#neither of them is fully right! neither of them is fully wrong! it's very complicated and turbulent!

[bullagit]

no take colder than any along the lines of "aziraphale needs to learn his lesson about going along with heaven and stand up to them" tbh

like even putting aside the gross shit that implies someone thinks about people stuck in toxic relationship dynamics (whether romantic, platonic, or familial) and the unfortunate cycles that can include, even putting aside the potential that his hand was possibly forced in some way in the final 15, it's so.

like where was your attention when he spent so much of s1 actively trying to stop heaven's plans through every possible avenue even when pursuing that got him threatened, seemingly cost him his friendship, and did temporarily cost him his physical body/earthly home/future??? when he literally stood in heaven and said he refused to take part in any war, went back down to earth, and headed for tadfield? rules lawyered directly to an archangel's face about the great plan vs ineffable plan??????

even when crowley was saying this is a lost cause and we should run away together? when satan was incoming and aziraphale stood there and said firm as anything we can't give up now? aziraphale who lied to save job's children even when he actively thought that doing so would make him Fall???? that aziraphale needs to learn a lesson???

nah

#good omens #aziraphale #ngl sometimes it feels like people just projecting themselves onto crowley and someone who Hurt Them onto aziraphale or st #it gets out of hand #why do we strip this character of his nuance and trauma and actual canon flaws and say he needs to suffer and repent #like. this is what he does this is what they do crowley can't stay and aziraphale can't run it's part of what makes them fascinating #neither of them is fully right! neither of them is fully wrong! it's very complicated and turbulent!

[regular-gnome]

I love the new comic so much! Not only is it breathtaking on its own, but it adds delicious moral complexity to the collection incomplete verse. The Archivists eliminating all the titans is still very much not a good thing, but now we can see that the titans were far from paragons of virtue. Subjugating and extracting tribute from the populace. The titans may have considered themselves benevolent overlords, but overlords all the same.

Just this one comic gives a window into why the locals might have been down with joining the Archivists hunting the titans down. Conflict is so much more interesting when neither side is fully right or wrong and I'm thrilled to see this will be so much more complicated than "Archivists bad, Titans good,".

super happy you enjoyed it:P it took aaaa while to finish

But yeah, something I found interesting is that with creatures like Titans living among witches, there is a clear power imbalance between them, something that has many ways to go about. Especially considering how differently they are perceived by two groups of witches. On the Boiling Isles, they were seen as a source of all that's good amazing kind creatures of immense power, while Titan Trappers talked about them more like monsters. I like the idea there were societies or cults built around differnt titans, and the differences between how everyone interacted were more based on the personalities of those involved - leading to diffrent views on titans by the groups. And I know a cult focused on killing titans isn't going to be a source of reliable information on the titans. This is more about how they might have been perceived to make space for a third party to convince a group that murder isn't such a bad idea (it is, please don't)

Another thing is that all characters are people, not in the "humans" sense but there arent really levels of sentience. All characters have their own minds, whether they are titans, archivists, witches, etc. It's just different circumstances and abilities, and if the stakes were smaller and everyone was forced to sit down and reflect on what they were doing, it might have ended up much less deadly

The screens are from King's tales of his past that were very much kids imagination, but I like the idea that somewhere in Kings nursery those depitons were drawn showing a diffrent titan and it fueled his story. Debatable if it was an accurate and not a demonised depition though

#any time I think about how the titans foodchain worked I think of Livyatans and thats leaves some fun implications #If any side side in Collection Incomplate made a reddit AITA about their situation theyd probably get ESH #except for the kids #they just found themselves in a very bad place #ask #the owl house #owl house #toh #toh archivists #titan trappers #toh titans #toh titan trappers #collection incomplete au

[crookedfandomquill]

Alright, folks, I rewatched the Bo’re Life arc this week, and I have thoughts and a newfound appreciation for it (what? Me? Liking the Bo’re arc?It’s more likely than you’d think). As my mom used to say at the start of road trips or our semi-annual family viewing of The Sound of Music: buckle up, chitlins. 

Okay, first off: this arc is a lot easier and more interesting to watch the second time around. I suspect that’s because I’m not chomping at the bit to just get back to Tantai Jin and Susu in the real world, since I already know what happens. This time, I can settle in and appreciate Bo’re Life without the urgency of “when is the actual story going to come back, fuck you writers”. It’s also very fun for me to draw parallels and find foreshadowing I didn’t notice before. And, having done so, I present the following thesis: the Bo’re Life arc strengthened the overall story both as a tragedy, and as a “happy” ending.

Addendum: I have a lot of thoughts about what constitutes a happy ending, and my thoughts on TTEOTM in this regard are complicated. Essentially, I would argue that the ending, while certainly sad, isn’t a “tragedy” in the narrative sense. While the individual happiness of the characters takes a real blow in the end, they do accomplish their ultimate goal. It’s a pyrrhic victory, but a victory nonetheless, and it’s implied that they will get a much happier ending as individuals sometime in the future. That doesn’t mean it was as satisfying as it could have been (it seems clear that TTJ will come back but I'm pissed we didn't get to see it), and I know a lot of viewers will totally disagree with my opinion. But I digress! Let’s get into Bo’re Life.

Bo’re Life threw a LOT of information at both protagonists, and the roles they played in it didn’t correspond neatly with their own destinies, which kind of baffled me the first time around. Ming Ye represented both what Tantai Jin could aspire to be, and the mistakes Susu needed to avoid in neutralizing him. Sang Jiu represented both Susu’s traumas and doomed loveline, and Tantai Jin’s fate if Susu failed as Ming Ye had.

The parallels between Bo’re life and real life perfectly underline the tragedy of the story: both protagonists are shown beforehand the choices they must not make, but because of who they are, they make them anyway.

Susu was an idealistic and traumatized woman with a mission, so she was always going to fail like Ming Ye did by putting the greater good ahead of love and communication. Tantai Jin was a disempowered and naive man falling in love for the first time, so he was always going to be just like Sang Jiu and give his fragile heart too fully, then shatter under the weight of betrayal. Bo’re Life both foretold the tragedy, and failed to prevent it. 

It could be argued that Tantai Jin and Susu played the wrong roles in Bo’re Life to avoid tragedy in the Jing arc, but they played the right roles to avoid it in the cultivator arc. In the mortal world, Susu needed Ming Ye’s experience of losing everything because he neglected his heart. And Tantai Jin needed Sang Jiu’s experience of subsuming herself in another person so recklessly that she lost her soul to it. Neither of them got that, and so they repeated the tragedy of 10,000 years ago: Susu by loving and then betraying Tantai Jin, and Tantai Jin by allowing his obsessive love to run unchecked.

But as cultivators, 500 years later, they both ended up relying on the virtues of the roles they played in Bo’re Life. Susu channeled Sang Jiu’s optimistic love and staunch loyalty to repair her relationship with Tantai Jin and become someone he could genuinely rely on. And Tantai Jin needed Ming Ye’s sacrificial love and dedication to the greater good to understand and execute his subversion of destiny.

This time around, they were both where they needed to be, playing the roles fate assigned them… but drastically changing the lines. Susu became a goddess, just like her mother, the only being who could defeat the Devil Lord. And Tantai Jin became the Devil Lord, just as he was born to do. But there was no battle between them, no great war like 10,000 years ago. Just like during their dance at the Jing water festival, Tantai Jin played his part, then surrendered.

And, just as she removed his mask 500 years ago, Susu saw through his act to who he really was, who he’d always been.

They redeemed the very mistakes they made at the end of their story in Jing: Susu, who couldn’t trust him and destroyed him as a result, finally gave him her trust, even as he wore the image of her greatest fears. And Tantai Jin, who was so desperate for her love that he killed her trying to keep her, finally let her go to save the world. 

The Jing arc ended with both of them as the worst versions of themselves: Susu vengeful and traumatized, Tantai Jin obsessive and broken. As she died, Susu threw Tantai Jin’s destiny in his face, calling him the greatest curse and rejecting him in this life and the next. In his last days in Jing, Tantai Jin devolved into despair and denial, unable to cope with the grief and betrayal. They didn't learn the correct lessons in Bo're life, not this time around.

By contrast, the cultivator arc ended with both of them as the best versions of themselves: Susu capable of trust and forgiveness and elevated to godhood, Tantai Jin whole and loved and able to overturn his evil destiny. They learned, not just from their own mistakes, but from those of Ming Ye and Sang Jiu. And it helped them win.

#till the end of the moon #tteom #tantai jin #ye xiwu #cdrama #luo yunxi #bai lu

[doraambrose]

What do you think about Jason's relationship (platonic!!! Father and son stuff. Still can't believe this ship exists. ) with Bruce? Should they even interact at all if DC only makes Bruce abusive and cruel towards him? Or do you ignore whatever is on those pages like it was always meant to be and like a lot of the fandom does?

(Personally, Bruce shouldn't be the best dad but he should never have raised his hand against his kids, unless during sparring and fighting off mindcontrol. The only exception I would make is shortly after Jason died and Bruce, out of his mind with grief, hit Dick who had kind of tried to comfort him. But everything else? Laughably out of character.)

Hello! Thanks for the ask friend!

Bruce and Jason's relationship is vastly complicated, but I personally don't think they should be on the best terms.

Bruce is very similar to Jason in that he's been written either okay or horrible by dc writers, but actual good characterization in the last like 10-15 years is pretty rare.

In terms of characterization of Bruce, I'm not as well-versed as I am with Jason, but I have a pretty good idea of how he should be. Bruce is heavily flawed. He has some significant childhood trauma that never got truly dealt with,leading to the creation of the batman. I also sense he has bpd or at least bipolar or something like that, as well as a superiority complex. He's also very stubborn and set in his ways and his instinct is that he's always right and everyone should do what he says. He's controlling and a hypocrite. But he has the best of intentions. He wants to keep everyone safe, he loves his kids and he just wants to protect people, but it has to be his way. I fully believe that Bruce never actually intends to hurt his family, but mental illness mixed with a need for control and a lack of socialization can lead to hurtful actions. In gotham war, Bruce truly believes that what he did to Jason was what was best for him, despite how crazy and abusive it actually was. After Damian died, he loved and grieved so much but didn't know how to handle it. He couldn't live without him so he did everything possible to bring him back, hurting his other kids in the process, but he didn't think he was seriously hurting his kids.

Jason is also very stubborn and a hypocrite. He has some substantial childhood trauma that also didnt get proper attention. he's not as hot-headed as certain characterizations of him like to say, but he is a VERY emotional and emotion-driven person. He thinks with his heart more than his head at times. He has very strong opinions and beliefs. He also loves his family and wants to protect people, mainly children and women, and he also believes that his way is the right way.

Bruce and Jason both think the other is wrong and neither want to compromise. And Bruce has done so much to Jason. And jason doesn't understand Bruce's pov because neither of them can actually communicate with each other in a healthy way and neither of them have healthy ways of executing their beliefs and morals, their actions don't always do their intentions justice.

So I think their relationship is strained. They're too similar and too different at the same time. They both have too many problems and don't take good care of their mental health, leading to some really unhealthy Coping mechanisms. But I do agree that some of things Bruce and jason have done have been super out of character and totally could be erased lol

Thanks for the ask friend!

#jason todd #batfam #batman #red hood #dc comics #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #dc universe #dcu

[starlightswordfight]

olimar louie headcanon time cracks knuckles

once again going under the keep reading tab because I NEVER stop talking

– okay first off I don't think EITHER of them are working at hocotate freight because they want to. it is VERY clear that neither of them actually care as much about the job as they do their other interests/passions, which leads me to believe that they are quite literally only still there to make ends meet or out of contract obligation. if they could leave they would. something is wrong

– not a hc but I need them to discover what unions are right now. if that doesn't work murder is also acceptable

– i think if olimar thought about it for two seconds he'd use he/they or any pronouns but he has never stopped to consider it since he genuinely does not have any time

– olimar also would have been happier as a biologist maybe. and that was the initial plan! started working at different positions first when he was younger (like hocotate freight) (big mistake) so he could get used to working before moving on to pursue his passions, and ended up just ... never leaving. "i'll just stay one more year" that's the devil talking

– learned sign language (either interstellar or a hocotate specific language/dialect) exclusively for louie. it's surprisingly also observed in the pikmin at times now!! even if they Butcher It with their Tiny Pitiful Hands. they're trying

– his trypophobia just kind of happened. there's no lore centric reason for it being there, it just freaks him out and always has

– will have to avoid things that seem completely unrelated, the worst example being literal condensation sometimes? sees the water droplets line up Not Right and INSTANTLY dies

– stims often, and it's nearly always vocal. a lot of it is talking to himself, or humming!! tries not to Interrupt the pikmin songs but sometimes does, without noticing until they stop and stare at him comically. let the man LIVE

– louie is semi verbal. sign and writing are far, FAR easier for him to communicate with. he does not like talking unless he fucking has to and even then sometimes he can't

– louie would've loved to have gone into the culinary field, and actually started attending school for it! but the environment was incredibly unaccommodating. stressful enough that he didn't feel he had a choice outside of dropping out. tried just starting work right away instead and, turns out, entry level positions in food service are also absolutely awful on hocotate!! fuck!!

– so he's working at a freight company instead. he is rightfully bitter about it

– he didn't actually ever know his parents! he was fully raised by his grandmother. their relationship is .. Mildly Complicated

– okay related to all of the above I think he's so hungry all the time because of stress. that or there may be an underlying medical reason but I am NOT equipped to write or speculate on that

– louie, too, makes art because murder is wrong

#pikmin #pikmin headcanons #captain olimar #olimar pikmin #louie pikmin #my angels. my darlings. okay hang on im taking a tangent i almost went on to these tags feel free to ignore this but #do you guys know how fucking difficult night missions are w trypophobia #im fine when the lumiknoll is GREEN but when the glow sap gets drained at the end of the night etc i have to either squint or turn around #or else i begin to die #i projected the condensation thing bc i nearly threw a lid once seeing it #I've NEVER seen a character get clearly anxious over similar things before and it made me feel less insane

[frownyalfred]

Honestly, i feel like damian just wanted his mom... like a "mama can fix this" and "im hurting and mama is always good at making it better."

I mean we KNOW Damian wasn't doing this maliciously. It just rlly seems like he wanted to see his mom here more than anything else. Maybe im wrong, but thats how ive interpreted it.

I think for most children, even when parents are less than ideal, they are still authority figures who can fix things, and have demonstrated that they can in the past.

For me, Damian was equating Talia with a solution/fixing things in his mind. He’s only ever seen the Lazarus Pit used that way, and I’m sure Talia is formidable and effective when making decisions, as a mother and as her other roles.

I don’t think most people would fault Damian, a young child, for wanting to fix the problem he’s in — one that’s legitimately causing him and others pain and is forcing him to be vulnerable. But we as the audience know all of the reasons why his “solution” would be very, very bad.

So Tim might not be sympathetic to Damian’s reasoning, but that can actually make Tim more sympathetic to us initially since we see him stop the potential solution before it can harm the bond.

But if we look at it a second time, or maybe from Bruce’s perspective, we see that there are no right answers or fully wrong parties here. Damian is just a kid and Tim did prevent potential harm, but it’s a lot lot more complicated than that.

(and, as I tried to hint at in the chapter, neither of them feel good about what happened or what they did)

#anon #asks #borderline #this is not in any way excusing or making light of abusive parenting #just saying that #Talia can be abusive or complicated to Damian l #and he can still equate her with fixing things for him and helping him #bruce wayne #batman #dc #myfic #theresurrectionist #batfamily #Damian Wayne #talia al ghul

[polyamzeal]

Hi there! I've been in a mono relationship with a person for over five years and the last three years we have kinda been more open (kissed most of our friends at parties and did more sexual stuff too but only together as a couple). I've always been polyamorous and I've told my partner that on the first date. However I very rarely experience actual romantic feelings so it took me five years to fall for another person. This person is our mutual friend (mostly my partner's friend) but it feels like they feel something for me too.

Now I told my partner as soon as I realised it (about several months ago) and they told me that they actually have feelings for another person too and they think they might be polyamorous! Great right? Wrong :( they feel a lot of jealousy because of their insecurities and they think I might leave them for this person even though I try my best to reassure them that this is not going to happen and I love them. That other person is leaving for another country in about a month to live there and it feels like my time is running out because I want to confess to them and figure this whole thing out before they are potentially gone forever. But I don't want to upset my partner because I don't wanna hurt their feelings and I don't want to make everything even more complicated if they are not 100% onboard with me confessing. I really don't know what to do. I think at this point it's not just a crush; I love them both and it's tearing me apart to lose that other person before finding out if I even have a chance to be with them both.

Do you maybe have any advice? :(

I would say after talking it over with your partner a little bit more that you should confess. I think you will regret it if you don't and I think the friend would like the confirmation. Here is the important thing though that is easy to forget: Acknowledging feelings is NOT the same as making a commitment. It is perfectly fine to tell this friend that you love them but due to all the circumstances going on that neither of you need to act on them. You can just clear the air and get it out there. Not that much actually needs to change about your relationship with this friend or your partner. If your partner is feeling insecure and doesn't want to be fully open yet then let your partner know that you want to tell the friend your feelings but also clarify to them that this isn't an invite to start dating or have sex. Maybe in the future that possibility can line up better for everybody but the time isn't right now. I think keeping the feeling hidden though because nothing will really change anyways would just end up hurting. I think it is important that you and this friend acknowledge that you can be more than friends but not committed partners. There is a wide spectrum between the two.

I have a lot of other posts about how to deal with your boyfriend's insecurities and other resources online can deal with that. But hopefully in time he can start to feel more secure in his relationship with you and your connections to other people.

#polyamzeal answers #anon ask #polyamory #polyam #nonmonogamy

[theheirofthesharingan]

Hey!!

Can you explain the part where Itachi says he is proud to be a Leaf Shinobi. I mean, why did he say that? All that the Leaf caused him was pain and suffering. The part where he says he had no regrets also seemed out of character.

Also, can you explore more on his relationship with the Leaf?

Itachi's relationship with the Leaf is quite complicated and can't be seen in complete black and white — that is, it's not entirely he either fully loves this place or fully hates it. He isn't an extremist in his ideology and doesn't let his emotions drive him. To him, it's always what's the most reasonable thing to do keeping the bigger picture in mind. And Itachi isn't the one to hate the village because it caused him pain, because he doesn't see himself as a victim here. To him, he was as bad as the system for not being able to come up with a better plan and being their accomplice. Sasuke could see Itachi was a victim but Itachi would need more convincing to realize he was wronged as well. Itachi requests Naruto to not clear his name for this very reason.

Itachi might love the village because as a concept Konoha is exactly what his ideals align with. A place where kids live longer and wars don't happen. That's what Hashirama had dreamt of. Still, his 'love' for the village has one condition - Sasuke. He can protect the village but his condition and priority will always be his brother. Obito informed Sasuke that Itachi had threatened Danzo and the Elders that if they harmed him, Itachi would leak all the info to the enemy nations. One might argue that Obito was manipulating Sasuke showing Itachi as a better guy than he actually was. But in truth, Itachi did show up in the village after Hiruzen's death. If he only wanted to know about Sasuke's well-being he had hundreds of other ways to know that, but he came to the village, warned Danzo, that if Sasuke was harmed, he himself would burn down the village to its ashes — system and people and all. Hiruzen also told Sasuke that Itachi had agreed to spy on the Akatsuki only on the condition that Sasuke would be kept safe. It meant that Itachi didn't care about the village as much as he did about his brother. To me, neither of this makes it look like he was really proud of Konoha.

Although, I also feel that while writing all the 'good guys' Kishi made them pro-Konoha as well as the admirers of Naruto whether it fit their characterization or not. It's almost mandatory that you love the main character and the place he calls his home to be a good guy in the series. I can't remember a good guy who wasn't also impressed with Naruto and was pro-Konoha. All the redeemed villains, like Nagato, Konan, and Gaara, do this too. Nagato, after fighting his whole life against the system, becomes an admirer of Naruto and eventually brings back the people he killed to life. Gaara also becomes Naruto's friend and then an ally of the village. Sasuke, after being "saved" also does this. Then Itachi isn't much different, is he?

Though, personally, I won't let that one particular line decide his whole character because the dominating side of Itachi's characterization is his love for Sasuke, whom he chose over the village, and would have destroyed Konoha had he been hurt. It's the same with the other instance you mentioned. Itachi saying 'I have no other regrets' doesn't make much sense, because when he met Sasuke in the woods, what he first expressed was regret ('I filled you with only hatred and that's why I failed'). When they fought against Kabuto, Itachi's body language, his gestures, and even him saying 'I know I have no right to advise you' were all filled with guilt and regrets. Then, in the end before he died, his words were bleeding with regret only. So, that particular phrase is oddly placed and doesn't make sense when Itachi says this, especially when he was more honest with Sasuke at this point. :/ It's definitely very much ooc.

#ask #anon #itachi

[rebelsandtherest]

Eldest

Rating: PG (some language)

Words: 9521

Characters: Matthew (Canada), Jack (Australia), Zee (New Zealand), Alfred (USA)

Summary: Matthew is having a hard time after an unexpected and costly springtime blizzard. His younger siblings aren't sure how to get through to him, so they call in the cavalry.

Warnings: Mentions of depression

Read on Ao3 if you like

---------

Jack and his sister Zee were, by an appreciable margin, the youngest members of the complicated family tree that orbited Arthur Kirkland. However, since they’d reached adulthood (in body if not in spirit) this hadn’t been a common point of interest for well over a century. Sat alongside their elder brother Matthew across the table from a gaggle of Celts and Saxons who could exchange stories of Roman emperors as though they’d bumped into them at the local Tescos last week, the age difference between the three former colonies melted away to the point they could at times act like an odd set of triplets. 

However, when you got right down to it, both Jack and Zee would always regard Matt as the elder brother. Zee and Jack flip-flopped on who fulfilled the older role between the two of them (a mantle most often shouldered by Zee, notwithstanding that she was in reality younger than Jack), but once Matthew Williams stepped in the room, the hierarchy of siblings rearranged itself to affectionately accommodate the Eldest Brother. 

Matthew had practically raised both Jack and Zee when they were very small. He’d been a young but fully grown man when Zee was still learning her letters, when dear old Arthur couldn’t make head or tails of what Jack was trying to tell him through his riptide of an accent—then whistled by missing teeth—until Matthew had to translate that there was a tarantula and on the back of Arthur’s shirt. It had been Matt who taught Jack to shoot a rifle, Matt who taught Zee how to ski when snow clung her mountain ranges in the July winter. It was Matt who’d scolded them to hell and back when they attacked each other, Matt who’d made them apologize and part as friends. Matt who told them bedtime stories, Matt who bandaged their cuts and bound their sprains and blew raspberries in their baby-fat cheeks until they laughed again. Always Matt who took the brunt, who shouldered the family burdens, who shielded his younger siblings from whatever maelstroms the empire had brewing a hemisphere away. 

Even now, centuries later, with all of them grown, independent members of the commonwealth, the unspoken order of the universe still dictated that it was Matt who did the parenting, and Jack and Zee who were parented. 

Therefore, when Matt decided to stop acting like a responsible adult, the universe glitched, and neither Jack nor Zee knew the cheat codes that would set reality back to rights.

It had all started two days ago, when Jack’s flight from Vancouver to Sydney was canceled due to weather. It was hardly unheard of—it’d happened to him once or twice before, albeit never so late in the year. He’d planned his ski trip to the Canadian Rockies in order to escape the still-boiling autumn of his capital. He’d told Matt he would be northside, of course, but when the Canadian hadn’t texted back, he’d shrugged shoulders and assumed Matt was busy. Matt was often busy, and Jack respected that.

But when a freak blizzard swept eastwards across North America and Jack’s flight home was delayed not once, but twice, the Australian decided to cut his losses, postpone his return entirely, and trek over to Ottawa to drop in on his Canadian brother—who he hadn’t seen outside of European boardrooms in many years—for a surprise visit.

This had been, in retrospect, the wrong decision. Or the right decision. In the end, Jack hoped it was the right decision for Matthew, but it was most certainly the wrong decision for him. His prime minister had left eight voicemails so far asking why it was taking him so long to return to Canberra, and Jack didn’t know how to explain that he’d been waylaid by discovering the national embodiment of Canada buried in a Depression Cave of his own making, and how he couldn’t, in good conscience, leave him there unattended. 

“What the fuck do we do now?” Jack asked, spying around the edge of the door frame for a last glance at the dragon’s lair before retreating back to safety and the troubled countenance of his little sister.

“Hell if I know,” The New Zealander said softly, not hiding as she looked into Matt’s desecrated bedroom with lines of concern framing her features. “You said he’s been like this for… when did you get here?”

“Three days ago.”

“Jesus christ.”

“Yeah. I’ve been sleeping on the futon, eating his food and ordering delivery the whole time.”

“And he didn’t notice?” Zee sounded skeptical. Jack spread his hands in a helpless gesture. 

“If he didn’t he didn’t stop me! He’s not said a fuckin’ word to me ‘cept when I try to get him out of bed.”

“What’d he say then?”

“Jesus, I dunno, something in French, I stepped in the room to hear him better and he threatened to turn me into a headline.”

“Matt said that?” Zee asked, looking infuriatingly like Arthur.

“Bugger me sideways, woman, the fuck else you want me to say?” Zee glared at him, but for once, Jack held his ground. His sister turned her eyes back to Matt’s darkened bedroom, and she sighed.

“Shit,” she said. At that moment, Buddy, Matt’s great fluffy samoyed dog, chose to amble out of the corner of Matt’s bedroom and towards the back door, where he pawed to be let out. Looking unsurprised, Jack went over to open the door.

“Is he allowed to-” Zee pointed a finger from the house to the door.

“Hell if I know,” Jack shrugged, watching Buddy march out the door at a sluggish pace and careful not to catch his long white fur as he slid the door shut. “Not like Matt’s going to tell me. He hasn’t eaten the neighbors kids yet, so,” he shrugged. Zee sighed and went to join Jack by the door, now far enough away from Matt’s room that the white noise of the Canadian’s space heater was replaced by deafening silence. She worried her hand across her mouth and chin not unlike Arthur would, brow tense and creased in the middle.

“This is bad,” she said. Jack nearly smacked his own forehead out of frustration.

“No shit, Sherlock!”

“What do you want me to say?!” Zee hissed, turning to glare at him.

“I don’t know,” Jack hissed back. “But surely you can think of… something, right?”

“Why me?! Do you honestly think I have any better idea of what to do than you do?”

“You always have a better idea of what to do,” Jack insisted. Zee scoffed.

“When it’s a question of “should I pick up this poisonous sea slug-”

“That’s not fair, I didn’t know you had poisonous sea slugs-”

“-of course I have a better idea, but this? What am I supposed to do?” She gestured around them, “why the hell did you even call me?” Seeing her point but unwilling to concede, Jack crossed his arms petulantly.

“If you’re that upset about it, why’d you even come?”

“Because you said you needed help, you bunghole! I thought you’d broken your knees or lost your passport or something! You didn’t say that Matt needed help.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know what to say!”

“Jesus, Jackie, ‘Matt needs help’, three bloody words, would that have been so hard?”

“Well who would you’ve called? Arthur? It’d be a fuckin’ week before he’d have time to fly out here.”

“Of course not, idiot, I would’ve called…” Zee’s voice suddenly trailed off as a thought occurred to her. She flicked her eyes up to Jack, who caught on after a moment of confusion. Frustration gave way to hesitant hope.

“Is he even at home?”

“I mean, probably?”

“Don’t you think he would’ve known about this in the first place?”

“You didn’t.”

“Well no, but it’s not like I live next door.” Jack glanced back at Matt’s room, back at his sister. 

“He’d come, wouldn’t he?” She asked him.

“It’s Matt,” he said.

“Right. You have his number?”

“Well yeah, but…” Jack looked sheepish, “I kinda… racked up a hefty bill texting you, I was kinda hoping—”

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” she pulled out her phone. Buddy scratched at the door, and Jack went over to let him in and clean his snow-wet paws while Zee scrolled her contacts and put the phone to her ear. It only rang for a handful of seconds.

“Hey Kiwi, what’s up? And why the hell are you up at 5am? Isn’t it a Saturday there?”

Zee heaved a relieved sigh, “In Wellington sure, but I’m in Ottawa.”

“What! You’re up north and you didn’t tell me?! I'm hurt!” Zee opened her mouth to speak, but didn’t get the chance. “Also you chose a helluva week to be there, it usually doesn’t blizzard this late in the year.”

“Uhuh I know, but that’s not why I’m—”

“Have you spoken to Matt? I’ve been trying to get a hold of him for days. I thought he was going to be down by Niagara last week and I thought about going up there but he never texted me back—”

“Yeah that’s why I was calling y—”

“I figured he was busy, but if he’s been hosting you in Ottawa—”

“Damnit, Yankee, just shut up a minute!” Zee shouted.

“Oh. Sorry, Zee.” And damn him, his kicked puppy drawl almost made her feel guilty. She took a steadying breath. 

“What’s with the accent, anyway?”

“Oh sorry, I’m in San Antonio. The good taco stalls don’t serve blond gringos the spicy shit unless they sound local.”

Zee rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Whatever. San Antonio. That’s… what, a seven hour flight to Canada? Six?”

“I mean, if you’re talking commercial, it’s somewhere ‘round there. Why?”

“We may need your help here in Ottawa.”

“We?”

“Jack and I—”

“What! You’re telling me you and Oz have both been a hop and a skip from the States and no one told me?”

“We didn’t plan it, it’s… listen, Matt needs help and we don’t know what to do.” The line went quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his tone was jarringly serious.

“Help how? What happened?” Zee’s shoulders relaxed. Alfred Jones was obnoxious at the best of times, but when he decided to be competent, she knew he could handle just about anything. 

“The last week happened. It’s been a helluva time, like you said. He won’t come out of his room, won’t eat, threatened to turn Jack into a hashtag, apparently.”

“Headline,” Jack corrected. Zee made a face and waved her hand dismissively at him.

“Aaaah fuck,” Alfred said, “Got that double depresso espresso huh. How bad is it?”

“What do you mean, ‘how bad is it’?”

“I mean like what level of depression cave are we talking? How many half-smoked doobs are on his bedside table?”

“What does that- I don’t know!”

“Does he have any empty wine bottles in there, or just cigarettes?”

“He won’t even let us in the door, Alfred, I don’t know how to—”

“Right, right, okay, how’s the smell?”

“Of his room?”

“Yeah.” Zee took a sniff; even from a distance the half-open doorway offered whiffs of odor.

“Kinda like a sweaty ashtray got fucked by a skunk,” she told him.

“Ah, hell, it’s bad, then. Jeez, I wouldn’t’ve thought a blizzard would’ve taken him out like that. Something else must’ve made it worse. Ugh, and I just got here, too…” The American heaved a sigh. Zee held her breath. “Alright, I reckon I can be there in three or four hours in the Cessna.” Relieved she hadn’t had to ask, Zee’s shoulders relaxed.

“You’ll come up, then?” Jack looked up when he heard this, watching Zee’s expression carefully.

“Yeah, ‘course.” Zee gave Jack a thumbs up, and the Australian pumped his fist in relieved joy. “I gotta make a few pit stops first though… hey, I’m gonna pick up some barbecue, you or Jack want any?”

“Jack, you want any barbecue?” She asked. Her brother perked up.

“What kind?”

“Texas.”

“Fucken yeah I do.” Zee relayed their preferences and thanked Alfred for being willing to ditch his taco plans to help Matt.

“Anything for the baby bro,” Alfred joked, “see y’all in a few hours.” The call ended and left Zee feeling bemused; somehow, she’d entirely forgotten that Alfred was older than Matt.

“Do you think he keeps air freshener anywhere around here?” Jack asked aloud, opening kitchen cabinets and craning his neck to see all the contents. “This place is rank.”

Three or four hours later, Matt’s Ontario home still smelled of sweat, smoke, and old weed. Jack had eventually located “some kinda cashed up frog lavender shit” which he’d sprayed liberally in the hopes that it would mask the odor. It did not. With much cursing, Zee had cracked windows to air out the space, after closing Matt’s door so the Canadian would not grow (more) irritable when he felt that they were allowing cold air in rather than letting him stew in the smell of his own depression.

Once the cool became unbearable, Zee began closing the windows once more, and was nearly done when keys rattled at the front door. Upon hearing the noise, Buddy, who’d been piled miserably onto Jack’s lap for belly pats, perked up for the first time since the Anzacs had arrived, and left the living room for the entryway. Jack followed, and turned the corner just in time to see Alfred Jones backing into the house, carrying multiple bags and a large styrofoam cooler. Buddy was there waiting for him, tail wagging slowly.

“Hey, Buddy,” Alfred smiled down at the dog, toeing off his snowy shoes. 

“Oh thank fuck you’re here,” Jack said. Alfred looked up when he heard the Aussie’s voice. 

“Hey, man—not a headline yet, I see,” He grinned, and then looked back down at buddy as he moved further into the house. “Careful, dude, I don’t want to squish you with groceries.” 

“You need help?” Jack asked.

“Nah, I got it. I don’t have plates for the barbeque though.”

“I’ll get ‘em,” Jack said, relieved to be able to do something. He went to the kitchen and Alfred followed. Although he was barely able to see past his cargo, the American navigated to the kitchen table without needing to look and set down his bags just in time for Zee to come in from the hall.

“Oh thank fuck you’re here,” she said. Alfred snorted, and glanced back at Jack. “Gee, it’s almost like you two are related. Hey Kiwi,” Flashing a fond, all-American grin, Alfred stepped forward to give her a hug. Though she would never admit it, Zee had never been happier to be crushed by Alfred “sorry I forgot to not hug too hard” Jones, and gave him a few pats before pushing him away, shrugging helplessly.

“I’ve never seen him like this, I’m sorry for bothering you, but Jack didn’t know what to do so he called me, and I didn’t know what to do, and we weren’t sure you were free but-”

“Hey, hey, don’t apologize, it’s alright, it happens, I’m glad you called. Where is he? Still in his room?”

“Yeah.” Alfred nodded.

“That tracks.”

“Where’s the food?” Jack was holding a plate in both hands and leaning predatorily around Alfred’s arm, eyes searching through the pile of things he’d left on the table.

“Jack,” Zee reprimanded, “he just got here.”

“I’m hungry!”  Alfred only snorted.

“In the cooler. I call dibs on the barkiest brisket, otherwise have at it.”

“What, the charry bits?”

“Yup. Hey, quick question, which one of you is the better baker?” Zee raised her hand at the exact moment Jack pointed at her, not looking up from the styrofoam cooler. “Cool,” Alfred dug around in one of the tote bags and produced a large, very old ceramic pie pan which contained two plastic-wrapped disks of dough. “He’s got a rolling pin somewhere around here—bottom drawer to the left of the oven, I think—could you roll these out and set the oven to 375?”

“Oh,” Zee took the dish in surprise. Of all solutions she’d expected Alfred to offer, pastry hadn’t been one of them. “Sure.”

“Mate, what the hell did you wrap this in?” Jack was hard at work excavating his dinner from the cooler, which contained a dense package wrapped in what appeared to be thick gold tinfoil.

“Satellite grade mylar,” Alfred bragged with a boyish grin.

“What?” Jack looked up at him, and Alfred nodded, grinning wider. 

“Got a whole stockpile of it—reject batches from NASA, they just let me walk off with it. I swear it’s the most useful shit.” Jack turned back to the barbeque with a manic grin.

“Sick,” he praised.

“It should still be plenty hot. But tell you what, before you dig in would you mind turning on the bathtub to get the water warmed up?”

“Uh… sure,” Jack said, glancing down at the hall to the washroom, which was next door to Matt’s bedroom. “...why?” he asked apprehensively. Alfred shrugged off his old bomber jacket and hung it off the corner of a chairback. 

“Because I can smell him from here,” he said, rolling up the sleeves on his flannel. “Jesus, it’s freezing. Why isn’t the heat on? And why does it smell like rotten lavender?” He spoke as if musing to himself, and went over to the thermostat to turn up the dial. 

Jack was too out of his depth to feel embarrassed about standing there waiting for Alfred to go first towards Matt’s room before he followed. He scuttled to the safety of the washroom while Alfred continued on fearlessly toward Matthew’s door.

“Maaa-tieee,” Alfred sing-songed, rapping his knuckles against the door in a cheery rhythm. “How ya doin’, kiddo?”

“Va te faiire foutre, tas de merde!” Matt’s voice burst from inside. Jack’s French vocabulary consisted almost entirely of curse words and insults, which allowed him to understand most of what Matt had said, but even if he hadn’t known that Matt had called his brother a pile of shit and told him to fuck off, his tone alone would’ve certainly kept Jack from knocking again. 

“Aww, I missed you too,” Alfred laughed, and Jack couldn’t believe how unbothered he was. Alfred did speak French, didn’t he? “Welp, I’m coming in, so if you’re planning on throwing anything at me, now’s your time to aim.” Seated on the edge of the bathtub, Jack turned on the faucet and craned his neck to peer out the doorway.

“Je vais t'en tabarnaker une si tu continues!”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” Alfred opened the door and let himself in. Jack watched a wine bottle fly past and shatter in the main hall.

“I hope that didn’t have anything left in it, it’ll neve come out of the rug. Jesus, Mattie, did you smoke an entire dispensary in here?” There was more indistinct French grumbling. “No dice, bucko. You are getting out of bed and you are getting into the bathtub. I might even have a fun surprise for you as a reward.”

“No one asked you to be here,” Matt switched to English.

“Yes they did, you got both Anzacs all the way up here and they’re worried about you, you dramatic bastard.” Alfred turned and shouted back, “Heya Jack, how’s the bath?” The Australian started, suddenly realizing he had an actual job aside from eavesdropping.

“Uh, y-yeah, it’s good, mate, ‘bout warm enough I reckon.”

“Perfect.”

“John Christian Kelly you fucking traitor,” Matt moaned, and Jack was suddenly a teenager again, feeling like the worst brother in the world.

“O ho, breaking out the passport names? Be nice to the kid, asshole. Let go of the duvet. Come on, Matt, you’re not an infant. Get up.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“I will drag you out if I have to.”

“Non.”

Jack took the opportunity to plug the tub to let it fill before swiftly fleeing the scene. If things started flooding, he decided, that was very much an Alfred problem.

“Let go,” the American was saying.

“T’es donc ben niaiseux!”

“I can be more niaiseux if you’d like,” Alfred said, and there were sounds of a struggle.

“Alfred put me the fuck down!”

“I warned you!—Ow! Put your goddamn claws away, I’m trying to help you, you jerk,”

“It’s cold,” Matt complained, voice louder now. From a safe distance, Jack could see Alfred carrying Matt tossed over one shoulder, the Canadian’s limbs caught halfway between koala-hugging a duvet and beating at Alfred’s front and back with ineffective flailing.

“Which is why your wonderful, thoughtful, caring big brother thought to turn the bath ahead of time.”

“It’ll still be cooold,” Matt whined, even as Alfred marched him into the washroom.

“Upsy-daisy,”

“Alfre-AH! Don’t you fucking dare,” 

“If I set you on your feet are you going to punch me?”

“I’ll kill you,”

“Well in that case,” there was a giant splash. Jack gasped and covered his mouth. Zee had wandered over to eavesdrop, hands still coated in flour.

“You idiot! My duvet!”

“Needs to be washed just as badly as you do, genius. Give it here, I’ll put it in the washer. And look—I even brought that stupid sissy French soap you like so much. You do remember how to use soap, right?”

“Fuck you,”

“You’re very welcome. Now strip, pretty sure those clothes should be incinerated at this point.”

“I’m not stripping in front of you.”

“If I leave, are you going to take them off?”

“....I’m not stripping in front of you.”

“Have it your way,” Alfred said.

“What the- get your hands off of me, you pervert!”

“You’re my brother, Matt. And you call me a prude. Take them off or I will take them off for you, how do you even stand that smell?” 

“I hate you.”

“I know, we can talk about it later. Now give ‘em here.” Some splashing and cursing ensued, but at the end of it all, Alfred emerged from the bathroom half soaked but victorious, a pile of soggy bedclothes and pajamas in his arms. “Do not get out of that tub until you’ve washed your hair twice!” 

Alfred carried the aforementioned duvet and soggy clothes and dumped them in a pile in the laundry room before returning to Matt’s bedroom and gathering up all the other laundry he could find. 

“Does he have a broom anywhere, or…?” Jack asked, gesturing to the shattered wine bottle shards.

“Don’t worry about it, man, go eat. I’ll take care of it.” And take care of it he must have, because Zee and Jack sat quite peacefully in the kitchen for some time, eating barbeque and listening to the sounds of American hustling and bustling from down the hall. Only once they’d heard eight or ten dustpan fulls of rubbish rattle into the bin and the washing machine click on for the second time did Alfred return to the kitchen, not a hair out of place or a bead of sweat in sight.

“Oh, that’s perfect! Thanks, Zee,” he said upon seeing the pastry disks rolled out on the counter. Though Zee had rolled them out some time ago, they remained cold  and malleable thanks to how cold the house remained. 

“Are they big enough for what you wanted?”

“Yeah, they’re great, thanks.” Alfred rifled through the pile of tote bags and carried a large bundle of fruit to the counter, gathering up bowls, cutting boards, and knives before dumping it all on his workspace before raiding Matt’s spice cabinet.

“What is it you’re making, anyway?”

“Pie!” Alfred said cheerily, untying a canvas sack and carefully corralling the colorful pile of apples that rolled out. “Apple pie. It’s his favorite.” Jack frowned. To that exact moment, Jack hadn’t ever known Matt to have favored pie any more than the next man, certainly not enough to classify it as his favorite. 

“Really?” He asked aloud.

“Yeah,” Alfred told him, “I used to make it all the time for him when he was—oh, speak of the devil, look who’s rejoined society.” Jack and Zee turned to see Matt standing in the kitchen doorway, bundled up in slippers, fleece PJs, a bathrobe, with a towel wrapped still around his hair. With a squinted expression, no hint of a smile, and bags under his eyes, Matt’s presence made Jack lean away, ever so slightly.

“Feel any better, kiddo?” Alfred asked, slicing apples. Zee shot a look at Jack. 

Kiddo? She mouthed, eyes wide and flicking to Matt to see how their brother would respond to the moniker. Jack shrugged, just as confused as she was. He watched the scene surreptitiously while helping another dinner roll onto his plate. 

To the Anzac’s shock, Matt didn’t respond to Alfred’s comment at all, and his sheepskin slippers hissed across the hardwood as he shuffled over to where Alfred was calmly moving handfuls of thin apple slices into a large glass mixing bowl. The American didn’t look up as Matt came to loom over his shoulder, watching the process in silence. Though Matt was a few centimeters taller than Alfred—especially with a towel piled atop his head—he was hunched over and curled in on himself enough that when he chose to lean forward onto his brother, his mouth and nose fell onto the back of Alfred’s right shoulder. The American glanced at his brother briefly before returning attention to his work.

“You smell nice,” he said quietly, and though Zee could hear it clearly she suddenly felt as though she were eavesdropping. “Feel better?”

“Mmph,” Matt mumbled into Alfred’s shoulder, eyes following the movement of his knife, the apples to the bowl.  

“Sorry for dunking you. You don’t have to forgive me until later.” Matt let out an angrier grunt at that, but stayed where he was, standing close to his brother’s warmth and watching him slice apples with centuries-old experience.

“What kind?” He asked at length. Alfred finished with the last apple and pushed his cutting board aside and began mixing the slices in the bowl, blending the greens, browns, and reds all in amongst each other.

“Roxbury russet, Rhode Island greening, and,” He turned his head to look at Matt when he said, smiling softly, “some snow apples, too.” The Canadian’s eyes lit up for the first time in weeks. 

“Tu as trouvé la Fameuse?”

“Well,” Alfred smirked, looking back at his work. “I took a cutting from your place back in the 50s. Wasn’t sure if you ever noticed. I’ve had these in my cellar since the fall.” Matt made a surprised noise, but otherwise did not reply. Alfred allowed him to lean against his shoulder for some time more as he sprinkled in spices, lemon, and butter shavings, but eventually shrugged his shoulder so it would shake Matthew off his back.

“Go eat something,” He said softly, elbowing in the vague direction of the table where Zee and Jack sat with their barbeque. “I brought you klobasnek.” Jack himself had no idea what a klobasnek was, but Matt’s interest seemed to be piqued, and without so much as a thank you he shuffled zombie-like away from Alfred towards the food. “It’s in a paper bag, left side of the cooler,” Alfred offered helpfully, and Matt grunted in acknowledgement as he dug.

Zee and Jack watched Matt scavenge for his mystery dinner with a measure of wariness. Having lived with a porcupine of a brother for the last several hours and days, it was jarring to see him standing upright and quiet and… docile. After some raccoonish digging in the aforementioned cooler, Matt emerged grasping what looked like a long doughy bun—klobasnek, Zee concluded—with sausage and cheese leaking out the end. He bit into it, sighed, and fell into a seat across the table from Zee. Beside him, Jack had paused mid-chew to make sure the Canadian posed no danger before returning to his brisket. 

Matt sat there, holding his still-steaming Texas fare with both hands, elbows on the table, head bending to take bites like a bobbing bird in water, while Alfred continued with his peeling and coring of apples. After a while, the American began to whistle. Neither Jack nor Zee recognized the tune, but Matt’s robotic munching faltered and he let out a huff that a depressed person could have interpreted as a laugh.

Uneasy next to the unfamiliar doppelgänger of his usually mild-mannered brother, Jack inhaled the last of his food and stood, busying himself by clearing away dishes and repacking the remains of the food. Cleaned and fed or not, Matt was still emanating the murdery vibes of a trapped animal, and Jack had enough experience around dangerous animals to know better. 

Zee stayed where she was, too fascinated with this version of Matt to look away. 

“What’s in that, anyway?” She ventured, addressing Matt. Matt regarded his meal and continued to chew. 

“Al?” He croaked around a mouthful. 

“Mm?”

“What’s in this?”

“Kolache dough, sausage, cheese, Canadian-safe levels of jalapeños, and a century’s worth of Czech-American love,” the American said, popping an apple shard into his mouth. Matt looked up at Zee.

“That,” he said, looking like a bear who’d come out of hibernation early and wasn’t happy about it. Zee did not want to push her luck further by asking what kolache meant, so she quietly Googled it on her phone.

Just as Matt was down to the last few bites, a kettle began to whistle, and Alfred paused his pie making to pour the hot water into a large teapot and set an honest-to-god tea timer.

“I didn’t know you knew how to make tea,” Zee teased. Alfred shrugged his shoulders as he returned to his baking.

“The only time I don’t know how to make tea is when Arthur’s in the room,” he replied, growing a roguish smirk, “It’s the weirdest thing, I always end up confusing the sugar with sea salt.”

In his strongest display of emotion since bathtime, Matthew rolled his eyes and said something exasperated and French under his breath. Alfred glanced over at him, hands still working the rolling pin without needing to look. 

“Wow, Mattie, was that a facial expression?” Matt did not respond, but Alfred only chuckled and returned to his work. 

Precisely three minutes and fifty seconds later,  Alfred was hoisting his pie—which had to be taller than most all apple pies Zee had ever seen—into the oven. It was hard to judge how heavy the pie was since Zee had once seen Alfred Jones lift the front end of a lorry with one hand, but she squinted at it anyway, attempting to calculate the volume of the dish, the diameter of pastry she’d rolled out, wondering how much apple pie Alfred thought Matt would actually eat. 

Zee’s mental math was interrupted when Jack returned to the table and took the open seat next to his sister, sliding a mug of tea her way. This left Alfred the seat next to Matt, but the American did not sit down. After taking a large gulp of (heavily sweetened) tea, he set down his mug and stood behind Matt, where he began to pick at the twisted towel atop his head until the Canadian’s mostly-dry curls fell out over his face. Matt did not react and sipped at his tea.

“Ne touchez pas à mes cheveux.,” Matt warned.

“I’m not gonna,” Alfred said, petulance but no real venom in his voice. “Now drink your tea, you fussy papist.” Zee almost choked on her tea, but Matt only mumbled indistinctly into his tea and endured his brother’s careful attention. 

Jack and Zee fell into the contented, quiet trance of a commonwealth citizen at their tea. It took a while for Zee to notice that Matt, more than being catatonic from depression and placated with tea, was actually nodding off as Alfred gently tugged at his curls, pulling at the knots that remained and carefully parting his hair so it would dry in a comfortable pattern. 

“Ne vous couchez pas tout de suite, votre couette n'a pas fini de sécher..” Alfred instructed. It’d been a while since Zee had heard Alfred speak anything but English, and his accent had a open, relaxed kind of swing to it that Matt’s did not.

“Mm,” Matt grunted, eyes now fully closed, hands cupping his tea for its last dregs of warmth. “Vous parlez français comme un bébé élan qui se promène,” he said, which made Alfred grin. 

“Aww, vous me trouvez adorable? Merci.” Matt sighed, which made Alfred smile wider. “Lorsque j'en aurai fini avec ça, vous devriez aller chercher votre chien, vous lui manquez.”

“Hmm,” Matt seemed content enough to stay where he was, body swaying ever so slightly to the gentle tugs and scratches on his scalp, “okay.” 

At length, once Matt had finished his tea and Alfred had sufficiently teased out Matt’s hair to dry, the American stepped away and gave his brother a light pat on the arm. Matt sighed and, with a concerted effort, stood to his feet and allowed Alfred to shepherd him to the living room, where he collapsed onto the long sofa there. Buddy immediately jumped up on him, knocking him back and winding him, which made Alfred laugh.

“Hi, bud,” Matt grumbled, and allowed the dog to sprawl out on top of him, inching up on his chest until he could lick the man’s face. Matt scratched behind his ears while Alfred teased the fire back up to a roaring flame.

Jack and Zee spied on the scene from the doorway, neither noticing the other’s presence until Alfred spotted them and they nearly bumped heads when they jumped.

“Oh, stop hovering,” Alfred said quietly, shooing his younger siblings away from the doorway as he went back through to the kitchen and closed the door behind. “Honestly, it’s not like he’s going to bite."

“Maybe not you,” Jack grumbled under his breath, and Zee would’ve smacked him except that he was right. Alfred didn’t appear to hear, and was instead looking through the glass of the oven and mumbling to himself. He tapped something into his smartwatch and looked back up at his Anzac companions. He gave a quick but emphatic sigh, and quietly clapped his hands together.

“Alright, he’s bound to fall asleep any minute, Buddy’ll keep him occupied for the next couple of hours. In the meantime, Zee, I need you to make up his bed—oh, and be sure to close the windows and turn the space heater back on, I was letting it air out. Jack, I need you to start washing up the kitchen and start clearing out the fridge. I’ll clean the bathroom and get more firewood. Sound good?” 

“Yeah,” said Zee. When Jack said nothing, the kiwi smacked him in the side. “Oi, mate,”

“Hmm?” Jack shook himself, having been too preoccupied by how Alfred’s focused, frowning expression looked so exactly like Arthur that he forgot to listen to whatever the man had said. “Sorry, what?”

“Dumb cunt,” Zee scoffed, which earned her an affronted look from Alfred. She ignored him and grabbed a towel off the counter, slapping it on Jack’s chest. “Dishes, fridge, now.”

“Oh, sure,” Jack caught the towel and looked around the kitchen, as if seeing it for the first time. Alfred 

“Thanks, guys, seriously, you’ve been a huge help,” Alfred said, gathering a few cleaning supplies before retreating to the bathroom.

“We’re being a big help,” Jack chuckled as he gathered dirty dishes to the sink, “I feel like a toddler trying to help out with the baking,” he turned on the water and watched suds begin to churn in the saucepan, still encrusted with old kraft dinner, “being told jolly good for getting flour all over the floor.”

“I’m not going to  complain,” Zee muttered from the nearby laundry room, hauling Matt’s copious amount of bedding out of the dryer and piling them together.

“I won’t either, but fuck, mate, has he sat down since he got here?”

“I don’t think so.”

“He’s not even been here 4 hours, and he’s got the entire house cleaned up. It’s like he’s done this before.”

“Something tells me he has,” Zee stepped out of the laundry room, unable to see above the mountain range of bedding in her arms.

“I mean, if Matt got like this often enough to give the Yankee practice, then surely we would’ve seen him like this at least once before, right?” He looked over his shoulder at his sister as she shuffled her way to the hall, trying not to bump into anything. 

“I dunno,” she said distractedly, “depends on how long Al’s been practicing. I forget how old those cunts are, sometimes.” Jack did too, but didn’t want to admit the fact that he had no clue how old Alfred was, and didn’t realize he’d forgotten until that exact moment. He struggled to dredge up the Arthur’s Boring History Lessons Slash Rants portion of his memory. Alfred had always featured heavily in those.

“Ya know,” Jack mused instead, hands soapy as he squinted at nothing, “I don’t think I can picture Matt as a baby.”

“And sometimes, I can’t picture you as an adult,”

“Hey.” 

----------------------- 

Alfred finished with the bathroom in short order, and took no break before re-donning his coat and his boots to slip out the back door to gather more firewood before the mid-afternoon sunset. Matt seemed to have had burned through most of the stockpile near his house, so Alfred took the toboggan leaned up by the door and dragged it out to the firewood shed that stood a safe distance from the house.

“Jesus, Mattie, why do you keep it all the way out here,” Alfred grumbled, although he knew the answer, because he’d been there when a lightning bolt and a shed full of timber had nearly set Matt’s house ablaze. “My ankles are wet,” he complained anyway. “Can’t believe a blizzard knocked you out, for real. I mean, seriously, dude, it’s not like you get them every two sec….onds.” Alfred stopped as he rounded the corner of the shed. “Oh. Oh. Oh, Mattie.”

----------------------- 

Zee was leaning across Matt’s bed to finish fluffing up Matt’s pillows—and Jesus Christ did this man owned a lot of pillows—when a tapping on the window startled her so badly she faceplanted directly into the pillows. She marched over and yanked the curtain aside, revealing Alfred Jones cupping his face to the fogging glass.

“What?” she griped, annoyed at him for giving her such a start. With a gloved hand, he pointed sideways, towards where she knew the rear door to the house was. He made an additional “come on” gesture, and she waved him away before meeting him at the backdoor.

“Hey, sorry,” he said as soon as she slid open the door. He was soaked from the knee down and was hauling a toboggan impossibly laden with firewood to the doorstep. “I don’t wanna track mud everywhere. Would you mind bringing some of this inside? I gotta go back out.”

“For what?” Zee asked, eyeing the tower of firewood that was sure to last them a day and a half, at least. 

“Gotta chop up some more wood,” he said, already trudging back through the path he’d plowed to the shed. 

“Alfred, I’m pretty sure we have enough for—”

“Thanks, Kiwi!”

--------- 

Jack had a strong stomach, so he was completely unfazed by the menagerie of molds that awaited him inside of Matt’s fridge. Even when he had to dispose of the half-full pitcher of clumpy, curdled milk, he remained unaffected by the neglected fridge and its contents.

The oven and its contents, on the other hand, was a different story. Jack inhaled deeply through his nose, and could not help but give a guttural groan as his head filled with baking apples and spices.

“I swear to god, if he doesn’t let me eat it as soon as it's out I’m gonna get crook.”

“It’s for Matt,” Zee reminded him, even though she was stationed at the oven staring intently through the window, mouth watering involuntarily. “Besides, the filling’s bubbling,” Jack moaned with longing, “you’d burn your face off.” Jack dumped another bag of spoiled food into the bin, and on his way back to the fridge paused at Zee’s side to press his face in close and stare at the bubbling apple pie with her. Mesmerized, he lingered.

“He’d better fucking give me the recipe to this,” Zee muttered. As if on cue, the back door opened and shut with a slam. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Alfred was chanting, fumbling to get out of his boots and and dripping snow pants, “shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he continued as he darted into the kitchen, tossing his gloves aside and sideswiping the kitchen island as he sock-surfed his way toward the oven, scooping up the oven mits on the way. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Jack and Zee parted like the Red Sea so that Alfred could yank open the oven. It was at this point Zee realized that in the background of Alfred’s four letter incantation, a frantic alarm bell echoed from his smartwatch. The American heaved out the pie with an ease only Alfred Jones could manage, and slid it onto the trivets waiting on the counter. Once the oven was closed and turned off, the silence that followed allowed them to hear the bubbling pie filling. After a satisfied sniff and sigh, Alfred retrieved a butterknife from the drawer and ran it gently over the crest of the pie. It audibly scraped across the pastry, and Jack could feel the saliva filling his mouth.

As if sensing the younger nations’ attention, Alfred took off his oven mitts and fixed them both with a firm look, pointing his finger at them.“Do,” he said to Zee, “not,” to Jack, “eat,” back to Zee,” “This,” Jack again. He stayed on Jack, jabbing his finger for emphasis.

“Oi,” Jack frowned at him, smacking the hand away. “I wasn’t thinking about it,” 

“Yes you were,” Zee accused. 

“Which is why I’m telling you now, don’t. Zee,” Alfred said.

“Aye?

“Don’t let him eat it.”

“Aye.”

“Hey.”

“Right, I’m going back out for a bit longer. Text me if he wakes up.”

“Back outside?” Zee asked, glancing at the window. “Mate, it’s nearly dark.”

“It’s fine, I have a headlamp,” Alfred waved her off, retrieving his gloves and stepping back into his snow pants.

“For what?”

“Choppin’ wood, like I said. Later,” The door shut behind him. Zee looked back at Jack, who shrugged. They both ended up looking at the pie that lay between them, contemplative. After a few seconds, the door opened again and Alfred stuck his head through. “Don’t,” he said, and the Anzacs jerked up their eyes, suddenly needing to be elsewhere.

------------- 

Matt ended up sleeping far longer than just a few hours, well past sunset and into the actual evening. Zee eventually curled up in the sitting room nearby the back door and began to read the books he’d left out—the English ones, anyway. Jack was cuddled up beside her in a blanket and drooling on her shoulder when Alfred finally came back inside. Zee looked up and watched him set what looked like a chunk of wood by the door so he could take off his wet gear.

“What’s that?” She asked.

“Eh, just a scrap, though I’d carve something,” he said, sounding out of breath. Water dripped from his hair onto the floor, and Zee realized he was soaked head to toe. What the hell had he been doing? “Matt up yet?” he asked.

“No, still snoozing.”

“Alright,” Alfred didn’t seem surprised. “I’m going to shower, if he’s up before I’m done, get him a slice of pie, would you?”

He was not up before Alfred was done, and so Zee stayed put and Jack slept on. Before too long Alfred returned clean, dry and wearing a set of thick sweats under a flannel. Zee would’ve assumed he’d nicked them from Matt’s closet, but both the sweatshirt and the joggers had faded NASA logos on them, so he must’ve had the forethought to pack a bag. He sank gratefully into an armchair, letting out a delighted noise when he realized it rocked. When he produced the scrap of wood and a pocket knife from his kangaroo pouch, Zee lowered her book.

“Firewood’s a little dry to carve, isn’t it?”

“Oh, no, this stuff is fresh. Just carved up the tree.”

“Is that what you were doing? A whole tree?”

“Well, I didn’t want it to sit out in the snow and start to rot,” Alfred said, knife schick-ing into the wood with a satisfying sound. “It must’ve fallen down in the storm, that’s why Matt’s so down right now.”

“Over a tree?” Zee asked, glancing down at Jack’s sleeping face and jostling her shoulder until he fell into a more comfortable spot.

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t just any tree, it was his oldest maple on the property. Hell, even I’m a little torn up about it. I remember helping him plant that thing, back in the day.”

“Shit, mate. How old was it?”

“Oh, gosh,” schick, schick, “I can’t remember the exact year. Maybe… ‘67? 68? So that’s what, two hundred fifty years, give or take? Alfred focused on his project, blowing away maple curls. Zee could smell the sweet wood from her seat, and it mixed wonderfully with the lingering smell of the pie. “He was still pretty small, couldn’t really lift heavy things, so I helped him carry the sapling over,” Alfred recalled, and a smile tugged at his face. “He was a cute kid, you know.” 

Zee had done the math quickly in her head and was somewhat surprised to realize Alfred was talking about the years just after Matt would’ve come under Arthur’s guardianship, before Alfred’s revolution. Matt never really talked about those years, at least not to Zee. 

“Really?” She smiled, and couldn’t help but glance down at Jack.

“Oh yeah, totally. The village ladies couldn’t get enough of him, when he was small. Chubby cheeks, perfect blond curls, a pout that could end wars. He was standoffish for most people but he liked following me everywhere. There used to be some stables out where the firewood shed is now, you know. I’d take him out on the pony to tap wild maple, before he was big enough to ride by himself.”

The image entranced Zee, but she struggled to imagine it. She knew from Arthur’s anecdotes that Alfred had only been a teenager during his Revolution, so she supposed he must’ve been something like a tween when Matt was a new child of the Empire—and she also knew from Arthur that Matt had been little more than a toddler at that time.

“Did you get the sapling from the woods?”

“No, he insisted on growing it from a seed,” Alfred focused on his carving. “Lost several sprouts until I convinced him to seed it indoors so the moose wouldn’t get it. When it worked, I convinced him it’d been his idea.” Alfred smiled, turning the wood in his hand and trimming off the edges shard by shard. “He was so proud of that thing. It took me a while to learn that it’d survived to maturity, actually, cause it was still pretty small when I…” Alfred faltered, pausing between swipes of his knife. “Anyway,” he said, “it’s no wonder he’s upset. That tree meant a lot to him.”

“I can imagine.” Zee looked back to her book, but didn’t see the words on the page. She couldn’t get a thought out of her head, so eventually she shared:

“You know, Al, I forget sometimes you’re the oldest of us.” Alfred let out a laugh.

“I’m assuming this happens in the same way I forget you’re not older than Jack,” he eyed the sleeping Aussie. “Don’t think I don’t know how it works, I know everyone sees Matt as the mature, responsible one.”

“I mean,” the kiwi scoffed, “can you blame us?”

“Hey, I can be responsible sometimes. And sometimes Matt’s the one who needs a rational adult around, although no one ever believes me when I say that.” Alfred huffed. “But no, I can’t blame you.” Schick, schick.

“Well, he does now, but I’ve sure never seen him like this before.”

“He can hide it pretty well.”

“If he has you to help clean him up like this every time, I can see how.” That made Alfred smile.

“What are brothers for?” He shrugged.

They both looked up when the sound of a creaking door broke the stillness of the evening, followed by the click-clack of unclipped dog claws on the floor. 

“Bonjour, marmotte,” Alfred called across the house. “Did you finally smell the pie?”

“Mmrf-hmm? Pie?” Jack was suddenly awake, blinking away sleep. Zee snorted. “There’s pie?” Alfred set aside his craft and hopped up from his seat.

“Man after my own stomach,” he said. “Come on, maybe he’ll let us have some.”

Alfred took time to whip cream for his pie, but Matt did not wait, digging into his slice as soon as it was out of the dish. Still, the slice was so large that by the time the whipped cream was available, there was still a full sized slice to catch the dollop that Alfred plopped on Matt’s plate without prompting. Jack took an equally large slice and stuck his tongue out when Zee gave him a dirty look for it. She took this as permission to get a large as well, though hers was pointedly smaller than her brother’s and she let him know it.

They ended up in the living room with Schitt’s Creek playing quietly above the mantle, the last logs of the fire cracking and crumbling into embers. The pie was thick enough that the middle was still satisfyingly hot, helping to melt the cream into the filling and create the perfectly tart, creamy bite of sweetness. Alfred finished first and immediately resumed his woodcarving project. The rest soon followed. Full and growing drowsy, Matt moved to sit next to his older brother and lean a cheek against his arm so he could watch Alfred work. Alfred leaned his head over to kiss the top of his little brother’s head. Jack was dozing off again, and Zee was too, mesmerized by the light of the embers.

Matt fell asleep first, but Alfred could see that Jack wouldn’t be far behind. 

“Hey,” he whispered to Zee, “why don’t you two turn in for the night? You’ve had a long day.”

“Mmmhmm,” Zee hummed back, “says sir “I chopped up a whole tree today”.” She began to heave herself up anyway. “Do you want help getting him to bed?” She indicated Matt. 

“Nah, I got it. Get some rest.”

“If you say so. Oi, Jackie, time for bed,” she kicked his foot.

“Mmmph?” 

“Come on, you fat wombat.”

Alfred muted the TV and continued carving in silence, satisfied with the silence, the warmth of the fire, the soft breath of Matt sleeping beside him. At his feet, Buddy flopped over to expose his belly to the fire, and gave a great yawn. Alfred reached out a toe to scratch the dog’s back.

“Me too, bud.”

Alfred didn’t realize that Matt had woken back up until he was dusting off his completed carving and moving the curls into a neat pile.

“That’s maple, isn’t it,” the Canadian said, and Alfred jumped, bucking Matt off his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ, I’m still holding a knife,”

“Sorry,” Matt said groggily, “I figured you knew I was awake.”

“No, didn’t—for how long?”

“Not long,” Matt yawned. The American tried not to laugh when he saw the creases his hoodie had made on Matt’s cheek. “What is it?” He eyed Alfred’s carving. Alfred looked down at it.

“Oh, not much, I just…” he glanced at his brother. “I saw the tree,” he said gently. “I’m really sorry, Mattie.” He handed Matt his small creation. It was a very roughly carved wooden cup or bowl, a little smaller than Matt’s hand, with a smooth exterior and a far rougher interior and, unexpectedly, a hole whittled into the bottom of it.

“Well it’s not going to hold much wine,” Matt mused.

“It’s not for drinking,” Alfred corrected him with an eyeroll, “it’s a flower pot. I just… I figured… you know, if you ever want to plant a new seed out there, you can start it off here, kinda, keep things going, you know? Connected.” Matt suddenly had a lump in his throat as he turned the gift over in his hands. It didn’t look quite as rough now that his eyes were watery. “Or, I dunno,” Alfred was looking at it too, but with a critic’s eye. “It might be too small for that.”

“No,” Matt said, “It’s great. Thank you, Al,” he leaned into his brother’s side.

“I sectioned up the rest and put it in your shed so she doesn’t start rotting when the snow melts.” At Matt’s slightly panicked expression, Al added, “don’t worry, I didn’t chop anything up too small. Well, except—the trunk was huge, you know, so I had to section it up. I hope you don’t mind, I sliced off a portion already, uh, a pretty big one, I was going to dig out those woodworking tools I gave you that I know you haven’t used, while the wood’s still wet, start making you a new front door. I mean, no offense bud but your house needs it, the one you have is cracked to hell and isn’t even hanging lev-” The last syllable was forced from Alfred’s lungs when Matt wrapped his arms around Alfred’s middle and squeezed. Alfred laughed and fell back under his brother’s weight.

“Is that okay?” Alfred chuckled, patting Matt’s back as the younger man dug his face into his shoulder.

“Yes,” Matt replied, and the unexpected waver in the word surprised Alfred.

“Aw, kiddo, it’s okay,” he wrapped his arms around Matt’s broad and bony shoulders, ignoring it when Matt sniffed against Al’s flannel. He rubbed Matt’s back for a while and let the Canadian quietly emote. Eventually, he said, “I didn’t know it meant that much to you.”

“Of course it did,” Matt turned his face out of Alfred’s shirt so he could speak, now nasally. “That was the first tree I planted on purpose. And it was one of the last times you were up here with me, before your stupid—” Matt caught himself before finishing. He huffed and hugged Alfred tighter to himself.

“Yeah,” Alfred said quietly, guiltily. It took him a long while to figure out what to say. “I remember. I’m sorry, Mattie.” After giving Matt a moment to respond and receiving no reaction, he craned his neck down and kissed Matt’s head. “It was a really good tree, to have lasted this long.” Matt remained silent  for a long time, staring at the fire. Alfred was not sure if he was being quiet because he was sad, or because he was keeping himself from starting an argument about Alfred’s Revolution, which would perhaps always be the most tender wound between them. Either way, Alfred realized he was likely going to be pinned in place for quite some time, so he reclined against some pillows and Matt followed, clung to him like a baby koala. 

It was Alfred’s turn to grow sleepy, Matt’s warmth on his front, the TV light dancing in unfocused patterns, last embers tinkling and crackling like seaglass on the tide. 

“I have a proper greenhouse this time,” Matt said suddenly, sounding sleepy. “So it’ll have a better chance. Will you come back when it’s big enough to plant?”

“Hmm,” Alfred let his eyes fall shut, “you still need help lifting saplings?” Matt poked him in the ribs and he laughed. “Sure I will. I gotta stick around long enough to make you that door, anyhow.” Matt hummed his agreement and the two drifted towards sleep together, Matt’s arms slowly loosening around Alfred as he relaxed. One of Alfred’s hands slipped off of Matt’s back and hung off the sofa, fingertips tickled by Buddy’s fur.

Matt appeared to be asleep—or at least mostly so, when he shifted on his brother-turned pillow and muttered,

“Je t'aime,” which made Alfred’s heart swell. Squinting his eyes open, the American fetched the remote to turn off the TV and pulled a blanket off the top of the couch and onto his brother, tucking in the sides around them to make sure no part of the Canadian would grow cold as the fire died.

“You too, kiddo,” he whispered, bringing his arms back up to wrap around Matt before shuffling his upper half into a more comfortable spot and letting himself drift to sleep to this sound of his brother’s soft breathing.

#hws canada #hws america #hws new zealand #hws australia #matthew williams #alfred jones #alfred f. jones #hetalia #my fic #my writing #na bros #anzac sibs #canzacus crew

[gotstabbedbyapen]

A Welcome Letter

Greetings to whoever is reading this,

I am known as The Pen, death by being Caesar'd with pens, and the owner of this Tumblr blog. Yes, “The Pen” is not my real name - it was just one of my pseudonyms. But nobody needs to know my real name and my other pseudonyms :)

Anyway, now that you have stumbled upon here and wanted to know what to expect from me, here are some things you can jot down!

1. I am an everything enthusiast.

This is a fancy way to say that my content is very inconsistent. Most of the time, I brainrot over Greek gods and heroes and everything in between, especially Apollo and Hyacinthus. I'm also interested in other mythology or non-mythology topics, which you'll come to see.

Yes, I am a certified weird kid in real life. I always pay attention to the wrong things and want a place to scream about what I've learned. You might be side-glancing me right now, but I can't see you through the screen, so that's fine!

But my hyperfixation of something does not make me an expert. Everything you see on my blog should only prompt you to learn more about the “new thing” I just discovered, not accept it as a fact right away. I might be wrong. I might be missing something. I have a lot to dig through, and so do you.

2. I am a professional shitposter.

If the discoveries are too complicated and must be written in an essay with the 1000 words minimum to fully explain them, fear not!

I cannot write lengthy analyses without my pea-size brain exploding, so I will make them into memes to be more digestible. Please don't judge me! I am very uncultured and have a cringy taste.

Other than that, I will be writing incorrect quotes, doodling fanarts, and cooking other shitposts and shenanigans for no reason at all!

3. I am an amateur writer.

If the incorrect quotes are too long, I will write them into oneshots, long stories, or even series. English is not my first language, so my grammar and wording can be weird. I'm trying to improve them, but I guarantee nothing.

All my works are on Archive Of Our Own, and my account is GotStabbedByAPen. If you are interested, here are some of my Greek Mythology works!

Spin The Wheel - What are we having today? [ALWAYS ONGOING] A collection of oneshots I wrote about my favorite characters and relationships.

I'm Starving For Hyapollo Content [ALWAYS ONGOING] A collection series of my Apollo x Hyacinthus works, ranging from oneshots to longfics.

To Do What Is Right [COMPLETED] A Blood Of Zeus fanfiction, told from the perspective of Iris, goddess of rainbows and Hera's messenger.

Have A Word [COMPLETED] A oneshot featuring Zeus and Persephone, where the father and daughter talk things out about her marriage.

Hyacinthus Appreciation Week [COMPLETED] I wrote seven short stories in seven days as an appreciation act for our Spartan prince and his loved ones.

You Charmed A God - And He Fell [COMPLETED] A Poseidon x Nerites fanfiction I wrote in English and Vietnamese. You can find both versions in here.

That is all you need to know for now. Whether my blog is educational or entertaining or neither is up to you to decide. I still hope you have a good time here!

Thanks for sticking to the end. Don't forget to stay safe, stay sane, and keep making the good stuff!

Love you all,

The Pen

#a welcome letter #blog intro #masterpost

[lightwise]

2 and 12 for the ask game please

Since you had to share one question I’ll answer an extra one here as well for you 😉 also wow these got really long and a little more intense than I expected. Hoping to not incite any violence with these answers but I did get pretty heartfelt here.

12. Name a common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing.

Since @heyclickadee covered some of the opinions I have about pro-Jedi vs Jedi-critical perspectives, I’m going to go with a Bad Batch peeve I have. Honestly, it extends to more of a general media critique and concern as well.

I get really sad when I see people choosing one of these three stances:

1. Hating Crosshair for what he’s done/claim he needs to spend the rest of his life making amends and that he deserves everything that’s happened to him,

2. Hating the rest of the Batch (and Hunter specifically) claiming that they didn’t do enough, that they abandoned Crosshair, that they are horrible people who left their brother behind with no remorse and that they deserve everything that’s happened to them,

3. Hating Omega and considering her a dumb little kid who took Crosshair’s place with his brothers, ruined the show, and is otherwise just a stupid girl character that they don’t want to take seriously.

Now, of course it’s everyone’s right to like or dislike any character(s) or parts of a story that they want to. But one thing that is always really beautiful about TCW and TBB especially is the amount of nuance they strive to convey through their characterizations and plot lines. Very few people in these shows are all good or all bad, and even if they fall squarely on the side of evil vs good, we’re often given reasonings as to why they’ve chosen the paths and beliefs they have.

In addition—family is complicated. The close relationships that are portrayed between the Batch members, the addition of the chip’s influence and circumstances outside of their control, and the twisted difficulties that can come when the people closest to us hurt us, is something that is not one sided and requires a lot of nuance to navigate. Everyone and no one can be to blame in a situation, everything can have gone horribly wrong and yet people can still be sorry over it and seek reconciliation, and people can seek to repair the mistakes they’ve made and it will never erase or make up for the harm that has been done.

All of those contradictions exist in real people, in real life, and I believe that these shows want to portray that as best they can. Broken people who care and who are doing the best they can with the information they have and the motivations that they carry, in a world that they did not create and don’t fully have control over. I think this makes good storytelling (even if the story itself doesn’t always go the way I expected or wanted), and I think it’s good to have compassion for fictional characters just as much as real people. That’s how I hope to approach stories that I love, at least.

Also, sorry, but I have to throw in this classic. Stop blaming Kathleen Kennedy for everything. Like seriously people. I am neither for nor against her, I really don’t have strong opinions one way or the other. But I do know how corporate structures work, and I do know that she may be atop the structure and therefore the most visible for disgruntled fans to throw their ire at, but in all seriousness, she does not know the details of every single tiny aspect of what gets put out there, and she is not the only person making decisions on everything. She either directly or indirectly brought us Rogue One as well as the Kenobi show as well as Andor as well as Mando and TBoBF. In other words, there have been critically acclaimed and fan loved content under her leadership, as well as fan hated and critically meh projects. She’s not (always) the problem that fan bros like to claim she is. Lots and lots of people work on these projects. She’s just doing her job as well as anyone in that position likely would.

3. What is the worst part of canon?

I’m going to go with something that I figured out today as I’ve been rewatching both the Sequels and the OT—I started with The Force Awakens and was trying to decide why some parts of this movie are so freaking great and others fall just completely flat, especially compared to the original it’s styling itself after, A New Hope. There are lots of points I could make here especially related to Kylo Ren and Finn, but I had this revelation today for something that bothers me.

In TFA, and other modern Star Wars projects, there’s so much exposition where a character is essentially explaining themselves to the audience via a monologue to another character, but the topic isn’t necessary to their interaction or the scene. Whether it’s bringing in “fan service” moments or trying to explain 20 years of backstory that we’re never going to be shown on screen, too many things are just spouted off and/or overexplained for the audience’s benefit.

Whereas in ANH, everything we learn about the Force, Anakin, Luke, Han, Han’s debts, who Jabba is….it all comes from natural conversations between two characters. It doesn’t just feel like it’s for our benefit, it feels natural for both characters to be adding in these details or talking about certain things. And if it’s not something that these characters would need to say to each other in a particular scene, we don’t find out more details until we need to know.

I wish that modern script writing took into account that audiences are intelligent, we can have patience, and we can watch a story unfold without knowing everything up front. (I know, I know, Star Wars Twitter would beg to disagree with me). I just want to watch a story unfold, not be lectured at or be patted on the head through a screen. The good old adage “show, don’t tell.”

#that got a little heated #I probably have more specific worst canon moments #but that’s what stood out to me today #asks answered #ask game #choose violence ask game

[angelasscribbles]

Hii 🥰

Would your MC(s) / OC(s) ever play a game of who knows who better? And if so what would be the questions / answers?

And who would know who better?

Forgive the lateness of my response lol. I made a mood board and everything! Though I have written others, these are my primary characters who end up with each other in a variety of combinations depending on the series.

I’m not sure if any of my characters would ever play this game but that's okay, I’m going to answer for them.....

Bad Romance Riley x Liam

Riley knows him best, we see this time and again with little things like telling him to go take a shower when he’s stressed (because she knows it will calm him), for making him his favorite drink when he’s having a meltdown, etc.

Liam’s complete lack of understanding how she works was the root of a lot of their issues early on, but eventually he got it right.

Bad Romance Max x Liam

Max, he just seems to be the wind beneath everyone’s wings in this one.

Bad Romance Riley x Max

Max. When she was asking what the fuck was wrong with her for having feelings for multiple people, he explained polyamory to her.

Bad Romance Riley x Rashad

I think we have a tie! They are sympatico on every level. They’d make a great couple expect neither of them wants/needs a commitment from the other. Just another area where they are in perfect synch.

Bad Romance Drake x Riley

Hmmmm…. I really don’t know. They were so volatile and combustible early on that I’d have to say they were equally clueless, but I might have to give this one to Riley. She pretty much has his number by Bad Romance Continues but despite being attuned to her moods, her unpredictability still keeps him on his toes both romantically and professionally.

The Agreement Riley x Liam

Riley, end of story. Liam was a clueless idiot in the beginning. He did finally get it right but not before his behavior pushed her away from him and into Drake’s arms.

The Agreement Riley x Drake

Drake, no contest. He watched what Liam put her through, was there for her and just supported her like a boss.

Heir Apparent Riley x Drake

I think they are both still learning, having gotten married less than a year after meeting and after only a few weeks of actual dating. Bad decision probably, but I followed the canon timeline here.

Heir Apparent Riley x Liam

While no longer a couple, they will be coparenting for a long damn time. Riley knows Liam better, she saw and understood how his obligations to the crown had and would continue to come between them. Liam is slowly starting to understand what she needed from him and that he really isn’t able to give it.

Savage Love Riley x Liam

Ah, finally here’s a series where Liam knows Riley better than she knows him and I’d go so far as to say better than she knows herself. He sees through her gruff exterior. He understands that her “I don’t get attached” philosophy is really a “I must protect my heart” philosophy.

Savage Love Riley x Drake

I think this one goes to Riley, marginally. He’s still taking her at her word about the not getting attached thing and losing his mind watching Liam get away with stepping across those boundaries she says she wants. He wants to step over them as well, but he’s afraid to.

Forbidden Passion Liam x Riley

Riley knows Liam better, hands down. Or at least she did when it started. By the end he obviously learned a lot about his new bride.

Forbidden Passion Drake x Riley

Drake, easily. His borderline obsession in this one means that he is hyper focused on her and her every need. 

Unbreakable Riley x Liam and Riley x Drake

I say tie all the way around. From My Best Friends Girl and Three Weeks in Ramsford through Complicated they are getting to know each other and learning how to navigate a tricky situation. By Hinge, they know each other very well and have a fully functioning, healthy relationship.

Unbothered Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake

Riley understands both these men very well and uses that to her advantage. They are both completely clueless about what goes on in her head.

Secrets

Does anybody really know anybody in this one?

Royal Retribution Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake

I think they are still learning about each other and it’s fairly even.

Royal Retribution Drake x Liam

Tie. They have been best friends since the age of six, lovers since sixteen and professionally they practically read each other’s minds.

Lavender and Crimson Drake x Riley

Hmm. Riley. Drake was so fucking clueless and stupid in this one.

Star Crossed Drake x Riley

Tie. Eventually.

A Fervid Fixation Drake x Riley

I think these two were both a hot mess. Drake with his crippling insecurity and Riley never fully knowing which man was telling her the truth about everything, but simply choosing to believe him because she wanted him.

Unexpected Riley x Liam

Riley 1000%, poor Liam has no idea about her true nature. Not yet anyway. Lol.

Unexpected Riley x Max

Again, it’s Riley. Clearly. Max is a stumbling mess, never even having been with a woman before. Especially one who enjoys torturing him, both psychologically and sexually.

The De Facto Queen Drake x Riley

So there’s only one chapter up so far. It’s really too early to tell. But I’m leaning toward Drake.

The De Facto Queen Liam x Riley

Technically they are in the past and again, there’s only one chapter up. They seem perfectly in synch when working together though, so we’ll see.

Dark Elf Liam x Riley, Drake x Riley

Oh, no one knows or trusts anyone in this yet. Everyone has their own nefarious, ulterior motives and no one is telling anyone anything.

In Your Room Leo x Drake

Toss up. They are both still being pig headed about even admitting their feelings.

Leo & Liv: Leo x Olivia

Neither. They hadn’t seen each other in five years. They were best friends as children. They have an undeniable physical attraction as adults that seems to have Liv running scared (that and her feelings for Liam). So they have to get to know each other all over again.

#angelasscribbles #answered asks #who knows who better #the royal romance #trr

[saintsenara]

10, 16, 21? :)

Not on the list, but I’m curious if there’s any ship or character that you liked at one time, but no longer like, or at least now avoid, due to their fandom characterization?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

the answer to the final question is that i'll try most things, and that while i dislike a lot of popular fanon characterisation - especially of sirus - it doesn't put me off reading e.g. wolfstar if it's recommended to me by someone whose opinion i trust.

but. it's fair to say that i avoid most things which feature hermione prominently. she's by far my least favourite main character in canon, but i can at least value that she's an extremely morally complicated person. but fanon hermione, who has never done anything wrong in her life, sends me running in the opposite direction.

10. what is the worst part of fanon?

weasley bashing, especially in relation to ron.

so often ron is turned into either a sentient potato who can do nothing but eat or a violent boor who can’t wait to say mudblood and beat hermione up for wanting to be something than a housewife (or sometimes, if the author’s feeling indecisive, both).

but ron is a legend. he’s emotionally mature, kind, funny, loyal, rational, an excellent strategist, and a fully-realised human being who fucks up and then tries to make amends. his love for harry and hermione is astonishing, neither of them would be alive without him, and he deserves more respect.

the same is true of his family - especially molly, who gets a really bad showing in so much fan-fiction [my unpopular opinion? she’s right to tell sirius off! good for her for being the only adult in the series who doesn’t automatically accept the idea that children eventually having to fight is a good or inevitable thing!]. the weasleys are iconic and harry would be nowhere without them, and fics which jettison them as soon as possible so harry can become friends with someone richer need to tighten up.

16. what is a trope, characterisation, headcanon etc. that you can’t understand why people like?

preternaturally suave fanon snape.

in the grand scheme of things, i blame the films for this [my other unpopular opinion? alan rickman had no idea how to play snape! sue me!], but it’s something which has really found its way into snape-centric romance stuff in fan-fic. i’m sure some people must really like the idea of snape being brooding and hot and an attentive, chivalrous partner who sends flowers daily just because - to each their own - but i prefer my snape feral and grimy.

[i also really don’t like the fact that suave snape is usually presented with a caveat that he’s actually hot and harry was just being a dick - i’m sure harry’s description of snape isn’t particularly kind, but also unattractive, weird men are just as deserving of love as gorgeous ones. let snape be ugly and fuck.]

21. what part of canon do you think is overhyped?

i literally don't give a shit about hedwig dying. oops.

#choose violence ask game #asks answered

[yaut-jaknowit]

Out Together, Molded to One

A'jiadh (OC Yautja, male) x Casey (OC human, male, they/them)

Word Count: 4523

Summary: Over their time together, Casey and A'jiadh grow close, very close. Casey is conflicted on their feelings, with an alien. Yet, that didn't seem to bother them later on. ;)

Little note: please use lube. Spit isn’t enough unless you want the pain, then by all means, go right ahead. Spit isn’t a good lubrication. For the betterment of both parties or more, use lube, please.

SMUT DOWN BELOW

18+ only

Minors Do Not Interact

Part 1 Part 2

Masterlist

High above, the moon kissed the earth’s crest with soft light. Gentle, sweet. Something that could rival what went on below its bright eyes. The countless days that have passed with these two individuals have created something neither saw coming. Were they scared? Both were unsure. It was the unknown which gave them the right to be cautious and uneased.

A sigh escaped the human. Hours had passed yet sleep didn’t welcome them. To be honest, it seemed to repeal at them. Their dark eyes watched, pupils blown, the bright stars high above. The only thing that they could bare to stare at.

Except.

The human’s eyes drifted over to the green mottled beast close by. So many thoughts already popping up in Casey’s head at the sight. A couple causing a blush to appear. Impossible. Jade would never. He could barely speak English, and probably pities them. Another sigh passed their cracked lips.

They were destined to die in this forest; and they hadn’t accepted that yet. Their family back home… Had they given up their search? Had they even found their crashed plane? Or did they think Casey was also under water, similar to their co-pilot? Did they even care?

That struck home.

Tears were already prickling the corner of their eyes. No matter the tally marks, it was painful memories to think of their life. Now, past life.

Finally, they rose. Their eyes snapping over at Jade – the syllables far too complicated to speak – and watched him for a few long moments. No changes in his breathing or even twitching from his eyelids. They needed a distraction. Jade maybe a little concerned if he doesn’t find them in their original spot but the human couldn’t sleep. It was one of those nights.

Unlike their hometown, the jungle came alive. So many noises and shadowy movements.  If they were anyone else or smart, in general, the human would’ve most likely stayed with the apex predator for the rest of the night. But desperation can drive someone to do an action so unlike them. This human wasn’t any different.

And they knew the former fact. No matter how long they’ll stay in this jungle be it to mercy or a miracle, seeing it this way was scary.

Birds would chirp, cawing and screeching. Bugs would chitter and creak. Apes and monkeys howling and grunting. The true predators were silent though. Everyone knew this and also knew to be careful, timid at each step.

So did Casey. Multiple days has Jade shown the human where traps laid. Many would leave them wounded significantly. A death that they wouldn’t accept. They rather be killed by Jade then by a tension trap set up by the beast. One wrong step and the human could lose their life to something easily avoidable.

Water canister in hand, they reached down and allowed new water to enter the holder. The liquid washed their cool hands, a small refresher. One that made the human to take in a deep breath. Their lungs expanding fully, nose filling of the jungle’s scents.

This walk had calmed them, but they didn’t feel like returning, just yet. Something inner told the human not to. Why? They had no clue and weren’t about to disobey an instinct that’s kept them alive this long.

.

Countless days passed. No end in sight. Not that the human was looking for. At this point, it became hopeless. All they had was Jade.

Speak of the devil, the creature’s eyes were watching them closely. Casey squirmed in their spot. Was something wrong? Had Jade changed his mind? Did he no longer wish for the human’s presence? That thought made their tense shoulders to sag, not in relief unfortunately. Was this thei- Jade stood in front of them. Easily towering over them.

They craned their neck back, eyes gazing up the massive creature. But it wasn’t fear that swelled in the lower pit of the human’s stomach. It was further south.

But the creature stayed put. His unblinking eyes watching, staring, looking. This caused their gaze to drift down. “Luk. Meh,” his grumbly voice spoke. They heard his voice under a dozen times over the course of at least three weeks but this time, it effected the human. In a way that extremely embarrassed them. A blush swiftly making its way to grow on their face.

There was a couple moments of stillness between the two. Then, Jade half growled, half purred – a noise they heard even less. They tensed on the spot. Had they done something wrong? This had to be-Jade’s rough and textured hand gripped their chin with a timidness never seen before. He simply lifted Casey’s head, a movement they didn’t fight.

This forced the human to gaze up, no other option but to stare up at his blazing sea foam eyes. They gulped; a lump swallowed only to return. Then, the human noticed something detrimental.

The log they had sat upon gave them about a foot of leverage. It was perfect to be crotch level with the brown clothing encasing Jade’s waist. They swallowed hard again. No other option but to gaze into Jade’s burning eyes. They darted across the human’s face multiple times. To the nonalien, it seemed to be searching for something that they had no clue on.

Jade moved in the opposite direction that Casey thought he would. They were further encased into the musky odor. It wasn’t the most pleasant but there was a scent hidden that drew them closer. Something that Casey didn’t know they were doing until it was too late.

Another husky growl pierced the tense air, one a knife could cut through. They couldn’t help the shiver that raked through their weakening body.

It couldn’t hurt? What did they have to lose?

A sharp talon dragged across the human’s face, leaving the skin turning red. Without meaning to when the digit stopped on their lips, they allowed entrance to him. They sucked on it, careful of the sharp claw attacked to the end. Jade’s orbs darkened in the jungles light, his body wounding up like a spring.

Two out of the four talons pressed dangerously against the human’s soft, supple skin. Not that Casey was scared about Jade injuring them. “Good,” he rumbled. His voice strained, his free hand turned into a fist, shaking at his side.

Casey pulled back. A string of salvia connected the two of them. “Are… are you,” but they couldn’t finish their words. Neither could their eyes meet Jade’s. No way. They couldn’t, Jade wouldn’t do that with them. Would he?

Without another sound, the beast wrapped a hand around Casey’s neck and swiftly pinned him to the jungles floor. Sticks and rocks dug uncomfortably into their back at the new position. “Jade!” they gasped, their hand grasped Jade’s wrist. “What-what-what are you doing?!” The mottled green creature purred softly, limb still encased their throat.

“Wan’,” he grumbled. A powerful leg pushed the log away and gave room for him to take a knee between the human’s legs. Arousal protruded in the air, incredibly strong to the Yautja. His tongue came out all on its own, scenting the wonderful smell all over again. He purred again.

Dark eyes widen at the words spoke in the quiet jungle. No, they didn’t hear him right. Impossible. “You, you want me?” they squeaked, shoulders scrunched together as their hands played in front of them.

He rolled his eyes, tresses swaying and brushing against their soft skin. Human words didn’t come to him, instead, his head dipped. The alien before him tensed underneath his hardened body. All he wanted to do was show them what he could do. “But why?” Casey dared ask.

This burly alien who was a master hunter was before them, asking them to… Their cock twitched in their cloth pants. Unfortunately, their hips also jutted up slightly, but the movement didn’t go unnoticed. Much to Casey’s disappointment. And, they stopped their struggles. They’ve been stuck out in this jungle for at least four months. Hormones were to be blamed. Yeah, that was it. Their hardening penis didn’t agree.

Another roll of bright eyes was their answer. “’Alk ‘oo mush,” Jade stated and bent his face to be closer to the human. Any other Yautja may have been disgusted at the sight but to him, Casey was worthy to breed.

Arousal overwhelmed his senses, causing his hips to hump dryly at the leg between them. Paya, if the majority of his kind, either male or female, were to scent the human before him. They would whole heartily agree with his actions. They smelled so good. What about taste?

But he couldn’t, not yet. Casey was worthy. A’jiadh stopped himself, eyes gazing up to the human’s peering down at him. “Do yoo wan’ meh?”

God, Casey just wanted the earth to open up and swallow them whole. Their ears couldn’t believe what was just said. A whimper escaped them. One that Jade responded well to. He nuzzled his brow against theirs, bright eyes watching them. Their hips thrusted up again, a futile attempt for friction, for relief. Those words of agreement threatened to escape. It was far too humiliating, especially to say it something nonhuman. What were they about to do?!

Jade growled but didn’t move. This was worse than that female that had led him on for days but never allowed him. His code enforced into his mind since birth. They maybe human, didn’t mean he couldn’t respect them. “’eak.”

This time, it was hard to decipher what their alien friend was attempting to speak in their language. Their head tilted. Leaves and twigs crunched underneath them. They shifted their whole body to ease some of the discomfort. Which Jade pressed himself against Casey more but then backed off. If they didn’t want, he couldn’t force himself upon them. No matter how much his penis ached in his sheath. But he a needed answer now, for his sake. “Answer.”

Huh?! Jade wanted Casey to say it out loud. Can’t he see how much they want him. Fuck them, Casey thought. Their head thumping against the jungle’s leaf littered floor. A whine beginning to build up in their throat. “Okay! Okay, I want you too. Please,” Casey broke, eyes gazing up at the bright blue sky. A flock of birds flying above in the distance.

That’s all that A’jiadh wanted. A snarled pierced the energy filled air. A’jiadh’s mind screamed at him with victory. Finally! Finally.

“But how? There’s no…” Just get it out. “There’s no lube.” It felt like they were having a heat stroke from both internal and external forces. Fuck. God, they wanted him. At this point, it was undeniable. The tent growing in Casey’s pants was clear to the both of them. Casey’s mind was going wild, thinking of how many of their kinks were about to be checked off.

A deep, scratchy chuckle followed their words. Jade finally released the human’s neck, giving them opportunity to fully breathe. But he didn’t leave, Paya no. He would never. His partner didn’t need to know just yet. He may want a fuck but Jade was going to savor this sweet piece of meat before him.

“Jade? Buddy?” Casey questioned, their eyes unable to leave Jade’s face.

A’jiadh groaned at the use of his name – mostly – and lifted his head. Then, the predator struck.

One hand simply grasping Casey’s two far above their head. Sharp tusks grazing against tanned skin. A long, snake-like tongue tasting salty flesh. The feeling one they hadn’t experienced in a long time. Their reactions direct evidence to that fact.

“Oh, Jade,” they whined, back arched in a futile attempt for more attention. Goosebumps expanded down their arms and prickled across the expanse of their chest.

More purrs erupted from the creature’s chest. The strange vibrations rolled across their skin like waves and reached their perky nipples faintly. “Jade, lick-lick-“ come on, just get it out- “my nipples. Please.” The rumbling only grew deeper.

His tongue dragged over the human’s skin towards what they requested of him. Right before he touched it though, Jade pulled away. Casey’s eyes snapped open. A pathetic cry escaping their mouth. “Hey! What-“ Two fingers were shoved into the human’s mouth. “Mpf!”

“’Alk ‘oo mush,” he repeated then let his tongue circle the dark patch of skin that had hardened long before consent was given. The high-pitch whine only stirred awake his cock. Not yet, his mind supplied. It would hurt them, not in a good way.

When A’jiadh deemed a point had been made, he pulled away his mouth, receiving another noise of compliant. With the hand encasing Casey’s wrists, Jade let go to rip away the cloth pants he made for them. The human fought against him but it was too late; the pants were thrown to the side. Another whine, one that he ignored. Humans and nudity. The Yautja would never come to understand.

He removed the two fingers. “That wasn’t necessary,” pouted the human. Jade only chuckled at the words then got to work.

With their free hands, Casey finally was able to let them roam over the tough hide of Jade. Mild grey tresses brushed against their stomach, almost drawing a giggle from them. The strange dreads were warm against their skin. It captured their attention. To the point that Casey reached out and claimed one in their hand.

Jade completely stopped moving besides his hips jutting again. His eyes nearly closing at the soft, delicate touch of the human’s paw. And Casey caught on. “You like this, Jade?” They leaned up to rest on an elbow, ignoring a twig digging into the soft flesh there. Their thumb stroking against the strange textured hair. Jade purred louder, claws scratching against their thigh. “Oh, yeah you do.”

A dangerous look over came Jade’s lustful expression. It caused Casey to freeze, eyes watching the predator.

Then, he moved rapidly, desperate.

No warning at all. Casey was bent in half, forced to return their upper back against the ground. “Whoa!” They yelped out, hands scrambled for purchase but only to be filled with leaves and dirt. The part of their back that wasn’t baring most of their bodies weight was partially resting against a hardened body.

Sharp tusks, with mindfulness, scratched against the tensed flesh of their ass. “Ca-careful of the teeth!” Jade rolled his eyes, tongue finally licking up the human’s right check. They returned with a shuttering breath, one that he was looking for.

The lubrication from his sheath would aid them but it was better to safe than sorry. Something his mentor taught him. A’jiadh did wish he had thought about this before hand or made a stop at his ship.

It was far too late though.

When the first swipe of a tongue ran over their entrance, they tensed. One of their hands found Jade’s thigh and their blunt nail dug into the hard muscles. Jade moved closer; their bodies now pressed against one another. “Relax.” They did their best against the muscle now pressing against their hole. “Good.” That caused Casey’s dick to jump. Jade chuckled.

Their other hand came up and was about to wrap around his aching cock when it was slapped away. By accident, Jade’s hand hit their weeping dick. “Oh, fuck!” Their hips harshly thrusted forward even at the awkward angle.

One of A’jiadh’s upper mandibles lifted. Then, he truly got to work on his prize.

No matter what, Casey needed more than the tongue against their hole. Even one stroke of their penis would have them coming. Just one. And they tried twice, each time a harsh slap to their intruding hand. Both incidents result in more cock slapping, but it wasn’t enough!

Nearing the end of the torture in A’jiadh’s, Casey’s hand on his thigh began to wander. Not that Jade paid attention; not when he had his prize on his tongue.

Slick like a sly snake, Casey’s hand dipped into the waist band of Jade’s shorts. The predator thrusted his hips forward at the movement, tongue slowing for only a moment. Their limbs continued until it found a slit which caused them to completely freeze. What.

A’jiadh was female?! Then why was she…? This absolutely confused the human beyond belief. And Jade noticed. He pulled away to stare down at the human, head quirked to the side. Their hand still on his slit. All within reason, he pushed his hips to pin the hand.

The head of his cock began to emerge and pressed against Casey’s palm. At this point, the human eyes looked to be on the verge of popping out. One thing that Jade didn’t understand for a few moments. Then it hit him. His eyes were drawn up to the similar appendage close to his face. Then he chuckled again.

“This isn’t funny! I’m really confused on what you have,” they whined and struggled to get out of the predator’s grasp. Which, Jade does let go only to stand up.

Now, with the massive alien towered over them, they couldn’t help their cock jumping at the sight. Jade didn’t stand still though and began to undress himself. The knot on his right side undone to get rid of the cloth that hung mildly on his hips. Next, he simply got off the metal plating that protected his testicles before he dropped the loincloth.

He stood in all of his glory, every scar and little wounds bared to the worthy partner he was about to breed. The head of the softly glowing green cock pushed further underneath the amazed gaze of Casey.

“A sheath. Goddamn, I’m too stupid for my own good,” they muttered and got to their knees. Leaves crackling underneath them.

Casey timidly reached out, rough hands wrapping around the clearly alien cock. Green, glowing, and the lower end twitched with more movement than they’ve ever seen before. He looked to be modeled off of a canine’s cock, knot and all but the soft spikes that ran down each side was one give away. They easily felt the strange fleshy scales that lined the bottom of his penis. Alien. Completely alien.

The predator reacted in a way that pleased them. Hips stuttering against their grasp. He rested a hand against Casey’s head, fingers running through the locks. They were average for their kind but the sight of their hand barely wrapped around him made his blood sing.

Without another sound, A’jiadh snatched them from the ground held them. Both legs captured his hips, heels digging into the small of his back. One hand grasped the plush flesh of the human’s butt cheek and slightly spread it in the process.

Their hands scrambled for purchase, one wrapped around a tress and the other on his shoulder. The lubrication from Jade’s penis caused a sheen to appear by accident on where Casey grabbed.

Something warm and moving twitched against their hole. In reaction, they tensed, eyes wide but not with fear. They’ve done this before but this was… different. To put it in simple words. Jade purred, forehead pushed against Casey’s. “Gonna ‘ake care, good care of oo.” They trusted him.

“I know.” They rubbed their thumb against the grey tress. “You can go. I’m ready for you, Jade. Just go… go slow, please.” The predator smiled, tongue licking up their face.

Unlike the usual mating process of Yautjas, A’jiadh was gentle. The head of his cock pushing passed the tight hole and drew pathetic whimpers from the human. Ones that he drank up like sweet, sugar water.

He purred as well. Not steady. Instead, he stuttered and falter as he pushed on, hips fighting against the urge to bury knot deep in his ooman.

It’s not like Casey was paying attention to that outside world. For the most part, they felt that familiar pain that they’ve almost come know. Their hands clenched, white knuckling even after Jade stopped at the raised ball of flesh. “Good ooman, my good ooman. Pauk, am gonna breed oo. Mine.” The alien licked up the tears that Casey didn’t even know had fallen. His, now, free hand petting their back before slithering to their front.

The limb gently wrapped around the human’s penis, feeling it twitch underneath his touch. His purr deepened with a stutter when Casey clenched in reaction. Jade’s own moan escaping him.

To distract himself and possibly ease the human, he slowly stoked up the hardened dick in his grasp. Casey threw their head back, hips involuntarily thrusting against Jade’s hand.

An explosion of pain-pleasure shock through their body. But they weren’t ready. “Stop, Jade! Please, not yet,” they whimpered. The hand on A’jiadh’s shoulder pushed his away from their cock. It was too much. Jade immediately listened to them, going against his own body’s need. Instead, he purred his apology and kept as still as possible.

A gentle paw returned to petting their back in soothing strokes. The least he could do after pulling that stunt. Casey also had their hand go back to his shoulder, the other rubbing maddeningly against his tresses. Paya, they were lucky he had great patience. Or else Casey wasn’t going to be walking in the morning… to be honest, they probably won’t be anyhow.

Once all the pain had receded, Casey tested with a gentle roll of their hips. A pleasure-filled moan tore at their throat. He filled them whole heartly and pressed against a delicious spot inside of them. They gazed into the eyes of Jade. “Now, you can fuck me.”

A’jiadh snarled deep from his chest. But from past encounter’s he decided against fully ramming into the small ooman from the start. No, he carefully pulled out to the midpoint then slowly pushed back in. The human keened, the noise he consumed hastily. He wanted more.

The feeling of alien cock inside of them was something they don’t think they’ll ever forget. The spikes felt strange at first, especially when Jade would pull out but the friction felt amazing as he gained speed. Casey bucked their hips to the best of their ability, but the movement was thwarted when Jade stopped. “What the fuck?!” snarled Casey.

Any word went over the yautja’s head as he moved the human like his own doll. Both of their legs were casted over his forearms now. This position limited what they could do, what he wanted. Casey was going to take what he was given. He turned his piercing gaze down at the whimpering, horny ooman. “Oo will ‘ake wha’ I give,” he snarled and emphasize with a harsh snap of his hips.

Casey threw their head back again, now at the full mercy of their partner. A low groan passed their lips with the column of their throat exposed. An opportunity that Jade wasn’t going to pass.

His hips continued their punishing speed, hard and fast. Dangerous tusks spreading to encase the vulnerable jugular. He allowed his tongue to appear and lick a strip up the ooman’s throat. Salt tasted on the muscle and Jade licked again, savoring the shiver he received.

With his head buried underneath the human’s chin and cock repeatedly thrusting into the tight, warm hole of them, A’jiadh mewled. “Breed yoo. Gonna fill yoo, breed yoo, ooman. My ooman,” he rasped against their throat.

Their eyes shot open. Those words hit home. Casey’s hand moved down and wrapped around their own dick. A desperate moan leaving them. Their other hand clawed down a pec of Jade’s. The pleasure increasing at their limb. “Fu-fuck, Jade. I want you to, please,” begged Casey, the speed only building up more.

A breeze washed over them, the human shivered. Which the predator somehow drew them in closer. “Gonna ‘ake my seed, li’le ma’e? ‘Ake my kno’?” A’jiadh snarled and felt his knot growing in size. His instinct screaming to knot them, but not yet. Not yet.

“Yes, please! Shit, please, breed me.” Claws scratched against fine skin, blood droplets pooling afterwards. “Do wh-ah! Whatever you want!” Jade’s hand on their back came around, pushed their own away, and grasped their cock. That made them melt further into the mottle green creature.

With a snarl, A’jiadh snapped his hips all the strength his body possessed. The ball of flesh forced passed the tight ring and ensnared into the human’s body once and for all. Sharp deadly talons pierced their supple skin, blood freely flowing from the new wounds now. To finish their mating, he released Casey’s throat and latched on to their shoulder instead. The strong inner jaw dug his teeth to ensure a mark and scar.

Casey screamed, blunt nails digging into the flesh of Jade. The pain overriding any pleasure, but it wound their body up even more. Underneath it all, they faintly felt a great amount of pressure where the two were connected. Nasty thoughts that fit the situation filled their mind full. All of their muscles tensed and waited to snap at the next second.

Then, all they could see was white light and hear static. If this was being with Jade for rest of their days, they’ll die a happy slut. Bred and filled. They felt their body involuntarily twitch at that thought.

The first thing they truly felt was a comforting stroke down the length of their spine. Whatever they were pressed against vibrated soothingly that they almost drifted off in post-sex nap. But a sharp discomfort brought them back. They squirmed in place, it only increased as they grew aware to the surrounding.

A strong hand held them against the rumbling chest, forcing them still. “Calm. Don’ move,” Jade’s familiar voice grumbled. They whined, hips twitching against their will.

“It-“ they swallowed thickly, throat aching, “it hurts.”

A’jiadh’s purred increased. One of his hands went to Casey’s lower back. His other laid against their cheek, thumb stroking along their cheek bone. “I know. My kno’. Yoo small. I’ will go down soon. I’ve go’ yoo li’le ma’e. Res’.” That had to be the most words they’ve ever heard him speak. And the words, it made them smile gently.

Casey lifted their head and ignored the pain coming from their shoulder; it felt heavy but they powered through the wonderful exhaustion and discomfort.

The two stared at each other, both with glazed over eyes. “I never thought my dreams would ever come true, but looky here, knotted by an alien,” muttered Casey as their hand ghosted over the scar on his cheek then dragged a finger along the golden metal ring through his lower left tusk.

All they received was a breathy chuckle and a shake of the predator’s head. “Good boy, Jade… Good boy.” Then, Casey slumped against the muscular chest of Jade’s. The last thing they felt was cooling cum dribbling from them and Jade stroking their cheek.

#yautja #yautja x oc #predator #short story #oc #A'jiadh #Casey #male predator #male human #they them #yautja smut #predator smut #smut #alien smut #gay smut #gay human #gay alien

[thefirstknife]

I think one reason people are very polarized on LF is that, not only is it a very fine line to walk between "too self-contained" and "too reliant on external content", but there's a large borderlands around that line on either side that fall into the realm of "personal taste". Some people like things that are more self-contained, and some prefer things that are more externally interlinked. And, honestly, even at the extreme ends of "purely self-contained" or "purely empty filler reliant on external stuff to enjoy" you *still* have people who prefer one or the other and they're not objectively bad. It's a complicated matter of balance and taste. And I think more people need to let go of the idea that their taste is objectively correct for things like this. And I say this as somebody who did find that my taste and the devs' vision didn't quite line up this time. It happens! It doesn't mean we need to get nasty about it like a lot of people are doing... :(

I definitely agree! It's one of the reasons why I find most of the discussions on this topic to be really pointless a lot of the time. It's just people screaming over one another about things that are incredibly subjective while claiming they're not. Everyone thinks they're right, on top of a real issue in balancing that line.

For a lot of people, it's really frustrating that the game expects them to play just Destiny in order to understand everything. And then for a lot of other people who DO play just Destiny (or simply have more time/money), it's frustrating when there's breaks and content droughts and when there's seasons that end up feeling meaningless. And a lot of people who are in between! Bungie can never satisfy all of them. Someone will always feel left out.

Actually one of my issues with the entire Witch Queen year was that the expansion itself was a banger and had a lot of stuff in there and a lot of further hints. But then the seasons did not really focus on any of those questions at all. We didn't get more insight into the Lucent Hive, we didn't get more about Savathun's meddling with the Collapse, we didn't get anything more about her since she died, we didn't get anything substantial about Xivu either and time is running out. We had stuff that was setting up plot points for Lightfall, but they were also not fully expanded on.

I would've LOVED if all seasons in WQ were more narratively important and connected. If every season we got a fresh new hint about Savathun's plans and schemes, about things she's done, about a whole new set of Hive that, for all intents and purposes, we should be trying to understand and get close to. I'm definitely not the only one; I've seen a lot of people lamenting the lack of information and lore about the Lucent Hive and what they're doing.

If Bungie is entirely truthful and we will for real get into the thick of it during the seasons this year, I actually prefer that. It means that I have something to look forward to during the whole year and that we will slowly be given information about burning questions that will keep us entertained as we prepare for The Final Shape. Because a lot of questions from WQ have still not been answered and aren't directly relevant anymore so who knows when they will be up for answering.

I also understand people who just don't like this style at all. And neither of us is inherently right or wrong. So when people go online and insist about "bad writing," it's really silly. And ultimately, Bungie can't really cater to us both. It's a strange place to be in and I think we should keep giving Bungie feedback. In a normal way, of course. The type of outrage that Lightfall caused has not been pleasant at all. We can definitely let Bungie know that they maybe pushed one side too much over the line without being nasty.

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 spoilers #lightfall #lightfall spoilers #ask

[honestlyvan]

Talk to me about Isurd and bureaucracy

Oh boy, so, I think Lambda's issues with structural inefficiencies and bureaucratic overhead produces a direct parallel between the way Taion and Isurd responded to Nimue's death. After all, we know that commanders get pretty free reign in how they run their colonies, and there are far less subtle examples of "the thing that is Wrong with this colony is also what is Wrong with its commander" in the game, so this isn't even too aggresive of a read, IMO.

For Taion, his bad coping is pretty front and center -- he's got a strong need for control, but also little faith in his own judgement; he's suspicious of other people's conclusions, but also defers to them when it comes to decision-making. He can't even fully stand by his own conclusions most of the time, because the more critical it is to get something right, the worse the runaway anxiety gets, and the more he slips into analysis paralysis. Taion doesn't trust himself, and doesn't trust anyone else -- so no decision he makes can truly be grounded, everything is up for second-guessing, and he can never have peace knowing he made the right call.

Isurd, on the surface, is kind of the opposite. He's very decisive, to the point where he tends to pull ahead of the pack because he's already two steps to a solution while everyone else is still catching up to a problem. Undoubtedly some of the problems with Lambda's system are that peacetime operations are more complicated and they're simply not equipped to handle them at this scale, but a larger problem is that even while authority diffuses down the chain, if there is a fuck-up, ultimately the responsibility will be his. Absolutely nobody is allowed to make judgement calls unless he's personally appointed them, and even then he retains a veto. Isurd also doesn't trust himself, and also doesn't trust anyone else -- so no decision can be made without a second opinion, and he has to run himself ragged not to slow the system he's set up down.

It reads as a kind of hypervigilance -- neither of them has fully dealt with their trauma, and so are mentally braced to react to a similar situation. Now, I do think to an extent both of them probably just are like that, naturally -- Isurd is the strategist of the generation, after all, and Taion is very curious and intellectually engaged in general, they're absolutely the kind of people where "comparing notes" is a kind of love language -- but it just kind of goes to show that sometimes bad coping looks like good coping, but too much. They're overprepared to respond to their own judgement failing, and it's wearing both of them down.

I think this reading of the situation also nicely harmonises with how little presence Isurd has in Lambda's quest line. By his own admission, he's been going through the war essentially on autopilot since Nimue's death, letting the problem grown unfettered just because he naturally tends towards hogging responsibilities. Delegating and leaving actual decision-making to other people is a step forward -- or at least a step sideways -- for him, and leaving Lambda and having to just trust that they'll be okay without his supervision would further help with that. He's at least trying to disengage, even if he's very bad at it, being a dumb moron workaholic who has to make everything into a production.

#van's answers #Xenoblade Chronicles 3 #Taion #Isurd #quetzalpapalotl #NATURALLY I write Isurd with MUCH WORSE coping than this #because characters I like exist exclusively to suffer for my entertainment lmao #after I'm finished with the fic I'm gonna post the big brainstorming document I've been keeping b/c I genuinely think it's some good stuff #like the one big weakness with this read is that Isurd is generally pretty chill and not really that uptight #At least not compared to how I'd expect someone with this level of control issues to be #I'm making the best of the text here get off my goat a Van's gotta eat #so I just chalk it up to a combination of 'genuinely just being genius level smart but not wanting to condescend to people about it' #which is the true source of his ridonkulous work ethic exarcerbated by the batshit high amount of energy #I am once again forced to conclude that I have A Type