#Jack is SO eldest sibling coded

[shitpostingkats]

Feel free to ignore this, but I have to ask since I've been rewatching yugioh 5ds and you're one of the very few blogs I've searched that mentioned Satellite Bros age order. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this and if you know other blogs that talk about it.

WHY WOULD I EVER IGNORE THIS ITS ONE OF MY FAVORITE THINGS. THANK YOU SO MUCH <3

*takes deep breath* ok SO

Word of god canon is that the age order is Jack (19), Yusei (18), and Crow (17), at the start of the series.

But while you can make an argument that Yusei would have records, people who knew when he was born, or at least a birth certificate, Jack and Crow are orphans. If Jack is indeed 19, then he would have been roughly a year old when Zero Reverse happened, likely killing his parents, at the very least destroying a massive amount of city infrastructure. You tell me Jack knows his birthday and I press (X) to doubt.

Crow is apparently canonically younger than Yusei, but. His parents also died in Zero Reverse.

This. This straight up does not work.

Also Yusei is shown to be a baby when Zero Reverse occurred and if Crow's parents did indeed die in Zero Reverse when he was under a year old he there is NO WAY he would live much longer than that. That's just. How babies work.

CROW HOGAN HAS TO BE OLDER THAN YUSEI.

I will die on this hill. I watched the show thinking Crow was the middle brother and then learned their apparent canon ages after because he has to be older than Yusei for any of his backstory to make sense. Konami can fight me on this.

NARRATIVELY they are the middle and youngest child. Jack has Past motifs, Crow is Present, and Yusei is Future. Jack and Yusei's whole dynamic is the most oldest sibling vs youngest sibling drama possible.

As for Jack, I always like to think it was his birthday like, a week before Yusei leaves Satellite, because being a Newly Minted Twenty Year Old explains everything about his personality.

#jack and crow straight up dont have birth certificates #interesting note about Yusei's birthday: it is also apparently the same day as Zero Reverse. Which also just cant be true. #I choose to interpret that as the day Martha found Yusei and thats what all her kids celebrate instead of birthdays #and at some point Yusei just forgot thats not the actual day he was born #Im sorry konami if I'm not meant to read Yusei as the youngest of the three #why have Jack and Crow shelter him from physical and emotional abuse until they have to leave him for their own reasons #leaving Yusei in a dangerous home situation that he was previously unaware of because the other two functioned as a shield #HUH KONAMI??????????? #Jack is SO eldest sibling coded #Crow is SO middle child coded #Yusei is SO youngest brother coded #I like to think Goodwin forged Jacks documents and made him like a year younger on paper just to screw with him #yugioh #yugioh 5ds #ygo 5ds #ygo #5ds #asks #answered asks #yusei fudo #jack atlas #crow hogan

[ninjakitten1699]

You know she really started out as a self insert and turned into an OC yet I don't talk about her enough

So anyways here's some info of hers down below

Name: Katherina Tanith Erebus-Lane Nicknames: Kathy, Rina Age: 17 Gender: Female Race: Human/?? Appearance: She has tan skin with long black hair and indigo eyes that she inherited from her father.

Height: 5'6" Weight: 130 lbs. Hair style: Ponytail (season one to seven) / Edgy bob (season 8-present) Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Prussian/Regal Blue (Hex Code: #00416A) Skin Tone: Cameo (#CCA289)

Weapon of choice: Mother's katana and Father's sabre. Varies most of the time. Element: Darkness Manipulation Abilities:

Shadow Generation -The power to generate shadows and darkness. (inspired by Lord Garmadon during the pilot episodes. We should really extend the use of that or give reason why he gave that up. Shade is capable of this as well but it was only ever in the mobile game.)

Shadow Camouflage - The power to become invisible while in shadows. (inspiration: Shade and the Shinobi from Samurai Jack)

Umbrakinetic Combat - The power to fuse manipulation of darkness with physical combat to create a devastating form of martial arts. (As it says on the tin)

Umbrakinetic Constructs - The ability to create objects and other constructs out of darkness. (Why her weapon choice varies. It is unknown if she could create entire structures or environments yet)

Personality: At first, she is standoffish, but getting to know her, you learn that she's been through a lot before encountering the Ninja and becoming one of the Kunoichi. She's tough but kind, known to be analytical but fun. Call her genre-savvy if you will. Occupation: Kunoichi Affiliations: The Ninja (currently), Serpentine Rebellion — through Vasuki (currently), Dragon Samurai — through her mother and "aunts" (currently), Elemental Masters (off and on) Hometown: (Spoilers)

Status: Alive Bio: Katherina here is the daughter of the previous Master of Darkness, Luther, and Clarissa, Lady Azure of the Dragon Samurai. She is their fourth child after their eldest, Xander and their twin girls, Mariana and Veronica. She lived in a city far away from the world of Ninjago with her parents having left that world behind in order to not let their young get involved with any fantastical affairs of the like. However they couldn't escape the world of fantasy after all. Katherina was open to the world and she grew up in it. One day, during one of her adventures while she was a teen, she had lost her brother due to a blast of magic and it would be sometime after the event of her loss that she would be framed for something she didn't do, due to her powers waking up after so long, and her grandparents on her mother's side had given her a way to get out of trouble. Unfortunately this would lead her back to Ninjago where she was needed the most. With her panicking and her powers sometimes lashing out with her not being taught to use them right, she was eventually found by Wu and the team of Ninja with their most recent addition, Sam, their wind kunoichi. It took Lord Garmadon to sift through the Darkness to reach Katherina. (Recalling how Leila, the former Master of Shadow had done the same for Luther, their old "friend".) Kathy would eventually be taught her powers correctly (more like without accidentally leaving a door open to Overlord, but she doesn't know that yet) and she joined the fight against the Serpentine. However, it was one night on her own that she would meet a Serpentine Hybrid who, for some reason, she felt a strong connection to and felt the need to hear him out and help him in their endeavor to take down Pythor and his followers.

Relationships:

Luther and Clarissa: Her parents. They are semi-strict types and protective of her and her siblings. The protectiveness definitely shows when they find out she's with Wu, someone they tried so hard to avoid yet somehow got circled back to. Xander: Her older brother who she looked up to. The two of them went on their own adventures through the city they lived in, encountering so much and experiencing more than their fair share together until that incident happened. Mariana and Veronica: The older twin girls. For the most part, they were cordial with her like some siblings are. They were actually studying magic and sometimes Kathy would join, trying to hang out with them and sometimes being shot down, but not maliciously. When Xander died however, their demeanor to her changed, shutting her out nearly completely until she herself disappeared one day. Samantha: A kunoichi of wind who became her friend. Vasuki: He is a Hypnobrai-Anacondrai hybrid she had followed, mistaking him for one of Pythor's followers. After hearing him out and being led to the border of their encampment, the Ninja had mistaken her for being kidnapped but they find out it's not the case. Events come to pass, and Kathy and Vasuki are inseparable to the point of when she was done helping rebuild the City of Ouroboros after the Battle of the Devourer, he ended up following her and eventually becoming her partner.

Fun Facts:

Originally, she was a self insert in an RP years ago back on DeviantArt. That was until I gave her a different name and watched other material that would make up her backstory. If you've seen my old DeviantArt journals, you'd know what I had laid out for her. However the story did change quite a bit.

She didn't actually have an official ninja suit design that wasn't customized to her. The most I ever got was her color. Now her suit is based off of several things. There's the unused Leonardo concept, Karai's armor, and that one Ninja costume from this site. That's basically the three main things that helped.

The names her family members, notably her father and brother, are called aren't their real names but by middle names.

She is a middle child. However, her younger sibling Tsukiko would have been born around the time she became a teen, aka the time her powers were presenting itself, so she didn't get much time to get to know her.

There is a reason Vasuki and Katherina already feel so familiar with each other around their first meeting. Of course, that is spoiler related and only one other person knows about it.

She only has so few abilities because her father is keeping the other half of the Element of Darkness so she cannot reach true potential until after he gives it up. (He does not give it up willingly, of course. Especially after he's learned that using too much of the Darkness Element would lead Overlord to an open door. He doesn't want that for her.)

She will get an appearance in another fic. The current Ninjago fic I'm writing is another OC, one by a friend, and I still love her so.

I was going to give her the Romanian version of her name, Catalina, but the more I thought about it, I realized she didn't really look like a Catalina, not even a Catina. Maybe if she were vastly different, I would do so but Katherina had been stuck to her for so long that it feels wrong to give her another name.

#ninjakitten’s au #ninjakitten’s ocs #ninjakitten’s art #ninjakitten’s drawings #ninjakitten draws #lego ninjago #ninjago #ninjago original character #ninjago oc #ninjago ocs #ninjago oc: katherina #original character #original characters #fan character #reposted this cause I lost the last one #edit: turns out I messed up somewhere and I had to fix one the the bulletins in the description

[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

[suremonty]

i. “the tide is turning” - roger waters // ii. “two suns in the sunset” - pink floyd // iii. “four minutes” - roger waters

( nyle dimarco, cis man, he/him ) — Look who it is! If you take a look at our database, you’ll find that MONTGOMERY “MONTY” ROMANO is a THIRTY-TW0 year old RADIO DISC JOCKEY that’s been in Chicago for TWO YEARS, OFF AND ON. According to the file, they’re a mutant on LEVEL ONE with the power of ELECTRONIC COMMUNICATION + TIME TRAVEL. That must be why they’re DEDICATED and OBSESSIVE. If you ask me, they remind me of morse code desperately tip-tip-tapping, the sole with no eyes, the desolate confines of a busy wasteland. They are affiliated with NOBODY.

QUICK FACTS:

full name: montgomery “monty” romano

date of birth: december 5th, 1934

zodiac big three: sagittarius sun, scorpio moon, libra rising

gender & pronouns: cis man & he/him

sexual orientation: straight gay bi queer

ethnicity: white ( may loves italians :\ )

nationality: american

religion: christian (protestant, very loose in his practice), starting to lean agnostic

languages spoken: english (5), asl (5), morse code - technically an alphabet (5)

enneagram: 3w2

mbti: enfp

temperament: sanguine

alignment: neutral good

ability: time travel + electronic communication

affiliation: n/a

alias: sonny/sunny

BACKSTORY:

triggers: war, nuclear wasteland, nuclear tensions, institutionalization ( very brief mention ), VERY brief mention of suicide

monty’s world was silent from the moment he entered it. he would never know it any other way. teachers tried to force him into the mold, deaf educators in the dime-a-dozen oralist schools teaching him English, speech, and as-good-as-it-could-be lipreading, all while restricting the usage of ASL at best, forbidding it at worst. 

and, though it made socializing with his peers, understanding his lessons, and connecting with his family much more difficult... in the end, maybe it’s for the best. there would be so many disastrous things to see and smell and feel -- adding one more sensation would tip him over the edge.

despite his parents and hoard of siblings, his eldest brother, jack, was the only one who put time and effort into learning ASL with monty. for that reason, they connected well. his brother would go on to have his first and only child at eighteen, leaving monty an uncle at only six. but it was absolutely poor timing...

because the usa could no longer just sit on the sidelines in silent support of the allied powers. in 1941, his eldest brother enlisted to join the army in the war effort, leaving his wife and family with the baby -- but promising he’d be back.

monty spent much of the time his eldest brother was gone connecting with his brother’s girlfriend, mary, who let monty teach her ASL. so those next three years were spent with her, with baby, and keeping up with the news.

1944, jack was sent to the frontlines in the normandy landings. the story went that he went out blazing, that he at least had that much to his legacy, but who could tell any of the thousands of d-day bodies apart ?

monty didn’t need to hear to know that silence fell over his family. he could feel it, even when they were talking at dinner. life only returned in 1945 as a broadcast celebrating two nuclear bombings played ! and monty... he didn’t know what to feel. this meant the war was over, right ? finally, a sigh of relief ! but how many innocent people had died in the fallout of it ? how long would those effects last ?

he did not wake up in his bedroom the next morning. he woke up when a piece of rubble blew against his forehead. and he was surrounded by complete and utter waste. it was hot -- no, it was cold. he assumed it was loud -- no, he assumed it was quiet. there were a few fires burning in the snow, and there was plenty of rubble to spare. nothing was standing. it was completely empty, completely desolate. 

he didn’t know where he was or how he got there. the more he explored, a terrified young boy trying to get home, the more he wondered when he was. 

a few weeks in, unsure of how he was still alive -- but not questioning it -- he came across a tunnel that led underground. already figuring he was going to die if he didn’t find something fast, this was the first sign he’d seen of any life since he’d woken up -- he kept going, past extra doors until he reached one that was bolted shut and looked to serve as some kind of vacuum. 

he did not know it. he could not know it. but, on the other side of that wall, a radio picked up the first broadcast it had heard in ages -- some sort of morse code. a few hours of sitting against that final door that he could not even begin to open, it opened with a gust of air. he dragged himself in. it was shut with that same gust of air.

a man peered through a slit and, after hours of trying to communicate when all monty could see were his eyes, a sentence of 1s and 0s... he stripped himself of his clothes, scrubbed himself with the water and sponge that sat in the corner, and was swiftly let into that final room and tossed a pair of clothes that were a few sizes too big for him. but he wore them, of course.

he was given half a can of uncooked sweet beans, half a bottle of water, and half of some... futuristic chip that he was prompted to sit on his tongue. and half of his nutrient requirements were met.

the man would point viciously to the radio, tap on it... all sorts of insanity that meant nothing to monty until he took a sheet of paper and wrote out a cipher: morse code and the related letters. he, the man, couldn’t risk losing paper to the amount of letters in a word -- a few dots and lines were a quicker solution, and, as he told monty, he could hear him over the radio... which would be cause for concern later.

what year is it ? ive stopped counting. i thought every1 was ded. where am i ? used 2 b canada. what happened ? the east. the east ? yes. what do you mean, the east ? ur not from here. no. where? illinois. america.  u dont know? i don’t. do u know what yr it is? it was 1945, last i checked.

he and the man spent the next four months together underground, the man eventually coming up with a way to express morse code without the paper. tap monty on the shoulder, make him watch him tap the wall in morse code. but it was far from paradise, and, more than that ? their supplies were running out faster than expected, what with the man only having prepared supplies for himself.

he volunteered to go look for supplies aboveground, but monty realized that he was the one who was communicating through the radio. if something happened to the man, monty would have no way to know ; if something happened to monty, however ? so he left with a walkie-talkie, an extra coat, and half a canteen of water.

it grew colder and the conditions grew worse. by the time he finally found a few non-perishables locked away in a safe, he didn’t know where he was. he couldn’t find his way back to the man. and the signal only worked one way. so he had two options of what to tell the man: he was going to stay where he was, or he was going to keep moving and hope for the best.

if he did the former, there was a good chance the man would have to leave and try to find him. if he did the latter, he was diving further into the possibility that he’d never see that shelter again... but there was also that slim possibility that he’d be saving them both if he could find him... so he sent a signal that he was lost, but he was going to keep moving and hope for the best. the walkie-talkie wave seemed to tap against his mind, to offer the only description possible: ‘goodbye, ed.’ ‘goodbye, monty.’

he was thirteen when he hopped again, this time quick as a flash. hopped just far back enough to watch the missiles fall from the sky, cars ‘screeching’ to a halt, mothers holding their children close, and pulled forward just in time to survive the blast. this time, a different country. this time, closer to the fallout. 

there was no one for him this time, though. he was on his own. he sent out frequencies, but saw nothing. felt nothing. 

certain his streak of good bad luck had finally run out, turned to simple bad luck, he was only days away from succumbing to his hunger or his dehydration or the elements or all three... but, instead of dying, he woke up in his bed. in 1949. four years after he went missing.

his family had been certain he, too, had died. perhaps ran away first, gotten lost, then gotten himself killed. it had been four years after they woke up and didn’t find him in his bed, after all ! was it a miracle ? yes ! did it also feel like some kind of abomination, like something ungodly ? yes ! 

after the initial many-a-hug, they grew... frightened ! he connected to the house radio and morse code played, explaining his unbelievable absence... but no one there knew morse code ?! and no one there knew asl ?! and speaking took more effort than he’d like to put in, especially after all those years completely shut up ?! where was mary to translate for him ? where was baby ?

that much, he could express. chicago. as ed taught him how to say in morse code: what a goddamn shithole !

but, only moments later, everyone’s attention snapped to the radio. they understood what he was trying to say. after the initial shock, they were mouthing: we can hear you. with vicious points: the radio. we hear you.

the story he told was completely unbelievable. but so was being able to hear his speech through the radio, so... live and let live...

they did take note of how he began to draw more into himself. he became obsessed with this nuclear apocalypse he claimed to have witnessed, he drew a strange man with dots and lines underneath and hung it up in his room. he couldn’t focus in school and his grades suffered terribly. at 17, seeing he was still as distant as ever, still writing in morse code, still drawing that man and trying to tell everyone who it was and what was going to happen and no he didn’t know the year or the details or- they had him institutionalized.

before he could undergo more than two rounds of electroshock therapy, he was an 18y/o in 1962. just in time for the cuban missile crisis. and this time ? not only had he seen the after effects of nuclear bombings, he understood the magnitude of this threat. and this time ? they were not fighting to free concentration camps and prisoners of war, they were fighting just to prove who was more powerful. they were building walls and sending dogs into space because they had to prove one was better than the other... and if they had to press the button to really show who was who, then they had to press the button. 

was this the wasteland monty had witnessed ? he didn’t know. he didn’t want to find out. he could put a stop to it somehow, right ? he was the only person who’d seen both, as far as he was aware...

traveling to the 70s, the country was still together -- and tensions were still high. without any other ideas, he began doing what only idealists would think would work: sending false reports over radios and broadcasts. but instead of bringing people together through shared fear -- and shared gratitude that they were still alive when they learned that the report had been a hoax -- he just scared them, then brought them back to their regular lives (those who didn’t kill themselves or run to their shelters, that is).

he continued moving back and forth within the timeline of the cold war, relentlessly trying to stop the crisis... but he only had so much he could do without making it even worse. he could activate it. if he wanted to, he could activate it.

in 1991, when the announcement that the cold war was over was made, something in his timeline glitched. he spent three days in wwii, the first two being... entirely random to him, the final one being right there in d-day... where he got to see that jack didn’t go out blazing. and he was pulled just in time -- but this time, to three days in the trenches of the vietnam war, a useless side effect of the cold war. about to be taken prisoner, he was pulled forward into the year 1999 in the middle of a countdown to a new kind of apocalypse, just to be pulled even further forward into 2020... and he finally had reprieve.

but if wwii wasn’t the cause of the nuclear apocalypse, and if the cold war wasn’t the cause of the nuclear apocalypse, then it still had yet to come. and the doomsday clock was moving fast.

left in actual civilization and... no immediate peril in 2020 chicago, he spent the next two years starting to cultivate a life. every now and again, he would glitch to a different year for a few days, but the power he had never been able to tame... seemed to be beginning to tame itself as he spent more time in a calm, but focused, state of mind.

he took on a job as a disc jockey, using the walkie-talkie he’d always held onto to transmit his thoughts across the microphone. a very standard american voice. and, so long as he had the walke-talkie with him, one that he could transmit from anywhere in the city. as long as he intercepted at the necessary times, it didn’t matter if he was in the station or not... which has been very helpful for his digging.

the end ?

TIMELINE:

BORN - in late 1934, completely deaf. already had three siblings... would have even more later on.

GENERAL EARLY SCHOOL YEARS?: was discouraged from, sometimes punished for, using ASL at school due to oral education being at its peak. he was taught english, speech, and lip-reading, but that only extends so far. his eldest brother, jack, learned sign to communicate and connect with him. the rest of his family was a little bit busy with the amount of kids...

AGE 6: at eighteen, his brother has a child with his first wife, mary. monty becomes an uncle.

AGE 7: jack goes off to fight in wwii. mary takes up his torch when it comes to providing monty with company. 

AGE 10: word is sent that jack died fighting in the frontlines in the normandy landings.

AGE 11-12: atomic bombs fall on hiroshima & nagasaki and everyone is celebrating. this is something that monty both does and does not understand... wakes up in the fallout of a nuclear apocalypse. it’s not 1945 anymore, it’s not illinois anymore.  he hopelessly travels around for weeks, unsure of how he’s alive! and, right as he’s sure he’ll be succumbing to the elements, he finds the passage to an underground bunker. after a whole series of events, he manages to get inside a safe place with a man named ed. ed manages to communicate to monty that he had sent morse over the radio. and when monty doesn’t understand, ed creates a morse-code-to-english-alphabet cipher and begins speaking to him using that as monty communicates over the radio. monty learns he’s in canada, but ed doesn’t know what year it is anymore. the cause of the atomic bomb that had hit was ‘the east.’ they eventually devise a strategy that’ll use no paper at all. ed taps monty on the shoulder and has him watch him tap the wall.

AGE 13: they start running out of supplies. ed volunteers to brave the elements, but, ultimately, monty figures that he’s the one who can communicate through technology. if ed tried to send word to him over the radio, he wouldn’t hear it, but the same wouldn’t be said when it came to monty. monty took a walkie-talkie with him and traveled out. when he finally came across non-perishables, he realized he was completely lost. he decided to tell ed that he was going to keep walking and hope for the best. they exchanged goodbyes. monty felt ed’s morse coming through the walkie-talkie. he hops back in time, just a few years, and watches as the missiles head right towards him -- whatever new country he’s in. disaster occurs all around him as women hug their children and cars come to a sudden halt and the timeline saves him by mere milliseconds, jumping him forward a few months. he spends the next year trapped in this side of the wasteland with no one to talk to.

AGE 14: he wakes up in his home, just barely making it out alive. but it’s 1949. after a few mistrials, he communicates with his family over the radio. and they cannot believe their eyes or ears: first of all, he’d just literally spoken through the radio? second of all, he... had been in a nuclear apocalypse? not just missing? hmm...

AGES 14-17: he is constantly preoccupied with this ‘fallout.’ he’s drawn into himself. he talks about it, he draws pictures of some guy with some symbols underneath... wtf?

AGE 17: his family decides to institutionalize him.

AGE 18: after going through two rounds of electroshock therapy, he is transported to 1962, just in time for the cuban missile crisis.

AGES 18-28: the timeline decides it wants him right in the middle of the cold war. he’s certain that this is what will bring the nuclear apocalypse if he can’t stop it. he goes about it by sending false broadcasts, hoping to unite people under gratitude when they come out with their lives... or maybe fear... or maybe love... but nothing seems to work. everything he tries tends to just make things worse. he could activate it if he wanted to.

AGE 28: he’s in 1991 and the cold war is over. with that news, the timeline fritzed.  he was in wwii for a few days. the final day, he was by his brother and saw that he did not go out blazing. then he was in the vietnam war for a few days. about to be taken as prisoner, the timeline yanked him to a party he was not invited to on december 31st, 1999. it was in a bunker with a group of people counting down to the end of civilization. when the clock was one second away from hitting january 1st, 2000, he was pulled forward to 2020. nothing seemed to be immediately off, unlike his past three destinations...

AGE 29: he decides it would be best to stop relying on homeless shelters -- the timeline has not interfered in a while, so he pools together some money and eventually gets a shoddy apartment in chicago.

AGES 30-32: he builds a life in chicago. he still travels every now and again, but he hasn’t spent more than two days in a different time in years. although he still can’t quite tame his power, it seems to be taming itself. he becomes a disc jockey. due to the main requirement being, you know, working through radio waves, so long as he has his walkie-talkie to communicate over, he can run the job from anywhere in the city. this is in the headcanons section, but it’s important to note that he also uses his walkie-talkie to talk to other people. ever since it started translating morse into direct words, he doesn’t have to rely on sign, and what they say gets translated in his mind through the walkie-talkie. 

HEADCANONS:

I’M GOING TO HAVE TO MAKE AN OFFICIAL REQUEST THAT, IF YOU KNOW SIGN LANGUAGE, IGNORE WHAT HE’S SAYING IN ALL OF THE GIFS.

much like his fc, he is completely deaf. he is familiar with and fluent in ASL, but carries a walkie-talkie to communicate his thoughts and translate the words of others into morse code to ensure the general ability to communicate with anyone he comes across. (yes, it would probably work with other devices. no, he is not going to give his walkie-talkie up to experiment with that.)

identified as straight until he was 15 (...i mean, the 1940s-50s + four years spent without other people, save for a few months with a guy closer to a father figure than anything else...). identified as bi until he was 20. identified as gay until he was 25. identified as bi until he was 27... has always really relied on the decade... doesn’t fully know what to label himself as, simply uses queer.

moving back and forth in the timestream has its pros and its cons. one pro ? he can survive for weeks, even months, after traveling forward without food and water. traveling backwards ? he better get to some water damn fast.

his father had some sort of dormant mutation related to bad luck, hence why monty only seemed to travel to shitty historical events. a secret his eldest brother kept was that he had telepathy... and used that to understand what monty was saying, not ASL. 

his on-air persona is ‘sonny/sunny,’ inspired by the ‘sunshine units’ & project sunshine ; the station is radio KONT - aka, radio contingency (with a ‘k’ because all american radio stations have to either start with a ‘k’ or a ‘w’ and actually chicago is based in the ‘w’ region, but... i came up with that name before i knew that so... pretend with me!)

has also kept the clothes that ed gave him to change into. is not an artist, but does have a picture of a poorly-drawn ed hanging in his apartment with morse code for ‘goodbye’ beneath it.

uses 40s-80s slang like any of it is still applicable. but with most of his childhood spent in the 30s/40s and most of his early adult years spent in the 60s-80s... look at that tubular dish! she sure is groovy!

CONNECTION IDEAS:

relatives ! as i said, he had a hoard of siblings and should, technically, be 88. plenty of time there ! could even have a child ! who’s older than him...

exes/flings/ons/etc ! you have to be careful when you have an untamable power that’ll put you in peril one second and drag you out the next. although he loves the company of others, he’s never gotten very close to anyone due to this... but...

regular listeners/callers ! eye think that could be fun.

people whose relatives he knew ! the 1940s-1990s were a wild time !

plenty of other things ! my mind is just getting fried from my cormac mccarthy novel :\ 

#forwardintro #'sole has no eyes' being attributed to 'californian weirdo' will never not make me laugh.......

[stayathomesurveys]

105.

What’s your favourite type of bird? Maybe penguins? How many friends do you have on Facebook? 219. What was on the last sandwich you ate? Turkey, ham, colby jack, swiss cheese, mayo, mustard, pepper. What sort of music did you listen to when you were in high school? All kinds - country, pop, rap, rock/alt/punk/etc. Do you prefer gold or silver jewellery? I like both but I prefer silver.

Have you ever gotten back together with an ex? Yes. How far away is the closest store to your house and what is it? Like actual grocery store - Harris Teeter is about a 3-5 minute drive down the road. There’s a CVS at the metro station next to my apartment, though. What is your favourite Thai dish? Pad see ew :) How many contacts do you have in your phone? Not a lot at all. I recently deleted pretty much all of my contacts other than family and Correy.

When was the last time you made out with somebody? Recently.  What month of the year was your mother born? March. Do you have any friends that seem to know all the hot gossip? I have no friends. Are there any candles in your bedroom, and what scent are they? No. What tv show(s) have you been watching currently? For All Mankind & Stranger Things When was the last time you went to a birthday party? Last year. How many apps do you have on your phone? Too many! What pet names do you use with your significant other? I don’t really use pet names lol. I call him corkie, corkchop, cork, cor cor. Do you have to wear a name badge where you work? No job :) Do you have a dress code or have to wear a uniform where you work? No job :) What brand is your toaster, if you have one? Probably like cuisinart or something idk. I don’t feel like going to look. Are there any movies you’ve seen so many times? Yeah. What was the last thing you purchased with cash? Don’t remember. Can you hear anything right now? Yes. So Far Away x Agust D & SURAN Is there anybody else in the room you’re currently in? Nope. What’s the name of the store you usually get your groceries? Harris Teeter. Does your house have a porch/balcony? Yes. What’s your usual order when you go to a coffee shop? Depends. Have you ever seen a theatre show? Yeah. What was the last movie you saw and who did you watch it with? Nope with Correy. What is your mother’s first name? Deborah. Do you like to dance? Yea. How would you describe your sense of humour? I don’t know. What’s your favourite type of bread? Sourdough. Do you receive catalogues and brochures in your mailbox? Yeah. What colour is the sky right now? Blue. Do you share a middle name with any of your siblings? Nope. Have there ever been any bushfires/wildfires in your area? I don’t think so. Have you ever taken a ride in an ambulance? Nope. How would you label your sexual orientation? Straight. When was the last time you took a nap during the day? Yesterday. What did you have to eat for dinner last night? Steak. Have you ever been a member in a band? No. Are you double-jointed? Yeah. What was the last thing you had to drink? Zero cal cherry cola. Do you currently have any bruises on your body? Yeah. Who was the last message you received from and what did they say? Correy & it said “love you” What colour are your eyes? Blue.  Do you consider your goals easily achievable or are they pretty grand? Idk. What’s your favourite kind of accent? German, Italian, NY What time does the sun go down where you live at this time of the year? I don’t know, like 8 pm? Do you prefer beer, wine or spirits? Spirits. When was the last time you ate Mexican food? We had tacos the other night. Have you ever watched yourself on video? Yeah. What time did you wake up today? 3:40 am. What time will you go to sleep tonight? Not sure. Do you have separate emails for personal and business? Yeah. Are you the eldest, youngest or a middle child? Middle. What’s your favourite vegetable? Zucchini, broccoli What colours are you wearing today? Purple and grey Do you have a subscription to any streaming services like Netflix? Yes. Would you rather eat Italian or Indian food? Italian. Are you sitting, standing or lying down right now? Sitting. Have you ever missed a flight? ALMOST, but no. Are you someone who always needs a coffee before you can function? No. Do your neighbours have any pets? Have you ever met them? Yeah and yeah. When was the last time you washed your hair? This morning. What colour is your bedroom door? White. Have you ever seen a lunar eclipse? Yes, there was one in August 2017 and I luckily lived in one of the prime viewing areas. It was pretty cool! Do you know your significant other’s passwords? Yes and he knows mine. What was the last thing you said aloud? Idk. Do you know anyone who writes huge essays when they message you? Sometimes. What’s your favourite type of salad? Spinach &/or lettuce, chicken, hardboiled egg, cheese, onions, cucumber, carrots, ranch. I also like spinach, quinoa, chicken, cucumber, feta, and tzatziki.

#survey

[dreamgirledward]

movies that could fix dean :)

the truman show (1998) dean IS truman-coded. break free from the narrative, baby! dean's the hamster in the wheel of chuck's show and he's telling the creator to go fuck himself! coco (2017) bc i can so easily picture jack asking to watch it with him, cas and sam and they'd all definitely sob at the end also i just think any film with a theme about familial love and loss would break him into a million pieces lilo & stitch (2002) dean and nani 🤝 eldest daughters growing up too fast, working hard to keep their broken family together and raising a baby sibling that doesnt quite understand your sacrifice, two sisters against the world, etc. etc. you get it. i think the Aloha O`e scene would make him ugly sob and would provide a lot of catharsis for him pride & prejudice (2005) purely bc i DO think the shot of darcy walking through the field towards lizzie at dawn could fix him. also. he loves someone. most ardently. brokeback mountain (2005) oh. you know. both mamma mia films (2008, 2018) mostly bc i think once he let himself enjoy abba he would immediately come out to everyone he knew but also specifically i think here we go again's representation of motherhood would cause him to have a breakdown billy elliot (2000) (i havent stopped thinking about this since it was posted </3 @skepticalfrog im still so unwell thank you so much for drawing that.) literally any representation of pure fatherly love like this would help dean work through all his shit with john and understand that fathers DO NOT have to be Like That and he was in fact a victim and it could definitely help him with how to be a better father towards jack. billy's surety of his masculinity + sexuality while learning ballet AND how clearly not homophobic he is towards michael: literal perfection i just really need dean to watch billy elliot it is an absolutely perfect film. also. dean in out with the old. thinking. legally blonde (2001) is it a stretch to say dean's elle-coded? maybe but i dont care. pretty person that's been told to stick to what they Know and just Do As They're Told but actively chooses to go after what they want and even excel at it, proving to everyone around them that they're much more than a pretty face and extremely capable <3 elle would be dean's hero eternal sunshine of the spotless mind (2004) i just really need him to hear clementine's monologue that's literally her explaining to not only joel but to the audience that she is in fact not the manic pixie dream girl of his dreams. also choosing to not give up on the one you love even when you both have hurt each other horribly is very divorce arc destiel if i do say so myself

#by fix do i mean send into an all consuming depression because it hits too close to home and he has A Lot to think about and address or #do i just mean he sobs at the end and it fundamentally changes him ?? #u can decide #i could add more but this would be much too long lolol #dean winchester #spn #edit: i need anyone who reads this to understand that joel and clememtine trying again with each other paralleled with divorce arc destiel #is a parallel to me because of them actively trying again not bc cas ever hurt dean :) cas literally did nothing wrong :) #sammy's good spn #sammy.txt

[piratestrash]

That Henry Morgan wants to kill everyone talk made me wonder: Teague must be at least a little bit more prevaleged than his other siblings since he became Keeper of the Code and Pirate Lord. What if Morgan realised that, stalked young Teague and tried to kill him to get revenge the same way he tried to kill baby Jack Sparrow later?

It wouldn't surprise me if Henry did stalk Teague. And Grandmama was too busy fangirling to care, while Bartholomew had a different opinion. Hence a falling out between the co-writers of the Code.

I always imagined Teague was the eldest sibling, so he became the heir unless he got disowned. He was also the only one to truly get interested in it enough. Everyone else had a similar view to other pirates. The Code is great and all, but we're just gonna follow it and do our own thing. Teague got truly interested and wanted to learn, which made Bartholomew happy. He had at least one child who gave enough fucks about what Daddy did to have someone to feel perfectly calm passing down the Code.

#Edward Teague #Bartholomew

[xathia-89]

Shattering the Bond of Twins Part 1

This is @toloveawarlord and @plumpblueberry fault. I’m in OC hell. 

The tea rooms had been an adequate way of passing the afternoons, as Irene returned dutifully to the Eustice manor in time for preparation for her father’s usual evening demands. Her twin brother was out as per usual, enjoying his position as the younger brother to the Eustice name. Their elder brother had five years on them and was dutifully serving the Red Army as the Ten of Hearts. He rarely came home, so it was more than a little surprising to see him in the living room opposite their father.

“Irene, glad to see you could make it home,” the distaste in her father’s voice was apparent, though if it was in his power, then she would be locked in the manor and under his direct control as a puppet like her mother was.

“I had informed you of my timely return father,” her voice was curt but unchallenging. There was nothing to be gained by agitating the man. “How can I be of assistance? And Levi, a pleasure to see you,” her smile was pleasant but restrained, the Ten of Hearts had a duty to the position and family, of course, his presence here would not be a social visit.

“Likewise, Irene,” Levi was still fully dressed in the uniform, stiff as ever and watching his sister with a sharp eye.

“You are of an age where you should be married, we have been sourcing an adequate suitor. Levi has just come back with a response from the Clemence family,” her father would drag her brother through this. “Their eldest son is also in need of a bride to continue the family, your mother will take you to the dress store tomorrow, and the party is being held next weekend. This news will be announced then, so please try to hold your tongue in gossiping about it.”

“I would never dream of going against your wishes,” Irene gave a restrained smile. The Queen of Hearts was notorious for being a stuck up pompous ass most of the time, it was always his way, or you didn’t do it. It was almost possible to sympathise with his little brother who had defected to the Black Army territory. “I was going to check on the maids and how dinner was coming on, would you like me for anything else, father?”

“No, you may leave now.”

His tone was cold, there was nothing loving in this family as James came bounding in, high off something as he pushed Irene aside. Her twin brother was allowed the freedoms she could only dream of, but his entrance also meant the attention was no longer on her as she approached the kitchens. Her skirts were brushing against the floor, alerting the staff to her approach as the maids and servants were already rushing around in a panicked state.

“When is dinner due to be served?” Her question was addressed to the head chef, a man who refused to bow to any woman as per the usual state of affairs.

“At seven thirty, as it is every night, you stupid girl,” he hissed.

Irene had no authority in this manor. It was suffocating, but all she was merely smile at the foul man.

“I will inform my father then,” her smile didn’t warm her eyes as she left the room.

Every staff member knew she never returned to her father after this daily exchange. She would go to her room and pass the time until dinner was to be served. She would play the part of the dress-up doll while her father was at the manor, she would never question him in earshot of her brothers or the staff, she did as he wished and always made sure to dress the part. During his absences, then the strangest of things were happening. Irene would be out most evenings, and the postman would always have a pile of letters for her, not that it would ever be shared who she dared to communicate with. She had no friendship with any of the maids, she had refused to take on a lady in waiting, saying that the staff had better things to be doing than to pander to her needs. Something that her father had approved of since it meant that the appearance of the manor was always going to be the primary concern, though it did also mean that maids came and left on a cycle. No one dared to say ‘no’ to the head of the Eustice family, of course.

Everything was set in its stone. Irene would wed Jonah Clemence and set the Eustice family in good stead within Cradle. Beyond their position as the Ten of Hearts of course. This was the only way that Irene could bring her family some use and pay her father back for her upbringing.

***

The dress code was as formal and stiff as ever. There was no official announcement as to the occasion, and Irene arrived with her mother and father. The dress was in the colours of the Eustice family, a dark royal blue and shining ivory as her father had initially disapproved of the fact it was sleeveless and off the shoulder until the dark blue satin gloves that came up to just over her elbows were displayed. It would never do to show too much skin, of course, that was unbecoming.

Most of the families of the Red and Black territories were present. Anyone who was anyone in power was present. Her father was only loyal to money and public image, as Irene had already been instructed not to leave his side unless he had allowed it. Her mother was a shadow of the woman in the wedding portraits and early paintings that were displayed around the house. Her father cruelly said that Irene had stolen her beauty since she had never been the same since giving birth to the twins.

He believed that Irene was just another woman. She had no drive, she would be sated by having a husband and would cease to be his problem as Levi approached.

“Jonah has not arrived yet, but I will keep searching for him,” Levi announced to their father quietly, only just loud enough for Irene to hear.

The siblings shared a look. Levi had always loathed the twins, they had gone through nothing like he had for a childhood. James had declined to attend the ball, and that was fine, but it would be a disgrace to the family name if Levi had refused. Their father had pushed and pushed for Irene to be matched to another officer, he had even tried to insist on Lancelot. Levi’s choice was the elusive Jack of Hearts; instead, he had to settle when the Clemence family had reached back to him. Jonah had been furious when he was told, to the point that the two nearly had a duel in the corridor. Edgar and Zero intervened, with some form of ‘help’ from Kyle on the side, mostly bitterly complaining that he didn’t need to be stitching up the officers as well as the soldiers over something so petty.

His hatred of her was well known. Levi had always been telling Irene how weak she was as a child, saying that the only thing a woman was good for was spreading her legs, and that was how she was to spend the rest of her days of course.

Then Edgar’s approach seemed to change the entire tone.

“Levi, I’m surprised to see you here,” the Jack of Heart’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, it read more as a warning that Levi was stepping out of line. Something that tickled Irene before the attention switched to her. “May I have this dance, it seems a shame for you to miss out,” his gaze lingered on Levi, who was trying to ignore his ‘superior’. The accusations of Irene being loose-lipped would flow as she felt her father tense up next to her. “Since it has become a hot topic of the Red Army barracks that Jonah is to be wed after Levi and Jonah could not contain their tempers in the corridors of course,” he continued, immediately freeing Irene of any blame, not that it would stop their father.

“It’s improper for a young lady to dance with any man who is not her intended,” Irene smiled, inclining her head slightly, trying to calm the atmosphere. “But thank you kindly for the offer, Jack of Hearts.”

“For you, it’s Edgar,” his smile was the scariest thing about him until she saw the flicker of a real one, and he kissed the back of her hand. “Levi,” he firmly said, all pleasantries disappearing before Irene felt her father grabbing her arm tightly as the Bright heir departed.

“You whore,” her father’s voice was a whisper in her ear, an accusation that he would always assume of her of course. “You can’t resist flirting with any man who looks at you-”

A cough brought shame to her father, just because he was caught. Jonah Clemence was frowning at the man, staring over Irene’s head with a passionate glare before extending his hand to the female.

Words weren’t necessary. Edgar had been merely riling up her brother by talking to her before Jonah lead her decisively onto the dance floor. He was proud by all appearances, taking the lead in the dance as usual in these situations while Irene naturally stepped into the demur follower. Dancing was one of her favoured pastimes, but this was just a manufactured reaction.

“For everyone’s sake, I hope you are nothing like the rest of your family,” Jonah’s words shattered the doll’s mask that Irene wore in public, and the couple froze.

“Let’s assume nothing then, but it would be best to speak freely and outside of such an event where we are about to be made the centre of attention,” Irene lowly replied, as their names were shouted, and everyone turned to them, clapping in response to the news that the two were engaged to be married.

#Jonah Clemence #edgar bright #ikerev #ikémen revolution #ikemen revolution

[everyoneprotector]

So, no one asked for this, but I’m doing it anyways because I want to write stuff with the JSE egos and I need a place to put my current headcannons and i strive on validation, so screw you I’m putting it here.

How I view/headcannon the egos under the cut 

Chase Brody Chase is a good Dad, loves his kids and (ex)wife and is the second youngest Split with Stacy due to financial strain and how much time the channel took up verses how much time he spent with her and the kids He has half custody, shared with Stacy. They swap who has the kids every week. They get together each easter and Christmas to make sure the kids have both parents then He loves his ‘brothers’ so much. Like, he sees them and goes ‘yes, they are my brother now and i will give that much love to them’ (except JJ, JJ is his son) He went through a very rough period but luckily Schneep helped him out of it. Now he knows he’s in a safe environment and he is (slowly) coming out of his depression, although there are still bad days His bad days can be very different. Sometimes he can’t get out of bed, sometimes he can’t eat or drink, sometimes he relapses into suicidal and self harm urges, but Schneep can generally tell when he needs to keep an eye on Chase. Chase may be the second youngest, but get him mad and you WILL be grounded and have your tv/phone/magic/patrol/coffee/book privileges taken off you (he’s looking at you Jackie) He found Jack after ‘Say Goodbye’ and was waiting outside the ER during KJSE He is single handedly maintaining Jacks youtube channel

Marvin the Magnificent Marvin is a relatively famous street magician, who does stage shows on occasion.  He is the second eldest He is probably the most responsible out of all of them, especially with money. He has a strict budget and will stick to it, because he doesn’t want them to be out on the street, especially when their creator is in a coma. He specialises in defensive and offensive magic, but when Chase was created he started to learn some ‘stupid parlour tricks’ to impress him (though he wont admit it) You know the stereotype of ‘protective older brother’? Yeah, he and Jackie wrestle for that title. When he does stage shows, it’s all stops out. His brothers always go to the first one, and Chase and JJ generally try to go to the second one as well. When Jack went into a coma in KJSE, he was away on a tour. When Chase disappeared during Observation he was performing a stage show, one that Chase had been to the night before. He feels like its his fault both of those times. He is a dork. Like, you have to get to know him but he is the biggest dork. He learnt latin because he thought he would need it but when he found out that he didn’t he’d just say nice stuff about his brothers in latin so they would think he’s doing spells. With his powers, he knows a lot of ways to use cards. One way is that he uses them as shields via a reenforcement hex, or uses them to locate his brothers. His card that helps him find Chase was torn in half after Chase disappeared, only making him more fearful for his younger brother. He is currently looking after the channel and trying to find where Chase is. He was the one that told his brothers, and Stacy and the kids.

Jackaboyman, or Jackie The eldest ego is also the most rebellious. He constantly puts his life on the line and gives everyone grey hairs. His brothers all want him to ‘please calm down’ and ‘stop throwing yourself into battle’ and ‘you don’t get an immunity to bullets you dumbass’ Being the eldest, he remembers when the house was so quiet and alone, and when his patrols end later than normal, and Chase and Schneep aren’t awake to reprimand him for being out so late, he normally goes on patrol again, because he hates the silence and the darkness, as it reminds him of [redacted] He point blank refuses to back out of a fight. He has the stupidity and bravado of pre-serum Captain America but with powers Speaking of powers, his powers include: Being able to tell when someone is distressed, x-ray vision, keen hearing, superior agility, and tentative hacking/coding skills (these are cannon powers), super strength and flight. This boy is so self sacrificial that if it weren’t for Schneep, he would have ended up dead by now. No one knows how he managed without Schneep. During ‘Say Goodbye’ he was on patrol. During KJSE he tried to stop Anti, and put up a good fight too, until he was knocked out by Anti. He was on patrol when Chase went missing during Observation. He holds the guilt, because he thinks that if he was there and was stronger for ANY of them, he could have saved them.

Henrik von Schneeplestein Henrik is the middle ego, older than Chase and JJ but younger than Marvin and Jackie, although unlike most middle siblings, they don’t expect him to be like Jackie or Marvin, and they don’t expect him to dot on Chase and JJ.  Henrik is very caring, even without the standards they try not to put on him. He might not be the best at budgeting, but he is the best at making sure that they have enough food/water/medical supplies. Henrik is a doctor who used to work in a children’s hospital, but he currently works in a base hospital. He still wears the bright coloured shirts to any appointment’s with children though! He became Jacks personal doctor after he went into a coma, due to him being the only doctor in their family. He is this close to throwing hands with Jackie. He can’t fight for shit, but he will throw hands if that hero steps through the door AFTER 3am. He blames himself for Jack’s coma, because he feels like he should have been able to fix him before Anti came in, but he doesn’t blame himself for Chase disappearing. He was in an operation at his work, and he knows he can’t fight Anti, so he would have made things worse for Chase if he had of been there. After the 9 months he was away, he refused to talk about it to anyone. They all pressed for answers, especially Chase, but he still refuses. He still gets nightmares from it. He hopes that what happened to him wont happen to Chase, but he refuses to get his hopes up, he knows that it will most likely happen to Chase too.

---TUMBLR I HAVE BEEN MAKING THIS POST FOR LITERAL WEEKS WHERE ARE THE FUCKING LINE BREAKS---

Jameson Jackson This boi is pure, he is the youngest and so fricken pure It took a long time for him to be trusted by the other egos, due to him being born during Jack’s coma. Chase is the first to trust him after the essential baby almost set himself on fire trying to make himself dinner without waking up or upsetting the others. Because he was corrupted by Anti when he was ‘born’, he doesn’t have many actual memories of what happened, but he knows that Jackie saved him. Chase named him, but it was Marvin who gave him the speech cards. He is so naive. Like, tell that boy anything he’ll probably believe you. On the flip side though, he is terrified of Anti. He blames himself for Anti kidnapping Chase, thinking that if he was there he could have saved him, or traded himself for Chase. His brothers all feel kinda bad for how they treated him when they first met him, but he has long since forgiven them. If Anti were to become good (something that i do not feel comfortable with, but that is up to Jack) JJ would probably be the first to accept him, but the last to trust him His meetings with his brothers were, let’s just say, less than pleasant. I would go into more detail but the post is long as it is. You can ask for their meetings i wanna go into detail and write them out anyways.

#egos #fan works #fandoms #JSE #MayHem 2019 #Chase Brody #Jameson Jackson #JJ #Antisepticeye #Marvin the Magnificent #Marvin the Magician #Dr. Schneeplestein #Henrik von Schneeplestein #Jackieboy Man #headcannons #my head cannons #youtube #jacksepticeye

[sublimegentlemanalpaca]

A Current list of Eldritchicians those developed and under developed.

I will list the Currently thought up Eldritchicians. This might be repetitive but ah well. Will have their name, what Eldritch topics they’re familiar with, any particular interesting bits about them like if they’re part of a Splinter group or what have you. Hope you find this interesting, and if you have any questions be they important or otherwise...please ask away! Please? Alyss Violet Eldridge: First Eldritchician. The Arch Overseer, Founder and leader of the FoE. Adopted daughter of Alvis Vadim Eldritch. Raised by Alvis and the rest of his Fellows. Has learned a little of everything from the each Eldritch Fellow (even Alastor) Skilled in the Rapier, Carnwennanian Dagger, excellent persuader and diplomat (when necessary). Always has a book on her person. Has an Awoken Shadow. Is Dark skinned with unnaturally white hair. Wears three Rings. Her Overseer and Arch Overseer Rings on her left (An Iron Ring set with Amethyst and a Silver Ring set with Lapis Lazuli), and a Ring gifted to her by the Eldritch Fellows which is visibly made of Orichalcum with a brilliant blood red stone of some sort (a very philosophical sort). Immediate superior to all Eldritchicians. Will occasionally not wear her Overseer Rings and go about business as a simple Eldritchician, usually teaming up with Tomomi and Charles Williams. Overseer Secundus Sinbad Al-Amin. A Cartographer and Blacksmith from Damascus. Knows how to make Damascus Steel. Has learned from Alvis(Wisdom) Albus(Ghosts and Sea Creatures) , Algimantas (Items and Objects and Allan (Demons and things considered Demons and such). Vice Chancellor of the Academy for Eldritchicians. An avid Cartographer of Strange and unusual Locales. A friend to Alvis. Wears two rings. One is his Overseer Ring, the other is a Agate Ring which to my knowledge is a custom of Muslim men. If this is incorrect, please correct me. Overseer Morgan Maddox. A Scottish (or Welsh? I’m not sure yet) Warrior. Friend of Alyss. Heads the Saint Alyss Academy for Eldritchicians. Skilled in Spear, and Carnwennanian Dagger. The Overseer who ...oversees the paperwork for the occasional necessary extermination and such? Monster hunting and the like. Learned under the Legendary Scàthach before meeting Alyss and the Eldritch Fellows. As an Eldritchician Studied under Alvis, Algimantas, Albus, and Alaire. Her Spear is made by Albus from The bone of a Sea Monster, Silver, Cold Iron, Meteoric Iron, And Orichalcum. Has a Prosthetic Arm of Magic Silver made by Algimantas. Wears her Overseer Ring on her left hand. Overseer Runa. A Norse Elf who along with her sister Huld followed Alvis around for a month or two certain that he was Odin. When the two realized Alvis was in fact not Odin they stuck around all the same. Runa joined the founding Eldritchicians while Huld helps in managing the Archives alongside Sophocles. Runa is basically the Bard (or Skald I suppose) of the Overseers. Has studied under Alvis, Algimantas, Albus, Alaire (for storytelling). Wears her Overseer Ring on his left hand. Overseer Cosmin The Solomonar: as the Title suggests, Cosmin is a (former?) Solomonar. A Wizard (?) From Romanian Folklore (Mythology?). Controls the Weather and rides a Dragon. Runs the Grey School, modeled after his own Education as a Solomonar at the Scholomance. Already knew a whole lot but has studied with Alvis, Algimantas, Albus, Alaire, and studied with Algernon even. Wears his Overseer Ring Overseer Archimedes: A Mothman. Tall black winged thing . Best friend to Alaire. In charge of the Fellows In Grey, a Splinter group in the Fellowship that deals with Cryptids, Aliens, and so on. Does not wear his Overseer Ring nor any of his pins. He leaves all the stuff which denotes him as an Eldritchician with Alaire. Alaire being the only Eldritch Fellow to actually kinda sorta join the FoE. Sophocles of Alexandria: Head Archivist for the Fellowship. He is not really an Overseer....he is imprisoned in the Archives for having tried stealing a book from Alvis...this did not end well for Sophocles place of Employment, The Library of Alexandria (books were sparred, rest was destroyed). Can not leave the Archives. Medusa: Former Priestess of Athena, Gorgon. Studied Alvis’ Wisdom, Algimantas’ stuff (who she hates), Alpheas, and with Albus. In a Trio with Ismene and Prioska. Studied shapeshifters and transformation with Alphaes (spelling?). In a relationship with Ismene. Her serpent locks are Golden. Ismene: Former Priestess of Athena. Also a Former Statue. Still has some Statue characteristics. Studied with Alvis, Algimantas, and Albus. In a relationship with Medusa. Prioska Lakatos: A Vampire from Hungary. Skilled in Clockwork. Has a Coat she stole from Albus. Calls Albus Alucard. Studied under Albus, Alvis, Algimantas, and Alaire. On a Trio with Ismene and Medusa. Also a part of Alyss’ Intelligentsia (keeping track of other secret Societies and Spy things). Loves teasing Quincey. Quincey Johnathan Jack Harker: Eldest son of Johnathan and Mina Harker. Vampire Hunter. Studied with Albus (Ghosts and stuff), Algimantas, Alvis. Duel wields Bowie Knives (one belonging to his Namesake, the other made of Adamant by Albus). Is Bi...not always the brightest...Can see Ghosts. On a Trio with Horatio and Runa. Might be in a relationship with Huld? Lucius Abraham Arthur Harker: Second Harker Son and Younger brother to Quincey. Is not an Eldritchician. He is a ghost though and is haunting his Brother (‘To keep an eye on my dummy of a Brother so he doesn’t get himself killed). Will regularly set up Hauntings so as to set up his brother with Eligible Bachelors and Bachelorettes and so on. Huld: Norse elf who followed Alvis for months thinking he was Odin with her sister Runa. Might be in a relationship with Quincey? Learned from Alaire, Albus, Algimantus, as well Alewar (Eldritch Horrors In a Extra Planetary Or Lovecraftian sense), and Alwin (Fae and Elves). In a relationship with Quincey? Leader of her Trio? Horatio aka ‘Doctor Faustus’: A Danish Man recognized for dressing in all black. Wields a Rapier. Known as Doctor Faustus since he’s studied Demons with Allan and he studied at Wittenberg. Studied with Alaire and has an Awoken Shadow. It is named but he always says it so quietly, only Horatio and Alaire know the name. Quincey has been able to catch that the name of Horatio’s Shadow starts with an H...followed by an A. Horatio has put all his Eldritch studies into Shadows, Demons and Ghosts. It is rumored he gave his Soul over to Allan V Eldritch. Wields a Carnwennanian Dagger Or a Bespoked Bodkin. Leaving his own Shadow...Lighter for lack of a better phrase . In a Trio with Quincey and Huld. Aeschylus Adams: A Werewolf Ranger, and one of Alyss’ Intelligentsia. Think of a mix of Aragorn and Halt O’Carrick. Excellent Thief and Pick pocket. Studied with Alaire (Cryptids, Shadows, and Folklore), Albus, and Algimantas. Studied Druid craft and stuff with Alfr. In a Trio with Midas Little and Murdann. Dr. Mercury Little: one of Four Little Brothers (three of whom are a part of the FoE), differentiated From his brothers by his Seemingly unnatural Silver hair. Studied Angels and Alchemy with Aldread, Albus, Alvis, and Alaire. Murdann Eldritch: A Finwife From Orkney. First Wife of Albus Viggo Eldritch. Joined after having been with Albus for some years. Knows what Albus has to teach, learned from Alvis, and Alfr. An exceptional Healer. Regularly has Weaving Contests with Ismene and Medusa. In a Trio with Dr Little and Aeschylus. Open relationship with Albus. Dr. Hermes Little: Same as Doctor Mercury Little. Only he has white Hair. Eldest of the Little ‘Brothers’. Studied all the same stuff. In a Trio with Charles Williams and Clarissa Williams. Charles Williams: Once an Editor now an Eldritchician. Tried repeatedly to join the FoE and finally managed it after trying forever. Studied Alchemy and Angels with Aldread, Magical Items with Algimantas (specifically Relics), Ghosts with Albus, and a bunch of others (Alvis, Alwin, and Algernon). The Left hand of the Arch Overseer. Go to diplomat between other Secret Societies. One of Alyss’ Intelligentsia( occasionally answers to the Codename Walsingham). Also, I should mention he’s an ESPer....Telepathy, Telekinesis, and Pyrokinesis for fun ;) . Clarissa Williams: Alternate Charles Williams. ESPER, Can see Ghosts Naturally. Intelligentsia member (Code Name Francis). Dr. Midas Little: same as the other Doctor Littles except that his hair is Golden. In a Trio with Tomomi and Dr. Leeds. Tomomi.: a Kitsune, friend to Alyss since she (Alyss) was young. Expert on Yokai and things. Studied with Alaire, Alvis, Albus, Algimantus and Alpheas (because shapeshifting). Just decided to be the guardian of Alvis’ Bookshop when they were in Japan one time. In a Trio with Dr. Midas Little and Dr. Leeds. when not going on solo missions for Alyss. A part of Alyss’ Intelligentsia (Code Name Dee, because she wasn’t fond of Kit Marlowe as a Codename). Doctor Mary Leeds: 12th Child of the Leeds family and the immediate Elder sibling and Caretaker to John Daniel Leeds...aka...the Jersey Devil. A Medicinal Doctor. Studied with Albus, Alvis, Algimantas, and Alaire. Stood up for her baby Brother when he killed one of the Night Crawlers working for Archimedes. She keeps track of Her Brother to make sure he doesn’t cause trouble (otherwise Archimedes and Alaire will need to deal with him). Learned medicine from the Black Doctor Ghost. One of the Fellows In Grey. Developed the spray they use to wipe memories and things. Mr Erland Ranswell: A Grey Alien in a Grey Suit. One of Archimedes’ Fellows In Grey. A Linguist and Cartographer. Has endeavored to learn the Whooping language of the Fresno Nightcrawlers Employed by Archimedes and Alaire. In a Trio ‘officially’ but not really with Dr. Livesey and Dr. Mercury Little. Dr. Yorick Roger Livesey: Once a Ship’s Surgeon now an animate Skeleton (rather than a Ghost like most who stay at Albus’ Lighthouses). Dressed in Piratey clothes and wears one of Albus’ old Coats when not doing Surgery or what have you. Has studied with Albus, Alaire, and Alvis. As well as Algernon. Can not speak and communicates In two ways. Either sign language or a horrible creaking noise that has an echo of bone saws. The first is interpreted by a Talking Raven Named Apollo Teach, the second by a Talking Snake Named Asclepius Hands. Asclepius’ Voice is supposed to serve as an auditory Balm after hearing Yorick Speak. Dr. Livesey gets along with Murdann and Prioska. He works closely with Albus ( being his First mate in a way?). Teaches medicine at Sinbad’s College for Eldritchicians. When out and about he will wear gloves and a mask to hide the whole...being a Skeleton thing. Dr. Mercury Little: Same as the other Little’s his hair is Silver and he looks younger than Hermes Little. Miss Calista Flatwood: Archimedes Second in command for running the Fellows In Grey. Is the Flatwoods Monster.... Mister Ray Green: A little green Alien. Astro Cartographer. Teleportation technology? I don’t know. Just thought to have a little green man. One of the Fellows In Grey. Let’s see am I forgetting anyone...ah right. Rosemary: A Fairy, once Royal Retainer to King Alberich (who is now Alwin) V Eldritch. Corrupter of Words. A Member of Alyss’ Intelligentsia, Rosemary keeps his eye on the the goings ons of The Fae Courts since his Master has had to abdicate. Is ultimately Loyal to Alwin, but works for Alyss under Alwin’s orders. The expert on Fae among the Eldritchicians. The Nightcrawler Corp: A bunch of Fresno Nightcrawlers that act as Scouts and Recon and things. They are Archimedes’ Eyes and ears for all the goings ons of Cryptids and whatever else they’re asked to look into. They answer to Archimedes only or those who relay things from Archimedes. They communicate in a series of Whoops and Kicking. Only Archimedes and Alaire are fluent in their language. The Hide Behind Network/ Erebus Hyde: A Hide Behind was stalking Alaire once...only to get caught by Aldjoy (Alaire’s living Shadow). Alaire befriended the Creature, and gave it the Name Erebus Hyde. The Hide Behind Network is all Hide Behinds being in a sort of Hive Mind (A Hide Mind?) they are many....They are not Shadows as Alaire originally thought. But they are something...something Old...perhaps only younger then the Eldritch Fellows themselves. Certain Eldritchicians (Dr. Leeds, Horatio, Overseer Morgan and others) know when a Hidebehind is behind them, and they will be sure to make people who they’re giving messages to know they’re there. They all answer to the name Erebus Hyde...all address Alaire as Friend, (and Address all the other Fellows by that title)...others they’ll address by their relation to Alaire. Okay..I think that’s everyone! And in Trios to! Be sure to ask any questions about any of these Fellows you might have. Stuff subject to change. Make of this what you will. Al, the Chronographing Cottager and Prince of Naming

#FoE #The FoE #OCs #My OCs #Eldritchicians #the Fellowship of Eldritchicians #Make of this what you will #My Writing

[eldritchsurveys]

526.

What’s your favourite type of bird? >> Corvids. Crows and ravens particularly. How many friends do you have on Facebook? >> 4. What was on the last sandwich you ate? >> The last sandwich I ate was a veggie burger with mustard, lettuce, pepper jack cheese, pickles, and onions. What sort of music did you listen to when you were in high school? >> Nu-metal and grunge and alternative. Do you prefer gold or silver jewellery? >> Gold.

Have you ever gotten back together with an ex? >> Yeah. How far away is the closest store to your house and what is it? >> There’s a farm market like, a 10 minute walk away.

What is your favourite Thai dish? >> Pad thai. How many contacts do you have in your phone? >> Like, 3. When was the last time you made out with somebody? >> I don’t remember. What month of the year was your mother born? >> --- Do you have any friends that seem to know all the hot gossip? >> No. Are there any candles in your bedroom, and what scent are they? >> No. What tv show(s) have you been watching currently? >> I’ve watched a lot of Ridiculousness and Catfish while we were here on vacation. And cartoons. When was the last time you went to a birthday party? >> I don’t remember. How many apps do you have on your phone? >> As far as apps that I’ve personally installed, probably around 10. But of course there’s also all those apps that came with the phone that I can’t uninstall. What pet names do you use with your significant other? >> None. Do you have to wear a name badge where you work? >> --- Do you have a dress code or have to wear a uniform where you work? >> --- What brand is your toaster, if you have one? >> I don’t remember. Have you ever dated a smoker? If not, would you? >> Yeah. Are there any movies you’ve seen so many times? >> Yeah, Event Horizon. What was the last thing you purchased with cash? >> I don’t remember, I don’t usually carry cash. Can you hear anything right now? >> Me typing, birds being raucous outside, and the television in Sparrow’s room. Is there anybody else in the room you’re currently in? >> No. What’s the name of the store you usually get your groceries? >> Meijer. Would you rather travel to Japan or Scotland? >> Either would do fine. Does your house have a porch/balcony? >> The apartment has a balcony, yeah. What’s your usual order when you go to a coffee shop? >> Tea. Have you ever seen a theatre show? >> Yeah. What was the last movie you saw and who did you watch it with? >> I tried to watch Beetlejuice and just couldn’t finish it. I was alone. But also we kind of saw Hellraiser and The Lost Boys at the Halloween party we went to, because they were playing on the televisions above the bar. But there was no sound, so I’m not sure that counts. What is your mother’s first name? >> --- Do you like to dance? >> Sure. What’s your favourite type of bread? >> Sourdough, multigrain, brioche. Do you receive catalogues and brochures in your mailbox? >> Just those annoying advertisement circulars.

What colour is the sky right now? >> Mostly blue. Do you share a middle name with any of your siblings? >> --- Have there ever been any bushfires/wildfires in your area? >> Not to my knowledge. Have you ever taken a ride in an ambulance? >> Yeah. How would you label your sexual orientation? >> I prefer not to label it, but I do seem to be functionally asexual when it comes to outworld matters. Inworld is a whole different barrel of dicks. When was the last time you took a nap during the day? >> I don’t remember. What did you have to eat for dinner last night? >> I only had one actual meal yesterday, and it was in the afternoon. This morning I was like “why am I so hungry?” and then I remembered I ate like 600 calories yesterday and drank the rest lmao. Have you ever been a member in a band? >> No. Are you double-jointed? >> No. What was the last thing you had to drink? >> Absinthe. I should drink some water right now, shouldn’t I. Do you currently have any bruises on your body? >> No. Who was the last message you received from and what did they say? >> Sparrow said “nyah see” because I put a lucky cat bitmoji in the Venmo message. What colour are your eyes? >> Dark brown. Can you cry on command? If so, have you ever used it to your advantage? >> No. Do you consider your goals easily achievable or are they pretty grand? >> I don’t have any goals. What’s your favourite kind of accent? >> I don’t have one. What time does the sun go down where you live at this time of the year? >> Fuckin 6p or something like that. Do you prefer beer, wine or spirits? >> I like all three. When was the last time you ate Mexican food? >> I don’t remember. Have you ever watched yourself on video? >> Yeah. What time did you wake up today? >> I woke up the final time at about 8.30a or so. What time will you go to sleep tonight? >> I don’t know. A reasonable time, I assume, because we have a flight to catch tomorrow morning. Do you have separate emails for personal and business? >> No. Are you the eldest, youngest or a middle child? >> --- What’s your favourite vegetable? >> I don’t have a favourite. What colours are you wearing today? >> I’m wearing black right now. Do you have a subscription to any streaming services like Netflix? >> Yeah. Would you rather eat Italian or Indian food? >> Indian. Are you sitting, standing or lying down right now? >> I’m reclining in bed. Have you ever missed a flight? >> Yeah, but I just caught the next one. Are you someone who always needs a coffee before you can function? >> No. Do your neighbours have any pets? Have you ever met them? >> Probably. No. When was the last time you washed your hair? >> Tuesday, I think. What colour is your bedroom door? >> Brown. Have you ever seen a lunar eclipse? >> Yeah. Do you know your significant other’s passwords? >> Some of them. What was the last thing you said aloud? >> I don’t remember, it was last night sometime. Do you know anyone who writes huge essays when they message you? >> No. What’s your favourite type of salad? >> Mixed greens with a lot of crunchy stuff and vinaigrette dressing.

#surveys #survey #random survey

[nexhqs]

INTRODUCING EMMA PHILLIPS …

NICKNAMES : Em, Ems

GENDER : Cis woman, she/her

OCCUPATION : Preschool teacher

DATE OF BIRTH : 06/27/90

SPECIES : Human

FACE CLAIM : Candice Patton

❝  You have more kindness in your little finger than most people have in their whole body. And it has power. More than you know.  ❞

PERSONALITY

AESTHETIC — Waiting for the clock to strike midnight on New Years, fresh baked birthday cake, dancing barefoot in your kitchen, neatly organized notes, singing off-key in your car, a sheet of golden star stickers, chocolate chip cookies, pink wine, a night full of stars, dainty gold jewelry, scrapbooks full of memories, golden retrievers, driving around to see the Christmas lights, sunrise, the feeling of the sun on your skin. 

LIKES: Top 40 radio, baking, color coded pens, working with children, cheesy romance novels, Twizzlers, coffee with ridiculous amounts of milk and sugar, the color yellow, spring, wildflowers, rainstorms, rom-com movie nights, buttery popcorn, dogs and puppies of any kind. 

DISLIKES: All parts of winter except for the holidays, horror movies, white chocolate, black coffee, the smell of cigarette smoke, classical music, shoes with heels that are too high, her father, skim milk, waking up early. 

BIOGRAPHY –

content warnings for n/a.

    It was supposed to be a white picket fence life. Two parents that loved one another very much, a house big enough to start a family in the suburbs of Springfield, Missouri. Her existence was well prepared for, a mother with a predisposition to anxiety had baby-proofed the house tenfold. But when Emma came into the world, a real thing rather than a concept, and her mother was enveloped by post-partum depression, resentment built. Depression turned to hate, and aggressive feelings built that her daughter would one day betray her as Maude Phillips watched her daughter played with Barbies or tea sets. Aggressively protective and fearful of danger outside of the Phillips family home even in spite of distaste for her eldest, Maude’s intense emotions could only be quelled by her husband. Even after Emma’s younger siblings were born — twins, six years her junior — she was always the golden child to her father. Thick as thieves from the time she could babble, long books were read through as bed time stories and camping trips were made. It was difficult for Emma to go unnoticed under a mother’s frosty gaze, with her standing behind her father and maternal focus on the twins.  

And then he was gone. Without a word — allegedly across the country or out of it with his secretary at work. Emma waited up for him for many nights, leaving the porch light on — but eventually she found a groove in taking care of the other two children he had abandoned, and between ushering them to school and trying not to burn dinner, there was no longer any time to sit in the front of her house and wait for someone who was never coming home. Checks were sent every month by grandparents down in Louisiana, a sympathy check rather than a child support one, and Emma got a job as soon as she could. Maude worked on and off in odd jobs, but most days she stayed in bed, staring at the wall or sleeping. When she did wake up, and try and help a little — it usually resulted in Emma being screamed at for doing something wrong in raising the twins. The cycle continued until they received a phone call, several months before Emma was set to graduate high school: her grandfather had died in the weeks since they’d returned from her grandmother’s funeral, and Maude was now the owner of the house in Eden.  

They lived there until Emma graduated and turned 18 — both within a few days of one another, spending just a month in Eden high. She was promptly kicked out by her mother, left to take out piles of loans for her acceptance into the local Pritchett university. She found a roommate, friends, a job after college … she made a home for herself in Eden, even after losing hers so long ago.  

CONNECTIONS –

JACK DETLER – One of two best friends, Jack and Emma are two peas in a pod. Both of them dream of better lives — traveling the world to the most beautiful places, falling in love with someone, getting their white picket fence lives with kids and dogs and happiness. But those are just dreams for now, and the duo is content to instead share bottles of wine and how many wishes they share.  

ODETTE ROSILIO –  The second listed best friend, though Emma loves them both equally. They aren’t exactly, however, a pair that makes as much sense. Originally, Emma and Odette got off on the wrong foot, but after being brought together, an unlikely bond was formed. Emma gets unasked for but much needed life advice from Odette on how to trust a little less and be smart a little more, and Emma in turn works at trying to get the other to warm up more. Both things are a work in progress.  

PENNED BY MEREDITH.

#emma phillips. #by meredith.

[outremerhq]

Player information: [Jack, 23, They/Them, AEST, spiders]

CHARACTER

Skeleton: The Sovereign.

Full character name: Empress Ekaterina Azar, Hunter of Kings.

Character age: 31

Gender identity and pronouns: Cisgender female, She/Her.

Faceclaim: Lyndsy Fonseca.

Connection: N/A

Position: Empress.

Personality: Ekaterina is a naturally cunning and witty person, with a tendency to manipulate those around her for own benefit. She is also dutiful to a fault, and extremely protective of those who are known as family– specifically her biological sister. Ekaterina is also very clever and empathetically intelligent as she can read people quite well, and is known for her exceptional talent for lying. Due to this, it can be hard to tell when she is being honest and when she is not. She is also quite sly, thinks with logic and reason over emotion and heart, though that does not mean she does not care for people. Random acts of kindness toward those she knows and trusts are not uncommon; she never expects anything in return. While she can be cold at times, even downright cruel, it is out of a sense of justice that she acts this way, and a natural reaction to those whom she does not know or does not trust. She can also be quick to anger, but exerts control over herself so as not to let that side dominate. Cutthroat, ambitious, adaptable and calculating, Ekaterina is not someone you want to be on the bad side of.

BIOGRAPHY

Found in rags, delirious, yet still gripping the hand of her sister, the two girls were an unusual arrival to the Empire. They had been starved, abandoned and at Death’s door when a soldier discovered them. It was mere days that they stayed with the soldier and his comrades; news of them had spread to the ears of the Empress and they were immediately summoned to her palace. Only muttering simple words or nonsense when spoken to, the eldest seemed impossible to get through to. But where others saw a lost cause Shantia saw possibility. Taking both girls in, they were cared for, fed, clothed, and Shantia visited them as often as she could. It seemed she had taken a shine to the poor girls, and with time, her patience rewarded her. From whispers behind closed doors to full sentences in public, though the eldest never gave her true name, it seemed they were recovering from whatever trauma had occurred.

It took months before she was given a name: Ekaterina. She took an interest in a vast number of activities; spending time with the guards and learning how to fight and defend, reading countless books, dutifully learning etiquette, and riskiest of all, spying and listening in on conversations. Naturally suspicious and cunning, Ekaterina took to life in court as easy as breathing, staying close to the Empress nearly always. And Shantia, generous and loving, named Ekaterina and her sister as her own, adopting them and giving them more than they ever could have expected out of the world they had been born into. Their previous life nothing but a mere echo of who she had been, Ekaterina pledged all she had become in unshakeable loyalty to the Empress, her mother and the Empire she surveyed. And for a while, she was happy. With a mother that hadn’t given up on her, a family that accepted their peculiarities and humble beginnings, and her sister still by her side, it was enough.

The Siege of Kiev was nothing she had never been prepared for, the spilling of blood at the borders of the Empire almost too far away for someone like herself to worry about. Defying warnings and wishes of those closest to her, Ekaterina took up a blade and travelled to Kiev to take it back for her mother, knowing that she could be one of many casualties in the revolts but too determined to protect what had become her home. With her training and skill, she was appointed as a commander of their troops in the city; Kiev was crucial in the Empire holding its power in the region and she refused to let the Empress down. And when the attacks came, she was steadfast, her blade guided by a duty to keep their enemies at bay. Each victory brought morale and strength to the Empire’s soldiers that she fought alongside, and they fended off the attacks each time. It was bloody but through sheer force of will, Ekaterina managed keep a steady grip on the city, never allowing herself to falter in battles.

And then she learned of what she had missed, away from her family and unable to prevent the tragedies. Too concerned with the attacks at their borders, Ekaterina had never thought they would make it close enough. And now, with the council near destroyed, and Shantia murdered… it inspired unbridled fury within Ekaterina that has not since ceased. She had wrestled Kiev from the hands of the rebels that sought to steal it from them, separated the heads from the bodies of would-be usurpers and yet it might have been all for nought. It seemed all was crumbling. Refusing to bow to their enemies, Ekaterina held Kiev for Shantia, fueled by the anger inside her until their claim in the city had been rooted, and she was summoned back to Antiva. She was declared a hero, The Hunter of Kings… so many titles that she did not believe belonged to her. And when the time came to elect their new leader, she was propelled into the role by people who trusted she could honour Shantia’s legacy. To be appointed Empress… Ekaterina could not stand before her allies and refuse– not when they had already lost so much. And dutiful to the end, she knew that no other man or woman could truly take up the role. Pulling close those she could trust in order to salvage the leadership they had lost, she then began to plan.

There is no doubt that she must live up to incredible expectations, and not only defend every corner of the Empire– her Empire –but heal the parts that have been wounded in the revolts. The responsibility to rally support, to recover from the gaping loss and to re-establish the people’s faith has fallen to her, though she will not allow herself to buckle underneath the pressure. Ekaterina will be a ruler to be reckoned with, and those who ever presumed they would cause her home to fall to ruin will regret every one of their actions.

HEADCANONS

Contrary to the belief that surfaced when they were first found, Ekaterina and Emmeline are not full biological siblings. They share a father, who abandoned them either in exchange for money or simply because he did not want to look after his daughters– Ekaterina cannot remember exactly why he left them nor what she was called before, but does not bother to think on it and does not treat Emmeline as anything but a sister to her.

In her younger years, Ekaterina wanted to train to become an assassin for Shantia, having learned how to fight from the guards that were stationed at the palace when she was growing up and teaching herself ciphers and codes while perusing the many books and pieces in their library. She had always assumed leadership would fall to someone else, and not as soon as it did to her, and thus had wanted to serve the Empress in a field that she felt she would excel in. Because of this, she is extremely fit and agile, has learned many languages, finds it easy to hide in plain sight if she wishes, can wield many blades and a gun if necessary. All skills which she will use in her future endeavours as Empress.

Ekaterina often spends her free time reading, and when she was younger it was not uncommon for her to be found curled up in a chair asleep with several books stacked up or opened around her. As someone who barely knew about the world, she was eager to learn everything she could, and still accepts the fact that she cannot truly know all there is to know. However, that does not mean that she has ceased her pursuit of knowledge, aware that every little tidbit of information, no matter how small, that she soaks up could be of use some time in the future.

Welcome to Outremer, Ekaterina! Please follow our checklist and send in your account within 24 hours!

#outremer;accepted #submission

[lovemesomesurveys]

What's your favourite type of bird? I don’t have one. How many friends do you have on Facebook? 100-something. What was on the last sandwich you ate? Bologna, Colby Jack cheese, mayo, and mustard. What sort of music did you listen to when you were in high school? A variety of music. Do you prefer gold or silver jewellery? I like both.

Have you ever gotten back together with an ex? Yes. How far away is the closest store to your house and what is it? There’s a CVS and a local grocery store just a few minutes drive away. What is your favourite Thai dish? I’ve never had Thai food. How many contacts do you have in your phone? *shrug* When was the last time you made out with somebody? It’s been several years. What month of the year was your mother born? She probably doesn’t want me sharing that. Do you have any friends that seem to know all the hot gossip? -- Are there any candles in your bedroom, and what scent are they? Nope. What tv show(s) have you been watching currently? I watch a lot of shows. When was the last time you went to a birthday party? It’s been a few years. How many apps do you have on your phone? A lot. What pet names do you use with your significant other? -- Do you have to wear a name badge where you work? -- Do you have a dress code or have to wear a uniform where you work? -- What brand is your toaster, if you have one? I don’t know what brand it is. Have you ever dated a smoker?  I haven’t. Are there any movies you've seen so many times? Yeah, there’s several movies I’ve seen many times. What was the last thing you purchased with cash? Food. Can you hear anything right now? The ASMR video I’m listening to. Is there anybody else in the room you're currently in? Nope. What's the name of the store you usually get your groceries? Wal-Mart. Would you rather travel to Japan or Scotland? Scotland. Does your house have a porch/balcony? No, I wish. What's your usual order when you go to a coffee shop? Either a brewed coffee, a white chocolate mocha, or a caramel macchiato. If it’s Starbucks I get a peppermint white chocolate mocha. Have you ever seen a theatre show? Yeah. What was the last movie you saw and who did you watch it with? In theaters it was A Quiet Place 2 with my mom and brother. What is your mother's first name? I don’t know if she wants me sharing that either. Do you like to dance? My dancing is just bobbing my head and moving my arms and shoulders a bit.

What's your favourite type of bread? White, wheat, sourdough. Do you receive catalogues and brochures in your mailbox? Yeah. What colour is the sky right now? Black. Do you share a middle name with any of your siblings? No. I don’t know any siblings with the same middle name. Have there ever been any bushfires/wildfires in your area? Yeah. My state in general is prone to them every summer.  How would you label your sexual orientation? I’m straight. When was the last time you took a nap during the day? A few days ago. The way this is worded is weird cause isn’t during the day when you would take a nap? Like, that’s a given so it doesn’t need to be said lol. What did you have to eat for dinner last night? Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, and fettuccini Alfredo. Have you ever been a member in a band? No. Are you double-jointed? My thumbs are. What was the last thing you had to drink? Water. Do you currently have any bruises on your body? Not that I know of. Who was the last message you received from and what did they say? My brother texted me earlier to ask me something. What colour are your eyes? Brown. Can you cry on command? If so, have you ever used it to your advantage? I’m always crying now I feel like so maybe I could. Do you consider your goals easily achievable or are they pretty grand? I need to set some first. :/ What's your favourite kind of accent? British and some southern accents. What time does the sun go down where you live at this time of the year? About 830. Do you prefer beer, wine or spirits? None. When was the last time you ate Mexican food? This past Sunday. Have you ever watched yourself on video? Yeah. Ew. What time did you wake up today? A little after 9. What time will you go to sleep tonight? Likely around 4 or 5AM as per usual. Do you have separate emails for personal and business? No. Are you the eldest, youngest or a middle child? I’m the middle kid. What's your favourite vegetable? Spinach, potatoes, green onions, broccoli. What colours are you wearing today? Black, lavender, white. Do you have a subscription to any streaming services like Netflix? Yeah, we’re subscribed to several of the streaming services. Would you rather eat Italian or Indian food? Italian. Are you sitting, standing or lying down right now? Sitting. Have you ever missed a flight? No. Are you someone who always needs a coffee before you can function? Yeppp. Do your neighbours have any pets? Have you ever met them? Yes, and they bark excessively. When was the last time you washed your hair? A couple days ago. What colour is your bedroom door? White. Have you ever seen a lunar eclipse? No. Do you know your significant other's passwords? -- What was the last thing you said aloud? ”It’s so hotttt.” Do you know anyone who writes huge essays when they message you? No.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

[mulliganisms]

I saw 3 sips then I had a bells

Nothing beats the old fashioned pub  especially an Irish one but they are now virtually extinct. We should share pictures of property developers jangling their keys outside of closed boozers on Facebook to shame them.  Liverpool Rd N1 mid 70s, one such pub open on a Christmas night -the key to a great holiday for Himself. Himself has to get out Christmas night- his sire, Aulfella was always rearing up, undoing the hard work of Mam. Aulfella was capable of loving or hating anything at any given, depending on his temper. He hid his good moods in the same place as his money - under the carpet in the front room, reaching for them both when he was on his way to Da pub or da club.

Your best guess as to the name of a pub where the Provisional IRA paper An Phoblacht was sold openly, tricolours decorated the wall and the jukebox featured anti -internment hit The Men Behind The Wire? The Crown of course ( I always add upside down as a nod to the Celtic FC halftime favourite Irish Soldier Laddie) For Himself the test of a decent Irish bar is the Guinness - you can tell a decent pint when you can see mark of each sip on the side of the glass. I offer three swallows for you this season - let’s start with a huge, thirsty gulp.

Liverpool Rd N1 mid 70s, a proper Irish pub The Crown. Himself is there with his first proper girlfriend - Dixie. They are deep into their relationship having met across a crowded home and wear department in Tesco Chapel Market. I’m Not In Love played, his hands on her waist and...breathe (exhale loudly. A glance down at the gap left between the skin  of her back and the waistband of the Wranglers reveals a possible future of bliss - the white bra strap shining in the UV light. ..a reverie...were these the hips that turned a thousand faces and burnt red these cheeks of Islington? A small cry escapes her lips - Sorry love - those plastic sandals are harder to manoeuvre than the Green Flash I normally wear for dancing.

Mam was of a somewhat sunnier frame of mind - where she hid when depression struck we never did find out though Himself and  Dabrudders found most of her hiding places. In earlier years, Accomodation was an old store of some kind affectionately known as the shop. Upstairs one bedroom,with two bunk beds and a cot a sitting room with a pull down bed and a stereogram. Downstairs a shop floor with building gear covered in dust sheets, a kitchen with coal fired stove leading out to a yard. The toilet was reached by a run through a coal cellar sometimes fast, sometimes slow ,,, record time on return from a camping trip in Youghal which included The Return of Dracula one night (rather lax enforcement of X certificate in Ireland) and waking next morning to discover the tent had been pitched beside a slaughterhouse - sheep skulls stretched out in greater numbers as the tide retreated from the stony atlantic shore.

In the cupboard in this  dungeon was where the Christmas presents were hid - and played with/ sometimes ruined long before the day. Mam commented on the odd angle of the crossbar on the subbuteo goals - a few years later we could’ve blamed the Tartan army saying it was a souvenir set of Wembley 77. Himself just used a Swan vesta and Mam’s hairnet to repair it (the onion bag not being to scale).

The shop went as part of slum clearance, as did most of the other condemned buildings. Himself and his moved into the renovated Victorian terrace - into the nineteen seventies - bathrooms and central heating , into the peak of Equality in the UK. The new neighbours’ eldest worked part time at Tesco Chapel Market and through this network Himself impressed enough at interview to collar a role packing cheese and butter then progressing to staffing the Deli counter in a double act with younger brother Seamus. Union membership guaranteed good wages which rose in line with inflation of which there was plenty .

Time honoured courting process was in place from the first time he saw the poppers on the nylon housecoat struggling to contain the developing curves. His cotton overall hid his embarrassment but not his intention - all boys schools did not prepare you well for this. Even the Drama teacher the fifth form swooned over paled in comparison. And then their story started - a word in his shell like -not a letter in the Hardy/ Shakespeare/ Tolstoy mould but a hand gesture to approach a friend - not like today. Sexting was Chelsea’s cup winning manager, Mobiles were Airfix planes on string and pawn featured in a passage from Christy Brown’s  Down All My Days which Aulfella could recite by heart - the good suit went in Monday and was redeemed for Sunday mass. Himself was onto a sure thing - if he asked her to dance at the Xmas social she’d say yes.

Consider the obstacles there: asking - the potential for rejection greater than the selection of the Park football sides where every choice was carefully considered to produce a finely calibrated balance. Fourth best defender gone would you select the second best header without the guarantee you’d land a crosser from the top five?  Dancing here did not mean a hustle a bump or even the ska shuffle all of which he could handle. No The Smiley’s People double agent meant a slow dance. So he watched the couples, the elder siblings the pairings of someone’s mate and someone’s sister. Some still together celebrating their second grandchild…

It worked, Nature  took over they “got off”, “pulled” and then they were “going out”. This did not mean going out that much as funds were somewhat limited, opportunities even moreso. There was a date culminating in a faint prompted by a Sissy Spacek  bloodbath scene. The Odeon Holloway Rd witnessed many a coitus interruptus in its years and this apology laden nursing scene in the foyer echoed many of the experiences Himself and Herself played out. Himself caught the climax of the film   a few years later at college ; ditto the coitus although that was more to do with a Malt Liquor (Breaker, Colt 45 ) for 10p promotion - and  Carrie herself could not have levitated his head  off the pillow the next morning.

No, going out meant staying in with the occasional foray for a coke float at Wimpy with unattached girlfriends (never my mates) including Margaret.  Sitting indoors then in a council maisonette. The sitting room was long with the auditorium seats pointed at the shrine - the rented colour set delivering nightly delights. On the sofas, the Elder sister and Geezer fiancee (saving for wedding so not going out) on the armchairs Graham and Ivy the parents, Between them our would be lovers. Telly and smoking that was the evening - Whan the Bert Comes In, Carry On something and Rich Man Poor Man. .When the folks went dahn ve Legion the vinyl came out - Atlantic Crossing with its slow side and fast side and David Essex’s concept album All the Fun of the Fair. Himself had just begun to achieve some minor plateaued competence on the Hofner Guitar Aulfella had bought from a Showband mate (typically flamboyant gesture and much loved) so this obviously was the equivalent of a masters in Musicology allowing him to pontificate and evaluate all music ever created or about to be - for Heads like him and his best mate Pat most music was judged and unless suitably complex, the black cap came out. Himself kept these opinions to hisself or there would be no goodbye fumble in the porch, no warm lips, no ambition destroyed by parental knock, no warmth enough to see him the ten minute walk home.

But in the Crown buoyed by a half pint the opinions flowed as freely as the song. Xmas evening found them with unattached friend Margaret and her extended family of Lydons as in John. The patrons rotated the singing some better than others but all applauded/ gently ribbed then it came to John himself. He starts doing white Christmas, HImself  joins in forcing JL to go faster,make more of a mess of the melody, savour the lyric, thrash it - invent punk This bit might be somewhat exaggerated in memory, especially as JL was not even there.

That’s the first sip now the second and the third, happy ending.

That Pub, When the comedian Himself returned to The Crown years later it had become Waxys Dargle - a theme Irish bar, Shane Mcgowan’s local, etc. Singing would get you barred. There were no old men in suits and ties. Now it is a block of flats. Himself remembered the Goldsmiths Tavern in New Cross - put up a sign no  hats / no guinness - code for  No Blacks no Dogs no Irish I guess. That sign always conjured up an image of Phil Lynott  trudging from door to door whispering to the Jack Russell nestling beneath his Afghan coat - dont worry me darling their women go mad for me. One year, Himself and da family minus one acted in chorus and decamped to The George in Essex Rd where with the families of Dabrudder’s Sunday football side they created a kind of mad  talent show where audience and performers became one - a communion as Boal would call it. Twas grand - it’s now a gastropub where three organic cherries on the slot machine means a village in Cambodia gets a new goat. the pub quiz includes questions based on the budapest metro map of 1959 and it offers 65 different ales in flavours like panetonne and panfried liver but only one mode of atmosphere - tedious. Gentrification as effective a migration prompt as Potato blight.

Gentrifiers

Chorus - Making your town cool - house price house price house price school - repeat ad nauseam

We think buy to let’s an absolute disgrace/ glad we bought 5 at the old stamp duty rate

Here’s to our genius - or was it / our parents stumping up the dough for the deposit

Agents call this place Shoreditich Lite/  I call it prosecco - bubbly bland and white

So pass the craft ale pass the tapenade / if someone mentions brexit pass the hand grenade

Otag kebab’s been skewered by souvlaki food carts/ I loathe graffiti but our kids study street art

Pie and mash, licquor, winkles and wallies are all rebooted as cuisine a la cockney

Fiver for a loaf of bread a petition vs. greggs / Costa flipping coffee costa flipping arm and leg

Can’t buy malt vinegar to put upon your plate just condiment fundamentalists of balsamic state

Riding Monday then flute, Latin Greek / by Tuesday we’re into the rhythm of the week

Lance flunked the grammar despite all the tutors So Granny pays the fees at st mediocres

Everywhere the skips and signs shout out: we’re cooling up your town - time to get out

Repeat chorus and fade