#this man lives for his kids

[bokettochild]

Opera house AU

I can actually see Linkle being pretty close to Wind and Aryll. She's just as responsible with them as Wars, but more open to Shenanigans. The four have the most intense board game nights ever seen, there's more double dealing, backstabbing and gerrymandering in their average game of Settlers of Catan then the 2020 US Election

Well, since you asked (suggested?)

Happy late birthday! Here is the Catan fic we've been chatting about!

There are many ways Warriors likes to de-stress after a long day at work. Running into his twin sister outside of his apartment though, is not one of them.  

 It’s not that he dislikes his job, in fact, he’s very fond of it. He likes acting, he likes the opera, and most importantly, he likes his boss, his co-workers, and even most of his fans. His agent, not so much, but that’s neither here nor there; almost nobody likes their agent. The only people he’s heard of who like their agent are Legend and Ravio, and that’s only because Dot is their so-called ‘agent’, if only on paper. The girl isn’t fully qualified for the actual job, but he’s half a mind to sign with her once she is, if only to get away from the Dragmire agency.  

 Regardless of future plans though, he loves his job. He has no intention of leaving, even if balancing rehearsals and college is a bit of a struggle on some days. Today is one of those days though, and after spending all day working with Sky and Time on choreography, the only thing he wants to do is make dinner for himself and the kids, kick his feet up, and finally read something other than a textbook. No, check that, maybe watch a show with Wind; Aryll too if she’s interested, although she usually isn't. Still, he has the feeling if they start watching anything, she’ll come out for snacks and cuddles, which he doesn’t mind in the least.  

 He’s running down the list of movies they’ve been wanting to watch as he climbs out of his car. Some of them are action, some thriller, a couple mysteries at his insistence and of course some pirate ones for Wind. Usually, he’s not so keen on that sort of thing, but he supposes the whimsical part of his brain has been gathering dust for the last while, and he could probably tolerate a pirate movie tonight, after sufficient begging from his cousin and maybe the promise to get the dishes done for the next week.  

 Right, dishes.   

 Heavens, he needs to talk to the landlord about when the new dishwasher is supposed to be installed. He also needs to wash and put away the dishes from last night, because he’d had an assignment due and hadn’t had time once the kids had gone to bed, and this morning he had to drop them off at school, so there wasn’t time then either. Honestly, you’d think three people wouldn’t use that much kitchenware, but the full sink waiting for him in the third-floor apartment would indicate otherwise.  

 Warriors sighs. Keys in the front door but know not yet turned, he takes a moment to just... lean against the doorframe and sigh.  

 It’s been a long week.  

 “Link!”  

 The sound of his name, his birth name, even spoken by a familiar voice, makes him start, and he goes from leaing on the door to slamming his head against it in surprise, keys already ripping out of the lock and brandished like they could actually do any harm. Well, they could, but not as much as a proper weapon. He hates city rules; back home he could have a switchblade on him and no one would think anything of it!  

 He doesn’t need a weapon though, at least at the moment, because the person standing behind him is his twin sister, and honestly, even if he was properly armed, she’s almost as good with a switchblade as he is, and she’d probably be able to dodge an attack even if he did make one. As it is, the blonde woman stares at him, bright eyes hard for a moment and smile frozen as she takes him in, but then it’s gone and she’s all sunshine and madness again, something wild in her smile that has him on edge for a whole new reason. A reason that has nothing to do with mistaking her for one of his stalkers. “I‘m so glad you’re home! I brought something for you and the kiddos!”  

 Loosening his fingers, he lets most of his keys fall free again from between them, door key still in hand as he fumbles for the knob, wary of turning his back even if it is his sister. Especially if it is his sister; she’s unpredictable at the best of times, and he’s not sure she won’t pull something if he’s not looking. It wouldn’t be malicious, but it would be incredibally annoying, and they both know it. Her attempt at an innocent smile as he finally slides the key into the lock says that she knows it, and she doesn't regret it either.  

 “Do I want to know?”  

 A shrug, but her smile lingers, bright and chipper, and he can’t help how the sight of it makes him smile in answer.  

 “Is it chaos contained, or something nice?”  

 “Can’t it be both?”  

 “No pyrotechnics in my home. I will kick you to the curb and block you from all social media; even the opera one.” Linkle pouts, which would be effective from any of their other sisters, but considering they’re nearly identical twins, it just makes him snort in laughter instead. “Well, is it a nice surprise, or one that will make me disown you?” he chuckles, pulling the door open, and then wincing when it squeaks.  

 He needs to talk to the landlord about that too, he supposes. Mentally, he adds it to the list: dishwasher, squeaky door, and the flickering hall lights. Honestly, he swears no one in this building talks to the guy anymore! If he doesn’t call, nothing’s ever done about these things!  

 He must sigh aloud, because Linkle starts shaking her head, clucking her tongue like Mother used to when they were small. “You need to find a better place to live.” She ducks in through the door without invitation, but he holds it open for her all the same. It has to be tugged firmly so that the lock clicks back into place again, but it’s long since become habit to do that; it’s an old building, the door frames warp with time. Honestly, pulling the door shut is the least of his worries about this place.  

 “It’s cheap.”  

 “You have kids living with you.” She reminds him.  

 He shrugs, juggling his bookbag, keys and the grocery bags he’d grabbed on his way home, in order to find his other apartment key; the one for his unit, not just the front door. “Know another place where I can rent a clean three-bedroom apartment; I’m all ears.”  

 His sister’s fist makes contact with his shoulder in answer, but he’s been fielding punches from Sky all day, and it honestly hurts far less than the skyloftian’s blows. Usually, he dodges Sky just fine, but he’d been a bit off his game today, and he’s pretty sure he’s got some nasty bruising under his shirt as a result, although admitting as much to Time, or Sky for that matter, is out of the question. They'd been worried enough as was. He’s fine, honestly. The skin is tender, and the muscles will be sore, but letting them know that would just upset his co-worker, not fix it. And would’ve made Time’s scolding to them both far more intense.  

 He knows, beneath that harsh veneer, that their director is a kind man, but on days like today, it’s easy to forget that. Maybe he needs to text Twilight and tell him to let the old man watch Legend for a day, that might get him to ease up.  

 Linkle, beside him, must get tired of him fumbling his keys one handed, because she snatches them out of his hand with a put-upon sigh, flicking through them until she finds the right one and unlocking the door for him. Honestly, he doesn’t mind. If anything, it means he can re-distribute the weight of the grocery bags between here and the kitchen counter.  

 “I’m home!” He calls, stepping into the door and sliding his shoes off onto the mat. Linkle has to crouch to untie her steel-toes, but those too join the three other pairs on the mat as he moves to the kitchen, relief washing over him as he sets the groceries down. There’s shuffling from down the hall, one or both of the kids busy in their rooms. Like their old hound, Linkle starts towards the sound immediately, back-pack still slung over one shoulder while he turns his attention to putting away food and starting a pot of water for pasta.  

 No pyrotechnics, he reminds himself. No destruction. Linkle wouldn’t actually, he thinks- he hopes, but he’s still got no clue what her “surprise” is. Knowing her though, she’ll tell the kids she has one, then hold it over their heads through dinner. Ah well, better to get food on the proverbial table sooner rather than later, that way the eager nagging won’t last forever.  

-  

 Warriors isn’t the best cook, not by any means, but he’s managed to keep himself and his kid cousins alive this long, and while he’s under no delusions that his work in any ways lives up to Granny’s cooking, the kids are happy, and well fed, and that’s really all he can ask for. Sure, food is messy, and yes, there's dishes left, but Linkle, sweet, sweet Linkle, his bestest twin sister, has bribed their cousins into washing the dishes before they can have their surprise. Neither question it.  

 He could have asked them to help, but putting his feet up while they work never sits well with him. Aryll pushing him into the family room and into his recliner while Wind scurries around the kitchen, cajoling Linkle for clues, well, that’s a different matter! The girl won’t let him get up!  

 “We’ll hurry!” His youngest cousin promises, yanking on the lever on the side of the chair and making him laugh as his feet are literally swept up in front of him onto the footrest. Linkle cackles too, but then Aryll’s bouncing over to the kitchen, voice shrill. “Wash faster, Wind! I wanna see the surprise!”  

 He laughs at the two, soft, so they don’t hear and think he’s making fun of them, but he can’t help it. Likewise, his twin does the same, moving to climb into the recliner opposite his own. “Oh dear, poor Link! No dishes for him to wash!”  

 “Poor me,” he sighs, sinking into his chair and blessing his past self for buying the set. It was a bit of a splurge, but it’s proved to be worth it over the years, and a great delight at the end of a long day. He’s just letting his eyes slip closed- not to sleep, but to rest them long enough that light doesn't hurt- when a flick to his nose has him blinking up at his sister again with a huff. “Seriously?”  

 “Don’t go sleeping now, there’s still a surprise,” she scolds.  

 “For the kids,” he rubs at his nose. That hurt. “It doesn’t have anything to do with me.”  

 “Did I say that?”  

 “Linkle.”  

 “I didn’t say that.”  

Another sigh. “No, I suppose you didn’t.”  

 “It’s for all of us,” she says, but her voice is low, conspiratory, and there’s that twinkle in her eyes again.  

 He has some concerns, but he doesn’t speak them. No. Instead, he humors his sibling while the kids clean up, and then when they've all gathered again in the family room, Aryll squishing up beside him and Wind flopping down in an ungraceful pile of teenage boy on the floor, he turns to stare pointedly at his twin. “I believe there’s a surprise someone owes us?”  

 Another sly little grin, but the backpack is opened, and a brightly colored parcel, somewhat badly wrapped and definitely scuffed, is produced and dropped into Aryll’s lap. “There we go.”  

 No cue needs be spoken, little hands are already tearing away paper, and while neither of the two younger ones is really sure of what it is once the paper is gone, Warriors can’t help the deep belly laugh that explodes out of him when he sees the familiar box. “Catan? Linkle, are you kidding me?”  

 “I thought the kids-”  

 “Oh, sure! ‘The kids’!”  

 She’s laughing too, although she’s trying so hard to pretend that she isn’t. “Yes! You never have any good family games here-”  

 “We have Monopoly!” Their young cousins chorus, but the words get drowned out by his twin’s own.  

 “-so, I thought I’d get you one!”  

 “You’re a glutton for punishment, you are.” He laughs. “Was it not bad enough, me handing you your ass all those years as a kid? Need me to do it again, do you?”  

 The kids are exchanging a look, confused but amused, glancing between the two adults with expressions that he’d dare say are amused, in their own way. They both definitely take after their mum; he swears Wind’s eyeroll is just the same as the diva’s aunt when she was left out of a conversation by her older siblings, his own mother included. Still, he takes his time teasing his sister for a moment more, before finally both twins decide to explain how to play to the kids, who are all too eager to learn now in the wake of their banter. 

 “So, it’s pretty simple,” he opens the box as he speaks. It’s a new one, the game, and doesn’t nearly crumble under his fingers, but he’s dreadfully careful all the same, out of habit. The pieces sit in their little plastic cubbies within for all of a moment, before a flick of the wrist has the box spilling onto the coffee table where they can all reach. The ‘thief’ piece rolls off the side, and Wind dives for it, but honestly, Warriors isn’t worried about it. “I’ll show you how to assemble it, but play is easy enough.”  

 And assembly is easy. Their old game was so used it was warped on the edge of the frame (Lilly had spilled water on it when she was tiny) but the ocean painted pieces fit nicely together with this one, and after a quick shuffle of the hexagonal land tiles, he lays them out at random into the frame. Well, mostly at random. The desert tile goes in the middle, because it always does. Linkle snorts at him for it too.  

 “Desert in the middle.”  

 “It’s not a rule.” She points out, as if she wouldn't protest if he'd done anything ese. 

 “House rules. My house, my rules.” He’s not mad though, even if his tone is flat, and Aryl is now the one rolling her eyes as Wind sighs at them, head propped up in his hands and making his cheeks squish adorably.  

 “You two are ridiculous.”  

 “We’re adults,” he corrects, continuing to set the tiles, “which means we take the time to be dumb when we can.”  

 A brow raises in answer, the older of his two charges leveling him with a Look. “I have video evidence otherwise.”  

  “And I have baby pictures I’m happy to leak,” he tugs his cousin’s ear in response, “don’t make me use them, snickerdoodle.”  

  That seems to get the kid to stop with his threats, which is for the best because he most certainly does not want Linkle to have all the details about his work life. Wind, he doesn’t mind knowing, Aryll too, but his twin is a whole other matter; he doesn’t want the chaos from work to spread to the family. He’d ever lie it down. 

  “So how does play work?” Aryll asks, already spilling out the packets of little wooden buildings and roads into neat piles along the edge of the table, color coded because of course she does. 

  Warriors grins at her, setting the box aside and resisting, barely, the urge to shove it on Wind’s head. He’s an adult though, a responsible one, and he will not display such behaviors. No, he’ll just kick their asses in game with a smile on his face. “Well, now that the land is spread out, which you do at random, we have to lay the number tiles, here-” he picks up the back, tugging it open and spilling it into his hand for the middle schooler to see, “-out on top of the land pieces.” 

  “Also, at random,” Linkle adds, swiping one. “You place them on whatever order you get them, on every land piece except the desert one.” 

  “What goes there?” Wind asks, fidgeting with the ‘thief’ he’d picked up off the floor. 

  The eldest mischief maker reaches over a smile on her face as she plucks the wooden figure from his fingers. “Our lovely knight of course!” 

  “It’s a thief.”  He corrects, still laying number tiles with Aryll’s assistance. 

  “Knight.” Linkle corrects, knowing she’s wrong and purposefully causing problems on purpose because that’s what she does. As kids, they never would have dreamed of challenging the ingo of the game, even if their terms hadn’t been quite what was in the rulebook. As adults though, Linkle delights in opposing everything he has to say, as if doing so makes this more fun. She’s not wrong either; the easy, mindless bickering is relaxing in its own way. It definitely distracts his attention from anything else at any rate. 

  With a roll of his eyes, Warriors puts away any extra pieces. He debates placing them neatly in the box, but then decides, screw it and drops them it to land how they will. He can worry about it later. Or not at all. Losers are the ones who clean up the game, after all, so it might not even be is problem. “Okay, so, play goes like this.” He grabs a tiny wooden house from one of Aryll’s piles; blue, because they don’t have purple. “Each player takes a turn laying a house on a corner where three of the land tiles intersect,” he sets his down between a forest tile, a brick quarry and a sheep pasture, “usually with the knowledge that when we play, whatever resource tile your piece is touch is the resource you’re going to be earning during the game.” He plucks a matching blue road from the pile Aryll has pushed in front of him, setting it down beside his house, facing in land and already starting a path towards where other desirable tiles are. “The way it works is that, when each player rolls the dice, if the number on the dice matches the number on one of your land tiles, you get a resource card for every house touching that tile.” 

  “So,” Linkle picks up, setting down a green house a fair distance away from his, on forest, field and pasture tiles, “because I placed my house near a ten a three and a four, if any of those numbers are rolled, I get the resource for the land tile.” 

  “So, four means a sheep?” The youngest holds up the deck of cards she’d sorted through, apparently while no one was watching, offering the mentioned resource to the older girl. 

  Her cousin nods. “Yep. And because Wars is touching a nine a six and a five, if any of those numbers are rolled, he gets what’s on those.” 

  “What’s the thief-knight for?” One sun-browned finger toggles said figure back and forth in the midst of his desert wasteland, big sea-green eyes staring at the older two.  

  Warriors chuckles. “Well, if you haven’t noticed, all the number tiles have numbers from two to twelve on them; all the numbers you can roll with two six-sided dice; but there’s one missing.” 

  Those green eyes fall to inspect the board, Aryll popping up to lean over the table, likewise searching until both blonde heads are popping up in time with each other. “The seven?” 

  “Yep,” he pops the ‘p’. “If you roll a seven, there’s no land tie for that, so you move the thief to someone else’s land tile and get to take one of their resource cards.” 

  “But whatever number you put the thief on, if someone rolls it after, no one gets whatever resource it is. The knight has that depot under siege, and nothing gets in or out!” Linkle adds, with enough drama that really, she could have been an actress. If she was better at following orders anyhow. Time wouldn’t, and can’t, tolerate her as is. 

  The younger of his two cousins nods, slowly. She’s still processing, but they’d really dumbed the game down a bit. Honestly speaking, he doesn’t remember most of the official rules, although in playing it with others, he’s since learned that there are many ways and some rules that are held as golden by some and disregarded by others. In the long run, he doesn’t suppose how they play matters much, as long as the core basics stick, and he’s not going to overwhelm the little guppy with finite details. As is, she’s grabbing for the red pieces and shuffling the pile of wood her way, prompting her brother to do the same with the orange ones. 

  Of course, Wind chooses orange. He should have seen that coming. 

  “So, I place my house, and then this….” 

  “Road,” he supplies. “It has to touch the house, but you can put it between any two of the pieces.” To illustrate, he motions to his own set up, tapping carefully the other two possible routes for the wooden highway to follow. 

  Aryll nods, setting down her house, between a field, a pasture and a mountain quarry, big blue eyes looking up at him expectantly. 

  He nods. “Perfect.” 

  “What are these though?” Trust Wind’s eyes to fall on the printed ships set around the board at the edges of the land tiles. You can take a child from the sea, but you can’t take the sea from a child it would seem. “Can you sail around in this game?” 

  “No,” and while Linkle turns a questioning look at him, he still shakes his head. “Not this version anyway, although I think someone told me once that there is a version for that. I could be wrong though. In this version though, those are what we in the game call ‘ports’.” 

  The deadpan stare is worth all the effort he’d put into keeping his face straight for that line. 

  Laughter overtakes him at his cousin’s obvious “no really!” and Warriors has to be terribly careful not to disturb the board in his mirth. “The sails on the ships will tell you what trading discounts you can get by putting your pieces there. See,” he leans over to read the one under Wind’s finger, “this one says that you can trade for any resource if you give up three sheep.” 

  “What if I don’t have sheep?”   

  “You suffer.” 

  Linkle snorts. “You have to make sure you get sheep somehow then.” 

  Wind nods slowly. “So, you can only trade if you have a house on the port?” 

  “No,” his sister shakes her head, braids flopping against her shoulders. “As a rule, you can trade any set of four like cards for one card of any other type, even if you’re land locked. The ports just mean you get discounts, but they come with a disadvantage too, because by having your house between two land tiles and the ocean, you get one less resource than if you were on only land.” 

  “Is it worth it?” Aryll pushes, chewing her lip. He should tell her not to do that.  

  Linkle shrugs. “Depends really. It can be a lifesaver, or it can ruin you. Depends on how you play your cards.” 

  “And speaking of playing cards!” He’ll let Aryll be tonight, she’s not hurting herself so it should be fine. “Here are your purchasing menus!” He hands out the reference tiles to the two younger, in their chosen colors. He doesn’t grab any for himself or Linkle though since they don’t really need them. “You can trade resource cards for more buildings and roads, or upgrade the buildings you already have into cities. These tell you what resources and how many of them you need to do that, and how many points you get for each one.” The rest is self-explanatory, and the kids nod, apparently already catching on. 

  His sister grins. “Now, Wind, place your house and road. Once we’ve all placed one, we get to set out a second one wherever we want.” 

  “What about the shield cards?” Their youngest holds up the deck of painted cards, backed with the image of a round shield. “How do we get those?” 

  “They’re called development cards,” he explains, taking them and setting them beside the board, carefully, so they don’t scatter. “You can get them by giving up a sheep card, wheat, and some ore. They allow special moves, extra points, or sometimes, if you get the monopoly card, you can steal all of a single type of resource card from everyone else.” 

  “Everyone?” 

  “Me, Linkle, and Wind, yes.” 

  “Sweet. I want that one!” 

  He chuckles, tugging at her ear as well, a little gentler than with her brother. “There’s only two of those ones, pumpkin, so chances are slim for most games, but I like your enthusiasm.” 

  She takes that news with a shrug, easy as can be but no doubt already looking forwards to the chaos she could cause by robbing the lot of them. It’s easy to miss with her sweet face and big blue eyes but the younger of his two charges is just as much a terror as her older brother, if not more so on some days. 

  Wind places his houses, and the rest place their second ones, and then with a quick review, and a reminding that “cities” double earnings- because he’d forgotten to mention it until Wind asked why they mattered at all- they start playing. 

  Taylor Family Rule’s state that youngest and ladies go first, but also that, when that becomes a source of contention (as the only brother among six sisters, he did kick up a fuss on occasion about being last every time) then all roll dice for the highest number, and the winner goes first. Maybe out of pity for him, Linkle elects to call for the second option, but it doesn’t matter, because Aryll rolls an eleven anyways. Luckily though, he’s second after her, something she’s quick to cheer about. 

  The kids catch on quick. And much like the cursed game that is Monopoly, it’s not long before the wheedling tones and puppy eyes start turning on him, although Linkle opts for the more direct option of threatening him, point blank. His sister knows, just as well as he does, that weakness such as one sees in those who crumble to cute faces, is a quick path to defeat. Aryll and Wind are cute, but they’re not cute enough to make him budge If anything, just to have him teasing them and reaching out to tickle their sides until they’re screeching at him to stop. 

  As is his habit with Catan, as something of the family champion, Warriors put’s every resource into expanding his territory, building out roads to block the others from building outwards at all, which, unfortunately for Wind, works all too well against the older of his cousins. Linkle, on the other hand, is too used to him, and is building out from two locations, meanwhile Aryll quietly builds circles around her favorite pieces, long winding roads that circle back on themselves, and while that means he’s cut off from her space, he’s not too worried about her out-building him either. 

  And then Wind manages to settle a house in a pasture, and sheep enter his fold and he starts trading for development cards. 

  Really, they should have expected the kid would take unlimited delight in controlling the knight-thief (they have compromised with that horrendous name). Actually, the fact that he keeps rolling sevens would imply that the thief, too, has an affinity for Wind, something that makes the rest of them all suffer exceedingly. 

  Another seven is rolled, and when Wind’s knight-thief lands on Linkle’s only source of brick (arguably the most in demand resource in this particular game) his twin sister starts glaring. “No.” 

  “Yes.” Wind replies, smugly reaching over.  

  A hand blocks his access to her cards, splayed over to try and protect them. “Wind.” 

 “Linkle.” A bright flashing grin that says he knows he’s won.  

  Warriors and Aryll share a look, and, while the two are fussing at each other, trade a few cards. He’s finally established the longest road, effectively blocking Aryll on one side of the board, opposite from her sibling, and surrounding the smaller of Linkle’s settlements so that she can’t build out and towards anything on that side of the wall. In a way, he and Aryll have established a truce as a result of his ‘protection’, but Linkle and Wind are beginning to go at each others’ throats. 

  He trades a sheep to his youngest cousin in return for more wheat. Might as well start converting settlements to cities, and looking at Aryll’s little pile of cards, he imagines Wind is soon to be challenged for his right to control the thief-knight. 

  “Child, I will end you.” 

  Wind smiles sweetly, fluttering his lashes a bit at the woman. It reminds him of how Legend reacts when he’s especially pissed. “Brick please!” 

  There is only one brick in Linkle’s deck of cards. A overwhelming amount of sheep and wheat fill her hand, but tragically, her forest tile has been blocked frequently, and no one is trading her ore. 

  That’s the downside, he muses as he slips Aryll another sheep, if you don’t build quickly, you lose fast, and really, Linkle ought to know that by now. He taps silently at one of the littlest’s ore this time, which she gives him readily.  

  Aryll, unlike him, had built around the tiles she’d chosen in the beginning, and built thickly. She may not have a twisting road like he does that blocks others one way or another, but she’s got ore and wheat coming out of her ears, and ran out of city pieces ages ago. 

 Technically, the game should have ended when one of them reached ten points, but Taylors never play that way. They play until overwhelming defeat is left to all but one. It’s more fun that way, he muses, sitting back, now out of his chair but resting his back against it all the same. Aryll, predictably, settles against him, squirrelling her way under his arm and propping herself against his shoulder. He doesn’t mind in the least, hand lifting to toy absently with her hair while their siblings bicker.  

  “Do you want me to fix your pigtails?” They’re coming loose. 

  She shakes her head, humming a bit. “No, Imma just pull ‘em out later anyways.” 

  Right, because it’s getting late. He glances down at his watch, it’s 8:38. It should be okay, the kids usually get their homework done before dinner, and they can stay up a bit later tonight, it being a Friday and all. If anything, they’ll be waking up just fine in the morning and it will be them hauling his ass out of bed in the morning! 

  Ignorant of their exchange, of cards or words, Linkle continues to try and convince Wind to take literally anything but her precious bricks. “You’re killing me here! I barely got any building done!” 

  “Well,” Wind returns, fingers inching forwards while royal blue eyes are fixed on his face, “you should have thought about that before you became a peasant!” The card is whipped away, and just as quickly, deposited in the bank as a new orange house finds its way onto the board. 

  Linkle groans, head sinking. “Why me?” 

  “I don’t know,” the voice of their youngest is muddled with a wide yawn. “Warriors warned you, but you didn’t listen. Looks to me like this is your fault.” 

  Aryll is officially his favorite. 

  “I give,” his twin sighs, looking at her desolate kingdom and meager profits before glancing up at them. “Another win for you, I guess, Link.” 

  “No,” Aryll’s smile is wide as she blinks innocently up at the older girl. “I win.” 

 Wait, what? Warriors glances over, counting. He has less cities, yes, but he has the longest road and more settlements and- 

  “I have the biggest army, and the most cities, and-” a development card is flashed, and then another, and three more! “Five bonus points.” 

  “So you do.” He finds himself saying, blinking dumbly down at her where she’s still nestled against him, smile innocent and devious. He’s not sure if he’s feeling more betrayed or proud of her right now. 

  Linkle is giggling like a mad woman. “Oh this is golden! Link lost Catan to the baby! On her first game!” You’d think she was the winner from the way she crows. “This is the best! Absolute best! Wind, you’re forgiven, now help me take a photo to memorialize this moment in family history!” 

  Despite anything he says (and really, they’re toke complaint’s anyways) they do take a photo of them, the board, and Linkle’s wild smile as Aryll flaunts and preens before the camera like any good Taylor would. They take a few more, funny ones of the boys cow-towing to the tiny champion as she drowns in Warriors’ recliner, and all sorts of the like. Honestly, silly photos are basically required in this household. 

  It’s only when Aryll can’t keep smiling past her yawns that he decides bed-time is in order. “Linkle, Wind, you’re on cleanup.” 

  “You lost too!” 

  “I did,” he stoops, scooping up their winner in his arms and smiling as she comes willingly, arms wrapping tight around his neck, “but it’s the winners bed-time, and as winner, she deserves to be tucked in nicely, not ignored. So have fun!” And without further ado, he heads down the hall, eating the losers in the dust. Or rather- leaving the losers amid the tiny wooden houses and cardboard tiles. Eh…it doesn’t have the same ring to it. He likes leaving them in the dust more. 

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Like the majority of society I’m obsessed with Nimona

And I rewatched it a million times and one thing always sticks out to me 

There are moments when Ambrosius is surrounded by light like a little protective bubble 

That keeps him away from the man he loves more than anything 

[chloesimaginationthings]

Have you made anything about how game Michael has a British accent and movie Mike doesn't?

YES I HAVE.. (here’s the og post)

[laufire]

sorry but the whole "jason fans are delulu if they think he's a feminist" thing is hilarious. no, he's not a feminist, in the sense that he's not primarily focused on politically fighting for women's liberation. sorry to break this to you, but neither are any of your favourite male superheroes. nor your favourite female superheroes, for that matter. dc sure isn't writing stories through genuine feminist lenses anymore, come the fuck on.

[jinikaris]

HYUNJIN · · ─  INSTAGRAM LIVE 151224 ♡

[trashvinnie]

inspired by @where-does-the-heart-lie and given courage by @wolf-eared-fangirl and their own wonderful rendition of the asl kpop au.

i got inspired a whole lot by the notes and artworks from whery but also tried to make it my own by making it increasingly impossible realistically. one of those it’s a fanfic and i can make anything possible vibes.

all of these are just concept notes and ideas i was able to keep down for the past what? two months or so? there are a lot more wips and ideas, and i wanted to see if there was anyone who wanted to bump brains with me or was willing to indulge seeing my messy thoughts/notes.

i made law important because i am obsessed with not only asl but him too. no escape from the brain worms, really. even if he doesn’t really pop up in a lot of my current wips for this au…

i should make storyboards but my brain has latched to grps like exo or atz for like. clothes inspo. i have multiple concert wips that needed me to make an entire fake asl concert setlist so that was fun, considering how i ended up adding eng and jp songs… i cannot contain myself and have been repeatedly editing everything I have on this for months ,,,

[ego-meliorem-esse]

July 13th, 1917

Be it from a sense of paternal concern or simply patriotic duty, Arthur made sure to leave his soldiers in the charge of an older Corporal and made his way to the quite pathetic excuse of a medical section where his son was left to rot.

Arthur had heard about the attack. He had been informed the day prior.

He had seen war and famine and sickness, but never like this. Arthur wasn't young, in any sense, and what wonders and strong political oppinions young men had, had left him a long time ago like a ship leaving the harbour in a hury to claim new land. This though, had left shock echoing within his tired, millenia old frame. He wasn't used to this.

Arthur made his way through the trenches with soldiers from every corner of the globe instantly stopping whatever they were doing prior and saluting him as if etiquette and rank mattered in hell. As if it was more importaint to greet the Higher ups than to survive long enough to even write a letter back to family. Arthur did understand that though. Routine and rules were the only thing keeping these poor and wretched souls from being consumed by thoughts of an imminent death.

The path to the section where Matthew was held was quite straightforward and quite familiar. He had marched to and from it hundreds of times and had a sort of automatic rithm in his step. Arthur made his way to the small and damp room with a fast pace indicative of familiarity, only to stop in his tracks in the shabbily built doorframe at the sight that awaited him in the corner.

Matthew sat in the corner of the sad makeshift medical section of the trenches, his back firm against the cold, damp wall.

His once-piercing blue-grey eyes were now clouded over with milky white cataracts, rendering him completely blind. The newly used gas had stolen his sight. His skin, once tanned and healthy, now bore the sickly pallor of a much older man who had endured unimaginable suffering.

Matthew's uniform, discarded in favour of his worn down undershirt, was now a tattered and stained relic of his time in the trenches. The not-white-anymore shirt clung to his emaciated frame as if decency still mattered in hell. The physical toll of the war was clear on his body. Not that Matthew would have to worry about seeing that any time soon. His hands, which had once held a rifle with resolve, now trembled even while resting on his thighs.

Despite his physical and emotional anguish, Matthew remained seated upright, his back pressed against the unforgiving, stained wall. A testament to his resilience if there was any left, a silent protest against the horrors that had taken his sight and left him broken in body and spirit.

As he sat there, his spirit reduced to a hollow shell, Matthew's face bore a mixed expression of utter defeat and complete indifference. His lips were drawn into a thin, lifeless line, and his cheeks were gaunt from the weight of his suffering. His blank, unseeing eyes stared into the abyss, as if waiting for answers and also hoping they'd never arrive.

In that moment, Matthew was not a representation of Canada; he was a young man who had been scarred and broken by the senseless brutality of war. The trenches around him buzzed with activity, but he remained isolated in his silent world of darkness and despair. The young medics job was done. He had patched Matthew up and left him to his own misery. Matthew was grateful.

Arthur stood there silently under the doorframe for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few seconds. A strange and unfamiliar twinge of emotion plucked and pulled on his conscience. He hadn't felt guilt in quite some time. This feeling was reserved for drunken nights spent in solitude with the doors to the room he resided in firmly locked so that his sliver of self-deprecating emotion wasn't witnessed by any but himself, while he drunk himself to unconsciousness.

He preferred the emotional solitude to this.

Arthur had believed himself to be capable of most things. Especially conversation and confrontation. He was quite good at those as centuries of existence had proved. He believed himself quite skilful with words. Most of the time he knew what to say and when to say it without it resulting in unwanted and unforeseen consequences, while still making sure his opinion was heard.

Arthur had no words forming as he stood in that doorframe. If Arthur was a good man, his reasoning would be that he felt such strong empathy and sadness that words wouldn't be enough to express the sorrow he felt at that moment. If Arthur was a good man he'd run to his son, assure him that this wouldn't happen ever again and that he was safe. If Arthur was a good man he would fall on his knees in front of his oldest son and beg for forgiveness.

Arthur wasn't a good man.

He could admit to his shortcomings, but to act on them was not in his nature.

So he stood there for another 5 or 6 minutes watching his son shallowly breathe in and out, hearing the boys lungs struggle to keep up with his muscles contraction and need for air.

He must have made a noise, as Matthew's head tilted slightly to the left, almost looking at Arthur but definitely not seeing him. Arthur looked back at him.

The room was quiet, save for the desperate plea of Matthews lungs to be put out of their misery.

Sensing nothing after a few moments, Matthew turned his head back towards the blank wall ahead.

Arthur silently turned his frame around and slowly started walking the path he had taken to get here. As he took a few steps, he released the breath he didn't know he was holding.

How he longed for that whiskey bottle and that dark room where he could lock himself in and slowly drift out of consciousness instead of facing his own mistakes.

Arthur definitely was not a good man.

[littlefankingdom]

Justice League meets the Batfam, but they already knew about them because of Batman ranting about his kids.

In the comics, Batman has implemented that Nightwing should be in charge of the Justice League if something happened to him BEFORE he had adopted Dick (so, when his only legal son was Jason). When Dick is called to help, he learns that people think he's Batman's son because of how Batman speaks about him, and how he is proud of nothing in his life but the man Nightwing has become.

So, let's imagine the batfam thinking they are so secretive and mysterious, and "B, it's time for you to trust your friends and colleagues more", and going to the JL to officially present the Batfam, only for them to cut them and be "You're Batman's kids, everyone knows that. He doesn't shut up about you."

Bruce doesn’t realize he does it, btw. He didn’t clearly stated that they are his kids, that he is their dad, he just starts to talk about them and how proud he is, and how competent they are, and how much he cares about them, when the discussion seems appropriate to do so. But for the rest of the JL, Batman talks about three things: the mission, his kids, and his interests if you are close and it's useful rn (him starting to rant about dinosaurs to Hal when they face dinosaurs is cute). They probably tell new recruits "Batman may seem scary, but he is really just a protective dad. Soon enough, you will hear about his kids".

[topnotchquark]

Nico saying that Lewis gives his daughters boxes of presents every Christmas just got caught in my mind.

Imagine you were a mixed race boy born in Hertfordshire, different from everyone else around you. Bullied in school, being raised by your father to compete in a sport where money is very much of essence and you and your family do not have a lot of it. And then you meet this other boy who comes from the kind of life you dream to live one day. You're friends and fierce competitors. You find solace in each other. You visit Monaco for the first time with your friend, dreaming up the life you will have when you make it, when you beat out of the mould that the world thought it could capture you in.

And then you two grow through the ranks and you're at the pinnacle of your sport and you have what it takes to win and the world recognises that you can win. And you win. You win with your friend and fiercest competitor by your side fighting with you for those wins, and this fighting ruins something something that was valuable to both of you when you were still innocent and unsullied by life.

But despite everything that went into the doing and undoing of this relationship, you still realise that this person you once called a friend has a life and family beyond your bitter dynamic. He has children, and children need love and affection and good memories. And you're a better man now so you understand that. So you make sure the kids get gifts on Christmas. And you make sure of it every year. Afterall, if you met someone you loved deeply when you were both kids, wouldn't you feel a pang of nostalgia when they had kids. Wouldn't you try to extend the warmth that you couldn't find for your friend to his children. Afterall, whatever happens during childhood basically remains with you forever.

[bixels]

I'm not getting into The Giving Tree discourse...

[tea-cat-arts]

You know what, I've read enough fanfic. I'm confiscating Madame Yu from you guys

Free my girl- she did the things she's being accused of, but not as frequently or severely as the fandom pretends, her actions are being taken out of context, and her depth is being reduced to that of a Colleen Hoover antagonist

[nobleriver]

Michonne talks to Rick about their son

[fyllophobia]

think fast! surprise trust fall

[gurggggleburgle]

the reason why Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan can't attic wife each other in their house and never leave is that they don't have internet or anything else around to help keep them moving. I think we chalk too much of Shen Qingqiu being a super productive person post transmigration often too much to reading into things and treating his unreliable narration as fact.

But like, what is he supposed to do all if not actually go outside and talk to people and get a job. Luo Binghe needs to do things other than be a housewife for his own sanity so he doesn't cabin fever. He can't live focusing his day around a singular person being in the room its not healthy and would drive him insane. These are not overly productive constantly doing things people. These are people doing things to make sure they aren't malaise slugs feeling nothing in their day to day drudgery.

This is just what a healthy post/pre internet mental state kinda looks like.

[ghost-bxrd]

((I caved and maybe-kinda-sorta started a liiiiittle bit on Jujutsu Kaisen and—- wtf do you mean a fifteen year old is totally a-okay with being executed eventually because it serves the greater good????? And everybody is just like “cool,” like it’s totally normal????? WTF??? Like, sir, ARE YOU AWARE YOU ARE LITERAL SUNSHINE INCARNATE———))

[13x02]

throwaway lines in supernatural implying the saddest shit like dean going out and hiding easter eggs at a shitty roadside motel and telling sam that the easter bunny visited up until sam was eleven and a half and naturally stopped believing in it.