remus x shy!reader

author: sj

warnings: fluff; reader is in hufflepuff; not edited lol

let me know if you want a part 2 cause i love writing for remus rn

masterlist

part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

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you shared a lot of classes with the marauders. you weren’t even sure they knew your name. but even though you thought they didn’t know you, there was one marauder who always noticed you. remus could spot you in a crowd of one hundred. his eyes always searching for a yellow tie and your h/c hair. he thought you were so smart and always watched you take notes in every class admiring how focused you were on your studies. to be honest, that’s one of the reasons he always went to the library to study, he knew you’d be in there as well.

james had noticed this little thing remus had for you as early at 3rd year. he watched remus silently watch the hufflepuff girl with h/c hair. he didn’t try to intervene until they were older, still watching him pine over the same girl that had remus’ attention. he didn’t really know what to do so he told sirius and of course he knew exactly what to do.

you were sitting in potions after class had ended, classmates filtering out and gathering your things when someone came up to you and started talking to you. low and behold it was sirius.

“hey! i’m sirius” he said, shoving his hand towards you. you nodded, waking yourself out of shock that a marauder was introducing himself to you like they weren’t the talk of the school.

“y/n.” you replied, shaking his hand.

“great. my friend remus, you know remus right? tall, lanky, always holding a book, he’s sick and is always draining on and on about how smart you are so i thought i’d ask you for notes for him. id give him mine but i didn’t take any.” you cheeks turned red at the idea of them talking about you, much less remus thinking that you were smart.

“um. yeah. i can do that, let me copy them onto another piece of parchment and then you can take them to him.”

“perfect! come by the gryffindor common room anytime tonight and we’ll be there!”

when you finished up copying the notes that night, you stopped by the gryffindor common room to drop off the notes. you didn't have the password so knocking on the portrait would have to do. you stepped back and the door swung open to reveal sirius giving you and oddly big grin.

"come on in, love! so lovely of you to drop these notes off for poor remus." he ushered you inside and you stepped through looking around the room. you quickly found the rest of the marauders sitting by the fireplace, james, peter, and a tired looking remus. his eyes widened when you walked through the door, instantly shooting to james and peter and back to you.

"had a surprise for you remus. i know how much you love your notes, so i thought i'd ask for some from the master herself." sirius said, pushing you towards the group. your cheeks burned as you dug through your bag on you shoulder to find your copy of notes for him. you finally found them and took a few steps forward to remus who was sitting up straighter as you got closer.

"here you go. i just copied them from the notes that i took today. i hope they're good enough. i'm not sure what your normal style is that you're used to so i this helps." you said in a rush, looking down at your notes. you extended them towards the boy sitting by the fire. he reached for them.

"thank you so much y/n! you really didn't have to do this. did sirius make you any threats or force you do this?" he asked, lowering his voice slightly. you lightly laughed as a shocked sirius gasped and muttered some words you couldn't understand.

"no, no. i promise i did this of my own free will." you said, glancing up at his eyes. his smile reached his eyes once your eyes met and you instantly felt warm inside.

and so thats how your relationship started to form with the marauders. they soon started coming up to talk with you during classes and inviting you to sit with them at meals when they noticed you sitting by yourself.

your favorite though, was when you'd be in the library and remus would ask to sit at your table. he would work with you silently and you'd trade questions about homework back and forth, eventually even recommending books to each other.

you even got so close to them that the boys started including you in the teasing. one specific day, the boys found you and remus reading in the common room together. you were sitting on the ground in front of the coffee table and he was sitting behind you on the couch. the boys came in loud and instantly disrupted the calmness. sirius came bouding over to you and sat across the coffee table on the floor.

"i thought of one for you." he said, slapping his hands on the table. you jumped at the abrupt sound and leaned back on to remus' legs. the boys had been trying to figure out a good nickname for you so you could join their fun nicknames, but you weren't an anigmus like they were so there were lots of options but not of them really were fitting you quite right.

"what is it?" you asked, relaxing against remus' legs.

"flea. its perfect. you're small, quiet and annoying." you gasped and immediately sat up in protest.

"no! thats horrible i don't want to be called a flea, you git!" you exclaimed.

"but it just fits so well, flea. i can't deny how perfect it is for you." you started to protest, but a big hand stopped you. the hand, from remus, wrapped around your shoulder and guided you back to his legs, scooching you to between his legs and under him. his hands grabbed your shoulders and started to work there, massaging your tight shoulders.

"we're not calling her flea." remus insisted. you shivered and you hoped he thought it was from his hands and not his commanding voice. james then spoke up.

"what about hoppers?" you tilted your head and looked up at remus to hear his response, not protesting that one.

"she sure is as cute as a bunny and the size of one too. i vote yes." he said, looking down into your face. james nodded his head and sirius huffed.

"i still like flea better but hoppers will do when you don't annoy me, flea." sirius grumbled. you rolled your eyes and relaxed into remus' touch more, your eyes closing. unbeknownst to you, his small smile grew as he continued to massage your shoulders.

────────── 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐜.𝐟

ONE SHOT !

they did say that when two people are meant to be together, they will eventually find a way back to each other. however, are you ready to open your heart again to a person who has broken it in the past?

SEQUEL TO : you’re losing me

───────────────────────────

“They say that your first love never dies. You can put out the flame but not the fire”

It was true, for me atleast. I’d be lying if I said that I don’t love Conrad, because I do, I still do — no matter how much he had hurt me before, a piece of my heart is still beating for him.

Time, curious time

Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Were there clues I didn't see?

And isn't it just so pretty to think

It wasn’t easy to move on, he made me feel things — things that I never felt before. He was different, he just was.

For two years, I had done my best to put the past behind me, but still, I would often find myself thinking of Conrad and wondering what could have been.

Until one day, when an unexpected text message popped up on my phone. It was from Conrad, of all people. Confused but curious, I opened the message. The only thing that it said was 'Are you free today?’ Could he possibly still care about me, after all this time?

A string that pulled me

Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire

Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons

One single thread of gold tied me to you

I thought back to the words we had said to each other; the heartache that had been so painful that it had taken so long for me to move on. But still, here he was, wanting to see me. Was I willing to open my heart up to someone who had broken it so badly in the past?

───────────────────────────

Conrad asked me if we could meet at the beach near Cousins. I dont know why why I said yes, maybe I wanted closure — maybe I wanted to hear his side.

I stood on the dock, the ocean air getting caught in my hair. Although the sun was out and the sky a brilliant blue,

I couldn't bring myself to take in the beauty of the day. I was too consumed with my thoughts, instead glancing around, distracted and flustered.

I saw Conrad — standing at the end of the shore, a better vision than the view of the ocean I had become accustomed to.

I swallowed hard as I stared into his eyes - the same eyes that had shattered my heart months ago. He looked different. Older, strong, different from the man I had said goodbye to all those months ago.

But there he was, standing in front of me, arms crossed — pain pierced through me like a hot knife as I remembered fond memories I shared with him. Memories that were now tarnished by the hurt he had caused me.

I took a deep breathe and stepped forward — walking towards him.

“Hey Conrad,” I said tentatively.

He looked up with surprise, then quickly looked away. “Hey y/n,” he muttered.

“It’s been so long huh?” Conrad asked. I looked at him before answering “Yeah, It has. I just want to get to the point already. Why did you want to see me?” I asked him.

His eyes met mine, filled with regret and longing. "I never stopped thinking about you," he confessed, his voice laced with raw emotion.

I listened, my heart warring between the past and the present. Memories flooded my mind - stolen kisses, whispered promises, and the crushing pain of betrayal. And yet, beneath it all, the flicker of what once was remained.

"You broke me," I replied, my voice steadying.

Conrad reached out to gently touch my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. "Please, Y/n," he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. "What I did was fucked up, you didn’t deserve that — you didn’t deserve to be ignored, I-I should’ve paid more attention to you”

"I messed up, I admit it. I was a fool to let you go. I've regretted it every single day, and I wish I could turn back time and change things." He said, taking a step closer.

I blinked back tears, trying to resist the pull I felt towards him. "Conrad, it's not that easy. You hurt me so deeply, and I've spent so long trying to heal." I said, backing away from him.

"I know," he murmured, his voice cracked with emotion. "But I'm here now, and all I want is a chance to make things right, to prove to you that I've changed. I want to be better for you.”

His words tugged at my heartstrings, and I felt a glimmer of hope. Could we really find a way back to each other? Was it possible to rebuild what had been broken?

Time, wondrous time

Gave me the blues and then purple pink skies

And it's cool, baby, with me

The sound of crashing waves filled the silence between us, punctuating the weight of the moment. I looked into Conrad's eyes, searching for sincerity, I’m scared — scared of risking again. Scared of getting hurt again.

“I-I don’t know, Conn-“ I said looking down, he walked closer — his hands reaching for mine.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, just.. just let me love you. Let me be a better man for you.” he paused “I’ll wait for you”

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

I looked up at him, I saw the glint in his eyes — he was genuine, his voice sounded hopeful — his eyes filled with love. It wouldn’t hurt if I tried again right? maybe now, it’ll be right.

My soulmate (01/02/2024)

it’s for @metalpipereal generally but i think nanami deserves another story too (too many for gojo grrr) so here it is yayayayayay

I could never resist to ask “Are you my soulmate?” to every single person I meet.

Everyone has a soulmate right? I’m not quite sure about that, despite all the stories I have read about that topic, I have never ever met mine. What if I don’t have a soulmate? One that’s supposed to love me and cherish me and I’d do the same for them. And what do they mean ‘you’ll know when you see them’, I have lived for 20 long years and I still don’t feel that ‘it’s them’ feeling.

My significant other, where are you?

The scent of fresh baked bread is my favourite, it makes me think about how romantic it must be when you share your morning coffee with your partner. Just the thought of it makes my day. I munch on the piece of toast as I go make my morning coffee with the machine. I close my eyes as I fill my lungs with the scent of coffee, then opening them feeling energised like the caffeine had already taken effect.

As I walked out of the kitchen, ready to start my day. I turned on the television to catch up on the latest news, only to see that there had been a huge car accident right in front of my college.

“Really?” I cursed under my breath, “On the day that I’m finally not tired?”

I had to resist the urge to throw a tantrum like a 5 year old would, throwing hands at the cushions on the couch and screaming out loud. Wanting to go to my mother to complain about how much this was annoying me, and just cry in her arms as she whispers soothing words into my ear. Oh, how I wish my soulmate would do that to me, and just hold me in their arms as I cry my heart out.

Now what do I do with my brain fired up and my whole day stuck in the house. Work on my essay that’s due two months later? No way. Go downstairs to buy some more groceries? I don’t want to anymore. I lie down on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling as I can’t fall asleep anymore. I sit up suddenly, as if remembering an important thing that I haven’t done, then looked at the time. 9AM, I forgot to buy bread! How could I possibly forget that. I quickly fo get changed to quickly go down to the bakery to buy my daily doze of freshly baked bread.

As I rush out of my apartment, grabbing my wallet and my phone only, forgetting everything else but the sole goal of buying the bread I want. I waited impatiently for the elevator, I stood nervously, afraid that another person would buy the bread that I wanted. When the elevator finally arrived my floor, I got in to see a man. One that is tall and blond and looked a little older. I had to admit that my heart fluttered a bit when I saw him, because oh my god, was he divine. But I had no time for men right now, I just need my bread.

The button to the ground floor had already been pressed, by him I assume. And he looked at me at the corner of his eye, his brown eyes alluring I have to say. As the elevator reaches down to the ground floor, I started running full speed to the bakery to get my bread. I’m so getting that piece of bread. Before I knew it, the man in the elevator with me started running too, and he was catching up to me. ‘Oh no’, I thought. So I ran faster and faster until I finally reached the bakery. I was so out of breath as I grabbed the last bag of bread. But there was just another hand grabbing the bag.

“Uh, excuse me, but I was going to buy this first?” I say, turning around to see the blond man towering over me.

“You are? My bad.” He let go of the bag and walked over to another corner of the shop. Well, he’s not out of breath and he’s a gentleman. Wow. Now that he had let me have the bag, I felt a bit bad about telling him off, as he was so kind to me and didn’t even argue at all. So I held the bag and walked over to him.

“Hey, do you want to share?” I asked him, and he turned from the pineapple buns to look at me, “I mean we live in the same building so we can just split it in half? I’ll pay.”

“And you’d think I’d let you pay, huh? Yeah we can split, but a pretty lady like you should let the gentleman pay for you.” He grabs the bag of bread and quickly pays for it, I was so shocked and confused, but I guess it was just a kind gesture so I didn’t think too much about it.

“Now let’s go.” He hands me half a pack, I guess he had the cashier split it into two bags.

“Thank you.” I say, trying to sound more polite and elegant. “So, see you around?”

A moment of silence passed, and the two of us stand in front of the bakery, both not talking. Then he breaks the silence.

“You mean you aren’t planning to eat it together?”

“I mean…” I look them and fiddle with my fingers, “If it’s alright with you.”

“Of course it is, what do you mean?” He say, a bit louder honestly. He immediately bowed down though, apologising for raising his voice. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“What?” I stand there confused, “No you did not? Stop please. Let’s just go eat the bread, yeah?”

“Okay.” He stood up and held my hand, “Let’s go over there then.”

We walked over to the bench, his hand felt warm against mine. I couldn’t help but blush at the contact as I deliberately followed him. Now that I’m just walking behind him, I can feel his strong presence around me. The butterflies in my stomach churning, and I have never felt something like that. It felt as if we held hands any longer my heart might burst. Oh, is that how people crush on people? It’s not love, right? Right?

He sat down on the bench and asked me to do the same, “Please sit down.” He’s such a gentleman.

I sat down next to him, the space between us not more than the length of my palms. Don’t get me wrong, I love how close we are and how we looked just like a ‘couple in love’.

“Should we eat?” I ask him, breaking the awkward silence. He just nods in reply as he hands me his bottle of hand sanitiser. I thank him and sanitise my hands, “Thanks.” Then I open my bag of bread and start munching on a piece. I look over at him and he was doing the same thing.

“Hey,” He starts, “Do you know me?”

“You’re my upstairs neighbour yeah?”

“Actually we are in the same econ class in college.”

“Really? How come I never noticed?” I take another bite out of my bread.

“Probably because I sit at the back?”

“You do?” I gasp, “Wait so you know how useless the professor is too?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. Oh, he finally smiled. His smile looks so precious, like the first ray of light shining out of the horizon in the morning. I felt as if an eclipse was occurring as we lock eyes with each other. The feeling so romantic and fresh just like the morning breeze, and that I didn’t want it to end. This moment, this instant was so cinematic I wanted to put it into a movie. So when he leaned in to brush away the bread crumbs near my lips, my heart almost jumped out of my chest. But it’s not that I mind giving my heart to him, he seems like a man to guard it with his life. A gentleman. One that I longed for. Is this the ‘it’s him’ feeling?

“You had some crumbs on your face. I’m sorry if I was too close…” He trailed off, losing his smile and he started frowning again. Him frowning makes him age a lot faster, he looked at least ten years older when he does that.

“Oh no, it’s alright. Thank you for helping me wipe it off though.” I chuckle, and he smiled again. Now that’s the young man look.

He looked at his watch and checked the time, it was ten already. “It’s time for me to get to my part time job. See you around, gorgeous.”

I stared at him blankly, still in shock how fast time had passed while we were together I didn’t even notice the pet name he gave me. As he walked away from where we were sitting, I yelled to him, “Wait, what’s your name?”

He stopped in his tracks, and turned around to look at me. The wind blowing his half gelled up hair into the perfect places, it seemed like a scene in a movie where the protagonists kiss under the cherry blossoms in spring. His gaze was soft too, like he was looking at me as if I was a fragile vase that would break at any harsh contact. Then he came closer to me again, leaning towards my ear, whispering, “It’s Kento, Nanami Kento. See you later, love.”

He simply sprinted away after this interaction. I just stood there like an awkward little child before the redness coloured my cheeks, leaving me in a blushing mess, and all that I could think about was him and his smile.

“Kento,” I whispered. “It’s such a nice name…”

He’s the guy, he’s my soulmate. I have found him.

master list

Love Me Like You Do

Juice Ortiz X Reader Fic

*Hello my dears! Please be patient with me as this is my 1st SOA fic! Thought I’d try it out here with you wonderful peeps! Now, a little about this story:

Reader is Opie’s half little sister (we’re going to say they share Piney as a dad, she has a different mother than Ope)

She returns home to Charming to own her own business

Reader is plus sized (since that is what I identify as and can write from personal experience)

This may not follow the seasons. It’s an idea that popped in my head from the song it’s named after. I hope you enjoy it! Please, feedback is appreciated!*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~He was the missing piece I didn’t know I needed until he walked into my life. The day I returned home, that’s when I met him. That was the day my life changed. ~

I stood in the middle of the old building, just coming from signing the paperwork to make it mine, for a cheap price I might add, from the old man who used to own it. I couldn’t help but smile. My smile grew bigger as I heard the motorcycles pulling up out front. This is what I had been waiting for.

My back was still turned to the doors as they opened, sending a ray of sunlight in, illuminating the place better.

“We’re looking for the new owner of this old place. Know where I can find him?” A deep voice boomed in the almost empty space.

I chuckled. “Yeah, but it’s not a him. I just bought it off of old man Sinsom.”

“I know that voice.”

“Me,too.”

I smiled as I turned to see my older half brother Opie and his best friend, Jax, standing in front of Jax’s stepfather.

“Hello, boys. It’s good to see you.”

Opie laughed as he strode over and pulled me into a hug. “(Y/N)! When did you get back?”

“Today. Well, last night actually. Drove up so I could sign the papers making this place mine.” I waved my hands around me.

“It’s good to see you, Darlin.” Jax said as he hugged me tight.

“You, too.” I stood back and looked at them. “I see you grew up and got VP Teller.”

Jax nodded. “Yeap.”

I looked at the other guys standing behind them. “Well, I’ll be damned! Is that Tiggy?”

Tig smiled and opened his arms. “Hey, baby. It’s good to see you all grown up.”

I gave him a hug, him being my second favorite when I grew up around here. “It’s only been three years since I last seen you.”

“Hi, Bobby. It’s good to see you, too.”

“You, too, sweetheart. You’re old man’s gonna have a fit when he sees you.”

“Speaking of, where is he?”

Bobby nodded his head towards the door. “He’s comin’. Takes him a few to get around with the oxygen.”

Just then, the doors opened and in walked Piney. The man still looked the same as he did three years ago. I couldn’t help the smile on my face when I seen him.

“Hi, daddy.”

“My god. (Y/N). You’re back. Come here, sweetheart.” He smiled.

I gave him a hug and just held him. I had missed him the last few years, I missed them all. He held me in front of him by my shoulders and looked me up and down. “Still as beautiful as ever.”

“Oh, Opie. You didn’t tell me he’d went senile.”

Opie laughed. “He gets that way sometimes.”

“What? No love for me? I’m wasting away over here.”

I turned to see Clay with an arrogant smirk on his face. I gave him a quick hug. “It’s good to see you, Clay. How’s Gemma?”

He shrugged. “She’s good. Be glad to see you.”

I nodded. Before I could say anything else, there was the sound of someone clearing their throat.

“Oh, shit. Sorry, man. (Y/N), this is Juice. He’s been with us a few years now. Juice, this is my baby sister, (Y/N).” Opie said as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

I held out my hand to the younger of them. “Nice to meet you.”

He nodded. “You, too.”

He took my hand and I swore I could feel electricity run through my fingers at his touch. I cleared my throat and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“So, sweetheart, what brings you back to Charming?” Dad asked.

“Well, I came back to get a new start. Mom’s pissed at me. Grandfather passed away a few months ago and left me everything. And I mean everything. She got pissed when he left her out the will. Saying, and I quote, ‘I leave all my monetary and physical possessions, including the house and vehicles, to my only granddaughter, who was my world when no one else loved me in my final years. To my daughter, I leave you with nothing but the hopeful guilt you feel for abandoning your family. May you rot in hell.’”

“Holy shit! Seriously?” Jax asked, amused.

I nodded. “Yeap. And the best part is, she cannot touch anything. I sold the house after he died. It was just us the last three years and I wanted to come home. So I sold the house and all but one car.”

“So, what are you doing with this old place?” Clay asked.

“I’m going to do what I’ve always wanted to do. Own my own business. And what better way than to open up a roadside bar on the outskirts of Charming?”

“Really? That’s what you’ve always wanted to do?” Tig asked.

“Yeah. Got my business degree online while I was taking care of Grandfather and took all the right courses to get all my licenses. Found this place while looking to come home and here I am.”

“What do you need from us, darlin?”

“Some labor. I got to get this place up to code. I’m calling tomorrow to get people in here to work on the wiring and the old kitchen. I just need some help to take everything out and clean up. Plus I got to find a tech wizard to help me set up security cameras.”

“We can do that. Got a prospect that can come and we got our own tech wizard.” Jax clapped Juice in the shoulder. “Juice here is the best when it comes to all that techy shit.”

I looked at the young Puerto Rican and smiled. “Well, Juice, looks like the two of us will become friends if your as good as they say you are.”

He gave me a shy smile. “Yeah. Maybe so.”

I clapped my hands together. “Well, as wonderful as this family reunion is, I want a shower and some takeout.”

“Where you staying?” Dad asked.

“Place has a little house out back. It’s semi furnished enough to stay in tonight until my stuff arrives tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you come to the house. Surprise Donna and the kids. Have dinner with us.”

“Okay. I’ll be there. Seven?”

Opie nodded. “Yeah. See you tonight.” He hugged me and kissed the side of my head.

After hugging all the guys, minus Juice, I waved them off, noticing Juice was the last one out. I smiled to myself as I walked out the back door to my little apartment house to get ready for dinner.

METANOIA [5]

✩ pairing: wolf hybrid nj x cheetah hybrid reader (f) - eventual ot7 x reader

✩ genre: soul-searching , romance🔞 , found-family , healing , angst , happy ending

✩ word count: 5.7k

✩ chapter warnings: uncertainty in behavior and emotions , anxiety , mention of weight and insecurities (happens once at the end, only mc is negative towards her own weight) , arguments / angsty feels

✩ summary: She doesn't know. There is so much about her and her cheetah that she hasn't had the privilege to understand. Unknown backgrounds and unknown emotions clash with feelings of want- hopes of being herself unapologetically. Namjoon seems to be someone that can help her- but can the rest of his pack truly be what she has wanted and needed?

✩ cover: me

ch.1 , ch.2 , ch.3 , ch.4 , ch.5 , ch.6

Y/N

“I already regret having you two meet.” 

Namjoon sits across from the two cheetahs at the picnic table. The watermelon Maria cut for them is split between their personal plates only. None sit on Namjoon’s. 

“You were too slow.” Taehyung shrugs as he eats a slice. 

“She brought them out while I was in the bathroom.” Namjoon deadpans, eyeing them both to get a reaction of pity as they eat without replying. 

Y/N eyes Taehyung to gauge his reaction. Honestly, she has no problem sharing, but while Namjoon was gone, Taehyung made sure to give her a full plate of pieces. The offer of his feels like something more than just generous sharing. Taehyung isn’t even looking his way as Namjoon waits for him to reply. Y/N tries her best to be discreet as she slides her plate towards Namjoon. The sound and movement immediately catches Taehyung’s attention. 

He stops the plate when it gets to the middle of the table. He looks to Y/N and gives a firm headshake. 

“That’s yours. Not his.” 

“If he wants a couple it’s okay.” She gives another nudge of the plate into Taehyung’s hand. 

“I gave those to you.” Taehyung states. Y/N isn’t sure if he knows that a small pout is showing, but she suppresses the smile that dares to show itself on her face. 

“You can just…give me a couple of yours and he can have a couple of mine.” Y/N suggests, giving him a nonchalant shrug. It doesn’t take him long to give her a pointed sigh and pass two of his own pieces of watermelon to Namjoon.

“You’re too kind.” Namjoon gives a pointed look at Taehyung, “Thank you Y/N.” He gives her a warm smile that she returns as she eats into a piece of her own. They seem playful and young despite how put together they are. Well, she knows nothing about Taehyung, but she definitely knows Namjoon is truly well put together. 

“Can I ask how old you are?” Y/N looks between the two. “You know I’m 25, but- I mean I’m just curious.”

“28.” Taehyung replies with no qualms. 

“29.” 

“Wow, you’re younger than I thought.” 

Both men give each other a look before staring at Y/N.

“Do we look old?” Namjoon asks incredulously. 

“Oh, no!” She shakes her head quickly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean- you guys seem to be doing very well, so I thought you were a little older.”

“I was really rethinking our friendship.” Namjoon says, making her laugh. “We’re doing good, but we’re all still just trying to figure it out- life.” He gives a shrug. 

Taehyung seems to be tired of the conversation as he changes it without questions or remorse. 

“You like art?” He asks without taking his eyes from Y/N. His attention only causes the slightest discomfort, a feeling of vulnerability that she seems to have only around these two guys. 

“I do, but I don’t know much. I told Namjoon I’d like to try it myself.” 

“I can show you.”

She gives a questioning look to Namjoon, hoping this is something she can do, hoping that this isn’t overstepping some boundary. He just gives her another nod and a smile. 

“I’d like that, but, would we do it here? I feel bad for having you guys come here.” 

“You can come over.” Taehyung says like it’s obvious. 

“Oh, no. No, I can’t do that.” She rushes to answer back, looking away from them both to now stare at her empty plate. 

“He has a studio. It’s not in our house but it is on the land. I’ll ask the guys about it tonight. But, it should be fine.” Namjoon assures. She wants to bring up bigger concerns than invading their privacy, but to be honest, all her concerns about the visit are pressuring. 

“I’ll-” Just as she was about to answer, ‘I’ll think about it,’ she’s looking over at Taehyung to tell him- a look of hope fills his face. He needs this as much as she hopes for a genuine relationship. They’ve been nothing but nice to her. She can talk to Namjoon about her worries later, for now, she can be honest with herself and them.

“I’d like to, if everyone is okay with it. I’ll keep to myself.” 

“Taehyung doesn’t allow any of those clumsy guys into his studio, don’t worry.” Namjoon assures. 

“You’re the only clumsy one- I just don’t want anyone in there.” Taehyung gives Namjoon a knowing smile. The confession passes over their heads while Y/N processes what he said. He doesn’t want anyone in there- but he invited her. 

“She also likes games, you can show her the ones you like.” Namjoon suggests. Y/N realizes why he’s doing this. Instead of just giving her some unwanted things of theirs, he wants a way for Taehyung to keep that connection. A jump start for them. 

“I have some.” The vague answer makes her anxious. She doesn’t want to intrude or use things he doesn’t want her messing with. Despite her worries, she doesn’t bring them up now. They both seem more than happy to suggest random things while she tries to deny. There’s no hope for her to decline while they’re both with her. 

Taehyung

The house holds a warmth that he just loves. Maybe it’s just the day he had, maybe he’s just sentimental after all the good things going on at the moment. It doesn’t matter as long as the good can stay. He’d love it if he felt like this for a long time. 

“Okay, spill. You made us wait until you guys came home to tell us what this little adventure was.” 

The sight and smell of the fox is always a welcome one. It doesn’t matter that his outside clothing is still on, he captures the oldest in a tight hug, taking in his scent as much as possible. 

“Someone’s in a good mood.” Seokjin pulls the younger in with a firmer hold. “My pretty kitty.” Taehyung can’t even be mad at the name of endearment. He’d usually push it off and wave off their babying- but today it feels nice. “Wow, someone’s in a really good mood. What did you do, Namjoon?”

“Me?! My god, just ask the clingy one. I’m sure he’d be happy to tell everyone.”

The others wait with expectation rather than bulldozing over the two after their long days. With three cats in the house, the cuddle sessions last far longer than anyone needs them to be. (Though, everyone does like them, they just don’t want to admit it sometimes.)

“I met another cheetah today.”

Taehyung isn’t one for explaining. At least not when he thinks it’s unnecessary. He’s straightforward enough. 

“Wait,” Seokjin grabs the cheetah by his shoulders, pulling him away to look at him. “What do you mean?” Thankfully, Namjoon knows when to help him out when he’s not in the mood for verbal conversation. 

“The cub I come home smelling like- the organization found her.”

“You met her today?” Jimin asks. The only other wolf in the pack is just as special to him as Namjoon is. They both seem to understand him more than the others. Instead of answering verbally, he turns to Jimin and wraps him up while the others stand in shock. 

“How was it?” The wolf in his ear asks. 

Namjoon

He knows the others are happy for Taehyung. He knows that they want the best for him. They wouldn’t have joined his pack and trusted Namjoon if it wasn’t for that fact. But, he also isn’t surprised by the skeptical faces from the more hesitant members. The skepticism shows their want to protect Taehyung from this hybrid they don’t know. The more concerning aspect is one he knows they don’t want to bring up. 

-

The pack gets settled after dinner, especially after Taehyung is ready for bed early upon returning home from an emotionally exhausting excursion and having more conversations than he’d like to. 

Namjoon ends his day in his office like usual, finishing up daily reports and doing some research he knows he’ll have to do as soon as possible. Just as he thought, he does his research at the perfect time- as he’s shutting off his PC there are footsteps that stop at his door and wait for him to finish his work. He wastes no time leaving his office.

Seokjin.

Without any words, Namjoon gives a nod towards the kitchen where the sliding doors that lead to the backyard are. They put a lot of work into their home and the surrounding land. Despite being in a neighborhood not far from the city, they wanted a place that would suit both of their halves. Their backyard was one of the main factors that pushed them to buy- that and the neighborhood itself. 

The grassy space is filled with trees that surround the perimeter where the fence wraps around and randomly throughout the open space. A veranda covers the immediate part of the house and extends more than the usual ones do just to allow them to create a cemented dining area. Other than the small shed Taehyung turned into his studio, the space is open and welcoming, allowing the two to stand at the rail that lines on one side of the veranding and look out at the night sky. 

“I understand you kept this from us because she’s with the organization- but why didn’t you let any of us know there was another cheetah?” Despite his fox traits, Seokjin is one of the most level-headed, mature people Namjoon has ever met. He’ll always want to know information and will be the second-hand to Namjoon’s boat load of responsibilities. He’s always thankful for his fox. 

“I didn’t want him to feel pressured in meeting her. You know he doesn’t like meeting new people. I wanted to give him the time to decide for himself.” Namjoon explains, his voice tired from the day. 

“You knew what he’d want to do. Of course he’d want to meet her.” Seokjin replies, dancing around what he actually wants to say. 

“We both know why you’re bringing it up like this- just say it.” Namjoon finalizes. Seokjin waits a few breaths before finally answering. 

“What if he wants her to be part of the pack? What if his mating instincts kick in and he goes stir crazy around us?” 

“I didn’t think our worries were at the top of the list when I talked to him about it. Seokjin, this is about finally finding another cheetah- this isn’t about anything else except what he wants right now.” Seokjin waits for a scolding from the pack leader that never comes. “We are going to stand by him while he figures out what he wants. Because everyone in this pack has a right to meet others and form relationships. You’re the one that met Hoseok first- you’re the one that confessed to me that you were scared about your feelings. Why would you think about Taehyung’s feelings so negatively?” Seokjin doesn’t wait to reply. 

“Hoseok was close with all of us not long after. Hoseok wasn’t apart of the organization for-”

“I was part of the organization.” Namjoon keeps his voice level, but the assertiveness is there for him to get a hold of Seokjin. “Her past is the least of our problems at the moment. She’s opening up to me, she’s learning to function in a society she was never a part of. She’s a cheetah hybrid- she needs people that she can rely on, people like her.” 

“Everyone is worried that he’ll prefer her over his pack.”

“You know how loyal he is- I know how loyal he is- and that should be enough to convince yourselves that it will be fine. He’s not full animal, Seokjin. He’s not going to run-off and start his own pack. That’s not how this works, and you know that. You can’t turn your worries into harsh words and speculations.” Namjoon turns to him fully, leaning his hip on the railing. 

“Did he mention what he wanted out of it?” Seokjin has yet to look him in the eye as they talk. 

“No. But, I’m sure he’ll let us know if he wants something more- ya’ know, like a good member of the pack.” Namjoon doesn’t mean to let the attitude slip, but why is Seokjin pushing this hard? 

“You’d tell us too, right? If your feelings towards someone we don’t know change?”

Just as the pack leader is about to ask why the change in subject was made, Jungkook knocks on the glass doors to get their attention. They both put on a smile immediately for the youngest of the pack. The last thing they’d both want to do is cause worry in the newest member of their pack. 

Jungkook slides the door open just a crack, “Are you guys coming to bed, soon? Taehyung is asking for you both.”

“Just give us a few minutes, bun.” Namjoon answers with a nod. He waits for the youngest to close the door and walk towards their shared room before turning back to Seokjin. 

“Let him have this. Give him some time- just as everyone else got without a second thought- and then we can figure it out. He let everyone introduce another person without any qualms- he adapted. You guys can as well.” His voice is lower and less assertive than before, now he’s just lining his words with hope. “He wants her to open up to him- he invited her to his studio because she told me she wants to learn about art. She’s wanting hobbies and she wants to work and try new things-”

“I’m not a bad person because I’m worried. And I’m not gonna suggest he never see her again. He can do what he wants- obviously. But you are not as transparent as you think you’re being. There’s something you’re not telling me- and I won’t care because I trust you with everything I am. But, please don’t hurt our pack because you're holding something back from us.” Seokjin begs with authority. 

“I would never do that.” 

“Never do it then.” Seokjin leaves without another word, sliding the door closed behind him. Namjoon waits a reasonable amount of time before heading up and into the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed

-

Thursday mornings mean the chance to sleep in a little longer with Yoongi. The rare cuddle sessions are nice when Namjoon enjoys being in the middle of their bed while Yoongi likes the outer areas in his panther form. Human Yoongi is more cuddly than his panther counterpart. Namjoon loves it. And he definitely needs it at the moment.

Namjoon waits for the others to slip out of bed and get ready for work and their day one by one- leaving him and the black panther snuggled into the blankets. Yoongi lifts his head to look around when he feels Namjoon’s stare. The cat stretches out, a deep noise rolling in his chest. 

The panther makes his way under the covers, following his daily routine, shifting under the covers to keep warm and quickly move up into Namjoon’s arms. Namjoon immediately settles them into a position they both find the most comfortable. It’s muscle memory to them now, the push and pull of soothing each other during the middle of the week stresses. Yoongi rubs his cheek into the warmth of Namjoon’s chest and gives a couple chirps he needs to get out before pulling his face from the crevice. 

“None of us think you’d hurt us, Namjoon-ah.” Yoongi’s tired voice murmurs up at him. It’s not hard to piece together who he’s talking about. Namjoon stills for a second but releases a sigh and gives the older a quick squeeze. 

“You guys heard it all?” 

“Luckily, Taehyung was already asleep- he was in and out, wanting you guys in the nest- but of course we did.” Namjoon looks over at the still open window they keep open in the warm seasons. 

“I’m sorry, I totally spaced that.”

“It’s not your fault, you have no reason to apologize. If anything, all of them needed to hear it. They were all ‘iffy’ about what Taehyung would want contradicting someone else’s wants.” Yoongi gets comfy again in Namjoon’s neck after the reassuring words. 

“Thank you, Yoongi.” Namjoon presses his lips into the cat’s hair to stay there.

“For what?” 

“Everything, I guess. For letting me know, For enjoying my presence as much as I enjoy yours.” Namjoon lets out a huff of a laugh. 

“Your bite mark is forever near my ass and I suck your dick at least once a week. I’d hope you know by now that I more than enjoy having you around.” Yoongi murmurs into his neck, pulling a rumbling laugh from Namjoon. 

“You like being marked up though- maybe anyone could do that.” Namjoon pulls away from him slightly to pepper kisses into Yoongi’s bare shoulder, trailing to his neck. Yoongi immediately opens up to the other predator, exposing his neck willingly to pull him in more. “See, you’re all ready to be marked up so early in the day.” Namjoon smiles into his kisses, nipping at the sensitive skin near Yoongi’s ear. 

“Only by you. Only marks from you.” Yoongi’s deep mumbles confirm, stretching to give his pack leader the most access to his skin. 

“Let’s mark you up then.”

-

Y/N

After her day yesterday, Y/N declined Maria’s request to go grocery shopping. She isn’t that tired but she wants to rest after the emotional toll it took on her from odd instincts and feelings blooming. 

She hasn’t had the house to herself yet, despite being here for about a month now. Maria hasn’t let her be alone, which is nice, but the quiet residing in the house right now is perfect. It’s what she was used to before the organization found her. It’s bittersweet. 

She still can’t find something interesting to watch- it’s really not her favorite pastime. She beat the game on her phone and doesn’t care to find something similar in her little time she has alone. To be honest, her interest is mainly focused on going outside. Not the backyard, not the surrounding neighborhood. She wants to do something. Namjoon won’t be there for hours, and Taehyung has no way to contact her.

Maybe she should try going on her own. She’s allowed to. The progression of hybrid inclusion in the ‘human’s’ society is in a spot where she can live as any other human. But, that doesn’t mean that all humans will be nice to her and accept her. She also can’t let their opinion of her dictate how she lives and what she does. Maybe she should just-

A knock sounds at the door as she thinks in circles. With the curtains open and the windows behind the tv directly at the front of the house- there’s really no way the person that came up to the door didn’t see her sitting there. She curses at herself for not paying attention while she’s home alone. 

Not tip-toeing, but her light footsteps lead her to the front door with no sound. Lifting the peephole cover with the utmost carefulness, she winks into the little glass hole hoping it’s someone familiar. 

She’s more than surprised to see light brown hair and a matching pair of cheetah ears. It’s like she wished it into existence- someone to do something with. She opens the door quickly, letting the taller cheetah see her in the crack of the door big enough only for her to squeeze through. 

“Hi.” Is all she can think of to say at first. 

“Hi.” He mimics. 

“Why- uh, what are you doing here?” 

“Sorry for coming unannounced, I would’ve asked if I had your number but- I was wondering if you wanted to do something. Outside.” Taehyung’s mannerisms are a little nervous looking, but he always sounds so confident when he speaks. 

“Actually, I would. Let me tell Maria first, just in case-” She pulls her phone from sweatpants pocket, “oh, you can come in, sorry.” She gives a nervous laugh but Taehyung just enters with a soft smile. 

With a quick call, Y/N finds out Maria doesn’t mind at all and that she just needs to make sure to take the spare key and lock all the doors before leaving. 

“Ok, I’m good to go then- what did you have in mind?” She asks, making sure to pocket the key and her phone. 

“I haven’t had breakfast yet, so we can do that if you’d like, then maybe shopping?”

“Shopping? Taehyung, I don’t have any money at the moment.” She replies with less confidence. She really wishes she had a job by now- especially with all the things she’d like to do. But, her doctor is hesitant with her lack of social interaction. 

“I mainly need to buy a few supplies, but I'm not really one that likes to go out alone, and I wanted to spend time with you.” 

“Oh- that sounds perfect then." She gives him a genuine smile. He's reaching out to her with no problem- she'd usually shy away from this, but Namjoon has really helped her open up faster. It also helps that he's so close to Namjoon. With the odd connection they seem to have and the trust building slowly but surely, Y/N doesn't mind agreeing despite her disinterest with going out earlier. 

She double checks the locks, making sure the key is in her pocket more times than necessary. Taehyung leads her towards the driveway- the empty driveway. 

"Um, how'd you get here?"

"Walk." He gestures with his arms like it's obvious. 

"Oh that's- that sounds nice actually." She closes the gap between them to walk directly beside him.

"I don't like public transport and I don't like to always drive. Cars make me anxious. I didn't want you to feel unsafe with me if I wasn't confident." 

Taehyung seems to know exactly where to go, confidently choosing which way to go at the start of their journey.

"Don't worry, I'm not the best with them either. The motion still makes me uncomfortable most times." 

The conversation dies down to a silence she can’t tell is comfortable or not. With Taehyung, she’s not sure yet. He seems so sure of himself, confident in his choices and how when he wants to talk to her, but he’s also quiet and doesn’t seem to have a whole lot to talk about. She wants to talk more, especially if they’re walking around for who-knows-how long. 

“So, what supplies do you need?” She asks as sure as she can. 

“Some stuff for my studio.” He doesn’t explain any further. 

“Oh. Well, what were you thinking for breakfast?” 

“Whatever you want is what I want.” He answers, stopping Y/N in her tracks. 

“You chose to walk blindly without knowing where we’re going?” He stops and turns to her as she stays a few steps behind. 

“It’s okay, we’ll find a way to get there, even if we start in the wrong place.” His statement causes her to physically flinch. He has to still just be talking about the damn walk route- but why does it sound like some revelatory quote. “What do you want to eat?” It takes her a few seconds before she can change the course of her thoughts. 

“I don’t care,” She stops to really think, knowing that she’s hungry and will want a way to distract herself while they hang out, “Meat. Meat sounds good.” 

“I’ll buy you meat.” He turns and walks the way they were initially going. “See, we’re going the right way.” He looks serious, but a twitch in his lips has her stifling a laugh at his demeanor that she still needs to get used to. 

-

It doesn’t take long for Taehyung to lead her to a small diner. Despite the city being so close, he doesn’t lead her to a bustling restaurant with too many scents and too many people. The diner is in the middle of the neighborhoods around the Caddel home, a part of a small ‘downtown’ looking area. 

He opens the door for her, then leads the way again, telling a lady waiting up front ‘two, and a booth if available.’ Y/N blindly follows as the smiling lady leads them to a table far in the back, where dark red, cushioned seats sit on each side of a dark brown table. The delicious smells draw her into the establishment, looking around to find their section was pretty bare, not many people were back here. With how hungry she is, she probably wouldn’t even care at the moment if there were lots of people around them. 

“Would you guys like anything to drink before ordering?” The lady asks after setting two menus down onto the tables in front of them. 

“Water and orange juice, Y/N?”

“Oh, uh…water is fine.” She gives a nervous smile. How is she supposed to tell him she’s never been out to eat like this. She doesn’t know what exactly to ask for.

“Two waters and two orange juices, please.” Taehyung answers before she can leave. 

“Of, course. I’ll be right back with those.” She gives another kind smile before leaving them alone. 

“They hand squeeze the orange juice here, it’s good.” He points out before gesturing to her to look at the menu. 

“Sorry, I’ve- I’ve never been out to eat.” She leans forward and whispers the last part despite not many people being in their section. She’s not ashamed of her lack of experience in otherwise normal scenarios, but there’s something embarrassing about being too anxious to even ask questions and risk messing up. 

Taehyung leans forward to meet her halfway, their distance closer than they’ve ever been. 

“Do you want me to order for you?” 

She nods her head quickly in reply. 

“Please.” 

“Here you guys are.” The two separate quickly. The lady gives her a smile she can’t place when she sets the two separate drinks in front of Y/N- not giving Taehyung the same look. “Are you ready to order, or do you need more time?” 

“We’re good.” Taehyung starts, waiting for the lady to pull out her pad and pen. “Can we do one american breakfast with extra sausage and a side of bacon, sourdough for the toast, and then the loaded breakfast sandwich with hash browns for the side.”

“Sounds good, anything else?” 

“Do you have fresh syrup today?”

“Yes.”

“A stack of buttermilk pancakes with the strawberry syrup. And that’s it.” 

She watches in awe as he simply answers, asks, and states, knowing exactly how to respond with respect and care. It’s such a simple thing, but she really has no idea how he does it with no effort. She isn’t one that likes to talk to strangers, but she’ll have to get used to it no matter what. If she has new experiences with Taehyung and Namjoon she could get there. 

It doesn’t matter where she started. She’ll get there. 

“Thank you again.” She tells Taehyung once the lady takes the menus and leaves them alone once again. 

“No worries.” He gives her a kind smile that she can’t seem to get enough of. He isn’t one to allow his facial expression to show much, so the times he does are so nice. “We come here a lot as a pack, so I know what’s good.” 

She grows uncomfortable under the mention of their pack. She doesn’t want him to get the wrong idea, so she gives him a matching smile and nod in understanding. 

She distracts herself with the orange juice she has yet to touch. The straw that was left behind grabs her attention, opening the paper haphazardly and taking a sip of the bright liquid. It’s perfect. The taste is fresh and sweet with the perfect ripeness of the oranges. She looks up to Taehyung with large eyes, he only gives her a knowing smile in response. She drinks the liquid down fast even if she doesn’t want to. It’s just too good. 

“Could I ask you something?” He suddenly asks. 

“Sure.” She swallows the last of the juice and answers. 

“Have you ever shifted?” Despite her comfort with him, her tail still wraps around her waist where she always keeps it. 

“No.” She shakes her head and looks down to play with the pulp at the bottom of her cup. 

“Would you…want to?” He asks again. 

“Of course I do.” She answers honestly, still keeping her gaze from his. “But, I don’t know the first thing about that part of me.”

“I want to be someone that can help you.” He says with no hesitation. “I want to be here for you when you don’t know what to do, or what to think about how you feel. It all can be confusing and intimate- but I know I can be there for you if you let me.” 

He’s upfront about what he wants, taking her aback with how earnest he sounds. This is probably the most he’s said at once and it all sounds too good to be true. 

“I don’t want to rely on you all the time, Taehyung. That’s exhausting for you.”

“You can. I want you to.” Y/N wants to decline as nicely as possible, her eyebrows scrunched together and worry in her expression. She can’t ask that of him even if she wants it- wants to become closer to him. In her silence he tries again, “You don’t have to let me know now, but- did you feel it? When we first met.”

She immediately looks up at him to gauge his reaction to the feeling that she now knows he felt as well. All he shows her is hopeful yearning when he waits for a reply. 

“Yes.” She answers.

“It’s from our cheetahs, it’s the special connection we can have as hybrids. It could be many things, but as long as we feel it we know that we will care for each other. We’ll want to be there and have some type of relationship. I want to help you, because of the connection, because we’re similar, and because I don’t want to lose the chance to have you close.” 

She watches him as he speaks. His ears bend down into his hair to barely be seen. His eyes are downcast below pinched eyebrows. If Y/N could guess, they probably look very similar at the moment. Especially when he’s taking the time to search her face as well. Her heart squeezes at her want to please him and to have another opportunity to do something for herself. 

“Okay.” As she answers, the lady comes up with a large tray of fresh smelling food. Setting the plates down wherever Taehyung points and makes room for. Y/N is stuck watching him. His confidence shows in every movement he makes- just as it shows in Namjoon. Some mannerisms are shared between them, some of them are new and fascinating to navigate. Both of them are too kind, though. They share that trait of being considerate and genuine. She’s still not used to that either.

“First, it’s an instinct to make sure you eat well. When I give you something, it’s yours. Not Namjoon’s.” He gives her a pointed look that makes her shrink a little at the memory, a sheepish smile showing itself to him. He gives her a cheeky smile back as he maneuvers items onto each of their own plates. Half of the sandwich and all the meat from the other plate he ordered are set onto her plate, while he’s left with the other half with eggs and hashbrowns that he also seems to be splitting to share with her. 

“I’m not going to be able to eat all of that.”

“As long as you don’t share it with anyone. I just want to make sure you eat enough, and that you’re healthy.” 

The comment is light and common, but she shrinks a little more at the implications of it. She’s skinnier than she should be. She has been gaining weight well, as the doctor’s orders. But she hasn’t been eating enough to make it very noticeable. 

“I’m trying to look better.” She quiets down, not wanting to share her insecurity but she knows he’s right. She looks up to find him staring at her as he finishes splitting the food. 

“Y/N, I don’t mean how you look. You’re beautiful- I’d think so no matter what. Making sure you’re fed is an animal instinct. The same way you wanted Namjoon to eat when he was with us. It shows we care about the other. It showed me that you care about Namjoon.” He pushes her plate towards her as she sits stunned at the explanation and the compliment. 

“Our instincts are entirely primal, they aren’t embarrassing or shameful. If you’re uncomfortable being fed and taken care of just tell me, but- usually, we all really like it.” Taehyung finishes by switching full orange juice with her empty one. 

The truth is, she doesn’t just like being taken care of. She’d do anything to make sure Taehyung and Namjoon stay in her life so they can all care for each other. She wants to repay them. To show how much she truly cares as well. 

“Try it.” Taehyung urges as she stares at him with an expression she can’t figure out anymore. 

She finally looks down at her finished plate, the smells just under her nose are now potent and too good to resist. She goes for the yummy-looking sausage first, pushing her fork into it and lifting it up to her lips. The first bite is juicy and soft, the flavor bursting out. 

“Mmm, Maria never cooked something like this. She follows a diet the doctor recommended. Sausage is definitely not on it.” She babbles after experiencing the first bite. She takes a few more greedy bites of the sausage, then moves to the sandwich, ditching the fork to use her hands.

“Ooh my god. I’ll only eat with you from now on if it’s all this good.” 

He doesn’t reply, only watches and eats his own food with a smile. 

I know that, to a lot of people, what I’m about to say is unimportant. But I just wanted to put this out there to the general public of people who follow my content.

I have been writing for years. I have written stories, short and long, since I was in Pre-School, and I’ve kept with that passion since. I love creating complex characters and dynamics, creating worlds and landscapes of my own because- fuck, it’s fun!

And as I’ve grown older, I’ve expanded my work. I’ve done short story commissions once or twice for friends at school because they want to see their own original characters come to life! I created a Tumblr blog (this very one) because I loved seeing the passion people put into writing fan works!

And do you want to know something else really cool? I co-wrote a play for my old highschool. I preformed my own scene on stage with others and I fucking loved it. And after that I decided I wanted to be a screenwriter! Because, holy shit! I genuinely cannot imagine my own work being put onto a big screen, my passion shown to the world!

But now? It’s hard to thing about. The WGA and SAG-AFTRA are on strike, the WGA since May 2nd and SAG-AFTRA since July 14th. They (the WGA) are fighting for wages that they can live on. That is the bare fucking minimum.

I don’t want to come across like I’m oh so unique for stating this, because I sure as hell am not, but- this up and coming generation of individuals who have similar ideas like mine, wanting to put their writing on screen and share their thoughts with the world, have to understand that this is real and this will not stop unless something is done.

I’m not off-put by this and this isn’t going to influence my decision of coming into this field, but it’s a slap to the face. A bucket of ice water dumped over my head. When I grew up, I’d always watch the end credits of films and television shows to, in my little head, thank everyone who worked on the piece.

I always thought that everyone who worked on these became rich because they worked on movies and television. Like- how could they not be paid fair? They worked and worked and worked on these things to make what I was watching real!

And now, wanting to go into that field and seeing so many people- my idols having to fight for basic things, it’s heartbreaking but it also motivates me even more.

As a fan-fiction writer, it’s especially interesting. Do you want to know why I and many others don’t do commissions for writing about fandoms? Because it can be seen as illegal. The works we write about are under certain copyright laws that we have to abide to, whether we are conscious of it or not.

Also? It’s fucking immoral! I can write all of the fan-fiction I want for free, and there’s no problem with that. But, once I start to say, “I’m opening up commissions, so you guys can pay me to write about these characters or fandoms with whatever flavoring you want! I get a profit, you get something I could post for free!” Fair, right?

I won’t ever charge for people to see the things I write because I love writing them! I want everyone to see what I write, whether it’s on a Tumblr blog or on a big screen. That’s the point of it all.

None of these writers, people who write fan-fiction included, want fucking artificial intelligence to write for us- that’s our fucking job! C.AI, ChatGPT and whatever the fuck the others are- just write what you want to see! Ask a writer to write it for you! Pray?! Don’t turn to a fucking machine and say it’s so much better than what people do for fun or, again, a living!

But you have to understand what these people in the WGA are fighting for is the right to be fairly compensated for their work. To have a wage they can live off of and not have a fear looming over them about losing what they’ve worked towards making.

This cannot be too much to ask for, because if it is? Every person, whether you write or consume these kinds of media or not, are doomed.

Pay these writers. Use your platforms for publicizing these types of important issues. Show your support.

- Joel Miller X AFAB partner - 18+, minors DNI! - Joel's POV. - Child death implied, depressive thoughts of a middle aged grump, no smut just fluff, but implies that it leads there so consume at your own risk. - 627 words - Comments/likes appreciated. Requests are open! - Joel doesn't want to celebrate his birthday, until the thought of unwrapping you changes his mind. - A/N: Wrote this to celebrate Joel's birthday. Happy birthday you piece of shit. I love writing in Joel's POV, so I would love more requests for this. Or even Javi G as a challenge!

Now, I was minding my very own business and I was going to continue to do so until the day was well and truly over but the promise of pancakes did put me in quite a predicament.

The sound cuts through me like a knife. Having one good ear meant the sounds I fucking hate are even harsher and make my brain itchy. It must be the ass-crack of dawn and she always fucking does this. She knows I don’t like making a big song-and-dance on my birthday, my birthday was the day the outbreak reached critical mass and here we are still fighting off shit-faced zombie motherfuckers and trying to rebuild civilization, not knowing if life will ever be the same again. It’s also Sarah’s remembrance day. I’d give all of my birthdays to have her back just for an hour.   And yet here she is, with one of those noise blowers that I swear I throw out every goddamn year, and a scratchy vinyl of the Beatles singing about how it’s my birthday, and I take one pillow and launch it at her while the other comes up over my head and I hope if I stay there long enough she’ll get the hint that I ain’t playing. “Happy birthday, Mr Miller.” Is it? What’s happy about it? The world is in ruins, and I’m another year older and it’s completely against my will at this point. “I made you blueberry pancakes.” Now, I was minding my very own business and I was going to continue to do so until the day was well and truly over but the promise of pancakes did put me in quite a predicament. I hated my birthday, I hated the fuss, I hated getting older, I hated missing Sarah, unfortunately for me though, I liked blueberry pancakes. I liked blueberry pancakes quite a lot.  I force my eyes open and she’s smilin’ down at me with that goddamn noise maker in one hand and a plate of blueberry pancakes in the other, dripping with maple syrup, her hair scraped back into a messy bun, her pyjamas all askew but I’ll be a son of a gun if she ain’t worth livin’ for. “You turn that shit off?” The Beatles aren’t bad, I just don’t want Paul McCartney squawkin’ at me and reminding me every second that it’s my birthday. “You’ll sit up for blueberry pancakes but not for me?” I’d do a lot more than sit up for her. ”Ellie awake?” She shakes her head and there’s a twinkle in her eye as she hands me the plate of pancakes, “No, why? You want your present?” I don’t like to be presumptuous, I ain’t never expecting shit on my day but the way those words come out of that pretty mouth I can’t help but wonder if – “What is it?” Sometimes my sweet thing runs her fingers through my hair in a way that really feels like it goes deep down into the creases of my brain, and I’m telling you now if I were a dog, my hind leg would be crankin’ like I was tryin’ to start a motorcycle. “That’s the point of a present,” she tells me, “you have to unwrap it.” That girl of mine stands by the side of the bed like she’s waiting on me to do something, and as usual I do the wrong thing and take a bite of the pancakes because the blueberries smell good and the syrup is making my mouth water but she smiles like she finds my idiocy endearing and I thank god she does because someone’s gotta. “Are you– are you my present?” She climbs in my lap and although I try and protect my plate of blueberry pancakes (if she expects me to share, she can whistle. It is my birthday after all) my day just got a little bit better. “Yes, Joel. I am your present. Happy birthday, you grumpy fuck.”

You might recall older posts featuring audio and/or quotes from Peter's June 1983 interview with NPR (such as here, here, here, and here). There are also some audio snippets on this fan page's YouTube channel. But since the full audio is too long to upload to YouTube, I transcribed the full audio interview, and thought I'd share that transcript here for anyone who might be interested in reading this snapshot of a moment in time.

Terry Gross: "Um, you wanna wait for the coffee before we start?" Peter Tork: "Yes, let’s wait for the coffee." TG: "Good. It’ll be a couple of minutes. We’re waiting for the coffee. Yeah." PT: "Push the button that says stop. [long silence] Does he have to get a key to stop the tape machine? (chuckles)" TG: "So, soon as the coffee’s ready, we’ll…" PT: "We’ll just hit it. (Speaks louder) Okay, now, the thing about the songs is, snatches, this is that, the piece of this, that’s all right, but if you put on songs, then I’m just gonna be the whole..." [recording cuts off]. TG: "Are you comfortable talking about The Monkees?" PT: "It’s a mixed bag. Sometimes I am. Actually, to tell you the truth, I’m not comfortable but it’s not because I… about talking about The Monkees, it’s because I haven’t had a cigarette since yesterday." TG: "Do you wanna light one up?" PT: "Noooo." TG: "Oh, you’re trying to stop." PT: "Well, I’m trying to put it off." TG: "(laughs) Savor it a little." PT: "Put off the next cigarette for, well, hopefully for a very long time, but just not smoke one right now." TG: "Okay. How did you first hear about the Monkees audition?" PT: "Stephen Stills called me and said, 'Go try out.'"

TG: "He auditioned?" PT: "I don’t know whether he auditioned exactly, or whether he had just met the producers socially, but… Steve was a friend of mine on the Village streets in early 60s. He, as a matter of fact, hit town and became instantly known as that guy who looks like Tork, which was my name in those days. And I ran across him on the street. I said, 'I know who you are. You’re the kid who looks like me.’ He said, 'I know who you are. You’re the kid I’m supposed to look like.’ Anyway, so we cut back again to a couple of years later, and Steve knows this guy, and it turns out to be Bob Rafelson, one of the producers, who says to him, in his own inimitable way, 'Well, we like ya a lot, but your hair and teeth are wrong for our production, they ain’t photogenic. You know anybody who looks like you who’s got good hair and teeth?’ Stephen said, 'My friend Peter.’ And so Stephen called me and said, 'Go try out for this thing.’ And I said, 'Yeah, yeah, sure, Steve, yeah, right, instant success, gimme a break.’ And he said, 'No, no, really, try out.’ 'All right, all right, all right.’ So, you know, I took my hard-earned savings, which I’d been making washing dishes at this club in southern, way southern California, fifty miles south of Hollywood, and took a bus up to Hollywood and back down again, and up and down for auditions. And eventually won the part." TG: "What was the audition like?" PT: "Well, it started off with just a huge gang of kids in the office. The office had one secretary type and two offices, one on either side. You went into which ever one was free next and if they didn’t like you, that was it. If they did like you, then you went into the next guy’s office when he was free, and if he liked you, then they sent you to this — they gave you a, what they called a personality interview: they just had the cameras running on the set of I Dream Of Jeannie or something, and they asked you questions. And then, if they thought that was… that was actually also, I think, a photogenic test — photo genesis test (chuckles): Were you born in the camera? But after that, then came the regular screen test, which was scripted, and they had a set there, and a director, and he said, 'Do this and do that, and don’t do this and do this other thing.’ And they had, by that time, had gotten down to eight guys, and they divided them up into teams of two, and each one of them did the screen test with the script and the stage actions: 'Hey, man, what’s really the matter?’ 'Aw, I don’t know, it’s about Celia, you know.’ 'Yeah, yeah, I know, man.’ Like that." TG: "So that was the audition." PT: "That was, well, that was the whole audition process." TG: "Did, did they test you for chemistry with each other, since this was a band that was put together by producers?" PT: "No, they made, they made their assumptions and shot. They said, Well, we need one of these and one of these, two from column A and one from column B." TG: "Yeah, so, so what were the types that you were supposed to fit?" PT: "Well, I actually think that what they did… They didn’t just say, 'Actually, we need one of each of these.' What they said was, 'We’re going to need a bunch of qualities and pretty much the qualities… and we need them somehow or another combined among these guys.' I think basically one of the reasons I was chosen was — I can think of two good reasons why I was chosen. One is that I brought that character of the dummy to the audition. And they needed an odd man out, a guy who is like a little, you know, slightly turned from the other guys; straight-ahead rock and roll band, and one kind of simpatico, simplicico kind of a guy, and that was my character. And so that was one of the reasons why I was chosen. The other reason I think I was chosen is because I did the screen test in one take. At least, I thought it was impressive, I hope they did, too. In any case, it was like that, I got — I was the odd man out, Davy was the little British or romantic, and then two other guys, one of them light and crazed, and the other kind of dark and serious. And so that was the way it was balanced out." TG: "Were you asked to watch Beatles movies or listen a lot to Beatles records to develop the kind of sound and image that they had?" PT: "No." TG: "Were you self-conscious of The Monkees being considered to be like a Beatles imitation band?" PT: "Well, I — there was a lot of criticism to that effect and I think I took it to heart, and now I think I took it to heart too much. Because, really, it was, I think in some ways, Micky and Davy had a healthier attitude about it as I look back on it now. They didn’t go for that imitation this or organic that, you know, they just read their scripts, they came to the studio and read their parts, and that was all they ever cared about doing. You know, 'Give me a part and pay me at the end of the week.’ That’s all. And if I’d had that attitude, I would have been a lot happier. I would have been able to not worry. Because I heard a lot of different criticisms — and it all sounded as thought it was coming from one seriously important source, to me in those days. That was how I was. And I now see that each person had their own little carping to do. For instance, nobody ever said, to, in my knowledge, in those days, that we were a bunch of talentless actors. Everybody said we were talentless musicians, but not talentless actors. Because in Hollywood, we were respected pros doing what we had to do, cranking out this stuff week in and week out. You got it out, you were a pro; that was all anybody cared about in Hollywood. And so I said, Well, at least we had that much respect.’ I later find out that the struggling New York actors crowd are calling us talentless actors. But what I heard was the struggling musicians crowd in L.A., and all of the would-be-goods that are going, Well, these guys don’t play their own instruments,’ and all that… horseradish." TG: "You find that the rap has changed about the program? Because so many people look back on it affectionately now as being, like, a real pop piece from that period?" PT: "I don’t — it’s a good question. I don’t know whether the rap itself has changed, but I’m hearing more good rap about it. Which maybe comes to the same thing." TG: (laughs) PT: "You’re laughing because I spilled my coffee." TG: "Because you spilled your coffee, yeah. Did the studio control your personal life or your image? Like, was it okay to have girlfriends?" PT: "Oh, sure." TG: "Um, was it okay to be seen with them?" PT: "It’s okay to have sex. (laughs)" TG: "(laughs) You never know with studios, like how much control they’re exerting or what they want you to look like to your public." PT: "Well, they wouldn’t let us criticize the war in Vietnam." TG: "Really?" PT: "Really." TG: "Did you want to?" PT: "Yup. I actually did, to a New York Times reporter, and they made me, asked me very seriously, very strenuously, to call her and ask her to withhold that section of the interview. And I did, and she did, she was very kind about it. But it was… I look back on it and it seems kind of silly, but I think that the whole point of the project was: don’t make waves. Look like revolutionary, look like something new, but don’t make waves. On the other hand, in the experience of an awful lot of our audience, we were something new. So I can’t knock that." TG: "Do you think you would have been more of an activist if you weren’t part of TV at the time?" PT: "I don’t know. I never did march, you know, I never did carry a sign. The only thing I ever did was a sit-down strike someplace. Not much. You know, I never really did get into activism, and I don’t know whether it’s just because I’m a flat-out coward or I have some deep understanding of the cosmic truth of the fact that it doesn’t do any good or whatever, in whatever case, that’s just — that’s what it is, I don’t do it much." TG: "Bob Rafelson, who was one of the producers of the show, is now also known as a director of such films as Five Easy Pieces. Have you kept in touch with him at all?" PT: "No." TG: "Did you, like, go to see his other movies?" PT: "I happen to have seen some of the other movies… Of course I saw Five Easy Pieces because we were still associated with those guys as that movie was being put together. I mean, Easy Rider, and then I saw Five Easy Pieces because it was Jack Nicholson who helped us make the movie Head, the Monkee movie. And, and I think, I think Jack is super. And of course, one of the things that I — I have a feeling about Jack because I see the crazy guy that he portrays on screen and I see him in life and he’s still got that, that something, you know, out of bounds is still there, and still, in his actual character, he is one of the great open-minded, open-hearted sweeties that I know. And to see a man with that, these vast, seemingly vast, differences, working and playing these crazed people on screen, and still — I mean, the reason that he’s as big a star as he is, is because he does have the capacity to be abstract about his own work. You should have heard, you should have seen what it was like working with him. He’s a great technician, which is one of the great attributes. You can’t be a crazy maniac like that and not be a good technician if you want to have a career. Because you’ll just go out of bounds without any kind of viewing. And… wow, how’d we get off on that?" TG: "Did you want to pursue acting after The Monkees?" PT: "I didn’t care what I did. I, I’m an entertainer. If I act, or play music, or like I’m doing tonight at Godfrey Daniel in Bethlehem, if I do that… I have a rock band now, it’s called The Peter Tork Project and we’ll probably be swinging through here. And we play thumping rock and roll, we just really beat the bejesus out of things and really stomp. And we have a hard time getting people to believe it, because I do my acoustic act and it depends almost entirely on rapport, and I don’t rock out too much because how much rock and roll can you do on an acoustic guitar or a piano? But… I do, so it’s very, a kind of quietish show, it’s a nice, mild show." TG: "What kind of material do you play solo?" PT: "Well, I do essentially… it’s like there’s an overlap. I do a large part of the same material in both shows. I do do some old Monkees songs, just because I know people want to hear that kind of stuff. And I do do some oldies, ‘50s rockers. And with the band, then we go on to the more heavy rock and roll, the band plays that and rockier stuff. And acoustically I play that and farther out stuff, more ballads, some… a J.S. Bach piece on the piano, one, count ‘em, one. And… like that. So, it’s old, old tunes; I play some more introspective stuff in an acoustic set." TG: "What kind of music do you listen to when you have time to listen?" PT: "Baroque, reggae, current pop from time to time if I happen — I don’t buy current pop records but I get them from my family for gifts and so on. I like Men At Work, I got that for Christmas, I thought it was great." TG: (laughs) PT: "That kind of stuff. The Police. Good — I like good music in almost every form. About the only kind of music that I really have a very hard time taking is opera, and Mozart. For some reason, Mozart I think is awful. I don’t know how come he’s so revered and so treasured. Out of about every dozen pieces that I hear, I think one is inventive and interesting, and the other seem to me just to be scales with flourishes." TG: "Well, I’ll send you all the angry mail when we get it. (laughs)" PT: "No thanks!" (laughter) TG: "Peter Tork is my guest, if you’re just joining us, who got started in, um, and came in very young when he was in The Monkees." PT: "Wait a minute, wait a — that’s not my start! I was playing in the Village for two and a half years. (jokingly) Made his mark in the entertainment industry, you might say, that, that would be fair." TG: "What kind of material were you playing in the Village?" PT: "Folk songs. Just the old folk songs, and 'Blowin’ In The Wind,' and protest songs and folk songs, five-string banjo stuff." TG: "Word was on The Monkees show that it was really studio musicians who were doing the instrumental part while The Monkees were actually doing the singing. Is that true?" PT: "The first two records. After that, we did a record all by ourselves, almost all by ourselves. And then after that, we went into a mixed mode, where it was a professional drummer and I’d be playing bass, or, you know I’d be playing guitar and we’d have a professional bass player, or something like that. At the outset it was — and the thing was that nobody was sure whether we could play, nobody had any idea of how much time. I mean, they really, you know, when you hire a professional studio musician, you know what you’re getting, you know that you can knock off a complete track of two tunes in three hours, maybe more. Just take them in, put the music in front of them, and hit it. And say, More of this, less of that, and okay, you got it. And that’s the way it goes. And they just didn’t know what it was like, and so because our services were needed most critically for making the TV series, it was just regard… also, Donnie Kirshner didn’t like to have people who couldn’t be told what to do. As a matter of fact, you may have noticed that, after he and The Monkees parted company, he decided that The Monkees were not plastic enough for him, went and did the Archies." TG: "Did he organize them also by audition?" PT: "The Archies? You’re kidding." TG: "I don’t know the whole folklore of the Archies." PT: "You know — have you ever seen an Archies comic book?" TG: "Yeah, oh! Of course. What am I thinking? Right." PT: "The Archies were those comic book characters, and whatever singers were willing to do what Kirshner paid them to do, did the records. And after that, they left. There were never any Archies, there never were. (laughs) Like I said, The Monkees were too real for Don Kirshner." TG: "Did you think of Kirshner as being an absurd character?" PT: "Yes." TG: "But powerful." PT: "Well, in his time he was powerful enough. He just was one of those characters whose set up and system happened to jibe with the commercial demand of the times. I don’t think Kirshner knew what he was doing at one level. At another level, he knew perfectly well what he was doing. He was… he listened to music, and he created music that he liked, and it sold millions to thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds." TG: "I’m getting the feeling that you were in a kind of awkward position of kind of understanding what kind of manipulation was happening and at the same time being willing to go along with it because it was good for your performing career." PT: "Well, I don’t know whether it was good for my performing career. The reason I went along with it is because I never took any initiative of anything on my own account. Really basically, I just did wherever I was pointed. You know, Stephen said, ‘Go try out,’ I tried out. They said, ‘Come here, do this.’ I did that. ‘Sign here.’ I signed there. And really, I’m just — I’m only recently now getting to the point in my life where I’m beginning to say, ‘Let me figure this out. What is it that I really want? What steps do I have to take, and what…’ And even then, you know, I have to recognize that I have no control over events. All I can do is say, ‘This is the kind of thing that I’d like, and this is the kind of thing that I have to do to make my chances better.’ And then I do that, and then I have to just let the results be whatever they are, to get into trying to make results happen, you know. As a matter of fact, in some ways that was one of the problems that… when I broke up with The Monkees, I left because I couldn’t get those guys back into the studio to do the same kind of thing that we’d done on our third album, which was Micky on drums, Michael on guitar, me on piano, our producer on bass, Davy Jones playing rhythm sections, and then hiring the occasional string player or something like that. Micky said, 'You can’t go back.' He thought he was Thomas Wolfe. And Davy said, 'I don’t wanna be banging a tambourine day in, day out. You guys, it takes you 54 takes to get your parts down, I’ve got my part down first take. Just bang a tambourine. I’m sick of banging a tambourine, Peter, I hope you don’t mind.’ 'Okay, Davy.’ And so we went into this mixed mode. But I wanted the guys to be a real, live group. I had this Pinocchio/Geppetto complex, you know. And when they wouldn’t go for it, I really — it burned me out. And there I was being burnt out because things wouldn’t happen my way, and it was a case of His Majesty The Baby, trying to, you know, have his own way. If I had had the good sense God gave me, I might have noticed that I was having my own personal way, that is, in the sense that I wanted for myself was happening. I could be in the studio playing bass or guitar or piano on every single cut The Monkees did from then on if I wanted to, but that wasn’t enough for me, I wanted things for other people to do, otherwise I wanted to produce and direct and write the script for the whole shebang." TG: "Why did you want everyone to be playing? Because you thought it was more honest? Or was there another reason?" PT: "I thought it was more honest, I thought it was a bigger deal, I wanted a real live group, I thought that this was the way things were done; I was a victim of the same illusions that other people were criticizing us for shattering in their lives. In other words, you’re not a — you don’t just do this all by yourselves, you’re not an organic group, you don’t this, you don’t that, and how could you, you’ve broken my heart.’ As if, you know, as if we’ve broken their heart, as if it wasn’t the shattering of false illusions. If you hang on to false illusions, of course your heart’s gonna get broken." TG: "Did you try to organize the band to maybe rebel against —" PT: "Mh-hm." TG "— the producer." PT: "Well, we did organize the band, and we did get — rebel against Don Kirshner, but it was Mike and me wanting to — each for reasons of our own — and Micky and Davy went along. And then we did the thing, and then everybody said, 'Well, that’s enough of that, thanks very much.’ And I went, 'No, no, no, you’ve got to do it the way we planned, the way I had in mind for us to do,' you know. The fact that everybody went along with what looked like my plan obscured my vision of the fact that everybody was doing what it was they thought they had to do for reasons of their own. And when their reasons changed, and their behavior changed, and my plan didn’t change, I went after them screaming to try to mend my shattered illusions. What a jerk." TG: "(laughs) How did being a television star and a recording star affect your schooling and your ability to have friendships and things like that?" PT: “I don’t know that it affected my ability to have friendships. Basically I don’t think I knew how to be or have a friend beforehand, and I don’t think I learned while I was in that operation. I mean, I had some good buddies, you know, but that wasn’t the same thing, I didn’t really understand. There was only one person in my life that I could turn to when I was hurting who happened somehow to know what it was, what it took to stop me hurting, and that was a woman named Karen Harvey, who later joined me on the West Coast. And I thought, well, here’s a friend come to join me and this will be a real friend. And we were pretty good friends, I guess, but there wasn’t any that, you know, that — I didn’t know what a friend did in a sense of how, on a day-to-day basis, do you maintain your friendships, do you go out of your way to make sure that things are nice and right and, you know, the kind of work that a friendship takes. You don’t just have a friendship without work. And I didn’t know that. And I’m not so sure I know it now. I can say it, but I don’t know if I have, I have the real gut understanding it takes. But in any case, so that… And my schooling, the reason that I was in entertainment was because I’d flunked out of college for the second time, and I never did finish and get a graduate — I mean, I never did get a bachelor’s degree. And to this day, I haven’t got one and I don’t know whether I ever will." TG: "Well, you don’t exactly send resumes around when you’re playing concerts. (laughs)" PT: "No, they didn’t ask me for my degree when they asked me to play Bethlehem. At the Godfrey Daniel tonight in Bethlehem, PA. Those of you who are within driving distance of there, who are within the sound of my taped voice now should hustle out there and take your money so that you can get in." TG: "Speaking of money — how much profits did people in the band, of The Monkees, have, from the millions of records that were sold, and the TV profits and syndication?" PT: "We got the usual — we got standard minimum shares of the TV show and the records. We got a raise, a modest substantial raise, some, you know, medium kind of a raise, after about six months they gave us a raise. We always got the standard record deal, which was: the group gets five points, which was five percent of ninety percent, and so we split one and a quarter points, which is, what, one and three tenths percent each person of whatever the going price was. And we get that today. If they sell a record, The Monkees Greatest Hits album is still on the Billboard middle-of-the-road or some — there’s some special chart that Billboard has that we’ve been on for weeks and weeks and weeks and weeks." TG: "How do you feel about that?" PT: "Well, it’s money, I don’t care." TG: "Did you retire as a wealthy young man from the —" PT: "No. No, I didn’t. I retired as a man with some indeterminate amount of money which somehow indeterminately ran out." TG: "So, when you left, did you want to be known as the former Monkee or did you want to erase that part of your past —" PT: "I tried to erase it." TG: "— and start anew?" PT: "I tried to erase it completely." TG: "How do you do that?" PT: "Well, you just don’t do anything connected with it, just absolutely refuse to have anything to do with it, and… basically what I did was I retreated into — I wound up retreating into Marin County, California, which is just north of San Francisco. And there I worked, I belonged to a worker-owned restaurant, waited tables and was part of the cooperative that owned and operated the restaurant. Nominally owned the restaurant; it was actually owned by this guy whose parents had left him some GM stock, and he bought this thing and the co-op was supposed to pay him to buy him out over the long haul. I think they have done finally, I think it’s now a real workers’ co-op. And I worked there, and I retreated, and nobody said anything to me about my Monkees past except one or two guys said, You know, I’m glad to see you just on the street schlepping around, that kind of thing, which made me feel good. I belonged to a few groups; I belonged to a thing called the Fairfax Street Choir, which had 35 voices in the rock section and was very hard to stage. (laughs) Those little coffee house stages, 35 guys and women. And I also belonged to a kind of second on the bill act in San Francisco called Osceola for a year or so. And that kind of thing. And nobody said anything about The Monkees to me." TG: "Are you in touch with the former members now?" PT: "Occasionally." TG: "I would imagine that some people would be happy to see, like, a reunion. Would you ever imagine that happening? PT: Yeah. The only problem with that is mounting it and making it acceptable to everybody. The problem is, the real problem is that I can’t much see myself going onstage and doing an hour of Monkees greatest hits playing bass and getting offstage. I don’t think that any amount of money would particularly… I don’t suppose that no amount of money, but I don’t think that any amount of money that anybody would be interested in paying me would make me want to do that. I… And I don’t see what conceivable creative project could interest the four of us that would be backed with enough money to make it worth our while to develop any good germ of an idea into something full-blown. I just, I don’t see it happening, I just think that the chances are astronomical against it. It’s possible. We’re all alive. The Beatle reunion is not possible. I’m just reading Lennon’s interview, and he says that thoughts of a Beatle reunion are like going back to high school. Why don’t you go back to high school? When are The Beatles getting back together? When are you going back to high school?" TG: "Is that how you feel?" PT: "I — like I said, I would think that any just simple remounting of The Monkees greatest hits songs on a stage would be that, yes." TG: "Oh, but if you were able to do other material." PT: "That’s what I’m saying. If I thought that it could be creative and useful and engage everybody to the fullest of their capacities, I would, I would consider it. But who’s gonna, you know, pay for us to have hotels, to keep us supported in the styles to which we are accustomed for the two months or three months that it would take to create, carve, mount, produce and rehearse a show that would involve all of us to the maximum of our new capacities. I don’t think it can be done." TG: "How do you feel about audiences?" PT: "What do you mean, (laughs) how do I feel about audiences? What kind of a question is that?" TG: "Okay, because fans have kind of played it both ways with the members of The Monkees, you know, I think when the TV series was on and when millions were being sold, there were millions of fans who were really adoring. And then when you leave a group like that and everybody wants to hear from you only in that context, it’s probably —" PT: "How long have we been on that topic, on this? We’ve been a half an hour, we’ve been almost the entire show on that topic." TG: "What topic?" PT: "The Monkees." TG: "Right. So…" PT: "(gently) So what’s your question?" TG: "So do you have a mixed feeling about fans and audiences?" PT: "Well, fans and audiences are different. Audiences come and they catch the show and they like what I do or they don’t, and that’s up to them, and that’s just the way it’s supposed to be, no matter whether I ever was a Monkee or not. And fans… if a fan, if somebody really needs to remember The Monkees and identify with that, I have nothing to say about that because I don’t know what’s going on with them or what chord I may have touched at some point way back when that they still need to strum on themselves. And it’s none of my business." TG: "So where are you living now?" PT: "I live in Venice, California, legally and technically. As a business matter, I spend most of my time in New York. I still am a registered voter in southern California, my driver’s license is southern California, I’m married, I have children in southern California, I go back there as often as I can and be part of the family, I just don’t get out there very often, and as a business matter, I spend most of my time in New York. Eighty percent." TG: "Where have you been doing most of your performing?" PT: "The New York area these days, mostly. I went to southern Canada, southern Ontario to do a few shows, I’ve been to Boston, I’ve been upstate New York, and I did Pittsburgh a couple, about a year ago, I guess. You know, I operate out of New York basically because you can’t operate out of L.A. You cannot make a living as an entertainer operating out of L.A. Not that I make such a great living operating as an entertainer out of New York, but at least there’s a sense of whatever level I’m on, I can go to the next level and operate on that level for a while. In L.A., you either have to make it or you die. That’s it: you’re either making it or you’re dead. And once somebody has been to the top and come away, you don’t, as far as I see, get much of a second chance in L.A. I tried to knock around as a character, comic character actor for a while, and I got people to: 'Hi, you know, it’s good to see ya,' and they laughed at my jokes, and then they never invited me back." TG: "Um, I forgot what I was gonna ask you." PT: "(laughs) A hell of a note for a professional interviewer." TG: "(laughs) Oh! Do you watch TV much now?" PT: "A fair amount." TG: "Do you watch it very critically, having been — and also seeing what kind of roles are available, I imagine…" PT: "No, no, I don’t watch mass media pop TV much. Hillstreet Blues, that’s about it. The rest of what I watch is CNN, cable news, I don’t know if you get it here." TG: "We don’t get cable here yet." PT: "You don’t have cable in Philly? (jokingly) Oh, you poor people! MTV, also on cable, and, um, the odd cosmos show. I, I saw Carl Sagan say astrology had been completely debunked on a scientific basis. And I go, wait a minute. Not that I’m such a fan of astrology, but there’s no scientific proof that — it’s like, anything you don’t like, if you define it the way you don’t like it, you can prove it doesn’t exist. Like, he said, 'The premise is that the stars have a profound influence on life.’ No, that’s not it." TG: "Do you watch a lot of rock video?" PT: "I watch a fair amount of rock video, and a few pop, the news, you know. Then I listen to music and I read, and I perform and I rehearse, and I run around and take care of business, and that keeps my days filled." TG: "Will you be performing tonight at Godfrey Daniels?" PT: "I’ll be performing at Godfrey Daniels in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania." TG: "And which instruments will you be playing?" PT: "I’ll be playing the guitar, the banjo, and the piano. All at once. (laughter) No, no, seriously, folks, all kidding towards one side, I’ll be playing those three instruments, if they have a decent piano in Bethlehem; I didn’t bring my piano with me." TG: "I want to thank you a lot for talking with us. Thanks very much for being here." PT: "Well, I’m — it was all right, thank you, and I, I just, I just hope it turns out an audience in Bethlehem, that’s all." TG: "Thanks for coming." PT: "Okay." [audio cuts off]

I uploaded the full audio to Google Drive, here.

N, E, Y, and A for the ask meme! :-)

@uneorange OMG!  You picked the letters of my username!  That’s so clever.  It really made me smile :-) 

If any one else wants to ask (please!) the list is here!

N: Any fic ideas brewing that you’d care to share?

In addition to my ongoing WIP, “Life After Life,” I have two really vague fic ideas I’m mulling over. And believe me, when I say really vague, I mean really vague.

In no particular order:

VAGUE IDEA #1: Atem returns with Kaiba.  A bunch of unspoken assumptions are crammed in the Dimensional Cannon with them.  Atem’s first actions throw everything up in the air. Kaiba, still on a honeymoon high, brings Atem and Yugi together, with the flourish of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. Yugi falls apart.  He’s been the brave warrior for so long, and when he sees Atem, standing in front of him, real and alive, he dissolves into tears and thanks Kaiba for bringing Atem back.  Atem, shaken and guilty at the effect his leaving has had on his partner, focuses on comforting Yugi.  Kaiba (of course) assumes the idyll is over, as Mokuba wonders why he’s always the one left picking up the pieces.  I really want the story to be an exploration of the importance of romantic (Kaiba/Atem), platonic/friendship (Atem and Yugi) and familial bonds (Kaiba and Mokuba) as the characters negotiate their way through them.

VAGUE IDEA #2:  Every time Kaiba tries to reach Atem in the after-life, he winds up back in his past.  Meanwhile, every day Atem is spending in the after-life feels more hollow, as if he’s a vessel that’s emptying itself out.  As everything starts to feel less real, the one thought that becomes more solid is that Kaiba is involved.  They feel like they’re caught in a game and the only way out is to figure out what the game is and how to win.

E: What character do you identify with most?  Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well?

Both Kaiba brothers.  My older brother was incredibly important to me growing up, and to this day, if he told me black was white, I’d be out there swearing he was right, so I really get that bone-in loyalty to an older sibling.  As much as I love Yugi’s values, in temperament, I really get Kaiba, and in a much milder form, a lot of his struggles have been mine.  

Capturing the Kaiba brothers has been an ongoing fixation of mine, so I’d like to think I’ve done them justice in all my stories.  I think the one that looked at Kaiba’s inner workings in the most literal way was probably “Giving Up the Ghosts,” where Kaiba created an immersive virtual world that reflects all of his inner conflicts, strengths and damage and then has to figure out how to win to escape.

Y: What are your thoughts on your personal satisfaction with something you’ve written vs. the popularity of your stories?  Do you tend to be most satisfied with your most popular stories?  

I tend to avoid thinking of my stories in terms of popularity because that’s a particularly self-destructive rabbit hole for me, and no matter where I start, I always end up feeling bad about my writing.  I came up with a very simple metric that ended up working:  Did I tell the story in my head to the best of my ability at the time I wrote it?  So far the answer has been yes, and that has remained an enormous source of satisfaction.

A: Of the fanfic you’ve written, which is your favorite and why?

OMG!!! That’s like asking a parent who their favorite child is!  TBH, I don’t really have an answer because I spend so much time nurturing each story.  Also, in addition to being stories in and of themselves, they’re also my experience of writing them, and for me, those two things are inextricably intertwined.  Writing my first story was an amazing experience because I’d never thought of myself as a creative person, and writing a whole story was something I would have said was beyond my ability.  Having people connect with it and to meeting so many people through it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life.  I had several (mostly successfully resolved) health issues while writing my current WIP and there were months where each successful update felt like a victory in and of itself, and the story has occasionally became a stand-in, and at times a target, for my fluctuating moods.  TBH, I’m not sure if I’m avoiding the question or if I simply can’t answer it.

Happy Tuesday!

Seeking knowledge - This is a dream of mine, I feel it symbolizes my thirst for knowledge. As in Odin sending out Huginn to look over the worlds. It’s an older piece but with new followers I thought I’d share it again. Have a great day ✨🖤

✨ End of Year Questions ✨

tagged by @genyathefirebird thank you 💜 i was apprehensive to answer these because i thought i hadn’t written that much but uh. Turns out i wrote a lot it’s just that nobody’s seen any of it.

What is your favorite thing you created?

i think my favorite is zombie movies, because that felt like closing a chapter that i didn’t even know i’d left open. runner up is something slightly cursed encouraged by @xar626 whether she knew it or not where i returned to something I wrote this summer and it turned out it was 2k about a very pivotal blowjob. which i consequently wrote in comic sans. it needs at least another 2k before it’ll be ready for polite society

Which work are you proudest of?

AMARYLLIS i forgot i posted Amaryllis this year. i am so proud of it

Is there anything you are proud of that you achieved this year?

i’ve had brief shining moments where i’ve been writing every day and i’m proud of that. i absolutely believe that it was what allowed me to pass the big test i took this year because i had practice quickly organizing my thoughts and putting them to page

Did you explore anything new this year?

i learned to crochet! i took a class and then i was like yeah this is the life so i’ve crocheted a hat a lot of granny squares with my scrap yarn and am working on a strawberry bag

Which work gave you the most difficulty?

shout out to that time i got caught writing porn on a plane this year and i was like i have to post this or it’ll mean NOTHING and it still isn’t posted because i’m only halfway through revising and i have negative sixteen ideas for a title

What was your biggest creative challenge this year?

i found myself in multiple situations this year where i was confronted with something genuinely close to my worst fears in term of my PTSD, and in both situations i was required to do my absolute best on creative work, once taking a test (lots of writing!) and once playing in the pit in a very long and difficult production. being able to tap into my skills and perform to my best ability was one of the hardest things i’ve ever done and THEN i cut my finger and had to do 3 shows without use of a finger. so that was exceptionally challenging but i succeeded and overcame!

Which work brought you the most joy?

be on your way for sure, first serious smut i’ve ever published and a rarepair passion project. loved writing it and loved posting it

Which of your works do you think people should check out?

i would say i write pretty varied stuff, a lot of it is about grief and a lot of it is angst, so it’s hard to say but i think the series love, persevering is some of my best writing. prompt fills are all under #prompts and my ao3 is here

Do you have creative plans for next year? Is there anything exciting you’re currently working on?

i do want to set myself the goal of posting a lot of the fic on my phone if i can get it up to my personal standard. i’m really nervous about posting it because it’s a big departure from the type of thing i normally write and it’s also for a pairing that is very personal for me, i also know that it’s for something that’s older so i know it won’t be that popular which is always something that makes posting less fun

in terms of music, this is the year i fully learn the prelude to Bach’s 6th cello suite, it’s one of the most beautiful pieces of all time imo. i am also very fortunate in that i’ll get to play Largo from Dvorak’s New World which has been a dream of mine for a long time, plus i get the beautiful little solo 💖 and in terms of fiber arts, it’s the year i finally knit a sweater (or three) and crochet a couple blankets

Lastly, any words of wisdom or advice you’d like to share?

i think writing a lot and posting almost nothing has reminded me why i write, and that’s just because i love it. the external validation is nice and important but if you’re writing just for that, you will inevitably lose your joy for it, which is what happened to me in 2022. set goals for yourself, write what comes naturally, and you can keep it forever or post it, whatever serves you.

tagging @goldheartedsky @sigurism @godihatethisfreakingcat @scorchedhearth @shatterthefragments @bakingmoomins and anyone else who would like to 🌸 important note this doesn’t have to just be about writing!! Anything creative goes

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4, Part 1

The Sparrow: Chapter 3: Show Pony

Synopsis: The tribute parade challenges Haymitch and Marian’s promise.

Warnings: Some swearing and objectification of the narrator.

Author’s Note: Hope you have been enjoying so far!! The pace will pick up soon so thanks for bearing with the longer and slower chapters so far. - Lu 🪶

Word count: 1369

“Holy sh-” I grunted as the last of the wax was ripped from my leg.

I lay on a cushioned bed as six or seven people plucked, buffed, waxed, and oiled every part of my body.

I barely had a chance to settle when we arrived at the Capitol because I was soon whisked away to a white room with light green trimming along the ceiling and sat down on the brown cushioned chair in its centre.

A crowd of people came in and started touching and prodding my body as if I were an inanimate object, which I’m sure wasn’t too far from how they viewed me. Nothing more than an ornament they had to make shiny.

The wax stung as I’d never felt before, the heat made it feel as though the gooey substance was ripping my entire skin off. The oil they applied afterwards was soothing though and it smelled fresh, like peppermint and a flower I couldn’t place… maybe chamomille. As much as I hate to admit it, despite the pain I felt really clean afterwards, as if 18 years of gunk had finally been scrubbed away.

The stylists too feigned inanimity when they came in afterwards, tugging my hair and applying all sorts of creams and powders onto my face, never once acknowledging me.

The pale, black-haired woman who was applying red paint onto my lips complained to the stylishly dressed white-haired man working on my hair that they were short on time and only had a few minutes before the parade.

“Don’t worry, no one will be looking at the District 12 girl anyway,” the man replied.

I thought I should defend myself but the woman shut me up as she held my bottom lip and continued painting it. He wasn’t wrong, though. No one cared about District 12 and that didn’t really bother me. It’s better to go unnoticed sometimes, I’ve learned that from having to scrape by my whole life.

Safety lies in anonymity a lot of the time.

Huh, that thought surprised me. Maybe I did know more about survival than I gave myself credit for. Maybe I could even devise a strategy… maybe.

My stream of consciousness was soon interrupted by three more people entering the now quite cramped room, carrying what looked like a body bag. It sent shivers down my spine. I had overheard my fair share of sinister stories from the Capitol.

As I was so intent on figuring out what was in the black bag they had just hung up, I barely realized when someone pulled me up to stand on a small pedestal next to the chair and undid my robe, leaving me completely naked in front of over 10 strangers.

Before I could process, a glittery black band was zipped (quite literally only) around my breasts and a matching black skirt with an uncomfortably wide slit, exposing my legs up to the top of my thighs. The stylists began dabbing sheer and glittery black powder all over my body, lightly covering my exposed legs, torso, arms and chest. If only working the mines was this glamorous.

Someone finished knotting my hair in a voluptuous ponytail, my brown curls cascaded down my left shoulder when they all suddenly stepped away and made a path for a tall older woman, her white hair in a structured updo, contrasting her dark skin, wearing an obnoxiously purple blazer and a matching pencil skirt, with purple flowers attached all around the hem. It would have been a nice set without the red patterned tights, obnoxiously high white heels and matching white choker.

“Oh my! You look stunning!” She beamed and she took my hand and spun me around, her purple eyes inspecting her creation. She soon introduced herself to me as Vanilla Ogden, my stylist. So she was the person responsible for the two scrap pieces of fabric on my body which she called her “sexy masterpiece.”

I didn’t get the chance to say a single word as Vanilla led the pack of stylists, artists, and waxers outside with me, their creation, right at the group's center. I walked slowly and hesitantly, careful not to flash anyone as I caught glimpses of the other tributes getting ready for the parade. The girls were all equally scantily dressed, I remember the District 4 girl was only given a fishnet.

We shared a sympathetic glance.

Vanilla and her horde dropped me off on the last carriage and Alder soon joined next to me. I didn’t dare move, lest something slip.

I don’t like thinking about the parade. The lights gave me a terrible headache and there were too many people cheering and gawking at us. I felt like a show pony, paraded around. I just held onto the chariot with one hand and my skirt with the other, trying to avoid the cameras and mostly just looking down. My head was pounding and I was so cold.

It wasn’t until the whole ordeal was over and Haymitch met Alder and me that I realized how embarrassed I was and how vulnerable I felt with two scrap pieces of fabric barely covering my body. It was good to see him.

Haymitch smiled and clapped sarcastically as he approached us, not once looking below my collarbone.

“Al! Good job. See, M? That smile’s gonna get him all the sponsors while you starve out in the arena!” He slapped Alder’s back and the boy’s now pearly-white smile beamed.

God, seriously? I spent the day being plucked and pulled and then had to endure an hour of standing with an unbearable headache in less than a bra and a sorry excuse for a skirt. I fought back the tears pooling in my eyes and put on the fake smile he wanted to see so badly.

“Thanks! I’ll definitely keep that in mind next time a stadium full of people is looking at my breasts!” I stormed off towards the elevator, avoiding the ogling eyes of the pre-pubescent boys all around me.

I stepped into the glass-encased elevator with the District 10 mentors and tributes and tried to cover myself as best I could with my arms. Haymitch and Alder walked in right as the doors were about to close.

Like the many boys outside, the District 10 tribute stared at my body, his eyes tracing a line from my chest down to my polished legs, following the line of the provocative slit on my skirt.

Noticing my discomfort, Haymitch stepped towards me and nudged me by the shoulder, standing between me and the boy, keeping his eyes on the glass of the walls of the elevator behind me.

I looked up at him, trying to show my appreciation but he didn’t look towards me, not even after District 10 left, which made me even more grateful for the gesture.

The elevator dinged as it reached the spacious penthouse assigned to us. Alder dashed straight down the hallway and into his assigned room. I was about to follow him down but I turned around towards the sparsely furnished living room, where Haymitch poured himself a drink by the well-stocked bar.

“Thank you,” I told him, looking down at his creased black leather dress shoes, “For, um-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves it off dismissively, swishing the golden liquid around the crystal cup, “I didn’t like the way they looked at you,” he muttered under his breath, mostly to himself.

“Sorry? What?” I stepped forward, having genuinely not heard.

“Nothing, nothing.” he brushed it off again, staring down at his full glass, shining caramel in the artificial light, “get some sleep. You’ll need it. You start training tomorrow.”

“Thanks, I will,” I replied with a small smile on my face, knowing full well my nerves and headache wouldn’t allow that to happen. I turned around and headed out into the hallway, but right before I crossed the doorway, I looked back at Haymitch and said “Good night.”

A minuscule pleasantry, but one I hoped would serve as an olive branch, a nod towards the kindness he showed me that day and an acknowledgement that I hadn’t forgotten my promise.

He nodded, mid-sip.

I hope it meant something to him too.

—

Next Chapter

Masterlist

Just Ben, Chapter 2

Word Count:  1k

“You know, we are related to one of the members of the original three,” mother teased, “Justice is your great grandmother.  She fought side by side with Soldier Boy and Liberty in the First World War.  She had my mother in 1901.  Then she lost her powers when she had me…they wanted to retire her, but she went on a final mission and died in Europe at the beginning of World War two.  She tried to be a spy, but without her powers, she wasn’t quick enough.  She had lost her edge, and the Germans executed her.”

“And You were born in 1939,” I reminded her, trying to think of happier times “the end of the great depression.  Grandma left you with grandpa to be a spy, but she was doing her civil duty in helping protect us, right?”

“That’s right, sweetheart.” She smiled, gently patting my head, “and you were born in 1959, and your little sister was born just last year in 1968.”

“The commies crashed into the moon when I was born!” I giggled, thinking of the Russians.  But then I frowned at my next piece of news that I’d associated with my little sister’s birth, “and Reverend King was shot when sissy was born.”

“That’s right, Adelaide,” she said solemnly, pulling me to her chest, “And this last year was the year that your daddy and brother were hurt in that coal mine collapse.”

“Momma, the coal mine crushed em,” I reminded her.  But she only shushed me, not wanting to relive the tragedies we’d already face, “momma…can I have some dinner tonight?  I’m hungry…we didn’t have anything yesterday and my tummy hurts again.”

“Go to bed, baby…momma will try to get us something in the morning, okay?”

“But momma-“

“Go to bed, Adelaide!”  

“What are you doing up, sweetheart?” I opened my eyes, not daring to move from Soldier Boy’s chest, “I can feel the change in your heart rate since you’re lying on me…now, I don’t want you to go lying to me, sweetheart.  Are you okay, Adelaide?”

“I-I’m sorry, Soldier Boy.”

I looked up at him, and his gaze softened, “I’m not going to hurt you…you’re my dame.  My gal.  You’re my one and only.  I’m not going to do anything to you, Adelaide.  And I’ve told you, sweetheart, call me Ben.  That’s my name.”

“I was just thinking…”

“About what?”

When I was younger…” I told him gently, my fingers making small little shapes on his bare chest as I looked up into his forest green eyes, “just stories my mom told me…things I had to recite so that I wasn’t thinking about the struggles I went through when I had them.”

“You struggled?” he asked.  His eyes seemed to hold a sadness as I nodded, and his hand moved low on my back, “You won’t have to struggle anymore, Adelaide.  I promise.”

“I-it was my childhood,” I shrugged, not giving it much more thought than that, “it was how I was brought up…my mom tried the best she could.”

“I want to meet your family, sweetheart,” he said firmly, “I want them to know that you’re on the straight and narrow moving forward…that you’re my girl.”

I felt tears coming to my eyes, and I sniffled. 

“Hey-hey…why the tears, sweetheart?”

“The only one left is my younger sister,” I admitted tearfully, “My father and older brother died in the coal mines when I was younger…left my momma destitute.  She whored herself out til she caught Syphilis…she wanted me and my little sister Annie to start up since she couldn’t no more…but I took Annie, and I ran.  Turns out I’m no better than her.  Only difference is I make sure that Annie’s on the straight and narrow…she isn’t ever gonna do what I do.  Especially not now…I-Tommy promised me the other girl’s share if I stayed…you know…since she was supposed to service you exclusively…and she was getting a lot more than I was gonna get.  It’ll be enough to buy our apartment so we don’t have to worry about rent…and then I can get a real job…maybe being a secretary or something…an-and hopefully…I could see you again?  I-I mean, if you want.  I-”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore, Adelaide,” he promised, cutting me off, “I’m going to take care of you and your sister.  From now on, neither of you will ever have to worry about anything again.”

“Wh-what?”

“I’m going to take care of you, sweetheart.  You and your sister.”

“B-Ben…that-that’s too much.  You don’t hav-“

“I want to,” he said quickly, taking my hands in his own, “you’re my dame, and I’m going to take care of you and your little sister…it’s what a good man does.  He takes care of his gal.  And I’m making an honest one out of you, Adelaide.”

“Oh Ben…”

“Now come on,” he said sweetly, gently helping me up out of the bed, “let’s find you some clothes…and let’s get back to the tower.  I’ve got to have them make your sister a room inside of my suite…and set up movers so that we can get all of your clothes and such into there…how old is she?  We have decorators that can set everything up.”

“Sh-she’s eleven.”

“Eleven,” he smiled, “so it’s like practicing before the real thing?”

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t joking when I said I’m not letting you go and we’re going to have a baby,” he chuckled, gently placing a hand on my stomach, “doll, we’ll be a real all-American family in no time…just you wait.  I’ll talk to the higher ups…we’ll get us a nice little house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and a dog.  We’ll raise a house full of little Bens and Adelaides.  It’ll be grand, sweetheart.  We’ll make sure little Annie has a good life; really take care of her.  You don’t have to worry about a thing anymore…no ma’am.  You won’t have to worry ever again.”

Chapter 3

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @vmenfangirl

WIP asks (if you're still taking them--sorry I'm a bit late to this): rook and thrush and/or stolen lives?

"Rook and Thrush" is my "King Thrushbeard" retelling. It's meant to fit in with the other short fairy tales I'm writing--first person, sticking as close to the original as possible. I've only written the first scene of it, but it's a good one to go back to when I'm feeling cranky, because that is very much the narrator's vibe. (Also, it's fun because Thrushbeard is having the time of his life indulging his trickster side--or at least he will be until this comes back to bite him.)

“By the king’s left eye!” he crows, in that high-pitched accent that makes it sound like he’s trying to swallow his own tongue. “Never thought I’d end the day with a wife. This morning I thought, ‘Maybe I’ll play a tune for that king up the hill. Get a coin or two from him.’ And the moment I step in the door, he shoves his own daughter on me as lawful bride. Now, I ask you, dear heart, is that a thing that any right-minded man could have been asked to predict?”

I am too angry to answer. If I speak, I will explode, and we are too close to my father’s house. I refuse to let Father see how thoroughly he has won.

My husband doesn’t mind my lack of answer. He chatters on gaily, “I comes before him, plays my song, and instead of offering me a bit of gold or a bite or supper, he says, ‘You’ll marry my daughter.’ Just like that. ‘She’s refused all other husbands,’ he says. Now, knowing what sorts o’ kings and dukes and things has been asking for your hand, I says, ‘Then I doubt she’ll take me, sir.’ But he didn’t care a jot about that. That’s downright fair-minded of him. Most folks’d look at my clothes and my eyepatch and think me a first-rate scoundrel, but I suppose kings is better’n us common folk at reading the hearts o’ men , so I reckon he could see the bit of gold I keep tucked under the muck o’ mine. ‘She’ll have no other for her husband,’ he says, and who am I to gainsay the king? They march me into that little chapel--in front of the bishop himself, and me in nought but my common traveling clothes!--and barely give me the chance to look at you afore they calls us man and wife. But here we are! The minstrel and his bride! Rightful wed before God and man, and I daresay you’re a prettier piece of womanflesh than I expected. Downright picture-like now that I can see you proper in the sunlight.”

Stolen Lives is the draft of the Shapeshifter Goose Girl story I talked about the other day. I don’t have anything I want to share from that draft, but I will mention that since I made that post, a Prince of Egypt post sparked some thoughts that led to a lot of worldbuilding and a new take on the story. I’ve written a short prologue that outlines some worldbuilding and the moment where the main character is captured and enslaved. It’s still very, very rough, but I suppose I can share a snippet of it, since I’m at the point where I’m excited that it exists at all.

I grab what I can from the table—cutlery, candlesticks, anything that might be useful as a weapon. Mother tears it all from my grasp. “No, Isa!” she says. “We can’t fight.”

She’s right. None of us can. Our gifts are weak after the long night of fasting. Rioma must have known this, and chosen this holiest of nights for their cowardly attack.

Mama places her hands on my shoulders. Her power surges through me, and my own power rises to meet it, following her lead to change my body in the space between breaths, far more than either of us could do alone. In moments, I stand as tall as Mama, with night-black hair that hangs only to my chin. In the glimpse I can see of my face in the darkened window, I can see that I appear much older.

Mama’s eyes are wild as she looks into my new face. “Isa! Run!”

There are still a lot of potential pitfalls with this new angle, but I’m willing to explore and see what comes of it.

The last time we saw the Springs-Eternals, aunt Mercy had moved out of the family home to focus on work and be with her lady love, Cheyenne. Faith and her brother Temperance were typical teens (bratty and beleaguered, respectively), who were also about to start college.

Well, college has arrived! What’s in store for our heir and spare as they move out and become the first Springs-Eternals to attend Brainia U, post-apocalypse?

Brainia U looks a lot different than when founder Hope attended.

Some things have stayed the same, however.

“Aw, man!”

“Temps, come on dude – it’s the college experience. What did you expect?”

“Ugh.”

“I don’t even get my own room?!”

“Sorry! It’s standard for most freshmen. But you’re used to sharing a room, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah! But I thought that at college, I’d finally get my own space!”

…

“It’s fine. Just got my hopes up I guess.”

…

“Uh, you wanna go see if my dad is done with the kitchen sink? Remy and Seb are supposed to be here at noon after class. They might get freaked out if they see my dad poking around in the kitchen before like, being introduced.”

…

“Hey, uh, Mr. Waters –“

“Man! I wonder if all of the student housing has pipes like this. You know, if you don’t run them in the winter, well, any time it’s cold, they can freeze up!”    

“All set now though! Help an old man clean up this junk, will ya Temps?”

“Sure. You need a hand?”

“Oof! Yes. But don’t get older - I would not recommend it.”

“You got everything Dad?”

“Uh, hi? Hello?”

“Um, hi! I’m Wade! The door was unlocked, student services said it was okay for us to move in early –“

“That’s my dad, and this is Tempe, who will be sharing my room.”

“Tempe? Like ‘temperature’?”

“Oh, uh no…my name is Temperance…people call me Tempe, um…”

“He’s got a sister named Faith! Temperance and Faith! It’s a family name thing.”

“Cool! Nice to meet you.”

“A sister?...Is she hot?”

“Remy! Hey!”

“Sorry, I am Sebastian, and you are welcome to call me ‘Seb’ for short. This jerk is my twin brother, Remington.”

*yawn* “Remy is fine.”

“Oh! Wade is also a twin! No more sharing a room with Bettina though!”

“Dad!”

“Well! I’ll let you boys settle in! I’m going to go check on your ma and the girls! Be back soon!”

“So…where are you guys from?”

“Pleasantview.”

…

“Cool.”

“So. This has been thrilling. Um…I gotta pee.”

“Ignore him.”

“You guys wanna get some food?”

“Sure!”

“Okay!”

~~~

         “This is bullshit.”

“Faith…”

“I don’t wanna talk to her! She pissed me off!”

“Faith…she’s well past 40…I am surprised she didn’t move out sooner. If you would -“

“She didn’t even say goodbye! And she took the car. I was going to learn how to drive in that car!”

…

“Then you are welcome to tell her off if you feel like that will make you feel better. But, giving people a piece of your mind doesn’t work out every single -“

“Oh, she’s gonna hear what I have to say!”

     “FAITH! Isn’t this cool!? I’ve never flown before!”

“You know I can’t hear a damn word you are saying!!!”

“Hey Genesis! Looks like you got here in one piece! Proud day for us, eh?”

“Very proud. Thank you.”

….

“Where is Wade? Is Tristan with him? I want to make sure that Temperance -”       

“Oh yes! He’s helping Wade and Temperance get settled in.”

“I’ll bet you Wade’s already got a poster of a car tacked up, ha!”

…

“Hello Faith! How are you?”

“Hey Mrs. Waters….”

“Hey Faith –“

“- dibs on the bigger bedroom!”

“WHAT! Yeah fuckin’ right! That bigger bedroom is mine!”

...

“Hey, I’m going to go make sure they’re okay, see that the water is running.”

“Oh! The water system was of utmost importance for student housing. We were not able to have electricity working for anything more than the provided personal computer for each house, but the water should be potable and running.

The furnishings were another matter, really outside the realm of what us educators could expend funds on, but considering what was available, but I am sure that Bettina would appreciate -“

“Oh goodness, I’m teasing! As long as they have running water and a place to sleep I’m sure the kids will be fine. It’s…scrappy, you know? Shabby chic?”

...

“I’m sorry that I-“

“I really need to ask-“

…    

...

“You can go first.”

…

“I am sorry I left without saying anything. I just…really needed to go, and I was feeling guilty…I felt like I couldn’t face everyone to stay goodbye. Work has been…well, it’s been a lot!”

“It’s pretty amazing living with Cheyenne though. It’s actually quiet! That took me a long time to get used to.”

“I miss you guys of course, I am not saying that, but it’s great to be out on my own. Plus, after that break in at the radio station…I feel much better just being there for Cheyenne, you know?”

“Gen, don’t give me the silent treatment here! There’s –“

…

“Mercy, I think it’s wonderful that you moved out to be with Cheyenne. But I need your help. Please.”

“Okay? You need my help? What’s wrong? Something with Justice?”

“No, not Justice…me. I need your help. But I don’t know if you will agree to it. Just hear me out.”

“Gen, hey, are you in trouble? Something with work? Is everything okay?”

“Mercy, HCU-70 is here. I know it. I have to find him. You have to let me stay here. I am not getting back on that helicopter.”

“…what?!”

“He’s here. You know my helmet, his gift, the Thinking Cap? There are coordinates in it. 37.2431° N, 115.7930° W - that puts him right in Brainia U!

…

He’s here! I can feel it.”

“I have to try, I have to find him!”

…

“Gen….you know how crazy that sounds…right?”

“Please! Leave me here! I know he’s here! I have to try! We had so little time together when we met…”

“Gen! Listen! I hear you…but what you’re saying – just because a gift HCU-70 gave you has coordinates inside of it… I can’t just leave you - “

“But you can!”

“Genesis, if I…if the militia leaves you at Brainia U, no one can come get you, not even an emergency. We don’t have the funds to fuel the chopper for just one person.”

“We are the only way out of Brainia U. No one can come for you. Please, think about this. You would be stuck here, no shelter and no food, for at least a year- at least until next year’s freshmen are enrolled.”

…

“Genesis. Please. Do you understand what I am saying? I am the General of the militia. This will fall on me if they know that I let you do this. Do you understand me? I could be in a lot of trouble.”

…

“Mercy, I know. I know it’s a huge risk for you. But I need to do this.”

“I can’t just leave you here because you have a hunch!”

“I have evidence!”

“You have only circumstantial evidence!”

“Mercy…did you ever meet someone, where…you feel like you can finally take a deep breath? Be yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“Please. I have good reason to try and do this. I know the risks. I’m a survivor – I know this campus. Getting around and staying safe won’t be an issue for me.”

…

“What about your job?”

“I’m the Minister of Education! I’ll – I’ll say I am doing on-campus research…”

…

“I have to find him. I have to find out more. I feel like…I need to do this. Communicate with an alien race, at length, and truly understand them? I need to spend time with him and learn all that I can. I felt cheated before -“

“Oh, I am so sorry about that Gen, but look, at the time-“

“No, I understand completely why it had to happen. But things are different now. I know he’s here, and I’m going to find him, and I’m going to make up for lost time.”

“Please.”

 …

“Genesis, you are my friend. I just want what is best for you, and I want you to be safe.”

“We’re friends?”

 “Yeah. I think so? I don’t have a lot of friends. But I think so.”

…

“What do I tell Justice? The kids?”

“The truth?”