#did this answer the question? debatable.

[sun-of-4-gun]

Stick, The Monkey King's Plot Device: An Analysis

a matter of Free Will, Creativity, Control, Ownership, Choice, and Consent of an animated inanimate character

aka chronological notes of what happens in the movie with interpretative thoughts

for 5,000 years, stick only ever stood in one place in silence

the crystal palace was either; built around him, or he was left there tho it's hard to believe the center pillar of dragon king's home just has a spot reserved for him. I believe it's the former however it was, he never had a choice

dragon had stick stuck in a machine that will force and use him and his power to create a storm and flood, which is the opposite of what his original purpose was that got him down there to begin with thousands of years ago. an overglorified water meter

monkey was in search of the ultimate weapon, but stick said the first word. he's been waiting and immediately calls him "the most powerful being". this is promptly followed by being complimented not once, but twice from the guy he just met (ie "you are incredible") it is important to note monkey had never any positive assurance in his entire life, yet he says these things to stick, he makes this about stick, rather than himself

stick jumps into action and carries the battle, but he prioritises monkey's safety

he is a go-getter, taking the lead to take his new friend forward. he is a driving force that enables monkey to do what he does. he is excitable, violent, eager to please. stick has never been used in so long, he has a lot of pent up energy just bursting to get out. he protects monkey, but he is obedient to the point of losing his self by taking things literally. this should teach monkey how he works, that he is dependent on his wielder, his master, and that's why he couldn't have left the palace or dragon himself. he is a tool, who's entire existence is in the hands of whoever possesses him. he wants to be used and be useful. he wants to serve a purpose

monkey tells stick what to do, he listens, monkey tells stick to stop, he does so. and stick will do the best possible thing for them to show monkey what they are capable of together, giving him the confidence to trust his weapon as much as stick's chosen to trust him, that no matter what happens as long they communication, they will have each other's back

stick shares monkey's joys and sorrows. he cheers along the troop for his new name and groans when it seemed monkey got sad. they share excitement and aggressive tendencies too

they are more like a single entity with two equal parts rather than a pair, but it's not wrong to call them that either. mind & body, heart & soul, in action they are one, as people they are two, but must be kept together in order to work perfectly. stick is an extension of monkey, and monkey is an extension of stick. they match each others freak save for minor differences in preference and personality. when not in use, stick stands on his own, he reacts similarly as monkey, turns to him, and provides emphasis for the occasional words. he is completely supportive and always by his side if only a foot apart or at arms length, never out of reach

monkey is the same in the way that he values stick's own desires that are seemingly separate from himself. he is considerate of his weapon's wants despite having no impact or benefit to his own except maybe boost his ego. they share an ambition, yet something so minor like playing the guitar is so important to him because it's something stick wants. he didn't even ask if stick wanted anything, he already has him in mind, it was a matter of what and absolute that he gets it

the theme song is sung by stick's voice actor, the singer "ultimate screaming master" aka nan li from voodoo kungfu, an outstanding "world heavy metal music" band. so you could say stick wrote and sang a song about monkey throughout their 99 demons together. I know the lyrics are from monkey himself, the words are his, stick is the music, together they create harmony

stick is bloodthirsty, and he is an artist. both actions are forms of self-expression after lying dormant for millenniums. the same can be said for monkey in that he created an imaginary family, paired with his and stick's signature head-bashing, skull-splitting move, except he does this in sought of attention for being deprived of it his entire childhood, stick has always been the center of, yet was never heard, and the only thought he wants and cares about is from monkey

it was his idea the way they defeat red girl, unpromptly suggested

stick left his "home", because he finally could. he was stolen from dragon, who housed him. he was found by monkey, who allows him to be. stick can't be on his own without his wielder's permission and even then they're in close proximity of each other. monkey allows for stick's autonomy and will to be as free as he can be. he treats stick like a person more than the actual people he interacts with, while dragon still treats stick as property even after discovering he could talk. he doesn't care that stick has feelings, he only wants to abuse his power

Monkey: “What's wrong, Stick? You know this chump?”

Dragon: “Stick? You never talked to me!”

when dragon showed up, this is the only time stick vocalised in a way that it aggravated monkey enough to close his ears. stick doesn't get to say anything else, and he doesn't have to because no one but monkey listens to him, he doesn't need an explanation to come to his friend's defence. the same way stick is in-between the demons and monkey, this time monkey is shielding stick from dragon. a former roommate, acts like a controlling parent or possessive ex

Monkey, to Dragon: “You love my Stick, everyone loves the stick, but no one appreciates Stick like I do.”

Stick: “[incessant urgent warbling]”

Monkey: “Quiet Stick, the grown-ups are talking.”

of course monkey isn't perfect either, in the heat of the moment he ignores stick to protect him, and stick never holds a grudge or resentment towards monkey for his blunders, only dragon was met with initial hostility, but then none at all for the rest of the movie. stick is never really even annoyed with his partner, it just seems like he loves everything about him and wants the best for him, because that would mean what's best for himself too

dragon tries to talk to stick to come back, but monkey says he only listens to him. dragon responds with "I don't see a ring on it, honey" which is from the euphemism for a marriage proposal. dragon clearly doesn't approve of their relationship though this implies that in order for them to be together, they need to be wedded

without monkey, stick doesn't have a will. without a person, he is useless. he has no life, no will to life. it's meaningless without monkey, who he's waited for forever

he laughs at his jokes, they share a sense of humour

stick knows about hell. he knows about the scrolls of life and death

he could not have learned this during the 100 demons slaying because monkey would have known. the reason why stick never mentioned "crossing your name to cancel your death in order to become immortal" is that monkey was under the impression he would win the immortal ones' approval by conquering demons like the elder lead them to believe. why stick never corrected him, this wasn't the mission. stick is at his service, not looking specifically for the most efficient way to do things. he is able to have fun and live his best life with monkey and if the adventure ends, what is there left to do? he wouldn't want to be abandoned again. so he answers monkey's questions because monkey asked, not because stick has an obligation to be conscious or aware of how things play out, but because he's literal and needs to be direct with. whatever it is, he will enable monkey's desires, because what he wants, they both do

they argue about bringing lin along, in which stick advocates for her and scolds monkey because he knows her worth and neither of them can read. if monkey completely owns stick, why would he allow him to knock some sense into himself and fight about something like this? does stick actually have free will to be independent and has merely been sassily playing with monkey and dragons feelings because he enjoys the attention of those two competing for him, or does monkey allow stick to be his own person without the restraint of pleasing his ego in that he is cared for even if he doesn't like it because he subconsciously understands he can't do everything on his own and needs stick to be his conscience too, for both their sakes

their expressions often mirror each other, the way they move even apart is in sync, and they exchange glances, like you do with your best friend

stick also knows about cloning, which he also never told monkey that he knows they can both apparently do. the situation called for it so it's pretty reasonable, but why does stick know more about monkey's abilities than he himself does?

steroids, another song by voodoo kungfu, is used during the fight

although apparently stick didn't know enough as "cancelling your death date" only makes you half-immortal, but monkey immediately blames lin despite it being entirely stick's idea

stick is already immortal, he's an eternal object and looks good for above 5,000 years old. he just needs to keep his friend, who he's known for at least a couple years, alive. least he becomes alone again

stick finds monkey's prank on lin hilarious, monkey makes him laugh

stick sings along with monkey while they search for lin, he yells at her after too

monkey considers stick his best friend and family

stick doesn't care to say anything during the entire peach grove scene. not about benbo & babbo, not about dragon, even though he was used to jab at him. monkey is drugged, therefore his mind isn't intact, which seemingly affects stick's behaviour as well in that he isn't very conscious. they both get knocked ou

he jolts awake after monkey does

stick is empathetic, monkey is apathetic. there is a little bit of the other to them in a yin-yang sense, because stick only empathises with monkey, and maybe lin twice on-screen, while monkey has no consideration for anyone but himself, stick, and eventually lin to an extent. they only care for each other, as stick isn't concerned about anyone else, but monkey does in a way. both for selfish reasons

stick cannot be wielded by a baby monkey, he goes to sleep

monkey tells stick to help lin, he shrinks down for her to use

he sleeps again when monkey is kicked through the roof

despite being unconscious, stick extends himself towards monkey to give the elixir

stick is just as excited as monkey is, if not more, and is ready to fight, but when lin falls, he got worried for her too

lin teases monkey, talking to stick, and he laughs with her. he isn't above laughing at his friend's expense and with someone other than him no less, someone monkey handed him over to in the moment. he was trusted with to assist her and wasn't even aware of lin's attempt to steal him away. if monkey was a controlling master and stick the obedient weapon that he is, how is it that he's able to freely make fun of his own best friend? monkey shuts him up, and he complies, but the fact is while he is always supportive of monkey, he is capable of poking fun at and arguing with him too, usually provoked

stick is left alone with lin again, and is promptly sold out

"momentary fling" sir this is a family movie

stick is inactive throughout his entire hold in dragon's clutches. he is nothing but a prize to be won, a tool to be abused. monkey may need him in every battle to win, but stick has been a damsel-in-distress twice. he is handled by dragon, forced back into a machine that awakens and makes him grow. none of this he chose, none he wanted, he can't leave without help. while he is fulfilling a purpose, he isn't doing this out of his own will. he doesn't choose dragon and doesn't consent to being used this way, but it doesn't matter because dragon doesn't need his compliance, as long the machine works and he's useful

they are so happy to see each other, and missed one another so much,,,

stick is devoted to monkey. he enables him, needs him for his entire being and existence. if it were to be anyone in the universe he will always choose monkey. caught in the middle of the final battle, despite the brief grasp dragon has on him, he is able to fight for his self because monkey is there for him to return to and fall back on. to live in utter depravity under someone who only takes from and forces you into doing his bidding, it's not living at all. monkey gives him a life, stick lives for him and gets to be himself because he's allowed to be as much of a person any object is capable of

monkey is incredibly significant to stick. he is his entire world, and the same goes for him to monkey

they're separated again, the last thing he heard was monkey's desperate cry of his name after he couldn't handle buddha's clutch

lin found stick, either by chance or he called out to her. and he shrank for her once more so she could easily reunite him with his monkey. he doesn't even know she's the one who gave him away, but I don't think he'd hold it against her. he's a staff, not human or demon with complex thoughts and feelings. a simple stick who has a colourful personality, vibrant soul, and passion for music

he flies right into monkey's hold thanks to lin

monkey is stick's home, he is his best friend, his family, his life. they are symbiotic and co-dependent, for breaking them apart would leave them wrecked on their own, one completely helpless and the other out of his mind. there is a fear of abandonment within stick and separation anxiety in monkey, but only one of them has the ability to do something about it, and monkey allows for stick to be unbound by his own ego. they're a team, each others comfort

they meditate together, being one with each other, and stick is just as important as monkey because "the world needs us"

to summarise; stick is a deeply emotional, straight-forward, fun-loving, whimsical, thrill-seeking sentient weapon who's been deprived of activity for thousands of years, which affected the way he expresses himself through bloodthirsty violence and screaming, but he does have an ambition to learn and play the guitar, already being a singer himself. it is a creative outlet for him to release all that pent up energy when he lay dormant, and is allowed the freedom to live a life he wants alongside the one person who values and loves him for who he is

in conclusion... they are both crazy, and stick likes that about monkey

[peaches2217]

Holy fucking shit, I think I figured out who’s been sending those hateful anons these past several months.

Firecat, if it’s you and you’re reading this, it’s been eight years. I say this with all the love in my heart: let it go.

[wh3atley-personality-core]

Davis

"Wha-Who-WHAT?! What is this picture? Who is Davis? Is it that man? If it's him, then how is he riding that axolotl? Aren't axolotls supposed to be really small? no small small, just, small, Axolotl size, preferably... or maybe Davis is the axolotl! He's ginormous! and really strong too, to be able to carry a man! Hey, if you can carry him, maybe you can carry me back to earth how does that sound?"

"We all can be friends and have adventures riding Davis!"

[thatswhatsushesaid]

there is a lot of very good commentary happening in the notes on that "did jgy kill jin rusong" poll in the tags, but i think i am finally too burnt out on that subject even to vote and reblog the poll. tl;dr i don't think there is a definitive answer either way and i don't need for there to be a definitive answer to find jin guangyao interesting and sympathetic.

[fisheito]

"makotolookinass"

the intersection of nu: carnival and free! fans that are all here because of our favorite green haired hunks (himbos?) is so funny

but it kinda makes sense given that both nu: carnival and free! are both at their core about caring about the people closest to you and prevailing internal struggles

dang , anonn, you really cut thru all the glamours of distraction

in brief contrast, i feel like a simple creature. one who was dragged into the intersection simply because i saw some dudes with Unlikely Physiques

[nana-glass-chillhop-radio-hour]

the gossip at the Grace must have been fucking crazyyyyyyyy

[storm-of-feathers]

who let Chris Christie out of hell :/

[cluescorner]

Randomized Robins AU - Ages + Worst Trait Exercise:

Steph (25):

Says her worst trait is her murderous rages (she is exaggerating for dramatic/comedic effect, she’s killed 3 people tops and for very good reason)

Thinks her worst trait is her spitefulness (one of the few traits she definitely got from her father + one that prevents her from fixing her relationships and living her best possible life. She’ll refuse to interact with someone she dearly loves after an argument (happens significantly less after Tim’s death) or will say things she knows are hurtful just for the sake of having the last word. This trait will worsen in some ways as the list of people who have wronged her and those she loves grows, but will also ease up as she matures and realizes the harm it’s doing to her relationships with those she loves most.)

Her worst trait really is her spitefulness

Cass (26)

Says her worst trait is her self-righteousness (she believes that her goals are righteous and, as a result, she is righteous. Cass becomes very defensive whenever someone questions the mission and often does not second-guess herself. This is a trait she only develops later in life as she grows closer to Bruce/learns to understand herself more/starts to love herself more. But she knows she isn’t perfect and when somebody she trusts criticizes something she is doing she is willing to listen. She just usually isn’t the one to START the introspection.) 

Thinks her worst trait is her self-righteousness. 

Her worst trait actually is her obsessiveness (she gets it from Bruce and, while not as bad as him, she will easily become preoccupied with her night-life and the mission if someone isn’t there to pull her back. She will do this to the point of self-destruction and it hurts her relationships with the people she loves, especially Steph.)

Tim (24)

Says his worst trait is his spitefulness (he actively rejects the idea of mending his relationships with the older members of the family and this causes him to also lack good relationships with the younger ones)

Thinks his worst trait is his obsessiveness (similar to Cass, if he gets fixated on a task or idea he will neglect everything else in his life in order to dedicate more time to it. Unlike Cass, he will almost never be dragged away from it unless Pierrot snatches control of the body and forces them to take care of themself.)

His worst trait actually is how manipulative he is (the KING of guilt-tripping and using people’s emotions against them. He’ll do whatever he needs to do to get what he wants, he’s not above crocodile tears. And he will do it to whoever he needs (or wants) to with little care for how his actions impact others.)

Pierrot (Insists: “Age doesn’t apply to me! And even if it did, I'd probably be the oldest. Or the youngest! I’d never be a middle child, though.” Mental assessments by the Bats have put him around 21, with a margin of error of 3 years. Pierrot has called this “blatant character assassination by my eternal rival!”)

Says his worst trait is that he is an irredeemable psychopath without any regard for the wellbeing of others (this is a lie and everyone who's important to him understands this). 

Thinks his worst trait is his parasitic nature (he literally would not exist had Tim not suffered the way he did. Plus he is a living reminder of one of the worst things that happened to many of his loved ones. He is a parasite injected into a functional person's body and contributes to his continued suffering. This is also a largely incorrect judgement of himself, caused by his actual worst trait.)

His worst trait actually is his limited sense of self (he doesn’t really know who he is outside of ‘inheritor to the legacy of the Joker (a man he despises yet also views as a father)’ and ‘chip in Tim’s brain that became sentient’. He slowly develops an identity over the course of his life and relationships with other people, but he lacks the foundations of identity that most people have. Pierrot will often almost become a caricature of himself and what others perceive him to be because it's the only person he knows how to be. This causes wild swings in how he behaves and relates to others, sometimes to the detriment of himself and others.)

Dick (17) 

Says his worst trait is his clinginess (he is a very extraverted person who likes to be around others, which mixed with his fear of abandonment after his parents died means that if he goes a few days without seeing/talking to a friend he will get very anxious.)

Thinks his worst trait is his anger issues (he gets ticked off very easily and will explode on people. He’s kind at his core and is usually very nice, but he has a temper that can escalate significantly. Spoiler (and later Twist) help him channel this anger into something positive.)

His worst trait actually is his anger issues.

Barbara (18)

Says her worst trait is her disability (internalized ableism, she thinks of herself as less valuable than the other Bats because she cannot be out there in the capes like they can. She will grow out of this as she matures and as she learns how invaluable her support for the team is.)  

Thinks her worst trait is her disability 

Her worst trait actually is her overly-independent nature (In an attempt to overcompensate for everything she can no longer do, she has resolved to do literally everything that she possibly can without any help from others. This results in many instances where she either takes on too much and winds up not being able to fully realize any of her tasks or where she makes her life and the lives of others significantly harder by refusing help when offered/not asking for it when she needs it.)

Damian (16)

Says his worst trait is his perfectionism (he is overly critical of both himself and others, taking any flaw or problem and amplifying it to an absurd degree. This is due in part to his life with the LoA (where even a brief misstep could lead to death), in part to how others treated him initially as Spoiler (any flaw was fixated on and used as a reason to either mistrust him or portray him as unworthy of the mantle), and in part due to the fact that he is Bruce’s son (the only person with worse perfectionism problems than Damian). Gradually, Damian has improved in this regard but it’s still a massive barrier to both his own happiness and his relationships with others.)

Thinks his worst trait is his perfectionism 

His worst trait actually is his perfectionism

Duke (16)

Says his worst trait is his definitely-real secret evil side (says this as a ‘my dad is a villain so who knows??’ joke)

Thinks his worst trait is his impulsivity in his words (Sometimes he will crack a joke or say a remark without thinking it through, leading to a LOT of hurt feelings and drama. He’ll say something without thinking it through and wind up seeming insensitive. This isn’t done because of malice, rather because Duke is someone who’s quick to act and speak. But while the mantle of Insight and his awakening powers have helped him with his actions, they do not always help with his loose tongue. As such, Duke gains an unfair reputation in the media as an instigator and will accidentally cause family drama through what he says.)

His worst trait actually is his impulsivity in his words

Jason (14)

Says his worst trait is his bad manners (he grew up on the streets and has no idea how rich-people society works, which he’s pretty insecure about considering he’s now the youngest kid of Bruce freaking Wayne). 

Thinks his worst trait is his reactiveness (Jason never got the privilege of planning ahead for various events in his life, so he instead needed to rely on being swift and harsh in how he could react to situations. It’s saved his life on multiple occasions and helps significantly in his role as Spoiler, but it can also lead to extreme overreactions (accidentally causing kidnapping scare after Jason ran away following a fight with Dick) and a struggle to plan things out ahead of time. As he grows more secure in his place in the family and in life, this trait will lessen but never fully dissipate.)

His worst trait actually is his reactiveness

[dawntheduckrb]

I love how you can purposely cater you internet experience to block most politics so you can mentally detox since your media consumption was becoming unhealthy, and still have a whole week of attempting to regain your hope in humanity become completely undone by wanting to eat lunch with your mom (ramble in tags, feel free to ignore; take care of yourselves first <3)

[discjude]

I think I should focus more on the link between Rafal and Japeth in TCY because I was typing out a joke post that went something along the lines of "TCY is so funny because the whole division between the two Pens comes down to "omnipotent omniscient harbinger of fate" vs "some snake guy" under the assumption that the scim that was Lionsmane was just one of Japeth's, but I realised I didn't have a source for that so checked flesh and blood again and what do you know Lionsmane is apparently "made out of my father (Rafal's) spirit.". I was aware of the reference to 'Rafal's spirit' mostly because it's a concept never mentioned by name again in the series but somehow never noticed that Lionsmane WAS just. Rafal. which has horrible consequences for the Japeth Lore

Basically. It seems very important to me that the "Storian VS Lionsmane" duo can be boiled down to "Fate VS Japeth", given that a lot of Japeth's motivation comes from his desire to be able to control fate, stating in Flesh And Blood "soon I'll be fate's master, with the power to take love back (where he's talking about Aric)." . Saying that he IS Lionsmane ties into that nicely, given that he'll write his own fate with the pen that Is Him. This also fits into the "Past is Present" prophecy, given the last line of "Until you change it", being exactly what Japeth aims to do.

However, Japeth does not 'change it', because he's not the one writing his fate, because He's Not Lionsmane. RAFAL is. The fate that Japeth thinks he's creating for himself isn't the one he wants, but is Rafal's fate instead... which is exactly what ends up happening to him, given the second fratricide incident. This also works with Past is Present, because Past IS Present, given it's the same fate. Which also works as a lovely little reminder that Japeth has absolutely no control over his fate in the slightest, reflected by a few other pieces of book 6 information: Rafal's message to him (that happens before book 4) instructs him to remain loyal to his brother, and to always put his brother first. He doesn't win a single one of Arthur's Trials. It is literally stated by Rafal in a flashback that it was LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE for japeth to end up being One True King. what I am Trying To Say is that there was absolutely no way in hell Japeth could ever have "changed it", ever. Anyway because of all of this I firmly believe that Soman should've put at least a couple of vague references to the TCY twins in the prequels given that Japeth and Rafal might have the most interesting link between them in my opinion

[smidgen-of-hotboy]

Our Angel of Brahma, pt. xi

Hello Travelers, before we begin I need to stress that this part of Our Angel of Brahma contains explicit violence. With that being said, consider this your warning for the following content: kidnapping (mentioned), assault, police brutality, interrogations, and some self-harm. I will be going back to add CW to previous parts and will update when those have been added in. If there are any warnings that you would like added to this part or any others do not hesitate to reach out in my ask box or DMs! Additionally: I am planning on transferring this series over to ao3 in the coming weeks. The google doc is starting to crash and that is my sign that this is no longer a self contained one shot au. It is a drabble. a nearly 19k long (and counting) drabble @ananxiousgenz @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @the-private-eye @demonic-panini

Calypso walks into her office. Coffee mug in one hand, and her comms in the other. She hadn't checked her emails yet and had only briefly skimmed the messages Frannie had sent her early in the morning. Most of which didn’t make much sense and had been sent five hours before she was awake, which was by her standards, five hours too early to be doing absolutely anything important. She booted up the computer and took a long sip of her coffee. Her comms rang and it was un-surprisingly Frannie. 

“Calypso Starr speaking–”

“Have you seen them yet?” 

“Frannie. Good morning to you too. I believe conversations start with hello.”

“Right– hello, did you see them yet?”

“See what?” She opens her email and smiles reading the subject line “RE: THE CASE OF THE MISSING ANGEL”. Rita was creative. Calypso would give her that. But she also seemed just as scatterbrained as Frannie did at times. They both knew their way around computers and comms. More than Calypso ever learned from her mom, so she was in no position to really judge either of them. If anything, they had every right to laugh in her face for not being able to do all the work on her own. Some shit journalist she was turning up to be. 

“The videos!” Frannie huffed and in the background, Calypso could make out the sound of a cabinet door opening and slamming shut. “Listen, I’m hanging up, and when you’re done with the videos and taking notes– and I mean all the videos, and all your notes– call me. Rita spent ninety-six hours trying to hunt all this down for you, kid. You better write the best damn article this side of the galaxy has ever seen! Because she ain’t helping you anymore after this, alright?” 

Calypso opens her mouth to argue but the call ends right then. She sets her comms on the desk in its designated spot next to her coffee mug and one of the glass swans. She isn’t a kid. She’s a grown adult just like Frannie. Frannie was however much, much older than her. And it wouldn’t be the first time that she’s let an older lady step all over her. 

Without anymore preamble, she takes a seat and opens the first video file. 

The video starts with a lone woman sitting at a table. The room is bare and poorly lit with no windows.  “State your name.” “Why should I? You already know who I am.” The woman’s dark hair falls out of her face revealing dark eyes and a few freckles. She glares at the camera. “And get that thing out of my face.” “No can do, now state your name.”  The woman huffs hanging her head low to the table. “Eve Bell.” “Full name.” “Eevee Bell.” She jerks her chin up and snarls, “Happy?”

Calypso pauses the video. This is Eevee Bell. Eevee the same night she was taken from her home.The same night she tucked Baird into bed and promised nothing bad would happen to her. Calypso flips open her journal thumbing through the pages until she finds her notes on the “Dad” recording. She reads back over them and flips to the next blank page. She rummages around her desk for a bit before finding a pen tucked into her newly acquired swan pen holder. She hits play on the video, and begins taking notes.

“Very,” a figure walks around the camera to stand behind Eevee. They’re dressed in a freshly pressed uniform. Their epaulets are black, with two embroidered stars in silver thread. A Constable of high rank. They place one hand on her shoulder and grip her chin with the other. “Now look directly at the camera, and tell them exactly what you did.” She clenches her jaw and tries to pull away. The Constable keeps her firmly pinned in place.  “Not gonna talk, huh.” “Over my dead body.” The Constable tsks and lets go of Eve’s face. Eevee, to her credit, rolls her shoulders as much as she could with her hands cuffed behind her back, and tilted her chin up higher. “You’ll hear me sing and squeal before I tell you anything you want.”  The Constable shakes their head and laughs, “We’ll see how you feel after today.” They exit out of frame and a heavy door can be heard opening. Eevee looks over and her eyes go wide as three other uniformed Constables walk into the room.  “Welcome to New Kinshasa, Eve.” The Constable says out of frame said. The video ends.

Calypso leans back in her seat. She glances down at her notes. Nothing. Blank. She puts her pen down and folds her hands over one another, leaning to rest her elbows on her desk. Her stomach does a strange thing, flipping up over on itself. The coffee is starting to kick in and give her heartburn. 

From her research and based on Baird’s recordings, the Constabulary does not treat its prisoners kindly. Their treatment is not as harsh as Aurinko Permanent Corrections. No, nothing could compare to Palomine Aurinko, and nothing will ever come close to Hoosegow. But there’s a good reason the Solar Planets consider the Guardian Angel System a war crime and New Kinshasa has been charged off and on for committing multiples since the Galactic Civil War ended. 

She grabs her comms and searches for anything she can find on the Constabulary on New Kinshasa and Brahma. She wasn’t expecting her quick galactic search to turn up anything. Just like everything else she’s been looking into privately, this too should have been a dead end. Instead, a tourism site hosted on a Saraswatan travelers guide comes up. 

One of the main attractions to vacationing to Saraswati it turns out, is visiting New Kinshasa. Vacation to Saraswati, and set time aside for a three days, two nights trip to see New Kinshasa. Shuttle over on day one, and see New Kinshasa day two. Get to meet Constables, shake hands with Sergeants, and rub elbows with Inspectors off duty at hotel bars. Take a tour down main street and stop by the Skydeck: Edge of New Kinshasa and peer down at Brahma from up high. 

The photos on the website are orderly and well lit. More than likely staged pieces of propaganda meant to make the average person forget about what happened to Brahma. If Calypso were anyone else even she’d believe it. But Baird’s recordings exist and Brahma has been suffering. Dark Matters can successfully scrub all records from the galaxy but they never stood a chance at stopping something from slipping through the cracks. 

One of the photos on the website catches her eye. A Constable in uniform, with epauluets on their shoulders embroidered in silver thread. Perfectly stitched planets with tilted rings. They’re shaking hands with a man with grey hair and a peculiar mustache. A gold brooch with blue jewels is pinned to his suit. His wide smile reaches his eyes. 

Calypso scrolls down to read the caption at the same time she reaches for her mug. She takes a long sip of her coffee. 

Superintendent Constable Bishop shaking hands with art collector, Osiris Cygnet. 

A “cygnet” is a word used to describe a baby swan. So named after the swan-shaped constellation, Cygnus, and -et indicates smallness. 

If Calypso were the average person, she shouldn’t know this. As she leans back in her desk chair and stares at the swan pen holder, Calypso is reminded that she is not the average person. As she stands now running through her apartment, digging through a cardboard box for a gold swan brooch with sapphire eyes, she has not been the average person since childhood. 

The storage unit came from a deceased art collector. He had an affinity for collecting crystal swans and counterfeit paintings. She sold most of the glass swans back to collectors on Earth while on her visit to her mother’s grave. She held on to the pen holder as a memento and sought out a pawn shop to trade in the brooch when the shop owner said she ought to keep it, “you don’t find jewels like that out there anymore.” Or whatever that meant. 

“Shit shit shit shit–” she finds the brooch and races back to her office clutching it tight. Sure enough, it’s a good match. 

Osiris Cygnet, art collector that vacationed sometime within the last ten years to Saraswati and took a shuttle trip to New Kinshasa. Just how the fuck did he get ahold of Baird’s recordings?

Superintendent Constable Bishop, Eve’s prison guard, and most likely, her future executioner. And he was promoted. At some point in the last twenty years, he was promoted. Multiple times. 

The pin back on the brooch digs into her palm. Calypso clenches her teeth. She should let go before the wound is too deep and forms an ugly gash. She reaches with her free hand and hits play on the next video.

Eevee sits on the stone floor of a prison cell. She stares pointedly at the door. Occasionally her eyes flick up to the camera. Its hard to tell, but her face looks puffy. Her arms have bruises running from her elbows all the way down to her wrists. There are red marks on both wrists from wearing handcuffs. She pulls her knees up to her chest letting out a long groan of pain. The camera zooms in. It is just near inaudible, but the camera's microphone picks up her quiet voice.  I hear your tune,  like a songbird at noon. What a lovely trill, it makes me feel ill. Eve looks like she would curl tighter around herself if it were possible. Shrink into nothing. Make herself as small as a mote of dust.  Like chimes in the wind, we were destined. A full-body shudder wracks through her.  Birdie, I’m not comin’ home, I'm sorry to leave you all alone. A figure approaches the cell. They’re not in uniform but the way they approach Eve’s cell is not without confidence.  “It’s a good song.” Eve jumps with tears in her eyes as she blinks at the person in front of her. “Hey baby, I came to bust you out.” The figure shoves their hands in their pockets.  “Cyrus…” Eve slowly gets to her feet and crosses over to the bars of her cell. She holds a hand out. Cyrus takes it carefully, pressing his lips to her knuckles. She is nearly breathless as she asks, “What are you doing here?” “Like I said: busting you out.”  “I–” Eve shakes her head. “No, you can’t. What about Iris? What about Baird? They need you more than I do right now! How'd you even get in here anyways?” Cyrus shrugs and pulls a key card out from his pocket. “Snuck onto a shuttle, knocked out a Constable, stole their key card? C'mon, Eve, it's not that hard.”  “Not that hard– Cyrus! That's a death sentence! If you get caught–” “I won't get caught, alright? Peter Nureyev”– Eve flinches– “scared them shitless. They’re scrambling right now and too disorganized to notice me.” She's quiet, staring at their hands. “How long has it been already?” “Day five of the Warden Strike, second day without you. Camilla was the one who reached out to. Everyone else apparently was too afraid to, and the other Wardens are losing steam without someone to keep their morale up and minds motivated.”  “And what about Baird? And Iris? You left them alone to try and rescue me? Cyrus, I'm a prisoner, not a princess in a tower.” Cyrus clicks his tongue. “Iris has been alone for a long time, they’ll be fine. And Baird isn’t alone, the Spade’s are taking care of him.” He plays thoughtlessly with her fingers. “You and I only have each other though. I promised your parents I’d look out for you, and I intend to keep that promise, til’ death do us part and all that.”  Eve jerks her hand away to grip one of the bars. “Cyrus, look at me.” He lifts his head and flinches in response only slightly. “I came here willingly. And I’m not going to make it out of here alive. Eber and Camilla can barely afford to take care of themselves and Charlie. And Iris lost their family like you and I did. You and I both know what it's like to lose your parents. I don't want Baird to experience the same thing.”  Cyrus shakes his head. “Eve you're thinking this all backwards. I'm the one that dragged you into this, let me take your place and get you out of it.” The video ends. 

Calypso drops the brooch on her desk to run her hands through her hair. She tugs on the ends of her short bob. 

Eevee pushed Cyrus away because he wanted revolution. And he got it. He got a revolution and it took everything from Baird. 

These are real people. Not just voice recordings or a bedtime story a mother made up to soothe her distressed child. Baird, Eeve, Cyrus, and Iris. A real family. Charlie, Eber, and Camilla and their daughter, Evelyn. A spare family. Josie and the twins. Hank and Mrs. Darius. The Rats. Brahma was full of life. And it still is. Peter Nureyev is a legend to these people. Even if it turns out the name was fake, he was just as real as any of them. 

And despite all their hardships, Cyrus still married Eevee and then Iris. Josie still went on to have twins. Camilla and Eber brought a daughter into the galaxy. Charlie chose to go down singing. Cyrus went out singing. Eve echoed a song. And Baird kept his head high and trilled for their memory. 

The recordings from the comms were real. Are real. Calypso knows this. She doesn't have any faces to put to any names except now for Eve and a rough idea for Cyrus. They were alive. 

Calypso hesitates to start the next video. She's seen more than enough already. More than plenty. There are still two videos left. She already knows how this ends. Eevee Bell walked out of her apartment in the middle of the night so her son wouldn’t have to wake up screaming and watch her be dragged out the front door. She did everything in her power to safeguard him from a War she never wanted to bring home in the first place. And what did it get her? What good did it do when two years later Baird watched what happened to his father anyways? What good did any of it do when they broadcasted Charlie’s execution? 

Taking a deep breath, she hits play. 

“Songbird,” Constable Bishop stands in front of Eve's cell. They keep one hand on their blaster. Eve tucks her chin down while pulling away from the bars. “Tired of singing? That's a pity. You know, a few hours ago, I was alerted that someone came to pay you a visit. I had the cameras checked and we put the facility in lockdown. You'll never believe what we found trying to fly the coop.”  Two Constables drag a man into frame. It's Cyrus. Eve stands in place, her face drained of all its color. Cyrus tilts his head up. The two Constables flanking his side force him to stand, hoisting him up by his underarms. His hands remain pinned behind his back. .  “I wouldn't be all smiley right now if I were in your shoes, Desrosiers.” Constable Bishop pulls their blaster from its holster. They click the safety off and point it directly at Cyrus. “Now then, here's how this is going to play out. Ms. Bell, you're going to admit that you organized the Warden strike, you're going to take the fall and you're going to accept the consequences.” “And if she doesn't?” The Constables holding Cyrus pull on his arms. He hisses through his teeth.   “If she doesn't, then we'll blame you both. And then, with you both out of the way, we'll hunt down that Little Birdie of yours, pluck him from the nest, and make him sing us songs about how beautiful it is to be saved by New Kinshasa–”  “I did it.” Eve crosses her cell and reaches out as far as she can to grab the Constable Bishop’s uniform. Her fingers just barely reach their elbow. “I organized the strike. It was all my idea to begin with. I knew it was risky and stupid but I did it anyways. I poisoned the watering hole–” “Eevee–” “And Cyrus had nothing to do with it. Joining the revolutionaries and inciting the Dome Wardens was all me. Let him go. Blame me for everything, say that I'm the Revolutionary's mother while you’re at it and publicly execute me. Tear me limb from limb– just let Cyrus go and leave my son out of this.”  Constable Bishop holds her gaze. He lowers his blaster and gives her a curt nod, “I wasn't going to go that far, but if that's how you feel, well…” He put his blaster away. “I’m pleased you came around, Ms. Bell.” He turns to the other two Constables and motions for them to leave. “Escort the Pest off of New Kinshasa.” They grab hold of Cyrus’ jaw and force him to look up. “And if we ever catch you sneaking up here again, you’ll be publicly executed.” Eevee looks away as they drag Cyrus out of frame. His voice comes as a muffled shout that grows quieter and quieter.  “Don’t look so down Ms. Bell. You made the right choice. New Kinshasa thanks you for your candor.” The video ends. 

She lied. Eevee lied to Constable Bishop. Even if half of what she said did hold some truth to it, there were still lies she sprinkled in that they believed. At least they chose to believe them. And choosing to believe in something only grants it more power. It warps reality, and makes it more real. 

Baird’s first recording that Calypso heard echoes in the back of her mind. Some say that the legend isn’t true. Some say that Eevee Bell set the Dome Wardens on strike. At least one person believes that she is Peter Nureyev��s mother. 

Baird and Iris did not know everything. For whatever Cyrus was caught for finally, Constable Bishop made good on their promise and did eventually come back for him. They did not however publicly execute him. 

They got Charlie instead. 

With only one video left, Calypso hits play. She’s only slightly surprised to see Cyrus in a similar interrogation room to the one Eevee was in in the first video.

“There will be a free Brahma. There will be a free Brahma. Brahma will be–” “Do you ever, shut up!” Constable Bishop slams their fist against the table in front of Cyrus. His epauluets are different, now instead of two stars theres three. Cyrus winces clenching his jaw, but doesn’t draw away. “No wonder you got a divorce, I’d get one too if I was stuck married to you.” “Charmed, though I don’t find you pretty enough to marry… maybe if you lost the scrappy beard–” “Enough!” Constable Bishop drags a hand down their face, scratches at their stubble, and stares down at Cyrus. “All you have to do, is look at the camera,” they point to the one currently rolling, “and say exactly what you did.” “And then what? You’ll let me go scot free? You’ve already beat black and blue, I think I felt a tooth or two dislodge from my mouth. You willing to pay for my dentist bill?” “There are no dentist left on Brahma.” Constable Bishop circles around Cyrus and stands behind him. They grip his left shoulder, and guide his face up towards the camera with their other hand. “Now go on, tell them exactly who you are, and what you did.” Cyrus’ eyes are a muted green. His face is long and skin a darker shade of brown than Eevees’. He takes a deep, calming breath, and flashes a quick smile revealing a dimple on his left cheek.  “My name is Peter Nureyev, and I am going to bring down New Kinshasa.” Constable Bishop lets go of Cyrus to whip out their blaster. They crack the blunt end against the back of his head. Constable Bishop’s hand and blaster come away slightly bloodied, and the shout Cyrus lets out echoes in the small room.  “Think you’re so smart, huh? Try again.” “Cyrus Desrosiers-Bell, and when I get out of here,” Cyrus strains against his restraints baring his teeth in a sharp, sadistic grin, “I’m going to rip your fucking throat out!”  Constable Bishop clicks the safety off their blaster. They press it to the side of Cyrus’ head. “Go on, keep talking. We don’t need you alive, you serve no greater purpose to your revolution. You get caught in New Kinshasa once and I let you go, shame on you. You get caught sneaking around New Kinshasa a second time and get far enough back home just outside your front door, shame on me.” Bishop tsks rechecking their blaster. “One jolt. That’s all you need.” “Well go on then,” Cyrus lifts his chin. His brows squish together. A small gasp escapes his lips. “You don’t scare me. Not the first time you’ve pressed that thing to my head.”  After a moment, a comms goes off. The Constable checks it with a quick glance and relaxes. “You’re right,” they draw their blaster away from Cyrus but do not click the safety back in place. “I don't scare you enough. But she probably will.” A question forms on Cyrus’ lips but dies just as quickly as the interrogation room doors whirls open and close. Heavy bootsteps cross the room. A small shadow falls over Cyrus. His eyes go wide.  “Eve, my angel…” Cyrus shakes his head, tearing his gaze away. He grits his teeth. “No. You killed her.”  “Did we though? Constable,” the Bishop turns to the new arrival. They pass their blaster off to them. The new arrival walks into frame to accept the blaster. Standing beside Constable Bishop, is none other than Eevee Bell. The same dark hair, dark eyes, and constellation of freckles. A collar of some sort clasps snuggly around her neck.  It is as if the soul that bubbled to life inside of her has been snuffed out. This may look like Eevee Bell, it may move like Eevee Bell, but it is not her. Not anymore. No song whistles from her lips as she levels the blaster pressing back against Cyrus’ head.  “Eevee, baby,” the Constable places her finger over the trigger.  “Now then, any last words, Desroisers-Bell?” Cyrus licks his lips and stares into the camera. “My angel, my angel. Set me free.” The Constable pulls the trigger. Her arm absorbs the recoil as Cyrus’ body seizes and–

Calypso closes out of the video and turns away. She presses her head between her legs gasping for lungfuls of air. 

Rita spent ninety-two hours digging through Goddess knows what just to dig up this. The tumbling feeling in her stomach returns full force. Combined a racing heart and the rising bile in her throat, Calypso isn’t so sure anymore if she wants to call Frannie back. Maybe she ought to reach back out to Mister Mercury and try creative writing again. Maybe she ought to quit writing and journalism altogether, shuttle home to Venus, find a nice well off spouse, pop out another fucked up kid like her and her mother, and pat herself on the back for not dying to cancer or radiation poisoning or whatever. It might also do her a whole lot of good to find a therapist. At least looking for one wouldn’t kill her.

She waits until her heart has stopped racing and stomach settled back into place. Her pen feels like it’s barely there as she scratches down quick notes:

Eve gave the constable’s idea for public execution, thus Charlie. 

Cyrus Desrosiers-Bell. He took Eevee’s last name? And then kept it after marrying Iris?

Cyrus was beat and taken away because he snuck on to New Kinshasa– twice. First time to try and save Eve (failed to) and second time for unknown reason (caught and tracked down). Could this be why/how Talia’s book club found a way to New Kinshasa?

Don’t know what song Cyrus sang as he was dragged away from Iris. Possibly some version of Charlie’s Lament? 

How does Osiris Cygnet connect to all this?

What was the collar around Eve’s neck?

Constable Bishop’s promotions: have something to do with what happened to Eve? With what he did to Cyrus? (SIDE NOTE: I pray to my Goddess that whatever the hell happened to Eve, they did not do to Cyrus.)

… I pray that whatever they did to Eve, they did not improve and inflict upon Charlie. 

She puts her pen back in the swan holder and examines the puncture wound in her palm. The injury is small, not a gash like she thought it might be. A bandage and anti-spetic and Calypso will be right as rain. Peachier than an Earthen Sunday morning. 

“I need to find a hobby.” Calypso glances at the swan holder. Perhaps– no. Absolutely not. 

She dresses her injury and calls Frannie back despite every part of her howling not to. Her coffee has long since gone cold. Normally this woudln’t be a problem. Just drop a few ice cubes in and presto. Or reheat the whole mug and presto. Today is one of those rare days where neither is an appealing option and the last of her six hundred cred coffee goes down the drain. Finally her call connects with Frannie.

“You finished the videos?”

“Frannie.”

“Right, hello. You finished the videos.” It’s not even a question anymore. Calypso hums turning away from her sink to lean her lower back against it. Slowly she lowers herself to the floor. “I’ll take that as a yes, okay! I asked Rita about Peter Nureyev like you wanted me to. And she turned back around within a day to tell me that there was nothing she could find about the man. He doesn’t exist. Just another legend.”

Calypso scoffs, “Well that’s impossible, I just saw the videos. Eve and Cyrus both mention him by name. Baird mentions him in his recordings by name. Camilla mentions him by name at some point. He has to be real.”

“Well I don’t know what to tell you, kid, but if Rita can’t find him, no one can. It’s impossible to find something or someone who doesn’t exist.”

“Or maybe he disappeared.”

Frannie hums, “Sure, maybe that. Look, kid,” Calypso bites her tongue, “I wanted to talk with you about asking for help. Remember how I said you won’t be asking Rita for anymore favors?”

“Yeah, yeah actually– Frannie what was that about?”

“Kid,” Calypso does not retain her inward groan, “Rita is a really good friend of mine. Me and her go way back to when we were just little ladies getting our noses dirty and toeses wet with cybersecurity. She went down the HCPD path, I went down a freelance one. 

“My point though is that me and her aren’t the same little ladies we used to be anymore. We’re little old ladies now. And us little old ladies need our rest and relaxation. When Rita starts something she doesn’t know when to take a break. She puts her whole body into it.”

“Don’t you mean mind?”

“No, body. Rita has been sacrificing her own health for the better part of three decades now trying to help her Boss. He’s a prick at best and an asshole at his worst. He’s taken her for granted a lot.” Well, maybe she should find a better Boss, goes unsaid. “Their relationship is better now, but I’m not going to let another kid like you come and drag her around the whole galaxy.”

“For fucks sake Frannie– my name is Calypso! I’m not your damn kid!” Calypso pants. The swooping feeling returns. “I’m not you’re damn kid, I haven’t been anyone’s damn kid in over ten years, so stop calling me a fucking child! If you don’t want me talking to Ms. Rita anymore fine. I get it. You don’t wanna hear about my requests to her that’s fine. I’ll cut you out of it and–”

“Calyspo Starr.” Her jaw clamps shut narrowly avoiding biting her tongue. “If you reach out to Rita after today, I will cease to help you myself. You can take your little comms and find someone else willing to help you for free. All I’m asking, Ms. Starr, is that you don’t involve Rita any further. Have I made myself clear, Ms. Starr?”

Ms. Starr, I’m sorry but there’s nothing more we can do for your mother. Your next decisions are going to shape how the end of her life are going to be. Have you got a will lined up already?

Ms. Starr, I can’t accept your solo proposal. Everyone else found partners for this project at the start of the year. Maybe you can join a group and be their editor? 

Ms. Starr, that will be a demerit for you. Let’s find you something more suitable in the lost and found. You wouldn’t want to mistaken for a ruffian, do you?

“Crystal.” Calypso ends the call before Frannie can respond. She calls back. Calypso decline the call and throws her comms across the kitchen. She watches as it skitters along the tile. 

Alone. Shit writer. Parentless. Jobless. Flying by the seat of her pants and overpriced coffee grounds. She was never cut out to be a journalist. Maybe she ought to go off and find a cold ditch to lie down in. Or a warm ditch. Whichever she stumbles across first. 

Just who is Calypso Starr? Who the hell does she think she is anyways? And what gave her the idea that any of this meant something to someone in the first place?

I choose to believe… 

Calypso takes a deep breath and starts counting back from ten. 

I choose to believe… 

As she slowly exhales, true clarity rings through her mind. Baird chose to believe. And it doesn’t matter how, his recordings made it off-planet. And if not Calypso Starr to tell his story, to transcribe every last detail she can capture, then who else? Who else does that leave? 

Calypso Starr, the rebel who didn’t wear the right uniform. The orphaned university student who scrapped by without any friends. And now, a Solar based, historical freelance journalist. Scratch that from the record: Galactic, historical freelance journalist. She’s worn half a dozen different hats over the years, but one thing has remained consistent: a Starr burns brightest before they go out. And if Baird Bell and Brahma are the undoing of her, then there’s nothing to be done about it. She’ll get to the end of the recordings and uncover the truth one or another. With or without Frannie’s help.

[pet-cemetery-emotes]

unrealted but what does endo mean? /genq

Short hand for endogenic! Which usually means anyone who is plural for non trauma reasons! or who doesn't relate their plurality to trauma. if you don't know what plural means, there are a lot of definitions! I'd recommend googling around or talking to plural people, because i dont have good words today. plurality is often associated with DID, but that's not the only source or cause :) another common one is MADD (maladaptive daydreaming disorder) or immersive daydreaming!

take this with a grain of salt, though - people will often change their personal definitions of what it means to be plural or endo to exclude others. perhaps because of their own internalized ableism, or exerting control over their online spaces is the only control they readily get, or because picking on a subculture of a subculture means that their targets often won't be defended and they can get away with using them as stress toys. Similarly to queer infighting, and aphobia. Thumbs up emoji

[epickiya722]

After eight hours, I gave up...

[anoray]

Yes, I watched the debate tonight

[cheekbonered]

as a white woman i think a good question we can ask ourselves is "is this oppression or are my feelings just hurt" and/or "am i being attacked or am i simply uncomfortable"

[luminni]

Simon has a favorite jumper. It's simple, black wool, fits him well, and he wears it all the time. Only problem is, he wears the thing all the time. He's had the thing for years and it's practically all he wears when he's on leave. By this point, the poor thing is threadbare, little holes around the armpits, the neckline, and the cuffs. It's pilling everywhere and it's covered with dog hair (from where, he has no clue).

You loved the jumper on him, he looked fantastic in it, but even you could see the thing was in a dire situation.

"Simon?" You questioned, holding up the jumper in your arms, folding it after its last round in the wash (which it mercifully survived).

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever...thought about getting this thing dry cleaners?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Don't trust 'em, they'll ruin it."

It was a simple answer, one that told you the subject wasn't up for debate. But just because he didn't trust the dry cleaners with his jumper didn't mean he wouldn't trust anyone with it. And there was no one he trusted more than you.

...

Simon came home from his last deployment late into the night, trudging through the front door and setting his bag down as gently as possible as to not wake you. Toeing his shoes off and finally being able to tug off his mask, he couldn't wait to get out of the rest of his gear.

Stepping lightly through the house, dodging the floor boards he knew were going to be squeaky on his journey to the bedroom. Ready to join you in bed the moment he got into a pair of sweat pants.

When he opened the bedroom door however, he did not find you tucked away in the covers. You were crouched on the floor, humming along to quiet music playing on a small speaker. And you were bowed over that black jumper of his.

"Love?"

"Oh! Simon you're home!" You squealed, jumping up and throwing yourself into his arms, snuggling your face into his chest and drinking in the scent you had been without for so long like you could get drunk off it, and in many ways you could.

"Hey there sweet'art" he cooed, practically purring it into your ear and enclosing you in a big bear hug. "What'er ya' up to?"

"Oh just..." you turned back around, anxiety lacing your voice, "doing a little repair work." You handed him his black jumper, folding it into his hands.

He could believe his eyes, it was smooth like it was new, no pills of fabric clinging to it. The tiny, threadbare areas and holes were patched up. Now, perfectly matched black wool was weaved in to fix it. He stared at you, wide eyed, in disbelief while you just grinned nervously. He brought it up to his face, no dog hair to be seen and it smelt like you had just picked it up off the shelves.

He kept on staring at you "how..?"

"I just," you turned back around, grabbing the sweater trimmer, the replacement wool, the sweater scent spray, and the lint roller, all in your hands. "Used a couple things" You grinned

Simon could have sworn he never felt this way before. There was this weird tightness in his chest, it felt like it was going to explode. He had owned that sweater when he Tommy was still alive, that sweater had seen the first pub crawl with the 141 boys, he wore it on your first date. The sweater was more than just something he wore often, it was his good memories wrapped up into one piece of soft and comfortable wool. His arms moved before he could stop them and he buried you in another hug, squeezing you (and his jumper) into him.

"Oh- Simon!" You giggled, dropping your supplies.

He buried his nose into you shoulder, lifting you up into him, off your feet.

"Thank you," he murmured, voice cracking a bit, "thank you."