#it’s like a thing from when i was a wee child when my uncle had a lot of anime discs

[eviltext]

i need to watch speed grapher

[bokettochild]

Little Soldier Boy, Come Marching Home

I apparently had some Uncle Aflon brainrot (could y'all tell?) and it spawned this monster!

Not sure if I'm actually going to make a story about this, I mean a proper one, but this refused to let my brain rest until I wrote at least this much, so I figured I'd share it for the folks who kept sending me Aflon asks :)

(Yes I am very aware that the title is from a song, I'd recommend listening to the Reinaeiry cover on YouTube, because it's also rotted my brain since I listened to it and I think it suits Aflon and Legend quite well T-T)

-

  The first time he held Link, it was standing on the edge of the wood, away from the eyes of all the kingdom and under a veil of darkness. The forest chattered and whispered behind him, bringing to mind whispers of thieving Kolkiri and fae, and it had made him hold the babe in his arms all the tighter. 

  His sister-in-law was watching him closely, hands hovering, wary, like she didn’t trust him to hold the child quite right, ready every second to take the positively tiny bundle back from him and tuck that red and fitful face back against her own breast, hushing and cooing softly herself as she’d been when he’d arrived there. She didn’t though, although whether that was due to his own skill or some sort of restraint from the woman, he wasn’t certain. 

  “What’s the little ‘us name then?” He’d asked, pushing down the swaddling of rough fabric, far too rough for so small a thing, but lined carefully with far finer where no eyes could see. The child within trembled, cold air drawing a wavering wail from a tiny mouth. There wasn’t much to see anyways, he was a baby, same as anyone had ever had. Far smaller than Aflon had ever seen before though; so small he almost could hold him in one hand alone, but by all other means the tiny creature wasn’t much to look at. 

  Despite that though, Loretta’s dark gaze hadn’t lifted once from the infant, usually stern features awash with pure adoration as one trailing hand lifted the blanket back up to shield the babe once more. “Link.” 

  “Like the hero?” The dead one? 

  “Like the star,” her hands lingered so close to the face of her child, and in answer, the tiny one stilled, quieting as though some spell was laid over him. “Like the boy who brought hope to dark countries when Hyrule was at her worst.” 

  “Sir Raven’s squire.” 

  She’d nodded. “The same.” 

  And the child was just, well, a child; a tiny wee thing that felt so fragile to hands accustomed to the sword, and Aflon had shaken his head with a sigh, turning to Loretta with the question that had plagued him since he’d been given his riding orders this morning with the command to meet her here. “Why me?” 

  Those had been the words to make her draw back, pain welling up behind dark violet eyes that avoided his own. “There’s no one else I can ask.” 

  “He’s your son.” 

  “Which is the same as a sentence of death,” she’d hissed, tone harsh as her blade, “you know as well as I how Hyrule sees its crown. You took a vow the same as any other knight.” 

  He had. 

  “That child,” her child, “stands no chance, no matter what I do, if I keep him with me.” 

  Aflon had shifted, sparing the bundle in his arms a glance one more before murmuring, “his chances are pretty slim regardless, ‘Etta. Babes this small-” 

  “I know,” She’d run a finger along a tiny cheek, face pinching into something bordering on gentle, on sweet, something no one would describe the woman as save with her steads, “But it’s the best I can give him.” 

  He’d felt the weight of those words, the weight of their expectation, and all the more so when the Queen of all Hyrule had lifted violet eyes to hold his own and given him her final command. “Protect him, Aflon. He’s not just your prince, he’s your nephew, and I swear on hell’s ashes if you fail him, I will flay you.” Typically, he’d have assumed her words to be in jest, but the fire behind her eyes, a furious and dangerous love the likes of which he’s only heard tell of a mother for her babe, had made him take the words to heart. 

  “I won’t fail you, your grace.” 

  “No,” she’d stepped closer, pulled his arms down just a bit further so she could duck her head and press a kiss to a tiny cheek, “don’t fail him. All else doesn’t matter-” 

 “The princess-” 

 “I will mind the princess,” Loretta’s eyes had darkened, “and failing that, the Impa sent is a good one. Your priority is him,” and both of them had turned to the child, a child so tiny he almost weighed nothing, but yet lay so heavy in his arms with duty set beside him. “He needs you.” 

  And he did. He hadn’t seen it then, hadn’t felt it, but even a man made in blood and battle knows the worth of life. And so, somehow, he’d managed. 

  He’d carried his little charge back to the closest village and taken a room, managing to ignore the curious and lingering gazes of the locals at a young knight in full armor with a tiny baby in his arms.  

  In truth, he hadn’t been sure where to go from there. Loretta had entrusted him with her child, which meant all other missions, whatever they might be, were out of the question. His duty as a knight, as a soldier, was now changed, which, all considered, wasn’t the worst fate in the world. Still, he’d mused, staring at the tiny creature that slept more than he stirred, it’s not exactly the life he’d imagined for himself. 

  They’d always been knights, or so his own father had taught himself and his brother. The men in their family take up the sword and the women the plow and reigns of a rancher. Their older sister already is married with her own farm, and goodness knows Banzetta himself, though king consort, still carries his blade as the second in command to their warrior queen. For himself, Aflon has never imagined anything else than to serve as his forefathers, perhaps to marry, although there’s no woman who’s caught his eye as of yet, or at least none he’d be keen to stay beside for all his life. He can’t continue traveling Hyrule though, not with a tiny child in his care, not when the world out there is still so dangerous and dark. 

  For days, he’d stayed at the inn. He’d had no direction or clue, but he’d done his best to mind the tiny princeling in his care, although his attempts must have been very poorly indeed because it wasn’t long at all before two of the local village women had been knocking down his door and scolding him left right and sideways. 

  Without the women of Kakariko, Aflon could say for a certainty that neither he nor Link would have made it through that winter. They had though. The ladies of Kakariko nursed his precious nephew alongside their own children, taught himself how to change and clean a child, how to swaddle them up tight against the cold, how to burp and soothe them. He’d listened with care, listened like they were marching orders from a commanding officer, and he’d taken them all to heart, employing every bit of skill imparted to best fulfill his duty to the child in his care. 

  Thankful as he was for those women, the many mothers of Kakariko, young and old both, there was still, despite their care, a fear that gripped him each time one of them took up Link in their arms. The babe was a prince of Hyrule, and were that known it would be easy to stage some incident to see that the bad omen that was a royal son was no more. The women of the village would laugh, saying that anxiety for a child was normal, but they had no conception how deeply his fear ran each time one of them held the boy, each time he had to turn his back on his helpless charge for even the smallest of moments. 

  Come spring, he’d settled, bought a piece of land with the money he’d saved over the years and made a home for himself. As it happened, an old orchard had been up for sale, just close enough to the village to keep in touch with those who’d shown them kindness, but with enough distance that he no longer felt the need to be on the defense at all times against neighbors who might seek to harm the boy in his care. 

  They’d asked, some of the village folk, if the baby was his. For lack of a better response, he’d said Link was his brother’s. No one questioned it. Why would they? He was a stranger to them, and though chatter would sound on street corners wondering what had happened to lead him, ‘a clueless young man who hasn’t the faintest on how to mind a babe’ to have care of Link, but they’d never asked him anything more, just gone on offering advice. 

  That was fine though. That was better than them all assuming he was the father, because it felt wrong to allow such a misconception. He couldn’t say why, but when a parent still lives and wants their child, there’s no right for another to claim them as their own. Besides, he couldn’t be a father. 

  As it was, some days he felt he was doing a terrible job of being an uncle. 

  And he hadn’t thought of himself as such at first, but somewhere amid long nights sitting up, just watching labored breaths from a body almost too frail to take them, somewhere amid whispered words with doctors who’d told him to let go already, with midwives who’d urged him to keep fighting as long as his little one did, somewhere along the line of spending every day forever in the presence of the child, there’d come a day when he’d stopped worrying about his charge, and where he’d started fretting about his nephew. 

  Maybe it was those moments of clarity and wakefulness when big bright eyes would stay up at him, so curious. When floppy little ears would follow the sounds of his voice, or tiny hands would cling fast to an offered finger, toothless jaws working at its tip with little coos and warbles. He couldn’t say. But somewhere in that first winter he’d gone from a knight with a charge to an uncle with a nephew, and he’d never wanted to go back. 

  Sure, it was hard some days. Link was a sickly baby from the start, and he grew slowly. He was bright though, so very bright, like a star as his mother had said, and with every passing day those eyes so like the queen’s own had filled up with their own constellations of joy and smiles, tiny hands clapping, little feet stumbling.  

  Despite all concerns and doubts, his little Link beat the odds. 

  The child was his sunshine. He’d never been a very social man, so the company of a single boy wasn’t bad at all in his opinion. Granted, with just the two of them it had raised concerns when Link hadn’t learned to speak when he should, and for a time he’d wondered if perhaps it was for a lack of him having used words enough for the little one to know them, but in time he’d accepted that words weren’t to be had, and while some village folk would murmur that a changeling might have been traded for his precious bundle, stolen by jealous kolkiri in vengeance for their own lost little one, he’d never minded too much. He’d learned to speak with his hands from the village elder, and so Link had as well, and by that means they’d gotten along quite well until the wee one had made up his mind to try for actual sounds. 

  His old friends from the army were company at times, stopping in between missions and runs, catching a drink or a place to stay. He used to worry about exposing Link to the life he’d known among them, but in front of the child they’d all minded well, many even offering help and kindness he’d never dare to ask for. Some had children of their own, they said, others younger siblings. Regardless of the reason though, not a man would enter his home as didn’t have a kind word for his nephew, and while worry still brewed up within to see Loretta’s child among men sworn to prevent his existence, not a one had ever guessed at the truth. 

  And then everything had changed when Link turned eight. 

  He’d been talking by then. Belated though it was, words would come to him at times, although he’d prefer his hands over his tongue. Despite the murmurs of locals though, the boy was bright, sitting up more often than not with whatever book Aflon could find for him and positively devouring anything inside of them, big violet eyes near glittering in delight at the world painted for his eager mind, at the discoveries and worlds and words and stories- heavens did his little star love the stories! He had ever so much to say about what he read, and a smile brighter than the sun itself, and small though he still was, weak though he’d likely always be, Aflon adored the boy that ran to his arms at every day’s end and shared home and heart with him. 

  He’d had doubts, in the beginning, that he could settle to a quiet life, but it never felt quiet with Link so eagerly learning about it beside him, indeed, it felt like he’d only just learned what it was to be alive for himself! 

  And every day was a new adventure, teaching his nephew something new or finding himself taught some lesson or fact. Every night was settling down before the fire and holding firm against the plea of “one more page!” before smothering his precious Link in mustachioed kisses and tucking him in tight against the chill of the night. Sometimes they were disturbed with guests and his efforts would be in vain, but nine times out of ten when that did happen, Captain Bertram or Major Wilkins would take the lad back to bed and recount enough stories to finally have him dozing off against them, ready to be tucked back in again upon their departure. 

  He wouldn’t have changed that life for the world though. 

  Yet, the world seemed to have other plans. 

  Link had startled awake in the middle of a storm one night, tearfully insisting that something was wrong, that there was danger, that Zelda, the sister he didn’t know was his even then, was in danger and that she’d told him so herself.  

  To another man, it might have been nothing, just a bad dream, but Aflon had himself woken before to the sound of startled cries sounding through an army camp. He could remember when the queen would awake from a vision while traveling with himself and his brother, and many a time, Banzetta had recounted to him when it happened that he hadn’t seen. It was in their blood, the people of Hyrule would say, that those of the royal line would sometimes be given visions, often of future events and or trouble brewing beyond even the eyes of the Sheikah. That was how all the prophecies surrounding his own family had come about, how the reappearance of a hero had been foretold. 

  So, upon hearing such strange words from the mouth of his nephew, rather than beg him return to bed or otherwise ignore it, Aflon had taken it to heart. After all, he’d been reminded, looking down at the tear-stained face at his bedside, Link may be his nephew, but he was also still Loretta’s son; still born with the blood of the crown, a prince of Hyrule. 

   So, although Loretta had told him to leave Zelda’s care to herself long ago, back when she and Banzetta were still alive and before some mission had gone awry and the both were lost forever- despite the fact that the Impa chosen by the sheikah had, indeed, never once failed in her duties, he’d still chosen to attend to the fears of his nephew and brave the storm, just in case. He’d chosen to risk it, even if it did mean he’d strayed from his orders. 

  He wishes every day that he hadn’t.  

  If only he’d done as Loretta said and minded Link first and foremost, maybe nothing would have changed. If only he’d promised that in the morning they would go together- although, looking back, he knows the princess would have been dead by that time if he had. 

  He’s long come to grips with the fact that whatever he had done, there would have been no happy ending, but even so, he still hates himself that he had allowed what happened next. 

  Rather than tell him to go home, rather than protect him, shield him from the world his mother never wanted him to know, Aflon had looked into the terrified eyes of his nephew, down in the depths of the castle sewers where the boy had followed him against his orders, he’d used his final breaths to push a sword and shield into hands too small to hold them, bidding the child go to save Zelda. He’d known he was dying, he’d known Link was scared, but at that little obedient nod, he’d also known something more: 

  His death would leave Link the last of their bloodline, and a prophecy given to a queen long ago had once said that it would be the last of them that would face Ganon when next he emerged. Looking at eyes the same as Loretta’s own, albeit far kinder, he’d found himself reminded of those words, and sickeningly certain that he was witnessing the birth of that hero. His little Link who wanted to be a farmer, who didn’t know how to fight and who was still so tiny, so young, was going to become the Hero of Hyrule. 

  Though he’d been bleeding out as they spoke, he’s rather certain it was heartbreak that had been his undoing, not the wound in his side, and he’d drawn his final breath to the sound of sniffled tears. 

  Yet, it seemed his eyes had only just closed before they were opening again, pain gone and so too his young charge. At first, he’d thought perhaps he’d struck his head somehow and dreamed the whole thing, but both sword and shield were gone as well, although when he reached the end of the sewer system the prison was quiet, empty of any princess, and when he’d turned back and returned to the outside world, not only was it daylight, but it was spring. 

  It had been a late autumn storm that he’d traveled through to reach the castle. 

  He’d thought, hoped, that it was some trick, but when he’d hurried along back towards town, to the house, everyone he passed seemed to think nothing at all of the fact that they were plowing fields and making ready for a planting. They were preparing for a new year of work, as though the winter itself wasn’t supposed to be coming, as though it had already happened! And there were still bits of snow lying about. There was a dampness to the ground of a fresh fallen rain. The world itself seemed insistent it tell him that he was wrong. But if he was, then where had the time gone, and what had happened? Where was Link and why was his side unmarred as though never an ax had plowed through it? 

  His feet had all but flown down the paths, paying little or no mind to those he passed or the startled shouts they sent his way. His goal had been set; his destination desperately darted towards. 

  The house looked entirely normal when he’d finally reached it. The orchard was beginning to brighten, not yet blooming, still expecting another snap of cold before the season truly sprung, but they were well along to blossoming. The path was clear, nothing and no one on it, and when he’d come to the door, he’d found it locked up tight. As it should be, as he’d left it, as he’d taught Link to leave it. He still had his key with him even though his sword was missing, and though his hands trembled he’d still managed to fish it out and, with some struggle, had gotten it into the lock. 

  The house looked the same as it had when he left. Clean as a whistle because a soldier’s training still lingered with him even after eight years and that expectation was one that he’d taught Link to hold himself to as well. Their beds were made sloppily, as though the boy had tried to do it for him after he’d left and maybe given up after, or else simply been unable to see, from his height, how crookedly the blankets had been lain. Most notably though, Aflon had noted, there wasn’t much in the way of dust. There wasn’t much in the way of dirt. The only difference that he found was that the pot, which he kept by the door for spare rupees, was empty. 

  His breath had evened some at that. A clean house meant someone had minded it, and missing rupees were nothing if it meant Link hadn’t been left to starve in the unidentified period of time where Aflon had been absent. 

  Or so he had thought. 

  It was two days later, two days he’d spent searching the whole neighborhood, quite at the end of his rope in fear as Link hadn’t been seen at all in that time, when at last he’d laid eyes on his nephew. 

  Or rather, when he’d met the hero. 

  Because the wary creature that entered the cottage door and froze, hand on a sword and dark eyes so large in a thin face, was not his nephew. Because his nephew would have run to him with maybe a few tears or a cheer, jumping into his arms with a hug rather than start and draw a blade the moment Aflon made a motion towards him. 

  Link didn’t fear him. 

  The boy who came to him in Link’s stead did. 

  When he voiced his worries to the women who’d helped to mind the lad over the years, some would say perhaps he’d been taken, changed for a changeling by the forest children, at last getting their hands on a hero to replace their own. Others just shook their heads and sighed, unwilling to explain why. 

  He’d known though that the child in his home wasn’t a changeling though. No, because that child had eyes every bit as much like the late queen. Eyes that knew war, and battle, that bore the burden of a kingdom which dragged on too small shoulders, eyes that Knew, that Looked, and eyes that Saw people for what they were, not simply what they’d claim to be. There was no doubt, looking at that boy, that he was Loretta’s son. 

  But he wasn’t Aflon’s nephew. 

  Link was bright and bubbly, quieter by nature but prone to prattling when the mood took him. The silent little thing that lived in his house, wary like a rabbit hunted and hidden, was a stark contrast. Link liked to travel with him, going to town for any errands and skip-tripping along the path at his side, getting distracted by small creatures and ever full of questions.  

  Not only did the hero avoid going out of the house when he could, preferring instead to stay inside behind a locked-up door and shuttered windows, but when he did go out, the lad was ever scanning the world, ever watching the sky and the path as though expecting an attack from one or the other. He didn’t stray off towards sudden changes, curious ears cocked, he put a hand to his shoulder and looked for a blade. 

  The child that came back to him held the manner and look of an old knight, not a child too young to even be a page, and it disturbed him. He tried though. This was Loretta’s son, the prince of Hyrule, and as he’d later learned, the boy had indeed become the country’s hero. Not that the boy had told him that himself. No, the child in his home didn’t speak, tongue faltering and sounds stuttering before hands would lift to answer questions in as few words as possible. 

  Two of his fingers were crooked, Aflon realized, watching him, heart aching. Two fingers and, in those first days, he’d favor one leg over the other. 

  He wanted to help, but the boy was wary of touch, starting and panicking as a first reaction if he didn’t see it coming and wincing even when he could. He kept a wide space between himself and anyone, a swords-distance, Aflon realized after a spell, although as for the blade he carried, well, that had disappeared after the first few weeks. It wasn’t the sword he’d handed to his nephew though. The sword that the hero held was unfamiliar to him; radiant, beautiful, masterfully forged so that his own blade paled in comparison. His was absent, and the one time he had asked what happened to it, he’d just watched violet eyes fall and shoulders hunch, and immediately changed the subject. 

  It was hard. His nephew looked the same as Loretta’s child, same face, same form, same stature, although time had made her changes too. The boy was scrawny, and though he had hoped his lost rupees meant his charge was still fed even with him gone, he’d come to doubt that. 

  He wasn’t sure what to make of it when, at learning of his own return, one of the neighbors down the road had invited them both for dinner, and the hero child had only stared at his own plate, stirring the food around but not eating. He’d dismissed it at first, but soon it became abundantly clear that the hero would not eat food he couldn’t watch being prepared, not unless it was a meal offered by Aflon himself, and, to his own surprise, Dolly, the village elder’s wife. 

  Somehow, both she, Dolly, and Sahasralah, the elder, were the only ones who seemed unaffected by how his charge had changed. In fact, more than once, Aflon would find himself watching, wistful, as the two would speak with or even handle the hero with not a thing done to show fear in response. Simple acceptance met their motions, their words, and at times he’d almost been tempted to ask if maybe the boy that wore Link’s face wanted to stay with them instead, as he seemed so much more at peace in their home. 

  He didn’t though. He’d sworn a vow, a vow to do his duty to his prince, to his queen, and though he wasn’t certain if Loretta’s spirit would haunt him if he failed that, he wasn’t exactly keen to find out. 

  He couldn’t leave her son with strangers, with people she didn’t know or trust. Still, as the days passed, house silent as a crypt and the boy inside nearly the corpse it housed, he’d found the temptation growing daily. 

  At night as he’d blow out the lamps, now knowing full well not to approach his charge in the dark and sometimes fearing to even look at him (because what looked back was a slip of a shade with eyes glinting red like a rabbit’s in the low light of the hearth and by all means hardly human) he’d fight his own mind on the matter. Stay or leave, linger with what wasn’t any longer what he’d sword to protect, the child that wasn’t his nephew but was a hero. 

  Loretta said to protect him, he’d remind himself as he lay beneath the blankets. Yet, small hands knew the touch of blood, and the boy who’d wandered in at his door knew a blade like knights four times his age still hadn’t learned. Lying there at night, he’d wonder to himself, what was there left to protect the boy from? Loretta’s child already had seen everything she wanted to shield him from, so what was even the point, when there was no more innocence to shield? 

  It was that thinking, after weeks, months, that had led to him gathering up clothing and books, toys left behind because the person who would leave with him wasn’t a child but a young soldier, so what did they matter? He’d packed things up, watched the hero slip to his side to help, dutifully but silently gathering Link’s clothes and folding them up with the same careful effort Link always did, ending with the same misshapen result, and tucking them away like they would do every summer for the trip back to his own childhood home. 

  He’d locked the door tight that summer. Shut up the shutters and minded that nothing was left untended, no mess within or without. Long ears had cocked sideways, big eyes watching, curious, but nothing was said with scarred hands holding their bags while he prepared the house for their departure. 

  Most summers, he’d take Link down to Lon-Lon so the boy could stay with his grandparents and Aflon could attend to the heavier tasks of their orchard without worrying over minding the lad or leaving him feeling alone. This year though, after Mother had ushered the boy within the ranch house, shooting him a startled stare over his shoulder, he’d not gone back to the cottage. 

  Aflon Lon had, instead, taken to the road. 

  Guilt ate at him, but he’d known there was no going back.  

  He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he couldn’t return to the house. It wasn’t home without the laughter of his nephew, without bright eyes and brighter smiles. It wasn’t home without a presence at his side working away at the trees, muttering and talking at times to the birds who’d stop to watch them in their labor. It wasn’t home without Link, and Link- or at least the boy he knew, was gone. 

 So, he’d wandered Hyrule. He hadn’t traveled in a long while, but it was easy to take up again, to wander the roads by day and make camp at night. He stopped in old haunts he used to visit as a knight to see how they had changed, and he’d thought nothing of his wanderings. After all, it was summer; the summers were always free for him to do what he wanted. It was when autumn had begun to show her colors that guilt had well and truly began to build up inside of him. 

  Link would be waiting at the gates of Lon-Lon, watching the road for his uncle to come and bring him home. He knew it wouldn’t be the same eager stare, ears crooked and head rested on folded arms as the boy would perch on the rungs of the fence, leaning his whole weight against it and keeping eyes and ears on the road. The hero child would likely sit with more wariness, but despite all changes there was no doubt in Aflon’s mind that he’d wait all the same. 

  The difference though, the real one, was that this time, Aflon couldn’t come back. He couldn’t. 

  He couldn’t go back to that house, that child, he couldn’t live like that forever, with the shade of what should have been. 

  Mother and Father though, they could handle a soldier boy. They’d handled Banzetta after his first battles, they’d know how to work with Loretta, and if they could manage the parents of his own charge, he was sure theft were the best suited to handling a young hero. Not only that, but they were safe, they were good, and they’d never hurt Link for the circumstances of his birth. They would be better to him than Aflon could be, and given time, he was sure the hero would settle there again, into a life with a knight, a lady, a history of heroes all around him on the walls and swords ready for his hands; the life he’d taken on, but one Aflon couldn’t watch lived. 

  As for himself, he’d wander. He’d travel, he’d embrace the world he’d had to forsake for a small bundle. By winter, he’d gone further south than he’d ever strayed, gone where word of the hero didn’t reach, where peace and simplicity beckoned. He’d meant to resist, but an evening in a bar with a pretty woman at his side had changed that. 

  “Here alone, stranger?” She’d asked, voice thick with a drawl and gaze bold as she’d settled beside him. 

  He’d never been a bold man, quiet by nature, so he’d nodded. 

  She hadn’t been dissuaded, motioning to the barkeep for a round for them both before striking up chatter, asking where he was from? What brought him here? Where was he going? And his answer of course had been that he was from central Hyrule, seeking his fate and unsure where he’d find it. 

  “D’ya have a family?” She’d asked, honest and friendly. “Can’t be easy for them not knowing where you are.” 

  And he’d hesitated, just a moment, before offering a stilted smile and answering “just my parents and a sister.” 

  A sister who’d left, he told her, to marry a man from across the border, who visited at times but was busy with a farm and a family of her own, much like his own parents were even in their older age. He’d said nothing of a nephew, just the same as he’d left out the dead older brother and sister-in-law. 

  He’d lingered in that town for a few more days, and she’d been at the pub each night, coming to join him when he entered and striking up chatter until they were both looking forwards to the evening when they’d happen upon each other. Somehow though, that had turned to arranged meetings, to wandering, to talking, to a kiss that left him speechless and a courtship that left him stumbling and eager like he hadn’t been since he was just a boy. 

  He’d wondered how she hadn’t had a fella before he’d come, but he’d thanked the heavens for it too, especially when he’d proposed, when they’d taken a home together, when they’d made the choice to live life together. 

  It was easy to forget, for a while, in that early bliss, in the whirlwind of emotions, what he’d left behind to find it. He was reminded though when their own little one was born, when a little boy had been laid in his arms and he’d started when blue shone back at him rather than violet. 

  Liza would laugh and tease him, calling him a worrywart when he fussed. She’d say it was like he’d never held a child before; he was so cautious. She’d remind him to relax, when she found him sitting up and watching the wee one slumber, because he was healthy, he was fine, they needn’t worry so much because while babies need care, they won’t break if you breathed wrong. 

  Aflon couldn’t help himself though. 

  He was used to looking for signs of trouble, for any hint of illness. He’d started when their boy had started babbling, started talking, at only two years old. Liza had said that was normal, that they wouldn’t stay babies forever, that it was part of growing up. Still, he’d found himself signing more than speaking with the boy, and more times than he could count, the wrong name had slipped to his lips. 

  Their son had dark hair like his mother, blue eyes like Aflon himself, but it always startled him to see them. It was supposed to be strawberry blonde, with starlit skies veiled beneath. He expected a slip of a child who was quiet but eager, not a loud little thing that ran and darted and climbed and made him panic because Link was fragile! …except this wasn’t Link, and his son was strong, like him, like Liza. His son was bold, loud, like a little boy was supposed to be, not timid and wary like the boy he’d left behind. 

  It never stopped catching him off guard though. Their little Rusl didn’t care anything for books, or reading, or sitting still. He was always off with other children of the village; he was always climbing trees and ‘sword fighting’ other young ones with twigs they’d find on the roadside. 

  He was a normal boy, all told, but somehow that was more jarring, in so many ways, than if he hadn’t been. Because Aflon had never dealt with a normal boy, he realized. Even Before, his Link hadn’t been normal, he just hadn’t known to see it. 

  It was strange, how often Rusl would stare, watching people without those hesitant little falters that Link always had when someone met his eyes. He didn’t pay attention to the little details, didn’t care to watch the sky or the sun. He didn’t care about stars or tiny creatures or pouring over books the same size as himself for hours. 

  The one thing that the two boys did have in common though, was a love for stories of heroes. 

  Link used to bury his little button nose in the volumes of history that told of the Hero of the Four Sword, the Hero of the Skies: the chosen hero. Rusl didn’t read much, but one day he’d come back to their home with Liza after errands, and he’d had nothing on his mind except some story he’d heard about the Hero of Legends. 

  Aflon had paused in making dinner, frowning because he’d never heard of that hero before, because Link never spoke of that title. 

  “Who is the Hero of Legend?” He’d asked, turning to the dirt streaked four-year-old at the door. 

  “He’s who killed Ganon and saved Princess Zelda!” Had been his answer. “He’s so cool, I wish he’d come to our village so I could meet him!” 

  He hadn’t realized, until Liza had darted across the kitchen and scooped up the pot, that their meal had boiled over, or that it’d burned his hand when it did. 

  Rusl and his friends would talk about Link, pretend to be Link, say they wanted to be heroes like him, be knights, be brave. He’d be in the village and stories would sound, gossip between neighbors recounting the latest exploits of the Hero of Legend. He’d killed Ganon twice, he’d traveled the world, he’d saved Labrynna from a witch, he’d fought some tyrant down in Holodrum. Everyone had a different rumor that they’d heard, everyone a different thought on what the hero might be like. Despite all they’d chatter about though, all he could see in his own mind was a boy with heavy eyes and crooked fingers that trembled when he used them to talk. 

  Aflon had gone home that day, after hearing all the chatter, all the stories, all the news that had come down to them from some merchant who’d strayed to town, and he’d told Liza he was taking a trip. 

  “Just for a few days,” he’d said, wrapping arms around her and trying to smile, even though he’d known she’d see past it. “Just to see how my parents are doing.” He’d left out the part about his old house, about the child he’d raised inside it. He knew it was wrong, felt guilt eat away each time his mind turned there, but he’d never let slip about the boy he’d raised before meeting her, the child he’d left behind. 

  Link, as he’d known him, was gone, why speak of what wasn’t there any longer? Why drag everything he’d tried to leave behind into the perfection he’d stumbled himself into? 

  Still, he needed to know, needed to see, and maybe, just maybe, he’d wanted to see Loretta’s boy again, just to assure himself that he was alright, because try as he might, much as he wished, worry still plagued his heart for the little soldier boy he’d left at Lon-Lon. 

  He’d stopped by the house first, if only out of curiosity for what had become of it. It had been years, had the village elders sold it? Left it be? He didn’t know, so he’d taken the road around Kakariko, hood up as he passed old neighbors, boots stumbling some on a path he knew better than that back to his own wife and child. 

  The cottage hadn’t changed a bit. Standing on the path, apple trees shivering in a slight breeze, he’d almost felt a decade younger, almost tricked himself into thinking he’d need only open the old wood door, the door whose key still sat heavy in his pocket, and a bright little face would whip around to meet him, gap-toothed grin his welcome home as feet would pit-patter across the worn-out floors. Maybe it was that image that tricked his feet into walking, following a path altered only by shade of trees grown taller in his absence, their fruit hanging heavy but not yet ready to be plucked.  

  It’d be cider making season soon, he’d mused to himself, hand digging through his pocket for a key he couldn’t name why he still carried. Absently, he wondered if the old press was still down in the basement, if Link- because it must be Link- had minded to keep it oiled and tended, or if he’d left off using it. After all, the former knight chuckled, the boy couldn’t even turn the handle fully on his own, now could he? 

  His mind had been so caught in his thoughts he hadn’t been minding his surroundings, pushing the door open after a moment’s struggle (the key stuck more than it once used to) and moving to enter his old home. He hadn’t expected to be immediately whacked over the head, nor, when he’d picked himself up again, to find himself face to… face(?) with a masked figure. 

  “We aren’t open!” The purple clad individual had declared, mallet in hand, and a small creature with wings- which could in no ways be considered a bird- fluttering about at his shoulders, squawking and hissing something terrible. “And if you thought you could break in, you’re dead wrong!” 

  Aflon had blinked, slowly, and then started, gaze flying about the house briefly. 

  It wasn’t changed, not really. Pictures were all taken down and boxes were tucked against the walls, but the couch, the rocking chair, the china-cabinet, it was all still there, still in the same places, now with new stains and scuffs, but he could recognize them all the same. Really, the only major difference was the desk near the door scattered over with glittering items and objects, little price tags set before them in poor mimicry of a shop. 

  He wasn’t sure if the purple clad figure was meant to be here or not, but given that the house still technically belonged to him, he’d been more than slightly caught off guard. 

  “I’m not here for a shop, I- who are you?” 

  “Who are you?” The apparent merchant had demanded in answer, face shielded behind a hood that looked like it was meant to resemble a very, very odd face. “And why are you here?” Their voice was trembling slightly, but they stood firm despite. 

  “I live- or, well…” he’d paused, picking himself up and dusting himself off, “I used to live here. This was my house- still is actually, I’ve just been away.” 

  Despite not being able to see the merchant’s eyes, he could feel the apprehension in their gaze, weighty as it was as they looked up at him, one hand on their hip and the other holding fast to their oversized mallet. “You must have the wrong house; this one belongs to Mister Hero.” 

  Oh. 

  “You mean Link?” 

  “You know him?” Their head cocked on one side, hood following with a flap of long ear-like attachments. 

  Aflon had nodded briefly. “Do you?” 

  “Of course!” And suddenly the mallet was gone, the figure gesturing about with a cheery chirp now entering their tone. “He’s my housemate! Lets me stay here, keep up the shop while he’s gone and all that lovely sort of thing. Didn’t realize he had a landlord himself though! So terribly sorry if he’s been stiffing you on rent, he’s been out of town for forever now, you see.” 

  He’d nodded. He hadn’t known what better to do. 

  The stranger had introduced themselves as Ravio, offered to show him their wares, but when asked about Link had firmly insisted that he knew nothing more than that the hero was off on some mission for the crown or something and that he was just keeping the house in order for him. 

  It had been all Aflon needed to hear though. Link was still alive, apparently having embraced his role as the hero, and it seemed he wasn’t alone. He must have left the farm at some time, but seeing as he was approaching fifteen it made sense. He’d been rather eager for his freedom at that age too. 

  The kid would be fine, he’d told himself, walking back to Liza and Rusl. Link didn’t need him; he was getting along fine. 

  Somehow, even with the whole trip home to convince himself of that, it hadn’t worked. In fact, now he couldn’t stop thinking about it, slipping more with Rusl, drifting off at home. Liza wouldn’t let him in the kitchen anymore, insisting that he was too prone to forgetting what he’d been doing, too likely to hurt himself because he wasn’t paying attention. She’d begged him to see a doctor, or talk to her, but he’d waved it off, saying he was just tired, just thinking, he was fine; he just needed to rest. He knew she didn’t believe him, but she’d stopped asking at least. 

  If only he could stop himself thinking as easily. 

  But as the months and seasons passed, more worry had grown, more thoughts. 

  Link is turning sixteen this winter. Sixteen years since he’d stood on the edge of the wood with the queen of Hyrule and taken her child in his arms, promising to guard him. Only eight of those years were spent keeping that promise, only half, and he’d startled when he’d realized it. Even now, he’s left wondering, as he braves a storm so like that night that robbed him of his precious nephew, has Link changed? What is he like now? Did he ever grow into those too-big ears of his? Did he learn to look men in the eyes when he spoke to them, to steady his voice and hold himself with surety and not simply just skill? 

 His boy will be becoming a man, and he doesn’t know what that man looks like. 

  Or rather, he didn’t. 

  Because when he comes home, drenched to the bone but with a fresh kill in hand, ready for dinner, ready for him to show Rusl how to skin and prepare it, he finds his house full of strangers, his wide smiling and telling him that they’re travelers, more boys than men, and they need a place to stay but the inn is so far. Of course he greets them, of course he looks at men in armor and offers a smile like he would to his old brothers in arms, welcomes them to his home. 

  He didn’t realize, until just now, how much he missed hosting people fresh off the path he once used to follow, how much he missed their stories or sharing a smoke or a drink with men like himself once in a while, not just farming folk (nice as they are). 

  He’s midway to offering the a warm welcome when his eyes stray to the fire and he finds himself freezing. 

  Great violet eyes, shaded heavy under strawberry blonde, plastered down by dampness and the storm that howls just outside the door, stare up at him. 

  His breath catches. 

  It’s Loretta’s face, freckled and fine, fae-like features and faint traces of scars, upturned nose and steady jaw, but the galaxies that gaze out from violet pools aren’t the queen, even if everything else about the figure at his fire is. No, those stars are all Link, all his nephew, and the weight of that stare, not sure and stern like his sister-in-law but yet also not startled and wide like that day eight years back when he’d first met the hero. 

  In the same breath, it’s the dead queen and the young hero that sits before him. It’s Loretta with accusing eyes, fire burning in their depths as his own words ring in his head, sounding a promise, a vow to do as she’d said, to guard and guide her son, to protect him, no matter what. Yet it’s Link, it’s that little boy with eyes that know a demon’s smile and remember him bathed in his own blood. 

  If his heart had failed him when he’d first put a sword in the hands of his nephew, it’s ache is a thousand times worse as he stares at the result of that action, even as it refuses to cease in an endless flutter inside him as shock touches the face of the little soldier boy he’d left behind eight years ago, but who’s somehow, some way, found his way back before Aflon’s fire, staring up at him with the same startled gaze that shook and broke his world so long ago. 

  His knees hit the floor even as Liza cries out in concern, hands fluttering about him, but he can’t lift his eyes to look at her. Instead, he’s trapped in an endless expanse of dying stars. 

  “Link.” 

  Long ears, still too big for his nephew, turn his way at the sound of his voice, the answer coming out breathless and disbelieving. “Uncle?” 

[astonmartinii]

F1 ASKS!

i saw this tag floating around and wanted to let yall get to know me better since i’ve been doing this a while and have only really spoken in the form of authors notes! also im not going to tag anyone so just do it if you wanna!

who is your favourite driver?

i think for anyone who has read anything i’ve ever written it’s probably a bit obvious but max verstappen! what can i say little me was told we’re supporting red bull and here was this little charmer (emphasis on little who let that child get into an F1 car)

do you have other favourite drivers?

also based on my writing you can probably tell that my top three are max, charles and oscar! however, i will also say that alex is a close fourth for me (he’s also very nice irl). also as for retired drivers i think the mamma mia series is a bit of a spoiler but i love jenson, seb and kimi

who is your least favourite driver?

i used to say i didn’t dislike anyone on the grid - that was a lie. i’ll still write for anyone within reason but you can also probably tell with how in detail the back and forth is on certain pieces that i am really not a fan of sainz, actually people who get yelled at while i write them would argue it’s more than “not really being a fan of” but i am fake and i have maintained that if i meet him at silverstone (which i very nearly did last year) ill tell him im his biggest fan! also not the biggest fan of like pierre he’s just kinda there for me and a wee bit too cringey ALSO what you may not be able to guess from how i write him… im not really a fan of lando! ive really, really tried especially after his win but he just kinda rubs me the wrong way (i was immediately proven right with the trump comments lol). people say i should pull for him cause he’s from bristol which is where i live but he’s from glastonbury babe - also ive done a few swimming competitions at the school he went to a WOAH baby has so much money.

do you pull for drivers or do you like teams as well?

i mostly pull for drivers but like i guess i like red bull? well i did. i love max so i would follow him everywhere but i did like red bull as well as a team (i like alex, danny and checo so that also helps) but this whole protection of christian horner shtick is really disappointing so id say im a driver person.

if you like teams, who do you pull for?

like i said red bull were the team id pick if i HAD to follow a team - i support chelsea so i cant handle even more disappointment if i followed ferrari and also i only like charles there and they’re the source of all of his misfortune so …

how long have you been into F1?

so my family has always been into F1, my cousin karts and my uncle is a mechanic and makes karts on the side but i had always been more into football cause i could actually go to that with my dad - and also for young me who didn’t know what the fuck a strategy was it seemed kinda boring. but i’d say from maybe 2016ish i started watching it more regularly (hence the max stanship). my mum loves it and her first love in the sport was mark webber which is why we like red bull. but yeah i remember watching max’s first win and was like MUM I WANT THAT ONE (and i have technically met him? idk we made eye contact when his taxi nearly ran over my foot)

what got you into F1?

my mum! i love her and she’s just as much a passionate fan (and hater when appropriate) so it’s a nice thing to do together - especially because me and my dad are season ticket holders at chelsea so spend a lot of time together doing that so this is like my sport time with my mum (along with the olympics that’s our shit we’re very excited for the swimming). so i guess it was being around her watching it and listening to her and my dad argue about it! my mum is an ardent seb supporter and my dad is like a twitter account away from being in teamLH so canada 2018 (2019?) was VERY entertaining. also my uncle loves it so he likes that im proper into it (like have a sports journalism degree) and so we always chat about it - he’s trying to recruit me into motogp next

do you enjoy fanfic/RPF?

i mean i’ve written so much i must love it. lol jokes i do enjoy it and i feel like it helps me like people more (case in point: when i was trying to make myself enjoy the lando win i just read my own fics of him LOL)

but also its something fun to do that’s also creative and has helped me make new friends from all over

how do you view new fans?

ugh i hate the hate new fans get like not everyone can be born into loving a sport? if anything the more people that watch and love the sport the more money it’ll make? idk this whole superiority complex some fans have is just so unneeded for the sport and we all know why is majorly directed at girls. i do fear that some of the new fan behaviours could border on worrying - waiting outside hotels and ambushing drivers is stalking actually!

but overall im always happy to have new people in a sport - a bigger community is always good and new fans bring new perspectives which is good as older fans may just be desensitised to “normal” things in the sport but new eyes can remind them - hey halos are the best thing to happen to F1 and red flags in heavy rain are necessary.

if you could take over as any team principal for any team who would it be and why?

i know i previously dunked on ferrari but there needs to be an intervention because my girly max already has three championships and i need charles to get at least one so i can die happy - then ill move to mclaren, kick zak brown up the ass get a piastri championship and bounce (honourary race with willams or whatever team alex is with cause i need all three 2019 rookies to be race winners)

are your friends and family into F1 as well?

i feel like my other answers answered this but yeah! i also recently reconnected with an old primary school friend who is also really into it. i went to a sports uni so basically everyone there liked it as well (which means me and a friend did trek to the F1 arcade at 4am to watch aus 23 where she had a public meltdown over sainz (i enjoyed it)). also ive made a couple friends through working at races!

are you open to talking to other fans/making friends?

i always am! i am a year out of uni and working from home with all my home friends still at uni after taking gap years so i am big time lonely so always feel free to slide into my messages!

[miitgaanar]

Whumptober prompt! Requested by @serpenthyne!

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST

Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | “It’s not your fault.”

Do not read this <3 I cannot stress that enough <3

***************

Winter’s bite had begun to fade by the time Mikaila was well enough to be out and about.  Patches of green poked through the slowly shrinking piles of snow, and once near absent songbirds could be heard even within the densely populated streets of Durlyne.  It was as if Ssael himself wished to welcome his favored daughter back to the land of the living with a splash of color.

But Addilyn couldn’t help the frown that pulled at her lips as she spied the girl’s pallid features, her tell-tale Soud green eyes dull and lacking that familiar mischievous gleam.

“Oi, lass,” Addilyn said, forcing a playful lilt into her voice.  “Don’t you be scheming over there.  I won’t have you spelling my sword soggy when I have to assist in training later.”

Mikaila looked up from where she sat on one of the stone benches lining the temple’s pathways, the barest smile painted upon her pale lips.  Even so, it didn’t quite reach her eyes.  Addilyn’s heart nearly split at the sight.

She hadn’t seen the little spellwright since the weeks following that harrowing night, and even then Mikaila had spent much of it in a fitful slumber, burning with fever and writhing in terrible pain.  Addilyn had felt so helpless, the vibrant little troublemaker at death’s door with naught but prayers to be said in the hope that the doctor could keep her from the khert’s grasping hands.

But the wee lass was strong, a fighter if she had ever seen one, and she’d beaten back the very same khert that had taken her father.

And yet the sight before her left Addilyn at a loss.  It wasn’t grief or fear that lined the girl's features.  She seemed… troubled.  Haunted.

Addilyn hadn’t known what to expect when Lemuel announced that he’d be bringing his newfound daughter to the temple, but this somehow felt worse than a hysterical child’s weeping.  

A sigh escaped her as Addilyn moved to sit beside Mikaila, the stone’s cold surface seeping into her trousers and making her shiver.

“You’ve been awful quiet since your doting uncle left you in my care,” Addilyn said with an air of levity.  “And here I’d been ready to be wowed by tales of your valiant victory over the Crescian invaders.”

Mikaila’s small, gloved hands clenched into tightly balled fists, her gaze averted to the ground.  “Can I ask you something, Addie?”

Addilyn blinked in surprise, her brow raised.  “Of course.”

A quiet moment passed, one in which Addilyn could hear the distant sounds of a hound’s baying.  “Do you think I did enough?” Mikaila finally asked.

“Enough—?”  Addilyn was struck speechless.  Among the short list of things she expected her to ask, that was not among them.  “What do you mean?”

“Everyone talks about that night like I did something special.  Like I fought them off and saved the day.”  Her voice was low, but sharp as a knife’s edge.  “But I could have done more.  I know I could have.  But Papa was hurt and there were so many of them and—”

Mikaila trailed off then, her little shoulders trembling.  Addilyn thought she had begun to cry, expected to see tears streaming down her pale cheeks as hiccupping sobs built up in her chest—but her eyes were dry, and there was a deep anger and frustration in her brilliant green gaze.

“It’s all my fault,” she said darkly, and it was with that that she sniffled softly, though Addilyn suspected she would blame it on the still brisk air.  “Had I not been there, Papa would still be here.”

“Miki—” Addilyn tried, but Mikaila cut her off.

“Had I been born a boy, Papa would have taught me how to fight.  He wouldn’t have told me to run.  He would have told me where to aim.”

She said it with such rancor, such bitterness.  Addilyn had thought the girl would be wailing for her lost Papa, but instead she harbored a profound guilt for his demise.

“Miki,” she tried again, reaching out to place a hand upon Mikaila’s uninjured shoulder.  There was little she could give her in the way of comfort, and even this felt like a paltry offering.  “Your Papa didn’t like me much.  Especially when your uncle would bring me around you.  But even I know that he loved you so very much.  Fiercely enough that he fought to the death to keep you safe.”

Mikaila sniffled again, her eyes still trained on her hands.  The gloves were new.  A darker blue than her old pair.

“And,” Addilyn continued, sensing a rebuttal building upon the little wright’s lips, “I would never dare say that he’d have done anything differently had it been a lad at his side that night, rather than his beloved daughter.  He’d have told that boy to run to find help, to find the guard, to get home.  Just as he did you.”

It was then that a stray tear finally spilled over Mikaila’s lashes, and her hands began to shake.  Addilyn did not hesitate to pull the girl toward her in a tight embrace.

“It wasn’t your fault, Miki,” Addilyn said gently, but with an edge that brokered no argument.  “You scared off a horde of Crescians all on your own.  And you fought your way back to us.  You are strong and bright and so very brave.”

Addilyn pulled back slightly, a small half-smile upon her lips as she brushed the stray tears from Mikaila’s cheeks.  Mikaila met her gaze with a watery smile of her own.

“Never doubt that you did more than most lads older than yourself would have managed,” Addilyn continued.  “You sitting here right now is proof that you did more than enough.”

Mikaila sniffled again, nodding stiffly as she buried her face in Addilyn’s tunic, her voice muffled as she simply said, “Thank you, Addie.”

[insomniiyac]

Curiousity Killed the Spider

Family friend of Rio’s and widower, Miguel O’Hara, returns from deployment ready to start a new life in NYC.

Yet things take an interesting twist when he meets her son, Miles.

Pairing: Miles x Miguel

Warnings: nsfw (minors dni!), grooming, underage, size difference

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: Wrote this in the midst of a power outage on Juneteenth. Mad racist lmao. Enjoy!

“Miguel! Holá!” Rio grins, pulling the man in for a hug.

Miguel’s stoic, yet he accepts her embrace anyway. She was always so loving and welcoming.

“Buen día, mamí,” he leans in for a cheek kiss before moving to Jeff to give him a dap.

“What’s up, Miguel! Nice to finally meet you!”

Jeff moves to offer Miguel a seat at the table.

“Thank you,” Miguel curtly nods before moving to the table to sit.

“Miles! Come say hi to your tío!” Rio calls out to him through the door.

Miles groans.

“Sorry about that, Miles can be a lil rude at times, here, let me take your bag,” Jefferson sighs, holding his hand out for Miguel’s duffle bag.

“It’s okay. Teens, right?” He jests, obliging Jeff’s offer.

“Mmhmm,” he peers at him over the frames of his glasses before taking it to the closet right outside Miles’ door.

Jefferson was a big man, yet Miguel was even bigger standing at a large 6’9”. The table felt a wee bit too small for him, but he was appreciative of the company nonetheless.

Miguel had just returned from deployment after serving in the military for years. After losing his wife and child, he wanted to start anew in NYC. But how could he come here without seeing his old friend, Rio?

Rio returns to the dining room with Miles.

“Say hello, Miles,” she whispers before taking her place at the dinner table across from Miguel.

“Hey Tío,” he waves, moving forward to give the man a hug.

Miles instantly notices his large stature, his eyes widening flickering back and forth to him and his mother.

“Sorry, I know I’m big. I sure hope I’m not intimidating.”

“Nah, nah, you’re good. I’m just not used to it, that’s all,” he takes his place next to his mother. “The GMO must be crazy in the military.”

Miguel scoffs and Rio lightly slaps Miles on the back of the head.

“Miles!”

“Don’t pay him any mind- he thinks he’s a comedian. Takes after his Uncle Aaron,” Jefferson remarks, crossing the dining room and sitting beside his wife.

“Hey!”

“Aaron…?” Miguel looks to Rio confused.

“Oh, Jefferson’s brother. Passed away some time ago. Meant a lot to Miles. And to us, too. You would’ve loved him,” she gives Miles a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

“I see… my condolences,” he bows his head out of respect.

“Well, let me go get the plates and stuff!” Rio rises out of her seat and begins setting up the table. “The food should be done by now!”

“Do you need help, babe?” Jefferson asks.

She says nothing so he does what any respectful husband does and goes to help her, leaving Miles and Miguel alone at the table.

“So, Miles,” he starts, readjusting himself in the seat. “I heard you started your Sophomore year. How’s it going?”

“Pretty good. Made friends. And stuff.”

“Yeah? That’s good. Friends are good. Any girlfriends?”

“Pff, what? How did we get here?”

“Well, you seem like you’d be a heartbreaker, I don’t know,” he shrugs, attempting to look nonchalant.

“A heartbreaker? Haha,” Miles rolls his eyes with a smile. “Nah, my parents raised me better than that.”

“Oh? Well, I’d never expect less of Rio.”

“Yeah, she’s a great mom,” Miles beams at this. He was very clearly a Momma’s Boy and proud.

“Your dad too,” Jefferson chimes in, carrying a pot of rice and setting it on the table.

Rio comes just behind him with more food, planting a peck on Jefferson’s cheek. They made an adorable couple, honestly.

Miguel leans forward, soaking in all that delicious smell of food. Rio was always a great cook.

“Smell good, huh?” Jeff nudges him with a smile. Miguel returns it. Cool guy, Jeff.

But it was really Miles he was interested in. A cute, witty boy that really took the best attributes from both parents. He really wanted to get to know him more.

So he spent his time chatting it up with them, mostly getting to know Miles. He was a great artist; his uncle really helped him hone his craft and yet he had a knack for engineering.

He watched his eyes light up when speaking about his work to the way he got embarrassed when nudged to show off his art book.

He truly was a special boy.

After dinner, Rio pulls Miguel aside and takes his hands into hers.

“Thank you so much for coming here tonight. I really do appreciate you spending time with the family and Miles. Like I said, he lost his Uncle and even though nothing can replace that, Jeff and I really hope that you can become that figure to him,” she squeezes his hands with a small smile.

“Of course, cariño,” he replies with a smile. “Thank you for having me.”

“Of course! Let me go check in with Miles, he should have space in his room for you at least.”

She goes to knock on his door.

“Come in!”

She opens it and peeks in before further revealing both her and Miguel.

“Miles, Miguel’s gonna sleep in your room, okay?”

Miles and Miguel exchange glances before Miles sighs.

“Okay…”

“Thank you, chiquito,” she gives her son a small peck before turning to give Miguel a peck on the cheek, handing him a bundle of blankets. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You too, Mom. Té amo.”

“Té amo más,” she smiles, her eyes lovingly lingering over her son before closing the door behind her.

Miles walks over to his bed and sits on it, opening his mouth to break the silence.

“Tío, You ain’t wanna sleep on the couch?”

“Why do that when you have so much space here? Don’t be selfish,” he leans in before setting up the blankets on the floor. “Also, your parents are gone so you can drop the tío, thanks.

Miles leans back on his bed and adjusts himself, turning to his side to watch him work.

“But you are my tío, though!”

“I’m a family friend. Not your tío,” he raises a finger in correction.

“Okay, okay,” he relents with a sigh. “So, how did you get to know my mom anyway?”

“We went to school together,” he answers, fluffing up the pillows and such. “Parents took turns carpooling us to and from school.

“Oh… okay. That’s cool!”

The man finally finishes setting up his makeshift bed and lays down on his back with a heavy sigh. Miles continues to watch the man rest, wearing the dopiest smile on his face.

“Do you mind?”

“S-Sorry!” Miles rolls over, his teeth sinking into his lower lip.

Miguel grumbles something under his breath that Miles couldn’t quite catch before closing those red eyes.

When he felt the coast was clear, Miles quietly rolls back on his side, moving to get a closer look at the man.

His tight gray T-shirt left little to the imagination- he could see every ridge and muscle underneath. His shirt was slightly lifted to show off some of those abdomen muscles, his brown hairs making a little happy trail down his V-line and underneath those boxer briefs. He yearned to see what he looked liked underneath.

“Brat.”

Miles flinches, not realizing that he had gotten off the bed and was looming over Miguel’s lower half. Miguel had now risen, propped up on his elbows to glare at Miles.

“I am so sorry,” he apologizes with a hushed voice.

If Miguel left and told his parents right now, they’d kill him.

The man watches him, unmoving with nary a change in expression.

Should he move? Should he stay? What should he do now that this man has caught him like this? A remark he wouldn’t have expected gave him all the answers he needed.

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?”

Miles' breath hitches in his throat. He stays shut, hoping the darkness of the room would somehow mask his presence.

“That wasn’t a rhetorical question.”

“I uh… I think so?”

Miles couldn’t see his face, but he could tell from hearing the little snort that he was amused in the least. He hears a shuffle before he sees Miguel’s large figure sit up.

“You’re young. At that age, you wanna experiment. It’s only natural.”

“Y-Yeah,” Miles straightens up, shifting to sit cross-legged next to him.

“…Wanna touch it?”

Miles hadn’t even noticed the man’s hand gripping his own cock. He yelps in shock, but Miguel quickly covers his mouth.

“Don’t be scared, cariño. We have the same parts right?”

The teen nods in agreement and Miguel slowly moves his hand away from his mouth. It was then that it dawned on him, Miguel must’ve set this up! The looks, the dry jokes… he wasn’t joking when he said he was interested in getting to know Miles better.

He cradles his chin and shifts slightly, the moonlight finally catching his eyes.

Miguel’s eyes were half-lidded and filled to the brim with lust. His hand deliberately moves up and down his thick, veiny shaft- the dark, red head dribbling precum. It seemed like the more Miles watched, the more turned on he became.

Miles audibly gulps before moving forward, replacing Miguel’s hand with his own. His hands were smaller, his fingers more slender, barely able to fully wrap around the girth of his dick.

Miguel hisses at this, his dick throbbing underneath his touch.

“How’s it feel?”

“It’s…” Miles trails off, wiping his precum and using it as lubricant to stroke his cock. “So big. Like… pornstar big.”

The man chuckles at this. “Yeah? That’s a first.”

“Yeah. Um, are you sure this is okay? I don’t think we should be doing this…”

“Like I said, it’s just experimenting. I doubt you get many opportunities like this, huh?”

“Not really. I thought of asking my friend but I’m afraid he might think I’m-“

“Gay?” He finishes the thought for him.

“Y-Yeah… that,” he stammers with a hot face.

“Tsk, tsk! Pobrecito…” he sighs, taking pity on the boy. His hand moves from his chin, up to Miles’ hair, raking his fingers through his coils.

“It’s fine. I think I actually like this…” Miles’ eyelids flutter, his breathing becoming heavier.

Miguel hums at this, a rare small smile creeping up on his face.

“Can I put my mouth on it?”

“You may…”

And with this, Miles leans forward, his honey eyes lingering before opening his mouth and dragging his tongue from the hilt to the tip.

He feels Miguel’s entire body shudder at this and this builds his confidence. Miles decides to go all in, taking his dick into his mouth and attempting to force it down his throat.

Miguel’s hips rises involuntarily, him growling at the lewd noises his mouth was making.

“F-Fuck kid… don’t force it!” He grunts, tightening his hold on the back of Miles’ head.

His hips jut again, pushing his dick a wee bit too far, hitting his gag reflex.

Miles pulls back with a mouth full of spit, coughing and sputtering violently.

“Shhhhhh, callate!” He frantically whispers to the boy when he sees the soft yellow light from the hallway turn on from underneath the bedroom door.

“Miles? You okay in there?” He hears Jefferson ask with a knock.

…Fuck. Of course it would be the cop that woke up first.

Miles attempts to speak but out comes more violent coughing, so Miguel speaks up for him.

“He choked on his glass of water, that’s all. I got him!”

He bends Miles over his leg and pats his back, interweaving rubs.

“Alright! If anything, I’m right next door.”

“Thank you, Jefferson,” he responds, hearing Miles finally stilling.

The lights shut off and he hears the door close to his parents room.

Miguel lets out a sigh of relief, giving Miles two more firm pats on the back.

“You almost got us caught, kiddo.”

“Sorry, Mr. Miguel,” he groans, finally rising from his lap.

He curls his hand around Miles’ waist, pulling him close and propping him on his knee.

“Just call me Miguel.”

“Okay…”

“Let’s do something a little more… gentle.”

Miles nods, leaning in close. He was giving him those ‘fuck me’ eyes, real heavy.

This boy was surprisingly really forward with what he wanted.

Miguel cradles his chin, thumb lightly swiping over his soft, full lips.

“Lengua…”

He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, laying it flat out for Miguel to lean in and wrap his own around. He hums, being careful not to show too much enthusiasm over the kid.

Miles’ hands creep up his chest and find their place at the nape of his neck, fingers interlocking.

The man’s hand wraps his waist, gently pushing him onto his back and climbing atop of him; careful not to press too much weight onto him, but just enough for him to Miles’ clothed cock pressed against his own.

Miguel is the first to pull away, a string of saliva breaking between the two of them. With two hands planted on either side of his head, he leans in to whisper: “Can I put it in?”

Miles nods, pointing to a small lube bottle that was conveniently placed on his dresser, next to his action figures. Miguel snorts at this, rising to grab the bottle.

“You play with yourself?”

“…Sometimes,” he admits, unable to look him in the eye.

“Mmm, muy interesante…”

He saunters back to Miles, positioning himself between his legs.

Miles shimmies his briefs down and Miguel helps him, carelessly tossing it aside. From this angle, Miguel could get a good look at Miles’ lanky frame. His dick was circumcised, smaller and skinnier compared to his own. His dick was slightly darker than the rest of his body up to the head which was a nice, muted rosewood color. It was so cute, the way it was leaking precum.

His navy blue BVA shirt was hiked up enough to show off his abdomen. His muscles were coming in real nicely.

His full lips hung ajar, his eyes honeyed.

Miguel picks up his cock and lays it atop of Miles’ own cock, reveling in the difference of size between the two.

“Think you can handle it?”

He nods cutely at this and Miguel couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Okay…”

He pops open the top to the lube and drizzles some on his dick, using his hand to stroke it in.

He then puts some on his finger and coats Miles’ hole with it, slowly working his way into him.

Miles’ hisses and clenches involuntarily; Miguel pausing at this.

“Relax, chiquito…,” he murmurs, and he does, allowing Miguel to slowly fit his whole index finger in. He pulls out and taps it again, this time with both his index and middle finger.

Miles’ hips jolt at this and Miguel pauses, watching him closely to gauge his pain.

When Miles stills, he pushes in, feeling him squeeze around his fingers. He was so fucking tight- he couldn’t wait to feel it wrap around his cock soon.

He bites his lip and slowly withdraws them, finally nudging his dick against it.

“Are you ready for me?”

“I… I think so…”

Miguel grins at this before leaning forward and burying his face into the crook of his neck.

He deliberately pushes the head of his cock in while planting kisses on his neck. Miles whimpers and squirms underneath him, but Miguel steadily pushes on all the way to the hilt. He pauses, allowing Miles’ hole to get adjusted to his length.

Miles has a hard time maintaining his breathing, the sheer girth of it too much for his smaller frame. But Miguel was a man who knew what he was doing and he was gonna make sure it fit- even if it meant molding him.

“Slow breaths baby… In… and out…”

He slides out, leaving just the tip in.

Miles’ eyes lower, watching it go back in with anticipation.

“In…”

He pushes in and Miles’ body rises, taking in a swallow of air.

“Out…”

He slides out and he exhales, savoring each ridge and bump of his erection.

“In…”

His breath hitches in his throat as he feels him getting stuffed once again, all the heat pooling at his center. Was this what it felt like to be made love to? Because if so, he could do this all day, for hours.

“You’re taking me so well, cariño…” he whispers.

He whimpers at this, clutching onto Miguel tighter than before.

He peppers his face with kisses before he slowly speeds up to a more familiar pace, swallowing his moans to keep him quiet.

Miles pushes against his thrusts much to Miguel’s surprise.

Miguel thrusts a little too sharply and Miles yelps at this before sinking his teeth into the man to stifle himself. Miguel sharply sucks in air through his teeth and bucks his hips against him, wildly.

That bite turned him on way more than it should’ve.

“Fuck…” he growls, giving Miles bites of his own. Red marks bloom against his sweaty brown skin.

The boy marked easily- he sure hoped his parents wouldn’t notice.

Miles moans become more coarse and unrestrained as his walls flutter around him. He was gonna cum soon…

“You gonna cum for me? Be a good boy and cum all over this dick…” he whispers, nibbling on his ear.

Miles shuts his eyes tightly and digs his fingers into his shoulder blades as he cums, coating his and Miguel’s lower half in his spunk.

“Fucking… cochino… dirty boy,” he growls, his hips bucking uncontrollably against him. “Take it… take it all…” he reaches his peak and cums, filling his tight hole with his warm seed.

Miles sighs at this, the feeling of warmth washing over his lower half.

They stay in position, reveling in the moment before Miguel rolls off of Miles and onto his back. Miles stays there, feeling his cum dribble out of him and pool onto the blankets.

After a while, Miguel says: “How’d it feel?”

“It hurt… but it felt really good.”

“Is your curiosity satiated?”

Oh yeah… this was what this was about, wasn’t it?

“Y-Yeah.”

There goes that stutter again.

“We can do this again, as much as you like,” Miguel rolls over to his side and smiles at Miles, a genuine one. “Just say the word.”

“Okay,” Miles looks over and returns the smile, albeit a tired one. “Just one question, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Can I call you Miggy instead?”

Miguel throws his head back with a huge exhale.

“Fine… you can call me ‘Miggy’,” he relents and Miles squeezes him tight with a grin. “Are you gonna go back to your bed?

“Nah, I think I’m gonna sleep here for the night. Night, Miggy!”

The man groans, but he lets him have his way, wrapping an arm around him.

“Goodnight, mi amor,” he plants a small peck on his shoulder before pulling him close.

Falling for Rio’s son was an unexpected twist, but he was for it all the same.

————————

It’s 9am and Rio’s cooking breakfast while Jefferson’s up having his morning coffee.

“Hmm, Miles and Miguel haven't gotten up yet,” Jeff observes with the absence of the duo.

“Oh, watch the food! I’ll go check on them!” Rio cuts the heat low, dusts her hands off on her apron, and strides over to Miles’ bedroom door.

“Miles~! Miguelito~!” She calls to them in a sing-songy voice, yet neither responds. “Miles? Miguelito?”

Her and Jeff exchange glances before she turns the door knob.

On the ground, Miles is cuddled up on his side with Miguel, head rested on his large chest. Miguel’s hand rested protectively over the other’s shoulder, both still in a deep slumber.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She apologizes to them in a hushed voice. She scurries out to the dining room with Jeff and beckons for him to come to the room.

Jeff lumbers over and cracks a small smile at the duo.

“Damn, dude just came in here and is already stealing my son away from me,” he gripes, holding an arm out for her to wrap her own arms around.

“Well I think it’s nice that they’re getting along. I think Miles would benefit from having an uncle like him,” she lays her head on his shoulder.

They both turn to shut the door, returning back to the dining room to continue their morning.

Ah… if only they knew about the wet spot hidden underneath the two…

[doublestandardlove]

i don't think i've talked about this, but i friggin' love the prom like y'all i'm so aghh- yeahh freshman me related a little too hard to alyssa greene ;_;

anyways, here's my thing ig (headcanon??) eh here (it's a tad long, sorry :/)

alyssa's mom, mrs. greene's name is veronica. just learned that btw lol (how canon is that? idk)

my personal headcanon for veronica greene is that she was never married to alyssa's father.

they had been dating for three years, and veronica was hoping that he'd propose soon. they had engaged in premarital sex a few times, but not enough to raise suspicion when veronica started getting concerningly sick in the wee hours of the morning.

it wasn't until veronica's coworker suggested getting a pregnancy test that she even entertained the possibility. while they'd been dating for a considerable time, her family had been anxiously waiting for marriage, and so had she.

when she found out she was pregnant, veronica was overjoyed. she scheduled a doctor's appointment immediately, planning to tell alyssa's father as soon as he got home. maybe this was the push they needed to get married.

besides, she was only slightly ashamed for engaging in premarital sex, and marriage would make the sin go away.

but he was not elated. at all. he hadn't wanted a child, especially not so soon. veronica was disheartened by his reluctance, but he promised that they would talk about next steps in the morning.

when the sun rose, he was gone. veronica was absolutely devastated. she texted and called him a million times, begging him to come back. when he eventually picked up, he claimed that he wasn't ready to be a father, but he would send money every few months.

veronica went to live with her family, who were just over the moon to have another greene. her parents were slightly disappointed in her for not abstaining (virginity rocks!), but took her in nonetheless.

when alyssa greene was born, she was raised by a village. her grandparents, aunts, uncles, family friends, cousins, etc. the entire extended family rose out of the woodwork to help raise this baby. with such a strong family and a small town, alyssa was well supported.

veronica hoped that one day, alyssa's father would mature enough to realize that he's ready to be a father to alyssa. so, she tried her best to raise alyssa as the best, hoping her father would hear of his daughter's achievements and be proud.

maybe if alyssa was perfect, a good, polite girl and an academic achiever, he would come back. he would see the daughter that he made and want to come back to meet such an accomplished girl.

veronica held on to this hope for years, posting alyssa's achievements on facebook and twitter, hoping for some outreach. she prayed that the Lord would bring him back to her, and he'd want to marry her and see their daughter off to college.

but it never happened. veronica blamed herself for not having enough faith, blamed her parents for not steering her hard enough in the right direction, blamed alyssa for not trying hard enough.

nothing was ever enough for her.

alyssa knew that her father wasn't coming back. she'd heard the whispered gossip from her nosy cousins and the conversations behind closed doors. she grew resentful of the hope her mother harbored, knowing they were suffering in vain. she resented her father for leaving them. leaving alyssa with her perfectionist mother.

it was unfair that they both had to suffer because her father was a coward.

alyssa never told her mother about these feelings, repressing them like she repressed everything that wouldn't fit her mother's expectations. she learned to act, how to smile even though all she wanted to do was cry. alyssa learned how not to feel, so she couldn't feel the pit in her stomach or the scream building in her throat. she learned how to hide and deny, going through every motion like clockwork.

it wasn't until one summer at bible camp that she learned how to love.

[everygame]

Battle City (NES)

Developed/Published by: Namco Released: 9/9/1985 Completed: 20/11/2022 Completion: Beat all 35 unique levels. Version Played: Switch Online Trophies / Achievements: n/a

[Apologies for interrupting, but before we get to the article I’d like to mention that you can pre-order a copy of exp. 2600, my brand new zine, right now and get more of–and help support–writing like what you’re about to read.]

There are iconic NES games–Super Mario Bros. and that. And then there are iconic NES pirate cart games. Battle City is the latter. 

I have a funny history with NES piracy, actually. As most people know, the NES wasn’t really a thing in the UK for most people (I certainly didn’t know anyone with one as a child) and by the time I reached the age where my family were spending more time in Malaysia, I was already an avowed PC gamer. So even though I have so many memories of department stores with rows of pirate carts and knock off Famicoms… I wasn’t interested at all, and instead filled my boots with copied floppies (seeking out the stalls with the best reproductions of manuals and that sort of thing.)

In some respects, I regret this–so much of the video game culture of South East Asia in the 90s seems to be lost forever (see tweets) and now all I really have is snatches of memories–usually a gaggle of kids crowded round a pirate cart version of Street Fighter II in a Jaya Jusco–but I also know that games like Battle City squandered the chance to get me lugging a Malaysian famiclone home with a couple of 150-in-1 carts.

Let’s remember here I’m not yet a teenager and I’ve just discovered the glory of things like Wolfenstein 3D’s vibrant ultraviolence and Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis’ cinematic narrative. And while in Malaysia I’m putting the exchange-rate equivalent of pennies into big fancy sit down/ride cabinets of the likes of Suzuka 8 Hours or Rad Mobile. So when an uncle digs out a faimclone and a pirate cart and you boot it up to find you can play 30 versions of the dustiest-ass tank game for babies you’d ever seen…

(And what was the deal with every single pirate cart massively over-inflating the number of games anyway? Was anyone fooled when they selected “Fancy Excitebike” in the list and just got Excitebike again??? I have one of those snatches of memory of standing in a wee store with my dad, him saying “you can get another game for the house!” and me, unable to tell which cart offered any value at all–after all, 80 of the games would probably be the same ones on the cart we already had–going home empty handed! Empty handed! When do kids ever do that???)

Anyway. When I think of pirate carts, I think of Battle City. Maybe it isn’t iconic to everyone, maybe it’s only iconic to me because it was on the cart I had for one summer at least… but it’s such a pirate cart game that it almost feels weird to play it in an “official” way.

And I suppose, this many years later, it’s kind of weird that I put a bunch of time into it?

I’ll say this. It’s not surprising that at the time I gave it short shrift. It’s got horrible sound (a constant buzzing of engines) and feels extremely simplistic and limiting as you awkwardly move your tank around sans diagonals. It was, after all, based on a game from 1980 with a bit of a graphical touch-up–contemporary with the timeless Pac-Man, sure, but this ain’t Pac-Man. I’ll admit the tank movement feels better than I remember it (smooth, and perfect speed) but the game sort of doesn’t really feel like anything.

Look at it this way. The game has you as a tank trying to defend one poorly walled-in base, always at the bottom center of the screen, from being shot by enemy tanks. There’s some terrain, but it’s mostly brick walls that can be shot through. Enemies spawn from the same three spawn points at the top of the level, and there’s some variation between them (some fast tanks, some tanks that take a bunch of hits). None of the enemies have any real AI–they don’t seek you, or really seek the base, either. Sometimes there are power-ups; you can improve your gun to destroy steel walls; there’s an occasional smart bomb or time-stop which are must-grabs. Shoot 20 tanks to get to the next level.

It’s, you know… fine. It’s an alright game design. But when you actually sit down and play it, the game very quickly devolves into getting your tank as far up the screen as you can manage where you are able to shoot clearly to both the left and right boundaries without being shot from a tank spawning above, and then just… firing constantly left or right based on which side tanks are traveling down from most urgently.

There are a few levels where this is not simple to do (a total bastard of a level mostly with tree coverage, making tanks near-impossible to see) and you can’t consider this tactic a total slam dunk because if a tank does slip past, they’ll often destroy your base before you can get to them, leading to an instant game over (no matter how many lives you have!) which can be infuriating. But it’s not like there’s better tactics; on a level by level basis you’ll do your best to shoot your enemies straight paths to your base, so you kind of just have to accept the variance.

In the cold light of 2022, Battle City is… a half-hour or so of near-mindless blasting that you wish had any sort of twist, or spark, or even particularly interesting level design, to make it a charming bit of classic arcade action worth score attacking.

In the early 90s it’s a dusty-ass tank game for babies that is indirectly responsible for the total lack of preservation of south-east Asian game culture history. Probably.

Will I ever play it again? Nope but I’ve got 1991’s Tank Force waiting to be played which is a baffling (and obscure) sequel that’s maybe brilliant. I mean who knows.

Final Thought: One of the most annoying things about Battle City of course is when you’re shot from the side by a tank that’s turned on a dime before you could notice, and I have to admit I’d be interested to play this exact game but with real, slow-ass tank turning. Would it be better? Would it actually be even more annoying? I’m kind of imagining these situations where you watch your tank turn, watching another tank turn, thinking “oh god, I hope I get this shot off” like you’re actually in the tank, feeling it slowly spin around… [“That’s why tanks have turrets though. So they can shoot in different directions more quickly”--Ed.] Shut up!

Support Every Game I’ve Finished on ko-fi, either via a one-off donation (pay what you like) or by joining as a supporter at just $1 a month. Supporters receive an automatic 35% discount off physical zines, like exp. 2600, which you can order now.

[colleenmurphy]

For the better part of her life she had seen the world through a very different lens. Much of her world consisted of traveling to far flung places all over the globe being carried by her mother or taken gently by the hand and led on some very grand adventure. Her mother wasn't just flashing photo bulbs and long dark hair with mysterious eyes. The voice that she was used to singing her to sleep was vastly different than the one that used to entertain concert goers. They didn't see the side of her that made the very best chocolate chip pancakes at midnight, or the side that made all the hobgoblins in her closet go away with just a stern 'Go to bed, wee beasties!'. Not everyone got to see their mother, godmother and grandmother perform an impromptu concert in the back garden after a few glasses of wine.

"Do you know just how much I love you?"

Her mother had asked her late one night as she tucked Libby deep under the covers of an impossibly soft bed deep in the heart of Rome. All Libby cared was that Mom was there and the tapestry shawl that smelled just like her was wrapped around Babbity Rabbit.

"No...how much?"

"Thiiiiss Muucchh."

Was all Colleen could say before she outstretched her arms much like a bat and enveloped Libby in the warmest of bear hugs. The jangle of her many bracelets and necklaces always made Libby smile.

"Love you, Mama. Even beyond infinity."

"Love you too, Libby baby. Sleep tight."

With a kiss and in a cloud of warm amber Libby fell into a drowsy dose. The nightlight aunt Helene and uncle Joey had sent all the way from Sweden flickered on merrily enveloping the five year old in a familiar homey glow. Unbeknownst to her the world she had once known was rapidly changing. The Colleen Sheehan being witnessed this evening was an unfamiliar one as the 'Mom' version was as familiar to little Libby as the back of her own hand.

"I just got off the phone with your mom...Colly he's in good spirits. He knows you and Lib are headed home."

Schooled features so fine they could almost be cut from marble swirled toward him almost pinning Jack to the spot.

"You're coming with us, right?"

Jack Donnelly was never one to lie, bend the truth, yes but never outright lie. Especially to his wife and mother of his only child.

"Y-yes. I just need to finish packing some things back at the house and setting up someone to watch Angus and Bon."

The mention of the Donnelly family's Weimaraner duo and Libby's dearest companions besides the ancient orange tabby named Cornelius at Libby's insistence as to "That's what he told me his name is, Mummy."

"She doesn't know he's sick...sick. I mean she knows Grandpa Jim's not feeling well and that there are some changes at his and Granny's house but that doesn't mean she has to be afraid. Maybe...maybe this is a mistake. It's too much."

The flutter of her hands and the tremble in her bottom lip were Col's tell. She was crumbling. Her world was falling apart and she had kept it together for so long and had kept spirits high all the way around that now the fatigue was setting in. Jack wasn't going to be the one to tell his wife of four years that her father's mental state was fading in and out like a candle flame. Mostly due to the use of morphine to keep the pain at bay and the masses pressing at odd angles. He didn't need to be the one to remind her when it hit her daily. When she wasn't trying to do small shows whenever her manager booked her she was home at the rambling Murphy compound nicknamed 'Shangri-La.' splitting time between her parents place and their own rambling place in the Canyon known as The Lodge.

"Colly he keeps saying he wants to go home."

Colleen bit her lip for a moment and sighed as she grabbed the last of her things and shoved it into the oversized duffel bag.

"I take it you know what that means?"

"Yes...he wants to go back to Gloucester. He was born in a tiny town just outside it called Sloughbridge. He and my mom still have the family house out there. My Great Grandfather built it. That's where he wants to be....I mean he was born there. So it makes sense."

"I've got to call Helene and Joey and...my mom...."

Passing her a hand rolled cigarette and a glass of red wine Jack met her eyes.

"You need to take a moment with these two things I'm offering you and take in the night sky on the balcony. Just for a minute."

[xanderthechef]

“I just came from 196” ask game

Sure, I’ll play along. Might be fun; but I don’t know anyone… and tagging random people might be a party foul… idk? So i’ll only reblog and see what happens!

Name? Xander

Pronouns and gender? he/him, cis boy

Sexuality? I don’t know how to classify it! I like boys… I like girls sometimes, too… I like those who lie betwixt… but sex in general is a pretty low priority for me. I’m only ever in love with my friends, too.

Country? USA

Top 5 fandoms? That’s a toughie… (in no particular order) I’m really into the Omori and Ace Attorney fandoms right now. While I don’t consider myself a furry, i enjoy the fandom every once in a while. Uh… I suppose 196 itself counts, right? I can’t think of any others that I particularly associate with. I’m not very experienced with fandom culture.

What is your most forbidden snack? The big stupid red concrete balls at Target. I know they’ve got a delicious ooey gooey center

Would you pet a bug? Yes, absolutely! As long as I don’t hurt it, and it doesn’t mind

Share a weird fact/story about yourself with the class. One time in the seventh grade, I was recounting a Jim Gaffigan bit about hot pockets to these two girls i sat next to during social studies class. They were laughing pretty hard, but probably more at le than the bit. I thought he was the peak of comedy at the time. The teacher stopped the class and everyone focused on me, which i took a second to notice before i shut up. The teacher asked me what on earth I was talking about that was so much more important than doing my work, to which my response was to stand up in my desk and say “have you ever had a hot pocket hot pocket? Its a hot pocket filled with a hot pocket. Tastes just like a hot pocket! 🎶Hoooot Pooocket!🎶” She was not amused.

What does the color blue taste like? Blue Moon ice cream

What is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen? That’s a pretty hard to quantify question for me…. What I can tell you is that I cut a red cabbage in half the other week and the inside was definitely up there on my list!

What is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done? I graduated high school and culinary school when I was 16. Instead of… yknow, starting my career… going to more college… I instead decided to stay at home for three years and help my mom around the house as a live in full time nanny. I got paid room and board…. And a small stipend. While I gained childcare experience, I otherwise wasted my time. I could have gotten a real job and saved for college. I’m kicking myself for that decision every day when i see the new semester rolls around asking me for a couple grand. Shoulda bailed while I could, but now I feel stuck here.

Stupidest thing you’ve seen/heard someone else do/say? My qanon uncle once sent me an email telling me that he wanted to have a relationship with me, but my libtard family was poisoning my mind; and that he would love to show me the truth before its too late. I didn’t respond.

Hyperfixation song? Currently? Wellerman by Nathan Evans. Before this, it was a FNF song called “Zoo Wee Mama” and before that it was Feelings are Fatal by mxmtoon

Is there any meaning behind your pfp and/or username? The pfp was a random image off my camera roll. “xanderthechef” has been my username for everything for over a decade. I got my culinary trade degree in 2018 and have done… basically nothing professional with it. BUT! My cheesecake is locally famous!

Dream career as a child? My earliest memory of a dream job was to be a rock star… later, i wanted to go into geology, then nutritional anthropology.

Dream career as an adult? I wanna make art in any way i can, be that culinary, digital, drawing, or even through music, video or video games. I love art but i also fucking hate it and why can I never draw right ever

Thoughts on cilantro? A necessary evil. Don’t go overboard! I once had a ceviche with so much cilantro in it the fish was dyed green. Yuck! But if there aint any at all… I’m gonna miss it.

Have you ever been banned from a location and if so, why? Nope, none. I’m a good boy 👍

What is your cursed food combination? Oh, my secret shame… I like to dip the m&ms into the nacho cheese at the movie theater.

Trans rights? Uh… duh and/or hello!

Hooray. I done it. Tagging NO ONE😠😠

“I just came from r/196” ask game

Saw another post. I think I should invite y'all to one of our longstanding traditions. Answer the questions then tag 10 (or more) people. I'll go first.

Name? Frankie

Pronouns and gender? he/they/it, transmasc

Sexuality? Lesbian

Country? USA

Top 5 fandoms? Bungou Stray Dogs, Cosmere, All for the Game, Fundiesnark (not a series but I'm too deep in it to not consider it a fandom), .....the tornado fandom? (they're my special interest)

What is your Most forbidden snack? The preserved bones at the Atlanta Bodies Exhibition. They looked so crunchy...

Would you pet a bug? If it's big enough, it is pettable.

Share a weird fact/story about yourself with the class. I like to drive around rural areas and photograph old, sometimes abandoned locations in the dead of night. I have been literally chased out of towns by foot and by car on two separate occasions. The second time this happened, "See You Again" by Miley Cyrus came up on shuffle and that's the soundtrack my friend and I tore out of town to. Also every "guy" I've dated except for my most recent ex (who has big egg energy) is a lesbian now.

What does the color blue taste like? Creme brulee

What is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen? The appalachian mountains of Tennessee in the middle of summer. There's kudzu everywhere. On the backroads, there were several old, dilapidated Baptist churches barely hanging to the side of the mountain. I wonder how many of them were still in use.

What is the stupidest thing you've ever done? Short version: my friend's house almost got broken into by this dude who'd been stalking us for months while we were home alone. Instead of calling the cops, we decided to confront him with a bow and arrow (me), a hatchet, and a baseball bat (him). The plan was that if it went badly, we would simply throw his corpse into one of the many lakes in the neighborhood and let the alligators eat his remains (this was Florida). Why? Because we were afraid of having our home-alone privileges revoked. Luckily for us all, the guy fucked off and we never saw him again.

Stupidest thing you've seen/heard someone else do/say? My ex thought that Jackalopes were real. Also, a nurse I was doing rotations with apparently thought that "Witness Protection" was for Jehovah's Witnesses.

Hyperfixation song? Young Enough + Bleach by Charly Bliss

Is there any meaning behind your profile picture and/or username? Profile pic; I'm transmasc and I'm currently obsessed with TriStamp. Username; It was my fake internet name when I was like 13. I won't change it because I want my mutuals to recognize me, and because I do have a viral post associated with this name.

Dream career as a child? Doctor (funnily enough I'm now in nursing school)

Dream career as an adult? Professional Jester. Not a comedian. I just want to be some weird little guy who dresses silly and you can hire me to roast your boss at work parties.

Thoughts on cilantro? Delicious

Have you ever been banned from a location and if so, why? I honestly can't remember? Probably... but in recent memory I've mainly banned people from places.

What is your cursed food combination? Pineapple on a hotdog with grilled onions. It Slaps.

Trans rights? TRANS RIGHTS

Tagging: @rocket-mankoi @mostlymarco @atleast8courics @jazzlike39 @gemsweater72 @limbobilbo @ameliaaltare @redcrane112 @theoneofwhomisblue @twinkenjoyer @theultimatecarp and anyone else who wants to jump on

[kiyelle]

*.⋆ʚ HOW HE TELLS YOU HE LOVES YOU…KINDA!

with: bokuto, kuroo, oikawa, suna, tsukishima, atsumu, kenma

isabelle says: some are cute & some are dumb ahh! and thank you sm for the love on the notes work ily all

ʚ BOKUTO

*.⋆ ‘y/n… YOU MAKE MY HEART GO WEE WOO’

*.⋆ he’s flustered ok! he was psyching himself up to say something, that was just the first thing to pop into his head :(

*.⋆ gosh i’m so soft for bo PLS

*.⋆ also kuroo probably saw the whole thing and won’t let it go for literal months ‘wEe WoO pfft’

ʚ KUROO

*.⋆ ‘n 3^07 !’

*.⋆ he was helping you study math and you looked so cute concentrating so he decided he was just going to go for it

*.⋆ so when he passed you the slip of paper asking for help on this ‘difficult equation’ you were like •.• sir this was NOT taught in class, you were so confused

*.⋆ ‘turn it upside down and then read it idiot’

ʚ OIKAWA

*.⋆ ‘oh are you the girl uncle tōru is in love with?’

*.⋆ this boy constantly rants to takeru about everything, from how ‘tobio-chan and that chibi-chan have nothing on me and iwa!’ to ‘y/n looked so cute today’

*.⋆ something i love about oikawa is his undeniable passion so being the subject of that fire, sparkles in his eyes and all, makes my heart flutter idc

*.⋆ his poor nephew just had enough though and exposed him so he could go back to playing with his own friends instead of listening to his eighteen year old uncle’s love life

ʚ SUNA

*.⋆ ‘this child on tiktok is trying to tell me we aren’t compatible because of our star signs, the stars are obviously blind to perfection’

*.⋆ even though he mostly acts unbothered or indifferent towards things i feel like the tiniest details make him so happy

*.⋆ just the little fact that the stars agree you’re perfect together would make his heart skip beats

*.⋆ also side note! just imagine rin hanging out with the twins and one asks why he’s smiling at his phone and he says ‘nothing’ but he’s still smiling and it’s all because of you ugh <33



ʚ TSUKISHIMA

*.⋆ ok just LISTEN

*.⋆ i know this boy is always portrayed as a massive kuudere but just picture being up really late with him on call and he’s superrr sleepy and as you’re both falling asleep he says to you:

*.⋆ ‘we’re like the sun and moon, i’m just waiting for our eclipse’

*.⋆ sTOP i have butterflies

ʚ ATSUMU

*.⋆ just printed out a whole stack of heart reaction memes and gave them to you :,)

*.⋆ like didn’t even do anything special, just smacked forty pages of memes onto your desk one morning with the biggest smile ever

*.⋆ he would of sent them by text but he wanted a live reaction to each one

*.⋆ suna is !!always!! making memes of him and his brother so he begged him to make one for you, it didn’t come cheap but the last picture of the stack is indeed him surrounded by hearts

ʚ KENMA

*.⋆ ok let’s set the scene: you’re at his house and it’s almost three in the morning, both of you laying in front of the tv with your shoulders brushing when he suddenly stops playing. but he doesn’t turn to you when he whispers

*.⋆ ‘you know how i told you a while ago that i used video games to escape reality sometimes?’

*.⋆ ‘yeah, ken?’

*.⋆ ‘i don’t think i want to escape it anymore if it means i’ll be with you’

[bokettochild]

Hi just letting you know that I'm Obsessed with what you wrote about Legend's uncle. Because, like, my headcanon was that his uncle got older and Legend encouraged him to move in with his grandparents--don't worry I'm older now I can manage the orchard myself--and the distance that formed between them post alttp was enough to make his uncle just a bit too willing to leave Legend behind.

But, like...now I'm imagining Alphon raising this kid, this forgotten prince who has a divine destiny ahead of him. And he tries not to get attached, and slowly starts to encourage Link towards things like farming as his duty to look after him turns into found family. For a short time, Alphon starts to convince himself that maybe they can just live on that isolated farm together without worrying about gods or monsters.

Of course destiny comes knocking. Alphon goes to the castle alone, telling Link to stay behind (to stay safe, stay out of it) as a sort of last ditch effort to keep fate from claiming the boy who has become like a son to him.

When Link shows up anyway, Alphon reasons that it was foolish to see family in someone as far removed from him as a child of the gods. He gives the Hero of Legend instructions on how to proceed, and lets go.

Link loses his uncle in the sewers of Hyrule Castle.

Yes!

Whether Aflon was actually his biological uncle or not (I say yes, but I don't care particularily) he raised this kid with the knowledge that, yeah, he's more then the average small child.

When the rest of the knights are all killed off, he realizes, quite abruptly, that "oh, the prophecy about the hero is referring to him."

I think he loved Legend, truly. You can't be the sole caretaker for a wee babe and not fall in love with them. You can't watch them mimic you and talk like you and do their chores in a mirror of how you do and walk in your literal footsteps; little legs struggling to stretch far enough between holes in the snow- and not fall in love with that child.

Aflon loved Legend with everything in him.

But the kid that he found when he was brought back to life had his own way of doing things, he was wary, he was silent, scared of so many things and rather than following in too-big steps, he makes his own as he darts from brush to bush, from cover to cover like a soldier under fire. He doesn't act like a child anymore, he's not that sweet, gap-toothed kid that Aflon held in his arms just the other day (as far as he is concerned). Yes, he has the same face, but that kid is not his sweet, innocent, gentle, carefree nephew.

But it's still a kid.

So he takes care of him until he can make arrangements for someone else to, because it's still a child, even if it's not his child. He arranges for his parents, Link's grandparents, to take over, telling this kid with Link's face that they're going to the farm for the summer like they always do- except this summer he never comes back to bring him home again.

This summer, once the boy is not his Link is on the farm, he goes back to the house, locks it up, and leaves.

He can't live there without Link, and he can't go back for the kid that replaced his own.

So he wanders through Hyrule, finds a place after some time, settles down, and starts a family of his own. He always wanted kids after all, and now he has a wife and a son.

Except the little one they have is either the exact opposite of his Link, or all too similar to him, and either way that hurts. He's haunted by that little boy he promised the queen he would care for, but he's got no way to find him now.

He might go back once, but Legend's off adventuring, hardly ever home- doesn't really have a home, because the house isn't the same without his uncle and the farm was never truly home either. Maybe he asks the locals, hiding his face so they won't know him, won't tell Link he was there, (maybe they can't recognize anymore him anyway) and all they can tell him is what a good hero that kid became, but he's gone today, as he always is, wandering and restless, wary and unwilling to linger.

So he goes back home.

And I like to imagine he's even more haunted, because Link never wanted to wield a weapon. His Link wanted to be an apple farmer. His Link didn't like to fight. His Link would always cheer that his Uncle would kill all the scary monsters. His Link didn't have blood on his hands.

But the hero is the opposite, and deep down he knows his Link is the Hero.

Which means he failed his mission to protect him. He failed Link. He failed the queen.

And now he has to live with that. All while watching another little boy grow up in front of him. A little boy who idolizes the hero that the village people talk about sometimes. All while wondering if his son will turn out the same way.

[trashexplorer]

BLCD Review: Cosmetic Playlover

Title: Cosmetic Playlover (コスメティック・プレイラバー)

Author/Artist: Narashima Sachi

Release Date: 2022/11/26

Cast:

Itou Kento x Kobayashi Chiaki

Takatsuka Tomohito

Oono Tomohiro

Synopsis: Trash

“No or stop, you unexpectedly say cute things.”

The beautiful assistant, Natsume, is forced to do pair sales with his junior Sahashi. Sahashi, who doesn’t take Natsume or his work seriously, overtook him in sales and annoys Natsume as he’s trying to act as a good superior… Once his act gets discovered, he’s threatened into becoming his sex friend?! Plus, he carelessly flipped Sahashi’s switch on!

“Is it all right if I get serious?”

This is a story set behind the cosmetic shop counter, with feelings of love appearing as Natsume finds his heart beating fast, although it irritates him.

Review Proper

When I was a wee young lass of years six, my grandmother called us out from our seaside exile to come live with her in the main house after my father’s death. I was a child of the sea, so adjusting to life in the city was difficult. The main house was just rows upon rows of hallways and rooms, and it was always deathly cold—concrete. Even at that tender age, I knew that the house was shrouded in mystery, but it probably was just a reflection of our equally mysterious family. Every morning on my way to school, I would pass a small, oddly framed family picture along the hallway which showed my grandparents sitting on a red velvet couch while my father, uncle, and my aunt stood behind them. By the time I became a freshman in highschool, everyone in that picture had already passed...except for my aunt who had her face scratched out of it. She had been missing even before anyone from our generation was born, so no one knew where she was or how she’s doing. She was our family’s biggest mystery and, quite possibly, the answer to every other mystery. She was the only one who knows our family’s history, after all. More years pass, and we’ve lost the house along the way, completely eradicating any chance our questions had of ever being answered. Now, we have all learned as a family to leave our curiosities to rest and focus on the present.

But who would’ve thought that at age twenty-five, another big mystery would find itself in my hands? 

The mystery of how Cosmetic Playlover ever got green-lit for a BLCD adaptation and multiple manga sequels, that is.

I mean, I knew it was gonna be bad from the Sakura Riko-looking art alone, but I didn’t know that it was gonna be that bad. I’m not even comfortable branding it as something that came out in the 2000′s ‘cause that would be an insult to some of them. Oh, I know. This is FUCKING SHOUJO SMUT PLOT BUT WITH TWO DICKS.

Specifically:

THIS FUCKING THING. NO WONDER I WAS SO PISSED OFF.

“Omg, Chesk. You’re overreacting.” No, I am not. Cause they have sex like 15 pages into the first chapter and right after Sahashi unzips Natsume-san’s pants, he gives it a squish squelch with a finger then puts his dick in it??? HOW WAS HIS ASSHOLE ALREADY WET??? EITHER HE HAD A PUSSY OR HE HAD DIARRHEA. See, I could forgive things being rushed in the manga ‘cause pages, ya know? But I expected the BLCD to give them more time, BUT NOOOOOO. THEY WANTED TO MOMOSE AN THE SHIT.

Anyway, I won’t talk too much about the plot here. It’s really just your run-of-the-mill shoujo smut with a rapist, black-mailing, edgelord top and a simp for a bottom. 👍 Their climax wasn’t even worth noting. Natsume-san was getting wrongly accused by stealing this one guy’s customers, so he keeps harassing him and Sahashi finds Natsume-san’s notebook with all his customers’ info on them and says the notebook was persuasive evidence that he wasn’t stealing the customers. EXCUSE ME??? WHERE ARE YOU TAKING THIS CASE??? AUDIT???

Moving on to the technicalities of things, I actually listened to this mainly because this would be Chiaki’s debut (Sugar Drug’s was actually released the same day, but I’m not too keen on Takuma being on top). Oddly enough, I think I have almost all of the CDs he’s been cast as a supporting role, so I was looking forward to him leading this time. How did he do, you ask?

Wow.

That was

Bad.

Ngl, this was even worse than Horie Shun’s debut. I’m not sure what happened here ‘cause he acts pretty decently in his other CDs, but he even struggled with stuff outside the bedroom. He never got his surprises right, for one thing. Both the timing and the sounds he made were so unnatural. But the most unnatural bit of it all were his moans in bed. He goes to deep but also uses vowels too big at every given chancee, it just—HE REALLY JUST “AHHAHUHUH” THE WHOLE TIME IT WAS SO FUNNY I KEPT LAUGHING THROUGHOUT THE BEDDINGS I’M SO SORRY. I can see that he’s trying to emulate the Tachi of maybe 2013, but he really doesn’t know how to do it properly. I would’ve preferred it if he just went the quieter route, if that’s how it was just gonna end up as. 😬 His moaning drowned Itou Kento out a bit that sometimes I just forgot that he was there lmao. Hopefully, he did better in Sugar Drug ‘cause Taku’s not that uhh great as a top, so if they both underperformed, that CD’s doomed lmaooo

Itou Kento did well here even though I kinda didn’t like how he started. This is a higher tone than what he usually uses, and I could just visualize what kind of shape his mouth was making that it just bothered me. Thankfully, grew on me after a while. His topping style here was a little reminiscent of Nakajiki’s usual, and I found that endearing. My man learned topping from his top. *wipes tear

The rest of the supporting cast did great too. I found it so funny that Takatomo was acting as a man much older than the two leads when he’s literally the same age as their actors lmao. Our other Tomo’s also showing potential. I’ve seen his name pop up quite a lot recently, and it’s just a matter of time before he gets a lead role. Hope he learns from this.

 Yea, so this was bad overall. If you’re a fan of this series, why? I wouldn’t recommend it because of the acting. It unfortunately sticks out like a sore thumb. I’m not sure if Mari—MARINE?! NO FUCKING WONDER! Yea, this’ll probably have sequels since the manga has 7 volumes and is still ongoing, and Marine loves that weird shit, so... Do I have any other recommendations? I don’t think I’ve ever listened to another BLCD that revolved around cosmetics. That was actually a good concept, ngl. But did this expound on the cosmetics? No lmao. 

[thecountoflondonfansite]

Henry gave an annoyed glare at his counterpart's remarks. "You do know that not everything in my life is pathetic and dull Hyde." The being known as Hyde gave a hum and somewhat of a soft smile. "Tis true. Our wee pup Amber is the only bright and exciting part of your life. Though give her time and under my influence, she would be a true force of nature for these gullible buffoons." Hyde spoke in a proud tone. This time Henry did give his counterpart an angry glare. "You will not be corrupting Amber with your terrible influence Hyde!" Henry nearly shouted. Hyde only responded with a wide, cat like grin at Henry, further irritating the teacher. "We'll see doctor...we'll see." "Hey dad we're back!" Becky called out to her father as she entered her home. "Hey kiddo. I'll be out in just a minute." A scratchy voice called from the kitchen. Becky gave a quick okay in response before heading to the living room. Her pet monkey Bob grabbed the remote and plopped down on the couch. He turned to television on and changed the channels until he got to the celebrity network. Meanwhile, Becky had grabbed a Princess Triana book and began to read it while she waited for her dad. Soon Dr. Two Brains exited the kitchen though he was still wearing an apron over his regular clothes. "So how was school today?" Two Brains asked his daughter. "It was good dad. We have a new teacher today that replaced Miss Davis since she had to leave for a family emergency. We mainly did introductions today to get to know each other." Becky explained. Two Brains' eyes widened in surprise. "You got a new teacher?" He asked in confusion. Becky nodded. "Yeah I just met him today. Didn't the school send out any emails about it?" Two Brains let out a tired sigh. "It kind of slipped my mind today Becky. I had a lot to do yesterday." Two Brains responded. Becky gave her dad a sympathetic smile. She knew her dad was a bit scatterbrained even before the accident. The cheese obsession and focus on raising her hadn't helped him that much. Usually her, Bob, the henchmen, her aunt and uncle, and a few other people had to help keep her dad on track with stuff. "Its alright dad." Becky replied. Two Brains gave his daughter a small, grateful smile before moving on from his slip up. "So your knew teacher, who are they and what are they like?" The mad scientist asked. "Oh. His name is Dr. Henry Jekyll. He said he moved here from London with his daughter who is five years old. He is actually a really nice and patient teacher. He also knows a lot of words and I didn't even have to define anything for him. But get this, the most shocking thing was that Tobey was on his best behavior today. Dr. Jekyll looked calm and attentive when Tobey was bragging about himself. What surprised a lot of us was when Dr. Jekyll told him his turn was over, Tobey didn't even throw a tantrum or anything. He peacefully sat down." Becky exclaimed. Dr. Two Brains almost had a slack jawed expression from what Becky told him. "Wow Tobey behaved for someone that wasn't his mother! That guy sounds like a really good teacher." The mad scientist exclaimed in an astonished tone. Becky nodded in agreement. Two Brains wandered if there was anything in his emails about a parent-teacher conference with Becky's new teacher. He wanted to meet the guy that got "The Boy Genius" to behave. In another part of town, Dr. Henry Jekyll soon arrived at an apartment complex. He headed towards the elevator which took him to the second floor after he pressed a button. Henry headed to a particular door marked 'Room 205' and used his keys to open the door. Inside a little girl with orange brown hair and ruby eyes was drawing on a table with a young woman that had curly black hair, dark skin, and green eyes. Henry gave a soft smile at the scene before he announced his presence. "Hello I'm back." The two girls turned their heads. "Daddy!" The young child called out. She dropped her crayons and raced towards her father. @unhingedexperimenter

(You can tag me on my tgs side blog. I also apologize but I know a few Scottish words. So to anyone reading this I apologize for the inaccuracy.) Becky Boxleitner noticed a change in the atmosphere as she and her pet monkey Bob walked into the sixth grade classroom. All of the students were excitedly chatting with one another. Becky and Bob exchanged confused looks at the scene. 'What is going on?' They both thought. Becky walked to where her friends Violet Heaslip, Rose Franklin, and Todd Scoops Ming were sitting, also joining in the excited yet low volume chattering. "Hey guys what's going on?" Becky asked her friends. They each turned their heads to greet their friend. "Hey Becky guess what, we're getting a new teacher for our class!" Scoops exclaimed. Becky looked surprised at the announcement. Bob also mimicked her facial expression. "Wait really? What happened to Miss Davis?" Becky asked, wondering what happened to their old teacher. It was just a week only into the new school year so a sudden teacher exchange was a complete shock to Becky especially since there were no announcements about it beforehand. "Miss Davis had to move back home because of a family emergency." Rose Franklin answered. "The principal had to scramble to find a new teacher to fill in for our class. It was all last minute stuff." Becky nodded in understanding of her friends' answers. It was a nice perk to be friends who were upcoming reporters. Soon the final bell rang which indicated for every student to take their seats. Becky took her place beside her best friend Violet and Bob plopped down next to her. Soon a man who looked to be in his mid 30s walked in and towards the desk. He had curly brown air, an arched nose, and reddish brown eyes. He wore a tan button-down shirt with a red vest as well as brown slacks and dark suede shoes. The man gave a pleasant and warm smile to all the students there. "Hello my name is Dr. Henry Jekyll and I will be your teacher for the school year." Becky and the other kids ears perked up as they took note of the man's accent. Even Tobey became slightly interested in his new teacher. None of them were sure where their new teacher was from. Dr. Jekyll gave a light chuckle as if he could sense their growing curiosity about him. He lightly clapped his hands together to gain their undivided attention and focus. "Well since this is my first time teaching here, why don't we all play a little game so we can all get better acquainted with each other. Here's what to do. One at a time, say your name and share a wee bit about yourself. Likes, family, interests and all that. I'll go first to show ya what ah mean. Again. My name is Dr. Henry Jekyll. I was born in Glasgow but ah moved to London where I attended university. I have a five year old wee lassie or daughter named Amber. I enjoy chemistry and reading on occasions. Now who would like to go next?" @unhingedexperimenter

Of course Tobey had taken the opportunity to place attention on himself and to have a reason to boast about himself. “My name is Tobey McCallister the third and I will be the most intelligent student you'll meet here.” The others had rolled their eyes, used to this kind of behavior from their peers. Becky seemed to be the most annoyed by it. Having been forced to put up with his destructive tantrums in the past. Henry smiled just as warmly as before. Unbothered by the obnoxious behavior that the boy had been displaying. Tobey had been going on about himself for a good few minutes before the teacher finally spoke up. “Ahem, yes. Thank you for that Mr. McCallister. Would anyone else like to tell me a bit about themselves as well?” No one could tell that behind the facade, Dr. Henry Jekyll was becoming more irritated by the moment. Not by the child but by the pest that refused to leave him be. Scoffing within his head at what they just heard. He didn't share the disembodied voice's opinion but wanted to give the other children a chance to introduce themselves as well. To the others' shock, Tobey seemed to have taken this well. Quickly going back to his desk with no issues. Becky was relieved at that. Soon the other children had started to introduce themselves to their new teacher with little to no issues. He seemed genuinely nice enough to her. This new teacher didn't seem like most of the adults within this city. Some she had to define words repeatedly for. Dr. Jekyll knew what he was teaching and knew his vocabulary. It was Violet who had brought Becky out from her own thoughts, calling her name. Waving a hand in front of her face. “Becky?” The girl smiled in an embarrassed manner. “Huh? Yes?” Violet smiled, patient with her best friend. “Why don't you introduce yourself now? Nearly everybody else already did.” She had given a surprised expression. Becky hadn't realized that she was so lost within her thoughts until then. She stood up and began speaking. “My name is Becky Boxleitner and I also like libraries,reading and Pretty Princess.” The presence that was grating at the teacher's nerves had deemed this too dull to enjoy. Leaving Dr. Jekyll be to his teaching. Well, getting to know his students. He was happy to see that they were engaged in these activities that were meant to break the ice. Though one student in particular had caught his attention the most. Becky. While she did seem rather bright, there was something strange about her behavior at times. Pausing whatever she was doing at the time to listen in on something. Thinking it went unnoticed. Even once looking alarmed and she made an excuse to go to the bathroom. He had allowed it. Feeling that it would've been better to have let her. It seemed…oddly familiar. As if he had seen that behavior somewhere before but couldn't figure out exactly where from. When the school day was finally over, Becky had gone to go home like the others. Dr. Jekyll had of course stayed behind to set more things up within his new classroom. Making a plan on exactly what he'll actually start teaching the next day. Though, the grating voice had returned to be a thorn in his side. “Come on. Leave this boring stuff alone. Leave it until tomorrow. I've been pent up for far too long. Let's have some fun.” This had earned an eye roll and a loud huff from the teacher. “No, I've got to get this done now. You will have enough time tonight. Just be patient until then.” A shadowy figure formed in front of Dr. Jekyll. A frown on its face. “But this is so extremely dull. I want to stretch my legs. I want to make myself known already.” Dr. Jekyll glared. “And that is precisely why I'm so hesitant to let you out so soon. At least let us get acclimated to our surroundings first.” The figure let out an annoyed groan. “You know you want this as much as I do. Otherwise you'd never have any actual fun in the sad and pathetic life you call yours.”

@thecountoflondonfansite

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Hades

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades

Lucifer

Well… this is awkward…

He’s actually met Hades multiple times for business reasons (Underworld-Devildom relations are amiable if not a little odd. Hades was something of an uncle figure to Diavolo as a wee demon lad, which should speak for itself really). He’s a gloomy fellow and not much for chit-chat, but he never thought they’d end up taking one of his kids by accident…

He had to send a formal apology letter to the Lord of the Underworld immediately, but thankfully he didn’t seem very concerned for his offspring - if anything he appeared to think the Devildom would suit them nicely which was… concerning.

And he was not wrong. The darkness, demons, ghouls, and frights of the Devildom hardly seemed to faze the MC, if anything they fit right in. He’d dare say they were thriving if not for one thing…

They were So. Damn. Bleak.

Getting a smile out of this one AT ALL was rare. For once he felt the need to check up on someone constantly just to be sure they were alright... They’d keep assuring the House that they’re not actually as sad as they look but it’s hard not to assume…

He was a little mortified at first when they first met Cerberus cause… well they called him “Cerbi” and the massive demonic guard dog rolled over for them like a Golden Retriever! 

Apparently he and the Cerberus that they knew are from the same litter and they must have smelt familiar... He would have probably limited their interactions just to keep his dog on his side but after seeing the MC smile for once while they played with the big oaf well…

Cerberus got a new playmate and the MC got a massive, three-headed therapy animal. Win-win. 😌

Mammon

Do ya really gotta be such a downer all the time, MC…? 😔

He thinks they’re nice, like really nice. They’re always super concerned when his brothers attack him or when he gets injured, but he’s pretty sure it’s because they’ve seen people die before so…

At first, he had no idea why he had to be saddled with this depressing wisp of mortal but over time he started to understand that they weren’t all that sad. They had… Resting Gloom Face? Is that a thing? 

They also had a different way of seeing things. He could win the lottery and they’d tell him to stay inside so he wouldn’t get hit by lightning or if he pissed off the wrong people, they’d joke about him keeping his fingers and toes. Dark stuff, but not intended to be so… well morbid.

However, what he eventually found out that the REAL advantage to having a Hades kid in the Devildom was that nothing scared them. Literally nothing. Not even the ghosts - which to reiterate, are terrifying!

Cue Mammon getting dragged to horror movies nights with his brothers and pulling the MC along to be his personal security blanket. He’ll hold onto them for dear life as they just pat his head or something, watching and not even flinching at the jumpscares.

The first time the House had an unexpected power outage he clung onto the back of their shirt like a lost child while they calmly looked for the circuit-breaker...

If he could jump into their arms every time something scary happened like Scooby-Doo, he absolutely would. His brothers make fun of him, but after seeing the MC handle Cerberus like a puppy any time something frightens them they hide behind the mortal as well…

Leviathan

In some ways, he totally relates to their moodiness but come on! Who can still look so sad when watching The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl?? Ruri-chan can make anyone smile! 😠

When he first met the MC, he was a little confused about why they didn't find him intimidating at all. He even reverted to his demon form and showed his fangs but no dice! All they said was, "I've walked along the edge of Tartarus. You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that, buddy…" 

That was probably his first sign that the "human" wasn't normal…

After Mammon told him who their Dad was, things made a lot more sense. A child of Hades in the Devildom? That's ironic enough to be its own anime plot!! They certainly felt like an angsty protagonist at times. 🤷‍♀️

Truth be told, they could relate to each other in a lot of ways. You wouldn't think that an offspring of the Underworld and a demonic shut-in would have much in common but the one thing they share between them is that sense of never really fitting in.

Turns out that Hades kids are black sheep, even among other demigods, and Levi? Well, he's had trouble relating to others since his angel days. He and the mortal were like off-beat kindred spirits!

Which, I mean, you wouldn't get just by looking at them together. Levi being the impassioned super-otaku rambling their ear off while his somber companion would just go along with him quietly, but hey, there's more beneath the surface. Probably. 

Now if he could just get them to cosplay as the Lord of Emptiness with him… They'd be perfect! Perfect he says!!

Satan

Highly considered drugging their food with antidepressants for a while… 

This was before getting to know them better, of course, but for the first couple months he honestly couldn't shake the feeling that the mortal looked miserable! 

Now, he's one to particularly care for the comfort of strangers, but just looking at them like that every day would sour his own mood quite considerably. It was very irritating...

It was only on closer inspection that he realized there was something else at play, though.

The mortal was different - even for a demigod he imagined. They took to the Devildom easily and the realm almost accepted them right back!

The flora looked better in their presence, the hellish beasts that roamed the wilds would roll over for them, and they even seemed to be welcomed in by the never-ending shadows… 

It was fascinating. Like the effects of the Underworld were baked into their DNA and mingled with the environment around them… Two layers of darkness coexisting within one person.

I mean, what other creature - other than Lucifer - could ride Cerberus around like a pony??

Had they not been so kind, they'd probably scare him shit-less... Their potential power was too great to ignore. But after getting used to their gloom, at least they made for pleasant company. 🤷‍♀️

Satan likes them well enough, but even still he has to wonder just what they were capable of… you know?

Asmodeus

Oh. My. WORD. What a buzzkill!!!

Really, the new mortal was no good at parties or pictures for that matter!

Not because they looked bad, or even because he couldn't get them to smile, but because GHOSTS would always photobomb any pictures they were in!! 😫

One time he got a selfie with them on the couch and a creepy ghost child could be seen hiding behind the cushions so NOPE. No more photos with the mortal around!!

Aside from that, he couldn't say the mortal was all bad or anything…They were pretty friendly, despite their general look and feel. 

Though, personally, he thought they wore far too much black... Even in the Devildom, there's normally a pop of color, you know? Was that just the Hades dress code?

And you want to know the weirdest thing? Despite everything about them screaming "Doom and Gloom," they're straaaangely popular among the RAD dating scene…

Like. Not as some heartthrob, "Love'em and Leave'em"-type, but he's found that there's a LOT of his demonic classmates who think they're cute or have a crush on them in some way…

Naturally, he can see the appeal of the mysterious, moody demigod with a dark, troubled past. It's just the demigod in question is completely oblivious to it! 🤷‍♀️

He tried to give them dating tips or play matchmaker from time to time but eventually gave up when it was clear they weren't interested. Alas, students of RAD, this is one forbidden fruit that refuses to be shared…! Such a tragedy… 😔

Beelzebub

They remind him of Belphie… like. A lot.

The similarities were obvious. They had a similar feel, made similar jokes, and even the same somewhat dreary attitude about them...

If he were being honest, at the beginning there were times when he'd open up to them a lot more than he intended because he'd forget that he wasn't actually talking to Belphie…

Thankfully, he knew better than to try and treat them like his replacement or anything. They were two different people after all. But it didn't stop him from feeling extra protective around them for a while.

Besides, there was ONE thing that set them leagues apart from Belphie and that was the fact they were a shit cook. Not quite as bad as Solomon but uh… Actually no, that's a closer call than it has any right to be...

Apparently, Hades kids don't need to eat as much and when you hang out with shades and skeletons for most of your life, you don’t really worry about making food that's any better than… "Well, technically it's edible." 🤷‍♀️

Their food won't kill a person like Solomon's, but you WILL start seeing stuff you probably shouldn't. He tried their "soup" once and swore he saw the ghost of his mother… and he doesn't even have a mother!!!

He swears that if he ever sees the MC and Solomon working together in the same kitchen he's skipping town… Whatever culinary abomination the two of them could create would probably gain sentience and eat HIM instead. He's always figured he'd go out with Death by Food, but not like that!! 😫

Belphegor

Ever meet someone who’s like looking in a mirror? Yeah, he’s getting those vibes…

He never expected the "human" to be so similar to him, it was kind of uncanny.

Upon first laying eyes on each other there was a pause… then a squint… and then… a nod.

Honestly, their combined dry wit, dark humor, and pessimistic outlook played off of each other surprisingly well. Too well for him to hate, really.

Not that it mattered because they didn’t believe him for a second when he tried to trick them (they had dealt with loads of lying monsters before). He hated to admit it, but they had a good head on their shoulders and knew better than to trust a locked up demon…

And yet, they seemed to stick around with him anyway. Because of the good conversation or just empathizing with his loneliness was anyone's guess. 🤷‍♀️

Sometimes they'd come up and sit outside the door in comfortable silence… Or they'd talk about whatever:

MC: *sitting out by the attic with their back against the door* So what happens to demons when they die…?

Belphie: *laying on the floor on the other side, staring at the ceiling* Depends on the kind. If I die, I'll just reform later.

MC: Like a reincarnation?

Belphie: Eh. *shrugs* Maybe. Haven't died yet.

MC: You could die in there, you know.

Belphie: *throws a side glare* Well thanks for bringing that up…

MC: *shrugs* What? It's true. But don't worry, I won't let you. *small-ish smile*

Belphie: *stares at them wide-eyed and pink-cheeked before turning on his side quickly* Ugh… whatever…

They did their word, somehow. They eventually got the door open and let him out, but by that time the anger was gone and he was just happy to finally talk to them face-to-face...

And good thing too, because apparently it's not smart to fight a death-child in what is essentially their element - as he saw when they summoned an army of skeletons to kick Levi's ass when he cheated them in Devil Cart...

He would not have lasted in that fight... Dodged a bullet there. 

[renegades-garbage]

Chapter One- Two Families Broken

The first chapter! I’m kinda proud of this one so I hope you like it!

This takes place ten years before the actual story just like the beginning of Renegades, so they will be older in the next chapter don’t worry.

Anyways I hope you enjoy it! Love you all!

Tags- @the-wee-woo-royal @aaaangie

CHAPTER ONE

Nova had always been a mature child. It came with the territory of living with the Erudite. Everything functioned like a well oiled machine there, so, despite only being 6 years old, when her parents asked for help with chores or her baby sister Evie she was ready to lend a hand. 

She wasn’t sure how long it had been since her Papa had asked her to put Evie to sleep with her powers, but when she woke up after their nap she felt well rested. Nova could see the sun setting through the large windows in her house. 

She laid there for a few moments perfectly content before she heard her father’s voice in the living room. Nova hopped off the couch and walked down the hall leading to the main room of their home. 

When she got there she was greeted with the sight of her Mama and Papa on their knees and a strange man pointing a gun at them. Her mouth fell open and terror struck her heart.

“Please don’t hurt my family.” Her Papa was saying. “Tell him they haven’t done anything wrong.” 

 Him. Who is Him? She racked her brain for an answer but found nothing.

“I can’t do that. My orders are to leave no witnesses” the man said. Just before raising the gun to her father’s head and firing. Tears filled Nova’s eyes and let out a scream. “PAPA” 

Her mother whipped her head towards her, just now realizing she was there. She started to get up, trying to go to her but the strange man shot her too. Blood was splattered everywhere, the walls, the windows, the plush carpet. Nova’s heart was pounding in her chest and tears were now streaming freely down her face.

The man turned his head to her and she ran to her bedroom. She ducked into a closet hoping the man wouldn’t find her. She heard him opening cabinets, slamming them closed, and yelling to her, playing a cruel game of hide and seek. 

She sat down pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around herself. The Renegades will come. The Renegades will save me. Nova thought to herself, her parents had always taught her to put faith in the Dauntless soldiers that worked for the renegades. 

Just then she heard a sound. A baby crying. She had left Evie. 

She started sobbing even harder knowing that if she tried to save her sister, they would both be killed. I should’ve brought her. I could've saved her.

The Renegades will come. She thought again just as a gunshot silenced her sister’s cries. 

There was silence, save for her shaky breaths, for a few moments before she heard the footsteps. For a split second she was naive enough to think it might be someone coming to save her. A renegade coming to save her. 

But that thought was ruined the moment the closet door was flung open. 

“Found you” the man said, wearing a sadistic smile, and lifting the gun to her head.

Before Nova could even think she was raising her hand to the man’s wrist, grabbing it, and letting her power roll through her. 

He fell to the ground. Asleep. Nova walked over, shaking, and took the gun out of his limp hand. She aimed it straight at his head. 

Pull the trigger. She said to herself. Just pull the trigger Nova.

But no matter how many times she repeated the mantra to herself she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring herself to kill this man even though he had slaughtered her family.

She stood there for what felt like hours, though it could have been mere seconds, before someone walked through the door. A renegade! She thought, but then she turned around and realized that it was just about the farthest thing from it. 

“Uncle Alec” She cried as she ran over to hug him. She didn’t see him much as any relations with the factionless were frowned upon, but she needed comfort. He returned her embrace.

“You can’t call me that anymore okay. It's Ace now, Uncle Ace.” He said in a calm voice. She didn’t know why he was asking this of her, but she agreed. She just wanted to get out of here. 

“The renegades didn’t come.” Nova said to him. 

“You're right,'' he said. “Those people don’t keep their promises, you can’t trust them, okay, my little nightmare?.” 

“Okay” she said 

“Let’s go” 

She only nodded and sniffled before letting him lead her out of her home. She could still hear the

BANG 

BANG 

BANG 

of the gun echoing through her skull. 

                                                                - - - - - - - - - 

Adrian had just woken up from a nightmare. A recurring one that he couldn’t seem to shake. It always involved a dark figure looming behind him, and often his mother, Lady Indomitable would leave only to never return.

He steadied his breathing and wiped the tears out of his eyes. He sat up and looked out his window at Amity’s rolling hills and orchards that always brought him comfort.

He heard the front door creak open, and though normally he was able to go back to sleep after his nightmare, this time he needed to see his mom. He needed to make sure that she was ok. 

Adrian’s mother was Lady Indomitable, a superhero. All of the renegades hired to be superheroes were Dauntless. Except for the members of the council from other factions. Adrian often feared for his mother’s safety, but she almost always came home unscathed.

He hopped out of bed and walked to his door nearly tripping over some stray art supplies. At only seven years old Adrian was quite the artist, partially because of his gift- making drawings come to life.

When he opened the door he was not greeted with the sight of his mother getting home from a long day of work like he thought he would be. What he saw instead was Captain Chromium and the Dread Warden, or as he knew them, Uncle Hugh and Uncle Simon, standing in his living room with tears in their eyes.

As soon as they heard the door they looked at Adrian with a pitying look in their eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Both men sat down and gestured for Adrian to sit down as well. His two uncles looked at each other and finally Hugh cleared his throat and spoke.

“Adrian, your mother. She.. Something bad happened to her and she…well.” He couldn’t seem to find the right words. Visions from Adrian’s nightmare began to fill his head again. 

“What happened? Where's mommy?” he asked. 

“She…She’s gone honey. She passed away tonight.” Uncle Simon said through his own tears. 

Adrian immediately broke down crying, and Simon and Hugh brought him into a hug. “Why? What happened.?” he asked 

“She fell, from very high up.” Uncle Hugh told him.

“But she can fly.” Adrian said. 

There was silence, it seemed they too were baffled by the fact that she died this way. 

“Lets go to our house” Uncle Simon said “We can come back for your stuff tomorrow. Okay?”

Adrian only nodded and sniffled before letting them lead him out of his apartment. He could still feel the eyes of the dark figure from his nightmares on his back.

[renee-writer]

Take the Wheel Chapter One

AO3

“Kiara Ann what is mammy to do?” Her 18 month old daughter laughs from the back seat where she is snuggly strapped into her car seat. “That’s a big help.” How did she end up a single mum driving by herself with her daughter in a snow storm. It wasn’t supposed to be that way.

She meet her father in the last year of her A level classes. He seemed like such a nice respectable guy. Heck, her uncle even liked him. Now three years later, she is here. Alone.

Her Uncle Lamb died when Kiara was six months. A fast moving cancer, it was. Then her bloody father found out that the care of a child was to much and abandoned them. That is why she finds herself, at nineteen, driving up into the Highlands of Scotland to work as a nanny in a place called Lallybroch.

“It will be alright baby girl,” Baby! Her child yells out. “That’s right. You’re mammy’s baby girl and I will see to you. I promise.” Distracted by her daughter, she didn’t realize she was drifting towards a snow bank, until she was in it.

“Jesus, take the wheel!” it is all she had time to say before she was stuck. The car jarred and she quickly turns and looks back. Kiara still giggles. Thank God she is alright. Now what?

He was driving back home after a night out with his mates. As much as he loves his family, he sometimes needs a break from their obsessive love. His sister keeps trying to set him up. Happily married to his best mate, she wants the same for her baby brother. But he is only twenty and isn’t ready to settle down yet. He sighs thinking about it. The whole married and children thing isn’t something he wants right now. His sister has enough. So much they need a nanny. Isn’t that enough for his parents?

The storm picks up. Dang. He slows down and pays more attention to the road ahead. What is that? He slows farther. Crips, there is car stuck in the snow bank.

He pulls over and hurries out. A baby and a lass are inside. He knocks on the window.

A tall man with a tartan scarf stands by their window. “Man mammy.” Kiara comments.

“I see love.” She cracks the window down a hair and the cold air rushes in.

“Hello lass, I see you got yourself in a bit of a jam.”

“Yes I,” she looks back to her daughter, “we got distracted.” Her voice is sweet and Irish.

“Aye, it can be tricky. May I assist you? My name is Jamie Fraser. I live just up the road.”

“Thank you Jamie. I am Claire Beauchamp and this is Kiara Ann.”

“It is very nice to meet you Claire and Kiara.” He is studying the problem. “I think you will have to be towed out.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Hell!” Kiara cheerfully repeats. Claire closes her eyes.

“I try not to do that.” She moans. He laughs.

“No parent is perfect, eh. I assume you are her mam?”

“Yes. The mam that got us stuck.”

“Stuck!”

“Wee little parrot.” Jamie laughs. “Now we need to get you guys out.”

“You have a tow bar?”

“Nae but I can run you guys to where you need to go. Heading up either Leoch or Lallybroch, as there the only houses up this way. “

“Lallybroch.” She has to shout to be heard over the raising wind.

“Perfect as I am heading there myself. Come let’s get you guys into my warm car and back on the road. “ She hesitates. “Good guy, I swear.”

“Mammy cold.”

“Alright.” He helps her and the baby out, fetching the car seat and the nappy bag. He re-straps her in. “You’ve had experience?”

“Aye, lots of nieces and nephews.” They are soon back on the road.