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#mini-fic
linksthoughtbrambles · 6 months
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Her Voice in Far-off Water
A totk fic for Linktober 2023 Day 10 Prompt: Zelda. 800 words. Bittersweet.
Link didn’t slide down the well-ladder this time.
The last time he had, Zelda’d scolded him.
“I come here to concentrate, Link.  As precious as you are to me, it’s difficult to do so when you’re about.”
“I’m about anyway!”
“Yes, but I cannot interact with you while alone belowground.”
He made a lopsided grimace, fists on his hips.  “Here I was thinking you needed time away from high pitched little-kid voices.”
“That, too.”
“You know they don’t leave when you disappear, right?  They climb on me and catch frogs in the pond instead.”
“Yes,” she said with a millimeter of smirk.
“Maybe I should have Bolson dig me a man-cave.”
“Perhaps you should!”
“We could both disappear at the same time.”
“Indeed!”
“Mine wouldn’t be as nice.”
“It might be if we locate a suitable location with respect to the water-table.”
“What would I do in there?”
“That is entirely your business,” she said with growing laughter.
“What?”
“Perhaps you could practice remaining still.”
“I can stay still!”
“Link, you cannot even crouch for a few minutes without fidgeting.”
“I can if I need to.  It’s just uncomfortable.”
“What about standing without rolling your shoulders or flexing your muscles?”  She poked his bicep. Then she wiggled her finger.
“PFF-“ he caught her hand and pulled her in at the waist. “I can do it if I need to.”
“Hmm.  Hmhmhm.”
He tickled her ribs.
“AAH!”
He heard her laugh echo in the soft, unbroken whoosh of some far-off, subterranean brook, carried through the surface of the clear well-water.
His lower lip curved up—just for a moment.
His boots scuffed their way to her desk.  She’d left her journal open, a frog-shaped paperweight on one corner.
“Go on.  Taste it!”
He shook his head.  The top pages felt the tiniest bit warped from moisture.  He moved to close it, not at all expecting the words he caught; he couldn’t help but read them.  She’d hidden a gift for him in the castle’s ruined throne-room.  She’d meant to take him… after they studied the gloom.
She’d probably have said she meant to find places to display the champions’ weapons—places of honor for them.  He’d have gone along with that.  The constant reminder had been too much in their home, but it didn’t feel right to ignore them, either.
He shut the book and his eyes at the same time, overcome with an exhaustion he had no name for.  He dropped into the wooden chair and rested his arms on the desk, crossed—then his head on those.
He stayed a long time.
The circle of sunlight had strayed from the well’s floor to a crescent of gold just below the entrance’s rim when he roused.  Laughter and a splash issued from somewhere above him.
Catching frogs.
He stretched his sore neck and back with a deep breath, eyeing the drawings she’d pinned to the right.  He had a huffed laugh in him somehow. 
Aster’d included Zelda’s clips, bright blue like his hairband.
He missed his hairband.
He shook his head, scrubbed his face, stood and resolved to sleep in a less awkward position that night.  As he turned to go, he caught sight of her storage chest.
He really shouldn’t leave her journal out.  She shouldn’t have either, but small things slipped sometimes with so much on her mind.
He picked the book up and flipped the chest open-
-and there it was, right on top: his hairband.  The old one.
He swapped it for the book without a glimmer of thought.
It had faded to a blue-gray.  It didn’t complement his eyes, and it would no longer match his champion’s tunic or Zelda’s clips.
He put it on anyway, just like he used to.
“You do this on purpose,” she’d said.
“What?”
“Your messy bangs and long locks to frame your face.”
“Locks?” he said, each of his laughs heightening in pitch.
“Yes!”
“No one says locks anymore, Princess.”
“You’ve deflected.”
“Nah.”
“You could easily pull all your hair back.  It’s long enough.”
“Eh.”
“Doesn’t it get in your way during battle?”
“Nope.”
“May I see it the other way?”
Link shrugged.  “Sure.”
She styled it for him, smoothing his hair as he kept his breathing slow and even.
“You look handsome.”
“Thanks.  Do you… like it this way better?”
She considered him, her hand beneath her chin, her index finger pushing at her upper lip.  “Hmm.” Her head listed sideways.  “I think I prefer your usual style.”
He snorted and took the band out.
“Only because it looks more like you,” she said softly.
“I’m me no matter what my hair looks like.”
“Of course—though you act in a considerably different fashion with your hair entirely down.”
“That’s because of what we’re doing when you take it out.”
“I know,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
He shut the chest with a quiet tap and rose from crouching.  He hadn’t fidgeted at all.
He left with a promise to return the memento with her.
With Zelda.
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theimperials1 · 5 months
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Hand Holding
She had dared not think about it on depth, she had let it go as it happened for the first time; she thought it was some sort of normal reaction from a scared worker that didn't wanted to get killed, so she let it pass, no harm no foul, and yet...
It was haunting, but not on the sense of the memories from the manor nor on the sense of the laughs from that thing that kept rousing her out of sleep on the worst nights. It brought a sense of peace to her bellicose being, and it was helping in a way of soothing most furious emotions.
The throttle of those feelings, whose beginnings had been laid so innocently during an expedition, was as soft as a feather and as precious as gold for her. She stared at her hand, thinking; she didn't realize how much she had liked the Uzi's hold the first time.
It was now something she missed, and had been looking for it to happen again. A dark and scary place on which N would be not around so Uzi would end up holding her hand.
It was a kind of odd feeling, and yet it felt nice, perhaps too much, she remembered each single moment, how the first minutes were perhpas the most uncomfortable both of them had experienced, how it was an alien feeling, their hands holding each other.
Until it became natural, as Uzi was somewhat too nervous after they had entered the place, she kept declaring in that lousy and angsty way she had that it didn't mean a thing, that she was only holding her hand so she could be evacuated easily shall any sort of weird solver-monster appear...
The whole exploration went without a problem, and even as they were heading for the exit (they didn't found anything), Uzi didn't let go until they both were outside the place. She cleaned her hand against her Jacket, of course as some sort of offense, but V didn't took any.
She couldn't and she didn't allow herself to, she wanted to experience that again, the caring hold of Uzi's hand had become something she craved, and she had not been that subtle showing it off.
She had lessened the teasing, and everything that could make Uzi go away, instead, her gestures towards her had turned into small gifts, kind smiles and compliments, much to her counterpart's dismay, as the blushing on her screen grew and grew each single time she took the extra mile to give her a cup of warm oil, or those times on which she cheered her up when her feelings were down.
V had grown to treasure her, to see her as something far more than just a 'purple thing' or the like, she was for her something far beyond a worker drone, and her hate and grudges over her transformation had just shattered into dust.
Hate was something she perhaps would never bring herself to use again with Uzi, it was something kind of difficult for someone as her, made as a killing machine, love for battle ingrained in the smallest section of code.
And yet, as she laid down on her bed, reflecting, she could feel her own heartbeat, something she despised not so long ago, growing faster, as images of Uzi came to her head.
For once, she wasn't all that angry at the blight hidden inside her chest, turning to the side on the bed, she let out a happy sigh as she let those sweet daydreams roam free. More hand-holding, more sweet and rays of light for her dark life.
She was going to take Uzi on a date as soon as she could. This was too much. She knew it was getting to her properly as a smile appeared on her face.
+
Help me buy a new AC: Ko-Fi
Check out my Other Works: Ao3
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harveyb-wabbit92 · 6 months
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[Lost in time au]
Kaiser! Belial: there are two kinds of workers in my army—
R/n: Oh no, lemme guess... Casualties and survivors?
Belial. leans in close to her cage: Would you like to join the ranks casualty, little worm?
R/n, snorts: You won't kill me, Belly... Or rather you can't. Deep down you can't bare the thought of ruling over your so-called empire with no one to show off it to ...Or maybe, it's just being alone in general that really scares you.
Belial, jaw starts to quiver:
{Belial lets out a low growl and closes the shutters on R/n's cage the former ultra took a sharp breath as he walked out of his throne room and paused as he walked passed a mirror and felt a chill go through him when he saw his former self staring back at him powerless and pathetic; mocking him... Belial's fist clenched as his mind replayed R/n's words.
Belial was drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of shattering and a dull pain in his hand. He blinked and saw that he had punched the mirror out. Belial let out bitter chuckle at how pathetic he was acting and took few seconds to collect himself before turning to one of his servants.]
Belial: Clean that up.
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anandabrat · 5 months
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Trick or treat! :D
"Uh..." Pete squinted. "Lucy and Ethel."
"Pete, come on. Do these look like 1950s outfits?"
"Uh. No? OK. Oh! That old-timey lady who shot her horse and had a house and an oil mine and -"
"You're thinking of Anne Lister and Ann Walker. And no, not even close."
"Xena and Gabrielle."
"I told you nobody was going to get it, Helena!"
"I hardly think Pete qualifies as *everyone,* darling."
"OK but wait, who are you guys?"
"Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West. Who else?"
"...right. Obviously."
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curatoroffiction · 9 months
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Touch-Starved Azul Fluff: Part 2
Part 1 -----   "Hey Azul.." You yawn and come up beside him, resting your head against his shoulder, hugging him from behind. The octopus finds himself flustered as your touch calms nerves he didn't even realize were flustered. ".. Hello, ___. Not sleeping well?" "Nah, Crowley's been riding my ass about some problem happening in the bowels of the school. It's all bullshit down there." You gripe, nuzzling into the back of his neck, slowly worming your face into the crook of his neck, looking over his shoulder. "What're you up to?" Your hands warmly wrap around his waist, tugging him in close.
His face warms up as he finds himself flustered by how close you are. How nice it feels. How he realizes how badly he missed your company because of how nice it felt to be touched by you. ".. Would you like to rest in my office in the Mostro Lounge?" "Nah, your couches are uncomfy as hell." "I've never quite had someone compare my establishment to unending torture before." "Really?" You grin against him. "With your reputation with students, I'm surprised." He scoffs and shrugs you off, flustered at how wonderful your grin felt against him. He knows you're messing with him. He turns to face you but he sees the circles forming under your eyes from how tired you are. He reaches out without thinking and gently touches your face, concerned for your health. "Oh look what that horrible headmage has done to you.." You've been so touchy-feely with him, he didn't even think a second thought about it until he feels the warmth rising in your cheeks under his touch, and the way you stare at him star-struck from the contact. The look in your eye is so strange and new that he panics and pulls away, stammering; "A-ah.. Please just take better care of yourself." "You should take care of me." He's bewildered as you say this, looking at you in confusion. "???" "That felt nice. Hold me Azul! Nurse me back to health!" You drape yourself onto him again, this time laughing as he short-circuits and gets flustered and tries to push you away. He gripes but it's no use. You've got him in your arms, and he can't hide how nice it feels to have you draped around him. He rubs the bridge of his nose, his shoulders sinking as he sighs. He tries to recompose himself, but he can't make eye-contact with you. You're such a strange friend compared to the people he's met so far. But, he thinks he likes it.
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Jove Justice was a man of many secrets. It was part of his whole persona. Being the sexy and mysterious foreign musician, wooing both the king and the queen of Khura'in and becoming their dear companion in such a short time.
The topic of Jove's son was one that Dhurke and Amara learned not to dig deeply into. Once, Amara asked about the child's mother, only to be met with coldness from Jove. "She didn't want to help raise our son, so I took him with me overseas" was all he would say on the subject. Dhurke never dared bring it up.
The night before the fire, Dhurke finally convinced Jove to join him and Amara in bed. The next night, Dhurke grieved alone. Amara grieved in secret. Apollo cried, missing his father for the first night in his short little life.
It was hard not to be mad at Apollo for surviving what his father didn't, but Dhurke managed to move past that with help from his son. Nahyuta was a good brother to Apollo, and watching them grow up together helped Dhurke feel like Jove was living on through Apollo. He probably won't ever have anyone channel Jove. He wouldn't know what to say. He wouldn't know how to apologize for everything that happened after the fire. He doesn't want to face Jove, not without seeing Apollo again.
The night he died, a spirit medium channeled him, and held his spirit for three days. Dhurke would never see Jove channeled, but at least he'd see Apollo.
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alverrann · 5 months
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Happy Miami Vice Day, folks! It's 2:15am where I'm at and so we're gonna start off strong with some good old-fashioned h/c.
I hope y'all enjoy it, cuz this is only the beginning, lol
---
“Tubbs!” Sonny’s shout alerted him only seconds before he felt the sting. It was a burning punch to the gut, and on pure instinct he shoved Harley away, stumbling backwards as the man came at him again. He tripped and fell, hitting his head on the way down and hurting his wrists as he caught himself.
There was a gunshot, and Harley fell, a scream echoing in the background with more gunfire. Years of experience had Tubbs dragging himself behind the garbage bin - likely where he'd hit his head - ducking down and hissing at the pain in his abdomen. He put a hand on it, and it came away bloody - he’d been stabbed.
The sounds of shooting had ended at some point, and Tubbs looked up when he realized that Sonny was calling his name. "Put your hand over it, Tubbs." Sonny's face was a pale ghost, flickering like a candle flame, and Tubbs looked down at the blood covering his hands. "C'mon, pal. Put your hand over it; put pressure on it." Pressure? Tubbs put his hand back over the sting, pressing down hesitantly. He hissed when the pain became worse, but Sonny spoke before he could do anything more. "That's it, just like that. Don't take your hand off."
The sting and the pain had both been so sudden, and it almost felt like he was seeing double; his vision was tunneling as a voice from farther down the alley called Harley's name. Some part of Tubbs was very annoyed, because this was one of his favorite shirts and suits, and here he was lying in a trash-strewn alleyway, bleeding all over it. A hysterical part of his mind was happy to remember that Sonny wasn’t wearing white today, at least …
Where was Sonny?
The report of a gun had Tubbs jerking back, huddling into the side of the dumpster that he was using for cover as he looked towards the source. It was his partner, of course, tucked neatly into a small alcove with his gun in hand.
Oh right. They were under attack. Harley was lying in the alleyway between them, blood pooling under his unmoving form, knife still in hand. Sonny must have shot him after he'd stabbed Tubbs, and the thought had him refocusing on his partner.
Sonny’s eyes – when he wasn’t peeking around his corner – were on Tubbs, and belatedly Rico realized that his gun was on the ground a few feet to his right. His mind felt like molasses, but he knew that if he could get it and give his partner covering fire, then they could get Ricket as well. Ricket, who had stopped yelling and shooting, for the moment.
Tubbs moved slowly, his right hand lifting from the sting in his abdomen to stretch towards his gun, grunting at the pain it caused. “Rico, keep your hand on it, buddy. Don’t worry about anything else – just keep the pressure on it.” Sonny's rough voice was pleading, and Tubbs reluctantly replaced his hand, instantly relieving the strain.
“You come out, cop, an’ I’ll blow you away!” Ricket began to shout again as Rico pushed down on the stinging pain. Sonny needed his help. But he was cold, and the sting was starting to throb.
“Your friend is dead, Ricket! It’s just you and us, and we ain’t lettin’ you go anywhere, man!” Sonny’s voice cracked a little as he shouted, and Tubbs stared down at his stomach. His right hand was over the top of the wound, but if he switched and put pressure with his left hand, then he could pick up his gun with the other one. With slow and deliberate movements, he began to do just that. “Tubbs, quit movin’!” Sonny’s hissed words were all but drowned out by Ricket's furious and desperate response.
“I know Harley got one of you pigs! You wanna go help ‘im, then let me go!”
Tubbs pushed down with his left hand, noticing that the blood seemed warmer, and the pain was getting worse. He slowly picked up his gun with his right hand, and Sonny yelled back,
“If my partner dies then you’ll be in a lot more trouble, pal!” He looked furious, his face still swimming in Tubbs' view. Tubbs kept his left hand on his abdomen as he slowly pushed his legs underneath him, forcing himself into a crouch despite the burst of pain that ensued. It brought him slightly out of his stupor, and he met Crockett’s glare with one of his own. Sonny’s mouth was opening, no doubt to tell him how stupid he was being, but Tubbs refused to hear it. He popped up from his crouch in a blaze of agony, shooting towards the other end of the alley blindly for a moment before going back down just as quickly. Ricket was spraying bullets in Tubbs' direction, and Sonny took the opportunity to peek out and take a couple of shots.
The alley fell silent.
Tubbs collapsed back down against the garbage can, almost choking as he struggled to breathe through the agony that seemed to envelop his stomach. A pattering of feet, and Sonny was there, his hand covering Tubbs’ and pushing down much, much harder than Tubbs had been. Tubbs gasped at the pain, and Sonny pulled him away from the garbage, leaning Tubbs back against his chest while removing his jacket. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” His harsh voice and words belied the gentleness with which he tucked the thin fabric around Tubbs, whose chuckle became a dry cough.
“Didn’t … see the knife.”
“Just hang tight, Rico. Ambulance is already on the way.” Sonny’s voice softened a little, and Tubbs realized that he was extremely tired.
“R- Ricket?”
“Dead.” Sonny didn’t sound nearly as apologetic as he might have, and for some reason it was funny to Tubbs. As soon as he laughed, however, he stopped with a groan.
“Harley too?”
“Yeah.” There was a long moment of silence, and then Sonny said, “You’re not fallin’ asleep on me now, are ya?”
“Shouldn’t’ve … made me so comfortable.” He breathed out, and Sonny was the one to laugh as sirens sounded in the distance, a short sound.
“Next time I’ll just leave ya lyin’ there, then.”
“Thanks.” Rico meant it.
“Anytime, pal.”
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hiiii idk if you’re taking requests, and feel free to ignore me lol, but i’ve been thinking abt Try Your Best (That's All We Can Do) a lot recently. and like reading it is so perfect and i love it. i was wondering if you were going to add to the story at all. ik it is wrapped up nicely, but i kinda wanna know what happens to them (make sure roman can avoid being murdered and heal), but yeah! thanks for all you write!
I really, really like how I ended that fic, so I don’t think I’m going to do another full chapter, but I’ll do a mini-fic epilogue just for you :)
Roman eventually shares with Virgil and Remus—and Janus, by default, because god knows his two lil gremlins don’t want to keep secrets from their dad if they don’t have to—that he’s been going to a therapist since a few months after Jamie committed suicide. He ascribes a lot of his personal growth to talking things through with them, even though they’re determined to get him to accept some credit on his own.
(Remus may or may not hit Roman in the face with a pillow for the same reasons and the two of them may or may not get into the habit of pillow-fighting whenever they see each other. It’s unclear whether or not this is actually a good thing.)
(It is, don’t worry.)
Roman actually plans to meet up with Virgil for a date right after one of his appointments, and Janus drops him off outside the building. While there, the therapist asks Janus if he’s Roman’s father. He isn’t, and says as much, but he starts to worry about how Roman’s managing to afford this if his therapist can’t even recognize his parents. He confronts Roman about it and Roman says that the school’s guidance counselor actually recommended and they worked out something with insurance that his parents never had to personally approve.
There’s another indecent at school where Janus is called in because Remus got into a fight. When he gets there, he sees Roman sitting outside the principal’s office, holding something to his head again, and Remus glowering at the wall. For a terrible second, he has memories of the same thing happening in middle school, only this time Remus has his arm around Roman’s shoulders and Virgil comes running up a second later.
Jamie’s friend had attacked Roman again, and Remus had tried to stop them. Roman had shoved Remus behind him and been rewarded with a textbook across his temple. The administration had found the three boys like that: one bleeding, still holding back another, the third crying and screaming on the floor.
Roman’s parents never make an appearance.
Janus offers to drive Roman home—and maybe not-so secretly give them a piece of his mind—but Roman pales and makes up something about how that would just leave his car in the school parking lot overnight and he’d have to figure out a way to get to school tomorrow. Janus lets it go, mostly so the poor thing doesn’t freak out even more, but he’s oddly quiet for the rest of the night.
He also turns into a total cuddle monster for the rest of the week, but that’s not that big of a surprise.
No, the surprise comes when Virgil gets a call during one of their weekend afternoons and finds out that Roman has to cancel their date tomorrow because he’s in the hospital.
The call doesn’t even end before Janus is barking at both of them to get in the car.
They’re almost not allowed in, because only family is permitted, but then the orderlies reveal that Roman’s actual family hasn’t showed up at all, didn’t answer the emergency call, and Janus just about shoves his way past them to let Virgil run into Roman’s room. The room is filled with machines and loud beeping and a scared child in an oversized hospital bed, and all Janus can think about is the little boy in his father’s suit, all alone in a graveyard.
The doctor comes in. All three of them completely fail to be subtle at eavesdropping as she tells Roman that his attacker has been taken into custody, and that it’s a good thing his family came so quickly.
Virgil barely stifles a gasp, Remus’s eyes go wide, and Janus’s just watches the most heartbreaking confusion cross Roman’s face until he realizes that the doctor is referring to them.
“…yeah,” Roman mumbles, not meeting any of their eyes, “I guess I am.”
The doctor turns to Janus. “Did they tell you what happened?”
“No, not yet.”
“Your son was hit by a car. Luckily it wasn’t going very fast and his injuries aren’t too severe, but he’ll need to rest and heal. Is there somewhere you can—“
“Can you give us a moment, please?”
The doctor looks at Roman, surprised, then back at Janus. Janus just raises his eyebrow—“He’s the patient, it’s not up to me.”—and the doctor leaves.
“If you say anything about being sorry for being an inconvenience or her assuming we’re your family,” Remus says before Roman can say anything, “I’m gonna hit you with a pillow.”
“Remus,” Janus warns.
Roman winces, holding a hand to his side. “Don’t make me laugh, my ribs are cracked.”
“Good thing Re’s not funny, then.”
“Boys.”
Roman does, in fact, try and apologize for everything, but Janus stops him with a hand on his uninjured shoulder.
“You’re hurting,” he says softly, referring to far more than just the car accident, “let us help you, please.”
When the doctor comes back, the first thing they do is change Roman’s emergency contact to Janus.
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sealie-seolh · 1 year
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Baba’s Habibi
Nicky let out a sigh of relief as the lift pinged and the doors opened. He normally used the stairs to the third floor. So tired, and guilty that he had ‘given in’ and used the lift.
“H-hello,” Nicky said automatically, seeing a baby in a bright yellow onesie alone in the corridor.
Or sturdy toddler, Nicky figured, but what did he know? Pot-bellied, rosy-bronzed cheeks with a head of ringlet curls, the baby was standing next to the straggly Philodendron under the skylight.  Nicky knew Yáo Su’s twins. Ms. Gibbons didn’t have kids or grandkids that visited. Niall and Lucas emphatically told everyone that they didn’t want kids.
The little boy was alone.
“Grrrr.” A plastic stegosaurus forged through the Philodendron mulch.
Nicky crouched, balancing the weight of his heavy backpack. Cute kid. He had enormous bright, brown eyes. The shiny drool on his chin was a little off putting. 
“I think that that might be one of Mei’s dinosaurs.” Nicky recognised it; he had given her a box of educationally appropriate, plastic dinosaurs for her birthday.  
The stegosaurus started climbing up the main stem.
“Have you just moved into 301?” Nicky asked. He didn’t expect an answer—little baby—but it was the obvious inference.
He got a gummy smile and a delightfully sticky stegosaurus in reply.
“Shall we check?” Nicky pocketed the toy for Mei and offered his hand to the toddler.
“Bah.” The toddler gripped his finger.
Half-bent over, Nicky toddled them the short distance to 301. Finger firmly captured, he couldn’t reach the bell, and had to rap on the door.
“Habibi, where are you hiding?” came from inside the flat.
“Is that your name? Habibi?” Nicky asked, and knocked a little harder.
Habibi babbled something vaguely intelligible, “Baba’s Habibi.”
The door was wrenched open.
“Tariq!” Dad dropped to his knees. His hands flexed ready to snatch, but he didn’t; trying not to scare his baby. His similarly brown eyes were immense, and startlingly half-filled with tears.
“Baba!” Habibi released Nicky’s finger and fell into his dad’s arms.
“How did you get outside?” Baba ended up on his ass. Baby cuddled close, curly heads knocking together. “Thank you. Thank you.”
“Cat flap,” Nicky explained in the face of that encompassing fear.
“What?”
“Mr. Skłodowska’s cat. A Maine Coon. Ozzie. Ozymandias, the King--” still half-crouched, Nicolò tapped the cat flap in the door, “--likes to explore.”
“What the F—” Baba pressed the bottom half of the door and hissed as the entire plate rocked open. “I‘ll be nailing that shut.”
The flat behind Baba and Habibi was filled with half-empty boxes and the chaos of a new move.
“I have tools,” Nicky offered, because who knew where Baba’s toolkit might be in the mess. The cat flap that Ozymandias had habitually used to visit everyone on the third floor was big enough for Habibi to walk through.
“Please,” Baba beseeched, wide eyed.  
“Let me get my tools.” Off balanced with the weight of his schoolbooks, Nicky stood.
Nicky’s flat was directly opposite. He dumped his backpack just inside his door, and considered the task. It would probably be sensible to root through Maisie’s, the landlady, storeroom for offcuts of wood. He contemplated the sofa, and knew if he sat he wouldn’t get up. But Baba had looked infinitely more tired and frazzled, and that cat flap was an accident waiting to happen.
Ten minutes later, he was back with a rectangle of plywood that he judged was slightly larger than the giant cat’s not-so-secret door. He knocked.
“Come in,” Baba hollered.
Nicky tried the door handle and the door opened. There was no appreciable change in the mess. But Habibi was in the corner in a playpen, with plush toys and some sort of bright, colourful plastic thing that pinged and played unfamiliar rhymes.
Kneeling, Nicky set to work. He wasn’t a professional woodworker by any means, but he could use a hammer and nails to make the door safe.
“Thank you,” Baba said, as Nicky finished.
“Not the prettiest, but it will stop Habibi escaping.” Nicky smiled up at Baba.
“Habibi? You mean Tariq? Habibi is ‘beloved.’ My little love. My son.” Baba, Nicky thought, had a lovely smile.
“Ah,” Nicky realised. “So you are not Baba?”
Baba snorted. “Uhm… no. Well, I am to Tariq – his dad. But my name is Yusuf. Or Joe.”
“Which do you prefer?”
“I go by either. Yusuf to family. Joe otherwise.”
“Nicolò,” Nicky said. “To family. But mostly Nicky.”
“Uhm.” Yusuf-Joe scratched at the back of his neck. “Uhm… I was going to order a take-away from the Thai place on the corner. Would you like to join us? Well, I have a yummy sweet potato and cauliflower cheese thing for Tariq. But I prefer something more tasty. A thank you for helping.”
“Ah,” Nicky began and saw Joe’s face fall. He hurried to explain, “If you want tasty, I do not recommend that place.”
“That bad?” Joe pulled a face.
Nicky nodded soberly. And surprised himself, “Why not come to mine?”
“We couldn’t--”
“I have vegetarian lasagne—I batch cooked last night. I have no wish to eat lasagne every night this week. It would be good to share. And--” Nicky smiled, “--you can meet Ozymandias.”
“The giant cat?” Joe pointed at the large piece of plywood. “I thought he was Mr. SWw—s?”
“Mr. Skłodowska went into—How do you say it in English?—Residential Care. And they do not allow pets. I take Ozymandias at weekends.” Nicky couldn’t resist saying, “On a lead.”
“Are you sure? I mean, is he going to try an eat Tariq?” Joe eyed the flap again.
“He prefers fish,” Nicky said, deadpan.
Joe snorted again.
He has a nice snort, Nicky thought and inwardly kicked himself.
Joe looked around the chaos of his new home, and clearly juggled the thought of meeting a giant cat, home cooked food, and, more than likely, taking a break.
“We’d like that.”  
“Good.” Nicky gathered up his tools. “Twenty minutes?”
“Perfect.” Joe looked left and right through the bedlam. “I’ll find Tariq’s dinner. It’s in one of these boxes.”
Nicky left him to it.
Ozymandias yowled at Nicky when he returned home, annoyed that he had only stopped a moment before.
“Got new friends coming. Please do not eat the baby.” Nicky tossed his toolkit in the cupboard under the stairs. “I told his Baba you prefer fish.”
As Nicky opened the fridge, Ozymandias curled around his calves, coating him with white and ginger tinted hairs, trying to trip him. He gave Ozzie his wet food, as otherwise he would continue trying to trip him, before transferring two extra-large servings of lasagne into a dish to warm through in the oven with a baguette stuffed with garlic butter.  
Nicky did a quick turn around the first floor of his flat and found no surprises. Ozzie had only been alone for a couple of hours. He hadn’t really been alone long enough to get bored and destroy anything but he was still missing Mr. Skłodowska. Nicky didn’t need to do much tidying, other than grabbing some folded laundry on the back of the sofa, followed by clearing the kitchen table of mail-and-miscellanea and giving it a quick wipe.  
He turned around taking in the open plan of kitchen, dining nook, living room, trying to figure if it was toddler-proof and came up a blank. The exercise bike in front of the television, maybe? Wine in the wine rack? He couldn’t move it, though. Ozymandias on the windowsill didn’t offer any guidance.
Tap. Tap.
“It’s open,” Nicky yelled.
Joe entered, Tariq on his hip. He had a plastic bag in his other hand, which probably held the baby’s food.
Ozymandias yowled a question.
“Lion, Baba. Lion,” Tariq said clearly.
“That is one big, fluffy cat.” Joe stared. He shot Nicky a concerned glance, because Ozzie was indeed a large cat. “Majestic, though.”
Ozymandias, sitting in the late evening sunlight, turning the ginger tips of creamy fur to molten gold accepted the fealty as it was his due.
“Are you sure—” Joe checked.
“No babies,” Nicky reassured.
“Can you? I need to,” Baba, no Joe, didn’t explain and leaned towards Nicky.
Momentarily confused, it took Nicky a moment to realise that Joe was handing him Tariq. It wasn’t until the baby reached that Nicky figured out what was happening.
“Hey, Habibi,” Nicky said, covering terror. Tariq was a chunky ball of unpredictability. What if he wriggled too much? What if Nicky dropped him? Tariq stared at him dead on.
Joe snorted. The snort.
“I’ll be right back.” He dumped the plastic bag and loped out the front door.
“Where’s he going?” Nicky chanced a nervous smile. Tariq laughed in his face. “I understand. Or maybe I don’t. I’m doomed. You’re adorable. Why?”
Joe had put the bag on the table. Chancing a one-handed grip for a second, Nicky up-ended it, and then got a two-handed secure hold back on Tariq. The sweet potato and cauliflower cheese microwavable pot rolled across the table.
“That does not look appetising,” Nicky told the baby. “And I do not have a microwave.”
“Din-dins,” Tariq offered, and smacked his lips.
“No microwave,” Joe sounded kind of horrified, as he toted a high chair into the flat. “I’m pretty sure it can be heated in a pan, it’s just cauliflower cheese and mashed potatoes.”
It sounded and looked disgusting.
“Tariq,” Nicky leaned back to properly look at the toddler, who met his gaze dead on, “are you six months old? One?”
“Nineteen months.” Joe smiled, and Nicky knew he was laughing in the nicest way at the fact that Nicky knew nothing about babies. “He likes the gloop, and I thought that it was easier, with moving, and all.”
Nicky was pretty sure he couldn’t serve such a concoction, and suspected it would stink the flat out.
“The lasagne is homemade,” Nicky said. “Aubergine, grated carrot and spinach. Is that okay for babies?”
“Spices? Salt?”
“A pinch of salt. It’s not a spicy sauce.” Nicky clarified, “There’s no chilli or paprika. Garlic? It has garlic and basil. It’s a fresh lasagne from the flats’ garden, out back. We have a kind of allotment. Cost-of-living-crisis and all. Started it during COVID lockdowns.”
“Do you fancy trying Nicky’s lasagne?” Joe asked.
“Lasssna,” Tariq agreed.
Joe shrugged. “We can give it ago. Fall back on the gloop, if he hates it.”
As Joe got Tariq situated in his highchair, Nicky pulled together a quick salad, and then plated out the two portions into three, using Tariq’s ingenious bamboo bowl.
“What would you like to drink?” Nicky asked over his shoulder. “I have milk, water, and wine… Orange juice.”
Joe, setting the garlic bread in the centre of the table, grinned at Nicky. Tariq was ready for food, spoon gripped in his pudgy fist. They looked like they belonged.
“Water for Tariq. I like juice,” Joe said. “Can I?”
“In the fridge. I’ll have water, thanks.”
They moved around each other like they had prepared meals a million times. Joe ferried the drinks and bowl of salad to the table. As Nicky put Joe and Tariq’s plates down, Joe darted to the counter to grab Nicky’s plate, and return.
“It smells amazing.” Eagerly, Joe sat and grabbed his fork, looking very much like his son.
They were waiting for him to sit, Nicky realised. He dropped into his seat with a thump.
Oh, this was the first day of the rest of his life.
Fin
Or the beginning
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darkobsessions1989 · 1 year
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Another moodboard I've created for @engagemachine 's breathtaking work, Burn. I've also written a little mini-fic based on an anon prompt given to Engagemachine about Mr. J having a dirty dream about Taylor. NSFW & slight trigger warnings for mention of somnophilia. Enjoy!
He wakes on his back with Taylor curled tightly into his side, the dregs of a reprehensibly vivid dream still clinging to the edges of his mind. He blinks up at at ceiling for a few seconds, narrowing his eyes.
He's rock hard.
He doesn't often dream, he barely even sleeps. So the experience was... unusual, to say the least. Feeling compelled, he turns his head and tips his chin down to look at her. Her cheek is all squished against the corner of his chest, lips parted and eyelids fluttering in her sleep. His gaze creeps down to stare at her mouth, and he's momentarily distracted by the thought of how she might react if he just leaned in and sunk his teeth into the meat of her lower lip.
Christ, he thinks, she's invading everything. He can't get a moment's peace. Can't even manage a few simple winks of shut eye without dreaming of folding her in half so he can pound her six ways from Sunday.
Not that he really minds. Peace is overrated. Sure, sometimes he does sometimes get a little itchy with the impatience of the wait. Especially when it comes to her. But he's got big plans, pretty pink fish to fry, so to speak. He shifts and reaches out to skim his fingertips along her jaw, thumb down feather light over her bottom lip as he thinks.
She's almost ready for him. Well flayed and almost fully marinated. Just a little longer, and she'll dive right into the pan herself.
Fixating on her mouth, he applies a little pressure to her bottom lip, flips it out. She doesn't even stir, keeps right on sleeping. He likes that about her, what a heavy sleeper she is. What an oddity that is, given everything she's been through. Sometimes, he wonders if he could fuck her like that. If he could just roll her onto her side and take his time, slow and easy. He thinks about how he'd shush and murmur softly whenever she stirred, try to soothe and lull her back to sleep.
The train of thought does nothing to calm the tent in his pants, but he's too caught up to care. Transfixed, he tracks a line of drool as it trickles out along the side of his thumb and droops off his knuckle to pool and darken in a little spot on his shirt.
He licks his lips and tightens his arm around her waist.
Soon.
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eagle-warri · 1 year
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December 22nd
All of the Hermits have a chunk of season 8’s moon. Those who escaped it by the grip of the void saw the debris fall down with them. Those who dug their way out trekked through the rubble when they emerged. Those who flew away were trailed by the silver rocks. Those who jumped through portals were followed to other worlds by a dusty companion. And those who were crushed had the moon become a part of them, until they pried out the fragments. Each of them chose to keep it, remember what could have been, the memories they could have made had the season not been cut short, and remember the times they had in the short time there. Pranks, companies, and mega-bases, though no full-scale wars, surprisingly.
They all have a piece of the Rift too, those from Empires and Hermitcraft alike. Those who found it early have a shard of the glass it was first made from. The more adventurous kinds took a bottle and filled it with the glowing purple fluid of the Rift proper. Others chiseled a piece of the black from around the Rift as it closed, set the dark stone aside. There were memories here too, both good and bad. Reunions of old friends, old soulmates, and old enemies, but still no wars. An interaction that might never happen again, between two groups who would always know of the other, for better or worse.
December 22nd. A day that would linger in everyone’s minds as the end of eras. But the end of one era opens the door to the beginning of another. And so they went off, with everyone's mind a bit more open than before.
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library-graffiti · 1 year
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Saw this on Mastodon:
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At first I was thinking about how Optimus Prime could get a human pregnant.
But then I realized Bumblebee got Optimus' wife pregnant and Optimus Prime is freaking out because he knows it's not his. He had a vasectomy.
So this is what it comes to, Tumblr. You have broken me down completely and rebuilt me in your image.
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theimperials1 · 2 months
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Afterparty.
She walked past the storage room when she heard the crying. Tessa didn't knew what exactly to expect, in fact, she even felt somewhat scared for suddenly hear such a sound coming from a room on which not even the drones got in, yet, her curiosity, one of the many qualities alongside robotics, got the best of her.
She went through the threshold, pushing just slightly open the door to gain access, she kept hearing the crying, and as she entered the room, she started to recognize tiny bits of the incoherent mumbling that composed the cries. She then realized it, she had not seen Cyn a while after the party had begun, and now that it had concluded, she thought she had probably gone to the servant quarters...what was she doing here? Had her parents...?
"C-c-crying." One of her announced actions simply made the human rush a bit, careful to not scare her with the sudden presence Tessa had on the room, Cyn's voice was glitching badly, and she could hear how she sobbing "Cc-c-r-iyingggggg-" She heard an small static as her voice went on repeat for a few seconds before she stopped and the sobbing resumed.
The human only rushed as a result of that. Tessa moved through the boxes and other objects around the room in an almost blind state due to the lack of illumination. She reached the drone faster than she thought for her weeping was echoing through the place. Cyn was sitting over a box near one of the few windows, the little light of her visor, and the occasional flashes of lightning coming from outside being what gave certainty of her location.
"Cyn...?" The human leaned into one of the cloth-covered old furniture as she gained the strength to disrupt her cries "What are ya doing here?"
Oh, how could have Cyn begged for her to leave, she expected that as soon as she made her presence known, yet, instead, the weeping became slightly less as she, tilting her head oddly and turning towards her, offered a face that was showing a lot of distress, if her shaking frame was anything to go by.
"I...whispering" Cyn's hands went to her own knees, gripping them hard "Hmm...uncomfortable-sad-" The voice-box of the drone was failing at even pronouncing her own emotions "F-f-frown..."
It didn't at that, yet, that frown made in company of oil tears that were flowing through her cheeks, alongside some sniffles.
"Cyn..." Tessa's face went from simple worry and curiosity to absolute concern as she approached the drone sitting on the box, it was wide and firm enough so she took the seat right beside her, albeit, of course, sitting a few centimeters far from her, not wanting to trigger her nerves further "What's wrong?" She asked, on the same tone of voice she used always to calm down any of her mechanic friends, almost a whisper, yet kind and firm enough for it to be a question.
"Deeping Frown. P-p-arty-" Cyn kept a steady attention at Tessa's movements as she sat beside her, her shaking frame and glitching voice uttered that a she grew only slightly more nervous from the so-close presence."Sa--s-ssad face. C-c-rinying-. Didn't like- Too-hhhumans---m--many--humans-"
"Oh..." The young Elliot squeaked as she heard that, another strike of lightning came through the window, following some thunder, the walls crackling as the sound waves went through them "Oh, Cyn...you could have told me..."
It wasn't a lecture, of course, as it was said with the adequate tone of sweetness for it to remain comforting, specially as she dared approach her hand and start giving the scared drone some rubs on the back.
"I certainly could have get you to work on the kitchen, but don't worry, it's fine~" Tessa showed her more maternal and mature side, for one of her friends needed her the most "You are okay, and everything will be okay, y'know?"
"Doubting crying face. I-i-t will b--b-be?" The doubt on her optics was more than obvious "Hesitation. H-how?"
Tessa cracked an smile and halting the hug, she moved towards the drone, now more confident. And, slowly, allowed her arms to wrap Cyn in a hug, catching by surprise.
"Because I'm here~ and now you are safe~" She says, easing her into hug "I know this kind of reunions can be overwhelming for you, but i will always be here to comfort you if it gets too much for you, okay?"
"..." Cyn's inner fans where whirling a bit intensively as her feelings started to shift, her body had grew rigid as she felt the warm from Tessa's hug enveloping her, yet, as the seconds crawled by, and as she realized how much she had needed the hug, she started to relax, her own arms wrapping around the human in response, she was making some non-sense rambles in response to the affection, meaningless words that just responded to the comfort she was getting from Tessa.
"Hmmm~ hmm...-c-comfortabl--e-e-" She hides her face on Tessa's chest as she squeezes her a bit. an smile starting to appear on her lips, and that is noticeable on her tone, despite her face being hidden.
Tessa held her there, they were going to be here for a good while, but it would be worth it, even all the punishments her parents could give, were worth it if Cyn was happy, she kissed the drone's hair and let her chin rest on the top of her head, making sure to be as protective of her as possible.
Outside, the storm started giving way to a softer rain which was trickling down the glass of the window.
++++
Hoping this small fic was to your liking.
You can support me by sending funds for the payment of my Electricity and Water Bill.
Check my Carrd, too! (If you want to get a fic like this, or something more complex, check pinned on my Twitter/X)
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afaimsarrowverse · 10 months
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The Flash 9x12-Fix-It
2023, StarLabs:
Mark:  While I was possed by the Negative Speed Force all I could do was think about how much I love Barry. Too bad no one thought of making a plot device to get free out of this....
Cecile: Mhm...
Cecile project hers mind into her 2049 body. She runs to Barry, who is fighting Negative Speed Force possesed Nora West-Allen.
Cecile: Nora, remember how much you love your dad! Here, I will show you. (uses her powers)
Nora: Ohhh.... (The Negative Speed Force leaves her) It’s gone. Where ... oh, no, it wants Eddie. Dad, I am so sorry, but you have to....
Barry: Got you. I am on my way.
West-Allen Loft, 2049
Iris: It’s Barry, it has always been Barry, even when I didn’t know it.
Eddie (clearly not happy with this answer): No, you are lying. You loved me, I know it!
Iris: I am sorry, Eddie.
Barry arrives at the scene only to see Eddie leave. He follows him and sees him holding the Crytsal.
Barry:  Eddie!
Eddie: You are too late, Barry. Iris told me the truth. She never loved me. I died for nothing, he came back and killed even more people. And I am only alive now, because the Negative Speed Force wants me to live. I have to say yes, it’s all I have left. It’s either that or death.
Barry: No, Eddie, we can help you. I will find a way to save you. And you are wrong, Iris did love you. And she is not the only one. Barry surges forward and kisses Eddie.
The Crystal in his hand shatters.
Both men look at the shards.
Eddie: I am not the avatar it wanted after all it seems.
Barry: Please, tell me it is dead, now. Or did it go and seek out Eobard again instead? Because ... I don’t want to have to kiss him too. I am not sure that would do the trick. I was never really sure what he really wanted from me...
Eddie: But you thought I wanted to kiss you?
Barry just looks at him.
Eddie: Okay, fine, you caught me. What now?
Barry: Now we go home. Iris is in labour. She needs us. I am pretty sure none of the others have the decency to actually stick around, so she is probably alone right now.
Eddie: She wasn’t thrilled to see me in 2049, what makes you think she will want to see me in 2023?
Barry: Future-Iris is kind of a bitch most of the time. Actually Future-Everyone is a bitch most of the time. Why do you think my kids spend so much time with in the past with us? Future-Team Flash sucks, that is why. Nora can come with us, just in case the Negative Speed Force trys something. And so she can kiss Eobard, when he shows up. She is lesbian, but he still loves her, so that would be fine.
Eddie: ... You life has become kind of weird since I died, you know?
Barry: Believe me, you have no idea.
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curatoroffiction · 9 months
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Congrats on 500 Followers!!
May i request a fluff with Azul ashengrotto, with reader who’s overly affectionate and also touch-starved?👀
mueheehe i need fluff to complete my heart for azul ❤️
This was such a fun piece, I hope I did your prompt justice! Either way, I had a fuckin' blast writing this one. Definitely glad I got to write it. It took longer than anticipated to get to this one, but I'm glad I stuck with it. - Gender-Neutral Reader - I decided they're both touch-starved because that's fun -----
Touch-Starved Azul Fluff
Ever since the overblot, Azul has gotten to know your.... Friendlier side. At first, he thought it was a trick. You'd drape your arm over him in a way he was only familiar with doing to prospective clients. It was always a tactic to try to familiarize himself to them using human body language. He'd brush it off, not wanting to make waves Especially not after the embarrassing ordeal of his overblot. And at first, that was the most you ever did. An overly friendly 'Hello!' and a hug. A grinning ruffle of his hair, mussying it up. The way you'd scoop him under your arm while talking to other people. It was a bit strange at first, but he got used to it. In some ways, he grew to like it. It helped him to feel less.. embarrassed of the way you'd seen him. If you weren't bothered by it, he wouldn't be bothered by it. Even if it was just an act on your part, he was grateful to be normalized. --- He soon saw how you treated everyone - It was always the same. Overly familiar body language, tugging people into your arms, ruffling hair, rubbing backs, gripping other people's arms as you laugh, resting your head against people, ect... So he came to understand that he wasn't particularly special. This fact both relieved him and made him feel.. strange. Were you fake with everyone? Or were you genuine with everyone? ... Did that mean you were still being genuine with him? Even after everything? --- Part 2 Link
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"What is this? The Xia Dynasty equivalent of the Olympics?" Wang Pangzi demands, glaring at Wu Xie. "So far it's been walking through fire, swimming, swordsmanship... and now this?" He waves his hand at the chasm, a target on the far side swinging gently in the faintest of breezes.
"Perhaps you have to prove yourself worthy if you want to enter the temple?" Wu Xie shrugs.
"Yeah, well, we ain't getting across that with what they gave us. Can you even fire a bow? I damned well can't. And we don't have Xiaoge here to try."
Liu Sang eyes the bow and arrow set on the rack beside the walkway. They glow with a faint light and Wu Xie is pretty sure one has to use them to raise the bridge. "I can do it."
They turn and look at Liu Sang. "Aiyo, a new talent, Jinx?" Wang Pangzi demands. "Didn't figure you for an archer."
A shrug. "I told you I spent some time in Siberia. And archery's quiet." He eyes Wu Xie. "So? Do I try?"
"Only one arrow, though. Make it a good shot," Wu Xie tells him.
That gets the usual side-eye as Liu Sang quietly lifts the bow, hefting its weight, testing its draw. Then, in a single smooth move, he lifts the bow, sets the arrow to the faintly glowing string and... pauses.
Eyes closed, listening, still as can be, breath slow and steady, he waits a moment longer before firing.
As the chime rings and the next walkway rises up from the chasm, Wu Xie reflects that he really needs to find out just what Liu Sang was doing in Siberia, anyway.
-----
Still not there when it comes to hand drawn stuff, though I think the pose works out fairly well. Note the complete lack of background because the Babbit is feeling lazy. Figure they're in the dark. Yeah. That's the ticket. In the dark.
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