#sure its got taxes and worry

[aeoliantectrix]

Currently getting crossfaded in my underwear while boiling some shoelaces in Kool aid to make them purple

Today is a good day :)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Why they're smearing Lina Khan

My god, they sure hate Lina Khan. This once-in-a-generation, groundbreaking, brilliant legal scholar and fighter for the public interest, the slayer of Reaganomics, has attracted more vitriol, mockery, and dismissal than any of her predecessors in living memory.

She sure must be doing something right, huh?

A quick refresher. In 2017, Khan — then a law student — published Amazon’s Antitrust Paradox in the Yale Law Journal. It was a brilliant, blistering analysis showing how the Reagan-era theory of antitrust (which celebrates monopolies as “efficient”) had failed on its own terms, using Amazon as Exhibit A of the ways in which post-Reagan antitrust had left Americans vulnerable to corporate abuse:

https://www.yalelawjournal.org/note/amazons-antitrust-paradox

The paper sent seismic shocks through both legal and economic circles, and goosed the neo-Brandeisian movement (sneeringly dismissed as “hipster antitrust”). This movement is a rebuke to Reaganomics, with its celebration of monopolies, trickle-down, offshoring, corporate dark money, revolving-door regulatory capture, and companies that are simultaneously too big to fail and too big to jail.

This movement has many proponents, of course — not just Khan — but Khan’s careful scholarship, combined with her encyclopedic knowledge of the long-dormant statutory powers that federal agencies had to make change, and a strategy for reviving those powers to protect Americans from corporate predators made her a powerful, inspirational figure.

When Joe Biden won the 2020 presidential election, he surprised everyone by appointing Khan to the FTC. It wasn’t just that she had such a radical vision — it was also that she lacked the usual corporate law experience that such an appointee would normally require (experience that would ensure that the FTC was helmed by people whose default view of the world is that it should be structured and regulated by powerful, wealthy people in corporate boardrooms).

Even more surprising was that Khan was made chair of the FTC, something that was only possible because a few Republican Senators broke with their party to support her candidacy:

https://www.senate.gov/legislative/LIS/roll_call_votes/vote1171/vote_117_1_00233.htm

These Republicans saw in Khan an ally in their fight against “woke” Big Tech. For these senators, the problem wasn’t that tech had got too big and powerful — it was that there were a few limited instances in which tech leaders failed to wield that power in the ways they preferred.

The Republican project is a matter of getting turkeys to vote for Christmas by doing a lot of culture war bullshit, cruelly abusing disfavored sexual and racial minorities. This wins support from low-information voters who’ll vote against their class interests and support more monopolies, more tax cuts for the rich, and more cuts to the services they rely on.

But while tech leaders are 100% committed to the project of permanent oligarchic takeover of every sphere of American life, they are less full-throated in their support for hateful, cruel discrimination against disfavored minorities (in this regard, tech leaders resemble the corporate wing of the Democrats, which is where we get the “Silicon Valley is a Democratic Party stronghold” narrative).

This failure to unquestioningly and unstintingly back culture war bullshit put tech leaders in the GOP’s crosshairs. Some GOP politicians actually believe in the culture war bullshit, and are grossly offended that tech is “woke.” Others are smart enough not to get high on their own supply, but worry that any tech obstruction in the bullshit culture wars will make it harder to get sufficient turkey votes for a big fat Christmas surprise.

Biden’s ceding of antitrust policy to the left wing of the party, combined with disaffected GOP senators viewing Khan as their enemy’s enemy, led to Khan’s historic appointment as FTC Chair. In that position, she was joined by a slate of Biden trustbusters, including Jonathan Kanter at the DoJ Antitrust Division, Tim Wu at the White House, and other important, skilled and principled fighters like Alvaro Bedoya (FTC), Rebecca Slaughter (FTC), Rohit Chopra (CFPB), and many others.

Crucially, these new appointees weren’t just principled, they were good at their jobs. In 2021, Tim Wu wrote an executive order for Biden that laid out 72 concrete ways in which the administration could act — with no further Congressional authorization — to blunt corporate power and insulate the American people from oligarchs’ abusive and extractive practices:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/13/post-bork-era/#manne-down

Since then, the antitrust arm of the Biden administration have been fuckin’ ninjas, Getting Shit Done in ways large and small, working — for the first time since Reagan — to protect Americans from predatory businesses:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

This is in marked contrast to the corporate Dems’ champions in the administration. People like Pete Buttigieg are heralded as competent technocrats, “realists” who are too principled to peddle hopium to the base, writing checks they can’t cash. All this is cover for a King Log performance, in which Buttigieg’s far-reaching regulatory authority sits unused on a shelf while a million Americans are stranded over Christmas and whole towns are endangered by greedy, reckless rail barons straight out of the Gilded Age:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

The contrast between the Biden trustbusters and their counterparts from the corporate wing is stark. While the corporate wing insists that every pitch is outside of the zone, Khan and her allies are swinging for the stands. They’re trying to make life better for you and me, by declaring commercial surveillance to be an unfair business practice and thus illegal:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/12/regulatory-uncapture/#conscious-uncoupling

And by declaring noncompete “agreements” that shackle good workers to shitty jobs to be illegal:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/02/its-the-economy-stupid/#neofeudal

And naturally, this has really pissed off all the right people: America’s billionaires and their cheerleaders in the press, government, and the hive of scum and villainy that is the Big Law/thinktank industrial-complex.

Take the WSJ: since Khan took office, they have published 67 vicious editorials attacking her and her policies. Khan is living rent-free in Rupert Murdoch’s head. Not only that, he’s given her the presidential suite! You love to see it.

These attacks are worth reading, if only to see how flimsy and frivolous they are. One major subgenre is that Khan shouldn’t be bringing any action against Amazon, because her groundbreaking scholarship about the company means she has a conflict of interest. Holy moly is this a stupid thing to say. The idea that the chair of an expert agency should recuse herself because she is an expert is what the physicists call not even wrong.

But these attacks are even more laughable due to who they’re coming from: people who have the most outrageous conflicts of interest imaginable, and who were conspicuously silent for years as the FTC’s revolving door admitted the a bestiary of swamp-creatures so conflicted it’s a wonder they managed to dress themselves in the morning.

Writing in The American Prospect, David Dayen runs the numbers:

Since the late 1990s, 31 out of 41 top FTC officials worked directly for a company that has business before the agency, with 26 of them related to the technology industry.

https://prospect.org/economy/2023-06-23-attacks-lina-khans-ethics-reveal-projection/

Take Christine Wilson, a GOP-appointed FTC Commissioner who quit the agency in a huff because Khan wanted to do things for the American people, and not their self-appointed oligarchic princelings. Wilson wrote an angry break-up letter to Khan that the WSJ published, presaging their concierge service for Samuel Alito:

https://www.wsj.com/articles/why-im-resigning-from-the-ftc-commissioner-ftc-lina-khan-regulation-rule-violation-antitrust-339f115d

For Wilson to question Khan’s ethics took galactic-scale chutzpah. Wilson, after all, is a commissioner who took cash money from Bristol-Myers Squibb, then voted to approve their merger with Celgene:

https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/4365601-Wilson-Christine-Smith-final278.html

Or take Wilson’s GOP FTC predecessor Josh Wright, whose incestuous relationship with the companies he oversaw at the Commission are so intimate he’s practically got a Habsburg jaw. Wright went from Google to the US government and back again four times. He also lobbied the FTC on behalf of Qualcomm (a major donor to Wright’s employer, George Mason’s Antonin Scalia Law School) after working “personally and substantially” while serving at the FTC.

George Mason’s Scalia center practically owns the revolving door, counting fourteen FTC officials among its affliates:

https://campaignforaccountability.org/ttp-investigation-big-techs-backdoor-to-the-ftc/

Since the 1990s, 31 out of 41 top FTC officials — both GOP appointed and appointees backed by corporate Dems — “worked directly for a company that has business before the agency”:

https://www.citizen.org/article/ftc-big-tech-revolving-door-problem-report/

The majority of FTC and DoJ antitrust lawyers who served between 2014–21 left government service and went straight to work for a Big Law firm, serving the companies they’d regulated just a few months before:

https://therevolvingdoorproject.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/06/The-Revolving-Door-In-Federal-Antitrust-Enforcement.pdf

Take Deborah Feinstein, formerly the head of the FTC’s Bureau of Competition, now a partner at Arnold & Porter, where she’s represented General Electric, NBCUniversal, Unilever, and Pepsi and a whole medicine chest’s worth of pharma giants before her former subordinates at the FTC. Michael Moiseyev who was assistant manager of FTC Competition is now in charge of mergers at Weil Gotshal & Manges, working for Microsoft, Meta, and Eli Lilly.

There’s a whole bunch more, but Dayen reserves special notice for Andrew Smith, Trump’s FTC Consumer Protection boss. Before he was put on the public payroll, Smith represented 120 clients that had business before the Commission, including “nearly every major bank in America, drug industry lobbyist PhRMA, Uber, Equifax, Amazon, Facebook, Verizon, and a variety of payday lenders”:

https://www.citizen.org/sites/default/files/andrew_smith_foia_appeal_response_11_30.pdf

Before Khan, in other words, the FTC was a “conflict-of-interest assembly line, moving through corporate lawyers and industry hangers-on without resistance for decades.”

Khan is the first FTC head with no conflicts. This leaves her opponents in the sweaty, desperate position of inventing conflicts out of thin air.

For these corporate lickspittles, Khan’s “conflict” is that she has a point of view. Specifically, she thinks that the FTC should do its job.

This makes grifters like Jim Jordan furious. Yesterday, Jordan grilled Khan in a hearing where he accused her of violating an ethics official’s advice that she should recuse herself from Big Tech cases. This is a talking point that was created and promoted by Bloomberg:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2023-06-16/ftc-rejected-ethics-advice-for-khan-recusal-on-meta-case

That ethics official, Lorielle Pankey, did not, in fact, make this recommendation. It’s simply untrue (she did say that Khan presiding over cases that she has made public statements about could be used as ammo against her, but did not say that it violated any ethical standard).

But there’s more to this story. Pankey herself has a gigantic conflict of interest in this case, including a stock portfolio with $15,001 and $50,000 in Meta stock (Meta is another company that has whined in print and in its briefs that it is a poor defenseless lamb being picked on by big, mean ole Lina Khan):

https://www.wsj.com/articles/ethics-official-owned-meta-stock-while-recommending-ftc-chair-recuse-herself-from-meta-case-8582a83b

Jordan called his hearing on the back of this fake scandal, and then proceeded to show his whole damned ass, even as his GOP colleagues got into a substantive and even informative dialog with Khan:

https://prospect.org/power/2023-07-14-jim-jordan-misfires-attacks-lina-khan/

Mostly what came out of that hearing was news about how Khan is doing her job, working on behalf of the American people. For example, she confirmed that she’s investigating OpenAI for nonconsensually harvesting a mountain of Americans’ personal information:

https://www.ft.com/content/8ce04d67-069b-4c9d-91bf-11649f5adc74

Other Republicans, including confirmed swamp creatures like Matt Gaetz, ended up agreeing with Khan that Amazon Ring is a privacy dumpster-fire. Nobodies like Rep TomM assie gave Khan an opening to discuss how her agency is protecting mom-and-pop grocers from giant, price-gouging, greedflation-drunk national chains. Jeff Van Drew gave her a chance to talk about the FTC’s war on robocalls. Lance Gooden let her talk about her fight against horse doping.

But Khan’s opponents did manage to repeat a lot of the smears against her, and not just the bogus conflict-of-interest story. They also accused her of being 0–4 in her actions to block mergers, ignoring the huge number of mergers that have been called off or not initiated because M&A professionals now understand they can no longer expect these mergers to be waved through. Indeed, just last night I spoke with a friend who owns a medium-sized tech company that Meta tried to buy out, only to withdraw from the deal because their lawyers told them it would get challenged at the FTC, with an uncertain outcome.

These talking points got picked up by people commenting on Judge Jacqueline Scott Corley’s ruling against the FTC in the Microsoft-Activision merger. The FTC was seeking an injunction against the merger, and Corley turned them down flat. The ruling was objectively very bad. Start with the fact that Corley’s son is a Microsoft employee who stands reap massive gains in his stock options if the merger goes through.

But beyond this (real, non-imaginary, not manufactured conflict of interest), Corley’s judgment and her remarks in court were inexcusably bad, as Matt Stoller writes:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/judge-rules-for-microsoft-mergers

In her ruling, Corley explained that she didn’t think Microsoft would abuse the market dominance they’d gain by merging their giant videogame platform and studio with one of its largest competitors. Why not? Because Microsoft’s execs pinky-swore that they wouldn’t abuse that power.

Corely’s deference to Microsoft’s corporate priorities goes deeper than trusting its execs, though. In denying the FTC’s motion, she stated that it would be unfair to put the merger on hold in order to have a full investigation into its competition implications because Microsoft and Activision had set a deadline of July 18 to conclude things, and Microsoft would have to pay a penalty if that deadline passed.

This is surreal: a judge ruled that a corporation’s radical, massive merger shouldn’t be subject to full investigation because that corporation itself set an arbitrary deadline to conclude the deal before such an investigation could be concluded. That’s pretty convenient for future mega-mergers — just set a short deadline and Judge Corely will tell regulators that the merger can’t be investigated because the deadline is looming.

And this is all about the future. As Stoller writes, Microsoft isn’t exactly subtle about why it wants this merger. Its own execs said that the reason they were spending “dump trucks” of money buying games studios was to “spend Sony out of business.”

Now, maybe you hate Sony. Maybe you hate Activision. There’s plenty of good reason to hate both — they’re run by creeps who do shitty things to gamers and to their employees. But if you think that Microsoft will be better once it eliminates its competition, then you have the attention span of a goldfish on Adderall.

Microsoft made exactly the same promises it made on Activision when it bought out another games studio, Zenimax — and it broke every one of those promises.

Microsoft has a long, long, long history of being a brutal, abusive monopolist. It is a convicted monopolist. And its bad conduct didn’t end with the browser wars. You remember how the lockdown turned all our homes into rent-free branch offices for our employers? Microsoft seized on that moment to offer our bosses keystroke-and-click level surveillance of our use of our own computers in our own homes, via its Office365 bossware product:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/25/the-peoples-amazon/#clippys-revenge

If you think a company that gave your boss a tool to spy on their employees and rank them by “productivity” as a prelude to firing them or cutting their pay is going to treat gamers or game makers well once they have “spent the competition out of business,” you’re a credulous sucker and you are gonna be so disappointed.

The enshittification play is obvious: use investor cash to make things temporarily nice for customers and suppliers, lock both of them in — in this case, it’s with a subscription-based service similar to Netflix’s — and then claw all that value back until all that’s left is a big pile of shit.

The Microsoft case is about the future. Judge Corely doesn’t take the future seriously: as she said during the trial, “All of this is for a shooter videogame.” The reason Corely greenlit this merger isn’t because it won’t be harmful — it’s because she doesn’t think those harms matter.

But it does, and not just because games are an art form that generate billions of dollars, employ a vast workforce, and bring pleasure to millions. It also matters because this is yet another one of the Reaganomic precedents that tacitly endorses monopolies as efficient forces for good. As Stoller writes, Corley’s ruling means that “deal bankers are sharpening pencils and saying ‘Great, the government lost! We can get mergers through everywhere else.’ Basically, if you like your high medical prices, you should be cheering on Microsoft’s win today.”

Ronald Reagan’s antitrust has colonized our brains so thoroughly that commentators were surprised when, immediately after the ruling, the FTC filed an appeal. Don’t they know they’ve lost? the commentators said:

https://gizmodo.com/ftc-files-appeal-of-microsoft-activision-deal-ruling-1850640159

They echoed the smug words of insufferable Activision boss Mike Ybarra: “Your tax dollars at work.”

https://twitter.com/Qwik/status/1679277251337277440

But of course Khan is appealing. The only reason that’s surprising is that Khan is working for us, the American people, not the giant corporations the FTC is supposed to be defending us from. Sure, I get that this is a major change! But she needs our backing, not our cheap cynicism.

The business lobby and their pathetic Renfields have hoarded all the nice things and they don’t want us to have any. Khan and her trustbuster colleagues want the opposite. There is no measure so small that the corporate world won’t have a conniption over it. Take click to cancel, the FTC’s perfectly reasonable proposal that if you sign up for a recurring payment subscription with a single click, you should be able to cancel it with a single click.

The tooth-gnashing and garment-rending and scenery-chewing over this is wild. America’s biggest companies have wheeled out their biggest guns, claiming that if they make it too easy to unsubscribe, they will lose money. In other words, they are currently making money not because people want their products, but because it’s too hard to stop paying for them!

https://www.theregister.com/2023/07/12/ftc_cancel_subscriptions/

We shouldn’t have to tolerate this sleaze. And if we back Khan and her team, they’ll protect us from these scams. Don’t let them convince you to give up hope. This is the start of the fight, not the end. We’re trying to reverse 40 years’ worth of Reagonmics here. It won’t happen overnight. There will be setbacks. But keep your eyes on the prize — this is the most exciting moment for countering corporate power and giving it back to the people in my lifetime. We owe it to ourselves, our kids and our planet to fight one.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/14/making-good-trouble/#the-peoples-champion

[Image ID: A line drawing of pilgrims ducking a witch tied to a ducking stool. The pilgrims' clothes have been emblazoned with the logos for the WSJ, Microsoft, Activision and Blizzard. The witch's face has been replaced with that of FTC chair Lina M Khan.]

[seniaasaysstuff]

hii i was wondering if you do requests, ill leave here this request and if you dont do them or dont like this feel free to ignore this!<3

its sukuna (or characters of your choice) x fem! reader where she gave birth to a baby but sadly it died so she fell into depression and sukuna is worried but tries not to show it much

thank you even for reading this, take care!<3

TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️- miscarriage.

Hi anon! This is actually my first request haha. Thank you for the request! I tried to write a happy kind of ending?

Um I hope you like it :D Have a great day<33

SADNESS ; ryomen sukuna.

Sukuna may be considered as someone that didn’t have feelings, a monster, an unnatural freak but he loved you.

The first time he ever laid his eyes on you, sukuna knew you were the one for him.

Even though you were a sickly person, you diligently took care of sukuna when he was wounded. You tried your best to protect him from the villagers. You even went as far as taking a hit that was meant for him.

One day sukuna asked you to leave with him.

You accepted, you didn’t have anyone in the world other than him.

You knew about sukuna being a powerful sorcerer but you always worried about his safety.

Soon sukuna built an estate just for you.

He took great care of you. You never had to worry about a thing. He treated you like a queen.

He courted you and married you like a respectful gentleman.

Everyone in the estate respected you, some even feared you as they believed that you were the only one that could control sukuna.

The estate maids adored you, you treated them so kindly, always greeting them. To them even though you were a sickly person, you always were bubbly, so friendly.They always felt delighted when they saw sukuna sama treat you with devotion because in their eyes you deserved the best.

After a year of your marriage, you felt lonely.

When you noticed the estate maids with their children it made you cry.

You knew you would have great difficulty having kids but you wanted to try having a baby with sukuna. You always envisioned having a child that looked just like sukuna, your husband.

Sukuna vehemently refused as he was worried about your safety. But after your incessant pleas he gave in. He couldn’t handle you and your puppy dog eyes begging him for a baby every day and it worked.

You were finally pregnant. Sukuna got the most sought out doctors for you.

The pregnancy took a toll on you. It was taxing both for your physical and mental health. The morning sickness made you unable to stomach anything and it made you look even more sickly.

While you were walking around one day you felt cramps. They were alarming and it felt like you were dying. You felt something warm trickle down your leg. It felt like blood. You looked down and cried out. You were bleeding.

After hearing you scream, the maids came down rushing. They yelled for the doctor as they ushered you into the room. Sukuna dropped everything as he heard you cry out and ran towards your room.

Pain, all you could feel was pain when the doctor sadly informed you that you had miscarried. You wailed for your lost child.

You never really recovered from your miscarriage. You stopped leaving your room, always sitting in your room looking out of the window sadly. You lost your appetite neither did you have the energy to do anything.

You never really knew it but sukuna cried.

He was so worried for you. He didn’t care for the baby, sure it hurt but you were the only thing that mattered to him.

He did his best to cheer you up. He did not know what to do to make you feel better. He didn’t wish for you to grow distant and fall into depression. So he took you on walks, tried getting you gifts like jewelry, he attempted to make jokes to make you laugh but it didn’t work. Nothing worked.

He was growing even more frightened for you.

If you went on like this you could die and he didn’t want that.

One day sukuna dropped on his knees in front of you. “My love,” he rasped.

“Please let me take care of you. I vow to you that I would do everything in my power to help you. Don’t ignore me please my darling. Kill me if you wish but talk to me. I can’t handle you not talking to me.” His voice cracked. Tears were threatening to fall.

“It was not your fault. Believe me, it wasn’t, curse me all you want but please don’t do this. I can’t do this anymore- seeing you trying to kill yourself.” He let out a tired sigh.

You let out a sob. “I don’t know what to do kuna. I lost our baby.” Sukuna lifted and placed you in his lap. You clutched his kimono and wept against his chest.

“You didn’t lose our baby sweetheart. None of it was your fault. We can always try for another or adopt if you want hm?” He tried to soothe you.

“But-” You trembled. He placed a finger against your lips.

“My love, it's okay.” He assured you.

“It’s okay to miss the baby. But don’t beat yourself up over it.” He murmured.

A few months later you had settled down a bit. You at times felt empty. You didn’t have anything to fill up the void. Sure sukuna tried his best to keep you happy but it wasn’t enough.

“You know what? You wanted a baby to look like me right?” Sukuna barged inside your shared room with his hands behind his back. You were confused. You didn’t know what was going on nor Why he was bringing up babies?

“Here meet Yuji and Mizuho.” He handed you two infants.

“What is the meaning of this?” You shrieked.

“Did you steal someone’s kids?” You shouted. “Look at the children.” He whispered. You looked down and noticed they looked oddly similar to sukuna.

You glanced at him in bewilderment. “I made them with my cursed energy. I knew you wanted children but I couldn’t put you through hell again.” He proudly spoke.

“I know you were planning to name our child Yuji if it was a boy and Mizuho if it was a girl.” He added. Tears were brimming in your eyes. “You did all of this for me?” You stuttered.

“I love you. This was nothing. I’m willing to do anything for you.” He hoarsely spoke. “I know it will not make you forget about the baby nor will it fill the empty void. But I want you to be happy.”

[treason-and-plot]

At the other end of the table Helene gives a gentle laugh and spears a glistening piece of steak with her fork. Tom takes a long drink from his beer glass, as if toasting his own wit. Connor sets his fork down on his plate. Saffron tries to make eye contact with him but he is staring at the wooden salt and pepper shakers, his jaw clenched.

“That's not true at all,” Saffron says to Tom. "Why would you even say that?"

“Saff, it's okay," says Connor. “Dad just thinks he's being funny. Don't worry about it."

“All I'm trying to say is that Helene and I are exceedingly grateful to you for all you've done for Connor this term," says Tom. He bestows his shark-like smile upon her once again, but she doesn't smile back. “I meant academically, but I’m sure you’ve helped him in myriad other ways as well. We’ve noticed a lot of positive changes, haven’t we Helene?"

“Oh, definitely,” says Helene.

“What are you talking about? You wouldn't notice if I grew two heads,” says Connor.

“Watch the attitude, son,” says Tom. His tone is pleasant, and sends a small shiver down Saffron's spine.  

“I'm glad to hear that you think I'm a positive influence, because I was paranoid you'd think I was a bad influence after I made Connor skip school with me the other day," says Saffron. Tom looks at her blankly, his eyebrows raised.

“I didn’t hear anything about this,” says Tom. “Did you, Hel?”

“I think I may have received a voicemail or an email from the school, now that you mention it,” Helene says. “I probably just assumed it was a message asking me to donate to the second-hand uniform sale or something.”

“Wow," says Saffron. “My mother went off her head.”  

“Saffron’s mother is a police officer,” Helene tells Tom, as if this is the sole explanation for her reaction.

“Ah,” says Tom. “And what does your father do, Saffron?”

“Here we go,” mutters Connor.

“He operates a chain of childcare centres,” says Saffron.

“Really,” says Helene. “What's the name of his business?”

“Little Sprouts,” says Saffron. Both Helene and Tom make noises signifying their recognition and approval. 

“Oh, I’ve heard they’re doing very well!” Helene says. “Didn’t he just open several more centres?”

“Yeah, he’s got five now,” says Saffron.

“Does he use an accountancy firm?” says Tom. Connor mutters something under his breath.

“I think Mireille- his girlfriend- does all the accounting,” says Saffron.

“There’s a wise saying that I like to tell my clients, Saffron,” says Tom. “And that saying is: 'It’s not the money that matters, it’s how you use it that determines its true value'.”

He pauses for effect.

“Woah. Interesting,” Saffron deadpans while Connor stifles a loud yawn. Helene narrows her eyes at him.

“Now, I’m sure your Dad’s girlfriend is more than competent in the area of bookkeeping and handling the payroll and the rest of the basics, but how up to date is she with the latest tax laws?” says Tom. “Does she know how to forecast cash flow? Does she realise the importance of accurate record keeping? Does she have access to the most up-to-date accounting software, which will enable she and your father to maximise business efficiency and productivity?” 

"I have no idea," says Saffron sweetly. "But I'm guessing you do, right?"

[nordickies]

What's your opinion on rusfin? And the time Finland spent in Russian empire

While I don't really vibe with "Russia/Soviet State" ships in general (RusAme, RusFra, RoChu, etc. are more of my thing), I don't really have strong feelings about RusFin one way or another. It's not quite as unbalanced or overused as some other Russia ships, I feel like? Plus, like I stated earlier, I kind of like the idea of Russia being disinterested in romance, at least in the traditional sense. I personally don't have an interest in exploring them as a serious couple in my writing; I just can't see them ever working out. They'd become too toxic at some point and it wouldn't be fun anymore. And I think they have enough to deal with each other even without romance getting involved

And I'll be honest: I have never focused on Russia's character, and I'm always a bit lost on what I'd like to do with him. How would I characterize him? I think all hws characters should be allowed to have nuance and let be individuals at the end of the day. So, I don't think Ivan is the manifestation of all the evil things in the world. To me, he's an extremely flawed person who is easy to blame and villainize. For many of the characters, he embodies the worst memories and moments of their lives. Surely this is the case for Finland, too, which makes their friendship extremely complicated.

I think Fin is quite naive at the end of the day and always tries to see the good in people. He values mutual trust more than anything, which can be an admirable trait but also makes him prone to ignoring warning signs. Fin, in his youth at least, was rather easily led, and he unsuspectingly followed others and their orders, counting on them to have his back no matter what. While his trustiness can backfire at times, with Russia, it might have been the right approach. Because right away, Fin managed to build trust with him and Ivan, being calm and respectful, expecting them to handle this new situation in a professional manner. Perhaps Ivan is used to people being terrified around him, giving his paranoia reason to doubt their loyalty. But he never had that problem with Finland, and they got along surprisingly well.

Historical context: When Finland was seized by the Russian Empire in 1809, the Grand Duchy got a pretty good deal in exchange for the Estates swearing loyalty to the Russian Tsar; Finland would remain an autonomous region in the Russian Empire, and it got to keep its Swedish constitution, laws, language, religion, and even the right to keep the taxes it collected for itself. Finns were also exempted from the Russian military. The reason why Finns got such a good deal came down to Tsar Alexander I wanting to avoid excessive fighting during the Napoleonic Wars (he only seized Finland to pressure the King of Sweden in the embargo against England to begin with). By making a good enough offer, the Finns, who had been getting tired of the Swedish monarchy's growing incompetence and turmoil, wouldn't fight back. Also, the Tsar was interested in westernizing his Empire, so Finland's western state structure was perfect for that. Finland's and Tsars' relationship was rather special in the Empire, and Finns were viewed as exceptionally loyal and cooperative by the state. Finns had an easier time remaining loyal to the Tsar due to their freedoms and autonomy status, which they sought to protect by subjecting. For example, Tsar Nicholas I abolished various autonomies and freedoms in his Empire during his reign; except in Finland. This was partly due to Finnish soldiers' voluntary participation in crushing the November Uprising in 1830. When the Tsar's officials criticized Finland's independent status in 1850, Nicholas had allegedly said: "Leave the Finns alone. Finland is my large Empire's only province that has not caused me a minute of worry or dismay during my reign." Nicholas was not the only Tsar who viewed Finland so positively. Most Tsars had a summer house in Finland, and many of them wrote about their time in Finland being some of the most serene they have ever felt. For example, in 1891, Tsar Alexander III shocked his court by deciding to travel through Finland via train instead of by boat. When the court opposed this idea, calling it unsafe, the Tsar called their worries nonsense, stating "I have never needed any guards in Finland."

During his time in the Empire, Finland tried his best to get along with Russia, never provoking him and more so trying to keep attention away from himself, just so he didn't accidentally upset him. Like the aforementioned references tell us, I think Ivan actually trusted Finny and felt comfortable giving him more responsibilities, which inevitably let Fin get closer to him. And while Fin was aware of Russia's flaws and his own privileged position, he surely was also grateful for the freedoms that he had been granted. As bad as it must have felt, he had more possibilities there than he did with Sweden.

Finland probably had his own place, and he was free to come and go as he pleased. He was allowed to join Russia's events and meetings, probably as some kind of assistant, which was crucial for Finland to learn how their job operated and all the responsibilities that came with it. Traveling around Europe from event to event also meant Finny could build his first diplomatic relations with other nations he had never even met before - and even put his own name out there to begin with. It was all new and exciting to him, which in return made him want to keep up the positive relationship

However, Russia's clear favoritism toward Finland would not go unnoticed, and I think that could create some unfair gossip at Finland's expense. People probably think Russia is never nice or does anything good without wanting to gain something from it, so Finland must have done something really special to get his position. Without a doubt, this would sour Finland's relationship with some other people around the house who wouldn't respect his "bootlicking" and respect for Ivan. In the worst case, Finland didn't even know such rumors were spreading about him initially, leading to confusing encounters. I doubt Russia had any intention of clearing such rumors. After all, he didn't suffer from such gossip himself; more than anything, he could use it to his advantage. Whenever he wanted to annoy his old enemy Sweden, all he had to do was wrap his arm around Finland or move him closer - Innocent enough for Fin to not consider it too weird but powerful enough to upset Swe, who couldn't do anything about it. I also think Ivan would try to manipulate Fin's thoughts and insecurities just like anyone else's, being one of the tactics to keep people dependent and loyal to him. He'd feed misinformed ideas to Finland about his past, painting Swe in a worse light than he actually was.

I can really only talk from Finland's point of view, but I doubt Finland himself would have had romantic feelings toward Ivan. I think he saw their relationship as purely beneficial, something to better his own status after living in someone else's shadow for centuries. But he still respected Ivan, at least in the beginning, and believed they could work it out as friends. But I could also see Finny being prepared to act passive to Ivan's potential advances - at least to a certain point, if it meant a more favorable position for himself. Finny can be more cunning than people give him credit for. So even if something had happened between them, I doubt it was genuine, at least on his part. But again, I really don't know if Ivan would even care or try anything.

But in the end, their mutual respect wouldn't last forever. There's no way Finland's and Russia's relationship didn't crumple during the Russification period from the 1890s onwards. Finny most likely lost a lot of his previous freedoms, and he wasn't going to accept it, becoming uncooperative and dishonest. Due to this, Ivan quickly lost his trust in Fin as well, treating him like everyone else around the house. Unfortunately for Ivan, by letting Finny get so close to him in the beginning, it had opened Finland the opportunity to learn all of his tricks. By having had so much freedom and experience in nationwork, Finny was ready to seek his independence as soon as possible, when the moment was just right.

I could always write more, but maybe this is a good overview of their situation during the Empire years specifically. The decades after Finland's independence have been their own rollercoaster entirely. Also, I think personifications' relations are way more complicated than drawing one-to-one comparisons between real-life emperors and people, but here the emperors' favoritism just somehow works for their characters? Anyway, I just really don't know where I'd like to take Russia's character, so I can only write from Finland's point of view here. You can come to your own conclusions and ideas, I suppose!

[larcenywrites]

Could you write about how Tony is with a younger gf that's like half his age? And maybe a lot more energetic than him if you know what I mean 🤭 I understand if age gaps make you uncomfortable and you don’t want to write it though!

I’m into age gaps given the right circumstances, and I completely understand the appeal! I wasn’t quite sure what to write since it’s not something I really put much thought into anyway, but I think it turned out okay and pretty cute :)

Warnings: 18+ for sexual references and themes | mentions of Dom/sub stuff | age gap obviously | like two feminine/she/her pronouns used

💠 Tony doesn't particularly mind either way that his s/o is (a lot) younger than him, but admittedly, he didn't expect that he'd end up with someone younger! He figured he'd prefer someone closer to his age, with whom he could share similar experiences of life...

💠 But the world works in mysterious ways! And it definitely works in mysterious ways when you find yourself in a loving relationship with Earth's grumpiest Avenger! Well... one of Earth's grumpiest Avengers 🤭

💠 It's partly his older age and partly his stressful job that has him tired and irritable, but lucky for him, you found this grumpy old man sweet and handsome 🥰

💠 And now he’s your grumpy old man 🥰

💠 He’s always had a thing for being the more dominant one. He wants to be bigger and stronger, the protector and provider, and his older age helps play into that!

💠 He definitely loves to spoil you! Anything you want!! He just loves spending money on his lovers, but in a way, he’s kinda showing off 🤭 not necessarily to you, but to prove that him being older still has its advantages 😉 a much younger man probably couldn’t treat you this well 💅

💠However… there’s often a difference between how much a person in their early 20s works and how much a person in their 40s works. You may not be used to your boyfriend working like 8-9 hours a day nearly every day! It might be quite the learning curve not having him around as often as you’d be used to :( Tony does feel pretty bad about it, he can remember being much more free and clingy too, so he cuts you some slack when you wanna bother him at work or in the lab 😉🩵

💠 He loves when he can teach you new things! He has a soft spot for it 🥰 even if it’s just the cleanest way to separate the egg yolk or just, like, how to do taxes, he enjoys being helpful and teaching you new things :) it’s cute tbh 🥰

💠 And he also loves getting to watch you practice things and keep learning things!! Are you cooking a ton of new things every day? Awesome! Even if it’s the same stuff or doesn’t always turn out good!! If you’re a college student, he’ll adore watching you work and read!

💠 You’re also from a whole different generation than him, so you’ve probably got a few things to teach him, too 😌💅 From new music to social media! While he’s still not really into the latter, he does enjoy all kinds of music!

💠But because you’re from different generations, his gestures may feel a bit more… old fashioned? But they’re classy! Always bringing flowers, always kissing your hand, always offering his arm for you to hold onto on a walk, offering his coat— it’s enough to make you feel like royalty honestly 🥰

💠 Though, it may feel a bit weird at first hanging out with his little social circle? They’re pretty much all Tony’s age, so you may feel a little out of place. Rhodey is actually quite welcoming though! Well, you weren’t there when he teased Tony about it a little 😅 but it wasn’t aimed at you! Honesty he was just happy to see his friend going out again :) in fact, Rhodey is probably the first person you’ll meet! After all, Tony’s parents aren’t around, and there’s no one else quite so important and close to him 🥲

💠 But don’t worry, Tony feels just as awkward with your similarly-aged friends 😅 and he was very nervous to meet your friends and/or family! Shit, he’s likely the same age as your parents 😭 while that might make things a little awkward as well… it’s actually pretty nice that they can share and bond over their very similar experiences and childhoods!

💠 Sometimes he wonders what his parents would think… but he’s pretty sure his dad was older, too! He likes to talk about them a little bit, and about his younger years. It probably kinda reminds you of how your own parents talk about how they grew up and how different it was from how you did, but it’s much more cute to hear Tony talk about it 😘

💠 Obviously loves to be called Daddy, but the age gap really has it driving him up the wall 😈 it's an authority thing, a power thing, and definitely a Dom thing 😏 and plus, you’re probably more, uh, innocent than he is 😏

💠 Bunny, princess, little deer, sweetie— he has all sorts of pet names to remind you of not just the age gap, but the gap in your power dynamic, too 🥴

💠 He definitely also loves teaching you new things in the bedroom 😈 there’s gotta be something you haven’t done yet if you have been sexually active before, and he’ll be sure to figure it out and teach you right 😌😉

💠 But he is still older, probably a lot older, and that does come with some… differences. Sure, he can go for a while, but once he cums a time or two 😮‍💨 he’s down for the count! So when you still want to go for another round, he’ll probably just have to hype you up while you touch yourself, or you’ll just have to settle for his hand 😅 it is kinda cute, the way you can tire him out 🤭 and he does find your high sex drive pretty hot 😘 he can go again as long as you can wait like an hour or two! The cuddles are great, though, if you do fall asleep 🥰

💠 He calls you the Energizer Bunny since you can go for so long 🤧 but he can remember being like that, too, when he was younger 🥴

💠Sometimes he (maybe a bit sad or insecure) jokes about if only you’d been able to meet him when he was younger, but give him a little kiss and remind him how glad you are to have met him now 🥰🥰🥰🥰

💠 He never thought he’d be insecure about his age, but… he is a little :( especially if you do comment on a picture of a younger him about how hot he was 😔 young age had him so naturally sculpted and more physically inclined. He was very pretty, huh! And while he’s obviously still strong, he’s got a little bit of tummy, and scarring, and crinkles in the corners of his eyes— a shame you didn’t get to see him back then!

💠 “You’re so silly, Tony~” you scold lovingly, interrupting his reminiscing of the past. You enjoy hearing his stories, but not when he starts to beat himself up! Another quick kiss shuts him up 🥰 And eventually he stops worrying so much about it 🩵

💠 But… Tony Stark dating someone younger? Possibly someone even like- half his age or more? It’s bound to gain traction in social media. Of course, some are positive, some are not, but either way, he really doesn’t want to deal with it :/ and he really doesn’t want you to deal with it :( and it kinda makes him feel worse that you have to :(

💠 But he’s gotta admit: your brighter mood and energy has made him happier, even at work! He wants to do stuff again! Like take you to his favorite cities and go on picnics and to the aquarium! Like the dates he took plenty of exes on when he was your age and loved 🥲 sometimes he even comments about how you make him feel young again 🥰

💠 And when he says stuff like that, you’re probably like “🙄 You sound old when you say stuff like that 🤭” but without skipping a beat, he makes sure to correct you.

💠 “I am old 🤨.”

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

More Nimona headcanons cause I'm bored

Bal and Ambrosius are absolutely those people who take Valentines Day seriously 

But not in the way you would think

They’re not that couple that acts like Valentine's Day is specific to couples

No they acknowledge that its about all kind of love platonic, familial, self love the whole shebang

So they go out of their way to spend time with their friends and loved ones and take time to take care of themselves 

Some years they even host little get together with their loved ones

Like don't get me wrong they absolutely spoil each other rotten and have stupidly sappy romantic dinners 

But that isn’t the main focus of the day

They kind of expected Nimona to hate Valentine's Day 

I mean it seems like the perfect time for her to rant about how “Valentine's Day is a made up Holiday by greeting card companies”

But they fucking love Valentine's Day 

It’s the one day out of the year that their favorite colors are spread across the city and chocolate is literally everywhere 

They even participate in the boy's little get-togethers and help them set up

So in my personal opinion there is no way that a singular person in the trio had a normal childhood 

In the clip of Bal jumping the fence he looked around 7-9 which is when I assume he started his training and we can assume he was homeless before that

Ambrosius has been training to be a knight since he was a kid

And the only moments we got to see Nimona being a kid were with Gloreth which is really short in the grand scheme of her existence 

So I like to think that they take at least one day out of the month to do something childish

Whether that be going to an amusement park, hanging out in an arcade, going to a movie theater and then getting ice cream afterward

You know things that none of them got to do when they were “kids”

And slowly but surely they start to heal their inner child

They really look forward to those days and it becomes the highlight of their month

I feel like the trio all have different ideas of money

Even though he didn’t have a great childhood money was never something he dreamed of worrying about

And not in like a snobby way either (it’s lowkey cute to watch this grown man try and wrap his head around taxes)

There have been multiple times when Bal has expressed that he wants something and Ambrosius buys it without thinking 

Bal will just look at him and go “Love this was 6,000 dollars” and Ambrosius just tilts his head like a golden retriever and goes “Yeah is that okay”

All the while Bal is trying not to puke because he hasn’t held more than 400 dollars in his hand 

Nimona has no concept of money because whenever he wanted something he’d steal it 

He’s been around longer than money so he finds the concept incredibly amusing 

She’s gotten in multiple arguments with finance bros because she’s said with a straight face “Why can’t we just print more?” 

And she just laughed as their faces got progressively redder because she genuinely doesn’t get it 

Bal is on the complete opposite side of the spectrum 

He’s always been cautious of his spending 

And while this isn’t inherently a bad thing it’s stopped him from doing things he really wants 

Slowly but surely Nimona and Ambrosius have gotten him to break those habits 

Mostly by spending Ambrosius' families money

[skyward-floored]

(More hdw au, several months after this memory)

Gentle humming drifts through the air as Queen Adeline rocks her baby, little Zelda’s eyes finally slipping closed in slumber. Adeline looks down at her arms to be sure her daughter is asleep, and as she finishes her lullaby, she makes her way across the room, careful to step lightly.

“Goodnight my sweet Zelda,” Queen Adeline whispers, giving her tiny daughter a kiss as she places her in her bed. “Dream pleasant dreams.”

Zelda doesn’t react, other than with a quiet snuffling noise, and Adeline gives her one more smile before leaving her be.

She stifles a yawn as she then dresses for bed, slipping her shoes off with a relieved sigh. An ache is present in her toes, and Adeline winces at the state of her feet as she finally sits down.

Her husband is away checking the state of a new training outpost, so she’s been running around twice as much as normal. Adeline would have gone along with him, but Zelda was too small to travel, and things needed to be kept up with here.

Though the extra amount of work she’s had to deal with along with a baby has been taxing, even without the added stress of traveling, and she is, admittedly, worn out.

It used to be I could handle a week of days like this without batting an eye, she thinks as she lays back on her bed with a sigh. And look at me now. Nothing but an exhausted mother with achy feet.

Zelda lets out a soft coo in her sleep, and Adeline can’t help her smile.

I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

A quiet rapping at her door makes her ears prick, and Adeline sits up, then reluctantly stands when the knocking repeats a few moments later. Seems she won’t get to rest just yet.

“Just a moment please,” she calls, putting on a comfortable pair of slippers and a robe, and then heads to the door.

She opens it, and is met with the familiar sight of one of her closest friends, Impa’s red eyes bright in the dim lighting of the hallway.

Adeline smiles. She hasn’t seen Impa all that much since she got back from her most recent assignment, even though Impa was recently appointed her daughter’s bodyguard. But her smile slips as she realizes Impa looks terrible, dark circles under her eyes, hair slipping out of its usual neat bun. She seems like she’s barely standing, and Adeline puts a hand on her arm in worry.

“Impa? What brings you here so late?” Adeline asks. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but... are you alright?”

“I’m so sorry to disturb you your highness. But I need... I need to speak with you,” Impa says in a small voice, unusually small for her.

Adeline’s worry deepens, but she nods at her, and quickly gestures Impa in. She leads her to the small couch in her quarters, and Impa sits, her arms crossed over her middle and face oddly nervous.

The queen sits next to her, giving her room, but close enough to offer support if it’s wanted. She’s had an exhausting day, but her friend is far more important than getting a proper night’s sleep. Especially if she’s resorting to visiting her so late in the day, looking so terrible. It must be important.

“So what is it you need, Impa?” Adeline asks lightly, leaning back on her seat. “Is something wrong?”

Impa continues to stare at the floor, her face curiously blank as her arms tighten around her middle. When she still doesn’t say anything, Adeline hesitantly puts a hand on Impa’s shoulder, and she flinches, finally looking over and meeting her eyes.

Adeline is shocked to see tears in them.

“Impa..?” she asks softly, urgently.

Maybe it’s her quiet voice, maybe it’s her hand on her shoulder, or maybe it’s even the fact that Impa is actually very close to her breaking point, but all of a sudden her tears spill over and Impa is crying.

Adeline stares in further shock at the tears streaming down Impa’s face before quickly tugging her into a hug, her friend’s breath hitching with quiet sobs.

“Impa, whatever is the matter?” she asks as Impa cries into her shoulder, worry thick in her voice. She’s never seen Impa like this, her strong, stoic friend heaving soft sobs into her arms. Not even when they were children did Impa cry like this— something must be terribly wrong.

Impa sniffles.

“I think—” she says, letting out a hiccup. “I think I made a mistake.”

Adeline meets her eyes, Impa shakily wiping some tears away, and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“Tell me what happened,” she says gently, and Impa nods, breathing out.

Adeline rings for some tea before they start, needing something to keep herself awake, and knowing Impa will appreciate it. She knows her friend’s favorite brew, and Impa does look calmer once she has the warm beverage in her hands, her tears stopped for the moment.

Impa sighs.

“During— during the assignment,” she finally begins, looking down at her tea and not at Adeline. “With the diplomatic party to the Eldin caves. You know we met with the Gorons, but they aren’t the only ones who live in that area.”

“Yes... I recall mentions of a dragon before. I believe he was to be included in the negotiations,” Adeline replies with a gentle nod. “All of the reports said everything went very well... were they incorrect?”

“No, they were correct,” Impa says, taking a long sip of tea. “The ambassador did his job well. The negotiations went exceptionally, with both parties.”

She sniffles again.

“Other matters just... didn’t.”

Adeline offers her a handkerchief, but Impa shakes her head, her tears stopped for now.

“What happened, Impa?” Adeline asks gently, aware there’s something her friend isn’t saying. Impa sighs, and tightly closes her eyes, holding her tea cup so tightly Adeline wonders if it will break.

“...I fell in love,” she whispers finally. “With the dragon knight Volga.”

The words are like a cold splash of water, Adeline blinking in shock, but as Impa squeezes her eyes shut, Adeline shakes off her disbelief and gently pats her shoulder.

“Oh Impa,” she says softly.

Impa breathes shakily in through her nose.

“I thought him insufferable at first, prideful and so full of himself. To my dismay we kept ending up together, during meetings and dinners and spars and everything, it seemed like he was always around with a smirk on his lips and some ignorant comment. It wasn’t until there was a monster attack and we fought together that somehow I realized there was more to him, and we just... we grew closer. We didn’t trust each other a bit at first, but somehow things changed, and we... suddenly we were in love,” Impa whispers, clutching her teacup.

“I did wonder why you barely wrote to me,” Adeline says, putting her hand over Impa’s. “I assumed you were too busy... which I suppose was correct, in a way.”

Impa almost smiles, then breaths in slowly.

“Yes. I apologize for not doing so. Between Volga and my duties, I had little free time,” she says, setting her tea cup down. “But back to what happened. I... it turns out dragon courting customs are different then both Hylian and Sheikah. I gifted Volga a particularly interesting crystal I discovered one day after we sparred, but it turns out the way I presented it, and what happened beforehand... it is the first step of how dragons propose to one another.“

Adeline can’t help her gasp.

“You proposed unknowingly?”

“Yes. Volga reciprocated, but I did not realize what had happened at first... but once we both figured out what had happened, I... I went along with it. And we were married. Or, mates, as he put it.”

Adeline mulls the tale over for a moment, almost unable to believe it despite hearing it from Impa herself. Impa is many things, but impulsive is not one of them, and going along with a marriage she did not intend is... very unlike her.

Which can only mean...

“...You truly love him, don’t you?” Adeline asks softly, and Impa closes her eyes.

“I... I did. I do. Let me finish,” she whispers. “We kept everything a secret, so as not to cause problems with the negotiations. I... also do not know what others’ reactions would be, especially the other Sheikah. Volga keeps company with monsters, even if he is not one himself. So we kept it all hidden. And everything was going so well despite all of the secrecy, and we were happy, the both of us, but... but then it was time for the ambassador to leave. And me with him.”

Impa’s voice shakes a little. “Volga thought I would stay with him, help him guard over the caves. I told him I couldn’t, not with my duty to Hyrule and the royal family, and my tribe as well. I wanted us to continue our relationship from a distance, but somehow it all just... went wrong. We fought, badly, and I...”

Impa wipes a hand over her eyes. “I left. I was out of time. I tried to talk to Volga once more before leaving, but he refused to speak to me. And now...”

Impa’s voice breaks, and Adeline puts her hand on her shoulder.

“I’m expecting,” she chokes out, and begins to cry in earnest again. “I’m expecting, Addy, and I don’t know what to do.”

Adeline pulls Impa back into a hug again, and her friend sobs, hurt and fear and anger and grief all spilling out with her cries.

“Oh Impa, you’ve been dealing with all of this alone?” Adeline breathes, holding her tight. “You’ve been back for weeks, I can’t imagine...”

No wonder she hasn’t been the same since she returned.

Adeline holds Impa tighter, and does nothing but rub a soothing hand along her back for several minutes, Impa trying to get a hold of herself and failing quite miserably.

“It’ll be alright. We’ll figure this out, I promise,” Adeline says gently, and Impa wipes a hand over her eyes. “Do you know how far along you are?”

“Somewhere around two months,” Impa whispers. “I began to suspect shortly after returning, but the signs are unmistakable now. I confirmed it earlier.”

She sniffles and wipes another hand over her eyes, and Adeline pulls back a little.

“We’ll figure this out,” she repeats gently, taking Impa’s hands in hers. “Things will be okay, Impa. For you and your baby.”

“But this child shouldn’t even exist!” Impa cries, her eyes even more red then normal. “They will be half dragon, Adeline, and we may have an agreement that Volga is technically a part of now, but he is still not trusted! A relationship with him is unthinkable among the Sheikah, they might not even accept our marriage as legitimate! How will my tribe react at the news that I carry his child?” she chokes out.

“Impa, all will be well,” Adeline says gently.

“I will not be able to fulfill my duties to you and the princess if I have my own child to care for!” Impa says thickly. “And my tribe may very well kick me out once they learn what I’ve done. How will all be well, your majesty? Answer me that.”

“Because I will help you,” she assures, voice firm with conviction. “You are not alone, Impa. I am on your side.”

She squeezes Impa’s hands.

“I’ll help you think of a plan. A great many things can be blamed on a sleep-deprived queen who recently had a baby,” she says with a wink. “If we work together, we can keep things quiet, and nobody will ever need to know who the father is. You’ll both be safe.”

“I can’t ask that of you your majesty,” Impa whispers, and Adeline sighs, looking at her tea which is now lukewarm at best.

Zelda shifts a little in her crib across the room, but she doesn’t wake, and silence falls over the room.

“...Do you remember when we were younger, and we pretended we were sisters?” Adeline asks after a minute. Impa nods, a minuscule smile forming on her tearstained face.

“Yes. You insisted we should be twins, despite you being three years older and us both looking nothing alike.”

“Oh, we looked plenty alike, hush,” Adeline huffs, and Impa’s smile grows just a little. “...my point is that we looked out for each other then, before either of us had any sort of importance beyond titles that were meaningless to us both. That hasn’t changed. I want to help you, Impa.”

Impa looks at her, gratitude shining in her eyes, but her gaze is still dim with grief.

“You’re certain?” she asks quietly.

Adeline nods again. “I’m certain. You’re my friend, Impa, I won’t leave you to figure this out by yourself. Plus you’ve saved my life at least twice, this is the least I can do.”

“You know I don’t require repayment for that,” she murmurs.

“No, but I still want to help you,” Adeline replies decisively, and tugs Impa into a hug again. “We can get to work on a plan as soon as you’re ready. I’m behind you all the way.”

Impa exhales, lowering her gaze, and Adeline can’t help but notice when her arm returns to resting around her middle.

The silence falls back between them, drained and quiet, and Adeline rests her head back on the couch they’re on, the tiredness she’d forgotten about now returning. She doesn’t want to deny Impa the comfort of having someone sit with her though, not after so long with dealing with this alone, and so she remains where she is, Impa’s head resting on her shoulder.

“...I’m scared,” Impa suddenly whispers, in a voice so quiet that Adeline barely hears it.

Adeline swallows, and gently sets her head against hers. “All I can tell you is that I was too,” she replies softly. “And that I’m here to help. You’re not alone, Impa.”

Impa lets out a sigh, heavy with exhaustion and grief, and Adeline knows there’s nothing more she can say.

All she can do is continue to hold her friend, and support her as best as she can.

[baka-bakeneko]

Chaos Theory Miguel O'Hara x Reader

"in another life, i would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you"

tags: reminiscing, wishful thinking, feelings of grief, slightest mention of emotional abuse, cheating, crying, feelings of hope, Miguel-canon aggression, PTSD, slow sex synopsis: Miguel, after being injured by an anomaly, stops somewhere he shouldn't have word count: 2.5k a/n: come feel the sad angsts with me

Miguel sat at the kitchen counter, staring at your worried shoulders as you wrang out a bloody washcloth. He'd tried to avoid this verse for so long, told Lyla that its coordinates were blacklisted in his computer and should also be from his watch.

Because it was too hard to see you. Especially in this state. You were not to be interfered with, your life with your husband the quiet peace that Miguel wanted to give you, in another lifetime.

You were still his wife, though you didn't know it. But somewhere deep down, when you glanced over your bunched shoulder at Miguel, he hoped you recognized him. Like the man in your dream, the faint touch on your neck, the warrant thought of a kiss on your inside thigh just against your beauty mark.

That was all him, he was the groundbreaker for those instances and he wanted you to snap into place and recognize him as such.

But you didn't. And you wouldn't.

Another pierce in his already bleeding heart. You turned around to face him, leaning in to swipe carefully at the gash on his cheek.

"What happened to you?" You asked, your concern more than sweet.

Your hand rested on his shoulder, withholding a gulp as you stepped closer between his legs to swipe at the gash on his neck.

"I-uh-tripped through a glass window," Miguel lied, clenching his hands on his lap to avoid grasping at your waist.

He focused his dull glare at one of the kitchen cabinets, wincing softly when you patted too hard at his neck.

You turned around again to wring the washcloth once more in warm water, then set it on the counter. You reached for the gauze and rubbing alcohol, turning around to rest it on the counter closest to Miguel's elbow.

You tsked dryly, stepping close to this man again. You relaxed your shoulders and dapped at the gauze with the alcohol before tapping it gently to the man's neck first.

He withstood a soft flinch, his teeth baring slightly at the sting. You noticed his sharp tooth, something so unnatural for a normal man like him.

"Miguel," You chastised lowly, leaning into the man slightly to scan his wound for glass. "We can't keep meeting like this."

His lips curled into a grin, slowly letting his lips fall back into his natural frown. "I know."

Miguel knew it was wrong for him to keep circling back to this verse, his presence in it was an anomaly in itself. Still, once he arrived the first time after falling from another verse, Miguel felt attracted to come back every time he was injured.

That was always within you, your willingness to aid others. Whether it was stray cats or abandoned baby birds, you were always there lending your help.

Miguel remembered having to climb under the car to retrieve a kitten that wedged itself near the engine during the winter storm the night before and how you were staring down at him from under the hood.

"Be careful!" You offered, hiding your cold nose behind your mittens.

"Nena, its okay, I've got this," Miguel murmured, looking up at the winter sky haloed around you.

You begged him to keep the little tabby after it was freed and Miguel, a man controlled by your hand on his heart, agreed without a second thought.

He hissed inwardly again when you pinched out a spare piece of glass. He felt his talons curling into his palms, breathing steadily while you patched him up carefully.

"How's your husband?" Miguel asked, the question only twisting a knife into his heart.

You backed away an inch and looked over Miguel's shoulder, around the kitchen to the doorway. Of course he wasn't home but you could never be too sure.

Miguel's throat tightened, watching your stare grow wild looking around to make sure you were still alone. He didn't want to know what the man had done to you to make you so on edge, but it caused a raw nerve to twitch between his shoulders.

"He's fine," you said, stressing your words while you returned your focus to Miguel again.

Miguel couldn't help his hand grabbing your wrist then, as you reached to tape his cheek. He stood up from the chair, immediately towering over you.

"Are you sure?" He asked with a curious tilt of his head.

Miguel looked behind him to still see that you two were alone. Returning to your presence, he noticed your other hand bracing his stomach.

He glanced at your fingers scratching softly at his shirt; your fingers spread apart to touch more of his hardened body.

Miguel felt... familiar under your fingertips. If you recounted your most lucid dreams, you could pinpoint the scent Miguel gave off right now.

He knew that your touch was not sanctioned like this, how dangerous it would be if your hand wandered.

But he didn't want to stop you.

"Ne--" he cut himself off and snapped back to this reality, not one constructed in a tragedy. "Y/N...do you...fear him?"

Your brows quirked, staring at Miguel's tight shirt then matched his gaze. You wanted to shake your head, he was your husband after all, but he didn't give you the innate safe feeling that this man before you did.

Your throat lodged with a swallow, already curving your chin left ready to swing back with a dissuade of Miguel's accusation.

His top lip curled then, your defiance to the answer he could see in your eyes. Miguel's free hand grasped your chin between his thumb and index finger.

Staring deeply into your eyes, everything he once called you came to mind besides your name. This was his tresuro, his cariña, his nena, mamí, mujer hermosa, bebé mamá.

He had to bite through his damn tongue lest one of his terms slip as he remapped the divets in your irises. A singular tear threatened him, making his nose sting with every emotion he felt towards you.

How badly he missed your kiss.

You held your breath, staring up at this beautiful stranger. His chocolate eyes were rich and echoing, begging you to recall where he was from. To recall why you knew how to touch him now.

Your mind was running blank and tears welled in your eyes then, conflicted by the loyalty to your husband and whatever Miguel was stirring within you now.

Miguel brought your hand up to his heart, let your palm rest firmly against him to hear his heart racing. He knew he was something to you, someone but he said nothing.

You feared what that meant, but couldn't stop your heart racing the same for him.

Miguel leaned down, cautious to scare you away, and found your lips with his. Your shock was half-phoned, your lips molding to his as if he'd kissed you a thousand times before. Miguel reasoned it on a thousand a day.

A whimper escaped as it did him, his face contorting and giving way to how miserable he was inside. You were so close, but not his.

His eyes squeezed shut, tears streaking down his cheeks as your eyes fluttered shut. A few tears escaped you, your arms straightening out to wrap around Miguel's broad neck.

He sniffled into you, coming to terms with what he was doing now. If he kept going, he'd never be able to come back.

He'd have to search another million verses to find a version of you again. His heart wrenched in his chest, whimpering into you again.

Miguel couldn't stop himself though. He has to feel you again, to feel your lips and hips and skin. He had to remember how you felt pressed against him, how you sounded.

All he wouldn't be able to do was feel Gabriella kicking inside you. You hummed softly into Miguel's kiss, retreating when his tears tainted his taste.

"Lo siento," Miguel whispered, regaining his composure in an instant before returning to your kiss.

It all happened so fast. Miguel's hands grabbed your waist, pulled you firmly into him, allowing him to tower fully over you.

You fought to keep it chaste, to break off of him though your body felt this all as second nature with Miguel.

He lifted you into his hold with one arm, blinding trekking through your house to find your bedroom. He slammed the door firmly behind him then tossed you onto the bed, your downy grey comforter ballooning up around you.

Miguel lifted your shirt and kissed down your stomach, hiding his tears against your skin with timid nips. He'd admire your body in every verse if he could, his beautiful wife. Mother of his child.

He wiggled your pants down slightly, kissing at every new patch of skin revealed.

Your mind was unraveling in the huffs of silence. The daylight peered through your windows, the breeze of the afternoon seeping through your grey decorated bedroom, the air picking up the sheer curtains in billows.

Miguel inspected your skin for any marks, knowing that if you truly feared him, he'd have done something. He waded your pants down to your ankles, freeing your sex to catch the air.

He furrowed his brows in reminisce at the sight, pushing your thighs apart to find your beauty mark. When he did, Miguel pressed his lips there, licked and nipped at it as if touching it would bring you back to him.

You reached a hand out to comb through Miguel's luscious hair, making him pull away from your beauty mark.

He stared up your body, meeting your gaze with his reddened eyes. You felt his stare begging for your mind to catch up, to know him, remember him.

Miguel took your in-turned brows as the answer to his pleas, it wasn't working. He righted his mouth to your inside knee, trailing his tongue up to your inside hip.

Fine, he gave up. You wouldn't remember him. But now he'd never let you forget him.

Your sex clenched at the blow of warm air from Miguel's mouth, edging up on your elbow to watch him.

He slinked his tongue inside you, not warming you up to tease. He wanted to be unforgettable.

Your face pinched, planting your heels onto the edge of the bed. Miguel hungrily, selfishly, nudged his face further into you, causing your body to tense.

"M-M-Miguel," you stuttered, losing all edge with a loud moan slipping out with a drop of your head.

He hummed in response, his hands taking grip of your hips to pull you harder onto his mouth. He was going to imprint you with him, cause a detrimental change to every version of you after this.

Your hand tightened on his locks, wanting to pull him off and into you. The heat picked up low in your stomach, a pooling sensation leveling further up with each lap Miguel gave to your walls.

He pulled off of you to finally catch his breath. He stared down at your diminutive expression, your whole face holding a sense of edge.

Just like he remembered you to do. You never begged him for more, only pouted that it was over. Miguel scoffed dryly, bringing the collar of his shirt up to wipe away your essence.

He outstretched over you, kissing you again as his hands slipped under your shirt. You attempted to help him undress, wading your hands up under his shirt but he never caught on.

Miguel wanted this to be about you; he unclasped your bra with a simple flick of his fingers, peeled your shirt off with a quick pause at your lips.

He reached to pull his waistband down, your hands finally aiding him in that effort. When his cock was free of its confines, Miguel parted from your mouth to look down at the meet of your bodies.

He glanced back at you, knowing that this was the beginning of the end. He couldn't go back from this.

Your hands slipped up to his shoulders, pecking the corner of his mouth as he silently debated his limited options.

"What's wrong?" you asked in a whisper.

Miguel shook his head, his eyes watering again. "N-nothing, nothing mi corazon."

He shut your next question down with a deep kiss, readying his cock before thrusting slowly into you.

Your face broke with a moan into Miguel's mouth. His eyes broke again, crying outwardly onto your skin.

You ignored his tears as they slipped down his cheeks and dotted your chest; you couldn't help but feel his anguish just the same. You broke from his mouth to kiss his leaking eyes, down his slick cheeks and back to him.

Miguel rocked his hips rhythmically, his arms curled around your head. He wanted to keep you, savor you in a pocket dimension so he'd never lose you again.

His tears were now angered, hot saline streaking down his cheeks with the thought of losing you again.

You crossed your arms along his broad back, heaving out your own sniffles to this stranger.

Miguel whipped his heart internally, cursing himself inside for acting so impulsively. This was not meant to happen, but he was never level-headed with you.

He pumped into you, ignoring your keen breaths as he imagined and reimagined you with him. Your skin, your laughter, how you held his head in your lap, your croon-awful singing.

Miguel parted from you, leaning further into you to nudge his nose against yours.

"T-te amo," Miguel whimpered lowly against your lips. He kept his eyes welded shut for fear he'd lose himself and crush you into him. "Me escuchas, nena? Te amo, Te amo, Te amo."

He leaned further to kiss at your ear, driving his cock hard into you before whimpering at the fluttering of your soft walls.

Your eyes rolled with your head craning back, moaning out Miguel's name. You relished in him deep inside you, his hips stalled against yours.

He came undone over you, ducking his head under chin to whisper your name against your collar. Miguel pulled out of you, cumming into his hand before rolling over to sit on the edge of your bed.

You caught your breath, touching your fingers to your chest and cheek to finally acknowledge the tears.

Miguel looked over his shoulder at you, savored his last few moments before typing in the coordinates of headquarters on his watch.

You looked over at Miguel, noticing he'd disappeared into thin air. Sitting up, you stared at the billowing curtains around your window hoping to see a glimpse of him as he made his escape.

Your eyes watered at the sudden emptiness you felt from his leaving; you grabbed at the comforter and pulled it up to your chest with a tear slipping down your cheek.

Miguel stood before his computer screen, watching your realization unfold in real time. His eyes threatened a final time before he bit it away and continued staring on. He'd wiped his hand on his pants in disgust, waiting for the appropriate time to clean up.

"What'cha watching?" Lyla asked innocently, popping in over Miguel's shoulder.

Miguel instinctively reached for the button to turn the broadcast off, straightening his shoulders as he sniffed.

"Nothing."

[rex101111]

Y’know I’m thinking, and Tiamat showing up in Mobile now, after all this time, is kinda making me feel things. 

Guda is pretty much on the brink here, right? They’ve got seven+ worlds full of people that deserved to live just as much as our own world under their belt, that fight against ORT was physically and emotionally taxing to the extreme, and overall their humanity is being held on to with bloody fingers...and its beginning to slip.

Fujimaru is on their last fucking legs, emotionally and physically and spiritually exhausted, they need a fucking break. So what does the Throne send them? Someone who has unconditional and unstoppable compassion for them, someone who will sit them down and make sure they eat, who will worry for them and keep close and listen to them.

Someone who asked that we never love her again...but humans are weird, contrary creatures, if someone tells us not to love them, what else can we do but love them even more?

The Throne sends Tiamat, because sometimes what you need is a lap to lay on and for someone to tell you you’re doing alright...sometimes you just need your mom.

[nyahchis]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 - kento nanami ☆‎‎‎‎  © vnsux

🌲 it's late, but you just can't sleep, so kento decides he'd stay up with you, just this once, because you deserve it. 0.69k [ prompt list ] [ day one ] [ day three ]

🌲 cw. reader degrades themself, reader is gn, no pronouns are used, implied marraige

the sounds of your muffled sniffles filled the empty room, and aside from the crackle-pop of the fireplace, it was the only noise in the whole house. you didn’t want to worry kento today. you always worried kento. well, more like he was always worried about you, but you just seemed to think it was all your fault.

you stare into the burning flames of the fireplace in front of you, the usually comforting hot air not doing its job. you sigh, and wipe your tears from your flushed cheeks, stressed. you had been thinking a lot, about how kento was always the one who paid the bills, and how you felt useless, and how you didn’t know what you were going to do with your life, but you never said a word to kento–you were worried if you did, he’d be more worried than he already is.

or, you were being selfish. but either way, kento was already making his way into the room, slipping a shirt over his messy hair. you liked when his hair was messy, it was cute. sometimes you preferred cute kento over ‘my shift ends in an hour’ kento.

“ken…” you whisper. “did i wake you up?” he shakes his head, making a beeline for the kitchen to pour himself, and you, a cup of warm coffee. he made sure to do it just the way you liked it. but the truth is, you did wake him up, and he was scared. 

you mean the world to kento, and i mean everything. opening his eyes to see you weren’t there was equivalent to four heart attacks. you were so important, he’d risk his life for you. but he wouldn’t ever tell you it’s your fault.

“you just scared me a little, don’t worry about it, hun.” he said reassuringly, finding a seat next to you in front of the fireplace. you tried to wipe your tears before he could see them, but your eyes always got so annoyingly red, and your cheeks would always be stained with the salty liquid. he noticed anyway.

he places both mugs of coffee to the side, on the bricks, and takes your face in his hands gently. “were you crying?” he asks, so gentle, just like he always was. you shook your head, but he didn’t buy it. “you can talk to me, darling, what’s the matter?”

“i feel bad, ken…” you mutter, leaning helplessly into his hands. “i feel like…i don’t contribute, and you do everything for me, and…and i feel useless.” you tell him, the tears bubbling back in your eyes. so pathetic, so stupid. how did you end up with someone like kento? 

“of course you contribute, y/n, what do you mean?” he furrowed his eyebrows, putting one of his hands on your head and picking up his coffee with the other. he took a slow sip. “you do so much, sometimes i think i don’t deserve you.”

you look away, ashamed. “i don’t do anything, kento, not even a crumb of taxes, i don’t go shopping, you do all of it!” you nearly shout, and he shushes you gently. 

“y/n, it’s okay. i know you don’t have a job, i make a lot of money, i don’t mind, sweetheart. it’s part of our relationship.” you shake your head again, hiding your face in your hands. 

“i feel so gross. its gross, ken. how do i not have a job!” you sob. he had no idea you felt like this. you felt gross? he hated that. he pries your face from your hands and presses his forehead to yours, unruly blonde hair crossing yours, and places a chaste kiss to your nose.

“do you really feel that bad, honey?” you nod. he sighs. “do you want your coffee? we can figure this out. together. i can’t have my baby all upset on me, makes me feel bad.”

you look up at him, nodding slowly.

he smiles at you, so loving, his cheeks making his eyes crinkle, and you just can’t help but smile back, after all, kento always made you feel better. always.

🌲 author's note. gotta love husband kento. nanami is so dad coded oml i wish i had a man like him. anyway, here is day twooooo!! namami fit this theme a lot, i think, especially because i see him as the type of guy that would be great at comforting people <3

[mewtwoandme]

I think we all need to ask some important questions….does Jericho and Sivith pay rent? I mean they are in Lakota’s home eating her food and using her hot water. Do those two got jobs to even pay her? Do they even pay taxes if they have jobs? Does Jericho even know about the IRS? If he did I think he would just blow up the earth if he could.

These are the questions we need to ask, people.

Well, its not like they couldn't get jobs, since in Ryme City, plenty of job positions are available to pokemon, but I think you're forgetting one itty bitty detail...

They're mewtwos

I don't think them going out in public looking for employment would be a good idea or the kind of attention they'd want on themselves. Even online wouldn't be easy, especially for Siv, cause she's not very tech savy. Jericho is, he'd likely be the most successful. However, how long would that last before someone finds out he's going under a false identity and looks into the matter? Even though Jericho is capable and he knows he is, he also knows not to be that risky. Plus, Lakota doesn't expect them to do any of that anyway. After the horrible lives they both had prior? Yeah sure, lets just go push them to go out to work cause they're just freeloading if they don't right?

She gets paid in appliances and furniture getting fixed when broken, chores getting done to lessen her own workload, and Jericho is basically her private tutor for college homework! All this for FREE! She's actually saving more money than spending it having them there. Also, this is the fictional pokemon world, I doubt their economy is as bad as real life, so Lakota most likely doesn't even need to worry about money.

[iavenjqasdf]

❄cubbification🐻

I don’t mind the Cubs. I’m not really a big sports guy, so I don’t know if they’re like, problematic or anything. They kinda just seem like any other baseball kinda team to me? (Please let me know if I’m ever swerving out of my lane by saying something like that, by the way; I’m really trying my hardest to learn and do better.)

But when you're visiting the beautiful city of Chicago, and you're so cold from having just got kicked out of the hostel where all your stuff is, because they don't believe that you ever checked in or were ever supposed to be in there in the first place, and when you start to choke up in frustration they say they’re going to call the cops if you don’t immediately leave the property, so you have no choice but to run out into the cold city night without even a jacket, snow swirling all around, catching the taillights of passing Ubers in a shitty bleary unromantic gray kind of way, and you try to take a hit off your $10 disposable weed pen ($14 after tax) for a bit of warmth, that little disposable oil battery that you were so brave for sneaking through the TSA all the way from Cali (where the weed is cheaper AND it's actually good for you), but the light blinks because its out of juice and you don’t know where you can go to recharge it, and suddenly you realize as you're standing on the curb that a kind stranger has found you and is offering to give you a real taste of Chicago if only you'd get in the back of his big warm car, and hey, the whole reason I came here was because I want that authentic experience, and also to not freeze to death, and who better to make both of my dreams come true than a local, and he's even wearing a Cubs hoodie, you kinda can’t say no, right?

So I climb into the second row of his nice toasty American-made SUV, and he punches Portillo's into the GPS and I buckle up, and suddenly it’s just like I’m a kid again, going out to eat with my parents-

well, just one of them, but that’s accurate to my childhood experience, too.

He asks if I have anywhere to be, if anyone’s expecting me anywhere, and I get a bit whiny when I say nooooo, but he just chuckles and tells me that that's good because he’s gonna show me someplace really cool, and I say that sounds nice.

My legs dangle around as I begin to warm up. I look out the window, and the traffic lights and snow are a cute little screensaver again, instead of a bitter cold reality I can’t shelter myself against.

I reflexively try to take another hit off the weed pen, forgetting that it’s still empty. He tells me not to smoke in his car.

It’s kind of hard to say no to in the moment.

We pull into the Portillo's drive thru, and I squint through the snowy window, unable to read the menu. He says don’t worry, I’ll order for you, so I settle back into my seat, listening to the faint Christmas music playing from inside the restaurant, or maybe from the car ahead of us, but also enjoying the otherwise mostly silence in this one.

A few minutes later, the window hands him three bags, and he hands one back to me as he pulls back onto the road. I gleefully tear into it, there’s a big thing of fries and a sandwich with beef and gravy and several types of peppers (I'm sure there's a term for it, but I'm not a local foodie, so I don't know what it is, sorry), and he hands me a big milkshake too, and I’m so excited and so happy, I have warm food and warm feelings and feel safe and happy again.

The next several minutes are spent laser-focused on ravenously devouring my meal, and it’s only when all the food is gone, all the greasy wrappers and fry boxes and an empty Styrofoam milkshake cup carefully crumpled up and placed back into the bag for easy disposal, that I sit back, rubbing my stuffed overfed belly as I glance out the window again.

All I see is a gray dead snow stretching into the dusk all around, and I realize we’re no longer in the city, or any place I can actually recognize.

I ask where we’re going, and he doesn’t answer. I theorize he just didn’t hear me, and continue not testing that theory.

It’s getting kind of cold again; I realize he's had his window sill cracked this whole time and the heater isn’t on anymore, so all the warmth has slowly leached out of the car into the dark snowy expanse, draining my energy along with it.

I scrounge around, and realize the floor of the car isn’t covered in plush limousine carpet; it's just old clothes strewn around. With the Italian beef aromas now safely contained within me, I realize it smells kinda bad in here actually.

I awkwardly tug at the door handle; not because I want to hurl myself out onto the road or anything, just to see if it would open, for future reference. But it doesn’t. I try taking a hit off the weed pen, but it's still empty.

I think about asking where he’s taking me again, but I realize there really can’t be a good answer to that question at this point.

My stomach grumbles, and I wish I was back somewhere warm and safe again.

---

It’s dark out when I come to again.

(Yeah, so I fell asleep. It was actually my choice to do that. In this weather, 5 miles from civilization might as well be 500, and I'm not asking for another ride even if one comes. I gotta maintain appearances, conserve my strength, wait for the right moment to make my lucky escape back to the civilized world.)

From back here, it’s hard to get a good angle on his face, dimly lit up by the navigation app on his phone that says we’re only a few minutes away from somewhere.

His brow tightens; he must've noticed me waking up. I think I ask him where we’re going again, and maybe he just didn’t hear again, because he definitely doesn’t answer.

He still hasn't closed his window, but he’s now wrapped in a crusty old green and yellow blanket, the one I remember staring at on the floor as I dozed off.

If I’d woken up with really miraculous timing, maybe I could’ve gotten away while he was getting that, but if I had that kind of luck, I probably wouldn’t be locked in a stranger’s car on a dark snowy night to begin with.

The GPS helpfully informs us that we've arrived at our destination.

He pulls off the side of the road onto a dark shoulder, overlooking a sad little ditch; it's only a couple of feet down, but it’s flat enough all around that it'd be enough to hide me from the road for long enough that he’d get away with it.

He kills the lights, and I hear him unbuckling his seatbelt, form silhouetted by a distant streetlight, flurries of white piling up on the glass and all around us as he emerges from his blanket cocoon, tugging his hoodie off.

I unbuckle my seatbelt, too, shivering and whimpering as I scoot back to the third row, but he doesn’t miss a beat, just keeps approaching me in the dark with that silent unknowable menace.

By the time I hear his switchblade click open, I barely even have to react. I knew it'd be coming any second now. I’ve read movies, I’ve seen books.

"Didn't your mommy and daddy ever tell you not to get in a car with a stranger?" he asks. Kind of a shitty joke to make to someone with divorced parents but whatever.

The light behind him crescendos, his blade catching the reflection just so. Horns swell on the soundtrack, the sight of it burns into my wide terrified pupils as he raises it over my cowering form. The dark space is illuminated for just a moment, then for another moment, and then another, getting brighter…

And those horns are starting to sound a lot like a truck’s-

The entire world slams apart around me as an out-of-control 18-wheeler veers off the road into us, ramming through all those feet of steel designed to deform and crush, deflect the impact away from my vulnerable little body. We tumble around in the washingmachinelike sleetstorm of twisted metal and shards of ice and cold glass and ragged shirts and stale fries and a big heavy bleeding body as the disaster skids into the icy dark. As the SUV comes to a rest on its ceiling, I somehow find the strength and coordination to scramble my way through, using a thick piece of cloth that catches underhand to wriggle out through a jagged windowpane, squirming towards the fire illuminating the flurries under the darkest indigo sky, a beacon blazing in the darkness, like the cherry at the end of a cigarette of a trailer, brandishing the BUCK-A-POP'S DOLLARSTYLE MERCHWORLD logo in chic saturated colors, paint peeling off from the heat of the flames roaring all around.

In the numbing cold, I tug the tattered cum-stained Cubs hoodie I'm holding onto my scared shivering body. It smells like menace and onion ring grease, but it provides me with enough warmth that I’m able to stay conscious until the paramedics arrive at the scene and get me to stop sitting cross-legged on the snow, breathing in the toxic merchandise fumes, still trying to hit the dead weed pen clutched tight in my fist.

When they finally pull him out of the wreckage, they find the switchblade lodged in one of his arteries, honey mustard still clinging to his lips.

ao3

[the-s1lly-corner]

A promise (Ragatha, Pomni, Kinger)

got struck with the idea of the reader being made to promise the canon character to not give up/abstract and it got me... feeling things so uhuhuh! yeah

Written on mobile so woooooooo

POMNI:

I think the topic comes up after a hard day of pomni (or perhaps even both of you) trying and failing to find the exit. And its taking its toll, but oddly enough pomni seems to be worried about you too.. maybe shes projecting, or maybe shes trying to convince herself of something. Whatever the case, she asks you to promise her that you'll hold on until you can both escape together. A "yeah" isnt going to suffice, you're going to need to say it out loud and look her in the eye. Shes so wound up you're probably going to have to try to help her calm down; brush your hands through her hair. Rock her, hold her, stay up with her. Pomni.. isnt the most collected and calm, but this is

Different. Honestly this could probably be it's own fic buuut I don't really do fics

RAGATHA:

I don't think she would ever make you promise something like this... under normal circumstances.. I think, if there was a rather rough day in the circus.. an extra draining and taxing in house adventure, another circus member abstracting, whatever it may be its going to take a lot for ragathas optimism to falter enough to ask that you please dont abstract. Oddly enough, I'm not sure if she'd have the strength in her to look you in the eye when she asks you.. that's even assuming she can even make herself face you. Given the mental exhaustion she'd have to feel it's best you give her some space to recover, but also.. keep an eye on her.. lay down with her, you guys dont even have to talk. I think ragatha would try to apologize for making such a request for you, probably after shes pulled herself back together

KINGER:

You abstracting is constantly on his brain. Actually you getting hurt in general is always at the forefront of his mind. I dont know about you guys but I know first hand that those thoughts, that constant worry, will ruin someone. He doesnt even try to be gentle when asking you to keep yourself together for him. He might even blurt it out, maybe even cling onto you. Hes already lost his wife, hes already been through that hurt before. That's also not taking into consideration of him losing friends to abstraction. He might not be able to bare you falling the same way. Rub his back and reassure him that you're not going to be going anywhere. As unfortunate and cruel as it sounds I think his own worries and fears would cause kinger himself to abstract; assuminging insanity also plays a role in abstraction.. I mean how hopeful can you be when you've fully truly lost yourself. I could add more but I dont want kingers piece to be longer than the others <\3

[dcawritings]

Twinkle Twinkle (Little Star)

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Eclipse/GN!Reader

Summary:

In the quiet emptiness of the hallway, it's all too easy to get lost in your own thoughts. You stare down at the collection of items in your hands with only the soft echo of Christmas music coming from the end of the hall leading to the living room — soothing, but distant. It has been playing since you woke up earlier that day and the sound has all but fallen into the background of the afternoon chill. (A story in which you get ready for Christmas with post-ruin Eclipse and slowly realize that you love him.)

Author's Note:

While this may be a little late for a traditional christmas fic, this is for @murasaki-rose from the DCA Secret Santa 2023 event! I hope that you find this as cute and fluffy as I did while writing it -- Eclipse is an absolute sweetheart and I love any excuse to write him being domestic :3c Thank you also to @solar-synapse for all the feedback to help make sure this piece was as polished as I wanted it to be! ;w; Your advice and writing help is invaluable!

In the quiet emptiness of the hallway, it's all too easy to get lost in your own thoughts.

You stare down at the collection of items in your hands with only the soft echo of Christmas music coming from the end of the hall leading to the living room — soothing, but distant. It has been playing since you woke up earlier that day and the sound has all but fallen into the background of the afternoon chill.

In one of your hands are several old shopping bags stuffed with ribbons, tape and various other supplies for wrapping gifts that you've accumulated over the years. In the other is a relatively small bundle of multicolored lights that have seen far better days. The strands are criss-crossed over one another in giant knots of plastic and unlit bulbs. Is it worth it to untangle them...?

Normally, your answer might have been a solid 'no'.

It isn't because you dislike the holidays or the activities related to them (absolutely not!) but simply because you rarely have a need to pull much out. Ever since moving to this apartment on your own, you didn't exactly have much of a reason to decorate for the holidays — less so after leaving the Pizzaplex when bills got heavier on your shoulders and another job offered higher pay. It was an at-home job doing database work, but... you missed seeing other people. With friends and family so far away, it meant a lot to have even a stupid little holiday party with faces you were somewhat familiar with, even if the pizza and copious amounts of Fizzy Faz served were convenient tax write-offs.

The last two Christmases were spent alone, so you never bothered to pull out much more than a small, cheap tree and some ornaments to decorate its scraggly limbs. It wasn't lonely per se, but...

A loud crash pulls you out of your thoughts. Dropping everything in your hands, you run out of the closet and immediately start to think the worst. There are plenty of boxes in the room you'd sent Eclipse to look through, and if he managed to topple them all...

"Are you okay?" you call out, hurrying down the hallway to find where your housemate had been rummaging through the rest of your old decorations. Worry starts to well up in your chest when you don't get an answer. "... Eclipse?"

"Y-Yes yes! I am alright!" a familiar, bright voice all but chirps before stepping around the corner. He looks entirely unfazed, outside of being covered in several long strings of Christmas lights and smiling like an idiot. "There was a lot of stuff to go through in your office — you had lots of boxes stacked up veeery precariously! But don't worry-"Eclipse gestures to the big tub of loosely packed ornaments he holds like a treasure. "-we made sure these didn't hit the ground!"

Relief flickers across your face for a moment before you start to laugh, the sound filling the air around you and echoing within the snug space of the hallway.

"Oh, those are all plastic ornaments," you say, patting one of Eclipse's arms. "It will take more than a little fall to break them. I think I keep the good ornaments in my bedroom closet."

Eclipse peers down at the container in his arms, then tilts his head curiously. It isn't hard for the animatronic to look endearing, but the fact that he is entirely covered in tangled lights is only making it worse. You reach out and gently try to remove the strands caught between his rays.

"I assume you found all..." you gesture at his entire body and the lights dangling over his face. "All this in there too?"

"Yup!" he nods, smile never fading. "The lights were on top of the box in a big big bundle and... well, it fell down, but we saved these since we thought they were important..."

His expression droops for a moment, but you gently pat the side of Eclipse's faceplate. His eyes lift and meet with yours and, for a breath, you feel your heart begin to race. It takes several seconds before you realize that your fingertips are lingering against the cool metal. You pull them away abruptly, heat spreading across your cheeks.

"That... was very considerate of you," you say with a smile, words honest and praying that he wasn't paying too much attention to the fact that you couldn't quite meet his glowing gaze. "I haven't actually pulled these out in a few years. I... I think they'd look really nice on the tree, if you want to help with that."

The animatronic instantly beams with joy and sprints to the living room before you even have a moment to try and untangle the lights from his body.

Christmas Eve comes and goes with very little fanfare, a lovely and peaceful evening spent in the company of someone you cherish. A friend — and nothing different, though your mind often wandered back to the moment of brief intimacy shared in the hallway; the way your eyes met with his like a spark of electricity, and your heart felt all too tight in your chest.

Just friends. Companions of fate so tightly bound together that you still wonder what possessed you all those months ago to climb through the crumbling skeleton of the old Pizzaplex.

Was it guilt? Curiosity? You'll never quite know the answer, since whatever compelled you was quickly overwhelmed by the shock of seeing the daycare attendant still functioning. Mostly functioning.

You and Eclipse spend the evening together in the living room, gazing at the tree and reminiscing about inconsequential memories of the old Pizzaplex and daycare alike. It was unknown for a while after taking him home if Eclipse could even access Sun and Moon's memory; he explained early on that he himself was something of a backup subsystem, almost like booting up a computer in a safety mode to diagnose errors and issues plaguing it otherwise.

It had been awkward for a month or so, but the two of you grew close rather quickly — especially once time allowed memories and personality quirks to seep into Eclipse's own sense of self: Moon's soft but mischievous nature, Sun's near-overwhelming need to be helpful. It shouldn't have been surprising how they fit so well together, but you still often found yourself wondering about how it all worked inside of the animatronic's mind.

You take a slow, careful sip of the hot drink in your hands. It's sweet, the aroma filling the air as you raise it up to your lips and let its flavor settle over your tongue. It's a nice contrast to the stark chill outside your apartment, making its heat feel all the more comforting as you stare at the tree.

"I think we did a good job!" you finally say, tilting your head just slightly to the side. "And the ornaments are only a liiiitle crooked."

"Are they?" Eclipse asks, tone sounding almost worried as he brings a hand up to the lower half of his faceplate. "We can adjust them again if you think-"

"Eclipse no, no I don't-" you laugh, managing to reach an arm out to keep the bot from moving off the couch beside you without choking on your drink. "It was just a joke. Promise. Besides, it's nicer if things aren't perfect."

He looks at you, silent for a few moments, then slowly leans back into the couch again. That's Sun for you, eager as always to jump and fix a problem...

The lights twinkle in multicolored splendor across the deep green of the fake tree, accented by bits and bobs of ornaments you had collected over the years — many of them were hand-made, either gifted by friends or given to you by the children of the daycare back when you managed that part of the facility. While time has blurred the memories, there are still a couple you can remember clearly, though that might be due to the fact that the ornaments are labeled with the kids' names in various colors of marker, paint and glitter glue.

"Pretty..."

Eclipse's soft whisper catches your attention and makes you giggle. "Yeah," you nod in agreement, turning and looking towards him. "The lights are really-"

Oh. He'd been looking at you.

Both of your gazes lock together for a moment before the bot averts his eyes quickly, the entire exchange only taking a moment or two but feeling almost like an eternity as heat rises up into your cheeks for a second time that day.

"I uh." You try to collect your thoughts, then nod towards the tree. "I think you did a good job on getting those lights untangled! I would have just tossed them out."

Eclipse hums, gaze trailing towards the tree. "Thank you," he says. "It wasn't too hard to do! Just takes time to unravel everything properly."

You feel impressed for a few moments before remembering that Eclipse — Sun and Moon, to be specific — are likely programmed with enough patience to tolerate such a herculean feat. When compared to dealing with a horde of small children on a daily basis, untangling a few sets of Christmas lights is nothing more than child's play (pun certainly not intended).

You sip your drink silently, trying not to think about how gently he had looked at you.

The evening is peaceful and sweet.

"Merry Christmas!"

Eclipse's voice is a bright ray of warmth amidst the frigid backdrop of winter.

You almost don't see him as you step into the room, bleary eyes blinking away the last drops of sleep; you might have slept a few hours longer if Eclipse hadn’t sent you a flurry of text messages begging you to wake up.

The bot looks at you from the other side of the couch, rays twitching with excitement. He leans forward on his knees as if eagerly waiting for your reply.

"Merry Christmas to you too, buddy," you murmur with a smile. After a moment, you narrow your gaze and raise a brow. "Have you been... sitting there all night?"

"Not all night," he corrects, glowing eyes glancing off to the side. "We needed to spend an hour or so in the kitchen to charge, but... well, we were just too excited! We want to open open open the presents under the tree!"

He shifts more onto the couch, making your face crane upwards to keep his gaze. It's easy to forget how tall Eclipse is when he's almost constantly hunching over or sitting on the floor beside you. He's simply excited, so the looming shadow overhead is hardly frightening even as he claps his hands together with a loud metallic thunk.

"And we want to watch you open your present too!"

The gesture brings a smile to your still-tired lips. Glancing behind him at the multicolored shapes sitting innocently beneath the belighted tree, you have to wonder, what in the world could he have gotten for you? It's not as if Eclipse has the ability to leave the house to purchase a gift, and you haven’t noticed him working on anything recently...

Curiosity wins out in the end, though you wouldn’t be able to deny the over-enthusiastic animatronic such a simple joy for long, especially not with that adorable, pleading look on his faceplate.

After all, had the animatronics of the Pizzaplex ever truly been able to celebrate the holidays? Outside of trying to sell something, of course — the Fazbear Corporation wasn't one to let a chance at profit slip away from them so easily — you don't recall there ever being a lot of opportunities for Sun or Moon to get into the spirit of things themselves. 

Sure, there were special crafts for the kids and a change in the decorations strewn about the facility, but… In a way, this really is Eclipse's first ever Christmas.

"Let me get something warm to drink," you finally say, smile never dropping from your lips at the thought. "And then we can open presents, m’kay?"

The bot's excited shouts echo into the kitchen as you step through the archway separating the rooms. It doesn't take very long to prepare something hot to sip on, yet by the time you return to the living room, Eclipse is already sitting beside the tree and staring intently at the wrapped gifts beneath it.

"They're not going anywhere," you tease as you step around him and sit down on the couch. The cushions sink pleasantly beneath your weight, soft and warm, and it's only then that you realize just how cold the air feels; you’ll have to get up in a bit to make sure your heater isn't acting up again. "You'll survive waiting just a little bit longer, you dork."

It's hard not to feel amused by the way Eclipse looks at you, annoyed and restless, so much like a child told to be patient. He's all but leaning against the side of the tree, waiting for the first syllable of permission to grab the golden-wrapped box nearest where he's sitting.

"We've been waiting for exactly ten hours and thirty-seven minutes!" he says pointedly. "And technically you are the one who's late to opening the gifts. I had to wake you up!"

You lift an eyebrow as you sip the hot liquid. "... And what happened to 'not being up all night'?"

Eclipse makes a low, scoffing noise but otherwise doesn't offer an answer. He simply turns his attention back towards the presents and stares at them again, so hard that it's almost like he’s trying to see through the obstructive layers to the gift within.

There's a soft whisper in the back of your head idly musing to itself — how long can Eclipse be patient? You have half a mind to find out, perhaps even making him wait until you’ve finished your drink and gone to check the thermostat, but... No, you're not quite that cruel.

"Alright then," you giggle, setting the mug down and climbing off the couch to sit cross-legged on the floor beside him. "Pick out a gift to open up." Beneath the fake green branches are a variety of boxes decorated in several different kinds of wrapping paper, so you take a moment to direct Eclipse's excitement by pointing them out. "Yours are wrapped in the sparkly gold paper, Sun's is the yellow polka-dot, and Moon's is the dark blue with the little stars."

You'd almost feel a little silly in wrapping their gifts up individually if you didn't already know how much Eclipse appreciated the distinction. Sun and Moon's individual processors and coding are still in self-repair mode, but you like the idea that they could still enjoy the holiday through Eclipse's eyes when they finally ‘wake’ back up.

"Can I... can I open them all?" Eclipse asks, picking up one of the blue boxes and giving it a gentle, experimental shake.

You nod, feeling more and more embarrassed as the words fall from your tongue. "Yeah! I figured that as long as they could like, see through your eyes when you opened the presents that it would... I dunno, I hope I didn't misunderstand when you said you could recall each other's memories..."

"Oh! No, you didn't misunderstand!" Eclipse sets the gift down and reaches out a hand to touch your cheek. The gesture is meant to be reassuring — he tends to use physical touch a lot when comforting someone — but his cool silicone fingertips feel like ice against your searing hot skin. "We just want to make sure we're following correct traditional expectations. On the internet, it said that it's rude to open presents for other people on Christmas."

You blink. Though you feel almost endeared by how sweet and polite he is, a detail sticks out in Eclipse's words that gives you a moment of pause.

"The internet?"

Eclipse's expression freezes. He pulls his hand back after a moment, looking decidedly more sheepish than before as his eyes flick back and forth to little parts of the living room that certainly aren’t as interesting as he makes them seem.

"Eclipse," you say gently. "Since when did you have access to the internet when I’m not around?"

After recovering him from the broken facility, you took every precaution to keep the animatronic safe — and that included the possibility of him getting a virus from a direct connection to your home's internet. Sure, you have a great anti-virus, a strong firewall and VPN since your job requires it, but you aren’t sure what kind of security programs Eclipse himself has onboard his processors.

Though there is a good chance that Fazco outfitted all of their animatronics with something to keep their software safe, you can't take any chances. You know of only one old programmer that had worked on Sun and Moon before the fire. His contact number is safely tucked away on your phone, but you don't want to know how much he'd charge to repair Eclipse if the bot stumbles into the dark corners of the web. 

It’s why you prefer to let him use your phone or tablet to amuse himself when you can keep an eye on him. More often than not, Eclipse was entertained by pet videos and video game playthroughs, so it never occurred to you that he’d try to connect himself directly if he had no need to do so.

You must be staring at him pretty hard while everything parses through your brain, because after a few seconds Eclipse starts to tilt his faceplate this way and that, his body language growing jittery in the same way that Sun’s does when he's nervous. Wringing his hands together. Unsure where to let his eyes fall. Anxious.

"We didn't connect directly to the internet, for the record!" the bot finally exclaims. "No broken rules whatsoever! We just..." he pauses, then quickly grabs a box wrapped in red and white-striped paper. You know it's one you didn’t wrap even before seeing the little tag taped in the corner with your name on it.

Though a part of your mind would like to continue questioning his little internet secret, curiosity has been gnawing at everything since he mentioned there was a gift for you. Even if it was little more than a kid's art project, the gesture alone makes you feel almost giddy. He went out of his way to make sure you had something under the tree, even though you had told him many times over that it didn't matter — you have the financial stability to get yourself something nice every now and again, and it was more important that he had something to look forward to. That he got a really nice Christmas experience. For all that Eclipse has been through over the last several months (perhaps even years) it's the least that he deserves right now.

So to be genuinely surprised by a gift is... really nice. It makes something twist up gently in the center of your chest that you can't quite identify.

"Alright, alright," you giggle, shifting so that you can set the box down over your crossed legs and start tearing the thin paper away in long strips. Unsurprisingly, a simple cardboard box lies beneath, easily opened with a few careful tugs at the folded flaps.

Initially, all you can see within is a small mountain of bubble wrap. It takes a few seconds to pull most of it out, but eventually you reveal a shiny metallic form hidden within one last layer of bubble wrap carefully packed around it.

Pulling the item out and unrolling the protective layers, you realize that it's a music box sitting in your palms. It's relatively small — barely larger than a fist — and it looks familiar.

There used to be a gift shop at the Pizzaplex, and this one almost resembles the little music boxes sold there, but not exactly. Those were minuscule things, cheap to produce and capable of playing a thin, tinny version of various jingles heard around the facility, one of them being the Superstar Daycare theme, but… you had really wanted one of them. Silly, yeah, but you often caught yourself thinking ‘I’ll buy one with the next paycheck’ whenever you passed by the shop, and then coming across another bill that needed to be paid first.

This one mimics the overall design of a jack-in-the-box, with a bent handle jutting out of one side and a flat top that looks like it might open up if you start to wind it. A few tiny marks of imperfection speak to it being handmade; the metal is bent a little too much on the edges, and there are places where the paint hasn’t been applied smoothly. It's colored red on one side and a deep navy blue on the other with little stars speckled across the entire thing, though it's the carefully embossed shapes of a sun and crescent moon that catch your attention most.

"It's... beautiful, Eclipse. I love it."

Your words are little more than a soft whisper, stilted despite your attempts to hide the emotions plaguing them. There's something so personable about the gift that you can't quite put a finger on, and it weighs pleasantly heavy in your hands and heart alike.

Movement in the corner of your eye pulls your attention away from the item in your hands. Eclipse has shifted quite a bit closer to you, so much that when you look up, you find his faceplate barely more than a few inches away from your face. He reaches down, one palm cupping around the back of your hands to stabilize the music box while his other hand slowly winds it up. All the while, your thoughts linger over how gentle and large his hands are, practically engulfing yours against his flat palm.

The sweet sound of the daycare jingle fills the air with gentle, dulcet tones.

"We made this," he says so quietly that you might have missed the words if he wasn't so close to you. "It took a long time. You said you liked being in the daycare, that you wanted one of the music boxes so... we thought you'd like to have your own."

There are layers of meaning in those words; nostalgia for a time when things were less lonely, bitterness for the fact you'll never be able to experience it again, and an overwhelming sense of heaviness that you can't begin to decipher properly. What... is this feeling? It makes your chest ache and your eyes start to water, wet heat building up behind your sight until you realize that everything has started to go blurry.

That heat bubbles up until it's too much, then starts to roll down your cheeks in heavy droplets. 

Ah. That's what's happening now, huh?

"Eclipse..."

You truly don't mean for your lip to quiver when you say his name. Nor do you mean to look so pathetic when his gaze meets yours — just a few inches of space between you both. Close enough to see the way his mechanical irises twitch and focus.

The bot suddenly freezes in place at the sound of your voice, entire body going stiff as ice for a silent heartbeat before his words start to run into one another.

"O-Oh my— We're— we're so sorry, sorry we didn't mean to make you cry oh goodness no we're so sorry starlight we didn't realize-" He fumbles his hands around yours as if to take the offensive item away, but you wrap your fingers so tightly around the metal shape with firm denial that it almost hurts.

"N-no!" It's hard to sound convincing when tears are actively dripping down your cheeks. "It's okay. I promise. I'm just- It's a really, really sweet gift. I wasn't expecting it to... hah, I'm just a bit more emotional about it than I thought I'd be."

A bit more emotional is a severe understatement, but it's hard to pinpoint why something so simple makes you feel as though your heart is about to burst right from your chest. It takes a moment, holding tight to your assurance and the music box both before Eclipse's body loosens up.

"It's... it's good?"

You nod. "Yeah! It's such a thoughtful gift, you... obviously put a lot of work into it." More work than you thought he'd be able to do, given the fact that you didn't have any metalworking tools available in the house. Or paint. Actually... "How in the world were you able to even make this?"

Eclipse is silent for a moment, still for just a breath before his fingertips begin rubbing idle circles into the back of your hands. He looks sheepish and fidgety again, but this time, you genuinely want to know what he's trying to keep secret and aren’t afraid to push the question.

"Eclipse..."

"So, you know when you take trips into town to do your errands?" he offers after a moment. 

You nod. Even while working from home, you still need to get groceries and take care of the random tasks that come up every now and again. "Well, we... We found out that the library down the road has a little workshop. A-and the people who work there are really, really nice!"

Oh. 

Oh god.

"You left the house?"

Eclipse immediately lifts his hands and waves them apologetically. "W-We didn't go far! Not far at all, just a few minutes walk away! W-we even made sure it was okay, emailed the librarian and asked if we were allowed to use the workshop!"

You groan. Eclipse is half-right on where your worry lay with him leaving the safety of your house, but he doesn’t seem to grasp the fact that he is a seven-odd-foot tall animatronic with no ability to pass as human. Granted, Fazco was all but driven out of town after the fire decimated the old facility, but you can’t risk someone identifying Eclipse and trying to claim him as company property.

The music box is still playing, though the tune has slowed down slightly. Maybe it's the soft sounds, maybe it's the heat in your chest — maybe it's the way Eclipse is looking at you with such wide, sad eyes that it's hard to stay mad — but you feel your anger yield to weary amusement.

"So you actually snuck away every time I went to get groceries?"

"Not every time," Eclipse denies. "Just... here and there since you mentioned wanting a music box." His words and expression grow warm, and for a moment you can almost swear that his faceplate is radiating heat. "Everyone there was really nice to me. Promise! When we told them what we were trying to do, they even showed me how to use the equipment and gave us materials to use since we said we, uh, didn't have any money."

"Well," you sigh, "I'll have to thank them sometime." And make sure nobody is going to report this to the police, or worse, a company lawyer.

As the tune of the music box winds down, finally going silent halfway through its melody, you come to realize that Eclipse hasn't moved. He's still hovering, faceplate so close that you can see all the little movements of his lips, as if there's something else he wants to say.

In fact, he's close enough that you can...

It all happens faster than your brain can process. Your body leans forward, face tilting up, lips parted ever so slightly. Eclipse's mouth is made of the same soft silicon covering his fingers and hands, made to be flexible and resilient so that he could be expressive and friendly-looking. You once wondered what those lips might feel like against yours, but nothing in the world could have prepared you when you close the inches of empty space between your faces.

Soft. They feel so... soft. And warm too, since you were absolutely right about Eclipse's faceplate heating up. Though you desperately want it to be anything but, the kiss is quick and awkward. It's only when he moves against you that reason and logic catch up with instinct and impulse.

You pull back suddenly, eyes wide and cheeks hot as fire while your brain desperately tries to come up with a worthwhile reply. Broken noises are all that falls from your lips however, bits and pieces of his name intermixed with something vaguely sounding like an apology.

Fear clutches your heart as it starts to race. You begin to push away, hoping that space might help you process your swirling thoughts, but Eclipse swiftly wraps an arm around your waist, preventing your escape.

"No," he says, plucking the music box from your hands and gently setting it down beside the two of you. Though his words could be considered shy or bashful, Eclipse's tone is firm and low. "Do that... do that again?"

You can say no.

You can tell him to let you go, and there's not a doubt in your mind that he would do so instantly. But... there's a part of you that doesn't want him to, a part that's been worming through your mind and in your chest ever since the first night he'd been with you — his hands on your back and his voice in your ear, soothing you through one of the most terrifying nightmares you'd ever had in your life.

Instead of saying anything at all, you simply lean forward and press your lips to his again.

This time it's less awkward, one moment blurring into the next as he learns how to reciprocate the motion and allow his mouth to meld against your own. The kiss is a little wetter than you expect, but that's only until you realize that there's a tongue gently pressing at the seam of your lips. You part them instinctively and allow Eclipse to taste you, one hand still on the small of your back as the other reaches up to cradle the back of your head.

It's so hot, so soft, so... so nice, actually. Your own hands are grasping at the loose shirt he wears, some old hand-me-down piece that fits him better than it ever did yourself. The fabric crumples in your fists and helps to anchor you while emotions swirl around like a storm.

And then, slowly, it's done. Eclipse pulls his faceplate back and looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, their glow so bright that it's as if you're looking into the sun itself, but they dim quickly, blinking as the two of you let the moment catch up with your bodies.

There's a quiet emptiness in the living room, the air still around you and Eclipse both. It settles for a few seconds, then fills with warmth that seems to emanate deep within your chest and lifts the corners of your lips into a shy smile.

"... Merry Christmas?" you finally offer, hoping the words could break the silence — and they do, leaving everything feeling cozy and comfortable as you allow Eclipse to hold your body up. He simply giggles, a smile mirrored on his expression as he looks down at you like you are the most precious thing in the world.

"Merry Christmas," he murmurs, then kisses you again.

[kwritingbooks]

Strange Flower

you go on one of your regular walks. the air is cold. the leaves rumble against the wind. and a strange flower catches your attention against all the dead leaves that lie around it. sometimes curiosity can mean taking unknown risks, sure, but that’s even more evident when said flower sprays spores in your face and brings you to a whole other world you didn’t know was possible… {prompt inspired by @waterloou)

tags: sci-fy, fluff, mystical

word count: 3.2k

my masterlist here

Forty degrees didn’t seem as bad when it was written out across your phone’s weather app, while you were still safely wrapped in your comforter about thirty minutes ago. Yet, that opinion drastically changed after spending more than 5 minutes outside in its actuality. You wore a jacket of course, but the wind that cut against the tiniest cracks of exposed skin felt unbearable. It was as if the wind was purposely looking for shortcuts between the fabric’s stitching in order to send a shiver down your already chilled spine.

I knew I should’ve gotten an actual, useful coat. You thought to yourself. Windbreakers can only do so much when the wind feels like actual shards of glass cutting through me.

You oddly felt comfort in it though. Probably because you were deep in the woods, meaning no matter what angle you turned, the vastness of trees was all that accompanied you. The branches only had a few leaves that were still holding on to what they once were: a stream of reds, oranges, and yellows when the air wasn’t so brutal.

Now it was all just brown and withered.

You hummed under your breath from the irony of it all. Even leaves didn’t catch a break from the seasons of life. The wind got to them too it seemed.

You wanted to forever live in the springtime air, but not just any springtime air. The kind that lived in your dreams and would visit you when you were a kid. You would wake up the next morning, almost at a loss of words of what you had seen when you were dead to the world. Not a worry was in your dream-world mind. All that mattered were the little fairies that would sweep you off your feet as you floated above them, giggling waves of laughter like you were a little kid again.

That always beat the loneliness you felt during your waking hours.

Time never mattered in your dreams. Nothing did. Not taxes or your health. Not even the money that was crumbled in your jacket pocket that you had found between the couch cushions. It didn’t even matter that you were actually excited to find a spare three dollars to be added to your name.

But there was always an abrupt end to it all—waking up.

However, it was nice to be in reality every now and then. That way you could feel every leaf that crunched underneath your shoe or you could smell the pine from the trees every time a gust of wind would blow through. It was the balance you needed in a life that sometimes felt so distant from reality.

As you continued deep in thought about the birds chirping in the background with the mix of a stream of water flowing in between the chatter, you found yourself leaning against a fallen log. Its rough bark tugged on your shirt, nearly scratching at your skin as it exposed itself from the lifted fabric. You fixed it quickly, not allowing the breeze to take any more warmth out of you than it already had.

You could only imagine how cold the water was in the stream across from you. Little splashes sounded as it continued its fast pace, like a running faucet in the wild. If only you could be a little fish, letting it take you along the path like a lazy river during a brutally hot summer.

You closed your eyes, envisioning it yourself. Scales flickered against the surface of your skin in your mind, gills opening up on your side, with fins to replace your shivering hands now. You laughed quietly to yourself, shaking your head from the weird thought.

Your laughing stopped when you noticed a beautiful magenta color poking out in the middle of a barren circle of dead grass only a few feet ahead of you on the other side of the stream. Your head crooked ever so slightly, confused how it seemed to be so full of life while everything around it was the opposite.

How had you missed something like that? It was so vibrant and it stood so sturdy against the dirt and dead leaves around it. It looked like everything around it knew it needed its own spotlight and did everything in its power to not let its colors dwindle. Everything fell so perfectly around it.

It was beautiful. You had to get a closer look.

With one foot in front of the other, you leapt over the bustling water. On any other day, you would’ve been concerned about being able to jump over it without falling. Though, this time, it all seemed so automatic. It was like your feet carried you to the bright pink flower as if you were starving to be near it.

You knelt down beside it, examining its petals. It was even more beautiful up close. You had never seen anything like it either. Not only was it magenta, but it was also iridescent somehow. Although the sun wasn’t completely out, it still found the light well enough to reflect off of it in a way that was enchanting.

It was the most nonuniform thing you had ever seen grown before. Its petals ranged from thick to thin strands that elongated high above itself. You weren’t sure how it remained strong enough to stand so tall by itself, but you weren’t about to question it either.

Your fingertip brushed against the feathered, Earthy material and you swore you saw a spark emit from its chambers. Your hand flew back to your chest, defensively cupping it with your other hand. It was like your eyes were betraying you, betraying your reality that you thought you had such a grip on.

It was like it was gleaming back at you. The petals curled into itself like a Venus flytrap and your eyebrows furrowed in confused amazement. You couldn’t help but peer closer as you watched this mysterious phenomenon happen before your eyes.

Poof.

A mist of powder exploded from the blooming flower, completely encompassing your face. You could feel the particles seep into your lungs with the breath of shock you had taken. A wild cough erupted from deep within your throat, knocking you from your seated position and directly onto the cold ground.

Your head ached as the world that was once so calming began to spin beneath you. Though, the spinning quickly began to fade.

But so did your consciousness.

Until everything was black.

And so so still.

…

…

…

“Are you awake yet?” You faintly heard in a muffled rumble. “Hello?”

Your eyes peeked open, a blurry spectrum of objects flying around you. Your hands fiercely rubbed circles against your eyes, hoping to steady things long enough to sit upright again.

“Hello?” You heard once more, resulting in a grumpy rumble coming from you. You were still so dazed and confused about what happened that the last thing you needed was some voice to respond to.

Where even were you? What even happened? All you remembered was a stream…then some flower…and then… you couldn’t remember.

With your eyes still squeezed close, you managed to somehow raise yourself up onto your elbows. You weren’t sure if you felt like you could vomit or if you would fall right back over at any moment.

Or both.

“Are you okay?”

Your eyelids raised open like a stubborn, jammed door.

Even in the swirl of dizziness, it all soon snapped back to normal when you realized what was all around you.

Or the lack of.

Was this a dream?

You were small. But not small as in comparison to a UFC fighter, but small in an ant-like small way. Maybe even smaller. The trees towered over you like they had never towered over you before. Even the blades of grass appeared like trees—or trees that you were used to. The stream now sounded like a deafening waterfall, now seemingly miles away rather than the few feet it once was.

“What the hell?” You whispered out in astonishment, gaping wildly at the scene before you. If you weren’t so confused and terrified at once, you might have found it soothing. Maybe this really was another one of your dreams.

But it felt so real…

“Hi!” That same voice from before rang out, startling you immediately. You were so awestruck by everything else that you forgot there was a voice that had been trying to get your attention this whole time.

Your eyes flashed quickly to the source.

Your mouth cracked open, ready to say something, but your vocal chords failed. The connections in your brain seemed to shatter just as you darted your gaze over to this person’s presence.

You didn’t recognize him, but it felt like you did. In a distant way. Or dazed and confused way. You weren’t totally sure yet.

“What’s going on?” You sputtered out nervously, looking in all directions around you. The rocks underneath your fingertips felt rough and scratchy, as if they were boulders you could now sleep on rather than the ones you usually threw across lakes with ease.

“No need to worry, I promise. It’ll all make sense in a bit.” His eyes sparkled, but not in a metaphorical way. They literally sparkled against the sunlight. They looked deep within you but granted you comfort you had only ever experienced in your dreams.

A dream!

You placed a hand to your forehead in dismay. Obviously this was a dream! There was no other explanation.

You pinched against the palm of your hand, a relieving smile portraying across your face. Any moment now you would wake up and be in the comfort of your bed. It was probably time to wake up for work anyway. Hopefully you hadn’t overslept…

“It’s not a dream by the way,” he replied curtly as he gestured towards the continuous pinching into your hand.

You looked down, not realizing how evident it was. Your skin swelled a soft red, irritated by the pressure. You rubbed it against your shaky legs.

“Then what’s going on?” You stood up straight, hoping it would make you feel taller in the situation but it seemed to do the opposite. He had to be right. This all felt too real. Uncomfortably real. There was no way your dreams could perfectly encapsulate the feeling of dew against your skin in this way or the sun beaming down on the top of your head. Even the towering blades of grass didn’t prevent those very real sensations.

This was real.

“Come with me!” He cheerfully exploded, standing himself up in one quick motion. He seemed to float away, causing you to quicken your unsteady pace behind him.

He glanced briefly behind him to make sure you were still behind, resulting in a small chuckle escaping his lips.

“Like I said, it’ll make sense. It’ll come back to you.” His voice was slightly muffled due to the distance he was ahead and the running stream that still raced behind the both of you.

“It’ll come back to me?” You asked in bewilderment. You had never wished for something to be a dream as much as you had in this moment. It kept getting increasingly confusing by the moment. Each word he said made your brain spin that much more.

“We’re almost there, c’mon!” He rushed out along with his steps.

You could feel exhaustion bubbling inside of you, but you couldn’t help but ignore it. While you were confused as all hell, you were intrigued nonetheless.

You almost lost sight of him until you realized he had turned a corner. Your eyes searched amongst the debris, and then you saw he had stopped moving. He stood facing you now, surrounded by a circle of brightly colored mushrooms. It looked like the kind your mom had warned you about being around when you were a kid. You felt your heart pick up faster somehow.

Your pace slowed, taking cautious steps closer to this mysterious guy. A shadow had overcasted his body now due to the head of the mushroom creating a roof over him. A baby snail was the same size as you as you took a step over it. You could feel your courage muster back up.

“Tell me what’s going on!” You shouted frantically.

A look of slight hurt crossed against his features and you physically recoiled at the sight.

“Look, I’m sorry. I…I’m just��,” you paused to find the right words, “the last thing I remember I was in the woods. I was normal, okay? This isn’t normal. This has to be a dream, right? A really realistic dream? Lucid dream, that’s what they’re called. That’s all this is, right?”

He stood there quietly, his hands folded in front of him. He looked like he wanted to burst with excitement but was now confused on how he should react.

You were growing impatient, but before you could open your mouth for further retaliation, he motioned his hand for you to come closer.

You huffed out an exasperated breath, stubbornly walking ahead. You couldn’t fight hard against the nerves that had yet to completely dissipate. He was the only one who had the answers, or at least that was what you figured. He was the only one around at all.

You were now only about a foot away from one another. He continued his period of excited silence as his eyes ventured from your face to his hand pressing firmly against the spotted mushroom stem beside you two.

Your eyes stared intently at his hand. Was something supposed to happen? Everything seemed intact and just as it was moments ago. Was he just taking the piss? Playing on your confusion and enjoying seeing it happen?

“Go on,” he nodded towards the thick stem. “It’s okay.” His voice was soothing. It felt like music notes that danced around your body. Maybe that was why you didn’t hesitate to follow.

Your hand swiftly floated like it had a mind of its own. Slowly, your fingertips brushed against the dewy surface.

“What’s supposed to hap—“

Your words were cut off just as quickly as your head was flown back. Everything felt fuzzy, like you were vibrating. Yet, the feeling felt so familiar. You wondered if this was what happened when you spotted that flower.

But now it felt like an actual dream. Yet, you were witnessing the dream as if it was a movie. It was a montage of moments that you had no recollection of. Yet, you were watching it all yourself. It wasn’t just you, though. It was you and the guy you had just been questioning.

There were flashes of moments in meadows of flowers the size of trees, inside buildings made of leaves and sticks, in puddles the size of lakes, and flying on the backs of various animals jumping from trees. In each one, sat directly by your side, was that familiar man.

Did he put these memories in your head? Were these even memories? How could something be a memory if you have no recollection of it, yet are witnessing it happen right in front of you?

“What?” You shot out in the darkness around you. Ahead of you, the unfamiliar montage continued, but to your right, left, and behind you was pitch black. Empty.

“Hello?” You repeated out. You much rather preferred the woods you were stranded in before. You at least recognized it. You knew it like the back of your hand, only you weren’t the size of a flea when you had visited it every other time.

“I thought you’d never come back,” a voice behind you echoed.

You whipped around, searching for that face you had just seen by your side in each recalled memory.

“What do you mean?” You asked out loud to what seemed like nothing considering you still hadn’t spotted where the sound originated from.

“Y/N.”

It was soft, but the syllables of your name resonated deep somewhere in you. You had heard that voice say your name countless times. You couldn’t pinpoint how or why, but it was there. His voice seemed to be apart of you. He was familiar. But why? How?

“Harry?” You blurted out. You didn’t know why. It felt like it had been forced out of your vocal box. It was like an instinctive reaction.

He stepped closer, exposing himself in a small amount of light. It was the same face you had seen minutes before, but a different feeling escaped this time. He looked familiar because he was familiar.

He was your Harry.

This wasn’t a dream.

“Welcome back home, Y/N. I’ve missed you.” He smiled so wide his dimples created craters in his cheeks. Memories of jokes about the vastness of his expressions rang back to the forefront of your mind.

You paused your thoughts.

“Wait, but which life is real then? This feels real, but so did before.” Your voice was soft. You weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer, but you needed to know. You had friends and family before. That had to have been real. You had a whole life. What about them?

“It’s all real. It’s just one of the many realities we have access to,” he reassured with another step closer. “Most of us only have the one. This is my only reality. But they’re all just as important as every other one we have.” His hand brushed against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine.

“How did I come back then? How would I go back to the other one?” Your fingertips brushed across his hand that continued to caress against your skin.

“I sent you the flower. That’s why you felt drawn to it. It was meant to be found. Found by you.” He released his hand from you, allowing it to rest back at his side. “You switch back and forth when you’re supposed to—when the world feels you’re ready and need it. Although you can switch back if you truly wish, but there’s always a reason you feel the need to come back. So I hope you listen to what the world is trying to tell you.”

You bit at your lip, looking closely at the expression on his face. His eyes kept that same sparkle as before even with the lack of light to reflect off of.

You looked behind you at the collision of memories cycling over and over again.

You had never seen yourself look so happy. Each one that passed felt closer and closer. It started to feel like you were in each moment first hand. You had never felt like that before in your other reality. Maybe this was where you were supposed to be afterall.

Maybe you weren’t meant to be there forever, but you were meant to be there now.

So that was what you were going to do.

You turned back around to face him, colliding your body into his. The smell of him entrapped you completely, his grip tightening against you as you sunk right back into him.

His lips pressed tightly to your forehead as you closed your eyes, and he tugged you once more into his chest.

“I’ll be with you as long as you allow me to be here with you. In this world, it is all that matters. You are my only reality, Y/N.”