#this happened back when i was eight years old and was completely obsessed with animal crossing

[dinosaur-mayonnaise]

maybe it’s just the autism talking but i have a weird obsession with reading video game wikis in my spare time. it’s like non fiction fanfic.

[evelhak]

Hello! For the anime asks: 1, 11, 12, 22, and 26. :D

Thank you, always a pleasure to share perspectives with you!

1. I already talked about my first anime in the previous ask here, so I'll talk about another early one that was impactful. One of our babysitters when my little siblings were still very little, had the anime version of Little Women on VHS and I wanted to watch nothing else for months. I think I was nine, and I was completely taken by the style, the huge eyes and the cute historical outfits. It affected my drawing for years. I actually saw the anime before I read the book, although I did read it during the same year at school, when I realized it was a book. Of course, when I later watched the -94 Little Women movie, I was so weirded out that Jo wasn't a blonde and Amy wasn't a brunette. Haha, I must have ignored their descriptions in the book, since I had the anime version in my head so vividly.

11. Anime I didn't expect to like but did... Romantic Killer!! It's probably the only new anime I've watched last year, but it was GENIUS. I really didn't expect anything of it, I watched it because someone made me, and for the first few episodes I was just so annoyed, because I thought I knew how it was going to go. BOY was I wrong. If you haven't watched it, don't for the love of god spoil yourself, just go watch it. I was floored. I was SO happy an anime like that was made.

12. Anime that should get more attention from others... Well, I really really want Kaleido Star to have an active fandom. I always go back to it. Yes, it's old by some standards and it shows, but it's such a rare gem. It was doing a lot of the key shonen/sports anime themes we see in newer shows too, in way that was really impactful to me as teen, and the most AMAZING part of it is that it has two female leads who have THAT dynamic, that shonen/sports anime partner dynamic, the soul connection, the completely shippable relationship with more depth than anything else in the show. I'm so sad how there's barely any fanfiction of Kaleido Star and most of it focuses on the comic relief compulsory straight relationship option, which is like... YOU KNOW. The cute character who can't stop chasing after the main character despite getting ignored every single time. Meanwhile, there's the obvious most impactful and meaningful person in the main character's life right there, they just happen to be the same gender, and yes they seem totally queer coded to me. (Ok fine, there's a more serious female-male relationship option too, but I swear the mc is so bi/pan coded.) Seriously, if you like borderline magical sports anime with larger than life partnership and a main character who wants to find unity and love and is willing to do anything to solve conflicts and achieve both a peaceful community based on the joy of the sport AND personal success at the same time without compromises, what the HELL are you doing not watching Kaleido Star??

22. Age I started watching anime... technically I was eight when I saw the first one that made me love anime, but I didn't become an obsessive anime watcher until I was 11, because I didn't have that many opportunities to watch it before that. I did watch all the card game anime that was on TV when I was younger, and Pokémon and Digimon, but it wasn't until I was 11-12 when people started really uploading anime on YouTube, which is how I gained access to much more of it. My English was still so-so, and I didn't understand half of the subtitles, but I still watched obsessively and slowly got better.

26. Manga you have read all the way through... Hmm, this doesn't make a lot of sense, since I was always primarily a manga reader as soon as I got my hands on it. So, it's more likely that I have read the manga but not watched the anime, though if I like something, I do both usually. Could the question mean a manga I read in one sitting, or something? I don't know, they vary so much in length that question doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me either. But I did routinely read a LOT of manga in one sitting when I was in middle school and high school. Specifically shojo manga. I was an aroace autistic dork trying to navigate school life, so I read shojo manga obsessively because it was my way of learning how my friends think, what the world of girls is like, how the rules of relationships work and everything, without having to ask. (I read a lot of YA books too.) I wasn't that great at masking my differences until I was in high school, but I did always have a talent for absorbing people's perspectives and behavioural patterns, so... me reading all that material and always observing everyone around me and reflecting it through what I read, pretty much accidentally turned me into a relationship expert everyone was always asking advice from, despite of me having no romantic involvements myself. It was odd... Lol, what would everyone have thought, if they'd known where my perceived wisdom was coming from. It seems like such a joke now.

[autisticandroids]

Okay so this was a while back but im preety sure you had mentioned an au of yours where dean is a serial killer and cas successfully stalks him but i don't think you talked about it more than that and i just really want to hear a bit more bc that idea sounds so tastefully fucked up

okay so. weeks later i finally end up answering this ask. it inspired this post btw. anyway spn is a show that's like. all about justifications, as i said in the post inspired by this ask. it's about having no choice and doing what you have to do. and like there is the phantasy embedded in it, a phantasy that is both indulged and punished. but most importantly it's justified. the monsters are super strong to show how brave our heroes are for fighting them, the main characters let out great wails of grief every time their lady loves are violently ripped from them (even though now they are free to do whatever they want), the narrative twists to show our heroes as correct whatever they do. the fantasy (of being allowed to enact violence, of being free from feminine "control," of being right) comes first. the material construction of the universe of supernatural comes afterward. whatever the fantasy is, the universe of supernatural will provide material conditions to justify its acting-out.

and what this means is that our protagonists, dean in particular, are constantly doing just horrific things, which in any other circumstance would be unconscionable. but the universe of supernatural provides justification for these acts. the point of my serial killer au which i think about so so so much is to ask the question: what if these justifications melted out from under their feet? what if dean was left holding nothing but a lie and the weight of everything he's done?

therefore, the premise of my au is such (under the cut because this baby is long):

john and mary winchester, in the mid seventies, joined a doomsday cult known as the men of letters. the men of letters were rather unusual for a doomsday cult, in that they believed that the apocalypse could be prevented by human behavior. this started as correct living, correct worship, yadda yadda, the kind of behavior and thought control that cults are known for, but with the justification of: if you don't do this, the world will end. eventually, this escalated to human sacrifice. the men of letters managed to untraceably kill two homeless people in the late seventies. but they eventually fell apart. however, a month after john and mary left the men of letters (mostly john's choice, mary still believed), mary died in a house fire. john took it as a sign from god that actually, the men of letters were right, and the world would end unless john himself did something about it. so he took some of the (intensely numerological) theology of the men of letters. and he worked out his own formula. and he applied it to the yellow pages. and started ritualistically killed people to prevent the apocalypse, with his two sons in the back of the car.

now, obviously, this is some kind of grief induced temporary madness on john's part, shaped by the mental abuse he suffered in the men of letters. but the thing is, once you've killed a couple of people to prevent the apocalypse. well. there's this thing called the sunk costs fallacy. john wasn't gonna question his own beliefs after that.

and he raised his boys to believe it, too, or at least he raised dean to. they didn't tell sam what they did until he was twelve, and sam didn't buy it, tried to call the cops on them several times but in the end, they always prevented him. eventually sam ran off to stanford, where he now lives under a cloud of guilt that he's too loyal to his family to rat them out.

john died a few years back of a heart attack, but dean is convinced it's because he messed up a ritual two weeks before it happened, so it pushed him further into this belief system.

dean's killings (and john's before him) are ritualistic and distinctive, obviously the same killer each time. but they happen anywhere in the united states, seemingly at random, there are inconsistent amounts of time between each one (sometimes as short as days, sometimes as long as years), and there is no particular victim profile. obviously, since our killers are following an arcane mathematical formula to make their choices for them, but the police don't know that.

castiel novak is an unemployed shut-in with a small inheritance which he's living off of, a cryptography degree, and an obsession with all things morbid. he spends most of his time on the reddit true crime forums, playing amateur sleuth. by complete chance, he happens to recognize one of the symbols frequently used in corpse displays by the so-called sioux falls satanic slaughterer (so named because the first time three of his victims were in the same part of the country, it so happened that they were all in sioux falls, south dakota. this was in the late eighties.) as being mostly only used by a little known cult group called the men of letters, which dissolved in the mid eighties.

he only notices this because, as a teen, he had a special interest in cults and fringe religious groups. the men of letters weren't a particularly notable or well known phenomenon; they were small, and a lot like every other cult that formed during the seventies cult boom. (no outsider ever heard about the human sacrifice; there were rumors, of course, but they were garbled, sensationalized, and mixed up with satanic panic fodder.)

(the men of letters' two sacrifices were nothing particularly romantic or fantastical. they first lured panhandler josie sands back to their compound with promises of food and a warm bed when she admitted she couldn't get a bed at a shelter, and was thinking of getting caught shoplifting just so she could be under a roof in the county jail. the men of letters' leader, a man who took on the name alistair, forced his inner circle to dress in the ceremonial black robes he had given them when he initiated them into his nearest and dearest, and which his wife had sewn out of old bed sheets and dyed black with home made oak gall dye. these robes still left black smudges on the wearer's skin occasionally if they sweated too much. josie was laid, bound, on the altar, a slapdash thing constructed over the course of two days from scrap plywood and a couple of milk crates. a rich red tablecloth purchased at macy's for $3.99 hid its ugliness and gave it grandeur. alistair attempted to kill the struggling miss sands by bringing a sharpened kitchen knife down on her bosom and piercing her heart, but, having never killed a human or even slaughtered an animal before, was unaware of the problem presented by the human ribcage. after rather ineffectually poking at the area beneath sands' bosom with his knife while she shrieked in pain and terror for about ninety seconds, alistair tried a different tack, and slit her throat, which worked just fine, and she bled out quite nicely. the second and final victim of the men of letters was a local vagrant named larry ganem, an older gentleman who walked with a limp. he was lured back to the compound in approximately the same manner as sands, but instead of being bound, he was fed stew laced with sleeping pills. even if alistair hadn't slit his throat, he wouldn't have woken up. it's actually arguable whether he was still alive at time of sacrifice; mary winchester (eight months into her first pregnancy), who, as a member of the inner circle, was in attendance, actually tried to take ganem's pulse as he lay on the altar (now covered by a different tablecloth; the red one had turned stiff with sands' blood and been subsequently burned) and found nothing, so it is entirely possibly only sands' death can be directly laid at alistair's feet, and ganem's is the fault of mrs. ellen harvelle, who prepared the laced stew. regardless, these two deaths are lessons in the nature of human evil: it is very rarely skilled, suave, or smooth. it's often slapdash, half-hearted, and just plain incompetent. but that makes it no less grisly. alistair may have begun to drink his own kool-aid, as it were, and escalated this far out of genuine belief that the apocalypse was coming and it was up to him to stop it, but it is far more likely that he sensed the imminent collapse of his little empire, and wanted to bind his subjects to him through the horrors of shared guilt, considering two lives a small price to pay for the continued loyalty of his inner circle. and the tactic worked: the men of letters didn't start to collapse in earnest until almost four years later. perhaps if alistair had continued the killings, the men of letters could have lasted for far longer, maybe even up until the present day. but it seems that alistair, a psychiatrist by training and unused to violence, simply didn't have the stomach for it. unlike, say, john winchester, who before his time with the men of letters had done a two year tour in vietnam, during which he had killed three living, thinking human beings with the american government's go-ahead.)

anyway. castiel is the first person, ever, to make the connection between the men of letters and the sioux falls satanic slaughterer. and once that connection is made, castiel begins to research the men of letters far more in-depth. and he notices something: the theology of the men of letters was intensely numerological, filled with patterns, significant numbers, and even spiritual equations.

castiel thinks of the seemingly random selection of the slaughterer's victims, and has an epiphany.

he cracks all his fingers, and gets coding.

six months. it takes castiel six months to discover an equation that could fit the slaughterer's pattern. it's complex, but also clearly based on several of the men of letters' holy numbers, and accounts for every single one of the killings. it also suggests that there should have been two or three more deaths scattered across the years, but more than likely those did happen, it's just that they weren't reported as part of the slaughterer's portfolio.

but much more importantly, castiel's model can also make predictions. there will be two killings, fifteen days apart, in a city seven hours' drive away, six weeks from now.

so castiel waits. and he books a hotel room. and two months later, he's waiting outside 217 oak street when a shadowy figure climbs up a tree and lets itself into the upstairs window.

dean winchester is feeling particularly all alone in the world when he breaks into maisey banks' home (217 oak street). his father has been dead for half a decade, and he hasn't spoken to his baby brother for twice that. it's not like this whole grizzly saving the world business makes him a lot of friends. so once he's done killing maisey (which is easy, she was ninety three and dying of cancer anyway. she doesn't even wake up when he slits her throat) and arranging her corpse in the appropriate manner, with prayers and sigils, he turns around. and sees a man standing behind him.

smiling slightly.

as he watches dean gut this old woman.

dean freezes.

the man takes a step forward.

"you're very attractive for a serial killer who's been operating since the eighties."

dean is silent.

"family business, is it?"

silence continues.

"i'm not here to report you to police. i'm just here to see if my algorithm worked right."

and dean finally breaks his silence: "what the hell is wrong with you?"

what's fun here is that dean knows (or rather "knows") that he isn't a serial killer. so he finds what cas is doing, this amoral serial killer stormchasing, morally repugnant. because cas has no way of knowing he isn't a regular serial killer.

there's also the fact that that cas proceeds to flirt with him. aggressively. and follows him back to his motel.

but the thing is that dean is all alone in the world. and as cas continues trailing him around, he starts getting, well, flattered. and feeling a little bit less alone.

it doesn't take very long before they fall into bed. even if cas is an amoral stalker with a fetish for what dean considers a distasteful yet necessary vocation.

so. they fall into bed. they fall in love. they make a little life together, in dean's big sexy car. dean tries to explain to cas that he's saving the world. that these people's lives are a necessary price to pay. and cas seems to listen.

of course, castiel doesn't believe a word of it. but he's found that he likes dean. really likes him. and he realizes that the collapse of dean's belief system would destroy him.

so he sets about becoming as complicit in it as possible.

even to the extent where, when dean is hit by a car and ends up into the hospital a day before one killing is meant to take place, castiel agrees to take on the job. (he doesn't actually kill anyone, obviously. but he does use his extensive skill with computers to create three fake newspaper articles which make it look like he has.)

but five years later, something goes wrong. really, really wrong. dean miscalculates the formula. and by the time he checks his work, the actual date of the next kill, as demanded by the formula, has passed. in fact, so have three others. and the world didn't end.

dean collapses. he hyperventilates. all those people. all those people. for no reason. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people.

cas seems totally unfazed. dean stares at him in shock. but cas just takes dean in his arms, and whispers in his ear: "oh, dean, i never believed in the equation. i love you no matter what you've done."

and dean buries his face in cas' chest.

[chilly-me-softly]

fluff alphabet for jordan (henderson)

This is my first alphabet so hope I did it right and that you like it! x

A - APRON

Jordan wasn't the best cook in the world, he kept it simple and always made the same recipes sure that the result was more than acceptable. And you loved to see him in action, from the moment he put on his apron until he got to the cooker, his expression always focused as if he were in the middle of a surgical operation. And then his eagerness to know if it was good, the smile on his face when you complimented him, him enormously pleased with himself.

B - BALL

Of course he always has a ball between his feet, many times urging you to play with him. And you're not a professional player at his level, but you certainly manage to distract him in other ways...

C - CUDDLE

After a day of practice what better thing than holding you in his arms while you tell him what happened while he was gone or anything else that comes to mind. Your voice is better than any relaxing drink, so much so that many times he has closed his eyes without even noticing.

But it's the little circles you draw on his arm, the light kisses you leave on his chin from time to time that make his night. Because no matter how much he likes being around the boys, no one pampers him like you do.

D - DINOSAUR

The little dinosaur is supposed to be for your son, but ever since it was given to you, it keeps you company when you're alone. Or even to annoy Jordan as he often complains that you spend more time hugging that soft toy than he does.

"I swear, as soon as he's born, I'll let him have it"

"If you say so" Jordan strokes your eight month old baby bump with a smile on his face, "did you hear mommy? She'll leave you her toys" he leaves a light kiss on your belly as you gasp hitting him with the dinosaur head.

"You're really mean Jordan, go away I never want to see you again" you put on a fake pout as he looks at you softly getting up to be at your height.

"How about you keep this dinosaur, and our son gets another one? You can match"

"I don't need a stuffed animal, I'm a big girl now" but you don't believe it either, him raising an eyebrow clearly amused and you hitting him with the dinosaur again.

E - EXERCISE

Even on his days off Jordan had to work out, the home gym built for the occasion. And he loves showing off for you, when you go to sit on a bench and your gaze settles on his toned, sweaty body.

"Like what you see?" he sneers, gently passing the towel over his face and then laying it on your shoulders, you rolling your eyes faking nonchalance.

"Please my lover is in better shape"

"Oh yeah?" Jordan walks over trapping your legs against the bench and starting to lie on top of you.

"No Jordan you're sticky" you try to desist but he's already on your lips. So you draw him to you by the neck, the thin layer of clothing separating you starting to get annoying.

F - FAMILY PHOTO

Jordan literally loves family photos, a big one of you just on the fireplace. He claims that every year you have to redo it because you all change so much, especially the little ones. Plus that year there is a new member of the family so it has to be redone.

You smile, arranging the ribbon around the baby's head in your arms as a three-year-old runs past your side almost tripping.

"Careful" you sigh, "Come on come over here next to us so we can take the picture and then you can go play" you don't know how he hasn't gotten dirty in some way yet. Jordan and the light shirt obsession. It's cute but totally not appropriate for a vulcano like your kid.

Finally Jordan arrives after talking to the photographer about the shots, wrapping an arm around you briefly. He places a kiss on your temple and the forehead of the little one in your arms before stopping the baby who was about to run away again.

"Just two minutes okay?" he smiles, crouching down and resting his hands on the kid's shoulders, smoothing down his jacket and adjusting his little bow tie before guiding him back to his seat.

And at the end of the week all you have to do is choose the best photo.

G - GETAWAY

Especially in summer you used to disappear to spend some time alone away from schedules, appointments, dinners to attend, families. Nothing was better than disconnecting, just you and Jordan relaxing in a secluded place or being tourists in some unknown location. You did everything you could to keep your mind off your troubles for even a couple of nights and it was always worth it.

H - HUG

All you had to do was say that word and Jordan would drop what he was doing, his arms gently around your body. Sometimes you did it just for the sake of it, but most of the time you just felt the need to be held and he was almost always there to satisfy you.

I - ILL

Sick Jordan was absolutely something. His unkempt state, his bright eyes and his drawling smile made him so cute in your eyes even though he felt like crap.

"Stop looking at me like that" he complains as he always does trying to hide his head somewhere while you smile.

"I'm not doing anything"

"You're looking at me" his voice comes muffled from under the pillow as you try to take it off, stroking his slightly damp hair. You liked taking care of him for once, even if it meant he wasn't at his best. He always seemed so strong, always available for you and that was one of the few times you could somehow return the favour.

He got annoying but you couldn't really take it out on him, could you?!

J - JORDAN

You didn't use nicknames, his name was good like that and you didn't need to change it or not use it at all. And he loved to hear his name coming from you. With hilarity when you were having fun; with sweetness in intimate moments; and yet angry, joking, alarmed, every possible nuance brought a smile to his face.

K - KEY

You were having breakfast one morning, you were enjoying your bowl of cereal while his had become un-eatable by now as he kept throwing you glances not caring about it.

He continues to twist something between the fingers of the hand he has hidden from your view when suddenly Jordan reaches across the table, sliding something towards you. A key.

"This is the house key. I wanted to... well give it to you but don't feel pressured in any way" he doesn't know exactly what he's nervous about, many times he's left you his keys to get in or when he was out of town for emergencies. But you looking at him motionless certainly doesn't help him. Has he made a mistake?

"You're giving me the key to your house?" your gaze on that object, incredulous, not touching it as if it might shock you. "Really?" you always had his keys on loan, having your own meant he trusted you enough to let you into his space even unannounced, or that you wouldn't lose it and risk someone else finding it. It was a really great gesture.

"Yeah I mean I thought you could have your own copy, and use it even when I'm here" a huge smile breaks across your face as you stand up going to sit on Jordan's lap, him scooting his chair further back to allow you to be more comfortable.

"That's...I have no words. Just thank you"

"I like the idea of coming home to find you already comfortable"

"Oh I surely will" you chuckle as you finally take that key in your hands, snapping to your feet causing a confused expression to appear on Jordan's face as you leave for the door.

"I forgot something" you walk back inside using the key and going straight to leave a kiss on his lips as he stands up immediately wrapping his arms around your body. "Are you crazy? It's so cold out there"

"I have a key now" you state with satisfaction as you cling to him.

L - LAUGH

Definitely his trademark, you can recognise it even with your eyes closed. You couldn't be more different than that, you always trying to be as quiet as possible while he was always so loud. But you couldn't help but be mesmerised by his face when he laughed, from his squinted eyes to his head thrown back.

"If I were to lose my memory, I'm sure your laugh would make me remember you" a soft smile on your face as you looked up at him slightly from below lying on his chest as he raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? Why would you lose your memory?"

"I said if, it's a scenario" you roll your eyes pouting, him quickly running his thumb over your lips to remove it.

"Why do you always have to be so tragic?"

"Ugh Jordan it was a compliment, it's not my fault you don't get it" and that laugh is always there to fill your heart.

M - MATCHDAY

Every home game Jordan is sure to have you at the stadium cheering for him. Over the years that has never changed, only skipping games when you weren't feeling well or when you were really pregnant and Jordan would be more concerned about you and your safety than the outcome of the game.

A little unspoken routine between you, him always leaving home early no matter the kick off time to review tactics and you sending him a text to wish him luck with a picture of you - and later a picture of you and the kids - wearing his jersey.

After the match regardless of the result and after he has done any interviews, here you are together sharing a short but sweet moment. You remind him how proud you are of him, the children want to go and play on the pitch.

N - NOSE

His nose brushes your neck as he snuggles up against you to rest; his nose brushes yours gently in an Eskimo kiss before he makes your lips connect; his nose brushes your skin after you have just stepped out of the shower. You often teased him by saying he looked like a tracker but you liked that little attention, the build up to what came next.

O - OLD

You always tease him by claiming he's getting old, sprawled out on the couch after spending half an hour chasing his son completely out of energy while the kid would happily take another ten thousand steps in the backyard.

"If I'm old then so are you, you know that don't you?"

"Yeah" you shrug, "but I'm still younger than you"

P - PIXEL

It's no secret that Jordan travels a lot during the year, your pixilated face seen more times than he'd like. But you don't hold it against him, besides being work it's his dream and moving around so much means he's living it to the fullest; that he's required and indispensable to the team besides being its captain of course.

You have learned to live the moments when you are together, to cheer and not waste it. And every time he stops to look at you while you're sleeping by his side or even just at any other time, he can't stop remembering how much those pixels don't really do you justice.

R - RING

It was a normal day in your life when you realised as a teenager that you had a thing for guys' hands, and if they had rings for some reason it was a bonus.

And many times you'd literally froze as you stared at Jordan's hands moving as he talked or wrote or cooked, the addition of that ring after your wedding didn't help the cause. You were brought back down to earth by his laughter because it was always surprising how one minute you were actively participating in the conversation and the next you were like in trance.

S - SAFE

You don't think you've ever told him verbally but you were lucky enough to have met him. Jordan makes you feel safe and you don't talk about the need to be defended from the bad. You know that with Jordan you can talk about whatever is on your mind without fear of being judged, you know he will always be there for you no matter what. You're immediately heartened by the reminder that he's by your side because any moment is less hard if the right person is by your side.

T - TOMORROW

It is something you often talk about, tomorrow. Everything is unpredictable, you never wanted to make long-term plans because you never know what might happen but only one thing you know for sure that you want Jordan by your side. And your idea matches his.

"You are my tomorrow and as long as I wake up with you by my side I will have a reason to smile"

U - UNIVERSE

"You are my universe"

"Stop it"

"But you are, why wouldn't I tell you" he chuckles as you hit him trying to hide your face.

You are one who is always on the move, always available for others but at the same time doesn't know how to react to compliments. You do what you do not to be praised or anything else but just because you feel like it and every time after a compliment of any kind any word would seem unnecessary, making you stand in front of that person smiling embarrassed making you feel uncomfortable. There, if you had to find a word to describe it you could say that compliments make you uncomfortable.

And Jordan knows this very well, but every now and then when you're alone he starts showering you with compliments and sweet phrases for the sake of it. But the truth is that he likes it when you blush, your cheeks turning red as you do your best not to look him in the eye or hide your face in your hands.

V - VOWS

It seemed years away, but your wedding day had arrived overwhelmingly. You couldn't wait to experience that day and those emotions to the fullest. The thing that had been most challenging for you was the vows, so many things to say without finding the right words. Everything seemed already said, obvious, not perfect and several times you had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown for that small detail.

But on your wedding day, no one around you exists anymore. There's just you and Jordan and your hearts full of love for each other, his thumb caressing the back of your hand for support. You almost forget what you've been struggling to write over those last few months, the words that come easily from your lips just by looking into his eyes.

W - WINNER

Winner takes it all. Jordan watches from afar as you joke with some of his teammates and the only thing he can think about is how that year just ended was one of the most amazing of his life so far, both professionally and in his personal life. He had achieved extraordinary goals with the team, broken records and set new ones. And then he had you who had given him a child a few months earlier and he felt like a winner.

Y - YUMMY

"Yeah that's yummy" Jordan watches his baby close his mouth around the spoon and then bring his thumb to his mouth getting messy with his own food.

"Why do you do that hm? Why?" his tone of voice only makes the child laugh as he waits for another bite clapping his hands on the high chair. Jordan quickly satisfies him seeing the same scene repeat itself, the little hands that have now become sticky and are getting everything they touch dirty like they always do at feeding time.

Z - ZOOM

His professionalism never fails to amaze you as you watch him from afar managing to handle questions in front of a computer. It will be the third interview in which he's asked the same things over and over again and you have never seen him make any gesture of tiredness or annoyance. And you are waiting for him to finally get up from that chair to wrap him in your arm and give him the right amount of pampering he needs to clear his head of everything.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Meet the Parents

Pairing: Cordell x Trevor x Stella 

Rating: 18+

Summary: When Stella brings her boyfriend home from college to stay the weekend, they are planning on doing a bit more than just “spending the night together”... and it certainly turns out to be more than that once Cordell overhears them in Stella’s room.  

Word Count: 4.7k

Created for: @walker-bingo​ Free Space | @anyfandomgoesbingo​ Meet the Parents/Family

Tags/Warnings: Incest, Father/Daughter Incest, Threesome, fingering (f and m rec), oral (f rec), rimming, instruction kink, daddy kink, p in v, p in a, condoms, creampie 

A/N: I’m going to hell, please come keep me company. 

Stella had gotten back from college earlier that afternoon, usual bag of laundry in tow, but she had some extra baggage this time - the boyfriend. Cordell has heard whispers of ‘the boyfriend’ from August, who spoke to his sister a little more regularly than he did, not surprisingly. No eighteen year-old fresh out of their parents’ house wants to be texting their father 24/7, but he would have appreciated some kind of heads up that they were expecting company for the weekend. 

Cordell’s sitting in the den, bourbon in hand, listening to the crickets outside chattering away, but they aren’t quite loud enough to drown out the soft giggles and whispers that are leaking from Stella’s room right now. He feels his hand clench around his glass almost like it’s a phantom limb, everything feels numb except for his ears, burning with the strain of trying to listen to what Stella and Trevor might be saying. He’s confident that whatever it is they are talking about, he doesn’t actually want to overhear the conversation. 

Draining the remainder of his drink, Cordell makes his way to the counter to pour a refill. 

He wasn’t going to bed until he knew for a fact that everyone else had gone to sleep, and from the sounds of it, Trevor and Stella weren’t exactly close to settling in. There’s a short burst of laughter and a ‘shh’, and Cordell looks up at his daughter’s closed bedroom door, moodily. 

His mind flashes back to his baby girl sneaking into the kitchen an hour ago, small pyjama shorts riding up far too high, clearly rooting through the fridge for some beers to sneak back to her room. She’d jumped when Cordell cleared his throat behind her, sitting forwards from his spot on the couch, so the light of the refrigerator caught on his stern face. 

“Whatcha doin’ there, Stella Blue?” 

“Hi, Dad,” she squeaks, tucking her hands behind her in the fridge. “Just, um,” she scrambles for something out of sight, “grabbing this.” Stella pulls a soda from behind her back. 

“Really?” Cordell smirks, not angry, he’d been expecting something like this - that’s why he was up and sitting on the couch, waiting. “Caffeine? At this hour?” Even August, teenage boy obsessed with the internet that he is, had turned out his lights and gone to bed a little while ago. 

“I - uh…” Stella grimaces. 

“Why don’t you put that back, Stels?” He feels his lips tighten and brows furrow in his best attempt at ‘stern dad’ without looking angry. For a moment, Stella looks like she’s going to argue but then she thinks better of it, puts away the soda, and slinks back to her room, shutting the door softly behind her. 

Another giggle breaks him from his reverie and his hand closes into a fist against the cold granite counter, fighting the urge to knock and tell them to go to bed. He downs the new measure of bourbon he’s just poured out, desperately wishing he could erase some of the things he’s heard tonight. But the alcohol and the burning in his throat do nothing to block out the soft groan that slips from beneath his daughter’s door. 

It was so quiet, he isn’t positive he’d heard it. And his Ranger brain kicks in, trying to find any possible explanation for what the noise could have been; the wind outside, an animal in the ranch paddock… the creak of a bed spring. That is definitely what the new sound he’s just heard is – a muffled squeak as bodies shift on a too old mattress and less than well-oiled box spring. It’s quickly followed by another quiet groan, and Cordell grits his teeth and takes a long swig of bourbon, foregoing the formality of pouring it into the glass first. 

The bottle is halfway to his lips again when he hears a small, high-pitched whine – Stella’s – but something seems … off. Cordell has known his baby girl for eighteen years. He knows what she sounds like when she’s happy, when she’s tired, when she’s sad, when she’s hurt. There’s another small whimper and Cordell strains to hear better. He needs to be sure. The third time he hears it he’s certain. That’s not a happy sound coming from his daughter’s bedroom, it’s one of discomfort, one of pain. Cordell bursts through the door in a fury, already rolling up his sleeves in preparation for tearing this Trevor kid in two for hurting his baby girl. 

“Aah, Dad!” Stella screams, pulling her pyjama top back down to cover her exposed breasts and yanking Trevor’s hand out of her shorts. Cordell stops dead, unprepared for the shock that it is seeing Stella splayed out on her bed, chest bare and trembling, and her boyfriend’s fingers between her legs. In his burning rage he also feels a flare of desire distracting enough to delay him wringing Trevor’s neck. 

Trevor is very carefully trying to shift away from Stella in the bed, like Cordell is less likely to beat him up if he increases the distance between himself and his daughter, and the movement draws Cordell’s attention back to the boy – the very naked boy – in his daughter’s bed.  

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Cordell hisses, finding the presence of mind to shut the door behind him so August doesn’t walk by and see what’s happening inside. “You think you can come into my house, force yourself on my daughter? Boy, I learned how to castrate bulls when I was ten. What do you think I’m about to do with you, huh?” Trevor is frozen in terror, boner now completely limp, his cock retreating like a turtle into its shell. 

“Dad, no!” Stella exclaims, pulling a blanket over Trevor to cover his modesty. 

“Stella, don’t worry baby, I’m not gonna let this piece of scum touch you ever again,” Cordell promises, storming towards the pair on the bed. 

“No, Daddy,” she tries again, standing up to put herself between Cordell and Trevor. “Stop. He wasn’t forcing me! I wanted it.” Cordell stops short, looking down at Stella, who has her hands pressing against his chest in an effort to calm him. “I –” Stella swallows nervously, looking him in the eye. “I’m sorry, Daddy, but I wanted this. That’s why I asked him to come stay this weekend, we wanted to, y’know…” she can’t get the words out. “Don’t hurt him, he wasn’t forcing me.” 

“But,” Cordell’s mind is still reeling from the fact that Stella is standing here in front of him telling him she planned to lose her virginity this weekend, “Stels, I heard you. You sounded like he was hurting you.”

“I would never hurt her,” Trevor shoots up in the bed, angrily, but cows under Cordell’s glare, “um, sir,” he finishes lamely. 

“Stella,” Cordell sits her down on the end of her bed and drops to one knee in front of her. He brushes her long red hair off her face, cupping her cheek gently, and focusing on her soft blue eyes, shimmering with nerves. “I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me. Was he hurting you?” 

Stella shakes her head immediately but takes a moment to find her words, Cordell can tell she’s holding something back. “No,” she finally starts, “not, um, not on purpose.” 

“What?” Trevor and Cordell speak simultaneously and equally confused. 

“It.. he, um, he didn’t hurt me Dad,” Stella is stronger in her conviction now, “it just,” she grimaces, stalling. Cordell finally understands. 

“He wasn’t very good, was he?” Cordell grimaces in sympathy, and a little amusement at Trevor’s expense. Stella shakes her head ever so slightly, and Cordell laughs. Trevor is sitting in an embarrassed silence behind them, clutching the blanket in his lap. Cordell stands, brushing a hand down the back of Stella’s head as he rounds on the boy. “You ever touched a girl before, Trevor?”

“Yes,” he answers indignantly. 

“You ever made a girl cum before?” Cordell is a little taken aback by his own bluntness, but he supposes the seven or eight shots of liquor he’s had over the past hour must be fogging his brain a little. 

“Yes,” Trevor answers again, but his doubt is evident. 

“You don’t sound too sure about that, son,” Cordell pokes, standing over him now, arms crossing over his chest. Trevor tries to stutter out an answer but he doesn’t manage any actual words. “From where I was standing, it sounds like you could use a few lessons,” Cordell smirks knowingly. 

“Dad, leave him alone,” Stella objects, climbing back up the bed to Trevor’s side. 

“What?” he feigns innocence, smiling. “I’m just looking out for my baby girl. Can’t have you getting hurt, even by accident.” 

“Dad,” she whines again, burying her head in Trevor’s shoulder. 

“Plus,” Cordell kneels again, putting himself back on their level, “what kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t make sure you were being taken good care of?” Both teens are clearly not sure what they’re supposed to say to that. Cordell takes advantage of their silence and sits on the edge of the bed, and Trevor recoils slightly into Stella’s arms, which are wrapped around his waist. “So,” Cordell brings his hand up to Trevor’s face and brushes a curl behind his ear, keeping eye contact with the boy as he speaks, “he a good kisser, Stels? Or is he useless at that too?”

“Yeah – no – he’s… he’s a good kisser, Daddy,” Stella blushes, her answers given in an almost trance-like state. 

“Well, let’s find out,” and he leans forward to kiss the younger boy, hand still in his curly brown hair. 

Their lips meet hesitantly, like Cordell is waiting for Trevor to pull away, and Trevor is waiting for Cordell to tell him this whole thing is a joke, but now they are kissing softly – like you would at the end of a first date, when you still need to find out what they like. Stella’s cheeks burn as she watches her father kiss her boyfriend gently, surprised by the surge of arousal she feels pulsing through her at the sight. She knows what Trevor’s lips feel like against hers, soft and wet and insistent, and she wonders if they feel the same to her daddy. They break apart with sharp gasps, and Cordell’s eyes flick to hers, glinting in the low light. 

“Well, at least I know he’s been showing you a good time so far, baby girl,” he smirks at her, and Stella nods gingerly. “C’mere, sweetie,” Cordell motions her forwards, and she goes willingly, not knowing what he was planning to do but wanting desperately to find out. “Kiss her,” he breathes at Trevor, and the boy listens, leaning forwards and drawing Stella into him. 

Trevor’s kiss overwhelms her, and Stella melts against his bare chest. His kiss is familiar and warm, but the hand against her back is new. It’s larger, rougher, and it curls into her skin more possessively than Trevor’s fingers ever had. Stella moans into Trevor’s lips, letting his tongue wrap around hers, and her daddy’s fingers twist into the hair on the back of her head. 

“There you go, sweetheart,” he whispers against her ear, and Stella whimpers, this time very clearly from pleasure and not discomfort. The hand against her back pushes down, and Stella follows, straddling Trevor and laying down over him, tangling their hands together on the pillow by his head. As they continue to kiss and grind, she feels Trevor’s erection through the thin cotton of her shorts. Pleased that she can feel his reaction to her, she rubs over him eagerly – and her daddy must have noticed, because his hand drags down her back and lands on her hip, encouraging her grinding. 

Trevor moans and ruts up between her legs, and the pressure there against her core feels amazing. “Shit,” Trevor groans into her lips. 

“She gettin’ wet yet?” Stella whines in embarrassment and arousal at her daddy’s words. 

“Yeah,” Trevor pants from beneath her, “can feel it, even through her shorts.” Stella hides her face in the crook of his shoulder, but can’t stop herself rubbing against the hard member between her thighs. 

“Fuck,” Cordell is smirking, Stella can hear it in his voice. “You must be soaking, baby girl.”

“Mmhmm,” Stella’s voice is muffled in the pillow, but  she doesn’t want to pick up her head and reveal just how much her daddy’s words are turning her on. 

“Bet you taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby,” Cordell’s fingers ghost over her bottom, drawing dangerously close to the wet patch that is clearly visible on her little shorts. “You wanna taste her, son? Get your first good lick of pussy?” Trevor’s groan answers him. “Roll over, Stels, on your back, honey.” Stella lets her father’s hands push her off of Trevor and onto the bed.

“Get those clothes off her,” Cordell commands Trevor, and he eagerly complies, reaching out to pull Stella’s shorts down her slim, pale legs, stretched out beneath him, cradled in the sheets. She pulls her own top over her head, small perky breasts slipping free, and Cordell can’t take his eyes off them. Fuck, his baby girl has grown up so fuckin’ pretty. “Spread your legs for us, baby.” He puts his hand on one of her thighs and encourages them to part, revealing her glistening core. “Now, hands and knees, boy, c’mon,” he spins his finger in the air, indicating Trevor needs to turn himself around and get between Stella’s legs. 

The boy climbs to the space where Cordell wants him and settles on his hands and knees, staring at the spot between Stella’s thighs where he clearly wants to be, but keeping still, because he hasn’t been told to do anything else yet. Cordell hops off the bed and quickly unbuttons his shirt, discarding it on the floor, where it’s joined shortly by his belt and pants. He crawls back onto the bed behind Trevor, and smooths a large, calloused hand up his thigh and over his ass. 

“You strike me as more of a ‘hands on learner’, buddy. That true?” 

“Yes, Sir,” Trevor nods, hoping that’s the answer Cordell was looking for. 

“Good. Then I’m gonna show you everything you’ve gotta do to make my little girl cum for you. You want that?” 

“Yes,” the boy answers eagerly. 

“You’ve just gotta follow my lead, do everything I do, okay?” 

“Mm-hmm.” Another nod, and then a shocked gasp, as Cordell leans down and runs his tongue up the seam of Trevor’s ass, right over his hole. He does it again, the same simple motion, one lick bottom to top, and Trevor groans, shuddering beneath him. 

“I thought I told you to do everything I do?” Cordell huffs when he draws back and sees Trevor’s head hanging limply between his shoulders. “Don’t leave my baby waiting.” He doesn’t move back to his task until he sees Trevor dip his head and drag his tongue over Stella’s entrance, and up to the small bundle of nerves at its peak. Stella almost squeals, hands rushing to clutch in the boy’s curls and make him stay there between her legs. He licks against her again and she whines, high and desperate. 

“Daddy…” she whimpers, tossing her head back. 

“You’re doing so good, baby girl.” Cordell brushes the hair out of her eyes, which are currently squeezed closed in pleasure. “Look so pretty… all spread out for us – doesn’t she?” 

“Mmm,” Trevor hums against Stella, his tongue still drawing its lines up and down her core. Cordell grins behind him, happy he’s not taking his mind off the task at hand. Stella’s breathing is sharp and quick, still not familiar with the sensation of having a tongue playing with her pussy, and he’s about to teach Trevor some more tricks to make her squirm. 

Cordell draws his tongue flat along Trevor’s hole, laving at the expanse of skin beneath it as well. The chain reaction of moans from Trevor and then Stella tells him that Trevor has copied his movement over Stella’s entrance. He quickly changes tact and traces the tip of his tongue in small circles right over Trevor’s hole, making it flutter and twitch, then soothing it with longer licks. “You feel what I’m doing to you?” Cordell hums into Trevor’s skin, and the boy moans in affirmation. “Do that right over her clit, nice and light— there ya go,” Stella keens across her daddy’s instructions, making him smile. “Now go ahead and give it a nice hard suck, and keep your tongue moving, just like that, yeah,” Cordell strokes his hand over Trevor’s back as he continues to build Stella closer and closer to her orgasm. 

Stella’s hands are gripping the quilt beneath her like she’s about to fall off a cliff and that’s the only thing that’s keeping her grounded. Her daddy moves up to her side, grabbing her hand and winding their fingers together, so she can hang on to him instead. She turns and buries her face in Cordell’s side, while still pushing her hips harder into her boyfriend’s mouth, whimpering in pleasure. Cordell draws soothing circles over the back of her hand as she clutches him even tighter. 

“You need to cum, baby girl?” He keeps his voice soothing, and steady. Stella nods into his side. “Alright, sweetheart.” He brushes the hair back from her face, so he can watch her expression. “Okay son, want you to take your finger and push the tip inside her, just a little bit.” Trevor doesn’t make an audible response, but Cordell can tell when he does it because Stella’s breath hitches, pushing her chest into his leg. “Alright, now work it deeper, go real slow for me.” He sees Trevor’s arm start to push in and out of his little girl. “There’s a spot you want to find, if you move your finger along the top…” and after a moment Stella moans, deep and full. “Yeah, feels good doesn’t it, baby girl?” Stella whines and answers by bucking her hips down into Trevor’s finger. “Okay keep rubbing against it like that, and get your mouth back on her —” another moan from Stella “— now a little faster —”

“Oh my god,” Stella is close to sobbing with the pleasure, now. “Daddy, Daddy, please.” Cordell can’t help the smirk that splits his face when he hears Stella begging him, not Trevor, to make her cum. 

“Go ahead and cum Stels,” he squeezes her hand. “Be my good girl, cum for Daddy now, c’mon.” 

“Daddy!” She squeals as her body convulses, then stiffens, back arching off the bed in a graceful curve that pushes the pale flesh of her breasts right towards Cordell’s face, and he can’t help but lean down and kiss one nipple, gently. 

“Good girl, Stels,” he strokes his big hand down her belly, which is still twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm. “Did so, so good for me, baby girl.” When Stella can finally peel her eyes open, and they find her daddy’s face above her, her smile is blinding, if a little dazed. 

“Fuck, that was hot, baby,” Trevor groans, reaching down to stroke himself. 

“Now, please, tell me you two have protection around here somewhere.” Cordell goes to the bedside drawer where Stella’s pointing, telling himself that it’s a good thing his baby girl was keeping condoms on hand. He finds the packet in the drawer, grabbing two, and luckily finds a small bottle of lube, too, which he brings back to the bed with him. He stalwartly does not think about the hint of bright pink he uncovered in his searching that was most definitely a dildo, lodged beside an open packet of birth control pills. 

“You ready to start the real work, son?” 

“Yes, Sir,” the boy groans, shuffling his knees closer to Stella, still between her legs. 

“Woah there partner, not so fast,” Cordell grabs his shoulder and pushes him back down to his hands and knees, ass in the air. “Gotta get you both ready first. You’re gonna follow my lead again, yeah?” Trevor hums an affirmative response. 

Cordell grabs the lube and gets some on his fingers, before tossing the bottle back to the covers. He brings one wet finger to the entrance winking up at him, and traces his fingertip up and down the seam, spreading the lube around before he pushes lightly against the opening, testing its give. It takes a moment for Trevor to relax, but Cordell gets the tip of his finger in eventually. “You gotta relax, boy, let me in. Focus on your girl there, you’re here to make her feel good, yeah?” He sees his curls bounce up and down as Trevor nods and brings his hand back to Stella’s pussy, drawing his finger through her slick before he pushes his middle finger in. 

Cordell continues to pump his first finger in and out of Trevor’s ass, feeling the boy loosening around him, until he’s ready for another finger. He pulls out and adds more lube, before bringing the digits back and pushing two slowly but firmly back in. “Start to stretch her out now, add another finger in.” Stella whimpers when Trevor draws out and re-enters her with two fingers this time. 

“Feel good darlin’?” Stella nods, locking eyes with her daddy. “I bet she’s nice and tight, ain’t she, son?”

“Yes, Sir,” Trevor pants, forehead resting against his left forearm. He seems to really be enjoying Cordell’s fingers in his ass. “She’s so fuckin’ tight. F-feels good.” 

“Try to fit another finger in there, stretch that pussy out real good f’me.” Cordell punctuates his statement by adding more lube and a third finger into Trevor’s opening, and the boy can’t contain his groan of pleasure at the thicker intrusion. 

“Fuck,” he moans, pushing a three fingers into Stella, who is dripping enough to make a spot on the sheets beneath her. She lets out an answering moan and bucks her hips up into Trevor’s hand. 

“Oh, looks like someone’s getting a little greedy, huh baby?” Cordell smirks down at his daughter, writhing on the bed, hair splayed out around her like a wreath of flames. She whines at him in response, pushing down into the fingers inside her again. “You think you’re ready for a cock, baby girl? Want your boyfriend to fill up that slutty little hole you got there?”

“Yes, Daddy, please,” she mewls, thrusting her hips again. 

“What about you, huh? Think you’re ready f’my cock?” Cordell chooses his moment well, and intentionally strokes over Trevor’s prostate when he asks the question, prompting an answering ‘fuck yes’ out of the boy. “Good answer.” 

Cordell opens one condom packet and rolls the thin barrier over Trevor’s dick for him, running the extra lube from his hand over the covered member once he’s down, then quickly rips into the second packet and rolls it on himself, before grabbing for more lube and drizzling it over himself and the tight little hole he’s about to fuck himself into. 

Trevor shifts up the bed so he’s pressed against Stella and he can run the tip of his cock through her slick folds. She pushes back against him lightly, but waits for her dad’s say so, still. Cordell ruts himself along the crack of Trevor’s ass, teasing. When the tip of his cock catches against the boy’s rim, he lets out a hiss. 

“Okay, you ready Stels?” She nods up at him. “Alright, if you need to stop you can just say, baby.” She nods again. Cordell gives Trevor a swat on the ass to indicate he should move. The muscles in his back clench as he pushes the head of his cock inside of the wet heat he’s surely been dying to get to all night. Stella’s face scrunches up as he drives himself steadily deeper inside of her, until he’s pushed in as far as he can go. Both teens let out choked moans at the feeling of finally being this wrapped up in one another. 

“Give ‘er a minute to get used to the feel of you, stay real still,” Cordell presses the head of his cock against Trevor and thrusts in shallowly, easing himself along with soft grunts, listening for any sounds of discomfort, but all he hears from the boy beneath him are small groans of pleasure. Once he’s inside, he smooths his hand up and down Trevor’s back giving him a moment to adjust as well. 

His first thrust in is shallow, but it drags the head of his cock right over Trevor’s prostate and the jolt of pleasure it sends up his body grinds him forward into Stella, drawing a moan from her. She bucks up into Trevor, forcing him deeper inside of her and simultaneously pushing him back onto her daddy’s cock. 

“That’s it, baby girl,” Cordell groans, thrusting harder into the tight heat wrapped around him, “show us how much you want it. Show us how greedy that little pussy is, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck!” Stella pants, arching into Trevor’s hips and grinding her clit against him. 

“Shit, you look so good like that darlin’. Looks so good with a cock inside her, doesn’t she?” 

“Fuck yeah. Feel so good, baby, fuck,” Trevor isn’t able to move much, being pinned between Cordell and Stella, both fucking themselves harder and harder into him, but he thrusts back against Stella with push of her daddy’s dick inside of him. Cordell’s impressed the kid’s lasted this long without busting his nut yet, considering the amount of stimulation he’s currently being subjected to, and Stella looks like she’s about to tip over the edge again along with him. He fucks into them even harder, pace quickening with each piston of his hips, and he hears Stella’s whimpers climb higher and higher as Trevor is pushed into her faster with each thrust. 

“You wanna cum again, sweetheart? Gonna cum all over that cock inside you like a good little slut? Yeah? You gonna be Daddy’s good little girl?” Cordell’s taunts push Trevor over his edge and he stutters in his pace, his ass clenching around the cock still fucking him as he cums inside Stella with a broken groan. Irritated, and on the cusp of his own orgasm, he pulls out of Trevor and throws him off of his daughter. Stella whines at the loss, and he can see her pussy clenching around the emptiness. “S’okay, baby girl, Daddy’s gotcha.” He pulls his condom off quickly and ruts his cock through Stella’s folds to ease his way when he pushes inside her. She’s so tight and warm and wet, Cordell knows he won’t last long himself, but he can wait until he’s taken care of his little girl, first. 

“Oh god, Daddy, please,” Stella moans, pressing her hips back into the cock inside her, clearly relieved to be filled up again. 

“Yeah, that’s it, honey, you fuck yourself real good on my cock. Want you to cum so hard, okay baby? Be Daddy’s perfect little slut, yeah?” Cordell lifts Stella’s ankles over his shoulders and begins a punishing pace, raking over the sweet spot inside her faster and faster on every thrust. Stella’s breath is coming in gasps so short he’s not sure she can even breathe. “C’mon baby girl, cum for your Daddy. Want you to cum for me before I fill you up. Gotta take care of you first darlin’, so c’mon, cum for me.” 

Stella turns her head into her pillow and screams her release, her whole body shaking as she cums, her walls clenching hard around the cock inside her, giving Cordell exactly what he needed to fall over the edge. He seizes up bent over Stella, her legs dropping to his sides and her arms curling around him, like he was an anchor keeping her from drifting away into nothing. A small kiss placed on her forehead, and a whisper of ‘good girl, baby’, and Cordell pulls himself out slowly, groaning at the sight of his cock laced with the white of their climaxes. He flops to the side of the bed and happily makes room for Stella when she curls into his side, drawing her fingers through the hair on his chest, seemingly lost in thought. 

“What’s on your mind, Butterbean?” Cordell asks, worriedly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.  

“Just thinkin’,” she smiles serenely. 

“About…?” 

“About how I’m never bringing a boyfriend home to meet you again.”

Tags: @vulgar-library​ @tintentrinkerin​ @negans-lucille-tblr​ @fandomfic-galore​ @petitgateau911​ @whoreforackles​ @schaefchenherde​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @little-diable​ @laxe-chester67​ @kassyscarlett​ @sonofslaanesh69​ @walkersbabygirl​ @austin-winchester67​ 

[queenof-literature]

Hiiiiiiii! Is it alright to have a fic of th LU boys in a modern setting?

Hi anon! Thank you for the request! I’m so sorry... this turned out SO LONG

Anyway

What’s this? Me doing a request after I have completely dropped the ball on everything? I’m so sorry as I stated if I haven’t directly/publicly announced I am not comfortable doing a request then I HAVE gotten all your requests and I am working on them. There’s just a lot going on right now. I love reading through all of your requests/messages, and I love writing them. Just a reminder: For now requests are closed until I can honor my commitment and catch up, but they’ll open back up eventually. 

Thank you for the request anon, I had a blast writing it! I hope it didn’t turn out too crack for your tastes.

Here’s the link for this story on Ao3

TW: Implied child abuse and themes of death. Not very explicit, but the warning is there

When Time laid eyes on his child for the first time, he knew he would do anything to protect him. Bundled in Malon’s arms, huge blue eyes looking up at him curiously, little fingers reached up to grab at him. Truthfully Time was worried that the one eye would scare his son. Malon told him that was ridiculous, he was the boy's father and the boy would know. It turns out she was right, the little boy looked at his father happily and reached up towards the man’s face, not bothered by the scars, marks, or lack of a right eye. Malon would later tease him for crying, but that was okay. 

~

It’s interesting how children don’t always match up with your imagination. His son was shy, to the point where it was becoming worrying for Time and Malon. They took him to see a counselor, after another fight with the boy’s teacher at how he wouldn’t participate in class. Social Anxiety, a severe case according to the counselor. His son would only talk at home, becoming silent anywhere else. After multiple sessions, Time had a plethora of information to help his son through it. This is not what he expected for his son’s childhood, but that didn’t matter. Life was full of surprises and his son was one of the brightest lights Time had ever met, and he would love him no matter what. 

~

“Dad?” The six year old in his lap drawing Time’s attention away from his book.

“Yes?” Time brought his full attention to his son.

“Is your name really Time?”

“Why are you asking, little wolf?” Time asked in amusement.

“Your name sounds weird compared to other names.” His son told him matter of factly, feeling the vibrations of his dad’s laugh against his back. 

“No, pup. Time is a nickname that I got and it just kind of stuck.” Time told his son. He hadn’t even considered he would question his father’s name, it was just normal to Time at this point. 

“So it’s a nickname? Can I have one? Where’d you get it from?” Twilight bounced on his lap. Time paused. Had he really never shown his son his old game console?

“Well, I was absolutely obsessed with a game: Ocarina of Time.” Time waved his hands with flourish, causing his son to giggle.

“Ocarina? Like the instrument you play?”

“That’s the one.” Time confirmed, mind jumping back to the lullabies he would play to get his son to sleep. “These games helped me…” Time trailed off, not exactly wanting to talk about his not-so-great childhood to his six year old. “They helped me through some tough times.” Time said gently. “I could go on an adventure, be a hero, explore, anything.” Time was brought out of his musings by his son’s large and curious eyes.

“Can I play?” His son asked shyly, and Time couldn’t help but grin at his son wanting to share that with him. 

“Of course, pup! Although I have to warn you.” His son perked up at Time’s serious expression. “If you find one you like, there may be no going back from the nickname.” Time warned, thinking back to the point in his life where everyone simply called him ‘Time’ instead of his real name. “Are you sure you’re ready?” Time asked seriously, struggling to hold back his laugh when his son nodded back just as serious.

“I’m ready.” Twilight confirmed. 

The rest of the day was spent with Time teaching his son how to play his old games, until it eventually came time where his son wanted to pick one. His son stared ahead at his collection, eyes lighting up when he saw one in particular. Oh, Time should have known how this would go. 

“Wolf!” His son shouted excitedly as he looked at the cover of the game.

“That’s a good one!” Time smiled at the worn game, the gold letters ‘Twilight Princess’ stood out against the wolf of the cover. His son was obsessed with animals, wolves in particular. They spent some time playing in the basement, his son instantly fell in love with the game, spending most of his time shapeshifting in and out of wolf form and babbling excitedly about how cool it was. Him and Time were so immersed they didn’t even hear Malon come home. Twilight jumped up when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Mom! Mom!” Twilight yelled, running up to hug his mother’s legs. “I have a nickname just like Dad! Twilight! Look what I can do!” Twilight ran back to the controller and shapeshifted into a wolf, mesmerized as the character howled again. Time looked back with a sheepish look as Malon raised an amused eyebrow. Of course she couldn’t be mad when the now nicknamed Twilight dragged her over and showed her all the things he could do in the game. She hadn’t seen her son this outgoing and happy in a long time. Besides, Twilight certainly wasn’t a bad name to have.

~

Time sighed in relief as he made it to his son’s school just in time for pickup. His shift had run a little overtime and he had to take a shortcut just to make it. Time beamed as his seven year old ran up to him. He still struggled to talk in the classroom, but he was just as energetic as ever.

“Dad!” Time scooped up Twilight just as the boy launched at him. “Guess what!” Twilight said excitedly. “What?” Time asked. “I made a friend!” Twilight beamed. Now that surprised Time. His boy always had trouble making friends, everyone in class tended to avoid him as much as Time hated to even think about that. 

“That’s amazing, Twi! What’s their name?” Time asked, carrying Twilight to his car. Twilight got a little embarrassed, peaking Time’s interest.

“Well… it turns out he likes the same games we do!” Twilight said, surprising Time once again. “So we made up a nickname for him too. I’m sorry, I hope that’s okay.” Twilight looked up sadly at Time’s face.

“Of course that’s fine, bud.” Time reassured, and Twilight lit up once again. “Now, what’s his favorite game? His answer depends on if you can be friends with him or not.” Time joked, making Twilight giggle from the backseat. 

“He likes A Tale of Warriors.” Twilight said. “So Warrors.” Time was silent for a moment.

“That game was okay. Ocarina of Time is still the best.” Time smirked as Twilight once again went into his argument about how, no, Twilight Princess was the best.

~

The first time Warriors was over for dinner, he continued to surprise Time. He was the opposite of their son, not a shy bone in his body, but he was a sweet kid and was obviously raised with manners. Time was even more surprised he was friends with Twilight when he met the kid in person. According to what he heard from Twilight, Warriors was quite popular among his class, and kids tended to not have patience for those very far outside their social circle, and Twilight was as quiet as they came in class. But the two had become as thick as thieves, Warriors apparently didn’t care at all how quiet Twilight was, he tossed everything aside to befriend Time’s son no matter what was said behind their back, and Time couldn’t help but feel grateful that his son had such a loyal friend. 

Malon and Time were planning on using the boy’s given name, whatever it was, but Twilight proudly introduced his friend as ‘Warriors’ and said boy seemed very happy to have that nickname. So Warriors it was. 

Dinner was louder than usual with their son’s friend, but it didn’t seem to stress their son out at all. It was obvious the two boys were close despite their obvious differences, and both parents were happy their boy was smiling and laughing around another child. By the time Warriors’ mother came to pick him up, the family had grown close with Twilight’s friend. When Time met Warriors’ mother it was obvious where the little boy got his manners from. The woman was sweet and polite, but obviously protective of her son. Time saw her scan the environment and her son’s happiness the way Malon always did with Twilight.

Warriors raced into his mother’s arms and chatted away about his evening, and it was obvious how close their bond was. Time would find out later from the woman part of the reason why. It was only her and Warriors, with her becoming an expert at balancing her career, son, and making sure her ex husband kept away from them. The woman wouldn’t tell them what happened with Warriors’ father and why they split, but by the dark, protective look on her face it became obvious to Time what had happened.

That’s why the night Time and Malon had rushed to the hospital after a panicked call from Warriors, and they saw him sitting alone in the waiting room wrapped in his mother’s blue scarf and sobbing, Malon instantly swept the boy into her warm arms. Time knew from that moment on, he had another son. 

~

The next friend Twilight made was at eight years old. Both he and Warriors had accepted the new student into their circle as soon as they talked to him. It was an instant click, from what Time heard. The little boy was one of the sweetest kids Time had ever met, and also pretty quiet. Twilight knew the struggle of being quiet in a new and scary classroom, and had gone and tried to befriend him. Time couldn’t be more proud of him. 

“I’m proud of you.” Time told his son as they were on their way to pick up Warriors from fencing practice. Warriors was still in grief, of course he was, but fencing had really struck a chord with the boy. According to him, feeling the sabre in his hand was one of the best feelings in the world. Time could tell that having something he was passionate about was helping him heal, no matter how slow the process was. Plus, according to his teacher, Warriors was a natural. 

“It was just talking to him.” Twilight replied, a little confused.

“But most won’t do that. It’s hard being a new student. I’m proud of you for reaching out, I know how scary that is.” Especially for you. Time didn’t say the thought out loud. Twilight had been getting better at coping with his social anxiety, and Time and Malon did everything they could to give him the tools he needed, but the boy still struggled immensely. 

“...do you know about any parents missing a child?” Twilight asked hesitantly. Time almost slammed on the brakes in shock.

“Do I what?” Time asked. 

“Well… the new kid said that he lives home to home and he doesn’t know where his parents are. I just thought since you help find people you might know. I want to help him.” Twilight told his dad nervously. Time went cold. That sounded a lot like foster care to him. 

“I’m sorry, pup, I don’t know of anything.” Time confirmed sadly, not knowing what else to say. It was painfully obvious the parents weren’t missing, but most likely left their child to the system. Time tried so hard not to be mad, he knew not every parent had the opportunities to provide for a child. He just hoped that child had better experiences than he did.

~

The boys had been in the basement for a while, Time figured he should go and check on the troublesome trio and make sure they didn’t find any trouble. He walked down the stairs, only to hear the sound of a battle. 

“Which one are you boys playing now?” Time asked in amusement, only to be completely ignored. “Twilight, Warriors-” before Time could say the third boy's name, Warriors interrupted him. “It’s Sky now!” Warriors hit the third boy, now deemed Sky, playfully on the shoulder. 

“Awe, Skyward Sword. Good choice.” Time laughed at the fact that now both of his sons, and their friend, all had nicknames from the same game series. 

~

Later that night, Sky got his backpack and was prepared to open the door.

“Oh! Is your guardian here dear?” Malon asked, looking out the window.

“No Ms. Malon.” Sky said shyly. “I’m walking home.”

“Just Malon is fine sweetie. It’s getting awfully late to walk…” Malon frowned in concern. “I’ll drive you home.” Malon offered brightly. 

“Oh that’s okay Ms- Malon.” Sky stammered nervously. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.

“No trouble at all, dear.” Malon smiled, grabbing her keys.

“Thank you.” Sky smiled at her gratefully, and she could melt just looking at the small boy’s smile. Sky was quiet the entire ride over, only answering small questions when Malon asked. She didn’t put too much pressure on the boy, him and her son seemed very similar in how they handled social situations.

“Is this it?” Malon double checked, approaching a suburban looking house. 

“Yes.” Sky chipped. “Thank you again!” Sky said. 

“Anytime sweetheart! Here, I’ll walk you up.” Malon turned off her car, glancing at Sky’s nervous expression as they approached the door. She would have to pay close attention to what awaited them at the top of the porch. Sure, Sky could just be a nervous kid, but Malon felt something else was going on, and her instincts were rarely wrong. She knocked politely on the door, noticing how Sky shied away from the door ever so slightly. 

“Oh hello.” A tall man answered the door. Everything in the home just seemed normal, perhaps a little too neat. The man who she assumed was the foster father had brown hair and hazel eyes, in the background he saw a woman playing with children that looked exactly like them. Everything seemed to be fine, but Malon knew better than to write off Sky’s behavior. Many awful things could happen behind closed doors. “Oh! There you are.” The man looked at Sky, but didn’t seem particularly happy to see him, nor was he angry. Simply neutral. “I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.” The man said to Malon, making Sky shrink down even more, as he slowly walked past the man and into the house. The woman playing with her children didn’t even acknowledge him, all of her attention on the kids in front of her. 

“Not at all, he was a delight.” Malon smiled despite the disturbing implications in front of her. “He’s such a sweetheart, you’re very lucky to have a kid like him.” There, she had dropped the bait, now to see how he responded. “Oh. He’s not ours. We have kids of our own.” The man said casually, and Malon felt her blood boil at the tone of voice the man had. As if blood was everything, as if she didn’t already have a son at home that wasn’t her blood. It changed nothing, she loved both her boys more than anything. “Anyway, it’s been a pleasure, have a good night.” An insincere tone spoke up before there was a door in her face. She understood now what was going on, she understood perfectly. 

Malon marched to her car, fuming as she drove home. How dare they! How dare they! There wasn’t a mark on Sky, not physically, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t ignored and neglected in that home. Why would those people even volunteer to foster if that’s how they felt? For the pats on the back? For the praises?

By the time she got home, her husband and the boys were all in bed. She quickly hid her anger enough to wish each of her boys a goodnight and make sure they were settled in their rooms, before gently shutting their doors and marching to her and her husband’s room. 

“Hey, love. How we-” Time trailed off as he saw the thunderous look his wife held. Oh no. 

“How would you feel about getting a foster license?”

~

Malon and Time, of course always asked their current children if adopting and fostering was alright with them. Twilight was very eager when he found out Warriors and him were going to be brothers, even if the situation itself was tragic. And both him and Warriors were ecstatic at the implication that Sky might be their brother too. 

“Don’t get too excited.” Time chided when he saw the looks on his boys’ faces. “This doesn’t mean we can adopt him. It may not be what he wants, and he’s been in the foster system for some time now so it’s different than it was with Warriors.” Time explained.

“Is it because my mom…” Warriors trailed off. Warriors’ child psychologist told them that Warriors had a hard time saying the word ‘death’, which was not out of the ordinary for children who were grieving.  

“We were your mother’s emergency contact, love.” Malon explained gently. “So it was easier for us to adopt you. Sky has been in the foster care system for a while now, and they have a lot of precautions to make sure he’s safe. I know this all is very confusing. Do you understand, at least a little bit?” Malon checked, and Warriors nodded slowly. 

“I think so. Well, I hope Sky says yes!” Warriors exclaimed.

“Me too, sweetheart. But don’t push him.” Malon reminded. Overall she was very pleased with how the boys seemed to understand the situation. Then Twilight piped up.

“So… are we going to adopt every friend I make?” Okay maybe Malon would need to explain this one more time. 

~

A week into fostering and Sky was still quiet, but Warriors and Twilight had a habit of making him laugh and bringing him out of his shell. He seemed fascinated whenever Time and Malon gave him even an ounce of attention, and that made their hearts twist painfully. Time, who had similar experiences, had gently explained to Sky that ignoring a child is absolutely not normal, and that he deserved better. The child had not seemed to believe Time completely, but he was slowly getting used to their home life. He enjoyed helping Malon in the garden, asking Time about his job, and playing games with Warriors and Twilight. After two months, Malon and Time thought it was finally the right moment to ask. 

“Sky… would you like to be a permanent member of the family? The option is up to you, but we would love to adopt you if you’ll be happy here.” Through many tears, all Sky could do was nod.

~

Time sighed and cracked his back. A week of desk work made his back make all sorts of fun pops. He wanted to be out in the field again, but life as a detective had been slow so far. Well, he should have been careful what he wished for.

“Detective! I need you to go with Officer Watson.” His captain called out urgently.

“What happened?” Time got up, already grabbing his jacket.

“Two kids. They found them on the streets. They need you to talk to them and calm them down, the EMTs can’t get close without them lashing out.” Well… that wasn’t exactly what Time was expecting. 

“Wait what?” Time halted. “Why me? I’m a detective not an officer.”

“We have no available social services to go into the field, they’re refusing to come with the patrol officers, you have three kids, and a background in negotiation. Now go!” His captain ordered. Time resisted rolling his eyes at the captain’s demanding tone and walked briskly with Officer Watson to a patrol car. What did he mean by kids? If this was the streets of around here, that most likely meant late teens who had run away from home.

~

They were absolutely not in their late teens. By kids, they meant children. They looked younger than his boys, sitting in a dingy alley with torn and dirty clothes. The cops around them were obviously giving them space, but surrounded them loosely to ensure they didn’t run off and get themselves hurt. Well, more hurt. 

The one that looked older was curled protectively around the younger, who had an obviously broken leg with a very worrying amount of blood. It looked like the EMTs couldn’t get close with the older ordering them to get away and shoving the younger’s head deeper into his collarbone.

“Hey, give them a little more space.” Time ordered the officers, who complied once they saw who had spoken. Time kneeled down, giving the boys plenty of space. The oldest looked no older than eight, and had stark, icy blue eyes that peered at Time with distrust and harshness. He had bright blonde hair with an odd pink streak, and Time wondered if the boy had gotten a hold of some hair dye. The younger was in the older boy’s lap, and some of the biggest brown eyes Time had ever seen peered out from behind brunette fringe. 

“Hi. My name is Time.” Time introduced himself, still kneeling a bit away. “What are your names?”

“Like we’d tell you that.” The older one snapped.

“I understand this is scary, but you two aren’t in trouble. We just want to get you two looked over. That leg looks really bad.” Time reassured, looking at the younger’s mangled leg in concern. Time didn’t have long before the EMTs would have no choice but to rush in and Time really didn’t want to get to that point. 

“You don’t understand! You’ll separate us!” The older spoke fiercely, but Time heard the way his voice wavered underneath. 

“Are you two brothers?” Time questioned. 

“W-we don’t have the same parents.” The younger’s timid and pained voice spoke up.

“That doesn’t matter. Not really.” Time assured. “You two seem close.” The younger nodded shyly from against the older’s chest.

“If we go with you, they’ll separate us.” It seemed the older had knowledge and bad experiences with social workers.

“I have an Emergency Foster License.” Time breathed out, suddenly remembering his decision. After him and Malon were powerless to help Sky until after a multitude of paperwork and negotiations were made, Time and Malon got both a normal license and an EFC, so that if a similar situation happened a child could be placed with them and hopefully stay with them for longer than a few days.

“What does that mean?” The younger asked, apparently having heard Time’s whisper of realization.

“If you come with us, you can stay with me until we figure something out. Both of you.” Time offered. These boys were obviously close, Time assumed they met after they had been exiled to the streets. He didn’t want to see them separated either. The older boy looked like he was about to protest, but in drawing the younger boy closer, he agitated his leg, causing the younger boy to cry out in pain. The older snapped his head to look at him, his face softening as he tried to sooth him. 

“I know you want to protect him.” Time addressed the blonde haired one. “I’m sure you’ve done a great job so far. But he needs medical attention. That leg will only get worse, and it’s already not healing properly.” Time didn’t want to scare them, but they needed to know how serious the younger’s leg was. Time could tell it had been a problem for some time, and any longer would mean infection. The older one bit his lip, Time could tell the older was thinking hard about this and he felt his heart squeeze. Someone this young shouldn’t have to make such a huge decision. 

“We’ll stay together?” The older asked.

“I’ll make sure of it.” And Time meant that. He wouldn’t let these two be permanently separated. 

“Will you come with us?” The older asked. Time agreed instantly, although he was a little surprised that the blonde haired boy trusted him enough to ask that. Although, perhaps he was the only one who had shown any interest in keeping the two together, and both boys seemed determined to make sure that happened. 

“I’ll stay with you the entire time if that’s what you want.” Time confirmed, and he kept his promise, even as the younger was loaded into the ambulance.

~

“Let me go!” The blonde haired boy yelled, thrashing in Time’s hold. The younger boy was being taken away into surgery, and the older boy was not happy. In fact, he was absolutely furious. 

“You can’t go into the operating room with him, little one.” Time patiently tried to explain. 

“You promised we’d be together!” The older one protested, not ceasing his struggle.

“We’ll see him as soon as he’s awake.” Time reassured. “But you can’t go with him for now.”

“Why?” The child demanded. Time considered how to explain this, Whenever one of his son’s asked a question about the world, Malon or Time tried to explain it in ways that would make sense to a young mind, instead of getting annoyed at all their questions. 

“Well… when someone is in surgery, they need to be in a very clean environment. Doctors take a lot of special steps to make sure the room is clean, or else germs can get in during the surgery and hurt the person more. Does that make sense?” Time tried his best to explain. The little boy bit his lip, before nodding slowly and relaxing slightly in Time’s grip. 

“How about we sit down, and as soon as it's okay we can see him. Okay?” Time coaxed.

“Okay.” The boy agreed quietly, ceasing his struggle and pulling away from Time. Together they sat, while Time texted Malon to let her know the situation and the promise he had made. He didn’t want to leave the child beside him to make the call, but he needed to let his wife know that he was going to be late… with two extra children along with him. He apologized as many times as he could in his text, but Malon assured him that she knew what she was getting into when they got their licenses.

‘I’ll fill out the paperwork and fax it.’ Malon offered. Bless that woman. 

~

Three hours later, Time sat in a small hospital room as two boys slept in the bed. One with a few bandages here and there, and one with a casted leg. The nurses had tried to scold the blonde boy for crowding the younger, but the icy blue glare could apparently scare off even full grown adults. Just then, a nurse entered the room. 

“Are you the one who filled out the EFC paperwork?” The young woman asked.

“My wife did. Please, call me Time. A nickname.” Time got up to shake the brunette woman’s hand. 

“Nice to meet you! I’m Lydia. I just wanted to inform you that we’re keeping them overnight for observation, especially for the leg.” She explained, gesturing to the smaller boy’s green casted leg. Since the younger wasn’t conscious for choosing the color, they asked the older child if the younger had a favorite color. Apparently it was grass green. “It’s good that we took care of it when we did, but he should be fine with a few weeks of bedrest and the medicine we prescribed. I’ll make sure he has crutches by tomorrow but I recommend at least a week of very minimal movement. He’ll most likely need physical therapy. The other boy’s injuries were mostly superficial.” Time nodded, bringing out his phone.

“Excuse me, I need to text my wife.” he began telling Malon that he would be here overnight, and what to expect. There was no way he was breaking his promise, He would stay until they both got released.

“Of course, no problem at all. Um… I noticed you left their names blank on the paperwork...” The nurse started. 

“They didn’t even give me fake names.” Time replied. “Will that be a problem?”

“It’s certainly not ideal, but it's not the first time that’s happened.” The nurse replied sadly. “Since it’s an EFC, I can submit it and explain the situation. But if you could find out their names eventually, that would be a big help.”

“Thank you so much.” Time was grateful the nurse was being so helpful. This could have gone a lot worse. 

“Of course. Please let me know if you need anything.” The young lady smiled and left to give them some privacy. Time settled in and checked the clock, seeing it was only 11 pm, and countless questions raced through his head. If they were put in the foster system, would anyone want them both? Would anyone be willing to keep up with the younger’s physical therapy? There were good people in the world, but everyone had their limitations. This was going to be a long night. 

~

Both boys seemed genuinely surprised Time was still there in the morning. 

“How are you boys feeling?” Time asked gently. 

“I’m okay.” The older replied, looking down at the small brunette curled up next to him.

“I’m good.” The brunette replied groggily, flinching at the gentle pull of his ear by the older. “I’m tired and I feel numb and dizzy.” The brunette corrected. It seemed the older was used to the younger lying about how he felt. 

“That’s normal.” Time assured. “You’re on a lot of medicine, but it will help you, I promise. And you can rest plenty when we get home. Are you boys okay with staying on the couch? It’s plenty big for both of you. I have three sons at home, but they’re all very nice.” There weren't many options in their home, their last guest room had been converted into Sky’s room months ago. But if their guests weren’t comfortable with that, then he and Malon would figure it out. The littlest one gasped and tugged on the older’s shirt. 

“I’ve never been on a couch before.” The brunette whispered excitedly. Time’s heart stopped completely. Based on the boy’s level of excitement, it seemed that any comfort at all eluded him. Had he ever even had a family? A bed? A room? Anything at all? Based on what he had heard from their conversations, he guessed that the older had run away from a home he was placed in, and the younger seemed to have been on the streets for as long as he could remember. Time had no idea how he had survived on his own so young, but he wasn’t going to question what he was grateful for.

The oldest seemed to notice the look on Time’s face, and quickly replied, trying to take the attention off of the two boys’ situation.

“That’s fine.” He stopped, before whispering “Thank you.” With so much sincerity that Time didn’t even realize it came from the older boy at first.

“It’s no problem.” Time smiled. 

~

After a lot of paperwork, a few calls home, and one wheelchair ride, Time was on his way home with two very tired boys in his backseat. He couldn’t lie, he was nervous bringing the boys home when he knew almost nothing about them. The doctors had told him they estimated their ages to be 7 and 8, so he hoped they would get along with his 8 and 9 year olds. 

“Can I ask for your names?” Time asked, looking in his rearview mirror. The youngest opened his mouth, but the older stopped him.

“No.” The blonde snapped. Time sighed.

“Okay, fair enough. But we need to figure out what to call you boys.” Time hummed thoughtfully, before an idea struck him. “My family has a tradition, we choose our nicknames based on our favorite video game series. Mine is Time, my sons’ are Twilight, Warriors and Sky. If you boys are interested we can do the same for you.” Time offered. The older one looked like he was going to reject the offer, but the younger excitedly tugged on his sleeve. 

“Okay.” The older conceded.

~

Their two guests sat on their upstairs couch, as Time set up the old game console. His sons were doing their best to keep their distance, as Malon had warned them to do, but Time could tell they were excited to see which games the two would pick. After several hours of fascinated playing, the younger had decided he enjoyed ‘Hero of Hyrule’ the most, while the oldest couldn’t decide which one he liked the most. 

“Why don’t you just combine them? The ones you seem to like most were part of the Legend of Oracle series. How about Oracle?” Warriors offered. Over the course of playing, his sons had eased their way to sitting in front of the couch, all excitedly calling out moves with their two guests. Time was grateful they all seemed to get along. Warriors and the older child had taken on a rivalry, but it seemed mostly playful as far as Time could tell. The child wrinkled his nose at Warriors’ ‘Oracle’ suggestion. “Okay… Legend?” Warriors offered, and the boy’s eyes seemed to light up, before he quickly tried to hide his excitement. “Legend is fine. Hyrule fine with you, kid?” The older asked the younger, and the brunette beamed and nodded. 

“Legend and Hyrule it is.” Time confirmed, At this point he should make a knighting ceremony.

One month later, their foster time was up, and Malon and Time knew they couldn’t give those two up so easily. After talking to their boys, who agreed full heartedly that they didn't want Legend and Hyrule to go, they arranged their bedroom so Twilight and Warriors would share, since Sky thrived on having his own space sometimes, and Hyrule and Legend could share Sky’s old room. Malon and Time felt guilty their children had to share, and they didn’t want them to feel jealous two more boys were moving in. But their boys made it very adamant that they wanted Hyrule and Legend to be a part of their family if that’s what the two boys wanted.

A few days, one question, many joyous tears, and one surprise bedroom later, Time had two more sons.

~

Word got around quickly that Time had five children. Twilight and Warriors had turned ten, their birthdays only two months apart. Sky was almost ten, and Legend had just recently turned nine according to his old birth certificate they managed to scrounge up. They had no idea when Hyrule’s birthday was, so they went off of the guess that the boy was seven, and they let Hyrule choose his new birthday. Legally that was very rare, but nop one had any idea what to do with a little boy that hadn’t officially existed in official records until his first trip to the hospital. The little boy had chosen the day he first went home with Time as his birthday, which Time absolutely did not find adorable. Nope, not at all.

But word of his five children quickly got around his job, and he was called in for many cases where interviewing children was involved. 

“Time!” His captain yelled across the precinct. Time instantly stood at attention and walked to the captain’s office. 

“Yes, sir?” Time replied dutifully. As much as his bossy tone annoyed Time sometimes, the man was a good captain, and he had a good heart.

“I need you in Interrogation Room 2. Four kids were caught stealing from the convenience store on 34th.” The captain passed Time a case folder.

“Children as in…”

“We think they’re about eight, they appear to be quadruplets, all identical.” The captain replied, and Time almost dropped the case file.

“They’re eight?” Time asked incredulously. “Why the hell are they in an interrogation room?” Time’s voice was on the verge of yelling. 

“We don’t know what else to do!” His captain snapped. “Quadruplets are rre, and yet we can’t find any recent records of any, so we don’t think they have parents. They won’t even tell us their first names.” The captain sighed, obviously having his fill with the mysterious case. 

“Okay. But I’m not interrogating them.” Time said firmly. 

“We don’t want you too. They’re not under arrest, they’re children. But we can’t just let them go without a parent or guardian.”

“Okay… I’ll see if I can find out anything from them.” Time stood and began walking out.

“Oh, and Time?” His captain called out, making Time pause in the doorway.

“Yes?” Time asked, not liking his captain’s smirk.

“Try to restrain from adopting these ones.”

“Ha ha.”

~

When his captain said identical, he really meant identical. The main difference was they each had a different colored shirt on, but each was dirty and torn. And when looking closely, Time could see a few slight differences in their faces. Time sat down in front of them quietly. 

“Hi there. My name is Time. Could you tell me your names?” Time asked, and unsurprisingly, he was met with silence. “I know this room looks a little scary,” Time began, and the one in purple scoffed,”but”, Time continued,”You guys aren’t under arrest or anything. We just can’t let you go without a parent or guardian.”

“But… we don’t have one.” The one in red said hesitantly, going quiet again when the one in blue nudged him under the table.

“There’s no one talking care of you?” Time asked gently. “Is that why you needed to steal from the store?”

“We’re just trying to survive.” The one in green spoke up for his brothers. He was obviously protective over them. 

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I understand.” Time began. “I wasn’t always in the best living situations when I was little-”

“Don’t try that.” The one in blue piped up, his brown eyes identical to his brothers’. “Don’t try to relate to us. No one can, no one can even tell us apart. If we switch clothes right now you wouldn’t know who was who. Just let us leave.” Time raised an eyebrow. These boys were all certainly intelligent. 

“The one in red has two freckles to the left of his left eye. The one in green has a sharper jawline. The one in blue has a light freckle on his chin, and the one in purple has a thinner nose.” Time rambled off perfectly, only to be met with stunned silence. 

“No one’s ever…” The one one started before trailing off. All four brother’s looked stunned that Time had even bothered to tell them apart. 

“I can help you more if you tell me your names?” Time asked once again. 

“We don’t have any.” The one in green finally answered in a hushed voice.

“What?” Time asked, surely he hadn’t heard correctly.

“We don’t have any.” The one in violet said again. “Everyone just calls us Four. We’re just one person to them… no one bothered to name us.” Time felt his world shatter. No names… their entire identity reliant on the fact that they were four. 

“We don;t have anywhere to go.” The one in red whispered. “Please, just let us go.” Oh no. Not again. He was never going to live this down…

“You could come with me.”

~

After a sheepish call to his wife, and uproarious laughter from his captain and fellow officers, Time had a car loaded with identical children. Three in back and one in front.

“Um…” Time filled the awkward silence. “Just so you boys know, my wife and five kids are waiting for us, but they won’t bombard you or anything. I just thought you ought to know.” Time warned.

“I’m sorry, did you say five?” The blue one asked, stunned. Honestly all the boys seemed stunned the entire way home, like they couldn’t believe this was happening. Time had similar feelings. Bless his wife for being so understanding and loving, and his sons for being so accepting. 

“Yeah.” Time rubbed his neck sheepishly, keeping on hand on the wheel. “They’re around your age actually.” 

“Oh! Are they… twins or anything?” The one in violet asked, a slight hope to his voice, and Time felt guilty about shooting that hope down.

“Oh, no I’m sorry. Four of them are technically adopted.” Time corrected. It sometimes took the stunned looks to remind him that having five kids around the same age wasn’t ‘normal’. They were his sons and that was all that mattered.

“Oh… wow.” The one in violet said, not knowing what to say. Time didn’t either.

“Will we… finally get names?” The one in red asked with a quiet hope. 

“Hmm. Funny you should mention that. You see, my family has a tradition…”

~

The newly dubbed Red, Green, Blue and Vio, were all having a blast playing Four Swords. The boys were amazing at working together to solve puzzles, which made sense when Time reviewed the security footage of the theft they pulled off before they were caught. Vio and Blue had a hard time getting along with his sons at first, but they all eventually settled in and got closer. His sons were watching the four work in perfect harmony in awe, while Malon and Time were in the kitchen talking in hushed voices.

“Malon, I’m so sorry. But they were all alone and-” Time panicked, and Malon quietly shushed him. 

“Time, they’re wonderful.” Malon assured, that bright and sincere smile he fell in love with on her gentle face. “But they get along with our kids so well. I think you and I both know where this is going.” Time leaned down and buried his head in her shoulder. 

“I love them already. So much, and I barely even know them. But Malon… four? We don't have the space. Sure I’m in for a promotion, but we don’t have the room. And what about our sons? What will they think?” Malon stroked his back and shushed him, and Time felt bad she had to comfort him like this.

“I’m worried about our sons too.” Malon sighed. “I think we should talk to them one by one, ask them truthfully and make sure they don’t think we’re replacing them. Twilight especially.” Time nodded into Malon’s shoulder.

“As for moving…” Malon started mischievously. He should have already known she had a plan. 

“Well, you’ve always wanted to raise horses, and my father is moving away, he wants to travel and be on the road again. And he really wants that ranch to stay in the family…”

~

After talking to each of their boys individually, Malon and Time were reassured that no, no one thought they were being replaced, and yes, everyone wanted Red, Blue Green, and Vio in the family. In fact, the more the family grew the more excited each boy got. And when they received the news of the potential move to a ranch that was big, near town, and had the potential to have animals, the boys absolutely lost their minds in excitement, Twilight especially. Now all that was left was to ask the quadruplets if they wanted this.

“Boys…” Malon started. They had sat Red, Green, Blue and Red on their bed within time and Malon’s bedroom, the door sealed shut to give them some privacy. All of the boys looked nervous, fidgeting and holding onto each other.

“I know this is a big decision, and just know that there is no pressure either way.” After three conversations similar to this one, Malon and Time were pros at this.

“We would love for you to be permanent members of the family. We would love to adopt you all if you want.” Time finished to stunned silence. Red promptly burst into tears.

“We thought you were getting rid of us!” Red cried out. 

“Oh sweetie, no.” Malon cooed. “I’m so sorry for scaring you all.” She pulled red into a hug and opened her arms for the rest to join in. Time surrounded them all in his arms.

“I think I can speak for us all.” Green joked, ever mature for his age. “We would love that, if you’ll have us.” The rest of his brothers nodded. Time heard a voice outside their door that sounded suspiciously like Warriors calling out ‘yes!’ behind the thick wood, followed by a frantic hush that sounded like Legend. Time put a finger to his lips, before sneaking over to the door. The boys on the bed covered their mouths to hush their laughter. Time yanked the door open quickly, five boys comically tumbling over into the bedroom.

“Boys!” Time scolded over the groaning pile of limbs. Hyrule had thankfully landed on top, his leg was healing but it was still quite weak. Time tried to be mad, he really did, but hearing the giggling of his wife and new sons made it extremely hard to be angry. Five pairs of eyes all peered up at him, and Time simply sighed. “Go on, then.” Time jerked his head towards the bed, and five boys rushed over (Hyrule being helped by Sky), and tackled their new brothers in hugs.

“Four!” Twilight called excitedly. “That’s a new record!”

~

Hectic months had passed by. It turns out Lon Lon Ranch was the perfect home for their family. Time had never seen Malon so happy, to have all this room to farm once again. Time himself wasn’t half bad, he was finally able to move Epona out of the stables he paid to keep her in and could spend far more time with her, spoiling her with apples and attention. Twilight was certainly happy to spend more time with the sweet horse as well. Each boy had their own job on the ranch, so work was done quickly and often within an hour. Twilight, now eleven, absolutely adored the goats Malon’s father left behind, and took extra good care of them. Warriors, on the cusp of eleven, liked painting making sure everything looked nice. Sky, now ten, took care of the cuccos because, for some reason, he got along with the little devil spawn extremely well. Legend, now 9 on the cusp of 10, would fill in wherever he was needed. He didn’t like or dislike any chores on the farm, but Malon and Time could tell he was happy here. Hyrule, who just turned 8, loved taking care of the animals with Twilight, and his leg had been getting much stronger with months of physical therapy. Red, Green, Blue, and Vio, who had, like Hyrule, chosen their own birthday and believed themselves to be about 9, loved crafting anything they could get their hands on. Malon had to teach them extra safety measures since they were so young, but they made anything from horseshoes, to little inventions around the farm. Overall, even though his life was hectic, Time was happier than he had ever been. 

That’s why, on a rainy day, a little boy crashing onto his doorstep was the last thing he expected. But really, Time should expect the unexpected at this point. 

“What was that?” Little Warriors called once he was down the stairs. 

“Warriors, you’re supposed to be in bed.” Time scolded half heartedly as he too went to see what caused the crash on his porch. Time wandered out, his heart stopping as he realized it was a tiny boy with bleach blonde hair. Warriors gasped and ran over. “Warriors, careful.” Time chided and he went to check the boy. He was absolutely soaked, and had seemed to succumb to exhaustion. Time checked him over, and picked the tiny boy up upon seeing no injuries.

“War, go tell your mom to grab towels and bring them up to the guest room, and grab his bag.” Warriors did as he was told without complaint. Time brought the little boy up to their guest room, waiting to set him down so as to not soak the blankets. With how many children they had, Time was surprised they even had a guest room. But the ranch was much larger than their old home, and the quadruplets refused to even consider not sharing a room. Legend and Hyrule also wanted to share a room, and so did Twilight and Warriors. Sky was the only one who had his own room. Time checked, as usual, with a counselor and she told him it was normal that after what his sons had been through, they would want to share spaces. She did say that as they got older they would most likely want their own spaces, so Time and Malon had been saving up for an extension to the ranch. But for now, they had a spare room. 

Malon rushed in with multiple towels, not asking any questions as she began to dry the boy off. Time appreciated that, since he had no answers. They got the boy settled. It was frustrating that all they could do was wait, but the boy wouldn’t wake up. So they waited.

An hour later, the boy finally began to stir. Both Time and Malon had waited so the child wouldn’t panic at waking alone in a strange room. Warriors had also refused to go to bed, and had stayed with them. Something about the smaller boy had struck a chord with him. Deep blue eyes opened, saw the three sitting near him, and panicked.

“Dear, it’s alright.” Malon shushed. “We found you on our porch and we dried you off. We’re not going to hurt you.” The boy calmed slightly, but still curled into himself.

“I’m sorry.” The boy mumbled, looking down in shame.

“Sweetheart it’s alright.” Malon reassured. “It’s no problem.”

“I stole.” The boy whispered, ashamed. “I stole some food and Grandma said never to steal but I was so hungry.” The little boy rambled on, pointing to his bag. Time gently picked up the sea themed bag and peeked inside. 

“These don’t look like our crops.” Time showed Malon. It didn’t matter if they were his or not, a hungry little boy had taken some food and Time didn’t care if some of his crops got lost if it meant this boy was fed. 

“The scary man at the other house chased me and I ran. I’m sorry I stole, I was just so hungry.” The boy sobbed, and Warriors had apparently deemed that enough. The older boy got up and pulled the younger into a hug, gentle enough that the little boy could escape if he wanted, but he burrowed into Warriors’ chest. The scary man next door… oh, probably Ingo. Time didn’t really interact with the man that much, but he did seem quite rude. 

“It’s okay.” Time reassured once the boy’s sobs had calmed down. “How about we make you some stew.” Time offered, and the boy peered up hopefully. “How old are you?” Time asked. He had to know, but he knew the answer would crush him.

“Six.” The boy replied, unknowing of Time’s heart rate increasing. Hell… six years old.

“I’ll go make the stew.” Malon stated gently, but her message was clear. I’ll go make the food, you get information. 

“What’s your name, little one?” Time asked. The younger just shook his head, and Time resisted a sigh. What was it with him and running into little boys who didn’t like giving away their names?

“Do you have any parents?” Time asked his next question, but he had already guessed the answer. The little boy shook his head, still clinging onto Warriors, his little hand gripping the older boy’s scarf he always wore.

“I had my grandma but…” The boy's lip quivered. “She got sick. And Aryll and I got taken away.” The boy finished, fresh tears leaking out. 

“Aryll?” Warriors questioned. 

“My little sister.” Wind answered. “They took us away. I found out she was ‘dopted.” The little boy bit his lip, thinking of the word. “But they said I wouldn’t be. I’m too old and she was young. They told me she was happy. I just want her to be happy, but they told me I wouldn’t be ‘dopted because I was too old.” Wind cried out. “So I ran away.” Wind finished, and Time was stunned. He didn’t even think he could relay that awful story to Malon.

“You can stay with us for as long as you want.” Time offered. “And we can try and find your sister.” The little boy whispered a quiet ‘thank you’, before succumbing to sleep once again in Warriors arms. Time offered to tuck the boy in. 

“No… I’m okay here.” Warriors rejected, shuffling to lean against the pillows with the small boy in his arms. Time smiled sadly at how close they seemed already. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back kiddo.” Time told Warriors. He really needed to talk to Malon.

~

“Sweetheart?” Malon prodded gently at the boy sleeping in Warriors’ arms. “We have some stew for you.” Thankfully the little boy woke up this time. As much as Malon wanted to spoil the boy with food, she knew that anything heavier than stew could do more harm than good. The boy’s groggy eyes opened and lit up at the smell of food. 

“Really?” The boy asked shyly.

“Really.” Malon handed the boy his bowl while Warriors ensured he didn’t spill any.

“Thank you.” The boy smiled, and Malon felt her heart melt. 

“Anytime. Now my husband said you had a little sister.” Malon brought up gently. To her surprise the boy lit up once more. “Mhm! Her name is Aryll. I’m a big brother!” The boy said excitedly, before becoming sad once more. “She got ‘dopted. But she’s happy.” The boy had a bittersweet smile that Malon never wanted to see on such a young face. 

“So… you know where she is?” Malon pressed gently. The boy hesitated, then nodded. 

“I snuck up and looked in the window. I don’t remember where though.” The boy murmured, voice filled with guilt. “She was giggling and laughing. The mean lady told me that ‘dopted meant she had new parents.” Malon wondered who ‘the mean lady was’, but it sounded like whoever it was had no tact whatsoever.

“Do they know she has a big brother?” Time questioned, watching the child shake his head. 

“She got taken away from me.” The little boy teared up again. Time doubted that Aryll simply forgot about her brother, even if she was younger. Perhaps her new family simply didn’t know where to look since the boy had run away. 

“If you want, you can stay here and we can help figure it all out.” Time offered after sharing a look with his wife. Warriors’ eyes grew in excitement as he looked at the little boy in his arms. 

“...Thank you.” The boy peered up at them shyly.

“Do you want to tell us your name?” Malon prodded, but the boy bit his lip. His name didn’t feel the same without Aryll to call out for him excitedly. 

“Family Tradition?” Warriors asked his parents, eyes full of mischief. 

“Is there any other way at this point?” Time asked in a dry voice. Warriors laughed and explained the tradition to the little boy still tucked in his arms. After some contemplation, the little boy spoke up. 

“Do you have one about pirates?”

~

Warriors and his new friend played Wind Waker until dawn. The newly named ‘Wind’ was too immersed to sleep, and Warriors claimed he wasn’t tired. Time and Malon decided to let them have their fun for tonight. 

In the morning, Time and Malon went into each of their son’s rooms a little early and explained the situation. Most were excited, but they knew not to bombard their guest. It turned out, however, that Wind was an absolute chatterbox once he was comfortable in his environment. He talked Warriors’ ear off about pirates all night, and greeted all of the other boys in the house when they awoke.

Time went to the next door plot of land and paid Ingo back for the crops WInd had taken so the man wouldn’t see the boy and do anything like call the police. The man wasn’t happy, but Time didn’t exactly care.

~

Soon a month had passed having a happy six year old on the ranch, before they managed to track down Wind’s sister. Time and Malon were planning to go over the next afternoon and explain the situation to the little girl’s new parents. Wind was excited, of course he was, but everyone could tell something was eating at him. 

“Wind, honey.” Malon kneeled down in the kitchen as her sons busied themselves elsewhere. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I need to be a good big brother. But…” Wind trailed off. “I really like it here.” The boy sniffled. Malon hadn’t even thought of that…

“Wind, maybe you could stay with us. You and Aryll could see each other whenever possible. I’m sorry honey, I know it's such a big choice to make, but no one will be mad no matter what you want to do. We just want you to be happy.” The little boy’s looked up at Malon with big eyes. 

“Can… Can I talk to Wars?” Malon nodded and called Warriors from outside. The boys loved playing flashlight tag all around the ranch, and WInd would usually join them with a beaming smile. Tonight however, he just sat solemnly in the kitchen. Warriors came in from the backdoor, and Malon left to go talk to her husband in their bedroom. 

“Wind? What’s wrong?” Warriors took Wind’s small hand and led them to the living room, sitting them both down on the couch.

“What if they don’t want me?” Wind asked with another sniffle, and Wars figured he meant Aryll’s parents. 

“Then they’re stupid.” Wars stated. 

“What if… what if I don’t want them. Wars, I don’t want to go.” Wind cried out, burying his head in his hands. Warriors pulled him into a hug. “Malon said I could stay, and I could see Aryll, but what if she hates me? What if Grandma would hate me for replacing her? What if-” Warriors shushed Wind gently. 

“When I was seven…” Warriors started, taking a big breath. “When I was seven my mom and I got into a really bad crash.” Wind peered up at Warriors. “I was okay, but my mom- my mom didn’t make it out.” Wars whispered, trying to keep his tears at bay. “Malon and Time took me in without a second thought. And at first, I had a hard time being around Malon. She… reminded me too much of my mom. But then I realized that Malon would never replace my mom, just like she won’t replace your grandma. She would never try to, and neither would Time. They’re my mom and my dad, but that doesn’t change the fact that I still love my mom.” Warriors finished, and Wind just looked up at him with big eyes. “I don’t know your sister, but I think we all just want you to be happy, little pirate.” Wind threw himself at Warriors’ chest once again. A few minutes later, Time and Malon emerged from upstairs. 

“Can I… Can I really stay?” Wind asked hopefully.

“Of course.” Time confirmed without hesitation. 

“And I can still see Aryll?”

“Anytime you want.” Malon promised. “She is always welcome here, and she doesn’t live that far away from what we’ve seen.

Wind spent the rest of the night playing flashlight tag with his brothers, and chattering excitedly about how he would get to see his sister the next day.

~

Time truly thought he was done adopting children. What a fool he was. 

Except this round, it wasn’t even his fault! It was his oldest son’s fault!

Time stared at his sheepish 12 year old from the doorway of his and Warriors’ room. More specifically, he was staring at the small body hiding behind his 12 year old son. 

“Son…” Time started, already exasperated by the situation. 

“...Yes Dad?” twilight asked with an innocent smile, as if he wasn’t very obviously hiding an entire child behind his back. 

“Who’s behind you?” Time raised an eyebrow. 

“Uhhh…” Twilight trailed off, looking behind him. “You can come out, cub. He won’t hurt you.” Twilight assured the body behind him.

“Cub?” Time questioned.

“I found him in an abandoned fox den!” Twilight defended. Time pinched the bridge of his nose. This entire situation was ridiculous.

“And why, pray tell, did you hide him in your room?” Time asked his eldest. Did Warriors even know there was a child hidden in his room?

“Well.” Twilight began, as if Time was the one who was being ridiculous. “I was going to hide him in here for a bit until you and Mom got home and sneak him some food. I was going to tell you, but you got home early. Dad…” Time perked up at his son’s serious tone. “He’s terrified of people. From what I can tell he has no one, and I worked for an hour to build up enough trust for him to come with me. He doesn’t talk and he was all alone! I couldn’t just leave him there!” Twilight defended, gently coaxing out the little boy behind him. The first thing Time noticed was the scars. Burn marks all over the boy’s face and exposed torso, down to his legs. The boy was only wearing a pair of shorts, and Time wondered how he hadn’t frozen out there. He had to be only seven or eight. Time sighed once again.

“Twi… I’m not mad, I’m not. But where will he stay?” Twilight perked up with a hope in his eyes.

“He can stay with me!” Twilight gestured to where the little one was practically attached to the older boy’s leg. It seemed once the little boy trusted someone, he absolutely was not going to let go. Time kneeled down to be more level with the little boy, who buried his face further into Twilight’s leg. 

“Hello there.” Time said gently. “My name is Time. I’m Twilight’s dad. Do you want some food?” The little one’s eyes lit up in excitement, peering up to look at Twilight, as if asking permission. 

“Does food sound good, Cub?” The little boy nodded slightly, and it was the most Time knew he would get out of the little boy. 

“I’ll go make some stew and warn the others. You’re telling your mother this time.”

~

By the time Malon had arrived back to the ranch from her trip to the city, the Cub had been washed and fed, and Twilight had managed to wiggle the boy into some old clothes. The little boy looked quite happy about all of these, and Twilight even heard a little giggle. Malon had managed to introduce herself gently without the little boy panicking, but he was still attached to Twilight. The older boy didn’t seem to mind very much.

Time decided the best approach to introducing the little boy to the family would be to take it one member at a time, except for the quadruplets who would all be introduced at the same time to avoid later confusion at their similar appearances. Twilight took to the normal naming ceremony, the little boy excitedly picked out the cover with a vast field of wildlife, including a fox. 

Wild spent the rest of the evening on Twilight’s lap being taught how to work the controller and gasping in delight at all the things he could do. Specifically all the things he could light on fire. Time would worry about that another day. 

In between playing, Wild was introduced to the rest of the family. There were some bumps, such as confused sobbing when he saw four identical boys, but other than that it went as well as expected. The introduction with Hyrule probably went the best, since the boys had similar backstories. Time saw those two becoming partners in crime. Twilight promised he would figure out if Wild could talk or not, and if he couldn’t, Twilight promised he would find another way to communicate. 

Overall, Wild was the most fast and unexpected acquisition of a child, but Time couldn’t say he was overly upset.

“So, another one then.” Malon teased after all their boys were tucked in.

“It appears so.” Time replied gruffly. 

“Hm. Like father, like son.” 

Time promptly banged his head on the table.

Idk I might upload an epilogue if y’all are interested.

Is this fic accurate to how the real world works? Nah. But this is an AU based on fiction, I did my best.

I’m going to specify that the video games the boys are named after aren’t the Legend of Zelda, they’re just random old games. This isn’t insanely meta or anything I just thought it would be a funny little easter egg haha.

Have an amazing week everyone!

[redhoodieone]

Hate You More

A new fic that I was inspired to write! There will be a Part 2 since this is going to get VERY smutty. Enjoy!

WARNINGS: Language. Mentions a little smut.

I’m a princess. Well, a “bit” of a princess. But that’s not exactly my fault. I’m an only child. My mom and dad always wanted one kid and once they had me they were happy...until they divorced when I was eight-years-old and my dad left somewhere far away. Ever since then, it was always just me and mom, which was never a bad thing.

We were close and got along just fine. Every weekend was our Nicholas Sparks movie marathons on the couch, eating a shit ton of strawberry ice cream straight from the carton, and painting each other’s nails and having her braid my hair and tell me stories of when I was little.

Everything was perfect with just me and my mom...until she married him.

Bruce Wayne.

I never thought my mom would ever want to remarry but Bruce somehow stole her heart and made her fall in love with him.

I didn’t want to blame her for being so stupid for marrying him. I mean, Bruce did treat my mom right. I just hated him so much for convincing my mom to move us into his mansion.

So far away from my first home.

But I know he really loves her, despite being known as a billionaire playboy, womanizing, man whore. After three years into their marriage, I noticed he really cared about me and treated me like his daughter; certainly overprotective and reminding me if I ever needed anything to always go to him.

He even helped me get into GCU. With his help, I’m now into my second year. He’s really proud that I’m a responsible, twenty-one year old college student, and that makes me feel good.

But it hasn’t always been perfect with Bruce. Not only did I get a stepdad, but I got THREE asshole stepbrothers: Dick, Jason, and Tim. They’re the boys Bruce adopted.

Dick wasn’t exactly an asshole. He’s twenty-five years old and he’s always in and out of the mansion. He’s a party animal and I rarely see him unless he’s home for Sunday dinners and for Alfred to do his laundry.

Tim is tolerable. He’s always kind to me, but he’s also a shy and awkward fourteen-year-old. He’s seriously a nerd and he’s becoming an addict to coffee and always being on his computer. But he doesn’t bother me at all.

Not like Jason Fucking Todd.

He’s twenty-one years old and is a complete lazy ass who mooches on everyone.

I honestly hated him the second I met Jason. The second my mom and I moved into the mansion, I had set down backpack on the kitchen counter so I could remove my sweater and throw away the empty bag of fried fast food I had for lunch. The moment I turned around, Jason had jumped up to sit on the kitchen counter and had the nerve to pick up my backpack and throw it to the floor.

“Oops! Your shit was in my spot.”

I had my fucking cell phone, laptop, and picture frames of my family in there.

And that’s how it all started. Jason made it very clear he hates me and I refuse to back down and be nice to him. I mean, the fucking asshole has zero respect for me anyways. All he does is drink, eat all the food, and bring bar sluts home to fuck loudly in his bedroom which is right NEXT DOOR TO MINE!!!

All night and early in the mornings. All I can hear is Jason’s headboard slamming repeatedly against the wall and his bimbos screaming, “Oh God! Right there, Jay! Oh my God, HARDER!”

Seeing him afterwards is worse though. I could be walking to the bathroom or the kitchen and he’d just happen to come by to use the bathroom too, or get a drink of water...only using a sheet that’s wrapped around his waist!

He’d fucking smirk at me and I would try so hard to not look down at his big bulge and thick hard on.

Jason is my stepbrother...only my stepbrother, I constantly remind myself.

But Jason is also an asshole. He may look sexy and taste delicious but his one unattractive flaw is his behavior.

And I’m not one to sit back and let assholes walk all over me. I do get back at Jason quite a bit; enough to piss him off.

Today is one of the days I decide to have a big appetite. After my shower, I run downstairs only wearing my comfy pajama short shorts and a black tank top. I remember Dick is at his own apartment and Alfred is away in London on “holiday” as he calls it. Entering the kitchen, I see Mom making breakfast for us: pancakes, bacon, and sausage.

Bruce is sitting at the kitchen table, drinking his coffee and reading on his cellphone. Tim is drinking a cup of coffee (maybe 5th refill?) and eating pancakes and some sausage.

“Good morning,” I say to all of them.

“Good morning sweetie,” Mom replies with such a warm motherly smile.

Bruce grins at me. “Good morning, Y/N.”

All Tim does is nod his head to me and continues to eat.

“I’m starving,” I say and already fill my plate with two pancakes and some bacon and sausage as well.

I take a seat next to Tim and dig in. Ace, Bruce’s dog moves closer to my feet and looks up at me for some food. Fucking puppy dog eyes...I sneak a few pieces of bacon to him.

Mom eventually sits down with hers and Bruce’s plate. He smiles lovingly at her and the two kiss.

It’s a calming morning. Everyone’s eating and just enjoying the silence...until the asshole comes into the kitchen.

Jason literally has no shame. He comes in only wearing his black boxers and has very cute bed head. Stop it, Y/N. He’s completely shirtless. Not even acknowledging he’s in the kitchen, Jason quickly makes a plate for himself which he only puts three pancakes and like two handful sizes of bacon.

I silently growl and tighten my hand around my fork as I’m stuck looking at his bare, muscular upper body. His arms look strong. He’s just...all muscle. All man.

But then I remember he’s a fucking asshole and I hate him.

As if he can feel my eyes on him, Jason quickly glances at me and smirks. He actually fucking flexes his muscles for me.

I immediately look down because I just know my cheeks are red like tomatoes. God, does he have to be so attractive???

“Good morning, princess,” Jason taunts me, after greeting everyone else, obviously. He sits directly in front of me with that shit eating grin. “Did you sleep well last night?”

I glare at him. Fuck him. “Yeah, I did. You know very well that I can’t sleep peacefully unless you bring a whore home and fuck her until she’s blue in the face, Jason. I mean, when it’s so quiet at night, I just can’t fall asleep! It’s impossible! It’s like I HAVE to hear you fuck just to go to sleep!” I say sarcastically.

“So, you do listen to me when I fuck my girls, huh? Is your sex life nonexistent that you have to get yourself off on others who actually get off?” Jason jokes and shoves a piece of bacon in his mouth. “That’s pretty pathetic, even for you, Y/N. At least Tiny Tim here watches internet porn. Maybe you should start getting yourself off with that instead of listening to me fuck.”

“Jason...” Bruce warns. “Don’t even start this morning.”

“Start what? I’m not even doing anything,” Jason says. He raises an eyebrow at me and keeps that fucking smirk on his face.

“Leave Y/N alone, Jason,” Tim butts in.

“Quiet Timbers. Let the princess tell me off. I love it when she gets all red and pissed off.”

My mom glances at me with a serious look, too. Why is she giving me that look when I didn’t even do anything?!

“Aw, there’s sausage?! I didn’t know there was sausage up there!” Jason whines. His eyes dart from my plate over to my mom and Bruce.

“I actually served the last few pieces to Bruce. I’m sorry, Jason,” my mom apologizes. She frowns and looks down at hers and Bruce’s empty plates.

“That’s all right. I see there’s still five uneaten sausages on Y/N’s plate,” Jason says and smirks at me. He looks down at my plate and back up at me. “You’re not going to eat them, are you princess? Because if not, I want them.”

He’s fucking teasing me. Jason is mocking me with those green eyes and that fucking smile that wets every girl’s panties. It’s like he actually believes he’s going to get away with this. He really thinks he’s going to get what he wants. Jason slowly reaches a hand towards my plate to get my sausages.

I want to burst his cocky bubble in front of everyone.

“Actually...I’m going to give them to the dog. And by dog, I mean Ace,” I say, quickly grabbing all the sausages in my hand and feed them to Ace under the table. “You see, I don’t feed dirty dogs like you. Ace is a clean, loyal, and sweet dog. You on the other hand are a dirty, disgusting, slut who fucks anything with a hole.”

My sudden outburst startles everyone at the table. I see everyone’s wide eyes and open mouths hanging in shock at me.

Jason chuckles lowly. His eyes are full of anger and hatred for me. “What did you just say to me?” he asks.

“You heard me,” I reply with the same tone. “Unless you lost your hearing due to all the screaming from the banshee skank you brought home last night from only God knows where.”

“You know, you’re starting to sound like a jealous bitch. For someone who has claimed to hate me and not want anything to do with me on multiple occasions, you seem to be really obsessed about my sex life,”

“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself,”

“Y/N stop,” my mom says.

“You think I’m flattering myself?! I’m not the one who always checks myself out! You know, I always see you staring at me right?! If anything, you’re flattered by me!” Jason snaps.

“ENOUGH!!!” Bruce shouts.

We’re all silent but Jason and I continue to stare each other down.

“I’ve had enough of the two of you fighting! It’s old and it’s seriously ridiculous. It needs to end now. Your mother and I are going to leave for Spain tonight, and I don’t want to hear anything bad about the two of you while we’re gone. Now, apologize to each other,” Bruce says.

“Apologize to the princess? For what?! She’s a fucking bitch, who’s always bitching, and she’s basically the biggest bitch who ever bitched!” Jason yells. “She should apologize to me!”

“If I’m a fucking bitch then that makes you the biggest asshole here! You’re literally the most disgusting, disrespectful, lazy ass guy I have ever met! You have NO respect for anyone who lives here! Why should I fucking apologize to you?! All you do is drink, eat all the food, and bring random whores to our house and force us all to listen to you have sex!” I yell back.

“Our house? You think this is your house, too? I hate to burst your “bitching bubble” sweetheart, but this isn’t your house! You’re extra baggage that had to be dragged here! Your mom was wanted here; not you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re not even family!” Jason yells louder than before.

My bottom lip trembles uncontrollably. I feel tears running down my cheeks. I need to get out of here before I completely break down in front of Jason.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, Jason!” I choke out.

I quickly jump out of my seat and run up the stairs. After I slam my bedroom door, I throw myself down onto my bed and cry. I can even hear Bruce screaming his head off and tearing Jason a new one.

——————————————————————————

I wake up to an empty stomach. Rolling over onto my back, I rub my eyes and yawn. It’s dark in my bedroom; indicating it’s already nighttime. I reach for my cellphone on my nightstand and see it’s already eight o’clock.

I must have been really exhausted to have slept the day away. Those days usually happen after I cry a lot and feel like shit.

Mom and Bruce are probably already gone. Their Spain trip is only for the weekend. I’m seriously glad about that since I don’t know how I’m going to get through the weekend with Jason still around.

Maybe if I’m lucky he’s already at the bar and picking up skanks. That means I have time to eat and a few hours of silence for myself.

I decide to go downstairs and I instantly notice all the lights are off except for the kitchen light. Slowly stepping into the kitchen, I see it’s empty and that there’s a big box of pizza and two drinks; a bottle of beer and a glass of orange juice with the bottle of Vodka next to it.

Raising an eyebrow in question, I look around to see who did this. Noticing the back sliding door is open, I walk over slowly to peek out.

Jason.

On the phone and sitting at the patio table.

He doesn’t see me but I can hear him clearly.

“Do you think she’ll really like it?”

[maggiecheungs]

i am the anon from before and i would absolutely love to read ur paragraph of reasons for why u chose which films u did.

really? 🥺👉👈 lmao i'm so used to people running in the other direction when i try to talk about cinema or books (which, now that i’ve written eight paragraphs in response to this ask, i understand 😳). but you asked, so….

crouching tiger, hidden dragon (2000) - THIS FILM IS SO GOOD. i really love wuxia films and cdramas but this one is a particular favourite beacuse it just feels so.... perfectly balanced? the cast is absolutely amazing, the cinematography is stunning, the relationships are so fraught, the fight sequences are absolutely incredible, the atmosphere is intoxicating. objectively it’s probably not completely flawless (few things are!) but to me it pretty much feels like a perfect film

the tale of princess kaguya (2013) - this is one of studio ghibli's less famous films: an adaptation of the 9th century fairytale the tale of the bamboo cutter made with exceedingly simple animation. the story is about a bamboo cutter who discovers a little moon princess in the forest one day, adopts her as his daughter, and takes her to the capital city where she is courted by many suitors (all of whom she rejects) before she is finally summoned back to the moon. this film is so deceptively simple on the surface, but ultimately that’s what makes it all the more profound and heartbreaking

mary is happy, mary is happy (2013) - i only watched this film this year but i'm absolutely obsessed with it. it’s a quirky coming-of-age film by one of my favourite directors, ter nawapol, based on 410 consecutive tweets from a real-life teenager, which nawapol manages to thread together into an often surreal, darkly comic and startlingly profound story about a teenage girl approaching graduation

your name engraved herein (2020) - this one, about two young men falling in love in 1980s taiwan, is one of my absolute favourite queer coming of age films. it’s absolutely excellent on all counts--cinematography, acting, characterisation--but what really stays with me is the sheer amount of emotion it contains. if i tried to hold that much emotion in me i would probably explode

the philadelphia story (1940) - this film was my childhood favourite--i grew up watching a LOT of old hollywood films, but this is my fave. it's a screwball romantic comedy/satire of upper-class 1930s Philadelphia, about a socialite who’s trying to get married to her second husband (but her first husband and a pair of reporters turn up and make everything a lot more complicated). PLUS it stars katharine hepburn and cary grant, both of whom i adore <3

malila: the farewell flower (2017) - malila is about two men (former lovers) who reunite in the thai countryside years after they went their separate ways; one of them is terminally ill, and the other one is about to become a monk. i don’t really know how to describe it beyond that--it’s just an incredibly quiet and slow and intimate film about the way grief can eat away at a person; about love not as a grand gesture but as absolute familiarity and trust; about how love and grief go hand in hand

sherekilebi/the eccentrics (1973) - another film from my childhood <3 this is one of the masterpieces of georgian cinema so obviously, being half georgian, i grew up watching it. it’s a soviet satire film about a young man from the provinces who gets thrown in prison and ends up building a flying machine with his mad genius cellmate and i just adore it to pieces <3

the adolescence of utena (1999) - this film is an absolute mindfuck directed by kunihiko ikuhara (another of my absolute favourite directors, you either love him or hate him). it's a retelling of/sequel/companion to the 39 episode anime revolutionary girl utena, but it can stand alone. apart from that, i LITERALLY don’t know how to describe it. uhhh... the main character turns into a racing car at one point and that’s not even the strangest thing that happens

[douwatahima]

Turns out I have some more feelings about the manga I finished yesterday. Not naming it so this doesn’t end up in the tags. Please don’t read this, lol. The fourteen year old version of me jumped out.

I think the thing that bugged me most about this last stretch of DN Angel is how much it felt like Yukiru Sugisaki was just...done with the whole thing. Like everything felt very rushed towards a specific, easy conclusion that didn't address a lot of the interesting pieces she had previously laid down.

Like, I remember reading those last few chapters before the eight year long hiatus and HOLY SHIT there was so much! The Dark/Risa relationship all of a sudden becomes an actual threat, not just to Daisuke/Riku, but to Daisuke himself! Satoshi completely lets his guard down around Daisuke, trusting that the person he loves will make this huge sacrifice for him, and when Daisuke refuses he POINTS A GUN TO HIS OWN HEAD. AND THEN WHEN HE GETS CAUGHT HE GOES OFF INTO THE FOREST WITH. THE. GUN!!! AND THEN!!!! RIKU FINDS OUT DAISUKE IS DARK!!!!!!!! IT'S WILD AS FUCK!!!!!!!!

And then we come back and a lot of this is immediately dealt with in a comedic fashion and we just move on. Dark and Daisuke don't talk about that Risa interaction. No one goes after Satoshi. Daisuke comes up with some excuse and Riku is satiated for now.

Then we got the whole dream circus arc. Which was honestly alright. I enjoyed Daisuke coming to terms with the fact that he cannot separate himself from Dark. They are one and the same, for better or worse. And honestly, at first I thought this arc was going to lead us somewhere interesting. Because if Daisuke and Dark now understand that they are a package deal, how do they deal with the whole Riku and Risa thing???? (The answer is they basically don't but I'll get there). I was 100% ready to love this arc and then they did...the thing and I...

Okay, look. Full disclosure, I've been a DN Angel fan since I was like, fourteen. It is linked to me in a way that can only happen when you're obsessed with something at the height of your awkward teen years. And the thing that continues to be my favourite part of the whole story is the relationship between Satoshi and Daisuke. They were my number one ship, not just at fourteen, but...honestly probably through all of my teen years. Like, remember when people used to make jokes on this website about someone asking about your otp and you pull out your binder of reasons? I literally made a Satodai binder. That's not a joke. They were it for me.

And, don't get me wrong, there was never a point where I honestly thought the manga was gonna have Daisuke leave Riku and end up with Satoshi. I dreamed about it, but didn't honestly expect it. BUT I loved the way the manga addressed Satoshi's feelings for Daisuke. This is someone who Satoshi treasures above all others. The person who makes him believe the world can be better. The person he would do ANYTHING for. Like, Satoshi LOVES him.

Which is why it's so frustrating to me that Yukiru Sugisaki decided it would be better for Satoshi to have a two second dream about Risa that changes all of his feelings instantaneously. Like, I'm not here to shit on Satoshi/Risa fans, and I'm happy y'all got your ship. Honestly. But, the two of them have barely spoken before this and then Satoshi has a dream and literally says, "oh I guess my feelings have changed now" like...two volumes before the end! AND THEN THEY DON'T EVEN TALK UNTIL THE VERY END OF THE SERIES. FOR WHAT????

It honestly just read to me as, the mangaka wanted to end the series and Satoshi continuing to be into Daisuke was too emotionally complicated to quickly wrap up so he loves Risa now. And hey, that clears up the whole Dark/Risa thing, right? I'll get to that.

ANYWAY, so then we jump into an elongated story about some past Niwa/Hikari drama which would've been fun if I hadn't been growing more and more confused as I noticed how few chapters were left and we were STILL ON THIS. Like, I love when DN Angel gives us fun new characters to talk about. Hell, the Freedert arc and the Argentine arc are two of my favourites. But, when you only have a limited amount of time...It just felt like this was something Yukiru Sugisaki was maybe sitting on for awhile so she didn't want to skip it, but she also wanted to finish the story as soon as possible so the ending comes IMMEDIATELY after which makes this whole arc feel...weird. Like...we could've spent our last few chapters on the characters we know and love but...instead...

Then we get to the endgame. So, quick poll, do we think the mangaka already had this ending in mind before the anime came out or do we think she decided to do the anime ending because she had no idea how to finish the story. I'm really not sure, but either way it felt soooo anticlimactic given that we've had the anime ending for almost 20 years. Like...what was I waiting around for if you were just gonna do the same thing????? And look, I honestly never finished the anime because I couldn't stand the way they chose to characterize some of my favourite characters (most notably Satoshi and Risa) and I'd read what the ending was and hated it lol. But I digress.

The thing about the ending that gets me most is that it all comes on so fast. Like, you wanna do the anime ending? Okay. Don't love the idea, but okay. BUT it all happens in like... 2-3 chapters. Like, all of a sudden the Black Wings is sucking up power from the artwork and, oh no, here comes Krad ready wreck shop. And then we, randomly at THE END OF THE MANGA find out Satoshi's adopted Dad is actually his real Dad and also he's a piece of artwork which makes Satoshi half a piece of artwork???? Why are you telling us this now???? Then Satoshi and Daisuke seal Dark and Krad into the Black Wings the end. Like...????? That's it?????

OH ALSO I FORGOT TO MENTION THAT THE HARADA TWINS ARE MOVING TO ANOTHER COUNTRY. HONESTLY PROBABLY BECAUSE IT FEELS LIKE YUKIRU SUGISAKI FORGOT TOO SINCE THERE'S NO CLOSURE ON THAT?????? (Honestly, I'm laughing because I literally forgot about this fact until just now. AGAIN WHAT WAS THE REASON LMAO!!!)

Okay, so the story's done but where does it leave our favourite characters???

Daisuke and Riku have figured their shit out and are...presumably going to do long distance??? Idk, they never really address whether they're staying together or not as far as I can remember???? Like, this is the relationship I thought we would get the most closure on but ?????????

Risa just gets to be sad for awhile I guess. It's honestly so infuriating to me that we got this awesome moment before the hiatus where Dark asked Risa if she would love him no matter what and she says yes with her WHOLE CHEST and that's enough for Dark to almost, like, take over Daisuke's body permanently. Like, her love for Dark is as real as Riku's love for Daisuke but she's not allowed to have a happy ending like her sister. She gets to see Dark one last time where he kisses her and hopes she'll always be his best girl and then he flies off into the night while she begs him not to leave. Then, she gets to cry in the street, trying to remember him while everyone else is forgetting. Well, at least she has Satoshi, right????

But like, we don't even know if she likes Satoshi that way. There's been...no indication that she does as far as I know. And as he's hugging her, Satoshi is having these thoughts hoping she'll be able to remember Dark because he knows how meaningful he is to her. So their ending is LITERALLY Risa gets to be horribly heartbroken and Satoshi gets to pine for someone else who, at this point, doesn't love him back.

Like, once again not to shit on Satoshi/Risa fans but...is this the ending y'all wanted????? Because as someone who stans them both this just felt horrible. It reads as a feeble attempt to "pair the spares" (since in the story the mangaka wanted to tell, neither of them could be with who they originally loved) but, like, even then this is the saddest way to do that. OH! And once again, if Risa is moving, ARE THEY EVEN GOING TO BE TOGETHER????? Like, what are we supposed to get from this what is the REASON??????

And then there's Dark and Krad being stuck in the Black Wings for eternity. The biggest reason I didn't like this ending in the anime. Like, look. I get that you have to end your manga somehow. BUT if your plan was to reunite Dark and Krad in this way I don't understand why you would write a whole interaction, mere chapters before, having Dark say that that's the LAST thing he wants to do. HE SAYS THAT THEY AREN'T THE SAME ANYMORE AND THAT HE DOESN'T WANT TO RETURN TO HIM. AND THEN HE'S FORCED TO DO JUST THAT. FOR. WHAT?????

Like, Dark isn't a villain. He's one of our main protagonists and has been this whole time. I get that in stories sometimes characters have sad endings. (I've already argued that I think both Satoshi and Risa's endings were bittersweet at best). But to have Dark say mere chapters before it happens that he categorically DOES NOT want to rejoin Krad and then force him to do just that feels like such a needlessly cruel thing to do to this character we're meant to love.

Once again, it just felt so much like Yukiru Sugisaki wanted to end the series as quickly as possible. I get her wanting to come back to it; she's kinda notorious for not finishing things so I get the impulse to just drive through and get at least one story done. But, it felt like so many things were skipped over or changed just because it made getting to the end goal easier and less complicated. Not addressing some of the cool shit she laid down before the hiatus, completely morphing Satoshi's feelings in a dream, writing off Risa's feelings for Dark, telling us all of the Satoshi backstory stuff at the last goddamn minute, giving Dark his worst nightmare as an ending, so many of these things done just to move things along towards a specific end goal as fast as possible.

Honestly, there's a part of me that wishes she hadn't come back and finished it at all. I was happy enough with the ending I had written in my head and would've preferred it to what we ended up getting ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Anyway, to anyone who actually read this (and a part of me hopes no one does lmao) thanks for listening to me ramble. And if you're a Satoshi/Risa fan, uh, sorry I hated on your ship lol. You're cool.

[heartbreaknow]

😍😭💡

Thank you very much for the asks, anon! I appreciate you muchly! 

I actually already answered the first two (favorite fic trope, and fic that left me inconsolable) over here. As for the last one…um.

 💡 Tell me a headcanon (and who you wish would write it)?

The thing is, I…I kind of did it wrong. I accidentally wrote an entire blow-by-blow of the scenario I want. Which isn’t really what I was supposed to do at all. But now that I’ve written it I guess I’m gonna post it? Lol. So here’s one bit of Starker headcanon that I am wildly obsessed with:

Caught In The Act

I want to see Peter and Tony in a secret relationship where they’re desperately in love, but Tony is also a complete wreck because he is fucking his eighteen-year-old mentee, and it is the best, hottest, neediest sex of his life, and he can’t seem to stop, and oh my god he is a sick, awful person. And Peter is just taking every single thing Tony gives him, and trying to give as much back as he can, and trying not to think about the fact that when Mr Stark ends this, he is going to break. And they’re not really talking about things the way they should, because they’re both convinced they are inappropriately invested in this thing, in each other. And they’re still in that frantic, perpetually horny stage where they can’t keep their hands off each other, and whenever they’re alone together, level-headed decision-making goes out the window and they end up fucking in some random places.  

Which is how they end up getting caught in the act by almost all of the Avengers.

I don’t know the specifics of how it would happen. The tropey version that’s easy (if maybe a little unbelievable) is that the Avengers throw Tony a surprise party, and they forget to tell Peter about it. So Peter and Tony think they’re alone in the Tower, and that everyone is away doing various Avengers things.

So yeah, maybe they start frantically making out in the elevator on the way up to the Tower, because they just can’t wait. And Peter is so busy trying not to come immediately, like he usually does, that his senses don’t pick up the presence of a bunch of people in the Tower’s main room.

Bonus points if they are actually fucking by the time the elevator doors ding open and reveal them there: Peter’s head thrown back, mouth gaping open, riding out the tail-end of his first orgasm, his naked legs wrapped tight around Tony’s waist—and Tony standing clothed between Peter’s pale thighs, pinning him to the wall, his dress pants pulled down just enough to free his cock so he can pound into Peter like they both need.  

And there stand like six or eight of the Avengers (with noise-makers and party hats, if we really want to milk the horrifying absurdity of the situation), utterly speechless, in various states of shock, confusion, and dawning horror.

Extra, extra bonus points if Peter sees the others first, and gasps, “Oh god, M-Mr Stark,” to try to alert him that they’re not alone—so now not only do the Avengers know Tony is fucking his teenage protegee, they know Tony is fucking his teenage protegee who still calls him by an honorific.

But the crucial part that I’m really here for, is how Peter and Tony react. Because after several long beats of horrified silence, Tony just crumples. As soon as Peter unwinds his legs from around Tony’s waist and stands—a bit shakily—on his own, it’s like Tony withers. Like someone takes the spine right out of him. 

As far as Tony’s concerned, he has no defense. Whatever they’re all thinking, whatever they think should be done with him, he deserves all of it and worse. At first he’s standing in front of Peter, shielding him. But one of the others tells him to step away from Peter, as though he’s a threat to Peter, and he hesitates but he does it, because maybe he is a threat to Peter. He honestly has no idea anymore.

Peter still doesn’t quite understand exactly how fucked up Tony is over what they’ve been doing together, and thus doesn’t have the context to properly understand Tony’s reaction. So for Peter it feels kind of like abandonment—the way Tony withdraws so completely, even while he’s right there. And Peter is just standing there in nothing but a geeky t-shirt, holding the rest of his clothes in front of him, still shaky from the orgasm he had literally a minute ago. Vulnerable as hell.

Then the questions start.

And not all of the Avengers are taking it badly, but a couple of them are. And Tony’s not defending himself at all. 

Peter watches Mr Stark give these flat, horrible, wrong answers to the painful, awful questions the others keep leveling at him…and outrage begins to flare inside Peter, strong and fierce.

And okay, this entire thing is way too long already so I’ll try to truncate things a bit, but basically, Peter tries to interject, but it isn’t working. Everyone is really shaken up and reeling, and Tony’s complete refusal to defend himself isn’t making things any better. And it doesn’t take long before things get heated enough that one of the others gets in Tony’s face—angry and accusatory. (Let’s be real, it’s probably Steve. I don’t hate Steve, and it could totally be someone else, but let’s just say it’s Steve for now.) And there’s a moment of crisis where Steve reaches for Tony, probably not to hit him, but who knows for sure. And Tony, thinking he’s going to be hit, just waits for it.

But then suddenly, Peter is between them, and he pushes Steve back—not violently, but a little harder than he means to. Hard enough that Steve lands on his ass a couple of paces away. And Peter just stands there, squarely in front of Tony, like an animal defending its mate. Peter’s not even sure if Mr Stark feels for him half of what he feels for Mr Stark, but that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is the hollow, defeated, hopeless look on Mr Stark’s face, which Peter has to do something about, because he can’t bear the sight of it. So Peter stands there in front of Tony, like, Nope, we’re not doing this, I won’t let you keep doing this. And he’s either in his underwear or still naked from the waist down, but he isn’t even thinking about that. It doesn’t matter right now.

And Tony’s like, “Kid—” all croaky and awful, and tries to usher Peter back. But Peter won’t budge. He looks straight into the group of Avengers, and basically tells them as plainly as possible that he loves Tony, absolutely and without any doubt. And if they have questions, he’ll willingly answer them in a bit.

Then Peter turns to Tony, and touches him tenderly even though Peter himself is shaking. And for the first time with people around, Mr Stark touches Peter back, just a little—equally gentle and even shakier than Peter. And then, silently, Peter draws Tony back into the elevator.

After a second, Tony says, haltingly, “I don’t—where do you want to go, Pete?” And Peter says, “With you?” like it’s the simplest thing in the world, but also the least certain. So Tony tells FRIDAY to take them up to his quarters.

Gently, Peter holds Tony by the arms, front to front, and leans into him.

And for just a second as the doors close, Peter looks back at everyone in the main room. He doesn’t look angry or even challenging, but he does look determined, and strong in a way that none of them can quite define when they think about it afterwards.

END SCENE

All the details of this scene are as-yet very poorly thought out. A lot of it would probably change if I were to actually write it (and obviously a lot of elements would change if someone else did). This is just the general gist. As for who I’d want to write this scenario, or a version of this scenario with the details retooled—I’m sure it’s a surprise to no one that my first answer is Ride To Church Anon. I mean, who am I kidding, there are already elements here that are clearly inspired by both Covet and Revelations.

That said, “caught in the act” is, IMO, a massively under-used trope in this fandom, and I would love to see just about anyone’s take on this basic concept.

[letterboxd]

Obsession.

Ella Kemp dives into Letterboxd’s 100 highest-rated, obsessively rewatched films of 2020 to find out why we love them—and to give Hollywood a heads-up on what we want to rewatch again and again.

Take note, development execs: we want to watch more of everything that makes us feel alive; that makes us feel thankful to be. To bottle that feeling, and drink it up as often, and as obsessively, as we like. We also want: more singing, more dancing, more drugs, more talking animals, more of whatever Director Bong is serving—and make everything gayer.

We know this because, a few years back, the Letterboxd team asked one very simple question: what’s the highest-rated film of all time, when the criteria is that you must have seen it five or more times? Not the ‘guilty’ pleasures, not the ‘so-bad-it’s-good’ gems, but the already-excellent films that are also inherently rewatchable. The resulting top 100 from back then are all extremely, objectively good. What can we say—you have great taste.

Because 2020 is, well, 2020, we revisited this idea to see how four years and an endless quarantine might have changed things. The usual suspects have been rounded up (Christopher, Quentin, Ridley, Damien, David and company), but a lot has shifted in the Highest Rated Obsessively Rewatched Club for 2020.

The top ten in the 100 highest rated, obsessively rewatched films of 2020.

Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire is now top of the heap, where Spike Jonze’s Her was number one last time around. In fact, only Jaws and Carol remain from the last top ten. The Letterboxd community favors a wider world view: in 2017, the top 100 had only one film by a female director; in 2020 there are eight. The list has gone from exactly zero films entirely in languages other than English, to two (Portrait and Parasite), with several more containing a portion of non-English dialogue. Not quite leaping the one-inch tall barrier of subtitles, but it’s progress. And, there is substantially more LGBTQ+ representation all round.

This year’s top 100 shows that we still like to return to the idea of the auteur, and the challenge of a franchise. In 2017, Christopher Nolan was the filmmaker with the highest number of highly rated, obsessively rewatched films; in 2020 Quentin Tarantino has taken the lead, just ahead of Nolan. Joining them in the multiple-titles group are Edgar Wright, Peter Jackson, Joe and Anthony Russo, epic-scale filmmakers from whom we’ve learned so much, and whose films have more to offer the viewer on every watch. (When ratings are not part of the equation, Avengers: Endgame—still with a respectable 3.9 average—was the Most Obsessively Rewatched title of 2019. “You give me someone flying, turning invisible, super speed… that’s where I live,” explains obsessive rewatcher Max Joseph this Letterboxd interview. “In Endgame, I get a little bit of every genre and mood.”)

Obsessed with obsession

What is “obsessive”? To put some kind of parameters around the search for this year’s top 100, our team looked for the feature films that had five or more rated watches from a minimum of 150 Letterboxd members each, then we sorted that list by the ratings of those members.

But that word—“obsessive”—got me thinking. Just how obsessive are we talking here? It’s reassuring to know that Parasite is, naturally, a film we enjoy returning to, but when we’re talking about rewatches plural, what happens when we sort these 100 highly rated titles by another value: the number of diary entries logged by these obsessive members. And what would that list say about our tendencies as watchers?

Spoiler: we also pulled those numbers, and found an entirely different top ten:

The most obsessively rewatched, highest-rated films of all time, as at 2020.

Look at that image. Compare it with the inarguable cinephilia of the ratings-based top ten, which soars on critical strength. What are we seeing here? That’s not the question. The real question is: what are we feeling? What do these ten films do to us so consistently, that helps them to retain high ratings across many, many, many rewatches?

You see, in the top 100, members typically log their favorites between five and seven times—but there’s a select handful of titles that see an average of up to 24 viewings per obsessive member. You read that right. There is a film on Letterboxd that multiple obsessive members have watched 24 times or more, at the time of writing.

Comedy that never gets old

The film in question is Jemaine Clement and Taika Waititi’s What We Do in the Shadows, a genre-smart mockumentary about three vampire housemates just, well, pure vibing. It’s entirely in a league of its own, no doubt helped by a spin-off series, with the next entry, The Lonely Island’s Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping racking up an average of 17.7 rewatches per obsessive member.

These top two most obsessively rewatched titles make sense. When you’re feeling low, or when there’s some time to kill, what better place to turn than somewhere where the jokes never get old? As James writes on Letterboxd, Shadows “never fails to make me laugh”. Never fails. Taking a chance on a new comedy harbors its risks, so when you find the ones that work, you have to hold onto them like gold dust. It’s the sense of familiarity that comes from the same sharp, self-aware sketches, the endlessly quotable one-liners and screenshots that make memes feel like works of art.

(On that note, I asked the team: what were the highest-rated, obsessively rewatched comedy specials? No surprises: Bo Burnham’s masterful 2016 Netflix special Make Happy, and John Mulaney’s Kid Gorgeous at Radio City. Comedy is good when it catches you off guard—but in a pandemic, it’s even better when you can rely on it to deliver that same rush of endorphins, every time.)

Thank you for the music

Speaking of pick-me-ups, ever notice how much better you feel after karaoke? Or, when you know everyone else has gone out so you can let rip across every inch of the house with ultimate privacy? The cathartic thrill that comes from a sing-along is what keeps our obsessive members returning to musicals, increasingly. There’s comfort in memorized lyrics; the words we yell and hold dear.

You’ve got this in Popstar (‘Finest Girl’, anyone?) and, crucially, in a double-bill of jukebox musicals celebrating ABBA’s greatest hits: Mamma Mia! and Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again. With fifteen rewatches on average for the former, and almost seventeen for the latter, the sequel’s slight upper hand proves the film’s triumphant formula—there really is an endless supply of ABBA bangers—but also that the repurposing of the most pivotal tracks (‘Mamma Mia’ and ‘Waterloo’) will work even better the second time around, due to the familiarity, both of the songs and now their new-found purpose in this world.

The feeling of singing along with Lily James as Donna, as she dances around Paris with her young Harry, of latching onto Cher’s every breath as she reunites with the eponymous Fernando—these moments become part of our own memory, and the satisfaction that comes from performing them again and again never fades. It’s also why so many musicals are rewatchable staples. Singin’ in the Rain, Rocketman, Bohemian Rhapsody and Pitch Perfect all feature in the top 100.

Out of interest, I asked the team to lift the curtain on non-narrative music films to see which greats we return to. Again, zero surprise (to me, at least): Jonathan Demme’s transcendent Talking Heads concert film Stop Making Sense is, and has long been, the highest-rated, most obsessively rewatched concert documentary on Letterboxd. And it’s only been a few months, but the Disney+ filmed version of Hamilton is up there, along with Homecoming: A Film by Beyoncé. #BEYHIVE, come in.

Maybe we should trust love

At the other end of the spectrum, two titles in the most obsessively rewatched top ten point to our tendencies to find catharsis in our most extreme, most vulnerable expressions of emotion. Our two revealing films here are Love, Simon and Interstellar—one a grounded and sensitive coming-of-age picture of a teenage boy’s coming out, the other an epic space-travel thriller. Still, both films understand that, ultimately, love transcends all.

These films make room for us to revisit these most searing feelings, of love hidden, lost, afraid or universal, they let us cry out what we relate to, and escape into whichever onscreen emotions we prefer to project ourselves into beyond our own lives, time and time again. Because however much changes, you know you’ll always crave and be rewarded by love. (And by the existential exploration that often accompanies these big feelings: Don Hertzfeldt's World of Tomorrow is the highest-rated, most obsessively rewatched short film with Letterboxd members.)

Ink spots and needle drops

The idea of projection—of escape beyond our own lives—comes back often when thinking of the rewatch. But certain titles reveal how we choose to find escape in a quite literal form; observe the love for Tangled, rewatched on average ten times per obsessive member.

And then there’s Shrek 2, revisited on average 7.9 times (more on this bizarre, outstanding oddity on its own soon). The leap of faith into an animated world is one that offers a blank canvas painted over with new colors: the pastel pinks and soft peach oranges of sunset skies in Tangled, the rich purples and blues of the twinkling lights of the afterlife in Coco, the playful blue waters of Moana, with the sun giving everything a new glow. Animation works as relaxation here, clearing the mind and coloring it calmly time and time again. Elsa said it first: you can, and should, let it all go.

It is entirely probable, of course, that no Letterboxd parent is logging the Frozens—or any other animated family film, for that matter—as often as their household is actually watching them, the truth of which would completely upend this data. We know the math underpinning this whole exercise is somewhat arbitrary, but it’s an interesting starting point from which to analyze why certain things just work, again and again.

Take the oddity that is Shrek 2, deserving of its own dissection purely because of how masterfully it combines so many of the previously established elements. This film and its predecessor create so many vivid images that fit into the category of animated escapism, but music plays a major part, also. ‘Accidentally In Love’ by Counting Crows as Shrek and Fiona blissfully enjoy their honeymoon period; ‘Funky Town’ by Lipps Inc. as Shrek, Fiona and Donkey roll into Far Far Away; Jennifer Saunders as Fairy Godmother, with her sublime cover of Bonnie Tyler’s ‘Holding Out For A Hero’. There are too many perfect needle-drop moments to count, and every time the rewatch comes around, they feel new.

Add to the comforting visuals and euphoric music the countless one-liners, perfectly performed by Eddie Murphy and Mike Myers, but really, here, Rupert Everett as Prince Charming—a squirm-inducing, note-perfect pantomimic performance. Shrek 2 might just be the defining example of what makes a good movie the best movie, and one that only grows greater with every rewatch. Lucky us.

Festive fever

The inclusion of A Christmas Story, the second-last in our most rewatched top ten, makes sense when considering the times in our lives when we turn to movies for comfort (and discomfort: note the Hallowe’en-related rewatchables in the top 100). A Christmas Story might not be your first festive choice, but you will have your own equivalent. The Muppet Christmas Carol also made the top 100, with Elf, Love, Actually and the Home Alone movies bubbling under. We recognize all the beats, and seeing as the holidays return each year, it’s natural that we return to the titles that make us feel most at home within them.

Like Carol. Darling Carol. The last of our top ten most most most rewatched. Flung out of space into our eyeballs by Todd Haynes as some sort of Christmas miracle, its rewatchability as much seasonal as it is about love, representation, vintage glamor and that final scene. Let’s see where Happiest Season sits this time next year, shall we?

And so, what can filmmakers and distributors learn from what we want to see, not just once, but again and again? In just four years the list of titles the Letterboxd community has chosen to revisit and protect has blossomed with an open heart and feverishly enthusiastic mind.

Looking over the top 100 highest-rated, obsessively rewatched films in 2020, we want more queer love: Portrait, Moonlight and Carol but also Booksmart, The Favourite, Call Me by Your Name. We definitely need more singing and dancing: Suspiria, La La Land, Singin’ in the Rain, Mamma Mia and beyond.

We want more adventure, more time travel, more mind-melters, more drinking, exploring, investigating, more talking animals, more drugs, more laughs, more tears, more goosebumps. We want more full-body feelings of falling in love with a movie you know you’ll hold onto with everything you’ve got.

In the end, numbers can only tell us so much, and these numbers are drawn from what we’ve already seen, which is what’s already managed to make it through the system. There’s as much to learn from how these films were made as there is from what they’re about. Because, no matter how many AI tools people dream up to help with the green-lighting process, moviemaking is fundamentally about magic. And when all the right ingredients make it into the cauldron, the spell can be so strong that a film will win our hearts forever.

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The Highest-Rated Obsessively Rewatched Club for 2020

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[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part one) Fandom: Supernatural AU Main characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually)  Word count: ±4350 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part one: Y/N arrives at the airport, but getting to her new internship is easier said than done, when no one shows to pick her up. Meanwhile, at the ranch, Dean learns that his uncle Bobby hired a new intern and assigned her to the head wrangler, and he’s not sure how he feels about that. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘Along The Way’ - Sunday Kids (check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify!) Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @coffee-obsessed-writer and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me take this story to a higher level. 

Ride With Me Masterlist

     “This is just great…”

     After a long, turbulent flight next to a rather large and sweaty nervous flyer - who had way too much garlic for lunch, by the way - Y/N thought she was done. But now that she’s waiting outside Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport with no one in sight to pick her up, it seems that the universe isn’t going to stop toying with her just yet.

     To top it off, the weather decided to throw a curveball as well. What happened to the lovely sun rays and dry heat from the brochure? Right now it’s so humid that the fabric of her clothing clings to her skin as if it’s trying to hold on for dear life, and to make matters worse, rain begins to fall from the clouded sky. Right; monsoon season. Oh, well. At least the entrance of the arrival hall offers the traveler some shelter.

     With a sigh she sits down on her oversized suitcase, scanning her surroundings for a driver. She should have picked up something to eat in the arrival hall; she could eat a horse, as a figure of speech that is. Obviously, Y/N would never eat a horse, since she loves them more than anything. They are the reason why she touched down in Phoenix in the first place.      From the age of four, she’s been riding the majestic animals. Being on the back of a horse is one of the first memories she can recall, now that she thinks of it. When she was a little girl and was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up, the answer was always the same: she wanted to be a professional rider with her own ranch. 

     That’s the dream. No, that’s the goal.

     Despite her unconditional love for these noble creatures and an overload of motivation to execute this plan, her parents encouraged their daughter to go to college. She even got her master's degree, but truth be told, all she ever wants to do is ride. So when she graduated a few weeks ago, Y/N thought that was exactly what she was going to do from that point on. Her father wasn’t impressed with her business plan, though, and decided that he was only going to lend her the money to start up her own company if she would complete half a year of ranch work. ‘No quitting, no complaints’, is what he said.

     Clearly, he’s underestimating her, because how hard could ranch life possibly be? Sure, in the past she spent most of her time riding and not so much mucking out stables. After all, employees at the boarding facility did that for the clients. But she had insight, management skills, and other great characteristics that will help run a business. What are six months of hard labor going to contribute, besides a good waistline?

     Although she believes her father’s plan is completely unnecessary, she is going with it. Those twenty-six weeks will pass by in the blink of an eye. It’s gonna be a walk in the park. Smooth sailing, right? Except for the fact that she’s already stranded, alone, and with no clue where to go. Hopefully, the rocky flight to the desert wasn’t an omen for what is yet to come. 

    After fifteen minutes of waiting, she takes out her phone again. For a second her thumb lingers on the speed dial that would put a call through to her father, but then she looks up the number of the ranch owner in her email and calls him instead. Running back to Mom and Dad is not going to deliver the message of an independent woman who is ready for the big world. Looks like she will have to dig herself out of this mess. Arizona might not have been her Dad’s best idea, but she’s here now. Pride forbids her to give him, or all the others who are skeptical, the satisfaction of being right. 

     “Bobby, are ya gonna pick up the damn phone or what?”

     Dean sets his bottle down on the bar next to the buzzing phone. He glances at the screen, unable to identify the number, and looks up again, searching the saloon for his uncle. At the long table in the center of the lounge, the man in his mid-sixties is enjoying a game of cards and a glass of whiskey, accompanied by a few members of the crew. Bobby hasn’t heard Dean, too busy laughing over the dirty joke Ash just told. Right when his nephew is about to call out his name again, the phone on the wooden counter stops ringing. Oh well, if it’s important they will call again, right?      Even though he feels drained from last days' events, he will not let anything take away this carefree feeling. Together with Jo, Benny and a couple of regular guests, they moved the young cattle from the summer pasture up in the Superstition Mountains back to the ranch. It took two days to locate the herd, but eventually, they found them at Weaver’s Needle.      After hours spent in the saddle and camping out for several nights, they all needed a shower, a good meal and a cold beer. Bringing the cattle in is one of the highlights of the season and worth a celebration. It didn't take long before wranglers, workers and tourists gathered in the saloon to celebrate. The place hasn’t been this crowded in years and smile appears on Dean’s face as he takes it all in. An upbeat country song - that he recognizes as ‘Along The Way’ by the Sunday Kids - fills the air together with growling laughter and cigarette smoke. Cheers rise when the beer bottles are heaved into the air, overruling the sound of billiard balls colliding on the pool table. 

     He lets a sigh slip from his lips when he glances aside at Ellen, who just brought back a full tray of empty glasses. As she sets the load down on the counter to give her arms a rest, his aunt smiles, witnessing Dean’s pleased expression.

     “Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” she asks.      Dean nods, circling the bar to grab two new bottles of Corona from the cooler. “It’s a good night.”      Ellen grants her eyes another look at her saloon as she takes the beer that is handed over; she can only agree. “It sure is.”

     They toast to that and take a swig, but before Dean can swallow his drink, the phone on the counter starts ringing again. He guesses it apparently is important and calls out Bobby’s name, a little louder this time.

     “I’m in the middle of a poker game, son,” he replies, not looking up from his cards.      “Your phone’s been buzzing like crazy,” Dean notifies as he approaches the old man, noticing the pair of queens in his hand.      “Is it ringing, really? How come I can’t hear the damn thing?”      Ellen scoffs from behind the counter. “Maybe because you need to start using your God-forsaken hearing aids.”      “Woman, my ears work just fine,” he returns, continuing to mutter much softer to prevent his wife from hearing him. “I can hear you jappin’, can’t I?”

     Dean - who did pick up on his words - smirks in amusement and checks on his aunt if she really didn’t hear her husband, but when she looks from one to the other confused, he wisely keeps his mouth shut. Meanwhile, Bobby grumpily turns his cards upside down on the table surface and takes the phone. The ranch owner adjusts his worn baseball cap a little as he looks down at the screen, puzzled, obviously not sure how to work the piece of modern technology.      “How the hell do I pick up?” he wonders out loud.      “You swipe it, Dad.”

     Jo walks over, interrupting her game of pool momentarily, and leans over her father’s shoulder, still holding her cue stick. With a simple movement, she lets her finger slide across the touchscreen. Somewhat clumsily, Bobby presses the phone against his ear, letting out a hesitant ‘hello?’ as if he’s not completely sure if the little magic trick actually worked.

     “You really had to give him your old iPhone, huh?” Dean sniggers when Jo walks past him, back to the pool table to finish the game.      “Anything’s better than that old Nokia,” his cousin returns, throwing him a look as she whips her blonde hair over her shoulder. “That thing was prehistoric.”

   Dean grins at the remark and observes the game that is in motion on the green quarried slate. Jo is acing it, it’s her turn to shoot the eight-ball in already, while her opponent still has several balls on the play field. The petite blonde positions herself behind the black number eight, throwing a seducing glance at the slick-looking young man on the other side of the table. With a flirtatious sparkle in her eyes, she allows her low-cut tank top to show a little more cleavage as she bends over. It doesn’t go unnoticed with the men in her company, but unlike the guest that she’s reeling in, Dean has the urge to cover up his little cousin. It’s not just a game of pool that these youngsters are going to be playing tonight.

     “Sure you want to aim it like that?” Dean asks, amusedly waiting for her to pick up on the double meaning.      A deadly glare comes his way and his smirk reaches even wider. Not granting him another second of her time, Jo focuses on the final ball again and pockets it, winning the game. Victoriously, she holds up her hand in front of tonight’s loser, who reluctantly hands her a twenty-dollar bill. A chuckle escapes Dean’s throat and he takes another swig of the sparkling yellow brew called Corona. As he lowers the bottle, the cowboy’s attention shifts to his uncle, who is still on the phone.

     “- I’m very sorry, It’s been really hectic today with the cattle comin’ in and it slipped my mind completely.”      The apologetic tone in Bobby’s voice piques Dean’s interest. Jo joins him, leaning against the table while resting her elbows on the rails.      “Any idea what that’s about?” Dean wonders, but she shakes her head.      “- that’s no problem. I’ll send someone to pick you up right away.”

     After having made that promise, Bobby eyes his employees, then his wife and daughter, hoping that someone is sober enough to keep his obligation. It triggers Dean to check with his friend, Benny. The brawny wrangler answers the unspoken question by shaking his head, however; he’s not volunteering, and neither is Garth. The skinny stable boy now turns to Ash, catching the ranch hand peeking into Bobby’s cards while his boss is occupied, and he elbows him. Shrugging his shoulders the guy who is rocking a mullet lets out an innocent ‘what?’ under his breath. It’s obvious, though, that Ash is in no shape to drive, since he already drank half a crate of his favorite Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. It’s heading towards eleven PM and after an exhausting couple of days, no one is thrilled to drive out to Phoenix. Not to mention that the amount of liquor they’ve consumed might actually jeopardize getting the person Bobby is talking to from A to B.

     “Balls!” the boss curses after he hangs up.      “Forgot somethin’?” Ellen assumes from what she picked up, as she continues to polish a glass behind the bar.      “Yeah, that new intern from Maine,” he mutters as he gets up.      Ellen’s jaw drops, staring at her husband in shock. “You didn’t! That poor gal is at the airport right now?”      “Landed forty-five minutes ago,” Bobby admits, embarrassed.

     “Whoa, wait! New intern?” Dean’s eyes slide from Bobby to Ellen and back, unable to follow.      “Did I forget to mention that? She’ll be under your supervision,” Bobby breaks to him.      “What? I wasn’t even notified?!” he exclaims, his voice pitching a little higher than he anticipated.      “Oh, don’t be such a drama queen,” Jo scoffs, placing her hand on her hip as she looks at him sideways. “Like you would mind a chick working under you.”

     Stunned by her bold comment, Dean cocks his head back as he stares at her wide-eyed; she’s got some nerve! He is about to counter when Jo’s mother already intervenes.      “Joanna Beth!” she warns.      “Oh, come on. It’s the truth, ain’t it?” her daughter mumbles, stubborn as ever.      Ellen doesn’t answer. Instead, her attention shifts to the man who is moving towards the double doors. “And where do you think you’re going?”      Bobby turns around, a confused furrow on his forehead. “Well, to pick up the gal, of course,” he returns, stating the obvious.      “Like hell you are! You had three glasses of whiskey, Robert Singer. You ain’t getting behind the wheel and that’s that,” Ellen decides with her shoulders back, arms crossed and eyes stern.

     Annoyed, but smart enough not to fight the strong-minded woman he married thirty years ago, he addresses Dean with a hopeful look.      “Don’t look at me, this is my fourth beer,” he returns, holding his hand up innocently.      “Same here, boss,” Benny copies, his southern accent thick on his voice.

      “I’ll go.” Jo straightens her back and takes her cowboy hat from the corner of the pool table.      “You sure, honey?” her mother checks with her.      “I had one drink, Mom. You’re not gonna find a more sober person on the ranch at this hour,” she claims bored. “Keys?”      That last demand was meant for Dean.      “Keys to what?” he questions, furrowing his brow.      An eye roll, a sigh. Jo’s typical routine when she’s done with her cousin. “Your car, asshat.”      “What’s wrong with yours?”      “I have a flat. Now, are you gonna hand me the keys, or what?” she says smartly.

    Jo holds up her hand and with a reluctant grunt, Dean tosses the keys of his precious ‘67 Chevrolet El Camino pickup. Skillfully she catches it, beams at him in triumph, and makes her way to the double doors.      “If I find a scratch on her, I’ll make you regret it!” he shouts, loud enough for her to hear.      “I’d like to see you try!” she scoffs.

     A few moments later, the V8 big block under the hood of his beloved car starts up. Jo doesn’t even bother to warm up his baby before she races down the dirt road towards the big city down in the valley, skitting gravel from under the tires. Dean cringes when he hears her take off; someone’s gonna pay for that.

      He will deal with her when she gets back. Until that time Dean settles down at the long table, watching the poker game. Obviously, Ash folds the moment Bobby raises the stakes, leaving the ranch owner with fewer chips than he hoped to win.      “Can I talk to you for a second?” Dean requests before Garth starts dealing the cards.

     Bobby looks at his nephew from under his cap, observing him for a moment. He knows that kid. He spent a few years of his childhood on the ranch and the young man has been working here since the age of fourteen. The boy is like a son to him, so no wonder he can read Dean like a book. Something is bothering the wrangler, and so he gets off his chair and moves away from the crowded table. Shadowed by the cowboy, Bobby heads towards the corner of the bar, seeking a little privacy. They sit down on the bar stools, facing Ellen on the other side of the counter. Her husband doesn’t bother asking her to pour him a drink, because she is on it before he barely has the chance to settle in his seat.

     “Here you go, boys.” She puts down the filled whiskey tumblers on the varnished wood.      Dean thanks her and takes the glass in his hand, clanking it into Bobby’s, who mutters ‘cheers’ as he does so. After watching Ellen enter the kitchen, the older man shifts his gaze to the man accompanying him.      “What’s on your mind, son?” he asks.

     Dean adjusts himself a little, preparing for the upcoming conversation. He doesn’t like to question his uncle, who also happens to be his boss. This is the part where it gets tricky to keep work and family separated. He has to speak up, though, because lately, he has the oppressive feeling that Bobby might not trust him entirely when it regards the management of the ranch. Obviously, the owner calls the shots, but he used to involve Dean whenever decisions needed to be made. It’s bothering him and he needs to get it off his chest.      “Why didn’t you tell me you hired an intern?” he wonders.

     Bobby grunts softly, averting his eyes to his drink as he circles the tumbler  on its edge. He knew this talk was coming and instantly regrets keeping Dean in the dark about recent developments. His nephew is an exceptional horseman, loyal to his family, a trustworthy worker. A little relentless when it comes to risks and danger, and yes, an impulsive womanizer, but there’s one thing he isn’t and that’s stupid. He’s Bobby’s right hand for a reason, he should have known he would pick up on something.

     “Because I knew you wouldn’t approve,” he admits, taking a sip.      Dean scoffs at that. “If you knew I wouldn’t be okay with it, why did you hire her?”      “Because she’s free help, Dean.”      “Is she any good? Did you look into her?” His head wrangler eyes him, trying to make out how thorough he has been in his research.      It doesn’t take long before his uncle’s guilty expression gives it away.     “You didn’t even interview her, did ya? You just said ‘yes’? Look, I know things have been a little difficult since Gabriel left, but we’re managing fine now,” he assures him. “Educating a wannabe cowgirl is actually gonna cost me valuable time and there’s a lot of shit that needs sortin’. We have to bring in the two-year-old stallions, the calves need branding, the young stock has to be moved to the winter pastures--”      Bobby interrupts Dean’s ramble by holding up his hand to shush him, intervening the moment he has an opening. “You don’t have to worry about the young stock, I’m selling it.”      Stunned, Dean stares at him. And when was Bobby planning to tell him this?      “Why the hell would you do that?” he questions, unpleasantly surprised.        Before his boss can answer, Dean can make an estimated guess already. The concerned look in Bobby’s eyes when they meet his green ones confirms it; money is tight, very tight. The crisis has laid the ranch in a thick suffocating smog of debt and so far it doesn’t look like the air is going to clear anytime soon. Hay prices are sky high while their stock sells for half the price they used to go for. It has been hard to keep their heads above water, but so far they’ve been able to ride out the economic recession, so Dean thought. But now that Bobby’s telling him that the one-year-old cattle has to go, it dawns on him how serious the situation is. 

      His jaw clenches as he observes the ice in his glass for a moment, pondering in silence. And just like that, the careless happiness he was experiencing a moment ago, is gone.      “You wanna sell all of them? Or just the steers?” he checks.      “All of them,” Bobby sighs, downing his drink.       “How you wanna handle that next year? Buy in again? It’s gonna cost you a lot,” Dean responds, trying to think of another way.      “Right now, all we need to worry about is surviving this year, son.” Bobby pauses, now comes the bit that he wanted to avoid. Drastic measures are necessary for the survival of their home. Maybe the term ‘sacrifice’ is a better way to describe what he’s about to announce. “That’s why I need you to let one of the wranglers go.”      Shocked, Dean stares at the man in his company. Not looking him in the eye, Bobby forks his fingers together, resting his elbows on the counter.      “You want me to fire one of my men?” Dean recaps in disbelief. “No, let me correct that, you want me to fire one of my friends?”      “What you do with your colleagues in your spare time should not influence a layoff,” the ranch owner counters.      But his nephew disagrees strongly. “That’s bullshit and you know it. These guys are practically family, Bobby.”      “You think I don’t know that, boy? I ain’t happy about it either, damn it! You think I’m proud of having to send one of those guys home?”

     He nods at the workers, who are laughing loudly as Ash folds his tattooed arms around the mountain of chips that are stacked on the table, reeling in the win. Neither he, Benny, or Garth have a clue what is hanging over their heads, but it’s probably better that way. Only now does the head wrangler understand why Bobby didn’t tell him before. The poor man simply didn’t want to burden him.

     “I have to. For the future of this place, Dean. And I wish I didn’t have to ask you to do this, but you know your crew best. You know who’s most needed and who we can miss,” Bobby explains with empathy.      Dean wants to fight this, he wants to object and argue in every way possible. Who he can miss? He can’t miss any of his men. Shit, after they let Gabe go, they were barely able to round up the daily routine before dinner. But he knows how this works and he knows Bobby would do anything to make sure that the boys can keep their jobs. There is no right or wrong answer here, every option behind any door is a bad one. There’s nothing the boss can do about it and Dean understands that.      “I know. I’ll handle it. Just give me a couple of days and I’ll let you know,” he assures, patting his uncle on the shoulder.    Bobby nods, but is unable to break a smile. He’s carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders, go figure when you have to play God like that. It’s exactly the reason why Dean took on the task to fire one of the workers, hoping that it would relieve his surrogate father a bit.

     “I need another drink,” Bobby mutters, reaching for the Jack Daniels behind the counter.      Dean checks on his uncle from the corner of his eye, but then puts his glass down next to his. “You and me both. That intern better be good. Do you know anything about her?”      “I know she’s a reining rider, pretty damn talented too. Not much experience in ranch work, though,” the ranch owner tells him.       “Blonde? Brunette? Cute?” Dean smirks as he fishes for more information, but Bobby doesn’t reply with a straight answer.      “Oh, hell no. Not under my roof,” his father figure decides, having seen this play out numerous times already. “She’s staying for six months so tie a knot in it and keep it in your pants for once.”

     “If she sticks around that long.” The young man scoffs, triggering Bobby to glare at him. “What? We had plenty who went home crying within a week. This work ain’t for everyone.”      “I know you’re not happy with the situation, but do me a favor and just give her a chance, will ya?” Bobby pressures. “She seemed like a go-getter. She might surprise you.”      “Maybe. We’ll see,” Dean downs his glass and slides off his stool.

     Bobby watches his nephew walk away from him. It takes only a second before the charismatic cowboy put on his poker face, just in time, because Garth signals him to come over. So he does, but his next step shows a hint of hesitation. He turns on the heels of his boots, the thumb of his left hand casually hooked behind his belt buckle.      “What’s her name?” Dean asks, narrowing his eyes a little.      Bobby huffs and casts his gaze at him. “Her name is Y/N,” he states. “Y/N L/N.”

     Dean raises his brow, nodding satisfied. Y/N. Sounds good, has a nice ring to it. Curious he imagines what kind of person would fit a name like that and as a perky smile starts to form on his lips, he joins the guys.

     Bobby can spot the up-to-no-good sparkle in his nephew’s green eyes and he can’t help but smile into his refilled glass of Jack. He can point a parenting finger at Dean all he wants, but if this intern is his type, he’s going to charm her right into his bed like he has done with so many women already. Oh, well. We’ve all been young, he thinks to himself. Dean being a wrangler only stacks up the number of girls dwelling at the pretty boy’s feet and he never failed to take full advantage of that. Who can blame him, really? He hasn’t committed to anyone yet, why not make the best of it? It has cost the ranch owner some money, though, since a client or two never returned after getting their hearts broken. The boy better listen this time.

     For a moment he takes in what’s playing before his eyes. His wife having a good conversation with a group of guests, the crew gathered around the long table where Ash just revealed a full house, causing the men to go out of their minds. It’s a nice moment that will make a great memory. Bobby can only hope that those moments keep coming, because no matter how precious, no man can live on memories alone.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part two here

[a-silent-symphony]

Metal behemoths Nightwish: “David Attenborough wrote to personally decline appearing on our album”

The arena-filling group's golden-lunged singer Floor Jansen talks album nine, Swedish lockdown and why the world's greatest conservationist turned them down

With the exception of maybe Rammstein – and we’re only quantifying this statement because they own flamethrowers and we do not – no band in European metal can rival Nightwish for their popularity in mainland Europe.

Formed in Kitee, Finland in 1996 by top hat-wearing keyboard player Tuomas Holopainen, the band welcomed Dutch-born singer Floor Jansen in 2012, by which point they were seven records into their career. The addition has seen the symphonic metal band become bigger, grander, more expressive and increasingly ambitious. She’s such a force that she’s become a Dutch TV personality, appearing on the musical talent showcase Best Zangers.

Their recent ninth record, the infuriatingly stylised ‘Human. :II: Nature.’, is their first double-release, the second half featuring lush orchestral music over the band’s core metal. Listen to album highlights ‘Harvest’, ‘How’s The Heart?’ and ‘Noises’ – rarely has a modern metal band’s music been infused with such power and glory. Tellingly, despite being released within the very centre of storm COVID-19, the record entered the charts of Finland, Spain, Switzerland and Germany at Number One.

With that in mind, we decided to check in with one of Europe’s favourite heavy metal bands. Your guide for the duration will be Floor Jansen and her massive lungs. She will roar and you will quiver…

Hello Floor. Can I tell you what I really like about the new Nightwish album? There’s so much misery and ugliness everywhere right now, and yet your record is so ornate, grandiose and – dare I say it – hopeful…

“We were definitely going for that. There are so many different instruments on the record and so many different parts. Nightwish is quite complex music, really, and so it was important for us to have real emotion in the songs; something that cut through everything. The dynamics were really important to us. The songs needed space. Sometimes what you don’t put into a song is as important as what you do. There are nine songs on this record and eight orchestral suites. Without dynamics it would have been a very relentless listen.”

Can we go way back? I don’t think it’s any exaggeration to say that your voice is properly, brilliantly amazing. When did you realise you could sing like that?

“I guess when I was a teenager. There was a school production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat and I auditioned. I didn’t get a very important part in it. You know how it is – the popular kids get all the best parts and that wasn’t me. But even just being stuck in the background, I absolutely loved it. I didn’t know I was any good, though. I was pretty badly teased at school, so my confidence was quite low.”

Do you want us to fuck someone up? Why were you teased?

“I was taller than everyone else and my dialect was different. I was just… different.”

Do you think that experience has had any lasting impact on you?

“I do… but, to be honest, only really positively. I can’t say I look back fondly at those years and certainly not at the people who were doing that, but I do think I stand on more stable legs in adulthood because of it. I don’t want my daughter [three-year-old Freja] to have to go through that, though.”

Do you ever have the classic revenge scenario where you’re standing onstage in front of thousands and thousands of people screaming your name and think, ‘Well, I won, didn’t I?’

“All the time. Especially now I’m on this Dutch TV show that has really increased my popularity in the Netherlands. I sometimes wonder if those people would even remember me and I don’t spend that much time thinking about them. You have to live for yourself – I’m almost 40, y’know!”

Tell me more about the TV show. I love the name! Beste Zangers!

“It translates as Best Singers! It’s not a contest or anything like that. It’s a collection of singers of different styles and backgrounds who sing each other’s music to one another, or collaborate on cover versions of songs that have inspired us. It’s a really nice show, and all about a love of music. It’s prime-time Saturday night television and it’s completely changed my life! It’s really benefited Nightwish too. We were already doing well in Holland and playing arenas, butt it’s definitely increased our profile, which is brilliant for me after 24 of nobody in my home country paying me any attention!”

The new Nightwish record was released on April 10, making you one of a tiny number of bands who can attest to the realities of releasing an album at the epicentre of a global pandemic. How has that been?

“We were one of the very first bands who had to cancel a tour. We were actually supposed to start in China. I should be there right now. Very early on we realised that the tour wasn’t going to happen, even though the illness was at that point contained in one continent. Then the global fuck-up that resulted in an illness becoming a pandemic happened. I still can’t believe that it has happened, really. It feels so incredibly unnecessary…”

I’m detecting you have an opinion about how this has all played out? You live in Sweden, right?

“I do. I emigrated five years ago, from Holland.”

Sweden’s approach to handling the virus has been very liberal – there’s been no mass lockdown, as there has been in elsewhere in the world. Do you think they took the right approach?”

“Partly. At the same time, I’m not a scientist, so what do I know? It’s all about following the science.”

I’d like to remind you that there’s a species of beetle named after you. Last year scientist Andreas Weigel named the newly discovered insect Tmesisternus floorjansenae. It’s fair to say you have more scientific credibility than almost any other heavy metal singer…

“Okay – well, in lots of ways the Swedish approach makes sense to me. Sweden is a big country with not that many people. It makes sense to me that the approach would be different to in the UK or back in Holland. Then again, a big city is a big city, whether it’s in Sweden or anywhere, and if people from the cities start moving away then I think we have to be careful. During Easter there were people everywhere near where I live, on the Gothenburg side of the country, next to the sea. Sweden is a big enough country that there’s enough space for people not to be locked down – but you head to a touristy place anyway? That I don’t get. It’s stupid.”

Speaking of space – you’re married to Hannes Van Dahl, the drummer in military history obsessed, Swedish metal titans Sabaton. Onstage he plays his drums sat inside the cockpit of a tank. I presume you have badass military stuff lying all around your house?

“Oh, everywhere. All over the house.”

Really?

“No!”

I heard that you have horses, though. It doesn’t seem fair to me that you’re allowed to have horses, but your husband can’t have a battleship in the garden…

“Oh, he doesn’t mind. Horses are nicer than war. I have two – Lily, named so after my mum, and Auri, named after my bandmates’ Tuomas [Holopainen] and Troy [Donockley]’s side project – and also a character from The Kingkiller Chronicle series of fantasy novels by Patrick Rothfuss.”

I think it’s fair to say that you’re not the only member of Nightwish that bloody loves nature. The band just teamed up with the conservation charity the World Land Trust. Tell me about that…

“They’re a great organisation. The video for the last song on the album, ‘Ad Astra’, was filmed in conjunction with them. They work to preserve our planet by buying up areas of land and preserving them. I think it’s hypocritical that we’re telling Brazil that they need to save their rainforest when European’s have absolutely decimated their own. But at the same time, we really do need to save the rainforest or we’re facing a climate crisis. The World Land Trust works with governments to find alternative financial outlets for local people to stop logging and deforestation. You can’t just say to people, ‘Stop doing this’. You need to consider the human impact, then the environmental one. We found out about them via David Attenborough being a patron…”

Please tell me he’s a fan…

“We tried to get him to speak on the album. We wrote him a letter and he wrote one back, declining, but it was very impressive that a man of his stature would write personally to us and explain that he just didn’t have the time right now.”

You can’t like all animals, Floor. There must be one you’d like to see eradicated from the face of the earth…

“No! I love all of them. I love cats. I love dogs. I love birds in all their splendour!”

C’mon…

“Okay, okay… I don’t really like snails. We grow vegetables and they eat my crops. They’re disgusting. I don’t wish them death, though! I just wish they’d go somewhere else!”

[cyclone-rachel]

rest your soul and feed your brain

part 3: on AO3 here

~

The camera turns on, showing Winn- just Winn, for once. He’s staring at where the audience would be, with an expression in his eyes that could be considered haunted, or perhaps bewildered. His eyes are wide, certainly, and he’s leaning slightly over the desk, hands out in front of him, held in a sort of tented position. He seems to be waiting for someone, his lips pursed, and he stands and looks at someone slightly off to the side.

“James? Are you getting this?” he asks.

James nods, and focuses the camera on him closer, as Winn sits down again.

His voice is hushed, as he continues.

“Hey. Okay, so… I probably shouldn’t be doing this. If he finds out, he might kill me, and get James to take over for me- even though all the comments talk about how funny I am, or how much I do my research. Well, actually, they give me long lists of nitpicks and corrections on the subject of my research, and they say how funny it is when I scream, or make dirty jokes. Even though me screaming is completely normal for the kind of thing I’m doing here, and I actually don’t make that many dirty jokes. They’re not that dirty anyway. Whatever.

The point is… this is about… I’m investigating Brainy. My partner- not that way. Even though he is cute, and I am very bisexual. He’s like a young Keanu Reeves, in how he looks- it’s actually kind of freaky, looking at them side by side. But in a nice way. Anyhow, you already know what he looks like, because we’re friends, and we do this show every week for you guys.”

Winn pauses, looking up at James, expression cautious. He turns back to the camera.

“I might not actually release this. Or it could go up on our Patreon page, and I would just have to make sure he doesn’t see it, or put it under an unassuming title so he doesn’t suspect anything and doesn’t want to click on it. He already doesn’t check anything on our computer anyway, I’ve never seen him use it, but somehow he still knows all the statistics of our videos, so I feel like I could get away with that. Maybe something about sex tapes, it’s really funny the reaction that gets whenever I bring them up. Anyway. If I do release this, it’s going to be because I feel like you all should know something about Brainy. Something I want to say I’ve suspected all along, given how much I already liked researching this kind of stuff, but embarrassingly enough, I’ve only started putting the pieces together recently.

Wow, I’m delaying this a lot. I’m sorry- to the audience, and to myself. Maybe I’m not saying it because I don’t feel like I can? Like if I do say it, he’ll hear, and he’ll find me. I don’t think he would hurt me if he found out I was doing this. After all, we are friends. Or at least, I hope we still are. I don’t know. Maybe this is the last recording I’ll ever do, and he’ll find this, and he’ll leave. I… don’t want to lose him, as much of a know-it-all as he is. I’m the believer, I need my skeptic, you know? That’s just how things should be. It’s the natural dynamic, and without it, we’d lose viewers. I would lose viewers. So maybe I won’t put this up online. But if I do, and we keep going… assume he hasn’t found it, or that he’s okay with it.

Maybe I just don’t want to admit it out loud, because it’ll make me sound insane. Like I’m headed for a downward spiral, like my dad- except instead of taking my anger out on the partner who stole my patent, and ending up killing people who weren’t him instead, I’ll be the conspiracy theory guy who got too obsessed with what he was so interested in, and it’ll end up ruining my friendship with… with one of the only people who really knows me well, and gets me. Or at least I thought he did.

Do I hate Brainy, for hiding so much? Am I angry at him, because he keeps so many secrets? I don’t think so. I’m not. I’m just… well, can you blame me for being interested, and maybe a little bit suspicious? That’s the only name he’s ever given me, to tell me to call him. He started emailing me, after I put up the video asking for people to do that if they wanted to host this show with me, and almost too quickly- within the day, actually, once I’d made sure he wasn’t an axe-murderer or any other kind of murderer, like my dad, and that he genuinely wanted to do this with me and didn’t want to make fun of my videos, he was there for the interview. And then he was hired, after I said something about tomatoes being fruits, and he insisted on them being vegetables, and we argued about it for like an hour. Actually fun times, believe it or not.

He’s never told me where he lives, or where he grew up, or how old he is, other than I know that he’s around my age and his birthday is December 30th. I remember because it’s 5 days after mine, and I saw him circle it on the calendar once. I know he was homeschooled, but he never gave any details on that, and for how long he was homeschooled. He doesn’t have any siblings. His parents raised him together until he was eight years old, when they separated and his father raised him. He hasn’t said anything about what happened afterwards, or where his mother went, or anything else about his life- he changes the subject, asking about my family instead, and whenever he’s admitted these things to me he always looks at me like he’s being held at gunpoint while saying them, even though I honestly want to know because he’s just so goddamn mysterious. And you all know how much of a difficult subject my family is for me. But for his credit, he listens, and it’s kind of nice.

Oh god, I’m rambling. But I have a point with this, I promise.

I don’t doubt that Brainy is a good person. I don’t doubt that he likes me- or at least, doesn’t hate me. He hasn’t left me, which is a virtue all on its own, and he listens to me, with- it feels like he understands me, whenever I talk about my parents and describe how their abandonment felt. What it was like to see my dad arrested, to be interrogated about his murder and under constant scrutiny afterwards from my foster families because at any time I could snap and become just like him. How it felt to sit in the police station, waiting for my mother, but she never came back for me.

Maybe this is why I won’t release this video. I’ve only ever told him that, and I’ve tried not to tell anyone that my father is Winslow Schott, the notorious Toyman. I even use my nickname, Winn, and my mom’s maiden name, McGowan, for these videos… but I know I’m still a Schott, and that potential is inside me. Like a ticking time bomb.”

Winn sighs.

“I hope I’m not turning out like him. I want to think I’m using whatever I got from my father for good- though I can’t really tell whether or not this is a good use for the skills I do have. And maybe this, what happens if Brainy finds out, will be the nail in the coffin for me. What sets me down the path to becoming the Toyman, just like my dad.

I don’t want to.

But… if anyone from the future is listening, consider this the secret origin story of… something. The play that was never released, the first edition book that’s different from all the others, the action figure that was recalled for a defect, the hidden Easter egg in a video game or the comic that only ever got one printing or the unaired pilot of a TV show or a movie that never even made it to DVD. I think this metaphor ran away from me. Point is. If you’re seeing this, count yourself lucky, because you’re one of a few- if anyone other than James and I see this at all.”

Winn pauses again, turns to James.

“You’re not gonna leak this on Youtube, are you?”

“No.”

“Good man.” Winn says. “Thank you.”

He turns back to the camera, and continues talking, all the while also continuing to gesture with his hands, as though he were truly in a living, animated conversation with the audience.

“And keep in mind, I don’t say all of this stuff because I want his career to be ruined, or because I’m jealous of him, or anything. I just think he’s so… I’ve already used the words interesting, and suspicious, and mysterious, and cute. He’s all of those things, but he transcends description. He’s a walking enigma, and I wish I were worthy of knowing his secrets.

He’s my friend, and I can’t help noticing things like… well. He always wakes up earlier than I do. That’s probably because I always stay up late. But one time, I woke up first, and saw him get up out of bed. And he… I don’t know how to say this. He touched his face, and it- shifted? And I don’t think it was the light coming in from outside- I swear to you, his face looked blue. All of him did. He touched it again, and he looked like he always does otherwise, but I’ve never forgotten that. It might’ve been an early-morning dream kind of thing, like when you’re half asleep and half-awake. But it felt real.

And then there’s things like what I mentioned before- he always seems to know exactly what our statistics are, even though I’ve never seen him use our computer. Any kind of technical problem, he fixes it- without even moving, or touching it. Most of the time I don’t even have to ask him, he just knows. Knows everything. Comes in real handy, can’t say I’m not grateful, but also…

Oh! Also, one time, I caught him sitting on the roof of our trailer, and when I called his name, he jumped down- but it was slower, somehow, than normal jumping. Like he was kind of… not flying. But hovering, maybe. Or falling with style. But whatever it is, I couldn’t have done it. And I’ve tried to scare him, since then, and make him jump. Hasn’t worked, but I’m gonna keep trying, mark my words.”

“Marking them.” Calls James, and Winn rolls his eyes.

“Anyway. All of these things… and the fact that because he’s only introduced himself by his pretentious nickname, and never given me his real name- God knows I’ve tried to find it- I can’t look him up in any way and verify that he exists- I don’t know how to explain them. I want to- that’s the whole point of this show, solving the unsolvable, explaining the unexplainable, playfully arguing with each other along the way, sometimes scaring the shit out of each other but mostly just enjoying each other’s company. But the two first things are the most important, and how am I supposed to call myself a good solver of mysteries if I can’t come to a solid conclusion on the person who’s probably my best friend? Besides you, James.”

“Thank you.”

“And Kara and Alex, back home. But they’re not gonna see this. Probably. That doesn’t matter. Point is… the whole idea of this long, twisting rant… I have reason to believe that my collaborator, my partner, my friend, Brainy… isn’t human. And I don’t know what he is, exactly, or who he is, or where he’s from. He could be the Mothman. He could be what he calls a Necrofriggian. He could be any of the other cryptids I totally did my research on and didn’t just see while watching shows about them on TV, or reading Wikipedia entries. Or- and this is the most absurd one- he might even be from another planet. Is he an alien, or a cryptid? Or is he just a completely normal guy who’s fucking with me, and I’m the one who’s talking myself in circles over nothing? Whatever the case, it looks like the impenetrable identity of my cohost is, for now, a case that’s going to remain-“

“Winn? Why are you recording an episode without me? What’s this about?”

“Oh shi-“

“James, turn that off, please.”

[damianalbarn]

Guns. Vagrancy. Fear of Prawns.

Has Blur's Graham Coxon lost the plot ?

NME : Aren't you a bit old for this skateboarding lark ?

"I'm probably a bit old for a lot of things I do and for lots of ways I feel. I don't think you're ever too old, contrary to what Luke Haines might think. He's far too young to be going on like he does. He said something very boring about me being as charismatic as a sick pet in a car."

What are the best and worst things about fatherhood ?

"The worst things are becoming worried about your child's safety and whether you're being a good parent. Those awful adverts on TV - 'This car is going 35mph, if it was going 30, it would've stopped here'. It's very upsetting because you immediately put your child in the position of this dummy-toddler.

"The best is when they're asleep. And now she holds out her hand so you can help her walk along. I suppose it's the things where you feel needed by them that make you happiest. I can walk down the road with her, holding her hand. She's like a little chimp but with blonde hair."

Are you squeamish ?

"I'm squeamish about seafood. I can't pull the heads off shrimps and things like that ; get me fingers all mucky in their eggs and peel the armour off. I dont like that. And there are some of those skate videos with people dropping from great heights onto their groins. There was a great one where this guy was doing a rail slide and he lands on his eye. They filmed him going to hospital and having this big vacuumy type thing washing it out then this great big syringe needle being stuck in the middle of it."

Which reality game show would you win ?

"Big Brother, easy. I'd have a guitar with me but I wouldn't fucking use it. I couldnt be arsed being on Survivor. If I cant pull the heads off shrimps, I wouldnt last a second on that. It'd be the lack of privacy I couldn't deal with, and no TV."

What would have to happen to make you move out of Camden ?

"If the river (Thames) moved north of it. Nothing against south London at all, but Camden isnt there, is it ? Or I suppose if Luke (Haines) moved there."

Who's the most fun : Sober Graham or Drunk Graham ?

"I think I'm quite fun for a while when I'm a bit drunk but often quite scary because I do get over-excited and gravitate toward speeding cars. I'm only probably more fun when I'm sober because I'm a happier person and not so flacky. I'm really badly flacky when i drink, which i really hate in others. I really love the mornings and i can only enjoy those when i'm not drinking. I get dreadful hangovers. I can't even move my eyeballs so i'm just staring at a section of the ceiling for hours with these inner hallucinations of death and insanity leaping around my pysche. I get obsessed with death and insanity."

Are you pissed off with Gorillaz becoming more popular than Blur ?

"No i'm not, although i'd like to know who's buying Gorillaz. But it's good because it's Damon's. He's doing what he wants to do. I think it's obviously going to be more popular than Blur stuff because it's of a substandard nature to Blur stuff. The music is pretty good but the more popular a thing is in this country, the more rubbish it is. It'd be best if people listened to simpler music, stuff that resonates more soulfully. I've seen the way my baby reacts to pop music, Steps-y type music, but it's an automaton reaction. But Shirley Collins ('60s folk singer) or the odd Steeleye Span record, it makes her smile and lighten up. Pop music now just pushes buttons. It's made of plastic, not wood ; it isn't real music. Good music isn't anything to do with commerce. Bad music is all to do with commerce."

Who or what is the "scum" you'd like "washed from the street" on 'Thank God for the Rain' on your new album, 'Crow sit in blood tree' ?

"I kind of wanted to make a social comment in a kind of protesty type song but l wanted to make the lyrics about things I've experienced around Camden. The scum are the people who are fucking pushing drugs to everybody who walks past them on the street corners, I hate them. And the people who spit on the floor and have such a huge amount of disrespect for everything that it brings general quality of life down. The four year old trying to kick your door down because you didn't give him a quid at Halloween. I'm gonna put turrets up on my house, put some guns up there, loads of trip-wires and a moat might be good, some of those lovely Dobermans. You instantly see so many more scumbags when you have a baby. Millions of them ! You need Robocop !"

Do you have any phobias ?'

"I used to not be able to walk up Parkway (busy Camden thoroughfare). I'd completely avoid it because I thought people would be making comments about me. I suppose that's what comes with being a slightly recognisable figure around here, you wonder what people are gonna be saying. I'm over that, but I'm very phobic about knives and violence. If I'm ever having any sleepless or restless nights it's usually something to do with dreams of violence."

Have you ever killed an animal for fun?

"Yeah, ants. I was a kid and I was watching some ants do their thing. I was about eight and I was fascinated by watching them doing what they were doing. Then suddenly I thought they shouldn't be allowed to do what they were doing because it was far too weird. So i decided i'd get a kettle full of hot water and pour it down their nest and stamp on them. It wasn't a pleasure, it was a duty. It was painful to do it but i had to, otherwise they'd take over the world. And i put a safety pin in a caterpillar once. All its blood was black."

If you were Prime Minister, what would you do ?

"Change the national anthem to nothing. I don't like nationnality. I hate being in cabs with St George crosses everywhere and some gobshite in the front who wants to spout his bigotry all over your face. I'd lock them all up until they grew up. Bigots and pop music fans, i'd lock them all up."

What was the last romantic thing you did ?

"Dressing up in really, really ancient work jeans, a really, really ancient valuable grandad shirt and some really old braces. Then i went to a roadside, covered myself in dirt and tried to hitch a lift. I sort of like the idea of vagrancy ; i think that's kind of romantic. For a second i felt like some itinerant folk hero. It was near Dungeness. It'd been a very long day and i'd been driving and i thought 'There's no way i' driving back to London', so i parked my car up, covered myself in dirt and thought i'd hitch a lift. Dirt is very romantic. No one picked me up. I was very close to a golf club and there were lots of people staring and they went past in their Range Rovers. I looked like i'd just appeared from out of the 1920s."

Are you good in bed ?

"Absolutely. Not. I'm very good at sleeping. I go to sleep very quick. I don't know about shagging. I can be good, i can be awful. I think i'm quite selfless."

Radiohead : art or arse ?

"That's art innit ?"

-Graham Coxon, NME, July 2001

[wickedsingularity]

Fine. I’ll Kiss You, Doctor. [drabble]

wickedsingularity’s Christmas Stories 2018 Masterlist

Fandom: Star Trek Pairings/characters: Leonard McCoy x reader (but not really), Nyota Uhura-cameo, mention of Jim Kirk and Spock Words: 1245 Warnings: Kissing, grumpiness, mention of the Kamraazite flu, insults

Prompt/summary: Prompt/idea given me by @iguess-theyre-mymess​. New Year’s Eve on Archer IV. Everyone is obsessed with the old Earth tradition of kissing someone at midnight. I don’t really wanna kiss any of these people, but that grumpy doctor happens to stand next to me at midnight, so why not.

This kissing someone at midnight was a stupid tradition better left in the past. But I still looked around the room for the millionth time, wondering if there was anyone I'd like to kiss. And there were still none. If I had to, just to kiss someone, I'd take Jim, the lesser of all evils, but he was engaged to one of my friends, and was most likely going to kiss her.

I swivelled my chair back around to face the bar and a glass of Saurian brandy. I lifted the glass to my lips and took a long sip, feeling the burn down my throat. Impromptu shore leave on Archer IV was nice, but I'd rather be out there continuing the study of the animal life that I'd only read about at the Academy. There were some nocturnal marsupials here that I could be looking up right now.

The reason we were orbiting Archer IV wasn't really shore-leave, but the Captain had some diplomatic thing or other to attend, and we were changing some crew members around. It so happened to be Earth's New Year's Eve during this time, and the Chief Medical Officer had made the Captain grant shore leave for two days.

"Lieutenant," a gruff voice suddenly said.

I looked to my left and saw the very same Chief Medical Officer that had requested this little respite. "Doctor." I was not exactly on good terms with Doctor Leonard McCoy. My first week on Enterprise, I had unknowingly brought Kamaraazite flu onboard, infecting a large number of the crew before the good doctor managed to get it under control. That didn't exactly earn me any stars in his book.

"Enjoying the party?" he asked and signalled for the Betazoid bartender to fill up his glass.

I eyed him sideways. Doctor McCoy making small talk with me? What if I gave him some nasty disease? He, of course, had also caught the Kamaraazite flu from me. "It's okay. The drink is good."

He made a sound of agreement. The bartender filled up his glass, and McCoy nodded in thanks before swallowing down half the contents. "The drink is good," he mirrored.

"I thought you'd have more fun," I said. "Weren't you the one who requested we get shore leave?"

"Who says I'm not having fun?" he snapped as if I'd insulted his mother, grandmother and great-grandmother all at once.

"Excuse me then." I turned my head away from him and looked down the bar. Uhura was there, ordering a few drinks.

"Midnight soon," she said and winked.

I nodded and forced a smile. "Give Spock my best." This obsession with kissing someone at midnight was ridiculous. Humanity had outgrown a lot of its weaknesses, but in my opinion, there were a few things left to work on.

As if he had read my mind, McCoy spoke on my other side again. "You got someone to kiss at midnight?"

I resisted raising my eyebrows. That was none of his business! "Haven't found anyone up to my standards," I replied and rolled the brandy around in my glass.

McCoy just grunted and checked his comm. "Ten minutes left. Better hurry up and lower your standards."

"Do you have someone to kiss?" I turned fully to him now, getting a little annoyed at how extra grumpy he was and how he dared let it out on me.

"None of your business if I do," he said, but I noticed that his eyes dropped to my lips for a split second.

I snorted in a very unladylike fashion and finished my Saurian brandy. "Well, you'll be pleased to know that even if I remove my standards altogether, I still wouldn't kiss you. Besides, you might catch another flu from me."

"Very careless of you to bring that goddamn flu onboard."

"I had a complete physical before I beamed up," I defended and swung around to face the room. "Not my fault that Martian Colony 3 doctor didn't find it."

"If you'd come straight to sickbay for your physical when you came onboard, I could have limited the outbreak."

"There is no regulation that says I have to go straight to sickbay after finishing a physical just four hours before I beam up from a Federation planet."

McCoy gritted his teeth, the muscles in his temples almost vibrating. "My god, you are infuriating," he muttered. "Just like Jim."

"I heard that."

"Good."

I wanted to refill my brandy and throw it in his face, but even if this was an off-duty event and the Captain was past just tipsy, judging from the way he had his hands all over his fiancé, I was pretty sure Jim would have my head for insubordination.

"One minute to midnight," someone shouted from somewhere.

"Find anyone yet?" McCoy asked. He too was glancing around the room.

"If you keep asking me if I have anyone to kiss, I'll start to think you want me to kiss you," I snapped.

His head whirled around. "When pigs can fly."

"Thirty seconds to midnight!"

"Harry Mudd has a ship that can fly."

McCoy's eyes widened, and the corner of his lips twitched. He chewed on the inside of his chin, and I couldn't believe I had made the grumpy Chief Medical Officer struggle not to laugh.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!" People began counting down, more and more voices joining each second.

McCoy still looked at me, the repressed laughter leaving his face.

"Seven! Six!"

His face moved closer to mine, and I didn't back away.

"Five! Four! Three!"

One of his hands moved to the back of my head and he licked his lips.

"Two!"

I could smell the bourbon on his breath.

"One!"

His lips caught mine.

"Happy New Year!" There were shouts and whoops and whistles, but I barely noticed.

McCoy moved his lips against mine, his other hand coming up to cradle my face. I straightened up a bit on my seat, pressing harder against him and he took a step closer. My hands moved to his waist, grabbing fistfuls of the white shirt to keep him close.

All around us, people went back to drinking and dancing and talking. But I pulled away only long enough to draw a breath and then pulled on McCoy's shirt for another kiss. My entire body felt like I had drowned in Saurian brandy, it burned and tickled. He tasted just like bourbon and I don't know what kind he had been drinking, but I'm pretty sure I was getting second-hand drunk from him.

He was the one who pulled back to breathe now, letting go of me and taking a step back. His eyes opened slowly, his skin looking a little flushed. "That uhm... Well."

"Uh-huh."

He turned around and leaned his elbows on the bar and grabbed his half-empty glass, swivelling the liquid around, but not drinking any. I turned to face the same direction. The silence between us was awkward, but there were a million thoughts running through my mind, or one thought in a million copies, I couldn't be sure.

That had been very unexpected. But not unpleasant. "I'd like to do that again," I admitted.

He breathed deeply through his nose, then swallowed the contents of his glass in one large gulp. "Let's go," he said and held out his hand.

Without hesitating, I grabbed it and let him lead me out from the New Year's Eve party, to wherever he wanted.

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