#except for Dream in this part of the story-

[a-purple-obsessed-girl]

for my third part of talking about my theories of kpop demon hunters’ future, it’s the turn of the second movie, that should focus on mira and the theme of family:

first thing first: jinu is dead. he’s not coming back to life neither makes the sword sentient. i don’t know about korean spiritual/religious beliefs, so if i say something wrong let me know, but from the movie i got the idea that jinu redeemed himself and freed himself from the corruption of the demon’s king, allowing his soul to move on and became part of the universe (and the honmoon), one with the universe, to become energy, kinda

we know that mira had problems with her family, so that of course will be the main thing: understanding what is family, that goes beyond blood and that sometimes the chosen family will be there when the blood one won’t

so, the idea is that huntr/x got a request to exhibit at some hotel that belongs to mira’s family (i mean, they are rich, surely have some kind of hotel/establishment). of course mira thinks that’s her parents way to reconnect with her (because, yeah, she got over being perceived as the problem child, but she misses her family). but obviously her parents don’t care: they wanted huntr/x just because it’s the most famous group and they want to show their power/riches; still don’t approve of their daughter life’s choice and aren’t particularly happy to be remembered that their daughter is in the group (not that they deny she is their daughter, but if it’s not made super public would be better)

as a contrast, zoey has zero problema regarding her family: they are all supportive. maybe they are at the show and we got to see the difference. maybe there is zoey’s grandma that adopts all three of them as granddaughters (after all they’re zoey’s girlfriends, of course she will adopt them)

and lastly, celine realizes how much she fucked up with rumi, apologizes and tries to fix things. and tells rumi the story about her parents (or maybe she finds rumi’s mother’s diary with the story and she too learns what really happened for the first time)

rumi’s parents story is important for understanding more about demons (that is also a very important part of the movie): rumi’s father was just a (good normal) man that fell in love with her mother, was somehow corrupted by gwi-ma (maybe trying to make a deal to keep his wife safe), hid the patterns from his wife, became a father giving his daughter patterns, ended somehow betraying/ambushing the sunlight sisters, but at the last moment realized what he was doing and stopped, sacrificing himself to try to save his family but unfortunately also his wife died. the important detail is that he didn’t died a demon, because was able to overcame gwi-ma’s influence (kinda like jinu, but before he died)

(maybe here i can make an exception and allow for an appearance from jinu, in a dream, to kinda confirm rumi this story because after dieing he can see sone “soul energy” around rumi and can confirm her that not only she isn’t a mistake, she never was, and actually she is very loved)

so the demon’s hunters part of the story is the girls learning they can stop people to became demons: maybe mira realizes that her brother is showing some patterns because is being tempted by gwi-ma in order to be the perfect son for their parents and feels the pressure, and maybe is envious that mira got out. so mira tries to reason and reconcile with her brother, helping him break free and repairing their relationship

they also realize that a lot of people are in this situation and in the end the girls sang to help them all understand they don’t need to listen to the voice of doubt and self-hatred in them; in this way huntr/x reduces even more gwi-ma influence on the earth

it’s super important to me that mira’s parents aren’t the one becoming demons, like maybe gwi-ma tried: tried to guilt one of them like “it’s your fault, your daughter’s like this because of your failing” but them are “no, i did my best, i give her the best education i could, now that’s on her if she choses to do that with her life, i don’t have to blame myself”. so gwi-ma tries to make a deal with the other parent to have back the daughter they wanted, but they too are “she made her choices, terrible choices for sure, and i don’t support them and i don’t want to have to deal with her anymore, but that’s all on her, and i won’t force her to change her mind”. i just want her parents to be terrible parents with their rigid views and values, but not outright terrible people; and maybe by the end they could learn to be a little less rigid with the brother, since he kinda wants to do what his parents want of him, but, like, with less pressure

of course there are songs, and one is mostly sung by mira. also, i would love if mira asks zoey to help her express her feelings through the song: like, kinda explains what she wants to say and then has a dance already coreographed and zoey from here writes down the lyrics while rumi helps with the melody

[justdeltarunethings]

Part 4.5

The Other Side of Chapter 3

A Continued Deltarune Theory

First | Previous | Next

So I realized I kind of glossed over everything that happened in chapter 3, so I wanted to do a narrative sidebar explaining how I see the plan in more detail playing out in perhaps its most complicated point to date.

A little recap-setup. The details of why I think all of the things I seem to take for granted can be found over the previous 4 blog posts.

Carol and The Knight have been trying to place Noelle as The Girl in the prophecy. They set up the abandoned classroom so that she'd wander right into it, guided by Kris. But, SOMEhow, Alphys made a strong decision for once and ordered Susie to go get the chalk instead of letting Noelle volunteer, and then told Kris to go with her.

And now Ralsei, who was supposed to be guiding Noelle and Kris, told Susie that she's the chosen hero instead. That couldn't be helped. Susie becoming aware of the Dark Worlds means that the only ways to juggle that would be to let her continue doing her thing and keep it to herself, or to disappear her. And even though Susie is Susie, disappearing kids is a bit of a sore spot, and would also bring too much heat.

So Chapter 2. Originally, Noelle would have gone with Kris to the computer room and found the Dark World, but now they want to leave NO room for error. So The Knight hides in that handy closet, waits until Noelle and Berdly arrive (...He's not part of the plan, but this is fine. Probably) and then creates the Dark Fountain while she's IN the room. There's a potential of using sleep magic here first? But the end result is more or less the same.

...

What do you MEAN she THINKS IT WAS A DREAM!?

Okay, emergency maneuvers need to be activated now. Susie has moved from an annoyance to a Certified Problem. Kris calls Carol and gets their instructions. Keep Susie there, create the Dark World, tell Tenna to keep you three busy while we set things up.

The next Dark World is going to be in the church. Noelle is going to be at choir practice. Easy.

Wait. ...Not easy. Toriel is going to be in the Dark World now. If she finds out about it, she'll tell others, and even worse she'll believe Asgore's crazy yet mostly correct theories. She CANNOT reconcile with him, since she's needed for Asgore's jealousy as part of the prophecy, AND if she's missing, choir practice will absolutely be cancelled which means no Noelle in the church Dark World.

Okay, tell Tenna that he needs to keep her asleep, and that if she wakes up she'll be in grave danger. Because she WILL, because we'd need to do SOMEthing to keep her quiet for at least the next day.

The Knight will get there and, as carefully as possible, extract Toriel from the Dark World and bring her to the Holiday manor. Kris will pursue, and then once they're out they'll lock the door, trapping Susie in the Dark World since she can't close the fountain herself.

Carol will give her a story, and then they'll all go to church and Carol and Kris will keep her busy until choir practice starts, and we'll go from there.

...And then the party defies Tenna's stalling attempts and, worse, wins him over to their side. He "returns" Toriel to them.

The Knight knew the next part had to happen. It was written in the prophecy itself. But it had hoped it wouldn't happen like this. The Knight Cleaves Tenna and tries to snatch Toriel and run, but Susie...Susie intervenes. And then it's a fight with the party.

The Fun Gang loses, as prescribed, and The Knight starts to grab Toriel again, planning to take her, be pursued by the only person capable of moving (Kris, having not been Swooned), and continue with the plan as intended.

Except, Toriel called the police. And now Undyne appears. She's been spending the last few minutes in the Dark World trying to figure out how this Magic Spear thing works, but she's got her range now, and she leaps in like the real hero she is to stop whatever's going on.

Undyne is now in the position Toriel would have been if she'd woken up. They can't let her tell anyone, especially not Toriel or Asgore, and she's going to be one of their biggest problems if she's allowed to run free. The Knight has no choice. It changes targets, snatches Undyne, and takes her to the Shelter.

There's no time to lock the house door with an awake badass struggling, and Susie leaps into action to follow them first anyway, meaning even Kris couldn't have kept the plan alive at that point.

The Knight enters the Shelter, Susie finds out about the codes, and everything's even more in shambles than it was before. They return home, but not before The Knight has a word with Kris. Kris seals the fountain, and The Roaring Squad's plan has to change again, to trap Noelle in the next Dark World. In the church. Tonight. And then hope that the wildcard hero Susie doesn't mess it all up.

AGAIN.

[ild-rllrcstr]

Remembrance of you part 5

Lando Norris X You / 3K / slow burn

part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 6 (coming soon)

SummaryIn this life, he’s a driver and you’re a girl trying not to fall for him, not again. You were supposed to be invisible, a cousin hidden under Ferrari red, tucked safely behind Charles Leclerc’s shadow. But fate never forgets its favourites. Once, in a life long buried by time, you stood on the edge of ruin, torn apart by duty, silence, and a falling legacy. Centuries later, under Monaco's golden sun and the scream of engines, your souls meet again, unaware of the story echoing in their bones. You dream of a forgotten crest, the piercing ache of sadness. He feels it in flashes, a phrase, the way your eyes hold storms and memories. As old symbols surface and the past claws its way into the present, an erased history, and love, quiet, steady, terrifying, beg for a second chance. If fate brings you together over and over, maybe this time, you’ll be brave enough not to run.

Warning To read the chapter without the former ones will be quite confusing. A/N A slightly shorter chapter, but there will be another update tomorrow!

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The carriage wheels creaked over uneven stone as the convoy curved into the southern valley road. You had left the capital at dawn, riding under the pale lavender sky with an entourage of guards, knights, and envoys bound for the neighbouring kingdom, a minor but strategic ally whose loyalty had begun to waver.

Charles led the diplomatic charge, of course, you at his side, and Sir Carlos and Pierre, Charles’ two most trusted political officers. Carlos was sharp-eyed and steel-spined, he could well observe every situations. Pierre was with a voice that could end negotiations with a single pause, but at the sametime very charming when it comes to socialising. It was no wonder Charles kept them close.

But Landric was here, too. Assigned to the royal guard. Assigned, specifically, to you. This was not the first time you travelled with Charles, it was the tense situation that made Charles having to take extra precautions.

You hadn’t spoken much since the garden.

Not because there wasn’t anything to say, but because there was too much, and there were too many eyes.

You’d spent the first leg of the trip mostly in silence, tucked into the cushioned seat of the lead carriage, fingers curled around a scroll of treaty terms, your eyes flicking over the landscape instead of the knight occasionally visible on horseback through the side window.

He always rode near. Not quite beside your carriage, that would draw attention, but close enough that you knew if anything happened, he’d be the first to reach you.

By the third day, the sun was relentless. The procession stopped in a quiet forested clearing to rest before the border crossing. Charles, Carlos and Pierre argued quietly over new terms at the front of the camp. You were left beneath a tree with your papers you could no longer focus on.

And then, from behind, the familiar crunch of boots.

“You’ll ruin your eyes reading in this light,” Landric said, voice softer than usual.

You didn’t look up right away. “That’s what everyone says.”

There was a pause. A shift in weight. “May I ?”

You nodded, and he lowered himself to the grass beside you. For a moment, the world went quiet except for the chirp of cicadas.

You glanced sideways. He wasn’t in armour, just a linen shirt rolled at the sleeves, sun catching on the curve of his neck. He looked… less knightly like this. More human.

“I didn’t know you’d be coming on this trip,” you said.

“I didn’t know until the day before,” he replied. ��Charles asked for me directly.”

Your lips quirked. “Or you asked for the assignment.”

He hesitated, just a second too long.

You tilted your head, amused. “You’re a terrible liar.”

He smirked faintly, eyes still on the horizon. “I thought… if I stayed close, maybe we’d speak more.”

Your chest tightened, the air between you thinning. “You could’ve said something sooner.”

“I didn’t know if I was allowed.” His voice dropped then, a low honesty threading through. “You’re not the girl in the hayloft anymore.”

“And you’re not the boy who hid my books under horse blankets,” you whispered.

He looked at you then, fully, and whatever passed between you in that glance was not something the court would have approved of. It wasn’t formal. It wasn’t royal.

But it was real.

“I shouldn’t,” you said, before you even knew what you meant.

“I know,” he said, already knowing what you were trying not to say.

But neither of you moved.

Then, just before the moment could slip into something irreversible, a voice rang from the ridge above.

“Y/N,” Charles called, “we’re setting off again.”

You stood too quickly, brushing invisible dust from your skirts. Landric rose slowly, his expression unreadable.

“We should go,” you said.

He nodded once.

But as you walked ahead, you didn’t miss the way his shadow followed slightly too close behind. Or how, for the rest of the ride, whenever danger felt too near, Landric’s horse was always at your side.

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The palace of the kingdom was smaller than your own, ornate, with silver ivy creeping up marble columns and flags in deep green fluttering lazily in the breeze. But it had its charm. Its own kind of elegance. More importantly, it held the court you had come to negotiate with: the nobles of House Adrelan.

You had barely stepped down from the carriage before you were swept into formalities. Polite greetings, long-winded welcomes, veiled inspections from lords and ladies who looked at you as if trying to guess how much power you truly held. Your title meant little here. But your presence, a woman advisor travelling with three royals, stirred curiosity.

By dusk, the reception hall was lit with soft lanterns and music. A light feast had been prepared for your arrival. The conversation was stiff at first, but slowly loosened under the influence of wine and carefully placed compliments. You were seated near Charles and the lady in court, while Carlos stood stiff-backed near a pillar, watching everything like a hawk and Pierre charming people with his words.

And then came the shift in your attention, a murmur of interest behind you, a ripple of laughter, and a quick glance across the room.

There he was.

Landric, no longer in armour but in formal tunic and dark embroidered sleeves, stood with a group of young noblewomen by the far column. They had formed a loose circle around him, fans in hand, laughter spilling out too easily. You could tell they didn’t know who he was, not really. To them, he was just a handsome knight with sharp shoulders, storm-blue eyes, and an air of mystery.

One of the ladies leaned in too close, brushing something from his collar. Another giggled and whispered something behind her fan. He gave a small smile, polite, distant, but he didn’t pull away either.

You turned back toward your goblet, face composed.

Charles leaned toward you, amused. “He’s become rather popular, hasn’t he?”

You didn’t answer immediately. “He stands out. And they’re not subtle.”

“He’s not doing anything wrong.”

“I didn’t say he was.”

But something cold curled low in your chest anyway.

You tried to focus on the conversation around you. The terms of the grain trade. The disputed river border. The dancing invitation was extended to Charles. But you could still feel them, those women, their laughter, the way one of them touched Landric’s wrist and tilted her head just so.

It was foolish. You had no claim. You had no right.

Still, when the musicians struck up a livelier tune and the guests began to rise for dancing, you found yourself watching again. Watching too closely.

Landric caught your eye across the room.

And paused.

His smile faded just slightly, his brow furrowing a flicker of confusion. And something else. He excused himself gently from the circle of admirers, stepping back with a bow. One of the women pouted.

But he was already turning. Heading toward you.

You quickly stood. “I need air,” you said to no one in particular, stepping away from the long table, skirts whispering behind you as you exited into the cool night of the palace garden.

The breeze helped. A little. But not enough.

You hated the way your heart was behaving. How easily it was stirred. You were supposed to be focused, composed. Not unravelling in a foreign court over a look. Over a knight.

The heavy wooden door creaked open behind you.

“Are you alright?” came the voice you knew too well.

You didn’t turn. “Don’t you have a fan club to entertain?”

There was a pause. Then the quietest huff of a laugh.

“They asked if I’d like to see the stables,” he said. “Thought I’d be impressed.”

You finally turned to look at him. “Were you?”

“No.” His gaze was steady. “I’ve already seen better.”

You shouldn’t have smiled. But you did.

There it was again, that thread between you. Unspoken, impossible, but always there.

He took a step closer. “You didn’t like it, did you?”

“What?”

“The women.”

You held his gaze. “Why would I care?”

“I don’t know,” he said softly, almost teasing. “But you left.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to dismiss it, to make a clever retort, but no words came. Just the sound of the breeze rustling the ivy above you.

He took one more step. Close enough that you had to tilt your head slightly to keep your eyes on his.

“I left because I don’t like games,” you said quietly.

“I don’t either.”

And for a moment, you both stood there, between shadows and moonlight, between diplomacy and something dangerously close to longing, not quite touching, not quite speaking the truth.

Then a bell rang from the tower, the hour calling you both back inside. But something had shifted. The jealousy had cracked something open. And neither of you could pretend it hadn’t.

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The palace quieted quickly after the evening’s feast. Courtiers retired behind carved doors, musicians packed away their instruments, and only the low hush of wind through the halls remained. You had slipped away again, claiming exhaustion, but you didn’t return to your chambers. Not yet.

You found yourself instead in the smaller library, a circular room tucked behind the guest wing. It was nothing like the grand archives at home, but something was comforting in the scent of parchment and beeswax, the dim flicker of lanterns casting soft amber against the stone.

You traced your fingers along the spines of old volumes. Diplomacy records. Poetry from the Eastern reaches. A treatise on the handling of war horses. That one made you smile. Then there was a noise behind you. Quiet footsteps. Familiar.

You turned, already knowing who it was.

Landric stood just inside the doorway, the flickering light playing over the angles of his face. His coat was gone, shirt unlaced at the collar, curls slightly damp from washing. He looked less like a knight then, and more like the boy you used to share secrets with behind the haystacks.

“You have a gift for disappearing,” he said.

“And you have a gift for finding me,” you replied, though you didn’t sound annoyed.

“I don’t think I ever stopped.”

The room fell into a silence too weighted to be casual. You turned back to the shelf, just to give your hands something to do, to pretend your pulse wasn’t betraying you.

“I didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” you said, fingers lightly grazing the edges of a book you weren’t reading.

He stepped closer. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You gave a soft laugh. “Because of the wine or the women?”

He didn’t laugh.

“I saw your face when you left the hall,” he said. “

Your eyes met his again. Slower this time.

“That’s dangerous talk now,” you said. “Knowing me.”

He didn’t look away. “It always was.”

The breath caught in your throat. You had spent years learning restraint, how to shape words like weapons and wield them with care. But there was no defence for him when he looked at you like that, open, steady, like he remembered every line of your face from years ago and saw you even more clearly now.

“You were quiet tonight,” he added, voice softer. “Even for you.”

“I’m not used to being… watched.”

“I wasn’t watching.”

You tilted your head slightly. “Weren’t you?”

His lips curved, barely. “Not in a way I’d apologise for.”

That made you step back. Not in retreat, but in breathless realisation. Your hand brushed the corner of the reading table, and for a moment, he reached out, catching your fingers lightly, not quite holding them, just… touching.

“I missed this,” he said.

“This?” you asked, unable to stop your voice from falling into a whisper.

“You. Talking to you. Hearing what you actually think instead of what you’re supposed to say. Being near you, without a title between us.”

There were no guards here. No nobles. No cousins watching from balconies. Just him, and you, and the space between that was shrinking.

“Landric…” you began, but the name ached in your mouth.

He stepped closer, slowly, carefully, until your hands brushed again, more deliberate this time.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want,” he said gently. “But if there’s even a part of you that still remembers the garden, the books, the way we used to be so care free…”

“I remember all of it,” you said.

And for a moment, there was nothing but breath and heartbeat. You stood there in the library, your fingers resting against his, a whisper of contact that said more than either of you dared aloud.

But you didn’t kiss.

You couldn’t. Not yet.

A door creaked somewhere down the hall. A faint voice, Carlos perhaps, calling for Landric to report at dawn.

He sighed. Not in frustration, but with restraint. Respect.

“I should go,” he whispered.

You nodded, your fingers slipping away from his, but not before you let them linger one second longer than necessary.

As he turned to leave, you said his name, just once.

“Landric.” He stopped.

You didn’t move toward him. Didn’t speak again.

But the way he looked back at you, like a promise, made you think of fires you’d tried too long to smother.

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The alliance talks ran longer than expected. A second dinner. Too many toasts. A request from the lords to see one of the scrolls you’d referenced, back at the carriage.

You volunteered to fetch it yourself. Charles was deep in conversation, and you needed a moment to clear your head.

It was quiet along the garden path. The moon cast a silver glow over the palace grounds, the trees whispering in the wind. You walked briskly toward the stables, passing the guards stationed near the gates, nodding, familiar faces from your own escort.

Then a sound. Quick. Sharp. Too close.

Before you could turn, a hand closed over your mouth and yanked you into the hedge.

You kicked out, hard, biting down, heart thundering in your chest. But the arms just held you still.

“Stop… stop, it’s me!”

The voice, muffled but unmistakable. You froze.

Landric.

He let go immediately, pulling you behind the stone wall just beyond the garden path. His hand now on your shoulder, not holding you, steadying you.

“What are you…?” you began to whisper, breath wild in your throat.

“Someone followed you from the reception,” he said, eyes scanning the shadows. “He wasn’t one of ours.”

You heard it now, voices, low and clipped, moving too quickly behind the hedge.

He pressed a finger gently to your lips. You didn’t flinch this time.

You stayed like that, breath to breath, backs against the cool stone as the footsteps drew closer. Whoever it was passed just feet from where you stood, speaking in a language not native to this region. From your understanding, they were looking for you. 

Then silence. A long one.

Landric waited a full minute before he moved, stepping out first with a blade half-drawn.

“Come with me,” he said.

And you did.

Through the shadows, down a side path, through a servant’s gate in the wall that led to the outer courtyard. No guards. No watchers. Just the two of you, ducking through narrow alleys behind the kitchens until you reached the small stable by your envoy’s carriage. You were amazed at how well he knew the place in such a sort time.

He closed the door behind you.

It was dark, the scent of straw and horses thick in the air.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said, voice low but intense. “Not with tensions still hanging. Not with…” He stopped himself.

You stood near the carriage’s side, heart still racing. “Do you think they were after me?”

“I think they didn’t expect me to be watching.”

You were too shaken to hold your usual distance. Too raw to pretend.

“Why were you watching?”

His eyes flicked toward you. “Because one, it’s sort of my job. And two, I didn’t like the way one of those old cousins of the prince kept looking at you. And because I had a feeling you’d walk back alone.”

“That’s not an complete answer.”

He stepped closer.

“No,” he said. “It’s not.”

You didn’t back away.

The air between you was different now. No longer laced with suggestion, but need. The kind that boiled just beneath the surface, finally breaking.

“You scared me,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“You could’ve said something.”

“I couldn’t risk them hearing. I couldn’t risk them touching you.”

Your eyes locked.

“And if they had?” you asked. “If they had hurt me?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, his hands, now trembling slightly, reached for your wrists. Lightly. Carefully. As if you might still pull away, or break.

“I would’ve killed them,” he said. Not boastful. Not dramatic. Just true.

And then silence again, thick and electric.

Your breathing was still uneven. His hands had moved from your wrists to your fingers, holding them, thumb brushing slowly across your palm.

You didn’t stop him.

“I shouldn’t feel this way,” you whispered. “Not here. Not like this.”

“I know.”

“But I do.”

“I know.”

Then you were kissing him, or maybe he was kissing you, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t soft or hesitant. It was desperate. Like years of longing finally had nowhere else to go.

His hand curled at the small of your back. Yours buried in the fabric of his shirt. The hay around you rustled with the movement, the horses restless in their stalls.

You pulled away first, breathless and a little dazed. Landric didn’t chase the kiss, he just looked at you. Really looked at you. As if your face, your breath, your closeness was something sacred.

No words were spoken. There weren’t any that could have fit.

You slipped out of the stables in silence, returning to the manor’s chambers before the world could find you both. But your hands shook as you untied your cloak. You could still feel the warmth of his lips, the quiet storm of restraint in the way he had kissed you, not greedy, not desperate. Just… real.

That night, neither of you slept.

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[sicklysublimeamulet]

Admiration

Nando was always a quiet student, often caught up in thoughts deeper than most his age would entertain. He had finished college with a degree in architecture—with high honors, no less—but even as his name echoed through the grand hall during graduation, something inside him felt hollow.

He was surrounded by claps, cheers, and proud parents. His own father, Finn, a successful real estate mogul, beamed with pride as he clapped from the front row. But Nando? He just nodded politely, offering a reserved smile. His heart wasn’t celebrating.

Everyone told him he had it all—brains, a degree, a bright future, even financial stability. But deep down, Nando struggled. He didn’t feel confident or complete. Socially awkward, unsure of himself, and often critical of his appearance, Nando felt like a shadow of the man he wished he could be.

After the ceremony, as students gathered for pictures, a familiar name was called for Highest Honor in Architecture: Bryan Alford.

Tall, charismatic, sharp-jawed, with an effortless smile and calm presence, Bryan walked across the stage to thunderous applause. Nando had seen him around campus. Everyone knew Bryan. People liked him, respected him. He was everything Nando wasn’t—but wished he could be.

Later that afternoon, as the chairs cleared and students began leaving, Bryan approached Nando.

"Hey... Nando, right?"

Nando looked up, startled. "Y-yeah."

Bryan smiled. "You gave a great thesis presentation last month. I remember it. The way you integrated natural elements into urban design—it stuck with me."

Nando blinked. Compliments weren’t common for him. "Thanks... I thought nobody noticed."

Bryan chuckled. "I notice things. You got something special. You just don’t see it yet."

That one sentence hit Nando harder than any award he received. The two sat and talked. What started as a friendly chat became an exchange of ideas, stories, even laughter.

By the end of the day, Bryan had agreed to join Nando and his dad for a small celebratory dinner at their home.

The Mysterious Gift

Earlier that day, Finn (Nando's Dad) had stopped by a boutique perfume store hoping to get something thoughtful for his son. He knew Nando didn’t need much—but maybe a scent, a symbolic gesture, would give him the confidence he lacked.

But the store was nearly empty. No premium bottles left—except one, tucked away under glass:

"Magna Persona: For those ready to become who they’re meant to be."

It shimmered faintly when held to the light. The shopkeeper said it was a “rare blend that reveals one’s truest potential.”

Skeptical but intrigued, Finn bought it and wrapped it in a black velvet box.

At dinner, Finn handed it to Nando with a warm smile. “For the man you’re becoming the best of all. I'm proud of you!”

Nando hesitated but accepted the gift, opening it to find the sleek bottle. Its scent was unlike anything he had smelled before—earthy, warm, nostalgic, and strangely familiar.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said softly.

Transformation Through Connection

That night, Bryan stayed for a sleepover. The two boys (together with Finn) shared laughs in the guest lounge, reflecting on the past, their dreams, and life ahead. Bryan spoke openly about his struggles too, surprising Nando. He wasn’t perfect. But he was genuine.

As the night settled, the boys changed into pajamas. Nando, still moved by his father’s gesture, sprayed a bit of the perfume on his neck, wrists, and even his clothes.

He didn’t know the scent had begun to hum faintly in the air.

The three fell asleep peacefully—Finn in the corner recliner, Bryan and Nando on the guest bed.

Then it happened.

As Nando dreamed—of being better, being brave, of having his father’s wisdom and Bryan’s presence—his body seemed to glow faintly under the moonlight.

Unconsciously, he rolled toward Bryan. A subtle shimmer wrapped around them. Their energies aligned for just a moment, Nando feeling Bryan’s calm, confidence, and charisma filling the parts of him that always felt empty.

Moments later, he rolled again toward his father, and the soft light responded once more. The warmth of Finn’s grounded wisdom and strength met the spark of Bryan’s youthful brilliance inside Nando’s sleeping heart.

A New Morning

The sun peeked through the window. Birds chirped. Nando slowly woke up, groggy but… different.

He sat up. His chest felt broader. His posture straighter. He walked to the mirror and froze.

He looked… like himself, but subtly changed. His features had matured overnight—his eyes held both his father’s steadiness and Bryan’s spark. His skin glowed, his voice deeper, stronger. He still looked like Nando—but Nando, refined.

“Was it a dream…?” he whispered, but deep inside, he knew something magical had happened.

Embracing His True Self

From that day on, Nando lived more freely. He still had moments of doubt—but he remembered the dream, the warmth, the transformation.

He applied for architecture internships with boldness. He volunteered at design workshops, helping younger students. People began to notice his quiet confidence and deep wisdom—a presence that felt older than his years, but entirely his own.

He wasn’t pretending to be Bryan or Finn as his father.

He had become Fernando.

Final Reflection

One dawn, months later, Nando visited the same boutique store. The shopkeeper stood behind the counter as if expecting him.

“I thought I’d see you again,” the man said with a knowing smile.

“Can I ask you something?” Nando said. “That perfume… what was it, really?”

The shopkeeper just nodded toward the shelf—where a single bottle of Magna Persona still rested.

“It’s not magic,” he said softly. “It only works when someone’s ready to grow.”

Nando smiled. He no longer needed answers.

He already had everything he was searching for—within himself.

That Night—In the Dream

Fernardo lay down after his first day exploring his new self: his new confidence, balance, and ease in the world. He had the mind of an architect, the empathy of a leader, and the grounded wisdom of someone who’d lived through many layers of life.

As he drifted into sleep, the dream came naturally.

He found himself standing in a quiet garden. The stars were bright above, and a gentle wind swayed the tall grass around him. In the distance, two figures appeared—walking toward him from opposite directions.

It was Bryan and Finn.

They looked just as they had the night before, smiling softly.

Fernardo’s heart swelled with recognition, and he stepped toward them.

Bryan was the first to speak. “You look good, Nando. Or... should I say Fernardo?”

“I… I don’t know how it happened,” Fernardo said. “I didn’t plan for this. I just wanted to be… better.”

Finn nodded. “You didn’t take from us. You honored us.”

Bryan stepped closer. “We weren’t lost, Nando. We’re still here. With you. We felt your heart—what you truly wanted. To be someone whole. Someone strong. You didn’t want to erase us… you wanted to carry us forward.”

“But do you regret it?” Fernardo asked. “You both had lives—dreams.”

Finn smiled. “I lived much of mine already. But I see now that this was part of my legacy—to live on through you. In a way that matters. In a way that heals.”

Bryan placed a hand on Fernardo’s shoulder. “And I wasn’t finished, but… maybe you are the better version of what I could’ve been. You’ll do more than I ever could—we will. That’s enough for me.”

Fernardo felt emotion tighten in his chest.

“I’ll carry you with me,” he said, voice thick with feeling. “Not as ghosts, not as shadows. As pieces of me. Guiding me.”

They both smiled.

“You already are,” said Finn.

Then the dream began to fade. The garden shimmered away like dew in sunlight, and Fernardo awoke once again to the real world—still whole, still strong, and no longer alone.

After That Night into Morning

Fernardo would go on to do extraordinary things—designing buildings that brought communities together, mentoring young people, living with a sense of purpose.

And every once in a while, when life got quiet… he would feel a hand on his shoulder in his dreams. Or hear a faint laugh from Bryan. Or a quiet “I’m proud of you” from Finn.

He wasn’t living for them.

He was living with them—always.

[spotaus]

New Age AU (Bad Dreams)

Woah!! Bet you guys weren't expecting this one!!! (<- no but fr Idk if this one was even a drabble I mentioned wanting to do to anyone besides Ancha lmao-)

Regardless, here's a drabble that takes place a few months after Dream's exile!

(Hello @ancha-aus @papiliovolens and @mutzelputz !!!)

It was quiet.

So dreadfully quiet.

The stone walls felt suffocating, and the darkness was too overwhelming. Even the light of his own magic wasn't enough to ward off the sickly feeling crawling up his spine and over his shoulders.

Roaving like clammy hands, clinging to his bones and threatening to drag him away.

He couldn't take this anymore.

It took effort, one hand over the other, eyes on the rest of the room he'd been placed in for now. One bed instead of two. His legs felt like jelly as he tugged them over the edge.

His feet landed in his sandals not a moment later, and he shoved away from the soft mattress which felt nothing like his own.

Hid eyelights lingered on the bottom of the frame. The shadow there, not reached by the little orb of emotion which hovered beside him, providing light to the barren room.

Perhaps, he feared something would crawl out of those shadows. Tendrils. Pointed and waving. Grasping. Creeping along the floor.

He took a shaking breath.

Another.

He had to at least be able to breathe.

Dream's legs carried him unceremoniously to one of the chairs located in the room where he'd abandoned his cloak.

It was too big on him, the gold and yellow meant for the form the prophecy would have provided him with. He'd taken it with him anyways.

He tugged it over his shoulders, abd the heavy weight smothered him. In a way, it warded off that chill. Just enough to give him the courage to hurry to the door and slip outside.

The hall felt colder than the room.

And almost quieter.

It was nothing like home. With servants and guards bustling about at all hours. With the gentle hum of his mother's magic pulsing through the walls. With his brother's-

No.

He couldn't think about that now.

He padded along through the empty halls. He still shook, but the longer he was in motion the more momentum he gained.

Dream moved swiftly through these unfamiliar and unfriendly halls, until he arrived at a familiar door.

A servant entrance, which he had only noticed because he'd heard horses somewhere beyond as it briefly opened during his first tour. He hated to use it, but he knew guards would be at the main exits.

So, carefully, he entered the space which held it.

A kitchen, of sorts. Piled high with the dishes yet to be cleaned, and with food stores which would last an army a century, tucked away into every shelf.

A part of him wondered what they even did with so much hidden away, but to be honest, he didn't care enough.

He pushed through the door with little effort, and felt a sense of relief rush over him as his sandals landed in damp, earthy grass.

A glance down revealed it had been stamped over hundreds of times by weary servants, so it was flat and lame, but he didn't let that bother him much. He was outside again.

Dream had been feeling suffocated in that stupid building. Out here it felt like that horrid shadow, haunting him, knew not to tread too closely in his wake.

The wind tugged at his overly-large cloak as he stood there a moment. The door swung shut behind him.

The sky, the stars, he felt like he was saying hello to an old friend met in a distant place.

Only a moment later he shook his skull free of his momentary relief. He had to keep moving. Had to do this now.

His eyelights skimmed the dark, and he extinguished his orb. The moon was more than bright enough to illuminate the place he was searching for.

The stables.

As he traversed the open lawn, he noticed. It too was different from the one he knew so well. It was smaller, and had closed outer walls. The doors were huge, and seemed to swing out like any other door. It would not slide like his own used to.

As he reached the entrance, he gently tugged it open. It gave way easily, and he slipped in, expecting to be plunged into the darkness of yet another enclosed building.

Yet... inside it seemed only a bit more shadowed.

The stalls were largely swathed in darkness, but a thin strip of light illuminated the alley between each part of the stalls. There was a skylight above, open air, that was letting the moonlight filter down.

The way it fell, it might's been just past midnight.

Dream moved forward, carefully and quietly. He didn't want to startle the horses. Most of them seemed to be resting just like the rest of the castle. Last thing he needed was to startle one of them.

While he needed to find one awake to keep going, maybe it was better that he not find one. Maybe...

Nope.

Fate must adore him.

There, a few stalls ahead, a movement. Through the space, a horse's head suspended from its thick neck extended majestically into the moonlight nearing its stall.

It seemed to shift, to get a look at him, before settling.

Dream was gentle in his approach, but fast. His hands were shaking now as he approached the horse.

A beautiful, clean white. Little freckles of blond dotting its muzzle and forehead. It was gorgeous.

It stayed still as Dream came close and reached out his hands. They trembled, and he wished he'd worn his gloved. He hated to see his bare bones in the moonlight.

The horse softly nuzzle its nose into his hand.

And sneezed.

Dream squeaked in surprise, recoiling away a bit. He tried to stay calm, if only to keep the horse from panicking, but it just snorted as it stared at him.

Of course he'd get horse-snot on his bare hands, and-

"Excuse you, miss." Came a playful, full voice.

Dream, this time, was less calm.

Why was there a voice? Who was down here?

His emotions must've broadcasted. As he stepped backwards into the moonbeam, the mare whinnied and realed back nervously, and there was a hum of surprise from within the stall.

Frozen in place, he watched as a faint movement, aside from the large shadow of the horse, rose from inside the stall.

Glowing.

Eyes turned to him. Eyelights, like his, a wide and curious sky blue.

And then they drew closer, and where the mare once extended her neck to him, now stood a monster he starkly recognized.

"Oh, Prince Dream?" It was Blue, the squire of the knight who'd been assigned to watch over Dream, "What a surprise! I wasn't expecting to find anyone else up so late, is there anything I can do to assist you?"

Blue was smiling. Dream could taste it. His confusion, which was quickly overtaken by a general joy.

The skeleton wasn't dressed down at all, despite presumably having been knelt in a horse's pen for some reason. His squires armor, largely padded and cloth, hung well on his frame, and part of Dream wished he could see more that just the Knight's arms and shoulders peeking over the stall door along with his skull.

"I- I wasn't expecting anyone to be up tonight either." He replied, dumbly, "I was- was just taking a stroll. Couldn't sleep."

It was a weak excuse. An excuse literally anyone could see through-

"Ah, I see!" Blue's voice cut off his thoughts before they could run away, "You know, you should really try the tea that my master drinks before bed. It always knocks him out, cold turkey!"

Dream was... bewildered.

Blue turned away from him for a moment, disappearing into the shadows of the stall, but his voice did not hesitate.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind sparing a bit for you, Prince Dream! After all, it's our job as knights and knights-to-be to care for our benefactors!"

Dream could hear a bit of movement behind his words, and a few moments later Blue returned to the front of the stall. He used one arm to support himself as he hopped over the small gate, the mare trailing in his wake to watch once again.

He seemed entirely unphased, carrying tools in his other hand, moving to a hanging leather bag hung on a nail in one of the support beams and dumping the items inside.

"If you like, I could escort you back inside and make you a cup?"

Blue was still speaking, with little hesitation.

Dream felt like the squires voice was rattling around in his skull. An overwhelming amount of sound for the quiet he'd just arrived from, and quite different from the sounds he'd been searching for.

Like the chirping of bugs, the sounds of rustling leaves, the pounding of a horse's hooves heavy on the ground as he made his daring escape from this place he did not know.

"Ah, Prince! It seems Marigold managed to get you a bit dirty, I apologize on her behalf!" Blue was a lot closer. "Please, allow me!"

A lot closer.

Dream flinched as he felt soft, worn gloves cup his palms from underneath.

His focus had been far off, elsewhere, but now he watched as the skeleton a bit shorter than him gently used a clean rag he must've grabbed to towel away the remnants of the horse's gunk left on his hands.

Blue was entirely focused on his task, and Dream felt entranced by the action. It felt like his non-existant gut was attempting to mimic a writhing snake.

When Blue finally seemed content, he hummed and grinned to himself.

Even through is thick gloves, Dream had been close enough. To taste it. There was not a single hint of malice lingering in this squires soul. He was so sweet. Unbearably so. He'd barely met any souls with such a pure slate of emotions laid bare.

"P-prince Dream?! Are you alright? I'm- I'm so sorry, did I grab your hands too hard?" Blue's voice once again dragged him back to reality.

A tinge of fear in the air, and the cold rapidly claiming his hands once again.

He looked away from his hands, now abandoned by the squire who'd been keeping them warm. He had backed up by a few paces, and had his head bowed, but Dream could still see his skull was tilted. An eyelight observing him.

Guilt.

Why...

Dream all at once pulled his hands up to his cheekbones. His freezing fingertips gently rimmed the bottom edge of his sockets, and all at once he understood.

He'd started crying. Like a weakling.

He knew this feeling all too well. The tears which used to come to him when Nightmare would be sent back to his own bed by their mother. When she found Night comforting him after a night terror. His aura was always so calming.

He hadn't had Night at all, lately. Maybe that was why he hadn't shed tears yet. Until tonight, of course.

"No- no. It's nothing you did." Dream hurried to say, though he hated his voice for warbling.

He tucked his hands tightly into his cloak, and took a single shaking breath.

And then stepped to the side, and sunk down against the stall gate of the mare named Marigold.

She didn't startle as the wood shifted under Dream's weight, and settled again against the tick hay coating the bottom of the stall.

In this moment, Dream didn't care how bad it smelled, or how dirty he was getting his perfect coronation cloak, or anything. He didn't care that his perfect white bones were digging into old, splintered wood, or that his cheekbones pressed to damp planks.

He didn't care about the squire who saw.

Dream knew he couldn't risk going back to the castle, sockets full of tears. Not like this. So he'd have to fry it out here and risk the squires rumor mill in the morning.

He sniffled as he let the cold sink into the thin silk cloth which covered his legs, closing his sockets miserably in the darkness.

He heard boot-steps, and sunk a bit lower into himself as they drew softly nearer.

Though, they stopped a short distance away, and the weight of the gate shifted again, as sonething denser leaned against it.

Marigold snorted in what Dream imagined was annoyance, and he heard her hooves disappear somewhere deeper into shadow.

.

It was silent as Dream let his tears flow. Shoulder dug into his cheek, folded in on himself like a sort of ragdoll. Sniffles were the only thing which broke that awkward quiet.

But this silence too, was deeply uncomfortable. It was as though his moments of peace were little more than ploys to administer more distress into his mind.

The moment he could no longer stand his self-imposed quiet, he shifted.

And squinted in the darkness.

And found that, just before him, was the side of that squire.

There, back pressed to the stall door, sat Blue. He wasn't looking at Dream. The prince noticed that in one hand he held hid signature weapon, that comically large Warhammer. His eyes seemed focused, skimming the stalls. Watching over Dream's form to the doors far from where he'd turned his back.

Was... was the squire watching over him?

Normally when he threw a tantrum like this, his sorrow would seep into the air around him. He was able to drive off all the servants and soldiers. Very few would linger. Struck by an intense misery.

"Squire Blue?" Dream's voice felt hoarse and wet, remnants of the emotion that had built up inside him.

The young man's eyelights darted to the side, to look at Dream as he was called.

This time he remained silent, his expression still focused.

Dream knew this was stupid, he- "Why did you stick around?" He asked. "It's your master's duty to babysit me, not yours."

It was true. Only the Knight had orders to watch over him. And Dream knew he didn't much like the job.

For that man, there was no honor in trailing a young monster like Dream. Even if he was the son of Nim, Dream was no longer a crown prince. He was exiled. An outcast.

The question seemed to linger in the air a moment, before Blue's browser furrowed.

"Well, I believe you are sad, and it must be a type of sadness which is very hard to fight away, as you are very strong." He spoke, though the chipper tone was something softer now. Encouraging? "So as you fought your battle, I wished to stay by your side and dissuade any enemies from the outside. I could not abandon you."

He said it as though Dream was really fighting something. Inside himself.

That wasn't it at all. He'd been running away from that thing biting at him. Clawing at his heels and clogging his throat. That made him want to run away and never come back.

"I-" Was he really going to do this? "I had a bad dream, Squire Blue."

He felt like a child, confessing to his nanny that he had broken a vase in the hall.

"My brother used to comfort me, from these terrors. But- but I cannot see him anymore. He-" He choked up again, "People are saying he was jealous of me, when he took the crown, but he wasn't. He was afraid. And he cast me out and exiled me to this place!"

If he weren't so focused on trying to contain his voice, he would've been impressed at how unmoving Blue's face remained, amongst the swarm of emotions breaking through Dream's thinly-kept barrier.

"He was afraid, and I am alone, and this I'd not how it should be! Someone, something, scared him into acting out and sending me away and- and here I am. Crying in a stable like a child due to a bad dream, hundreds of miles away from my twin!"

He threatened to curl in on himself again, but he stopped himself when he saw the way that Blue looked at him. Knowingly.

"You know, it is not nearly the same, but I too am separated from my brother." Blue spoke up. Though, he was smiling?

Dream hummed in confusion, tired from his confession.

"He's younger than me, stayed in our home village as part of the city guard. He's the coolest..." He sounded almost wistful, "When I chose to start my apprenticeship I was told I would have to move away, and live here." He lamented.

Dream hated to taste the bittersweet tang of melancholy wafting softly away from Blue.

"Don't... don't you miss him?" Dream muttered, "Don't you want to run away and be with him again?" That was what Dream would do.

Blue laughed gently, a charming little 'Mweh!' That warmed Dream's soul.

"Of course!" He admitted, "But, my brother was my biggest supporter, and if I don't become a knight, then my time away will have been for nothing."

A brother giving unwavering support. Like Nighty.

"It sounds like you treasure your brother, Prince Dream," Blue said, then, "Might I ask about what you think of him?"

Oh.

That's right.

Since he left, he'd only been piling negative atop negative about his brother, making an impossibly long list in his head.

"My brother..." Dream breathed, almost a whisper. "He was-" He stopped, "is the most devoted, kindest, gentlest soul I've ever known."

He couldn't help but think of when they were children. When they had first gotten their masks, and Nightmare had recieved the smooth, rounded owl face. He'd looked so adorable and kind, lavender eyelights wide with joy.

Dream remembered seeing the grin on his twin's face when he'd let Dream press the cold wood to his own face. No doubt it had been cuter on Nightmare.

"He's so smart... he loves reading, and his studies, and always knew how to help me when I'd make trouble in the castle."

The days when Dream was seven or eight, tripping around the halls at night, wet paint on his new shirt because he'd tripped and nudged a new mural his mother had commissioned. It had been wet.

Nightmare had found him and dragged him back to their room, where he'd pulled the shirt off of Dream and immediately set about cleaning it.

He said he'd watched their babysitter do it a hundred times and he'd learned. Dream had claimed the work was beneath them, but Nighty had shot back, asking if he'd rather be caught with stained clothes by the adults. That was the last thing he'd wanted, so he'd sat and watched Night scrub away at the stain in the tub with a few bottles of who knows what and water until it was practically brand-new. By morning it was dry, as though nothing had ever happened.

"And- and he always knew when I was sad. He'd come sit with me, and we'd hug and- and nothing came between us."

Until that day, of course.

That day when Dream was practicing his speech and Nightmare had rushed into the lounge to stand before him. Nightmare's skull had been sweaty, his eyelights pinpricks. He had a scroll clutched to his chest, and a hunch to his shoulders. He'd been afraid. Dream had tasted it like a sour lemon on his tongue, and had gone on high alert.

Only for Nightmare to start babbling to him. Stammering about the prophecy and a curse and some sort of discovery. A warning.

All that Dream had caught after asking him to slow down, was that Nightmare was begging him not to go through with his coronation ceremony. That he'd found a dire omen in the library about some sort of bloodshed. Some horrible price to pay.

Dream had tried to reassure him. That it was just a mean prank, that he and everyone else would be fine. Perfectly safe.

Nightmare had left the room dejected, practically in tears, and had rushed off. If Dream had known better, he would've gone and hammered it into his twin's skull that the prophecy was safe. That he didn't have to taint his own body to protect Dream from some make-believe threat.

Dream sighed a bit, and raised one hand to his face. He rubbed his palm along his sockets, swiping away magical residue from his tears.

He wasn't any less sad, but it felt less explosive.

"Your twin sounds very nice, Prince Dream. I do understand why you would like to see him again." Blue spoke softly.

His smile was boisterous again, and Dream couldn't help himself from allowing a gentle smile to worm onto his own expression.

"I cannot let you leave, that would not allow me to protect you, but if you wish to talk again, I am often an open ear!" He suggested, "You seem less sad after talking."

Hmm.

This might have been the first time in the history of his life, he realized, that he had someone his age really speak with him.

Blue was different from the noble children and the new guards and servants back home. It was something kind. Perhaps it was that he didn't truly understand just who Dream was. Who he was meant to be.

Maybe- maybe he'd like to keep it that way a bit longer.

"Trying to flee on horseback was a silly idea anyhow." He mused, "Would you be bothered if I still took your offer? For tea, that is?"

The joy that flooded through Blue was almost contagious, and he quickly popped up from where he'd been seated, letting his hammer shimmer away into the air beside him.

Then he turned to dream, and extended a gloved hand to him.

Dream took it after a moment, and he was swiftly tugged to his feet too, shaky as a newborn foal. Cold and damp and smelly.

But Blue didn't seem to notice, nor was he bothered. Not by the dirt that coated Dream's cloak or the smear of mud which had gotten onto his skull.

Blue escorted him back out to the grounds, and Dream saw my the moon that he'd hardly spent an hour in that stable. It was still plenty dark.

As the squire began to move towards the main path, Dream tugged his armor and guided him instead to the little servant door, and Drean was rewarded for his sneaky tactics with another 'Mweh!' of excitement.

Blue held the door, and Dream hurried into the kitchen. Then from there, Blue led them through servant corridors that Dream had never known existed. Blue was careful to check over his shoulder every few steps. Maybe he was worried about losing Dream in the twists and turns?

And then, as though hitting a brick wall, they found themselves in the private barracks of the knights of this realm. For a moment, Dream worried Blue might have to enter his master's room to snatched the tea, but...

There was a little alcove outside of one of the doors, carved into the wall.

'Personal effects' Blue had explained quietly, kept in the hall so servants might have easy access to each Knight's favorite drink or treat.

Dream watched curiously as the knight moved towards the space, and carefully extracted a few leaves from a little jar left outside.

"Will that be enough for two?" Dream muttered, perplexed. It seemed hardly enough for a mouse!

Blue glanced back to Dream in confusion, and the Prince realized he'd jumped the gun. Blue hadn't planned to have any tea, only brew it for Dream.

That... felt odd.

"Mm. Have you ever tried his tea, squire Blue?" He asked quietly instead.

Blue shook his head a bit, "No, I've never had the chance." He didn't seem bothered.

Dream only nodded, and the two hurried away. Out of the knight's wing, back through the servant halls, and into the kitchen where Dream had snuck out through the little door.

There, Blue closed the door to the hall, and after a moment, seemed content to begin moving all sorts of pots and pans to find a kettle.

Dream hadn't ever lingered in a kitchen very long. His babysitter only brought them inside once or twice, always upon Nightmare's request. The kitchen here was much smaller than his own, and was infinitely more cluttered. The organization, or lack there-of, made his hands itch.

It only took a few moments before he lifted himself up to sit atop one if the counters, away from where Blue seemed to be preparing the tea.

He moved with practice around this spot, it'd taken hardly any time at all for him to dig out the worn kettle, and it'd been tucked behind little bottles and containers of who knows what.

He seemed to work the stove just fine as well, the little flames dancing along with the little light their magic provoded to them.

Only when the kettle was set did Blue seem to glance around and spot Dream once again.

He moved a bit closer, leaning against the counter a bit.

"Prince Dream, may I ask a question?" He voiced.

Dream nodded curiously.

"Do you ever do sparring?" Blue asked, then.

That was... not what Dream had expected to be asked of him. He'd had people ask him many things, but never of that.

"I... used to." He said softly.

It was ever so slight, a raise in Blue's shoulders, some sort of little happiness sparking through him.

"I've seen you, stopping by when the knights train! What weapons do you use?" Blue asked then.

Dream suddenly had to find himself smothering the flush which threatened to flood his cheekbones. Yes, he did miss sparring, but often when he was frustrated he would pass by. To get a glimpse at the Knights in their armor, so swift and powerful.

"A bow." He said, maybe a bit too hastily. "I mean... I was formally trained in swordplay, staffs, and spears, but Archery has always come easiest to me."

He was so absorbed in his thought that he almost missed the way Blue's eyelights grew bigger. Almost.

Dream allowed a smirk to cross his face, and he held his hands out before him.

His little, pearly white, hands trembled. The joints glowed a soft golden color, and it all drew out, to his fingertips. After a moment, the glow condensed, and swirled, and tightly wove into a longbow.

The bow itself was a pale white, but much like his castle, it appeared to be made of old, twisting vines and branches.

"Where is the string?" Blue's curious tone asked, and Dream was only a bit startled to find the squire so close to him now, examining the weapon.

"It's only tangible in use with my magic." Dream explained softly.

Running a hand along the space, his finger caught, and a ripple of yellow glow moved down a thick, invisible string.

Impulsively, Dream imagined, Blue stuck his gloved hand right into the space beneath where Dream had just touched. There was nothing for him to grasp.

"Wowie... that's an impressive weapon, Prince Dream! You are very skilled, that must've taken ages to craft!" Blue said, pulling his hand back as though nothing had happened.

Dream stared at it a moment, but caught himself before claiming it was an easy feat.

He'd made the bow itself no problem, but the string... they could never withhold the power of his magic. They would snap and send him reeling.

Once, a broken string had swung back and cracked against his chin. He'd bled, and all of the guard had panicked about his wellbeing. He'd been young still, and had been so startled he thought they were yelling at him. Not about him.

After that, mother had insisted he learn to channel his magic precisely. Learn to use it with an easy perfection.

"Yes, it took me some time to perfect." Dream agreed solemnly.

It seemed Blue was going to say something else, but there was a loud whistle from the stove, and the squire jolted and hurried back to tend to it.

Dream watched from afar, letting his bow disappear once more, as Blue seemed to ready a singular teacup.

Once it was finished, he carried both it, and the saucer, very carefully over to Dream's countertop perch. He offered it up to the prince, with a gentle warning of, 'hot'.

Dream took it carefully, and held it under his face. The warmth rising from it was comforting, and the smell was nice. Unfamiliar. And for once he enjoyed it.

Dream blew on the surface of the tea, making it ripple like some dark ocean, before he impatiently brought it to hid mouth.

It was hot, as Blue had warned, but not scalding. He held it in his jaw for a moment, lingering on the taste, before swallowing it down.

He took another sip. Then hummed.

"Squire Blue, will you take a sip of this? Tell me what you think?" He then offered the cup to Blue.

The squire seemed startled, but only for a moment before nodding in determination. He gently took the teacup from Dream, and tipped it so he too could take a sip.

Dream watched his face, and aa the heat subsided, Blue's expression scrunched. He seemed like he was trying to decide whether to spit it out or drink it.

The prince couldn't contain his laughter as it seemed Blue resigned himself to swallowing it. He held the cup back out to Dream in some sort of defeat.

"It's gross, isn't it?" Dream asked through his little fit of giggles. He cupped the tea back into his own hand, and watched as Blue seemed to try and outlast the awful taste surely lingering in his mouth.

"Y-yes, it is! I have never tasted something like that before, I apologize, Prince Dream." He said almost despairing.

Dream just shook his head, "No fault of yours! This appears to be some sort of black tea. Magical, probably." Dream explained, almost fond of the horrible cup of tea.

This was probably the first time he'd found such a thing funny.

If anything, his obvious joy at the situation seemed to let Blue relax a bit again.

Both of them had now experienced the horribly bitter taste of a Knight's favorite coffee, and now they were both complicit in deciding that it was nasty.

Dream let himself giggle again, and brought the cup back up to his mouth.

Almost like a shot, Dream downed the remainder of the liquid. Though it made him shudder a bit under its bitter flavor, the warmth did well to bring a heat to his ribs he hadn't had all night.

When he set the cup and saucer beside himself, he found Blue staring at him, as though he had something on his face.

(He did, it was mud, but Blue was not looking at it.)

"Prince, if it tastes bad, why would you finish it?" Blue asked in confusion.

Dream just shrugged a bit, "I think of the tea as a gift. Even if I do not enjoy it, it means something special to someone else, so it would be rude to waste it." He said simply.

Blue seemed to linger on that for a moment, before seeming to double-down on his concentrated expression. Then, all at once, he grinned.

"I know that you are a Prince, but I think that you would also make a very noble knight!" Blue asserted, before he scooped up the cup and set it aside on the counter.

He seemed to debate the sink, before noticing the piles of other dishes and simply sighed softly.

Dream popped away from the counter, landing on his feet with a tired yawn. His hand raised to cover the action, but Blue caught sight of it and burst into action, moving to Dream's side at an alarming efficiency.

"Prince Dream, if you are tired, then allow me to escort you back to your room!" He insisted.

Dream couldn't help but agree.

As they walked, a part of him wished that he could beg Blue to talk with him until the sunrise, and then stay up all over again the next night. He hadn't felt so comfortable in ages.

But, they had their places.

When the sun rose, Dream would have to be a proper prince again. Take a bath, send his robes to be cleaned, speak with the nobles here, try drafting another letter back home, and rot in the foreign place.

And Blue would have to go back to toting around that knight's swords and armor polish and make him that sickeningly bitter tea on command.

Dream wondered if Blue was even getting any real training, or if he was a glorified servant. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen the young man use his war hammer during training.

Though, all of these thoughts would have to wait.

The bland door to his room arrived, and Blue bowed and bid him farewell.

Dream entered the dark space for the second time that night, slipped off his sandals, and collapsed cloak and all onto his bed. Too exhausted to be afraid of dancing shadows.

[blametheeditor]

“Here.”

Fritz looks up at David’s voice, jumping at the sight of the giant reaching for him. Despite the fact the business man has only ever held him once, it is an all too familiar sight, making the teenager simply tense instead of try to duck away.

He jolts in surprise when something is dropped at his feet. Stares at a human sized backpack sitting in front of him.

“To replace the one I cut the straps off of,” David rumbles, missing the way Fritz’s eyes grow wide as the giant turns to his phone. “Your parents haven’t already bought you a new one, have they?”

Actually, his parents didn’t even know his backpack is damaged. Fritz couldn’t think of a good way to explain why the straps were snipped by a giant pair of scissors, and he’s not exactly willing to admit he nearly got buried in a snowstorm a week ago.

But he doesn’t necessarily need a bag with straps, it still works! Even if it is a little awkward carrying it in his arms.

“Uh, no, they haven’t. B-But you didn’t need to-“

“There’s also a jacket inside to replace the one I cut as well.” David fixes him with a stare that sends a shiver down his spine. “A proper snow coat that I expect being worn whenever you so much as step a single foot outside.”

…really?

Fritz can’t help a bit of excitement as he carefully unzips the backpack before realizing it’s waterproof. He then lets a gasp of awe escape as he pulls out a puffy jacket that looks impossible to be soaked through and warm. And underneath it are gloves actually meant for the snow. And snow shoes.

No, this is too much, he can’t accept these. “Thank you, Mr. Harrison. But-“

“See you tonight,” the giant waves as he walks away, eyes locked on his phone. “And you have another thing coming if you think I’ll be carrying you home.”

Fritz looks down at the collection of items before him in disbelief. Finds a giant smile spreading across his face as he puts on the jacket, a sigh of relief as the last of the chill from being outside vanishes.

David wouldn’t mind helping him make one snowman, right?

[beets-are-not-green]

lsfkemfkseml i'd forgotten about jughead chosing to live in a literal closet instead of moving in with archie

[anominous-user]

it is so fascinating to me how ratio's character stories are all told from an outsider‘s POV and never his own

[carolinanadeau]

In Praise of Sally Ann Howes

As I've made it one of the purposes of my blog to share photos and songs and general positivity about the wonderful English actress Sally Ann Howes, I thought I'd make a post to talk in much more detail about all the great things about her and why I adore her so much!

This classy English beauty possessed a highly expressive face and eyes, an astonishingly powerful soprano, a great sense of humor, and the world's most charming laugh. One thing I cannot stop saying about Sally Ann is that she did not and does not get nearly enough credit and recognition for her immense talent and prolific career, and it's precisely for that reason that I'm here to do my part in giving it to her!

This overlong rambling post is a combination of biographical information and my personal fawning over her performances... whatever I felt I most wanted to put out there in the world and what I'd like people less familiar with her to know.

Click on Keep Reading and I'll take you on a journey!

As she preferred to work on the stage and didn't really pursue a film career, the catalog of Sally Ann's work that can still be viewed today is unfortunately small - though you can find almost all of her early films on the internet if you look hard! In her early film days, mostly made before she was able to pursue her true passion of musical theatre, her extraordinary singing talents weren't utilized by the producers at all.

However, we were fortunately blessed with exactly one musical film role from her, and it's an iconic one: the aptly-named role of Truly Scrumptious in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (1968), the golden-haired, golden-hearted candy heiress who falls in love with and eventually marries Dick van Dyke's character Caractacus Potts after joining him and his children on a madcap adventure. She's a sweet, intelligent ingenue with hidden depths and one of my favorite sorts of character arcs - the uptight, lonely woman who becomes more and more warm and open as she discovers newfound freedom and joy in life and falls in love.

There is something about Sally Ann that just glows in every scene of Chitty, and it's not only that bright blonde hair! The way she widens her eyes sometimes, the way she raises her eyebrows, her gentle and soft presence in the happiest scenes, and the particular airy lilt she has to her speaking voice are all so distinctive and appealing, and I can't take my eyes off her. And her smile! When I say she glows it's barely even a metaphor, the woman just emits light. 

(Funnily enough, I started to realize that many of the laudatory quotes I've found about her also refer to her in this way, like this quote from a 1965 TV Guide article, from playwright Sidney Kingsley: "She's luminous as an actress. I mean that literally. In Brigadoon she really lit up the stage.")

For me, I'm weak for any actress who can do the defrosted-ice-queen trope so incredibly well. Truly starts out as closed-off and prim, and nearly reverts to that state when she and Caractacus have a Big Misunderstanding near the end, but in the scenes where she's happy and carefree, the warmth just radiates off of her.

She also has the most adorable chemistry with Dick van Dyke in an annoyances-to-friends-to-lovers relationship that absolutely shaped my young brain. Whenever Sally Ann and Dick glance at each other, whether with irritation and frustration early in the film or with warmth and affection later on, their chemistry is obvious and natural, and there's so much expressed in each one of those glances. One has no difficulty believing that these characters are going to be very happily married.

(Here's a cute on-set interview where she talks about, among other things, how easily she and van Dyke clicked.)

While I acknowledge that the character of Caractacus Potts was absolutely originally planned to be an actual Englishman, Dick van Dyke played him with an American accent, and to me they will always be an adorable English-American couple. It's a whole part of the charm of this pairing to me!

Sally Ann also had a great relationship with child actors Adrian Hall and Heather Ripley who played Jeremy and Jemima Potts, and did her best to help make them more comfortable and happy during the many very long days on set. Having been a child film star herself, she knew a great deal about how difficult and alienating it could be. The genuine affection the three of them shared is obvious in their scenes together, especially in the extremely adorable "Truly Scrumptious" number, and it really makes the developing mother-child relationship between the characters so believable.

The beach scene, where so much of the relationship between Truly and Caractacus and the Potts children is developed, is incredibly cute and heartwarming, and a lot of that rides on Sally Ann's performance and how her previously prim-and-proper character shows herself to be warm and loving, once she (literally) lets her hair down. We've already seen how happy the Potts family is together; now we see how Truly fits in perfectly and makes them all even happier.

Look at her! Literally glowing!

(One thing I should mention: I think both the plot and the love story of CCBB are greatly improved if one just treats the "dream sequence" as real events, which was possibly the original intention anyway, so just note that is always the perspective I'm coming from here. It's the only way to make some things make sense and for the characters and their relationships to fully develop.)

"Lovely, Lonely Man" is Truly's big solo moment, and was probably the least comprehensible part of the movie to me as a kid (lol), but is now indisputably one of the very best parts to me as an adult. It's an exquisitely beautiful love song, especially the bridge, and I somehow love it more and more every time I rewatch it. Sally Ann's dreamy, graceful movements and the way the whole scene is shot make her look like a princess, and the slow build of the song is masterfully done. She has this distinctive crisp way of articulating her words while singing, especially the closing consonants like N and M, that I just love to listen to. The string section and the building countermelodies are so beautiful it makes me want to weep. Everyone involved in creating this scene and song deserved an award, I'm being so serious. While it's not the highest of soprano songs and doesn't fully show off Sally Ann's astonishing range, she shows an incredible amount of vocal control here through the many diminuendos and crescendos, and she's mesmerizing to watch and listen to. One of her "glowiest" scenes, for sure!

While I've seen people call this song irrelevant to the plot, I strongly disagree - the romance is part of the plot, of course, and while I didn't fully understand the meaning as a kid, this song establishes how much Truly's outlook on life and hopes for the future have already changed since meeting Caractacus, and how much happier she is with the poor Potts family than she's ever been in her life of luxury. Plus, now we know for certain that she's head over heels for Caractacus, but he doesn't know... increasing the dramatic irony of the pining and yearning to follow!

In the reprise of "Hushabye Mountain", which was sung in a much earlier scene by Dick van Dyke alone, Caractacus loses the will to continue the song because he's overwhelmed with emotion thinking of his children being held captive. Truly comes in to aid him with the final verse - another pivotal moment in the developing romance - and Sally Ann's singing here is nothing short of breathtaking.

And of course, I can't neglect to mention the "Doll on a Music Box" number, where Sally Ann, who was not a trained dancer and in fact considered herself to be "appalling" at it, performs an incredibly precise, incredibly impressive clockwork song-and-dance number while on a spinning turntable! She practiced it so well that she managed to successfully complete the shot in a single take, prompting the stage full of extras to burst into applause.

This is another important character moment for Truly, though it's disguised in a diegetic performance: though it's another thing that went over my head as a child who only got to see the movie once, the lyrics about being trapped up on a music box and longing to be freed by love pretty clearly symbolize how trapped the real Truly's high-society life makes her feel, and how she yearns to break free from class restrictions and live happily-ever-after with Caractacus, as it's only with him and his family that she really feels free.

Then there's that incredibly warm romantic look that Truly and Caractacus share at the end of the song when she silently acknowledges the love confession he's just made while singing in counterpoint with her, though they're still in a dangerous situation and can't give themselves away by appearing too human and breaking their disguises... sadly this vital moment is cut off on all the Youtube videos of the scene I can find, because none of the people who clipped it understand that that's the whole point of it all, apparently. But here's a gif!

The character of Truly doesn't exist at all in the original (quite different) book by James Bond author Ian Fleming - surprising, I know, given her name! - and, honestly, the fact that Truly and the romantic subplot of this movie exist are why it had such a strong impact on me as a child, and very much why I fell in love with it again as an adult. Even though the score is wonderful anyway and the story is charming and magical, I can confidently say that I would not have become as completely enchanted or had such a strong desire to revisit it again and again if there'd been no Truly and no love story. The fact that Sally Ann's performance makes Truly so loveable is, obviously, a pretty crucial factor there.

Sally Ann's delivery of "Well, Mr. Potts... now you'll have to marry me!" after Caractacus kisses Truly... that slide from prim mock-outrage to the playful, warm, you-can-hear-the-smile-in her-voice conclusion is flawless. Not even exaggerating when I say that this was the moment that made me into a hopeless romantic as a 9-year-old child. Sure, this wasn't the first movie I'd seen where two people fall in love and live happily ever after, but I distinctly remember that this was the first romance story that had me in a giggling, kicking-my-feet, "I ship it so hard" state of mind. And after revisiting it as an adult for the first time last year, I have confirmed that yes, child me already had great taste in fictional romances!

Oh, I could say so much about the difference in her body language between the two scenes where Caractacus carries Truly out of her car that's become stuck in a pond. The first time, Truly is affronted and extremely embarrassed by the situation, holding herself so stiffly and awkwardly to avoid an accidental embrace that she causes him to nearly lose his balance and drop her. The second time, when they're in love and they know it, she snuggles right up into his arms without hesitation and it's the cutest thing ever. Sally Ann was 5'6" but looks so tiny in that scene!

(And that kiss! Maybe I'm getting off-topic here in terms of strictly focusing on Sally Ann's contributions, because Dick van Dyke deserves tons of credit for making this kiss so good... but wow, the kiss. Several times I have called it "the Most Kiss they could have gotten away with in a children's movie." Again, giggling, kicking my feet etc.)

While Truly's costumes and hairstyling are rarely historically accurate (the film is set around 1910), the stylized nature of her fashion is iconic and memorable in itself. Sally Ann also completely pulls off playing a fresh-faced ingenue who is 12+ years younger than her actual age - and I do wonder if the aging-down of Sally Ann is at least part of the reason why Truly wears her hair loose throughout most of the movie! Either way, it works perfectly and I was shocked when I first learned how much older she was than her character. (If you watch her in The Admirable Crichton, where she is also in Edwardian costume and was closer to Truly's actual age, she really doesn't look all that much different. If anything, I think she looks even more glowingly beautiful in Chitty!)

Also, as for Truly wearing her hair down... it may just have been an intentionally anachronistic stylistic choice, but in-story, I think it actually contributes to her character by showing a willingness to flout convention and pursue whatever will make her happy instead of what's expected of her, which happens to be a key theme of her character arc.

Another thing that led me to adore Sally Ann as a person as I learned more about her over the last year: in the 1960s, she appeared as a panelist in quite a few episodes of the game show To Tell the Truth (as well as a few episodes of Password), and these can be found on Youtube. I really adore how her personality shines through - she's unfailingly bubbly, witty, self-deprecating, and a bit quirky. Just listening to her speak is a delight and she has one of the best laughs I've ever heard. Here is one of my favorite little moments that I clipped. 

By all accounts, she was a delightful person to know and work with, witty and clever, very professional, and very serious about her craft. She also always maintained a great affection for and pride in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and her role as Truly, which is always a wonderful thing to know about an actor in a beloved role.

Another bonus: here is a super charming interview with her after a backstage disaster at What Makes Sammy Run? on Broadway.

She was also, along with Twiggy and Diahann Carroll (as Julia Baker), one of the first three celebrities to have her likeness made into a Barbie doll.

Two of her earlier films I recommend are the comedies Fools Rush In (1949) and The Admirable Crichton (1957), if you can find them (hint-hint, you can.) You may also be able to find the 1966 TV movie of her reprising her Tony-nominated role of Fiona in Brigadoon with Robert Goulet, and although I feel like the oddly close-up way the film was shot kinda does a disservice to the actors at times, it's still amazing to be able to see and hear her in a role she performed on Broadway.

Richard Rodgers once called Sally Ann "the greatest singer who ever sang on the American musical stage." Now, I don't quote this to claim this superlative as some kind of objective fact. If you know anything about me, I am very, very strongly opposed to pitting women against each other and all the Golden Age sopranos are absolute queens who deserve crowns, no matter how much mainstream success or present-day name-recognition they have/had. I just think it's phenomenal that she received such high praise from a man who worked with many of the best musical theatre singers who ever lived... and to think, many people today have never even heard her voice. Without her performance as Truly Scrumptious, it's possible almost nobody would in the future! I am so glad that Sally Ann's lasting legacy was ensured by such a beloved film role.

Sadly for us, many of the theatrical roles which she originated (and thus, for which cast albums featuring her exist) were in shows that either flopped quickly or at least did not enter the theatrical canon, so she never achieved the level of mainstream recognition she clearly deserves. But Sally Ann also played such legendary and challenging roles as Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady, Fiona MacLaren in Brigadoon (for which she received a Tony nomination), Maria Rainer von Trapp in The Sound of Music, Anna Leonowens in The King and I, and, much later, Desiree Armfeldt in A Little Night Music. She received great acclaim for all of these performances and, judging by what we know of her process on My Fair Lady, was excellent at making roles distinctly her own and never merely imitating another performer.

Even in her iconic original role of Truly Scrumptious, you don't get to hear the true full power of Sally Ann's extraordinary soprano. For that, I highly recommend listening to "Another Time, Another Place" from Kwamina (1961), and "Something to Live For" from What Makes Sammy Run? (1964). I'm always sad that we don't have any recordings of her in her "fiery" star turn as Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady, but you can at least hear her do a Cockney accent, be silly, and sing "With a Little Bit of Luck" with Bing Crosby here!

If it weren't for the enduring success of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, few people might have even heard of Sally Ann Howes today, and that would be a terrible loss. I cannot overstate that I am so grateful that we all know who she is because she played this role and we get to see her give this radiant performance of a character that's all her own. Maybe this sounds strange, but I think the fact that this was Sally Ann's only musical film role (and the ONLY role most people will ever see her in) makes it even more precious, and makes everything she brings to the character that much more distinctive and unique and special.

Both for all of the talent and charm she brings to the role itself, and everything else that I and many other fans have been able to learn of so much of her otherwise-obscure work because of it, the world is incredibly lucky to have the lovely Sally Ann Howes immortalized as our Truly Scrumptious, and I wouldn't have it any other way 💖

[wellijustfinnihedoneofthebooks]

Warning to anyone following me, i just started reading the first sleeping beauty book so there may be much uncritical anne rice posting to come

[fingertipsmp3]

Had THE funniest dream last night

[timey-fandom-stuff]

you ever have a dream so unbelievably cool that when you wake up you just about screech in rage that it ended too early...

[xemylixa]

#maybe something like going on a secret mission and halfway through realising that they need to get marries for their cover story to be #believable #so they do

Literally the premise of Journey to Kettari by Max Frei

This links to a wheel with nearly a hundred fic tropes for plots, settings, and more. Spin it twice.

This could also work with art inspiration, but the buttons only allow for so many characters on them. And please do ramble in the tags! I'm going to have no idea what most of you are talking about, and it's going to be great.

[bestfluteninja]

my roommate told me to stop thinking of myself as embarrassing for this and to be kinder to myself about it and she’s right but damn that thought pathway is well-worn

[midnightwind]

having to do a major overhaul of my blog's links because I Hate that I cannot figure out where in the code to center them so if I only have 6 they're more or less aligned nicely

[quercus-queer]

In case anyone was wondering about the Lilo and Stitch movie here’s the highlights from someone chronically online enough to have seen the movie through snippets lol

Nani does in fact give Lilo up to the government, ppl defend it by saying David’s mom is her foster mom now but Lilo is still in fact in the system and can easily be taken away from David’s mom if conditions are “unfit”… the exact same situation Nani was in before lol

Took away all of Nani’s support system that the original movie develops for her except for David/his mom

Had Nani treat Lilo like a burden for “realism”… anyway…

Lilo literally says “you’re so smart Nani, I think you should join the Marines”

Nani was deeply connected to her culture and family, that aspect of her just isn’t there at the end of the day (and part of that is because Sydney is not indigenous Hawaiian and it shows… in looks, actions, and line delivery) and the conclusion to her story being giving up her kid sister to the state and leaving her home for a “better” education and future is atrocious

They had her go to California to study marine biology. First of all, it was implied she was a pro surfer in the og movie no hint of marine biology. Not every persons dream is college and it doesn’t need to be part of everyone’s story… the choice of “putting yourself first” in order to get a better education is very #girlboss… Second of all, Hawaii has multiple universities with marine biology programs that would give far more money and benefits to a native Hawaiian than literally any Californian school let alone UCSD lmao

They changed their island from Kauai to Oahu… most obvious reason they did this was because that is the island their resort is on and overrun with tourists. However, with this location change and their wack ass narrative changes they also made going to California even more blatantly propaganda because that is where the University of Hawaii at Manoa is… ALSO, Oahu has major cities… you know how Sitch has to find new meaning for existence because he can’t do what he was programmed to do because he’s stuck on an island with no big cities… yeah…

On this note, pretty much removed all substantial tourism commentary

Jumba is the villain, he sounds like a whiny computer nerd and it’s miserable

Pleakley is lame, rip queen 🕊️

Lilo is pretty well adjusted and normal lol? No fights, no biting, no trying to curse her enemies etc… she’s literally a normal girl which… alright then???

There is no Gantu (rumor has it this is at its core because they don’t want to make law enforcement look bad)

CGI is literally so fucking bad like besides aesthetics the actors literally don’t point to where Stitch is and when they’re supposed to touch it they often miss lol

Editing is also terrible. Every scene lasts like 5 seconds and is jarring, so genuinely terrible I think shows like this are gonna further ruin kids attention spans lmfao

Nani misses Lilo’s actual performance instead of just being late to pick up Lilo from practice after getting into a fight…

Myrtle isn’t white #diversity win

No ugly duckling subplot

Bubbles is not the social worker and is working against the gang (again removing all of Nani’s support system, he literally shows up for every holiday with the fam in the og)

Changing the social worker role from an externally imposing black man with good intentions to a gentle woman has some undertones tbh considering this is the justification: “According to Camp, it was easy for audiences to believe that a towering man with a "Cobra" tattooed on his knuckles was a social worker in the animated movie​​​​​. However, that kind of exaggerated character design doesn't translate convincingly to live-action.”

The new social worker literally tells Nani that the right thing to do is to give up Lilo… very different from Bubbles doing his best to keep the sisters together. Keeping family together is a prime goal in social work btw…