newfound interest.

“Now then, there’s no need to get yourself all worked up,” he soothes cloyingly, “I didn’t come all this way to upset you.”

The willpower it requires not to bark ‘I am not upset!’ is tremendous, even more so to fake an apologetic smile and reply, “Of course you didn’t. Sorry, it’s just been a long day.” And getting longer with every second Mick sits there, behaving as though he’s done nothing untoward simply by being here.

“I’m sure it has,” he remarks.

And then… something happens. Something that sets the synapses in your brain firing off alarm bells left right and centre, paralysing you in your seat.

Without a word to announce his intentions, Mick shuffles himself along the sofa cushions towards you, closing the very deliberate gap you’d wedged between the pair of you minutes ago.

“If I’m being perfectly honest with you,” he begins in a low murmur, and you wish he wouldn’t be honest at all if that’s how he intends to speak, “I’m sorry I ever sent you into that damnable gator’s room in the first place. I mean, granted you’ve saved the company thousands in repairs since then… But… Ah, forgive me, perhaps this is unprofessional but…”

His already soft voice dies to absolute silence as he stretches his hand across the distance between you and sets it down on your leg once more, just above your knee - nowhere an uninvited hand ought to have any business treading.

You can’t tear your eyes off it. All the moisture in your throat has dried up, all the breath in your lungs stays trapped.

You’re not angry anymore.

“I simply wouldn’t forgive myself if that gator hurt you, you know,” his voice sounds muffled, half-drowned out under the blood rushing in your ears, “I’m only looking out for you.”

You’re scared.

He’s sitting close, too close, close enough that the smell of smoky cologne is suddenly clogging up your airways and sticking to the back of your throat when you inhale.

“Can you blame me for worrying though?” he asks, rubbing his hand up an inch as if he’s testing the waters. Sadly, your limits have been pushed before, further and further each time until the bad things just became mildly uncomfortable things, and the really dreadful things were simply better to ignore.

“You really are a very good worker. But that animatronic isn’t safe.”

Your breath catches in your gullet when you swallow, and even now, after all your experience and the hurdles you’ve cleared, you start to doubt yourself. Perhaps Mick really is just concerned. He certainly sounds it. You could be finding horror in something entirely benign. He’s a manager, he knows better.

He’s a molehill and you’re sitting here wondering if you should make him into a mountain.

Fingers twitch against your skin and you blanch, prying your jaws apart to… what? Scream? Tell him to get his hand off you? He hasn’t technically done anything wrong. You let him inside…

All of your senses come flooding back to you suddenly as a strange sound catches your ear; a latch clicking out of place, a handle turning inwards. Ears thrumming with adrenaline, you at last manage to rip at least part of your concentration off Mick and train your hearing towards your room instead.

Luckily for you and the idiot gator trying to stealthily open your bedroom door for some, inane reason, Mick seems far too preoccupied with catching your eye to even register the noise.

He’s looking for a reaction.

The appealing idea that this might just be one big misunderstanding starts to wash away bit by bit.

You cast your mind about, mentally searching the room for something – anything to derail the direction of his goal. When that fails, you reluctantly allow your gaze to wander from your television to the front door, over to the kitchen and then down to the flowers poking over the lip of the sink…

Flowers…

A stray gear in your brain chugs to life, kicking out a single, blessed idea.

“Hah!” you wheeze out breathlessly, forcing a wobbly smile onto your reluctant mouth, “You’re starting to sound like Andy. He worries about me too.”

There. It’s only for an instant, but out of the corner of an eye, you see Mick’s expression falter. “Flowers?” he asks.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, “I’m surprised you didn’t arrive with him actually.” Feigning an expectant glance at your front door, you school curiosity onto your face and add, “You didn’t see him on your way up, did you?”

Mick’s hand starts to raise ever so slightly from your thigh, too slow for your liking, yet you grit your teeth and bear it for a while longer, like you always have.

“See him?” the man blinks, “I… no? Why would I have seen him?”

“Oh, it’s just, he texted me before you knocked on the door. Said he’d be here in another ten… fifteen minutes to drop off some stuff I left in my locker at work. I thought you might have come together.” Shrugging a shoulder as casually as you can, you quirk a brow at Mick and continue, “You really didn’t see him? Huh. I hope he’s okay. It’s not like him to be late.”

On the last word, the feeling of warm, sweaty skin pressed to your leg disappears.

Bingo.

“Well,” Mick announces brusquely, plastering a cheery grin on his face as he leans back and slaps his palms onto his knees, pushing himself off your sofa, “If Flowers is on his way, I’d better let you two have your space. Wouldn’t want to crowd you, hmm?”

Though it damn-near kills you to do so, you tilt your head and ask, “Oh, are you sure? I think he wanted to have a word with you about something.”

Mick’s face turns several shades paler than usual as he stumbles over his response. “Ah, well, I’m sure it can wait until I see him at work tomorrow.” Slipping a finger between his grey tie and the collar of his shirt, he tugs the fabric looser, taking several, hurried steps in the direction of your front door. “I’m sorry to have stopped in unannounced.”

Your smile reveals just a few too many teeth. “It’s not a problem,” you lie, using the crutch to lever yourself onto your feet, “I suppose I’ll see you at work, then?”

Mick’s backwards peddling might have been funny if you were in any mood to laugh.

“Hm? Oh, yes, yes. I’ll see you then,” he titters, “You just stay off that leg in the meantime.” His hand grasps the door handle, sliding clumsily around it for a moment as his damp palms clamber for purchase.

You heart soars when he finally manages to pull it open, only to step halfway outside and hesitate in the threshold of your home. For several, awful seconds, you stare at the back of his head, wondering if he’s changed his mind, or worse, if he’s called your bluff.

Sparing you a look over his shoulder, Mick catches your eye. “Just… remember what I told you about the gator,” he tells you suddenly, “Preferably before you decide to visit the Plex again.”

And with that, he just… leaves, disappearing out into the hallway and pulling your door shut in his wake until the latch ‘clicks’ shut.

Mouth full of cotton wool, you listen intently for the thump of dress shoes hitting carpet to peter out as Mick beats a hasty retreat down the hall. Fainter and fainter, the sound fades, until at last, you hear the far-off 'ding' of the lift doors sliding open and shut, and with a shuddering inhale, you promptly crumple forwards against the door, gasping out a wet, pitiful noise whilst you scrabble at the lock with shuddering fingers.

It’s only when the metal latch slides into place with a definitive ‘shunk,’ that the door of your bedroom bursts open.

With all the speed and unimpeded ferocity of a stampeding bull, Monty comes surging from the darkness of your bedroom, his shoulder struts reared back like a pair of snakes ready to strike.

“What’d he do to you!?” he demands, crossing towards you in just a few strides.

You spare a thought for your downstairs neighbours before you remember they’ve been on holiday since last week. And a good thing too. Each step the gator takes sends tremors through the floor below your bare feet.

Monty’s sensors – by now so well-tuned to your vitals – had been going haywire behind the door, picking up on your thundering pulse and the steady uptick in your cortisol levels. He’d had to stand there, helpless but to listen as Mick spewed his rhetoric into your ear, and Monty hadn’t been able to defend himself or refute the man’s claims at all. But you-!

Wonderful, righteous, amicable you... You had! Monty's systems were thrumming, thoroughly cowed to hear you come to his defence, which made it only more difficult not to burst into the room and sweep you away from Mick when the man all but purred reassurances at you.

But worse, perhaps, was the gator’s inability to see what was happening on the other side of the door. Mick’s verbal blows against Monty’s behaviour couldn’t have been the catalyst for your climbing heartrate, though some small, selfish code in the animatronic hopes you felt at least a little indignation on his behalf.

No… Something else occurred here tonight. Something Monty wasn’t privy to, but wishes he was, if only to settle the ire broiling in his circuits.

You have your back to him, and your forehead pressed against the solid wood of your front door.

He has to see your face… He has to know. He has to read your expression and see for himself that there isn’t any fear there, just exasperation or even a fiery burst of anger. Anything… Just not fear. He would take all the fear in the world from any human he meets if he would only be spared from yours.

Wrestling back the hissing lines of code that poke and prod at his temper, Monty slows to a halt as he reaches you, his apertures twitching wide then narrow again whilst they flit up and down your body in search of damage.

“Hey,” he calls, sliding a single, clawed hand around your bicep, “You hear me? What’d he-?”

If he’d have just known… If he’d have hazarded a guess as to where your mind had gone in that moment, he might have thought twice about laying his hand on you.

“DON’T-!” you yelp shrilly, whirling around to face him and thrusting your wrist against his, knocking the limb aside as if to parry a weapon instead of his arm.

Startled, the gator wrenches his appendage back, holding it above his shoulder in a display of surrender as he blinks down at you dumbly, jaw falling ajar.

And then, he sees it.

You’re staring up at him, your face drawn back, haggard and half-mad with terror, your chest heaves with the effort of taking in breaths.

He doesn’t have to perform a scan to determine what he’s been dreading. Humans have looked at him like that ever since he was first brought online. Monty’s processor thumps, dredging up a memory of Mick - younger and bolder than the man he is now – reeling away from the gator, face as pale as Moon’s and his eyes so wide the entire iris was exposed. Monty remembers the odd sensation of something soft collapsing between his teeth.

The animatronic violently purges the memory from his internal storage, though he knows it’ll still linger there somewhere, buried behind layer upon layer of firewalls until his guard is lowered once more.

All at once, he recoils like he’s been hit by a wrecking ball, staggering backwards until his tail hits the wall behind him and he’s forced to stop. Unable to retreat any further, unable to offer you any more distance, he simply stares at you from his side of the room.

It’s over… This wonderful, safe harbour he’d found in you is finally finished… You believe what Mick had said about Monty being a danger to you.

He always knew this had to end, of course. Good things can’t thrive in the vicinity of a Faz Co. animatronic. He just… didn’t think the time would come so soon.

Even still, he can’t help but cling with raw, desperate hope to you, scrabbling to keep a hold of your good graces because he’s too stubborn or too foolish to let go.

“I-I wouldn’t -“ he starts, concealing his claws with his fists and tucking them against his chest, “- I’d never… I wouldn’t hurt you. Not you, not ever. You’re…”

His voice box sputters, cutting out for a moment as he searches his bank of vocabulary for what you are.

When it finally dawns on him, his processor almost grinds to a halt.

“You’re all I got,” he confesses slowly, surprising himself with the revelation, “I don’t got nobody else…I ain’t gonna hurt you, you know that.”

You have to know that.

Please know that.

Gradually, far too gradually for the gator’s highly strung code to endure, you lower your arm  too look at him, brows high on your forehead.

“Monty?” you utter quietly, sending a quick glance between the animatronic’s downcast snout and the hands he still keeps curled beneath his chest. In another blink, you realise what you’ve just insinuated through action alone.

“Oh, I… Monty – No, of course you wouldn’t. I’m so sorry, I… God.” Slouching back against the door, your head knocks against it as you drop a palm over your face. “This is such a mess.”

Lowering your palm to the door, you splay your fingers over the wood behind you, drawing in a steadying breath and trying to ground yourself to the solidity at your spine. Another breath, and you finally drop your eyes to the gator.

For the briefest moment, you consider telling him why you couldn’t bear to feel a hand on you right now.

Your mouth creaks open, the words sitting on the tip of your tongue.

But something along the vein of common sense tells you that it wouldn’t be fair to burden Monty with such knowledge.

‘Besides,’ you remind yourself, borrowing your mother’s words, ‘It’s all in the past, and least said, soonest mended.’

Morose yet resigned, you swallow back your admission.

“I’m sorry, Monty,” you offer instead, raising a hand to rub at your drooping eyelids, “I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Unconvinced, the gator curls his tail inward, eyeing your arm - the one he’d grabbed.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” The question seems to creep out of him, his volume levels set so low that you have to strain your ears to hear it.

“No,” you reassure him, dropping your hand to give him a gentle, albeit tired smile, “No, you didn’t. You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t,” he readily agrees, lifting his snout a little.

For a few seconds, the pair of you simply regard each other from opposite sides of the room, until eventually – and reluctantly – you have to let your smile fade away, replacing it with a worn, heavyhearted frown.

“That was close though,” you whisper to yourself, letting your eyes slip shut, “Shit, that was too close.”

How on Earth Mick didn’t find out about Monty’s presence here, you’ll never know.

A mechanical whir followed by a thud lets you know the gator has just edged a step closer. “Yeah, no kiddin’…” There’s a pregnant pause, and then you jump slightly, snapping your eyes open as Monty raises his voice to an indignant bark, “And just what in the heck did he think he was doing, comin’ round here in the middle of the night anyway?”

The look you shoot the gator is withering enough to have him tilting his head sideways.

“What?” he asks, apparently oblivious.

You elect to gloss over his blatant hypocrisy in favour of jabbing a finger at him, though the action lacks the same hostility it might have ten minutes ago. “You know, it wouldn’t have been ‘too close’ if you hadn’t been here in the first place.”

Perhaps recognising the rising challenge in your tone, Monty’s stance shifts as he raises up on his struts, towering so high that his mohawk almost brushes the ceiling. He peers down the length of his snout at you, the line of his brows set and rigid, half shuttering his optics.

“I ain’t sorry,” he tells you, and it’s so matter of fact that you give a hard blink, your own eyebrows springing up towards your hairline.

You’re starting to feel a little like Andy. If this is how exasperated the poor mechanic feels when you do something stupid, then you owe him several, sincere apologies.

“I… I was, though,” Monty adds suddenly, lowering his nose as if the bluster was only ever meant to be short-lived, “Before Matthews turned up. But now, I…”

For a second, he falters, then bulldozes through his hesitation with a sharp grunt and a shake of his head, meeting your gaze resolutely. “Now, I’m glad I was here.”

His optics flicker brightly, though they dart between your face and the cast on your leg at frequent intervals as though he’s uncertain of himself yet determined not to back down from his conviction.

“I ain’t stupid,“ he insists, but there’s too much fervency behind it, like you’re not the only one he’s trying to convince, “Matthews was doin’ something to you. If you hadn’t’a got rid of him, I’d’ve…“

“…What, Monty,” you sigh when it becomes clear he’s hesitating to sort through his words again, “What would you have done, short of giving us both away?”

“I’d have stopped him,” he growls, puffing out his chest and jabbing it with the sharp claw of his thumb, “I’d’ve protected you.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff, “Oh, my hero. You’d get yourself scrapped, and me arrested for kidnapping an animatronic.”

It’s disconcerting to see a bot so large and intimidating positively wilt as though your point has just heaped a very real, very tangible weight upon his shoulders.

Letting a sigh slip through your nose, you catch a loose bit of skin between your teeth, worrying at it in the tangible silence that hovers between you and the gator.

You want to be angry with him for being here. You want to tell him how foolish and misguided his programming was to convince him that he should leave the Plex to seek you out. But if there was any strength left in you after the day’s events, it’s been well and truly sapped clean out of you. In fact, ‘sapped’ is too gentle a word for it. As memories try to pile up on top of one another, it takes more effort than you’d care to admit to beat them down again, leaving you with very little residual energy to conjure any resentment for an animatronic who followed you home because he wanted to make sure you got there safely.

This behaviour is so out of character for him.

And you? Well, you’re so out of your depth. Shit, you can never tell Sun and Moon about Monty’s escape. If the daycare attendants find out that they can leave the Plex as well, you’ll be in for a whole new world of trouble.

While you slump against the door, contemplating, Monty’s large head swings to the left, his optics studying the window. He’d wrenched it open so hard the frame had torn jagged splinters from the surrounding wood. The corner of his lips turn south as he lowers his optics to the table he’d overturned. That alone had almost been enough to rouse suspicion, but you’d explained it away expertly, from what he could hear, and Mick ended up none the wiser.

It comes as no real shock to the gator that if it weren’t for your quick thinking and well-oiled responses, he’d have given himself away ten times over. He’d have given you away…

Impulsive, Freddy might call him.

Stupid, would be Roxanne’s more cutting, though no less accurate decree.

It’s never been an easy thing for Montgomery Gator to admit that he might have been wrong. Even if his protocols thrum with a newfound urge to guard a member of Fazbear Co.’s faculty, his processor knows all too well that his coming here put you at the most risk.

The gator’s tail drops to the ground with a dull ‘thunk’ of plastic and metal on the carpet. ��I just wanted to do somethin’ right for once,” he utters to the stillness, his truest desire finally spoken aloud.

He doesn’t look at you this time, but his audials pick up your gentle intake of breath and wonders what happened to the animatronic who would have bitten your head off several days ago just for looking at him the wrong way.

At least if that Monty did something wrong, it was usually deliberate. Somehow, as he’s quickly coming to learn, it’s so much worse trying to do something right, and getting it wrong anyway than doing something wrong in the first place.

Hurts more, he concedes.

The gator is too busy discovering the scope of his regret to notice you push yourself off the door, leaning hard onto your crutch as you squint up at him, cocking your head to one side like he’s a puzzle you’re still figuring out. Admittedly, you absolutely are. You’re not an engineer or a programmer. You can’t begin to fathom the depths that Monty’s learning algorithms can reach.

All you can see is an animatronic condemned by those who made him, trying to be better than he’s told he is. So, while you can’t condone his being here, for his own sake, you realise that he - much like yourself - has likely had more than enough of people telling him off.

Sucking down a long, thick breath, you release it all in as weary a sigh as you’ve ever expelled.

“You’re doing fine, Monty,” you say, and it’s kinder, warmer than you’ve sounded all evening, “You’re doing just fine. I mean, this was a little…” Pausing to gesture loosely at the overturned coffee table, you let out a soft laugh and continue, “Uh, overzealous. But your heart was definitely in the right place.”

‘Your heart.’

Slowly, hesitantly, Monty’s tail lifts from the ground, rising with the edges of his crocodilian smile. You might never know how much it means to him that you don’t point out how he doesn’t technically have a heart. And it means even more to hear that you know his intentions came from a good place.

“But,” you add, inhaling, like you’re bracing yourself, “I’m still not happy you’ve put yourself in such a precarious position just to check up on me.”

Monty’s metal framework groans as he slumps again.

“Ugh. Listen to me,” you chuckle, rubbing your temple, “I’m starting to sound like Andy.” Starting forwards, you begin limping for your room, stifling a wide, clumsy yawn behind the back of your hand. “Now, I have had, like, the longest day. And I’m going to bed before I keel over.”

“…But… what about your food?” he asks, sparing a glance over at the saucepan sitting idly on the countertop. The water inside has long gone cold.

Your footsteps pause as you draw alongside him, reaching out to lay a palm on your bedroom door. “I’m not hungry,” you murmur after a second. It’s not entirely a lie. For some reason, the meagre appetite you had for cheap noodles and tea has evaporated, leaving you hollow, yes, but not nearly as hollow as you were rendered by the touch of Mick’s hand on your leg.

Giving your door a shove, you push it open and reach around the corner, sliding your fingers along the interior wall until you find the light switch, flicking it on and illuminating the bedroom with a warm, yellow glow. Monty is frowning at you, you can feel his crimson optics boring into the side of your head, but you ignore him to say, “I suggest you go back to the Plex before you run out of charge.”

You must have mistaken the gator’s earlier acquiescence for a willingness to leave.

“I got plenty of charge,” he deflects.

As it is, Monty’s optics rove over the top of your head, widening significantly behind his glasses as they land upon the contents of the room that he’d been standing in just minutes ago. He hadn’t bothered to sate his curiosity then, far more apprehensive about what was happening on the outside of the space, but now, without oppressive darkness cloaking every corner and without a potential threat to contend with, his protocols take a backseat to his inquisitiveness.

He observes closely as you shuffle into the new territory, your territory, where you immediately make a beeline for the nest – bed, his CPU corrects – that’s set against the furthest wall.

Swinging his prodigious bulk around, the animatronic trails after you, ducking underneath the doorway and raising his snout to the air.

You don’t even have to look over a shoulder to know you’re being tailed. The heavy stomps are proof enough of the gator’s proximity. “Monty, come on,” you whine, “You’ve gotta go home.”

The gator only offers a gruff hum in response, otherwise distracted by the simple yet pivotal revelation that he, for the first time, is seeing your private, recharging chamber. Immediately, he’s struck by how much more lived-in this humble space is. Out there, in your kitchenette and the adjacent living room, everything seemed so much more bland. Less you.

In here, there are pieces of you scattered into each corner of the room, from the pile of unwashed clothes sitting in a nearby chair to the row of house plants lined up like soldiers along the breadth of your windowsill.

Curious, his optics roam towards a desk in the corner, upon which sits - to his immediate intrigue – a large, square tank filled almost to the brim with crystal-clear water, and lit from above by a cool, fluorescent light bulb. He knows what it is at once, though he’s never been privy to one in person before.

At his back, you reach the bed and promptly collapse onto your rear at the edge of the mattress, dropping your crutch to the floor and listening to it land with a sharp clatter of plastic.

“Ohhh,” you groan tiredly, leaning forwards to balance your elbows on your knees and drop your face into a palm, trying in vain to rub away the bags underneath your eyes with numbing fingertips.

Your whole body aches ferociously, all stemming from the sharp twinge of your ankle that lays protected behind a thick, white cast.

Six Weeks…

Day one has been hard enough. How are you supposed to make it to day forty-two? The question remains; is it uphill from here, or down?

Glancing over a shoulder, you restrain an impromptu smile before it can spread as you spot Monty creeping up to the fish tank on your desk, his head hunched low to peer through the glass at your little corydoras sifting eagerly through the substrate in search of hidden food.

“Hey, little guys,” the animatronic murmurs, his optics casting the water in a gentle, pinkish glow.

Fish are a novelty for him. He knows of them, of course, has seen images of them depicting many various shapes, sizes, and colours. He knows they can’t survive for long outside of water, and he knows they’re covered in scales.

But to see for himself how those scales flash under his scrutinous, crimson LEDs, to watch their barbels twitch as they playfully chase one another along the floor of the tank…

There’s a strange kinship there for the creatures who share the waterways with his real-life counterparts.

He likes them, he decides. He likes that you have them. It speaks to an apparent affinity for aquatically-inclined animals…

For several moments, you merely observe the gator from your bed, wondering why he’s stalling. At least, you assume he’s stalling.

“Monty,” you yawn, pretending not to notice how his purple shoulder struts jump in response to your voice, “What are you doing?”

The gator’s head twitches towards you briefly. “M’sayin’ hi to the fish,” he states simply.

Shooting him a deadpan glare, you retort, “You know what I mean. Why are you still here? You need to get back to the Plex before you’re missed.”

“Ain’t nobody gonna miss me,” he shrugs, “Sides, I’ve still got a couple’a hours of juice left in the tank. Don’t worry.”

“But I am worried, Monty,” you squeeze out - and oh, there’s that pinch of tenderness to soften the hard, brutal metal hidden under his casing – “If I wasn’t worried about getting caught, I’d haul you back to the Plex myself… How did you get here unseen anyway?”

“Came over the rooftops,” he replies proudly, cocking his head at a fish that approaches the glass, lured by the glow of his optics.

“The rooftops!?” you sputter, “How on Earth did you get up there!?”

Flashing a cheshire grin, the gator gives the casing on his thigh two hearty slaps. “Got the best pneumatic cylinders in the business. These things’ll carry me distances you wouldn’t believe. Sometimes I use ‘em to get from one side of the catwalks to the other. This is the first time I’ve seen what they can really do.”

Collapsing backwards on top of the covers, you splay your arms out on either side of you, letting a long, appreciative whistle pass your lips. “You jumped…. All the way here?” you realise aloud.

“Beats walkin’.”

“… And you’re going to jump all the way back?”

“Can’t exactly take a cab, can I?”

You don’t respond for a long while… So long that he turns himself all the way around and rises to his feet, half expecting to find you fast asleep on the bed.

Your eyes are closed, and you’ve gone very still. Your chest rises and falls with even, steady breaths, though your legs are still dangling over the side of the mattress, toes brushing against the carpet.

Monty frowns. A hum of machinery gives him away, not so silent as he paces around the bed towards you and lowers himself down onto one knee, reaching for your legs with the intention to lift them up to the bed so you can lay flat.

His first-aid protocols are nowhere near as advanced as Freddy’s, but he’s skimmed enough medical files in the last twelve hours to know that you should keep your damaged leg elevated.

With gradual movements, the animatronic’s fingers flex and stretch for your cast. However, his purple claws barely make it within a foot of your appendage when your body goes absolutely rigid, as though you’ve turned to stone right there on the mattress.

At once, Monty stops, glancing up to see one of your eyelids crack open and swivel over to peer at him, blinking slowly in the glow cast by his optics. “What’re you doing?” you ask guardedly. Something in your voice quivers. He catches it right away.

“I… just – I was gonna put your legs on the bed,” he explains.

The clock on your bedside table ticks quietly ever onwards, and it’s only when you remember to exhale that he considers your expression for another moment and finally ducks his head, asking, “… Can I touch you?”

Stuffing your teeth into your bottom lip, you clutch a fistful of the duvet beneath you and slowly shake your head from side to side. “Not… Not yet… I’m not…”

You falter, swallowing a painful lump that sticks in your throat like guilt. Monty didn’t do anything, after all.

But for an animatronic, his response comes far too softly.

“Okay,” he nods, pulling his hands away and returning them to his lap.

And that’s… all he does for a long time.

Sniffing, you lower your gaze, tugging yourself backwards using the duvet as leverage until you can haul your heavy cast over the side and stretch your legs out towards the foot of the bed, sighing in relief.

"Better put a pillow under there," Monty pipes up, jutting his chin towards the fluffy, white cushions spread out behind you.

Clicking your tongue, you stretch behind yourself and snag the first pillow your fingers grasp, hauling it over your head and tossing it haphazardly near your leg. After taking a moment to brace yourself, you lean back on your elbows and bite your tongue to keep down a cry as you lift the leg up and onto the pillow.

Through it all, Monty says nothing further. He does stare at you though…

You’ve noticed he’s being doing that a lot lately. What was it Mick said?

‘It’s no secret that it’s taken a real liking to you.’

You don’t want to think about Mick.

Finally, when the gator’s staring starts to grow a little too… intimate, you swallow thickly and peel your lips apart to mumble, “Monty, why don’t you want to go back to the Plex?”

He perks up at his name but loses his enthusiasm as he registers the question.

“I’ll go back soon,” he grumbles.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Monty’s vents hiss as he simulates a pensive sigh - like yours - and begins folding his legs up underneath himself, his plates sliding over each other as he settles himself down onto his rear, arms draping loosely over his knees. He knows.

“Six weeks…” he mutters, cautiously lowering his long chin until it brushes the duvet cover beside you. When you don’t protest or move away, he gives his head a little more rein to droop, and the framework in his neck no longer strains to keep it aloft.

Confusion lays its mark bare across your face. “What?”

Six weeks,” he repeats, “That’s how long you’re gonna be gone for. That’s a long time to…” Static clings to his voice-box, stifling his words. With a grimace, Monty thumps a fist twice over his chest until something clicks audibly into place. Then, forcing a laugh, he falteringly adds, “S’a… long time for a bot to go without having his room cleaned, yeah?”

“You could always let the S.T.A.F.F bots help you,” you point out.

“Nah, they wouldn’t do it right.”

A weary smirk toys with the edge of your mouth as you reply, “Well, have you considered – and this might be a bit outlandish, but bear with me here – have you considered just… cleaning it yourself?”

“Course I have,” he retorts, “But… c’mon, it’d be more fun with you, wouldn’t it?”

He should have known when your smirk recedes to leave him looking at a flat, sombre line that you weren’t fooled for a moment.

“Monty… Is the truth really that embarrassing?” you pose.

‘Yes…’ he huffs wordlessly to himself, ‘It is.’

 “It’s all gonna go back to the way it was before,” he mumbles into the duvet.

“What is?”

“Everythin’,” he suddenly exclaims, wrenching his head back up, “It’ll go back to how it was before you came along. You’ll be gone for six weeks! What if I start gettin’ angry again? What if I forget about what you taught me, ‘bout accidents n’ stuff?” That thought brings on another that’s even more dreadful, and he curls his hands underneath his chest, leaning into them against the side of the bed. “What if you forget about me?”

You blink at him, bewildered, studying the jarringly human behaviour he’s exhibiting, and wondering, not for the first time, if it says something about you that you see humanity in so much of what these animatronics do.

“Hey,” you offer, giving him a sympathetic smile when he slides his nose further along the duvet until it almost touches your arm. Almost. “You might be overthinking things, Monty. I’m pretty sure I could never forget you.” You laugh at that, causing him to blow a whuff of air against your forearm. “And besides,” you add, “Six weeks is… like, nothing, okay? It’ll go by faster than you think.”

Far from convinced, the gator only grumbles unintelligibly into the duvet and casts his optics to the other side of the room. The bed underneath you rumbles as the rich bass growls out of his speakers.

“Listen...” you sigh, flopping your head down onto the pillow to blink up at the ceiling overhead, “When I was younger, one of my best friends moved halfway across the world with her family.”

Immediately, the gator’s jaw clenches at the mention of your ‘best friend’ before he catches the action and berates himself for behaving like a toddler being asked to share their favourite toy.

“We haven’t seen each other for… Oh boy, ten years, maybe? I still call her sometimes… Probably not as often as I should... And you know what?”

“…What?”

You roll your head over to peer at the animatronic beside you, finding his focus has returned to your face.

Pulling your mouth into a sleepy smile, you let out a hum before murmuring, “Every time I ring, she’s always so pleased to hear from me. I bet if she were to walk through my door right now, it would be like no time had passed at all.”

Monty’s optic shutters click open and shut. “How come?” he prompts quietly.

“Well, do you think I love her any less now because I haven’t seen her for ten years?” you reply, “Friends can’t be together all the time, you know. Even if they might want to be. Life gets in the way. Families, jobs, fatigue, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t still friends. So, you don’t need to worry about not seeing me for a few weeks, okay?”

You can’t help but find this conversation very reminiscent to a similar one you had to have with Sunny after he learned you were leaving for a week of summer vacation.

“I ain’t worried,” Monty lies through his teeth, “Just wonderin’ how you’re gonna have any fun without me around.”

“Fun was not the doctor’s recommended treatment,” you yawn, letting your eyes slip shut and keeping them closed, bogged down by a cumbersome weight that’s been heaped upon your shoulders. A myriad of hurried little thoughts swirl around inside your head, too numerous to pin any single one down. Mick’s arrival and subsequent behaviour, whether you’re trying to read too much into what might have been nothing more than a friendly gesture, Monty’s escape from the Plex and the sudden responsibility you have for an animatronic you’ve barely known a week…

You just need to sleep.

‘It’ll all make sense in the morning,’ you try to tell yourself…

You’d make a shit salesperson.

For some time, the quiet gurgling of your tank's filter provides a soothing backdrop to the silence cast between you and the animatronic.

“Can I stay here?” Monty’s question breaks through the fog of flitting thoughts, his volume barely a digit away from being entirely mute, “With you? Just for a lil’ while?”

Prying your eyelids apart to blink tiredly at the gator, you let your chest fill with a slow, heavy breath, blowing it all out again through your nose.

“… Just this once,” you whisper back.

The gator’s optics brighten, then flit towards the movement of your hand on the bed.

You’ve raised your forearm, inching the appendage closer to Monty’s snout. Fingers worn dry and abrasive from chemicals and labour touch down on top of the animatronic’s nose, followed by your palm, spreading a pleasant flood of warmth down through his teeth and onto his tongue.

In response, some of Monty’s systems backfire, kicking errors codes to his HUD that tell him he’s overheating, and should release excess coolant to the affected areas. He ignores the alerts. He ignores everything. Everything that isn’t your hand is left by the wayside, forgotten in favour of soaking up a touch that he knows would never cause hurt.

Letting his optics click shut, the gator draws his silicone lips up into a lax, lazy smile.

The muffled ‘thumps’ of a heavy tail fall and rise from the carpet over and over, and Monty’s frame seems to purr as he relaxes his massive head onto your mattress, contented and committed to this spot until his battery hits zero and his limbs rust from underuse.

He knows he has to leave, but for now, just pretending… It’s the happiest he’s been in…

It’s the happiest he’s been.

“Just this once.”