#(if i ever write for him again)

[seiwas]

just thought about stepdad bakugo being caught off guard the first time your teenage son calls him “dad” 🥺

it’s after years of being with you. their relationship isn’t bad by any means—it’s okay; it’s good. but your son has called him katsuki for the longest time, and he was happy with that, perfectly content even (at least, he thought he was).

it was enough that your boy dubbed his cooking “the best in the entire universe and beyond”; it was enough that your boy trusted him enough with a few harmless secrets that you may never know. it was enough that you’d both welcomed him into your home, into your lives, in a way that’s made him feel like he belongs.

it was enough (at least, he thought it was), until your kid comes home with a group of friends one day and they ask him, “who’s the guy in your backyard?”

between the scrapes of soil against his gardening shovel and mild hearing problems, katsuki shouldn’t have been able to hear anything—but he hears this loud and clear.

your kid tells his friends, “oh, that’s just my dad,” like it’s the most obvious, natural thing in the world and it hits katsuki square in the chest.

the next thing he knows, he’s smiling, eyes a little wet but not yet crying (—is what he’ll tell you later). it’s a small curve of his lips, but it stays plastered on until the moment you come home.

you wonder, when the three of you are cleaning up after dinner, “what’s got you all smiley today?”

he looks at you, back a little straighter and chest puffed out just a bit more. then, he glances at your son just an earshot away, wiping the table clean; he turns to you, mumbling, “tell ya ‘bout it later.”

(like he’s got all the pride in the world, like he’s got all the love in the world).

[neoheros]

sakusa knows he’s a bad date.

he’s quiet, timid, doesn’t speak much, and asks all the wrong questions at the wrong time.

he’s not very good at eye contact and a lot of the things he wants to say he feels he can’t say at all either.

(partially due to the feeling that everything he says when he talks to you ends up embarrassing him, and partially due to the fact that talking to you for long periods of time make him tongue tied).

(not that he’d ever admit that).

despite all that though, he does know the basics when it comes to going on dates:

he buys you flowers (and forgets it by his doorway), he opens the car door for you (and apologizes when it almost hits you as he opens it), and he makes dinner reservations at the restaurant you mentioned to him in passing three days ago (he did a good job with this one).

so yes, him being a bad date is not unbeknownst to him. quite the opposite in fact, it’s not only something he knows about himself, but it’s also something that he thinks about all the time.

or at least, all the time ever since he’s met you.

that’s how the two of you end up here — the evening of your first (and probably last) date, sitting on a porch step of an empty building, a bloodied handkerchief filled with crushed up snow pressed against sakusa’s left cheek, and a few missing buttons from your favorite winter coat.

sakusa always knew he was a bad date, but he never thought he would be this bad.

the plan had been simple: get you flowers, open the door for you, drive you to the restaurant you liked. sakusa had this game-plan of his memorized ever since you said yes to him four — now five — days ago.

he wrote it on a piece of paper, step by step, and kept it in his wallet sleeve in case he forgets, he repeated it to himself three times in the mirror this afternoon before he left the house to pick you up, and he said it to himself one last time in the car before texting you that he’d arrived.

he memorized it.

and still, he messed it up.

the streets are empty and the evening is quiet.

“sorry … for this.”

his words feel like they’ve been the first to be spoken all night.

on the snowy concrete just below your feet, there’s a few drops of blood making its presence known loudly against the whiteness of the snow, the drops scatter sporadically, and near it, there’s a button or two from your coat.

you sit next to sakusa on the cold steps, it’s a quiet night, and it’s not snowing anymore, but the soft bed of the cold flurry it left behind made for a beautiful evening.

you let your head fall slightly on his shoulder, “for what?”

you can feel him stiffen immediately under your touch, and he coughs, shy, and looks to the side.

it makes you smile a little bit — his efforts of hiding his expressions — it’s not like you can see him anyway with that big makeshift ice-pack covering his face.

“sorry for the bad date.” he clears his throat, more clearly now, a little louder too, but his tone almost sounds disappointed. “… and sorry for ruining your coat.”

you lift your head up from his shoulder, frowning, and you turn to face him, “it’s not a bad date.”

he doesn’t say anything to that. instead, he keeps his head turned slightly away from you, but his shoulders fall a bit when you move away from him.

“if anything, i should be the one apologizing.” you mutter lowly, “i’m the reason you got hurt.”

sakusa huffs slightly. a second pausing in the air as he refuses to return the look you give him, and finally, he puts down the “ice pack” from his cheek, and looks at you.

his cheek is scratched lightly, nothing too deep, just a red mark that’ll probably resolve itself in a few days, but his lower lip though — the culprit of the blood stained snow — is undeniably busted, still bleeding slightly, and making him wince at the sudden loss of pressure.

“don’t say stupid things.” he tells you, and if it makes him sound cold, he swears he’s not trying to be.

he just doesn’t know what else there is to say.

the truth is — it is a bad date.

he forgot your flowers, almost hit you with the car door, and now, the two of you are missing your dinner reservation because he got himself injured twenty minutes into the night.

it’s not fair, he thinks. half the things he wants to say to you, he can’t. half the things he wants to do, he messes up.

you make him fumble on his words, tongue tied, speechless, literally. you make him write things down on notes so he won’t forget them or practice on bathroom mirrors or worry in his car outside your doorstep.

he is the most capable man in his team, he is the sharpest, the most composed, his teammates and coach all count and look up to him.

but for some reason, one night with you, and it all washes away.

he doesn’t know what to say to you, he forgets things, and he falls face first flat on the hard concrete ground twenty minutes into your first date.

don’t say stupid things.

“you really won’t let me take you to the hospital?” you put your hand on his knee, turning even more to your side so you can face him better.

you have half a mind to put your other hand on his injured cheek but you don’t want to hurt him more than how he already does.

“it’s not as bad as it looks.” and as he says that, he winces, the gust of wind suddenly hitting his busted lip a testament to his bad luck tonight.

sakusa wants to kick himself, if there ever would be an appropriate time to act cooler than how he actually was, it would definitely not be now.

you don’t look so convinced, but sakusa wouldn’t know, he’s still only limiting himself to looking at you briefly before shifting his glance to something behind you or beside you or above you.

“hm. and it doesn’t hurt?” you cross your arms.

he shakes his head, “no. it doesn’t.” (it does.)

you raise a brow, “and you wouldn’t happen to be lying to me right now so i don’t take you to the emergency room?”

he shakes his head again, “i’m not.” (he is.)

you give him a look.

listen — sakusa already knows that he’s a bad date, but come on! he has been planning on asking you to dinner with him since the first week he’s known you, he’s been worrying about this evening since the second you agreed to it, and he’s been kicking himself in the head ever since the night began.

he’d rather bleed out on this disgustingly dirty porch step than admit that he’s a date so bad he can turn an evening meant for dinner into a night at the emergency room.

he doesn’t want you to think that he can be so bad like that. (is it too soon to ask you out for dinner again?)

you still look frustrated at his answers. but at least, he’s looking at you now.

you let out a big sigh, shoulders falling, and suddenly, you clap your hands together loudly as you straighten up.

“then i have an idea.” you say, and sakusa furrows his brows at the sudden change in the atmosphere.

you give him a prompting grin. “heads or tails.”

and it catches him so off guard, he says aloud, “what?”

you dig for a coin in your coat, “i’ll flip a coin and if it lands on heads, we go to the emergency room, no arguments, no fusses, no nothing.”

he frowns at that.

“but.” you tell him, and your grin gets wider as you show him the dime laid out on your palm, “if it’s tails, we go to my apartment, and i’ll try to fix you up there.”

his frown falls almost immediately into something else.

one night out with you and he’s already bleeding heavily and injured, and now you wanna take him back to your apartment?

were you trying to kill him?

“heads or tails, omi.”

he blinks at your words. and once again, he finds himself saying aloud, “what?”

you shoot him a funny look, your eyebrows slightly raising as your lips curve upward into a crooked smile.

you say, teasing, “if you don’t know; heads is the part of the coin with the head of the person showing on it and tails is the–”

sakusa grumbles loudly, cutting you off mid-sentence, making sure you see him roll his eyes at you, and he nudges you slightly with his foot.

he mutters, albeit under his breath, and he tries to hide it, but you can always tell when he’s smiling, “i know what a goddamned head is.”

you shrug, your grin wider now when you see his mood lighten up a bit.

“do you know what a goddamned tail is?”

sakusa huffs out an amused sigh. the smile on his face a lot more prominent now, and you only wonder slightly if it hurts him when he does it.

his shoulders fall as he’s defeated, “just take me to the emergency room.”

you let out a short laugh and the night doesn’t seem so quiet anymore.

you fall back against his shoulder, “ah, omi, are you just saving the opportunity to be invited into my apartment for our next date?”

there’s a choking sound to be heard in the air.

his face almost feels like it’ll erupt into flames by how casually you just said that, a hot pink hue creeping up from his neck to nose all the way to the tips of his ears. he blames it on the cold, and immediately, he presses the “icepack” back against his cheek.

sakusa stands up suddenly from the porch step, “let’s go now.”

and just like he said, he strides away, faster than what would usually be safe on snow-covered pavement.

“omi, not so fast!” you yell after him, rising from your own seat and following his pace, “you might fall again and hurt the other side of your face and atsumu will think i beat you up on our first date.”

he walks faster.

“i can go to the hospital myself, please don’t follow me.”

“that’s ridiculous! let me take care of you!”

he trips on his feet slightly as you say that and his heart feels like it would’ve fell from his mouth had he not caught himself before falling again.

you really were trying to kill him, weren’t you?

maybe this date doesn’t feel so bad after all.

and, is it too soon if he asks you to come have dinner with him again?

[remcadll]

Gen obsessed with how.. *dead* your Jason's color pallete is. Like, that's corpse pale right there. Not a spec of blood left flowing in there (also father Todd's skin being full of color in comparison is a nice touch)

THANK YOU I love making him look a bit ghoulish. Guy who's not supposed to be alive but yes he is. no he isn't <3

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Started with Knuckles and things snowballed from there. I’m normal about Knuckles, Tails, and Sonic’s hair actually

[the-balloon-shed]

imma be honest I want to make a fic of this one day but for right now you just get me running wild with this headcanon

you know how there's those videos of surgeons being "inspirational" to their interns and then saying the meanest shit in the world? yeah, I think that's Iceman as an instructor at TOPGUN. 

Just the dry, rough sense of humor? The perfectly attenuated phrase in order to knock the arrogance out of some of these scrappy pilots? That's Iceman. The evidence is there in TG86! it's ICE who is saying the most bratty shit to Maverick. His criticisms are almost always valid or born of a real curiosity that's worth looking into, which I think is key, but he expresses it in the rudest and most inciting way possible. 

"Who was covering Cougar while you were showboating --"; (in response to Slider's calling Goose and Mav "famous") "I think you mean notorious"; "I don't like you 'cause you're dangerous" -- I mean Ice is right but he's also a bitch. (we don't have time to unpack ALL of what went into Ice goading Maverick seconds after meeting him with "need help figuring it out? who's the best pilot?" like my god man). 

So, some contenders for some of the commentary Ice might have for his students -- 

"Keep flying like that, I'm going to assume you're getting kickbacks from the military hospital." 

"I can only hope one day you fly for the enemy." 

"I was thrilled to hear the Navy's policy initiative for accommodating more disabilities went into action this year, however, I do think they should reconsider sending me blind pilots." 

"Are you on your wingman's life insurance or something?" 

"What did I say about making the same mistake twice?" "At least tell you I've learned something?" "No. What I said is don't." 

"Resist the urge to help me."

"I'm not looking for the best you can do. I'm looking for the best, period. So if you can't do any better, I suggest trying to emulate somebody else who can." 

"Well, you're no Artful Dodger, but artless dodging kept you alive well enough this time, I suppose." (I think it would be funny if he incidentally gave this poor pilot the callsign Dodger because of this, or A.D. for Artless Dodger)

"Did the Academy change its curriculum? Emphasize the element of surprise?" "Um... why do you ask, sir?" "Because you fly like you've never been inside a plane before." 

And I think he might say this to a colleague trying to pull rank over him that he neither respects nor cares about:

"I've neither the time, nor the crayons, to explain this to you." 

I think Mav would be so annoyed, too. "why do I have the reputation for being hard to work with when you're going around saying the meanest crap to these kids?" 

All Ice would do is laugh. "Sounds like a personal problem." 

Not to say that Ice is an asshole without restraint. Hell, the Iceman is all about restraint. He doesn't kick people when they're down. He doesn't say cutting stuff like this to people who are genuinely trying and not being a showoff. This is to knock overly arrogant kids down a few pegs, not send people into a shame self-doubting spiral, and Ice is usually pretty damn good at walking that line. 

Like, I imagine one of the students not understanding something to do with the physics portions of their classes and so he goes to Ice super nervous about getting reamed, and Ice is very patient with him. When Mav comes in and starts talking to Ice about instructor stuff, the student goes "oh, I can come back later, you know I think I'm getting it!" out of fear of wasting Ice's time and Ice would chuckle and be like "no, you clearly don't get it, and that's fine. Easier to teach you on dry land as opposed to up in the air, so let's keep working through it. Long as Mav's not about to talk to me about anything confidential --" which Mav shakes his head no "--alright, then how about you sit right there and keep working at it until you get it, and you will get it. If you've got the time, I've got the time, so let's get it done," and the kid stays in the office and keeps working at it for hours, occasionally checking his work with Mav and Ice until, voila, he does actually get it and also has a whole new understanding of Ice. 

Or if, god forbid, anyone had an accident, Ice would be all over trying to help with that (and help Mav work through it too) and protecting the students from any fallout from the brass because fuck them, they don't know what it's like to be in the air anymore. 

I also think that before the TOPGUN class starts, Ice would find Mav checking on all the canopies of all the jets and, once Ice realized that was what Mav was doing, would spend the next several hours with him helping out and making sure everything was operating properly, even though engineering had already looked at them. Can never be too sure, and if it provides Mav peace of mind, then Ice will do it, no questions asked. 

And so, despite saying some of the rudest crap most of these students have ever heard, they all love him. They all respect the ever-living-crap out of him, and learn to find him actually just kind of funny. It'd be a lot harder to like him if he were wrong, but he's so rarely wrong that in the end even the ones who do get pissed off at him manage to calm down. Students, as they graduate and leave TOPGUN, would probably talk to other graduating classes when they meet them on deployments like "oh my god, what did he say to your class?" "he once said --" "I didn't find it funny then but now I laugh every time I think about it -- " "he helped me figure out how to do..." so on so forth. 

There are a couple of the brass that aren't amused, but I think that's where Mav would come into play in his own way. Because Ice is good at what he does, and Mav sure as hell wants him around, and so should everyone else. Ice is just also not afraid to be an asshole about being good -- which the last person this is news to is Maverick. 

Maverick's just the only one Ice has encountered who can give as good as he gets, which is why as instructors, they do a pretty damn good job working together to whip their classes into shape. It's just funny that never in a million years did Mav think he'd be the "good cop" in their good cop/bad cop instructor situation, but he's resigned himself to his fate all the same. 

[kinkley-love]

Ravi looked over the rest of them.

Chim focused on his phone, no doubt looking at old pictures again. Ones where their family was still whole.

Eddie was talking quietly with Hen, something about trying to get a playdate together before he and Chris headed to El Paso.

They were just waiting on Buck.

Buck, who had texted them in a since-silent group chat, asking them all to meet on their off day.

No one had responded beyond liking the message, but they all were here. All except Buck.

It wasn't like him to be late, but under the circumstances, no one was complaining. Or, at least, Ravi wasn't complaining. Eddie had pulled out his phone, and Ravi caught the tail end of a snide remark about having limited time back in LA. Hen made a face, but didn't argue.

Ravi wished he had heard more, so he knew better what to say in response. Maybe something like, Where else do you want to be? Are we not enough for you?

He looked up at the sound of intentional scuffing, someone making sure their footsteps were heard.

That also wasn't like Buck. He'd call out a greeting, or run up before they could notice and drape himself over whoever was closest. Or, at least, he used to. Ravi didn't know what this subdued version of Buck would do. Scuff his feet, apparently.

Except it wasn't Buck. It was Tommy.

Ravi could tell he wasn't the only one surprised.

Tommy hadn't been on the group chat.

Chimney set his phone down as Tommy sat. "Is Buck parking or something?"

Tommy shook his head. "Evan's not coming."

Eddie rolled his eyes and leaned forward, almost as if he was trying to make himself bigger.. "Oh, so, he texts us that it's so important we show up, but he can't even bother?"

Tommy stared him down until Eddie sat back.

"No. I texted you. I used his phone because otherwise, I didn't think you would come."

Ravi couldn't argue that.

"And I needed you here, because this all?" He gestured to all of them. "This has to stop."

[beeduoo]

i really like that one tiktok

[14dayswithyou]

Hi, Howdy! Hey! I really love your novel!! I got a little confused by the 4 day, may maybe you help me please? who is it? why we got the bad end staying the night in Ren’s apartment and he disappear of the home screen? I can’t understand “unset memory” game, sorry if I wrote smth wrong or smth sounds rude, I swear that I didn’t mean it if happened, I’m really a fan of the novel, I’ve been playing the game since day 1 or 2 I guess, probably day 1, english isn’t my first language, but I tried lol

⌞♥⌝ I hope you don't mind me answering these as bullet points!! ^^

"It" will be revealed later in the game! So I won't reveal too much right now.

You can only get the Dead End in Day 4 by staying at Ren's apartment — the rest of your choices before that don't matter. I'd also pay closer attention to the black smoke and Ren's reaction towards it!

Ren disappears from the home screen because he promised to help the player out (and stop them from getting the Dead End again). Try replaying the game again from the beginning for a surprise!

"Unsent Memories" was another visual novel (initially being written by @10chimes / @unsentmemory, though the project has since been dropped and handed back to me /pos) and is set in the same universe as 14 Days With You. Its storyline and characters are completely separate from 14DWY, so you don't have to worry about them while playing 14DWY.

[haddonfieldwhore]

long time coming - matthew tkachuk

matthew tkachuk x fem!reader

summary: your best friend finally gets everything he’s ever dreamed of - time to celebrate

warnings: excessive drinking, language, insults as nicknames but in an affectionate way

authors note: this was a half baked idea and i don’t love how it turned out. also i know i said i probably wasn’t gonna write for him anymore. the playoff brainrot is simply too strong. i’m not not proud of myself for it.

word count: 2.2k and not a bit of it is edited

june 24 2024 - stanley cup final

if it weren’t for the combination of alcohol and adrenaline in your system, the pounding bass of the music blaring through the club probably would’ve hurt your ears. the ensuing headache would be a problem for tomorrow - tonight was for celebrating. you looked at the miniature plastic rat you had gripped in your hands, a souvenir you’d saved from the game, before you looked around the room.

your eyes scanned the neon lit crowd, and you separated from the other girls as your eyes landed on a familiar head of honey coloured curls.

you were bumped and hugged by the sweaty bodies of many of your friends as you walked across the miami nightclub, swiping a bottle of something expensive looking off the bar (it was on the leagues tab you hoped) on your way by until you stood in front of matthew.

“you fucking did it!” you yelled over the music, a drunken grin stretched over his face as he beamed up at you.

“we fucking did it!” he yelled back, his arms circling around your hips and pulling you into a hug, your body positioned between his legs as he sat on a chair - probably the first time he’d sat down all night. you and the rest of the panthers, as well as most of the wags and close friends, had been at the club for hours, celebrating the panthers winning the stanley cup.

he was sitting with a few of the guys, but he had tuned out their conversation the second he laid eyes on you walking over.

you and matthew had been best friends for most of your lives, and you had watched him move from calgary to florida, where he now thrived as one of the teams star players.

you’d barely seen matthew all night, letting him celebrate with his teammates while you enjoyed dancing and drinking with the other girls; you had become close with them through your affiliation with matthew and his teammate sam bennett, who you also knew from his time in calgary.

you were having almost as much fun as you imagined matthew was, finally watching him live out his dream after so many years.

“come dance with me,” you offered, pulling him by his hand with the one that wasn’t wrapped around the neck of the bottle.

“what did you find?” he asked. you held up the plastic rodent, touching it to the end of his nose as if it was kissing him.

“a rat-“

“no dumbass, that,” he laughed with a roll of his eyes, pointing to the alcohol.

“i have no idea - wanna try it?” you giggled, passing him the bottle. he removed the cap, taking a long swig from it before shrugging.

“didn’t think you were a vodka girl,” he teased, taking another sip, letting you know it couldn’t be that bad. you put the rat in the pocket of your jeans, tired of carrying it, and grabbed his arm again, your fingers wrapping around his bicep.

you pulled him away from his teammates, who didn’t seem to notice his departure, and into the mass of people dancing to the blaring music.

you danced together for a little while, slowly getting lost in the sea of people and further away from your friends.

“it’s supposed to rain tomorrow during the parade,” you said as you bounced side to side to the beat of whatever song was playing.

“it could fucking snow for all i care,” he laughed with a toothy smile. “nothing gonna stop the parade.”

“i’ll drink to that,” you agreed, and he lifted the bottle in his hand, tilting you chin up with his index finger and thumb. your eyes met his glossy ones as you let him pour the liquid into your mouth, before swallowing the liquid, the burning sensation almost unnoticeable at this point of the night.

you felt like you were floating, and before you could blink his lips were on yours. your feet moved backwards as he steered the two of you away from the crowd, and if you weren’t so wrapped up in the moment you would have been shocked that there was a remotely quiet corner of the club tonight. you were lucky he was keeping you stable with his hands on your hips or you surely would’ve tripped walking backwards this intoxicated - where he set the bottle down you weren’t sure and didn’t care.

your hands reached up and slid his hat off his head, placing it on your own before tangling your fingers in his curls, messing them up in the process.

you parted to catch your breath, the wave of dizziness in your head a reminder that you did in fact need oxygen. you blinked up at him, your face hot as you looked over his expression, perhaps for any sign of regret. he was freshly shaven, gone was the playoff beard that you secretly loved - although you hated how much older it made him look. without it he looked more like the boy you had grown up with; the boy dragged you too all his games and practices throughout highschool; who took you to prom when your date had dumped you at the last minute.

he smiled at you, adjusting his hat atop your head (like he wasn’t the one who had knocked it crooked).

“i’m so proud of you, matty,” you blurted, as if you didn’t tell him all the time.

he didn’t reply, but smiled and leaned down to kiss you again, and you pulled his body closer by the belt loops on his jeans. his fingertips dug into your hips, while your lips stumbled together drunkenly - the kiss was messy and rushed but it didn’t matter.

you broke apart at the sound of someone calling his name, and the realization that you were still in a public place full of people crashed over you like a tidal wave. oops.

“chucky, have you seen…. y/n,” carter asked, trailing of when he realized he had found you; and the situation he’d found you in.

before he could reply, matthew was dragged away by bennett and ekblad, a drink shoved in his hand before they pulled him back over to the party.

“what did you need?” you asked, suddenly feeling a lot less drunk as what had just happened sunk in.

“zoe was looking for you - she said girl emergency in the bathroom,” carter explained, scratching the back of his neck, a small smile on his face. “casey sent me to find you - they looked everywhere except the obvious place.”

with matthew.

“on it - thanks carter.” you walked off towards the ladies room before he could say anything more, pushing through the clusters of people on the dance floor until you found the rest of the girls.

“where have you been?” zoe asked as she grasped your hands in hers.

“guess,” nina laughed, pointing to the hat atop your head, a telling number 19 embroidered onto the side of it.

•

you groaned as the light streamed in through the curtains. you didn’t remember what time you’d gotten back home, in fact you didn’t remember much from last night.

well, there was a few things you couldn’t forget.

the florida panthers won the stanley cup.

and you’d sloppily made out with your best friend.

as you rolled over, trying to shield you eyes from the sunlight with your pillow, your phone began blaring the sound of your alarm.

your head pounded, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be annoyed - it was parade day.

fighting off the exhaustion that begged you to stay in bed, you got up and took a quick shower, which helped to wake you up only slightly.

coffee and advil would be carrying you through the day you decided; and the joy of celebrating with your friends would help a bit surely.

your phone went off again, this time with a call from matthew, his picture popping up on the screen.

“hey stanley cup champion,” you answered, a smile on your face.

“i’ll never get sick of hearing that,” he replied. “where are you right now?”

“at home, where are you?” you asked, assuming correctly that he had never gone home last night.

“i’m still out with the guys, i don’t think i could sleep even if i tried,” he laughed. “i just wanted to check in since you disappeared last night. i’ll see you at the parade?” he asked.

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you promised, and you meant it.

“i’ll catch you later.”

he hung up, and you dropped your phone on the bed, the lockscreen displaying a photo of matthew holding the stanley cup - you must have changed it last night. you smiled to yourself, before looking for something to wear to the parade, your eyes landing on matthew’s hat on your dresser.

•

matthew had been right, despite the literal rain on the parade, it had been a blast celebrating with the team and the fans. by evening, the partying had caught up to you, and you were starting to feel the exhaustion creeping over you.

you were sitting at a restaurant for dinner and drinks with some of the team and friends when you leaned your head on matthew’s shoulder.

“tired?” he asked softly, the other conversations almost drowning it out, and you nodded.

“come on, i’ll take you home.”

“no it’s okay, stay and celebrate, i’ll get an uber.”

“i’m ready to call it a night too, come on.”

the two of you slid out of the booth, and matthew said goodbye to a few people before leaving some cash on the table to cover both of your bills.

“thank you,” you said, grabbing his hand and walking out to his car. the drinking had slowed down enough by this point that matthew was okay to drive, and you weren’t awake enough to notice that you had passed the turn to go to your house until you felt the car stop in matthew’s driveway.

“come on sleepyhead,” he shook you gently and you blinked, getting your bearings as you recognized the familiar sight of his home.

no stranger to spending the night at each others houses, you didn’t bat an eye as you followed him inside, following him upstairs towards his room to steal clothes to wear to bed; another common occurrence.

“are we gonna talk about it?” he asked suddenly, and you paused as you dug through his dresser, finding your favourite t-shirt of his.

“you winning the cup?” you replied, not sure what else there was to say about it; it was all anyone had talked about for the last 36 hours or so; nor that you were complaining.

“the other thing,” he rolled his eyes playfully, though you couldn’t see him with your back turned.

“what other thing?” you knew damn well what he was talking about, but honestly with how much you’d both had to drink, if he didn’t remember the kiss, you wouldn’t have been surprised. maybe secretly you didn’t want to talk about it, because you didn’t know how he felt about it.

“you don’t remember?” he asked, sounding slightly hurt, and you turned to face him. you hated when he sounded upset like that.

“i remember matty. i wasn’t sure if you did, and honestly i don’t really know what to say about it,” you looked down at your feet.

“i’m sorry if i-“

“matthew, you don’t have to apologize. that’s not what i meant - “ you assured him.

“so you don’t regret it?” he said hesitantly, as if asking for clarification.

“i don’t regret it, i just…” you sat down on the end of his bed as you tried to wrap your head around things. you loved matthew, but things had never been more than platonic between you. at least you thought they had. maybe he felt more than that. maybe you did too. “do you regret it?”

“not in a million years,” he smiled with a chuckle “this doesn’t have to change anything unless you want it to.”

you thought about it again - the way he looked at you, the way his hands felt roaming your body, the feeling of his lips on yours. the way carter hadn’t looked at all surprised when he found the two of you making out.

“do you… want it to change anything?”

“are you asking if i want to kiss you again?” he asked, stepping closer so he was standing in front of you.

“i guess i am, yeah,” you decided. you had never felt nervous around matthew before, and you took a deep breath, realizing that you didn’t need to feel nervous around him now either.

“do you want-“

“you can’t answer my question with a question!” you laughed, pushing his arm gently.

“you answered mine with a question first!” he pushed you back, and you fell backwards onto the bed softly, both of you laughing as he jumped onto the bed next to you.

“i don’t want things to be weird between us,” you have a half answer, turning your head to the side to meet his eyes.

“do you really think anything could make things weird between us?” he said, his eyebrows scrunching together sceptically, a playful tone in his voice.

“no,” you smiled. he would always be your best friend, nothing could change that.

“good,” he nodded, before closing the gap between you and kissing you softly, a stark contrast to the frenzied kisses of the night before.

you kissed him back, your hand cradling his jaw softly, before separating. you smiled as you admired just how beautiful he was, your fingers tracing across the freckles along his cheekbones.

“i love you,” he whispered, the words heavier this time, like there was a new layer to them.

“i love you too, mister stanley cup champion.”

❤️🐀✨🤍

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. while some aspects are based on real events, i have no affiliation with any of the people mentioned in this story

[bbuzz28]

Memories

Old man Fiddlestan, my beloved-and what's this? It could be semi-canon compliant :O ?!?! Woof- this is one of the saddest things I have ever written. I know some of you gremlins (affectionate) love that sort of thing, but I don't. I like really really don't. This is my comfort ship, so I don't even know where this came from other than trying to figure out how they *could* work in canon. Truthfully though, I prefer my Fiddlestan heavy on the comfort when it comes to the "hurt/comfort" genre. This is my only “angsty” (i.e. no immediate happy ending) Notes-app fics, so don't get used to this level of sad from me lol.

“Stan?” an oddly familiar voice called. Mr. Mystery, Stan Pines, glanced up from the flyers he was organizing and found that Old Man McGucket stood in the doorway of his front door. The last tour of the day had just left, it was dinnertime, and he was exhausted. Stan rolled his eyes as he unfurled his tie, wishing Soos was still there to escort the crazy old man off his property. No matter what he did, the old hillbilly always managed to find his way back to the Shack. “Sweet Moses McSuckit, what are you doing in here? Shoo, scat, or whateva will get rid of ya.” Hearing no movement, he looked at the man again and found he was standing erect. His blue eyes were the clearest he had seen them in no less than a decade.

          Wait, what did he call- oh. Oh no.

“Stan…ley? Did I…did I do somethin’ wrong?” the other man asked, his hands twisted in knots in front of him. Memories flashed through Stan’s mind; Ford falling through the portal, Fiddleford finding him passed out in the lab, working together to bring Ford home again…being together. Being happy. They had been happy, if just for a little while, hadn’t they?

Then there was the cult, and his discovery of the damn memory gun that had finally ruined everything they ever built. He took a hesitant step forward, a thousand thoughts roaring in his mind at once. “Fidds? Wha-what do you remember?” A bandaged hand snaked up and rubbed over the faded scar on the side of his head “I…don’t rightly know. Did we…I think we had a fight? I just woke up in the…in the dump. N’ I don’t have any shoes. Do ya know why my arm is in a cast?” Fiddleford looked so lost.

Stan knew in his heart that all of this was fleeting- “clarity” would hit Fiddleford every few years after he had finally wiped his mind of himself. Almost like his brain was trying to jumpstart itself back together. The first time they thought it was a miracle but…it didn’t last. It just started a trend that would follow them both for the next almost thirty years. Fiddleford would seemingly “wake up” and be lucid for a few weeks in the beginning, then eventually only a matter of days. It had been so long since the last time that Stan would wager, they only had maybe a few hours together if he was lucky.

The last time Fiddleford was himself…they had fought. Stanley thought he had figured the only way Fiddleford could stay; he needed to remember. Remember everything he had ever forgotten. At the time, Fiddleford had been unwilling to try. He didn’t think he could handle it; he knew he had forgotten what he had for a reason.

Stanley had gotten as close to begging as he ever had in his life since surviving Tijuanna, and when it had no effect…Stanley had told Fiddleford to leave and never come back. He had left that night, and by the next day he had faded away again. After a while, Stan thought his last words had been the final nail in the coffin that was Fiddleford’s mind. He carried that weight along with every other mistake he had ever made. But here he was. Fiddleford. His Fiddleford.

He took a deep breath before he opened his arms up. “Hey, don’t worry, it doesn’t matter. I’m right here.” Fiddleford rushed through the doorway, melting into Stanley’s open arms. “I went away again, didn’t I?” Stan could feel Fiddleford’s tears soaking into his chest, his own whispering at the edges of his eyes. Yes, and you will leave again. You will leave me and I will be alone all over again, you fucking asshole. “Hey cowboy, didn’t I just say not t’ worry about any a’ that? You’re here now, n' that’s what matters. You’re…you’re home.” A haggard laugh vibrated through the smaller man’s chest into Stanley’s own. “I know I keep tellin’ ya, tellin’ me not t’ worry is like” “…tellin’ a fish t’ stop swimmin’; I know Fidds, I know.” Fuck was really the only conscious thought that went through his head as he held his one-time lover. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, again.

Fiddleford looked up, eyes wide and searching Stan’s face. “How long do ya think we have?” Stan shook his head, unwilling to lie even if it eventually wouldn’t matter because he wouldn’t remember. You’ve always been the only person I couldn’t lie to. “I dunno, it’s been…a while. Probably not very long.” Fiddleford closed his eyes before he said “I need ya t’ know somethin’, Stanley.” Stan started to shake his head. “Fidds, you don’t have t-” The look on the other man’s face shut Stan right up-he had always had that ability. Stan wished he didn’t miss it as much as he did. “I need ya to know that even when I’m not here…I miss you. The part of me that’s somewhere in here-” A weathered hand tapped the side of his head to emphasize his point “ misses you. I’m just so sorry, Stanley. Sorry that I’m a coward. I’m sorry that I’m not strong enough to be here all the time…but I’ll never stop tryin’. I’ll always try n’ come home to ya.”

Stan thought of the thousands of times he had chased Old Man McGucket, the neat little character that Stan had to compartmentalize his Fiddleford into when he wasn’t himself, out of the Shack. How many times he had found him curled up like a cat on the back porch. How every time they “met”, McGucket would say how nice Stan was or how good he felt to be around him “for some reason.” How many odds and ends McGucket would gift Stan from the dump for exhibits at the Mystery Shack with a large smile and nothing substantial behind his eyes.

It would be so much easier if he would stop trying to come back. Maybe the hole in Stan’s heart the size of the sweet, certifiably insane man would scab over. How many times had Stanley mourned him? How many times was he willing to hurt himself? They were now nearing their sixties, how long was he really willing to do this song and dance?

What’s one more time? he softly thought, his hand coming up to tenderly cup the grizzled face of Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. Mad scientist, friend, and unfortunately for them both…the love of his life.

“I miss you too, Fidds.”

[moeblob]

Sometimes, you have an emotional support old man and you love and cherish him c:

[dennisboobs]

:) i certainly have no issue dressing in drag :)

^guy who has no issue dressing in drag btw

glenn said that dennis' drag name is victoria von hemen btw

(Source)

[smilesrobotlover]

The sun felt warm as it shone against Talon’s skin, making his eyes grow heavy as he and his carriage slowly moved across Hyrule field. He had just sold some Lon Lon milk in Castle town, and left early in the morning so he could get home as soon as possible. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t a morning person, so he was doing everything in his power to stay awake. The last thing he needed was to fall asleep and get robbed by bandits.

The field was quiet and peaceful, the world not yet awakening from the sun barely peeking over the horizon. The gentle clip-clop of his horse’s hooves against the ground was soothing, and Talon began to feel too relaxed, finally giving in to his desires of dozing off.

A distressed whinny caused him to jolt awake. He looked around, expecting to be attacked by bandits or monsters, but all he saw was a small horse running to him, whinnying frantically at Talon.

“Oh my, where’d you come from, little one?” He wondered out loud, stopping his carriage and hopping off. The horse was noticeably young, with a beautiful chestnut coat and cream colored hair. It was a mare from what Talon could see, and looking at her coat, she seemed awfully familiar to him. She stomped up to Talon and gently bit his hand, attempting to drag him.

“Woah woah woah!” Talon pulled back, giving the horse a weird look. “What do ya think you’re doin’ little one?”

The horse whinnied again and started to shuffle to an area, clearly trying to get Talon to follow. Talon didn’t have much choice but to follow; a horse only acted like this when something was wrong.

“Where’s your rider?” He muttered, following the horse reluctantly. He didn’t know what he was being led to specifically, but seeing the size of the filly with a saddle of all things made him worried for a young rider, possibly injured somewhere. Seeing that Talon was finally following her, the filly started to trot towards a cluster of trees, stopping at a patch of bushes where she began to stomp around, impatiently nibbling and nudging the leaves on the bushes. Talon let out a sigh when he reached the spot, looking around to see if anything was out of the ordinary, but there was nothing. Was this filly just lost and was panicking, hoping to get help? Talon had to admit she seemed to be a smart horse, but he didn’t understand why he was led to a patch of bushes.

“Are you lost, little one?” He asked, watching as the young mare nibbled on the bushes. She nudged the leaves away with her snout while snorting, and Talon was able to catch a glimpse of blonde hair. He gasped and got on his knees, moving the bushes out of the way to reveal a young, blonde-haired boy with green clothes that blended in with the plants surrounding him. He looked to be about the same age as his daughter Malon, barely eleven, and his face was pale and covered in sweat. He wheezed as he breathed and he had a pained expression on his face, and Talon lightly touched his head to feel a burning fever. He frowned and began to shake him gently, seeing if he would wake up. The boy groaned and reacted to his touch, his eyes fluttering open. They landed on Talon immediately and several emotions flickered through his face.

“M-Mr– Bart—ten…” He choked out, his eyes tearing up as he stared at Talon. The farmer blinked for a moment, confused about what he was saying, but he let out a sigh and went to gather the boy in his arms. The poor thing was clearly delirious, and he needed medical attention.

“It’s ok, kiddo, I’ll take care of you,” he assured. The boy felt fragile in his strong arms, and he whimpered in pain as his head rested against Talon’s chest. The farmer wasted no time finding a spot for the boy in his carriage, having to move some empty bottles out of the way and laying strands of hay to add a cushion for him. He gently laid him down, finding a quilt tucked away in the corner of the carriage and swaddled him the best he could. It didn’t look comfy, but it was better than nothing. He tucked the empty bottles away to make sure they didn’t fall on him, and he grabbed a spare rope to tie to the back.

“I hope you don’t mind this, I have a feeling that boy is your rider,” Talon explained, tying the rope to the filly. The young mare surprisingly seemed willing to be tied to the carriage, and waited patiently as Talon hopped on his carriage, resuming his journey with more haste. He tried to keep a steady pace so the carriage wouldn’t jostle, and so that the mare wouldn’t be dragged behind, but he knew he needed to move fast if he wanted to get back to the ranch. He fortunately had medicine stocked up at home, knowing that if he, Malon, or Ingo got sick, he wouldn’t have time to go back and forth getting more, so the boy should be fine when they got there. He just hoped it wouldn’t turn into anything serious—Talon was knowledgeable on illnesses and injuries, but he was no doctor.

The sun was beginning to set when Talon arrived at Lon Lon, and he hopped off the carriage in front of his house, untying the mare and collecting the feverish boy in his arms.

“Daddy!”

Talon glanced up to see his little girl running towards him, an excited smile on her face. Talon smiled back and shifted the boy in his arms slightly.

“You’re back! Did ya get me anything?”

“Why yes, I did,” Talon said, pulling the boy out of the carriage and showing Malon. “I got you a new friend, but he’s a little sick right now.”

Malon’s eyes went big and she stepped forward, gently patting the boy’s arm. “Fairy boy! It’s Fairy boy! Don’t you remember him daddy?”

Talon looked down at the boy again. He was so distracted on getting him into his carriage, he didn’t recognize him as the young boy that visited Lon Lon Ranch over a year ago. Memories of him and Malon playing music at the ranch flooded in, and Talon only felt more inclined to take care of him. The situation became more personal.

“Epona!” Malon squealed, giggling at the filly who trotted towards her excitedly. Talon stared at the two’s reunion, Epona nuzzling Malon’s chest while she sang her favorite song. He smiled warmly at them and quickly headed inside, not wanting to wait much longer. So this boy and that horse used to be here in Lon Lon? Goddesses, it had been a while since Talon’s seen him, and yet it felt like it was only yesterday. Though the fairy boy was in their lives for such a short time, he left an impact on the ranch, specifically with Malon. He was the first kid her age that she’s met and played with, and Malon talked her father’s ear off about him since he went away with Epona in tow. Talon began to grow curious about where he was all this time, and why he was hidden in bushes with a burning fever.

The farmer walked up the stairs that led to his room and he set the sick boy gently on the soft mattress. He stared at him for a moment, his brow furrowed, trying to remember anything else about the little one, but nothing came up, so he turned around to get medicine, water, and a damp cloth. The folks at Lon Lon didn’t get sick often, so he hoped he remembered enough about taking care of a fever. When he went back upstairs to his room, he heard the boy whimpering, shifting in the soft bed. Talon quickly took off his shoes to make him more comfortable and rested his hand on his head. The fever was concerningly strong.

“Excuse me,” Talon said softly, gently shaking the boy. He groaned and his eyes fluttered open again, staring over Talon’s shoulder. He squinted his eyes and frowned.

“Romani? … How…?”

Talon raised an eyebrow and looked behind him, flinching when his daughter suddenly appeared.

“Goddesses, Malon, don’t sneak up on me like that!” He scolded. Malon gave an apologetic look, her dimples appearing as she smiled slightly.

“Sorry, daddy. I just wanted to see Link! It’s been a while!”

Malon leaned over the fairy boy (or Link, Talon supposed), brushing his hair away from his face. Link looked horrified as he watched Malon, clearly looking uncomfortable.

“Malon, sweetie, let’s give him some space,” Talon spoke up, noting Link’s strange expressions. “I oughta give him some medicine anyhow.”

Malon hopped back and gave her father an excited look. “Can I help?”

“Oh! Well…” Talon glanced at the bowl of water and the cloth. “You can help wipe his face when I’m done givin’ him medicine, ok?”

Malon nodded excitedly, watching as Talon helped Link sit up. The boy was so weak that he could barely move on his own, and Talon eventually pulled him into his lap so he could lean against him. Talon gripped Link’s arm firmly so he could stay in place and began rummaging his hand all over the nightstand to grab the medicine. His daughter noticed his searching and grabbed the medicine for him and Talon gave her a grateful nod, uncorking the bottle and bringing it to Link’s lips.

“You think you can drink this?” He asked, and Link nodded, clumsily grabbing at the bottle and drinking it with Talon’s help. Talon had to pull it back a couple of times to make sure it didn’t spill everywhere, but Link was surprisingly cooperative for an eleven-year-old drinking the disgusting medicine; he remembered he always had to fight Malon whenever she needed it. The bottle was soon gone, and Link leaned back against Talon’s chest, his eyes closed. The farmer cradled him for a moment, figuring that Link needed that type of comfort, and Malon walked over as she watched him with her father, her head tilted with fascination.

“Is he gonna be ok?” Malon asked, and Talon looked up at her, nodding confidently.

“I’m sure he will be,” he said, carefully moving Link so he could get off the bed. He laid him down and pulled the blankets over him, giving his hair a soft ruffle before pulling away.

“I’m gonna put the carriage away, Malon. You keep an eye on him, ok?” Talon said, and his daughter nodded back at him. Talon lingered for a moment, worriedly watching them, but finally left the room. Ingo was outside staring at the carriage annoyed, but he quickly scurried away when Talon showed up. The farmer glanced over at Epona, who was watching him silently. Talon frowned and walked over to her, giving her a gentle pat on the snout.

“That boy doesn’t have a family, does he?” He asked, knowing that Epona wouldn’t answer. It was something Talon noticed when Link first arrived. Though he didn’t remember much, he did remember that Link was by himself whenever he saw him. The only company he had was his fairy. Talon shouldn’t be too surprised—if Link really was a Kokiri, then it’d make sense why he’d have no family. But Kokiris died when they left the woods, didn’t they? Or was Link finally experiencing the death a Kokiri had when they were out of the woods? Talon rubbed his eyes with a soft grumble. He really didn’t know if any of that was true, but it made Talon slightly worried. Despite remembering that Link was from the lost woods, Talon couldn’t help but feel that he was a Hylian. Everything down to his mannerisms made him seem far more mature than the Kokiri ever were. They remained as children, their bodies and mentalities never changing, even for centuries. But Link…. His face held a mature understanding of the world that Talon only saw in adults. Either way, Talon couldn’t risk him dying. If he needed to return to the woods, he would take him there, he just needed to learn more about him.

Talon led Epona and his carriage to the barn, letting her and the horses roam with the others before returning to the house with warm Lon Lon milk. He was expecting Link to be sound asleep, but to his surprise, he was already trying to get out of bed despite Malon’s protests.

“Link, honestly! You can’t be gettin’ up now! You could barely drink the medicine my daddy gave to you!” She shouted, trying to shove him back to bed.

“I… I’ll be fine,” he mumbled, his voice raspy and hoarse. He brushed Malon off and reached for his shoes, but grew out of breath.

“Link! You’re sick! Lay back down!”

“I can’t stay…”

Talon entered the room with haste, setting the bottle of milk down as he walked up to Link. The boy stared up at him, his light blue eyes wide with guilt.

“Do you need to go to the woods?” Talon asked him, and Link frowned.

“What?”

“The woods? The lost woods? Where all them youngins are in?”

“O-oh, Kokiri forest?”

“Yeah, that. I hear Kokiri die when they’re away from the forest for too long. You… you’re a Kokiri, right?”

A devastated look took over Link’s exhausted face, his eyes spacing out as he looked down. “No…”

Talon frowned at his reaction, and he glanced over at Malon who looked concerned.

“No?”

“I-I’m not going to the woods… I’m not a Kokiri… I don’t belong there anymore. I don’t–I don’t belong anywhere,” Link’s voice grew so quiet that Talon almost didn’t catch what he said at the end. It was quiet in the room, and Link slowly went to grab his shoes, but Talon stopped him.

“What’s the rush then?”

“I… can’t stay….”

“Why not?”

“Because I…. I…” Link stammered, trying to push out a good argument, but with his feverish mind and exhausted body, he couldn’t. Talon sighed and gently pushed him back, and Link obliged, laying down on the pillow, his eyes half closed.

“At least get some rest before you decide to travel, ok?”

Link’s eyes went wide for a second, before closing, and he was finally asleep. Talon sighed and gave his head a pat, giving a proud smile to Malon.

“You handled that well, dear.”

Malon brushed some hair out of her eyes and sighed. “Thanks daddy. He sure is a stubborn one, ain’t he?”

Talon shrugged and stared at the young boy. So he wasn’t a Kokiri, that meant he wasn’t dying, thank the goddesses. But everything else about Link confused him. If he seemingly didn’t belong to the Kokiri anymore, then where did he call home? Did he even have a home? Talon sighed and began to head out of the room.

“I trust you’ll keep a good eye on him?”

Malon nodded. “I won’t let him try to get up next time.”

Talon snorted. “Try not to hurt him too much. You got some Gerudo blood in you, while he’s a simple Hylian,” Talon glanced at Link, “I think. Give him that milk when he wakes up.”

Malon nodded again and plopped herself in a chair, staring at the strange boy in bed. Talon smiled at her, leaving the room once again, feeling exhausted himself.

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

Link’s fever was persistent. Talon spent a long time with him to see if he was getting better, but he was not. He wasn’t getting worse though, which Talon supposed was better than nothing. Link stayed in bed most of the time, unable to get out due to the fever and to Malon forcing him to rest. Talon always had to make sure she was gentle with him. He knew she had such a gentle and kind soul, but her Gerudo strength, despite having only a little bit of it, was not to be underestimated. Malon stayed by Link’s side the entire time, only leaving when she had chores to do. She would talk the boy’s ear off when she was with him; talking to him about her chores, her favorite animals, and the songs she wrote. She would occasionally sing to him, and he would always listen. Talon couldn’t tell if he wanted to listen, but considering the small smile on his lips whenever his daughter spoke to him, he assumed that he enjoyed the company. Many times, Talon decided to do Malon’s chores for her so she could spend time with her friend, and eventually, Link started to feel better.

Talon allowed him to walk around the ranch, knowing that being in the same room for days couldn’t feel good for anyone, and Link happily obliged. He always seemed anxious, as if there was something he had to be doing, so being able to at least walk around made him a little more cheery than normal. But as soon as he was able to walk around, he once again tried to leave.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” Talon asked when he caught Link packing up his things, trying to talk him out of it before he was gone. Link didn’t say anything for a moment, a guilty look on his face.

“I–I need to be elsewhere,” he finally said, finishing packing up his few items scattered across the room.

“Already? I know you’re feelin’ better, and exercise is good for you, but you can’t push yourself.”

Link let out a huff. “I’ll be fine. This fever will go away in due time.”

“Yeah, if you take care of yourself,” Talon argued, and Link shot a glare at him.

“Why do you care?” He suddenly snapped. Talon’s eyes widened at the boy’s sudden hostility. He scratched the back of his head and looked away.

“Is it so wrong for me to care about a sick kid?”

Link’s expression softened and he turned away. “How much do you remember?” He asked softly.

“Huh?”

“How much–how much do you remember of me?”

Talon was taken aback at the strange question. Though he’s only seen Link a couple of times last year, he remembered them pretty well now that he spent more time with the kid.

“I remember you woke me up with a cuccoo and told me my daughter was waitin’ for me. Good thing too ‘cause I didn’t mean to fall asleep at the castle of all places. Poor Malon.” Link stayed still as stone so Talon continued, “I remember you came by our ranch and found my special cuccoo. I teased you about marryin’ my daughter and you got all shy ‘bout it.” Talon chuckled at the memory. Link looked away with an embarrassed look on his face so Talon moved onto the next memory. “I remember you and Malon played all day, and played music as loud as you two could. It sorta annoyed me when I was tryin’ to sleep but I ain’t never seen Malon sing with all her heart like that before. So I let it continue.” Talon sighed and racked everything he remembered about Link, but only one more memory remained. “And then I remember you buyin’ Epona. It broke Malon’s heart to part with that horse but she cared about you and knew you would take great care of her. And that’s about all I remember of you.”

Link continued to face away from Talon, staring blankly at the wall. Talon frowned and walked up to him.

“Why are you askin’ this?”

Link sighed and hugged himself. “You just don’t know me like you used to.”

Talon was taken aback again. “Now what in Farore’s name do you mean by that?”

Link opened his mouth but was interrupted by Malon entering the room. She spotted Link’s packed up possessions and frowned.

“You’re leaving already?” She asked as he quickly finished gathering his things. “Are you sure you feel well enough for it?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said softly, looking up at Talon with another guilty expression. “I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

Talon tilted his head. “You didn’t overstay nothin’ boy. It was my pleasure to have you here.”

Link smiled slightly, but he quickly turned away, a sad and distant look in his eye. Talon stroked his chin and squinted at him.

“Where do you call home?”

Link glanced at Talon, then at the floor. “I—um…”

“Do you… have a home?”

Link didn’t react, and he shifted uncomfortably. Talon sighed.

“Oh… Link, if you have nowhere else to go, you can always stay here—“

“No! I-I mean,” Link shrunk away, clutching onto his shirt. “You-you guys have been very kind but I–I don’t want to be a bother anymore.”

“You were anything but a bother! We loved havin’ you here!” Talon reassured, but Link didn’t look convinced

“I-I can’t stay here for free… I—I don’t—“ Link whimpered slightly, pressing himself further against the wall. Talon backed up slightly, realizing he was being too forceful with the boy. He took a deep breath and tried again.

“Ok, if you don’t wanna stay for free, then you don’t have to,” he said softly.

Link finally looked at him, a sad look on his face. “I don’t have any rupees though.”

“Who said anythin’ about money! How old are ya? Eleven? I can't expect an eleven-year-old to be able to pay rent!”

Link stared at him confused. “Then how…?”

“Well, I can always have ya work around the farm, do whatever chores you’re capable of doin’, in return you get a place to stay and food to eat.”

Link stared for a moment, the gears in his mind turning as he thought about Talon’s offer.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Sorry to put pressure on you,” Talon quickly added, realizing he was still being forceful. “But if you want, we’d love to have you.”

Link was silent for a long time, swaying slightly as Talon and Malon watched him. He finally let out a sigh and looked up at Talon.

“Can I…. Think about it?”

Talon was relieved slightly and nodded. “Of course you can, just know that wherever you go, you’ll always have a place to stay in Lon Lon Ranch.”

Link gave a more genuine smile at him.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Talon escorted Link to the entrance with Malon in tow, the two Lon’s chatting about mundane things with Link listening silently. When they reached the entrance, Talon turned to his daughter and nodded.

“Malon, could you get his horse for him?”

“Of course, daddy!”

Talon watched as his daughter ran to where the horses were, then he glanced at Link who still had an unsure look on his face.

“Link?”

Link pursed his lips. “I… I wish there was a way I could repay you for this…”

“Oh, it was on the house,” Talon said, waving his hand. “It’s the least I could do for you.”

Link smiled, his hands clumped up on his chest. “You don’t know how much this means to me… I… thank you…”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure. And my offer will always be here for you, or… if you ever wanna visit,” Talon shrugged, “you’re free to visit as well if you don’t wanna stay.”

Link’s face twisted slightly, and he shyly leaned into Talon, which surprised him. He was always so distant from the others, but he was almost hugging the old farmer. Talon wrapped his arms around him and rubbed his back gently, only pulling away when Malon returned with Epona. Link quickly hopped on the horse, discreetly wiped his eye, and he gave the two a nod.

“I guess I’ll… see you around?” He said, and Talon nodded.

“Of course, you be safe out there boy!” Talon said, waving him goodbye.

“Yeah! Come visit! I want to sing with you again!” Malon exclaimed, waving enthusiastically at him. Link grinned at her and nodded at the two. Then he clicked his tongue and ran off on his horse, heading to Din knows where. Talon watched sadly as he disappeared into the field, almost wishing there was more he could do for him. It was strange how much the boy had changed since he first met him. Link was a very playful and hyper boy when they first met him, matching Malon’s hyper energy. But now, he was jaded and serious, almost as if he was an adult trapped in a child’s body. Talon didn’t want to think about what he went through in the past year to get to that point, but he hoped that now Link knew that he didn’t have to face any of it alone, and that he had people to turn to.

He just had to wait for him to reach out.

[maximura]

[p1ctur3]

If I'm being honest, I actually want to see victim succeed in his revenge plan. Not because I emphasize with him and want to see him happy, but because it would break him.

We know that current day victim is defined by his revenge, his desire for revenge is pretty much his reason to live. So what will happen once he had finally summoned Alan and destroyed him?

Would he really just end everything and go back to a happy life after everything he did? I honestly want his defeat of Alan to be easy for him, because I don't want him to be satisfied with revenge. I need him to have the realization that by dedicating his life to revenge, he had made his life tied to Alan. Everyone else had moved on but him, he is the only one living in the past.

On a side tangent, I think not enough people acknowledge that revenge is a choice, yes there are factors that can push someone down revenge but it's still a choice. Victim choosing to pursue revenge is a choice made by the character. In fact, the choice proves victim had developed as a character over his time in the outernet. The victim that freshly escaped Alan's PC would have chosen to run away from the danger. However, current day victim chose revenge, in a way expressing his agency. Just because a character has agency doesn't mean they would make good decisions with it.

To add to that point, victim is genuinely insane to the other sticks. To most sticks, the dissapearance is basically a natural disaster, to them, victim is taking revenge on a natural disaster. There would have been more people hunting down chosen if that wasn't true. Also, do note that the cursor has been predrawn at the end at ava 11, victim has been anticipating the involvement of Alan even before he had the proof to do so.

Anyways, my point is that I want victim to succeed because it allows the narrative to strangle him and force him to move on. Because once he had done his revenge, what else is there left for him? I want that aspect to be explored, his world to shift beyond his past again. Victim has to be unfulfilled by revenge to move on. Basically, I want him to go through an existential crisis.

Alan, don't write victim to be John wick dammit.

[fatedroses]

More than just the Demon.