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#but it’s still nice yk

thekidsarentalright · 2 months

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Hey, I've seen a lot of reasonable discussions about Gabe's zionism and I thought his latest comment on his initial post would be worth sharing. It was posted about 20min ago

It's not a perfect response, but I think it honestly is pretty acceptable. What are your thoughts?

thank you very much for sharing this with me! though i’m, of course, no expert on this my initial reaction to reading that is to agree with you- it isn’t perfect, but the level of self-reclection and accountability being taken by him there Is better than anything i could’ve hoped for. it’s a step in the right direction, i think, and i can only hope he continues showing this level or more of growth and education on what is happening in palestine and that his previous behavior and statements were Not acceptable. perhaps it’s the bare minimum or Veryyy close to it considering the harmful rhetoric he had been sharing, but some level of growth from that is still reassuring to witness.

#so sorry if this isn’t as eloquent as i wanted it to be i’m very tired but wanted to answer this asap!!!#also i hope i’m not coming off as too graceful Or harsh on him or anything it’s kinda like. it’s a reassuring step but i hope it isnt all #we see yk? i hope he engages in more discussion and reflection that helps him grow further and something from fob would still be nice #but still! much better than anything i was hoping for. thank you again for sharing!#asks #alittleannihilati0n

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sassy-bitch-since-2007 · 8 months

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Headcanon for Island of the Slaughtered : Of all the survivors (Gwen, Duncan, Katie, Lashawna, Cody, Izzy and Eva), only Cody felt bad about Heather dying. That's because she's never been mean to him, unlike with the others (especially Gwen and Lashawna). He wanted to go back and help her, but Gwen took hold of his hand and dragged him away- which was for the best, as both Cody and Heather would have died in that scenario.

I think, of all the campers on the Island, only Cody, DJ and Harold got along with Heather. That's because they saw some good in her, despite her mean and harsh personality.

Side-Note : More people felt bad about Noah's death due to the circumstances, but if he were to die differently (like Courteney or Heather) only Cody would've been affected by it. That's because, again, Noah's never been mean to him, unlike with the others.

#island of the slaughtered #i fully believe this #Also that's lowkey canon in the show lol. With her being in good terms with Cody in TDWT ; Harold helping her at the end of TDI/start of #TDA (yk to get the money?? Yk that special episode between the seasons) and whatever they had in TDA (I can not remember TDA that season #Was like a fever dream to me but I'm pretty sure she and Harold got along) ; her being nice to DJ in TDWT (yk it was a strategy but still #Can't remember her being mean to DJ.#Anyway if all characters has their personality from season 1 (when the action actually takes place) then both Noah and Heather are a pain #In the ass. Everybody lowkey hates them. Besides Cody for some reasons #island of the slaughtered noah #Island of the Slaughtered Heather

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lesbiradshaw · 11 months

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liam doesn’t remember theo helping hold him back from nolan. he doesn’t remember theo repeatedly keeping him from doing something he’d regret. he doesn’t remember theo carrying him to the truck and placing him in the passenger seat. he doesn’t remember theo wiping the blood from his knuckles before starting to drive. all he remembers is waking up to theo smiling at him softer than he ever has before and doing his best to offer him comfort.

#wish i was normal an them but here we are #do yk how hard it had to have been for THEO RAEKEN to figure out how to be nice/kind without having it come off as a manipulation tactic #like 😭#the tone he takes at the zoo while asking if liam is ok and the genuine concern when he tries to offer explanations so liam wont have to #when ur trying to bare ur souls to one another but still cant admit you no longer hate each others guts #triggers car scene will remain in my mind forever like there are many layers here guys #thiam #theo raeken/liam dunbar #theo raeken x liam dunbar #theo/liam #theo x liam #6.16 triggers #teen wolf

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toriangeli · 2 months

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"I understand you only too well..." I said. "That passivity in me has been the core of it all, the real evil. That weakness, that refusal to compromise a fractured and stupid morality, that awful pride! For that, I let myself become the thing I am, when I knew it was wrong. For that, I let Claudia become the vampire she became, when I knew it was wrong. For that, I stood by and let her kill Lestat, when I knew that was wrong, the very thing that was her undoing. I lifted not a finger to prevent it. And Madeleine, Madeleine, I let her come to that, when I should never have made her a creature like ourselves. I knew that was wrong! Well, I tell you I am no longer that passive, weak creature that has spun evil from evil till the web is vast and thick while I remain its stultified victim. It's over! I know now what I must do. And I warn you, for whatever mercy you've shown me in digging me out of that grave tonight where I would have died: Do not seek your cell in the Théatre des Vampires again. Do not go near it."

I will never forgive the show if they cut this speech, because Jacob is going to earn an Emmy with it.

#same way he earned one for the confession #and didn't even get a nod #but yk it was still worthy of one #louis de pointe du lac #iwtv #iwtv amc #iwtv spoilers #claudia de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #madeleine #interview with the vampire #armand #louis is the embodiment of 'beware the nice ones'

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friendly-alien-fucker · 2 years

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Wee woo! I was wondering if you could write a male Yautja with a protective human mate? Even tho humans are WAY weaker.

What if another Yautja was insulting y/n, they doesn’t really care, then y/n’s mates comes out and is about to start shit. Then the rude Yautja insults their mate, before hubby can do anything to protect their honor little y/n knocks the guy tf out. What did we learn? Don’t talk shit about y/n’s mate.

Alien husband be like🧍‍♂️hold up-

Sorry if that was super specific, it’s been on my mind for a while and I haven’t been able to pleasingly write it for myself T^T

Your writing gives me something to look forward too at the end of a long, exhausting day. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. <3

A Yautja with a very protective human mate

Thank you very much for this request, @looseratinthegarage , I hope I met your expectations! 💖

Warnings: cussing, insults, fighting but nothing too serious

________________________________________

You weren't quite popular amongst your alien shipmates. Not that it was much different from when you lived among humans, but at least they usually had the decency to wait until you left the room to talk shit about you.

Here, yautja would talk about you in plain sight, often looking at you while they did so. And instead of insults being muttered under their breath, they'd sometimes even stop you in your tracks just to let you know how little they valued your existence. They were obviously trying to get under your skin, which is why you tried so hard to just ignore their comments.

If you're being honest, you didn't mind them that much anyways. It was actually kinda refreshing- having people tell you what's on their mind for a change, even if it was negative.

But even then, you had to draw the line somewhere.

Today was Saturday, or at least you thought it was. Dates kind of blurred together since you moved onto the ship, but you still tried to retain some sort of routine. You had made some plans with your mate today since they didn't plan to go on a hunt, and you'd long been waiting to do something romantic for them. Well, as romantic as it can be when your life is reduced to a ship on which most areas you didn't have access to.

Looking yourself up and down in the mirror, you flashed a smile before taking your pocketknife and hiding it somewhere with easy access. It was almost time for your mate to arrive, and you'd intentionally picked an outfit you knew they enjoyed seeing you in.

With a kick in your step, you turned around to leave and made your way to your mate's quarters, only to meet them about halfway there.

"ah, there you are." you said and extended your hand, them gladly taking it, purring audibly as they did so "Are you excited?"

"You always excite me." they purred, grinning as they saw the blood rushing to your cheeks. You coughed, pulling on their arm as you led them to your first destination.

"yeah, yeah. You can tease me later. Right now we've got better things to do."

They tilted their head at you, having no problem keeping up even with you practically running to get where you wanted to go. "Which are?" they questioned.

"Patience." You scolded them, before you two turned a corner and got to one of the more populated areas of the ship. Something they didn't seem too fond of, gripping your hand so tight it almost hurt.

You stroked it reassuringly, looking up at them with a soft smile. They always worried so much about you, especially when around others of their kind. And though you understood why, you didn't want them to worry on your date. You wanted to make them feel good.

"hey, it's alright. C'mon, let me show you what I've planned for us." you took their hand up to your mouth to kiss it, before leading them into one of the rooms, which was filled with hand weapons and a large training area.

You had to hold in your laughter as you saw the question marks appear above their head.

"You...want me to train?" They asked confused. They were training a lot already, did you not think they were doing enough? Were you questioning their strength? They quickly shook that thought away. You had reassured them many times that you felt safe with them.

Then perhaps...

"I see." they hummed, taking one of larger blades and flexing their muscles. "You wish to watch me train, then?"

You laughed at this, gently taking the weapon and putting it back in it's place before taking a smaller one for yourself. You placed it's tip to your mate's chest threateningly, but they didn't as much as flinch as they looked down at you and raised an eyebrow. Cocky bastard... You lovingly cursed them in your mind

"Sort of. I want you to teach me." you say as you put the weapon back in it's place "You always worry so much, I thought this would help you sleep better knowing I could defend myself if the need arises." with delight, you watched as their eyes lit up at this and they moved towards you, obviously liking the idea.

Though before they could give you your first instructions, a loud growl came from behind, interrupting your little moment.

Annoyed, you spun around, meeting with the face of a yautia you've had the displeasure meeting before, but neglected to tell your mate in fear they might start a scene. Though obviously your efforts were now in vain.

"Why are you here?" They growled, not bothering to bend their back to look you in the eye, and instead puffing out their chest and, quite literally, looking down on you. "Do you enjoy taking up others space, ooman? Do you not realize that nobody wants you here?"

You rolled your eyes at their words. Can't you guys come up with something creative for once?

Getting ready to make a snarky remark, you got pushed back by your mate before you could open your mouth. Growling at them and flaring their mandibles, they stood before you, ready to defend your honor. You sighed, there it is. The Scene.

The other Yautja imitated your mate's stance, now directing their uncreative insults at them.

"And you, do you think there's any worth in that ooman you're mating? Or are you that incapable with your own species that you have to resort to... this" they spat, nodding in your direction.

Okay. Maybe a scene wouldn't be too bad right now.

Your mate was just about claw at them, when you stepped in. And before either of them could react you lurched forward to grab at their shoulder, using your leg to trip them and send them flying on their back. With a loud thud, they met with the ground, any attempts to get back at you dying as they saw the knife pressed firmly against their neck.

It was quiet for a few seconds as both of them stared at you in awe. Eventually, your mate stepped forward to place a warm hand on your shoulder. Their tone calm, but the look in their eyes and the loud purring showing just how ecstatic they were with what you just did.

"You're right little one, this does alleviate some of my worry."

#- and then they fcked lol #okay no but seriously #I really enjoyed this request even if it ended up being a little short but sometimes it just be like that yk #i hope you still liked it!#alien vs predator #yautja #alien #slasher #💚original post💚#yautja x reader #the predator #yautja x human #(also thank you for the nice words they really made my evening <3)

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jamietxrtt · 1 year

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im still baffled by the general response to ep 8 btw. sure the dialogue got a little cheesy at times, but the dialogue in this show is always like 15% cheesy? that’s why people like it lol.

i thought ep 8 was really good, plotlines were moving, drama was happening, characters and relationships were being tested. juno temple acted her ass off. i wish the whole season had been like this!

i really don’t understand why everyone disliked this ep so much. am i missing something? am i just looking for something different out of this show than everyone else is? i agree that the season as a whole has been… scattered, but i thought this past ep was really good.

am i missing something?

#i also feel so bad for keeley hazell #it seems like this ep was probably somewhat based on personal experience for her #considering keeley is based on her #and i really felt that genuine voice come through in the plotline and dialogue!#for the keeley parts anyway #but people are being brutal towards her specifically #i just. i’m baffled #sure the locker room scene was maybe a little preachy but like. literally this whole show’s premise is ted #standing at the front of a room and telling everyone to be nice #like i thought that was part of what we were signing up for lol #anyway. even with minor issues like that i still don’t understand how it could deserve a 6.6 on imdb?????#that’s lower than signs! i hated signs!#well not hated but yk #i certainly liked it less than this one lol #idk man. im just so baffled. like am i the wrong one here? am i missing something?#ted lasso spoilers

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thetomorrowshow · 7 months

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a stuffed deer

empires superpowers au masterlist (currently out of date)

this story takes place about one year after the end of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: past abuse, religious trauma, referenced past death, deadnaming/misgendering of a character (but the person isn’t really doing it out of mailce, and said character is dead)

The closer they get, the more anxious Scott becomes. His hands grip tighter on the steering wheel, he checks his mirrors more often, he glances over at Jimmy every couple of seconds.

This is fine. This is normal, even. He knows what he’s doing. He’s done far more terrifying things than this. He’s nearly died several times, he’s graduated college, he’s been a superhero for years.

He can face his birth parents.

He’s been talking to Nora about it for several months, and he’s come to the conclusion that he needs closure. Not about himself—he fully understands their feelings for him, and made peace with them long ago. No, he’s here for closure on Xornoth.

In the last minutes before their death, Xornoth had declared themself to be Scott’s sibling. As far as he knows, he’d been an only child. If what Xornoth said was true, that puts Scott in charge of any and all of their possessions currently being held by the city. Not that he wants them, but the mayor had asked him to pursue any leads he found on Xornoth’s next of kin and, even though it had taken him an entire year and a half, he finally feels ready to pursue the only one he’s ever had.

Jimmy’s fiddling with the radio next to him, switching between gospel and country. There’s not much else that comes through out here, and they’re going through a dead zone for their data plan, so Jimmy eventually just turns it off and sits back, not-so-subtly watching Scott. Scott resolutely keeps his eyes on the road.

They pass the exit for Milford. If Jimmy’s feeling all right after the visit, maybe they can stop by there, visit the library and community college and homeless shelter.

Half an hour until Briarsville. Scott shifts in his seat, taps the steering wheel lightly.

“What did you think of that motel breakfast?” Jimmy breaks the silence. “I thought it was decent—waffles are always good, at least. But I wouldn’t have touched those sausages with a ten foot pole.”

Scott had only eaten a slice of toast with some watery coffee, too nervous already to have any faith in his stomach. “Not the worst I’ve ever had,” he offers. Jimmy’s just trying to help him relax. He can humor his attempts.

“Well, yeah. I can remember a time when I would’ve killed for a motel breakfast—literally.” Jimmy chuckles nervously, tugs on his seatbelt. “Um—how much longer?”

“Half an hour,” says Scott too quickly. He checks the radio clock, then his rearview mirror. They’re almost there. His heart is really beginning to jump now.

The car is quiet again until they reach exit 42. Briarsville.

Jimmy straightens up, looks between Scott and the town that they’re pulling into. It looks like any run-of-the-mill midwest town, Scott knows. Even the Order of Heaven private school isn’t much of an indicator of anything abnormal.

“We can turn around, you know,” Jimmy says softly. Of course he’d noticed the nerves. Scott’s knuckles have turned white around the wheel, his back is ramrod straight, he’s barely spoken all morning. Jimmy’s not an idiot, and he’s more observant than most people know.

Scott forces himself to relax. “No. I need to do this.”

Jimmy nods and doesn’t argue him any further. That’s something that Scott will always love about Jimmy: he understands. He sees that this is important for Scott and would never try to keep him from it.

And then he’s turning onto Bloomfield Avenue, and he thinks that maybe Jimmy’s right. Maybe he ought to turn back now and cut his losses.

It’s still his last name printed above the door of the house three houses down. The welcome mat is that ugly, waterlogged brown thing that it had been before he’d left. His parents still live here.

Scott pulls into the driveway, then freezes.

“What if we just went home?” he says, voice pitched an octave higher than normal. “We can stop by the country music museum. Or the Appalachian one, I heard it’s—”

“Scott,” interrupts Jimmy. “Normally I would be fine with that, but you just told me you have to do this.” He takes one of Scott’s hands, runs his thumb over his knuckles. “This is important to you. I don’t want you to be kicking yourself for the rest of your life because you got all the way here only to turn back.”

Scott takes in a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out. Then again. Jimmy’s right. Jimmy’s absolutely right. “Yeah,” he whispers.

“And,” Jimmy continues, “if they try to hurt you in any way, I will kill them.”

“You’ve got to stop saying that about everyone we talk to.”

“Hey, I’m just really good at making things look like an accident. Some might even say it’s a superpower.”

“Jimmy.”

“Just saying.”

Scott laughs, kisses his boyfriend on the cheek. He’s ready now. He can go in.

He pulls the key out of the ignition and hops out, then circles round to offer his hand to Jimmy and help him up. Jimmy stops to grab his cane out of the backseat, then gestures encouragingly for Scott to lead the way.

Right. He has to actually go up to the door.

It’s the longest walk of his life, Scott thinks. Even the walk across the stage at graduation hadn’t been this long. But seconds yet seemingly hours later, he’s in front of the door, hand poised to knock.

He swallows, then bites the bullet.

Rat-tat-tat-tat.

It’s only a couple of moments before the door swings open, and his mother is standing before him.

She looks much the same, but changed. Her hair, once grey at the temples, is nearly completely grey with only a few streaks of its former blond. There are a few new lines in her face, only serving to add to the sallowness, the laugh lines he’d once known long-faded. Her hairstyle is the same as ever, her classic Christian mom fashion sense not any different. He takes in all of this, then properly meets her eyes.

“Hello, Mother,” he says, a shiver running up his spine.

She doesn’t say anything at first, eyes passing over Scott to examine Jimmy briefly, sizing him up like a bird of prey. Then she steps aside, pulling the door open wider.

“You’d better come in, hadn’t you,” she says, and the resignation lacing her tone is somehow so much better than the anger he’d expected yet so much worse.

The living room is different. There’s a new couch, pushed up against the wall opposite where it used to be. The easy chair is the same, but also tilted weird and there’s a coffee table for some reason when all it does is take up space. But Scott keeps his complaints to himself and steadies Jimmy as he lowers himself onto the couch, propping his cane up against the coffee table, then sits beside him.

His mother looks at the two of them with something unreadable in her expression, before leaving the room. She returns moments later with two glasses of water.

It’s a test, and Scott doesn’t know if she’s set it up like this or if he set it up for himself, but he takes the water from her hand and sends a little burst of freezing air to chill it, eyes trained on hers the entire time. She doesn’t react.

Jimmy takes his water with a muttered thank you, then she sits down in the easy chair across from them, crossing one leg over the other as she waits for Scott to break the silence.

He takes a sip of his now-cool water (Jimmy passes his own over and Scott forms some of the water into an ice cube before handing it back), takes a deep breath, and speaks.

“Is Dad home? Because—”

“He’s dead,” his mother interrupts. Scott blinks.

Two for two, his mind unhelpfully supplies.

Is he supposed to mourn an unloved parent? Is he supposed to mourn someone he used to care very deeply about, but proved that they didn’t care for him?

He’s not sure how to feel.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jimmy says beside him. “That must be terrible.”

“How long?” is all Scott can manage.

“Nearly two years, now,” she replies. “Heart attack while at work.” She clicks her tongue. “I was always telling him to lay off the salt, stop working so hard. Guess he suffered the consequences.”

Scott’s really not sure how to feel. The last memory of his birth father he has is of his face closing off, declaring himself to have no son, and banishing Scott from the house. Would he have liked to reconcile? Is parting easier with his last words being unforgivable?

“I’m so sorry, Mrs—”

“Heidi,” his mother corrects Jimmy, and Jimmy amends his words.

“I’m so sorry, Heidi. I can only imagine the pain.”

That’s the first thing to incite emotion in Scott, because Jimmy can’t only imagine that sort of pain. Jimmy’s lived through the death of loved ones without a house to live in afterwards or a community to support him. Jimmy’s had it worse off. Jimmy shouldn’t have to be placating his terrible excuse for a mother.

He must be getting tense, because Jimmy’s hand runs comfortingly along his knee, and Scott can almost feel the love and support that Jimmy imbues the touch with.

Heidi’s eyes follow the movement, and after a moment, she says gruffly, “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Right. This could go very badly.

“Mother, this is Jimmy, my boyfriend,” Scott says stiffly, before adding, “as in, romantic partner. We kiss. Each other.”

Her nose wrinkles in disgust. “Are you a gay now, then?”

Scott stares her down. “And if I am?” he challenges. “What are you going to do, kick me out again?”

She stares back for a long moment, a moment during which Scott’s certain she is going to kick them out—then she chuckles, shakes her head.

“You always were a bit sassy,” she says. “I ought to have known, really. But that can be said for a lot of things.”

“Speaking of things that ought to have been known. . . .” Jimmy hints, nudging at Scott. Scott nods, takes a deep breath, and forces out the question that’s been on his mind for so long.

“Did I . . . did you have any children before me?”

Heidi looks away suddenly, toward the TV. Her expression gives away absolutely nothing. “I thought that was Noah,” she says eventually. “His voice was already starting to change when he left.”

“Sorry—Noah?”

She looks back at him. “Your brother. He was fourteen when we noticed he was one of them. You were so young, I’m not surprised you don’t remember.”

Right, because it’s such a normal thing to destroy every trace of your child’s existence and raise the other to believe he never had a sibling.

But that means—

“I’ve seen the two of you on the news,” his mother continues. “Your father, too. He regretted what he did, Scott, after he saw how good your heart was.”

“So he just wanted to send me to conversion therapy instead, huh,” Scott mutters. “And that’s so much better.”

Heidi sighs. “We did what we thought we had to do, for both of you. We always hoped you would repent and come back.”

Scott wants to scream. He wants to scream and yell and freeze the entire house, because that may be the most insensitive thing he’s ever heard and his own mother is supposed to love him unconditionally, not act like this!

His hands are shaking. He doesn’t even notice until Jimmy eases the glass from his grip and rubs his arm. He needs to calm down.

But he can’t bear to look at the woman’s face for a moment longer.

“I think we’ll be going,” Scott says icily, moving to stand. Heidi stands as well, taking their glasses, then pauses on her way back to the kitchen.

“We donated your things,” she says, “but not all of it. Do you want any of what’s left?”

And as much as Scott wants to get out of here, he knows he needs to see whatever it is his mother decided to keep. So, after an encouraging squeeze from Jimmy, Scott follows her into the attic.

There’s only two things in the attic—two small trash bags, leaning against a wall to the side. With a nod from Heidi, Scott opens one of them up.

His monogrammed bible is on top. He has no interest in that. His Boy Scout pins and kerchief are here as well, more stuff he doesn’t care about. His birth certificate, which he does set aside (he already has a copy of it that he’d requested from the government, but it can never hurt to have the original), and a small photo album, which he sets aside as well. At the very bottom of the bag is his plush turtle, scruffy and old.

That he pulls to his chest, burying his nose into it. It smells pretty musty, which makes sense. It probably hasn’t been out of this attic in a decade.

It brings back feelings, looking at it. Not memories, not exactly, but feelings of a simpler time. Feelings from some vague past, where he had no troubles and his only concern was getting to school on time.

And more feelings. Feelings of deception, of hate, of guilt. The feeling of his world being flipped upside down and this plushie not being near enough to anchor it.

He wants to set it with his birth certificate and the photos, but it holds so much of this place that he’s not so sure.

He sets the turtle to the side and looks in the other bag.

Much the same stuff, and at first he inexplicably thinks this is an exact replica for some odd reason—but the name monogrammed onto this bible is not his.

Scott weighs it in his hands for a moment, then sets that aside.

There’s no photo album, but the same boy scout items and a birth certificate. There’s a plushie here too, though, a floppy deer, one of the antlers torn off and the hole it left carefully sewn shut. The fur is wearing thin in places, the beads for eyes have lost their shine.

It’s well-loved, as loved as Scott’s turtle, and for some reason, that makes him want to cry.

He’s not sure what to do with it. He still hasn’t really processed what his mother confirmed downstairs.

This stuffed deer belonged to the sibling he never met.

This stuffed deer belonged to Xornoth.

Can he take it?

Does he want to take it?

He sets it aside next to his turtle. At the bottom of the bag, there’s one last thing—a photograph, bent at the corner.

It’s older than any in the photo album, and Scott knows instantly that the child in the photo isn’t him. It’s a small child with a mop of dark blond hair, maybe three years old, wearing little red overalls and a white sweater, sitting on a push-bike and smiling up at the camera.

He can’t quite force his brain to make the connection. This child, so happy and young, grew up to be Xornoth. This toddler tried to take over the world.

He can process it later, he supposes, and he upends one of the bags to make sure there’s nothing else (there isn’t, so few of what once were his possessions leftover), then stuffs both his turtle and the deer in it, along with his birth certificate. He hikes the bag over his shoulder and picks up the photo of—of the child—and the photo album, before holding both out to his mother.

“Do you want any of these?” he asks brusquely. She takes the loose photo, then waves off the album.

“I’ve kept some of yours downstairs,” she says dismissively. “This is my only picture of Noah, though.”

Scott leaves the attic without another word, photo album chucked into the bag over his shoulder. He meets back up with Jimmy in the living room, who looks up from his phone with a questioning glance.

Scott sets down the bag, pulls out the turtle plushie. “This was mine growing up,” he says. Jimmy’s face immediately softens and he coos, reaching out for it. Scott hands it over, then removes the second stuffed animal.

This one he holds farther from Jimmy, because he’s still not sure if he wants to take it with him, despite the strange sense that he owes it to his lost sibling. “This,” he says carefully, “belonged to Xornoth.”

Jimmy’s face goes carefully neutral, and his hands still. “Oh,” he manages, and Scott can hear the change in his exhales as he immediately kicks into breathing exercises.

“We don’t have to take it if you aren’t okay with that,” Scott is quick to reassure. “We can leave it here, that’s fine. I’m sure my mother would appreciate it.”

“Why—why do you want it?”

That’s harder to answer, because Scott hasn’t figured out why yet. He’ll know when he comes across the answer, he’s certain, but it hasn’t made itself known to him in the five minutes that he’s known of his sibling’s existence.

“I don’t know,” he says eventually. He stares at the deer, at the faded pattern of its coat. “There’s some reason I want it, but I’m not sure what that is, yet.”

A little color has already returned to Jimmy’s face, and he doesn’t stutter when he speaks. “Is it part of your closure?”

He doesn’t know how, but Jimmy’s right. He nods. This is, in some way and fashion, a very important part of making peace with his sibling’s identity in his head.

“Then take it,” says Jimmy, handing back the turtle. He stands, slowly, supporting himself with his cane.

But it’ll hurt you, Scott wants to say. It’s clear that Jimmy doesn’t like the idea of taking this deer plushie home, doesn’t like the idea of it being in their house.

“Don’t worry about me, yeah?” Jimmy says, as if he can hear Scott’s thoughts. He smiles weakly, squeezes Scott’s arm. “I’ll be fine. This is about you.”

They leave with a quick goodbye, no attempts on either side to set up further contact. Scott just throws his things into the backseat with Jimmy’s cane, then drives away.

It’s just a week later when Scott drives out of the city to a park.

It’s a quiet park, just some trails and benches through the trees, and Scott stops at one of these trees and digs with the shovel he’d brought from home.

He digs alone, in the quiet shade of the trees, a light breeze rustling through them. And when he’s finished the job, a small pile of dirt beside him, he lays a shoebox containing a small stuffed deer in the little hole he’s dug.

He scrapes the dirt back over it with his shovel, pats it down a bit, and stands there. Just . . . stares.

Then, silently, Scott turns away and heads home.

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