#i guess we just live and we learn from making an effort to become better people every day

[revelboo]

hello, wishing you a happy belated birthday ~! 🎂🎁🎈

I do have a question for you, would you consider writing something regarding Knock Out ? It is perfectly alright if not, I still wanted to wish you a happy birthday either way!

Thanks! I have wrote him before, but here’s part 2.

My Favorite Accident Pt 2

TFP Knockout x Reader

• Venting as he pulls alongside that ugly abomination of yours, he transforms as you climb out of your car. “You cheated,” he growls without any real heat as he stretches out a kink. Knows you’re not cheating, but still enjoys watching those angry eyes flash with indignation and your helmet covered head snaps up to stare at him.

• Taking your time pulling your helmet off, you bite back a smile. Because you can’t exactly tell the guy who literally becomes a sports car that you’re just a better driver than he is. Not and live long after with that fragile ego of his, anyway. And, truth be told, you don’t want to make him angry. You actually like these little impromptu races. No money involved, but just cutting loose. Learning exactly how much you can push him without it being too much. “I cheated? Me?” You snap back, falling into the persona you’ve adopted for the races. Because if any of the other racers actually realize you’re terrified of them? That you’re all alone and afraid? It’d be over, so attitude’s become your armor. Balancing your helmet on a hip, you huff. “Guess you’re blind and slow.”

• “Slow?” Bending he carefully catches you to lift you onto the roof of your car so he doesn’t have to bend so far to get in your face. Tries not to think about how insubstantial you feel in his hand. “You barely won that last time.” Because he’s learning from you, copying your unorthodox techniques. And enjoying the challenge you pose, the lazy arguing. Seeing headlight on the road above the culvert, he swallows a growl. Eases you back down onto the ground, aware of your little hands warm on his servos. “Humans,” he vents as he falls forward into his alt mode, but lingers because he’s not done with you just yet. Not ready to return to the Nemesis and just wants this to last a bit longer.

• Fingers gripping your helmet, you turn to track the other car. And they are headed down the access road. During the summer, the huge drainage canals are mostly empty aside from whatever garbage accumulated during the rains and that made them perfect for illegal racing. Sure, they’d been nearly caught a few times, but the local PD mostly just chases them off without any real effort to catch them. Probably just happy they didn’t race in the street, you guess.

• The black sports car with a laughing skull on the hood that pulls up is one he recognizes from the races. A particularly loud human who always comes in behind you both, and Knockout watches you hook a thumb in your back pocket. Stance relaxed, but he’s been around you long enough to know about the knife you keep there. Always keeping a hand near that pocket when dealing with the other racers. “Ricky,” you call out, tone flat despite the tight smile as the man steps out of his car.

• Fantastic. Deep breath in and out, you remind yourself. Play the part like you don’t care. “You two working together? Hustling everyone else?” He asks, smile taking on a mean edge as he stalks around Knockout to send anxiety needling through you. All he sees is you and two empty cars. He surfs a palm over Knockout’s fender like he wants to touch the car, but doesn’t. But when his head lifts, that look crashes through you, reminding you that you are in fact scared of him.

• No snarky comeback? Knockout shifts on his tires as he picks up on your tension. You don’t move as the man walks over, still smiling. “So where is your partner? Leave you out here alone?” And then he’s lunging, fingers closing on your wrist when you lash out with that little knife of yours. Making a little noise of pain as he squeezes your wrist until you drop your weapon. “We could be friends, too.”

• Heart racing, you try to hit him with your helmet and he shoves you down, no longer smiling. It’s the sound that cuts through your blind panic, though. That almost musical sound of Knockout transforming. Looking like a demon with those glowing optics as he actually snarls. And then Ricky is running away from Knockout and his car both as Knockout lifts his arm a weapon aimed at the fleeing man’s back and your heart stops. “Don’t,” you gasp, flinching when he stares down at you. “He’s not worth it.”

• Fury singing through him, he crouches to offer you a servo and you cling to him, letting him pull you back to your feet. Annoyed that you don’t want him to permanently remove this problem, because he wants to. Wants the human to suffer for touching you. “Can I at least destroy that ugly car of his?” He growls, baring his denta in a grin when you solemnly nod.

Previous

Next

[sl-newsie]

Snow Day (Carlos de Vil x Silvermist Daughter) *Christmas Special* 🎄

'Can I request a Carlos descendants holiday fic with friends to lovers/everybody knows but them tropes? But the reader is an AK, adopted daughter of Silvermist.’ Here we go!

“No! Cut it out, Elvin!” I shout as I sprint through the icy wind. “You know I don’t like the cold!”

The white-blonde boy behind me jumps up to lean off a lamppost. “What’s the matter? Too afraid to have fun?”

I give an annoyed huff and hug my cape around me tighter. “Just because you’re the son of Jack Frost doesn’t mean you have to make my life a living nightmare with your pranks! Now for the last time, leave me alone!”

In a final effort I let out a water blast that sends Elvin flying into a snowbank, then dash down the street to hide inside Miss Muffet’s Bakery. 

“Oh- Sylvia! Hi! What’s going on-?!”

In my haste I almost run into a familiar face, though this is one face I am always excited to see!

“Shh!” I hold up a hand to silence Carlos. “I’m hiding!”

His eyes widen. “Oh!” He joins me behind the cookie display. “May I ask from whom?” Carlos whispers back.

“Ugh. It’s Elvin Frost. Son of Elsa and Jack Frost, and an icy pain in my side. He’s visiting from Arendelle, and has become the reason why I hate snow days.”

“Hate snow days?” Carlos laughs. “How could anyone hate snow days? I mean, look around!” He gestures to the billowing snow swirling around the window. “It’s so- so…”

“Magical?”

“Exactly!”

Ever since Carlos came to Auradon last summer, I’ve always been fond of his childlike energy. Not many kids in Auradon appreciate the little things like he does, so it goes without saying that we’d become friends. Mom’s always so busy controlling the water elements she didn’t have time to look after me, so she sent me to be adopted by Jack Beanstalk. But like Carlos, I’ve learned to enjoy other things. However, snow isn’t one of them.

“My wings can’t stand the bitter cold. If I stay outside too long, they freeze and wither away. It also doesn’t help that my water powers freeze in the winter. Water and cold do not mix well for me.”

Carlos’ face falls. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t think of that.”

I wave it off. “It’s alright.”

“It’s just that… we didn’t get snow on the Isle.”

That’s why he loves the snow. I can’t be mad at him for that. How could he have known anyway? It’s his first Christmas in Auradon, so he wouldn’t know.

“I guess if you’ve never seen it, snow can be very magical,” I attempt a cheerful smile. “I’m glad you enjoy it! You should go play outside.”

Carlos still isn’t convinced. “But it’s not as fun if you’re not there, Sylvia. Would you maybe wanna stay here for a hot chocolate?”

My spirits lift and my wings start fluttering. “That sounds wonderful! I’d love to!”

“Great! Um- maybe we could sit down instead of hiding behind the counter?”

I nod eagerly and start flying to a nearby table, too excited to remember not to use my wings indoors.

“Oh- right.” I flutter down, and my height difference shows. Since I’m the descendant of a fairy, I’ve been short my whole life.

“That never gets old,” Carlos comments with a grin.

I tilt my head in confusion. “What?”

“Your wings. I think they’re beautiful.”

His kind words send us both into blushing messes, so I try to change the subject.

"Where's Dude?"

Carlos chuckles. "He hates the cold, so he's currently sleeping in front of the fire in my dorm."

By now a waitress shows up to take our order.

“What’ll it be, hon?”

I don’t miss a beat. “A large old-fashioned hot chocolate extreme with peppermint dust, whipped cream, and marshmallows, please!”

Carlos’ jaw drops. 

I roll my eyes. “It’s my favorite holiday drink, I don’t care if it gives me a heart attack.”

“It sounds fantastic! I’ll have one too!” He smiles at the waitress, who just nods and walks off.

This snow day just got so much better!

Evie’s POV

“We’ve got to get them together!” I huff as I pace the dorm room.

“But they are together,” Jay states bluntly. “Haven’t you seen them around?”

I roll my eyes. “I mean, they need to know that they love each other, right? It’s like they’re completely oblivious to it!”

Jay lazily gets up from the couch and walks over to the window. “I wouldn’t say they look too upset.”

“What?”

I dash over and peer through the frosted glass to see Carlos and Sylvia walking hand-in-hand through the snow, each holding to-go mugs.

“Oh my God. Are they on a… date?”

Jay shrugs. “Guess we don’t gotta step in after all.”

I’m still unconvinced. “No, no. It’s been going on like this for months! They look happy hanging out together, but won’t confess their feelings! Come on!” I grab Jay’s sleeve and start dragging him out the door. “I want to see this for myself!”

Sylvia’s POV

Ok, if all snow days involve drinking hot chocolate with Carlos then I want one every day! 

“What’s been your favorite snow activity?” I ask Carlos, who keeps looking at the snow outside as if we’re in a real-life snow globe.

“Definitely making snowmen. Or snowball fights! Wait- have you ever ice skated?”

I let out a carefree laugh as I sip my cocoa. “Yes, it comes very naturally when I can control water.”

“What’s your favorite snow activity?”

I come to a stop in the flurrying snow, remembering how much I used to love winter as a kid.

“I… I liked making snow angels,” I whisper.

Carlos gets an unreadable expression. “Why don’t you now?”

I shake my head and gesture to the frozen ground. “I don’t like risking direct snow contact with my wings. Plus, all the snow that melts under me begins to freeze to my cape.”

The freckled VK looks distant for a second, then seems to get an idea. 

“Wait a sec!” He quickly slides off his own coat and lays it on the fluffy snow. “Now you have a double cover!”

I smile sadly at his thoughtful gesture. “Carlos, that’s really sweet. But I’m not sure-”

“Come on, it’ll only be for a second!” Carlos takes my hand and pulls me closer. “We’ll head straight back indoors, I promise.”

I must admit, Carlos’ pleading eyes combined with the sparkling snow is all too taunting to pass up despite my usual refusals.

With a deep breath, I hug my cape tighter around me and turn around to gently lie down on the soft blanket of snow. The cooler surface is refreshing, flooding my mind with childhood memories. Slowly, I bring my arms out to form the angel, and when I do I feel Carlos lay down beside me.

“Are you having fun?” He asks sincerely.

“Yes,” I answer in a relaxed tone, then seem to rethink something. “Carlos… Do you like spending time with me?”

Carlos doesn’t take more than 2 seconds to respond. “Of course! You’re always so full of fun ideas, and having a water balloon fight with you is one of the best things ever!”

I nod. “Does that mean… you enjoy my company? You like… me?”

By now we’ve both realized where this conversation might be going, but thankfully Carlos doesn’t seem weirded out by it and doesn’t slide away.

“Ok, don’t water-blast me for this,” Carlos takes a deep breath. “Would you be mad if I said I did like you? Maybe… as more than a friend?”

Is this what I think it is?

“So is this a date?” I stand up and my wings start getting excited, threatening to shake loose from my cape. “Oh no- I can’t be out too long!”

Carlos sees my panicked face and stands up with me to dust the snow off my cape. Then out of nowhere, he sweeps me up bridal-style and rushes me across the grounds to the dorm building entrance. We don’t speak, there’s no need to. I trust him not to drop me. Through speaking with actions Carlos shows me just how much he cares, and it sends my spirits soaring. I don’t know if it’s the sugar in the hot chocolate or my dilated emotions, but my heart’s racing like a rabbit!

When we get inside and the warmth engulfs my wings again, Carlos gently lets me down.

“I supposed I did mean for this to be a date,” Carlos admits. “I’m sorry you got too cold.”

For some reason my stubborn eyes can’t leave his cute face. “It’s my fault, I got too excited. I just wish I could stand the cold longer so I could enjoy it with you,” I say in a sad tone.

“I’d keep you warm.” Carlos leans in closer and wraps his arms around me, firm enough to show his affection but not too tight to damage my wings.

Using what courage I can muster, I turn my head up. “I know you will.” And with that, I press a soft kiss to his cheek.

Carlos’ face goes as red as a cherry, and immediately I regret being so bold.

“I’m sorry! God, I’m so bad at this- I just messed everything up- and now you’re mad-!”

Carlos cuts me off by leaning in to kiss my lips and my eyes close on instinct. If it weren’t for my wings going into hummingbird mode, this would be a really tender moment. 

When we break apart to breathe, I hear Carlos let out a surprised gasp.

“Sylvia, um… As much as I love your wings, would you mind letting me down?” He jokes.

My eyes pop open and I look down to find that my wings have lifted us up a good 5 feet in the air.

“Oh! Right. Sorry about that,” I gush as I lower us down, with Carlos still hugging me to him.

“Does this mean we can have more snow dates?” I ask in a timid voice.

Carlos grins. “That sounds fun! I think I just found my new favorite snow activity!”

I mirror his happiness with my own smile and grip his hand. “I think we’ve had enough snow for today, so how about watching a Christmas movie?”

“Perfect!” 

Carlos starts leading me back to his dorm, and when we pass by Evie and Jay in the hallway I swear I hear Evie mutter “It’s about time.” 

God, I love snow days!

@laylasshiftingtonight

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fallen {Chapter Twenty Six}

Alastor x (Fem)Reader

It had been a few weeks after that wonderful day. Alastor and I had decided to keep our new relationship just between us for now. This all happened so suddenly, we were still trying to catch up ourselves. We didn't think we wanted everyone to know so soon.

Or anyone else at that, especially the overlords of Hell. If they knew, it could bring trouble to both me and Alastor. So for now until further notice, this relationship would be our little secret.

Though, Alastor found it hard to contain himself. He was around me before, but now, he was practically tied to my hip. He would always stand so close to me around the other, and when no one was paying attention, he'd let his hand rest on my lower back comfortingly. Aside from little things like that, we wouldn't make much effort to be so publicly affectionate.

However, when it was just the two of us. Things couldn't have been sweeter. Alastor would always have his hands on mine, holding me close, which would turn into a slow dance between us.

Alastor would have loved nothing more to announce to all of Hell, his love for me proudly. But knew better than to do something so impulsive. So he kept his love private, and just for me.

I wasn't any better. I slowly grew more and more use to being in a relationship again, and I couldn't be happier. I had hoped I didn't come off as too clingy whenever I was around Alastor, though, he's never said anything about it. If anything, he welcomed it.

I was so touched to know he trusted me enough to be so intimate with him. He never once rejected my touch, as he would for a stranger.

I trusted him as well. To never betray my love, to never hurt me. And so far, he's been nothing but loyal and true to his word.

"Y/n? I have a question for you." Alastor says as he turns away from his radio set up. "Yes?" I ask, approaching him. Alastor rests his hands on my hips, a kind smiling forming on his lips. "I know this might come off as sudden or improper but...How would you feel about moving in with me?"

"Move in with you?" I repeat. "You want me to move in with you?" I couldn't help but smile. "I do." Alastor hums swaying me slightly, in an almost waltz fashion. I giggle. "If you wouldn't mind it, I would be happy to."

"Oh, my darling." Alastor pulls me closer to him. "Of course I don't mind. I'll have whatever you need moved right away."

"I just have one request." I tell him. "What's that?" Alastor asks. "Make sure your shadow friends respect my privacy." I say jokingly. I had gotten the chance to become familiar with Alastor's shadow, and learning there were plenty more shadows and minions creeping around unseen. Ready to be summoned at any moment by their master.

Alastor chuckles. "Noted."

"Good." I say before resting my head on his chest. I then let out a light sigh. "Is something the matter?" Alastor gazed down at me with a questioning look. "Just thinking..." I mutter. "About what?" Asked Alastor. I take a moment before answering.

"How I wished it was you I met when I was alive, instead of him..."

Alastor hums. "I don't think you'd want that. I wasn't a good man, you know. I believe I've told you of my hobbies in my living days."

"I guess." I shrug. "Would I have been one of those unfortunate souls you enjoyed hunting?" Alastor takes my chin with his fingers, and gently made me face up at him. "I would have perused you, yes...But not for the reasons you're thinking." I let out an airy laugh. "How romantic."

"I am an expert at it, after all." Alastor says jokingly. "You're not too bad." I start. "You're treating me quite well, for someone who's never been in a relationship before."

"Well, I feel it's common sense to treat your partner with love and respect." Alastor chuckles.

"A lot of people don't know that." I say. "Thankfully, I managed to find someone who does. Even if he is a murderous, cannibalistic, demon from hell."

"It can't get much better than that." Alastor adds with a smirk. I laugh. "No, I don't think it does."

Later that day, Alastor had did as he promised and moved my stuff to his home. It was rather easy, considering he could do it with just a snap of his fingers. I was happy to start living with Alastor. I'd always be with him now, I'd get to see him everyday. And I didn't have to hide my true appearance anymore.

At least not while I was staying there. Leaving the house and going to the hotel was a different story.

I removed my necklace and looked into the mirror. It's been a minute since I've seen my real self. As I transformed, a few of my feathers fell from my wings. "Again?" I ask myself. I run my hands through my wings, a few more fell out into my grasp. "What is going on?" I mutter.

Alastor then walked into the room. "Hello, my baby!" He greeted me in a sing-song fashion. He then noticed the confused, and slightly concerned, look on my face. "Is something wrong?" He asks, approaching me.

"My feathers are falling out." I answer, showing him the few feathers in my hand. He took one and examined it. "How odd. Do angels molt?" He asks. I shake my head. "No. Maybe...it's stress? But, what could I be stressed about?"

"Well, this is a big step in our relationship. Perhaps you're a little anxious, moving from one place to another." Alastor suggests. "I guess?" I say with a shrug. "I'm not going to worry about this. It might make it worse if I do." I sigh.

"It's probably best if you didn't. For now at least. But in the meantime..." A mischievous grin formed on Alastor's face. Before I knew what was going on, I was being lifted up and carried to a near by love seat. I was sat on his lap, as he held me close.

"I demand affection!"

"But I need to finish unpacking." I protest. "Later." Alastor said simply before gently pressing my head to his chest. I roll my eyes playfully before snuggling into him. "You're lucky I love you."

When I felt Alastor tense is when I realized what I had just said. My eyes went wide and my heart stopped a second before picking up. I open my mouth to say something, but Alastor beat me to it.

"You love me?"

His tone of voice when he asked that, was one I never heard from him before. Quiet and unsure, as if he heard me wrong, or that I didn't mean it.

My face was hot, my heart racing. Guess there was no taking it back now. Not that I would. I did mean it after all.

"I do." I say softly, looking up at him. "I know that might be sudden, but, I really do love you Alastor. You make me so happy."

Alastor leaned down to plant a kiss onto my head. "I love you too." He says quietly. I smile brightly before taking his face with my hands. "Then kiss me properly." I laugh. Alastor didn't hesitate to do just that.

After a minute or two, we parted. Alastor just stared at me for a while, his eyes held mine in a soft gaze. "I'd love you in just about any form my dear, but the real you..." He took my hand and kissed it. "You take my breath away."

"Alastor, you flirt." I say jokingly, trying to ignore the heat pooling in my cheeks. "It's true." Alastor says, kissing my wrist next. He then left a trail of kisses up my arm, to my shoulder. "Anyone would be a blind fool to disagree." I was sure my face was red now, steam might as well have been spouting from my ears.

He kissed up my shoulder to my collar bones, then to my neck. It wasn't a sexual gesture, Alastor has made his feelings clear about things like that. No, this was a gentle and loving gesture. Just as passionate, just as intimate.

"Alastor..." I sigh softly. "Mon chér." Alastor whispers.

The moment was suddenly interrupted by a knock at the door. Alastor drew away from me, alert, as he held me tight. His shadow then formed next to him. "Go see who it is, and come right back to tell me." Alastor instructed. The shadow nodded before sinking into the floor once again.

"Alastor? What is it?" I ask in a hushed tone. "No one should know how to reach this place..." He answered, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Within seconds, his shadow returned. "Well?" Alastor prompts.

His shadow spoke, I couldn't understand what it was saying. Though Alastor knew, as his expression turned from cautious to slightly annoyed. "I see." He mutters. He then sets me aside on the love seat before standing.

"Apologies, my love. I'll be right back." Before he left, he summoned my necklace and handed it to me. "Just in case." He says before walking away. I put the necklace on, and watched in confusion as he made his way out of the room.

Alastor walked to the front door and opened it, he looked down to see a familiar face. "Hiya Al!" Standing before him, was his oldest friend. "Mimzy." He greets simply. "How did you get here?" He asks. Mimzy raises an eyebrow before sighing. "Figures, you wouldn't remember." She says with a roll of her eyes. "You brought me here after getting drunk off your keester. Remember? You tried teleporting three different times, before you came back to my lounge and whined for me to help you home?"

Alastor's grin strained, his eye twitched slightly. "Ah...I see..."

"And speaking of getting drunk, I brought your favorite!" Mimzy takes a bottle of liquor from her purse and handed it to Alastor. She then walks past him into the house. "You would not believe the night I had." She starts to ramble. Alastor accepted the situation and closed the front door, following and listening to the shorter woman.

"This bum thought he could pull a fast one on me, and not pay for his drinks. Well, I told him otherwise and and had Vinny and Johnny take care of him. Got my money alright, and even a hefty tip."

She goes on. "Al, I just don't understand it. Where did all the gentlemen go? Huh? It seems like you're the only one with any class! All these losers down here ain't got nothing better to do than to try and scam and disrespect a poor little lady, such as my self!"

Alastor hummed, barely paying much attention as he walked with her.

"Alastor? Is everything alright?"

Alastor and Mimzy turned their attention to me. I was standing in the doorway of the living room, when my eyes landed on the small flapper girl. Who was this?

"My, my Al!" Mimzy looks to me then to Alastor. "And here I thought you weren't about this kind of thing." She approaches me. "Hiya, the name's Mimzy. Who might you be, doll?"

"Y/n." I answer. "Y/n, what a pretty name. Now tell me, what in hell have you been doing hiding from me all this time? The the first I hear Alastor's found himself a woman, and I'm only just now finding out." She then turns to Alastor.

"And you Al, how could you not introduce me sooner?"

"Y/n." Alastor starts. "This is Mimzy, I believe I've told you about her." Ah. So this was that Mimzy.

"You have, have ya?" Mimzy smirks. "Better be all good things." I nod my head. "Yes, all good things." I confirm. "And, things that the police wouldn't like hearing." Mimzy's eyebrows shot up. "You told her?" She asks. "I want no secrets between us, of course I told her." Said Alastor.

"I can't say I'm fine with it, but, I know better than to worry about Alastor hurting me. And, really he's done nothing but help me since I arrived in Hell. He's even protected me against someone that shall not be mentioned." I tell her.

"Mhm." Alastor hums lightly. "Y/nhas been rather pleasant to be around. As you might imagine, we didn't click at first. But now, there is no separating us."

"I dare anyone to try..." He says with a static filled growl.

"I never thought I'd see the day." Mimzy murmurs. "Alright Al, you better take good care of her. You too missy. Al is a good friend of mine, I don't want his heart getting broken." Alastor walks to my side and wraps an arm around my waist. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Same here." I say, leaning into him.

"Oh, aren't you two just the cutest!?" Mimzy squeals. "Oh, we have got to get together some time! Maybe at my lounge?" She suggests. "That sounds lovely, however, we are keeping our relationship as private as we can. I wouldn't want any attention drawn to us, and create a potential problem." Alastor tells her. But Mimzy waves it off like nothing.

"I have private rooms just for that. Come on, you won't have anything to worry about!" She says, then looks at me. "What do you think, Y/n?" She asks. I give it some thought. "Well, it does sound nice. As long as you promise we won't be seen."

"Then it's a date! Consider everything taken care of, ya lovebirds!"

Tag List-

@krak-jj

@martinys-world

@cherry-cola-100

@wonderlandangelsposts

[theshelbyclan]

A Sisterly Bond

Summary: Ada and Teddy don’t have much in common, but that doesn’t mean that they couldn’t make a good team

A/N: I just felt like writing again, and for Ada and Teddy in particular. I always imagine them getting on better and better as Teddy gets older. She’s still young in this one, so it’s a rocky relationship still 😂 anyways, hope you enjoy to whoever still is reading my stuff!

Words: 2630

*****

“Teddy, would you be so kind as to give me my coat?”

“No.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Ada sighed, “why do you always have to be difficult?”

“Am not,” Teddy grumbled.” I just don’t see why I have to be your lady’s maid, just because you’re my sister.”

“Ooh, there’s a big word!” the older sister replied sarcastically.

“Tommy says all fancy rich ladies have a lady’s maid.”

“ ‘Tommy says’…” Ada rolled her eyes and Teddy stuck out her tongue at her.

In many ways, Ada and Teddy were nothing alike. There was the age gap, of course, but they also just seemed to have very little in common. Ada didn’t care much for family business, while Teddy wanted to know everything about everything. Ada tried her best to live her own life without her brothers interfering at every turn, whereas Teddy wanted to be like her brothers in every way. Ada made an effort to never care too much, unlike Teddy, who cared so much and didn’t have a problem showing it. Also, Ada wanted to go out in her fancy coat and high heels, and Teddy wanted to run free in her brother’s trousers and shirt.

Polly watched the two sisters and followed Teddy with her eyes as she stormed out the door in a huff. She then turned to Ada and said, “Would it kill you to just say a kind word to her every now and then?”

Ada had her nose back in the papers and shrugged, “I don’t know, Pol. Would it kill her to practise some good manners?”

“You know what she’s like.”

“Oh, I do,” she sighed, “I remember when she was born and you told me how nice it would be for me to have another girl in the family. Instead we got… Teddy.”

———

Nine-year-old Teddy Shelby was walking through the muddy streets and pretended she was a pirate. With a stick in hand, she fought off the assailants only she could see and shouted out battle cries. But in the chaos of Small Heath, no one really noticed her. And if they did, they simply thought: there goes Teddy Shelby…

Her playing was suddenly interrupted though by her youngest brother. “Aunt Polly says she wants you to go with Ada!” Finn shouted out, as he ran towards her.

“Why?” she sighed, exasperated.

“I don’t know. She needs help carrying things from the market?”

Teddy kicked a rock, “Can’t you do it?”

Finn shrugged again, “It’s a woman’s job, isn’t it.”

“Oh fuck off!” As Finn pouted a little, she added, “Please can you go? Ada doesn’t even like me…”

If there was one thing Finn couldn’t stand, it was seeing his little sister upset, so he agreed. “You know, Arthur is always with John. Ada likes me, but you’re Tommy’s favourite.”

“I know.”

“So it’s not that bad, right?” Finn tried hopefully.

“I suppose not.” But Teddy couldn’t help but feel a little sadness over it.

———

“Aunt Pol says I’m to get you ready for church.”

“I am ready,” Teddy motioned to her dress, which she hated so intensely.

Ada sighed, “What have you done to your knees now? They look like you’ve become the chimney sweep’s latest apprentice.”

“Why do you always have to badger me?” Teddy called out, full of frustration.

“Just… clean your knees before Polly sees,” she waved a hand and put on a hat.

Teddy started scrubbing furiously at her legs. Ada watched her and decided that maybe she should make an effort. So she asked, “What do you think of this hat? Does is suit me?”

“I don’t know,” the little girl shrugged, “it stays on so I’m guessing it fits your head?”

“Bloody hell, I don’t know why I even bother. Let’s go.”

———

In the late afternoon sun, Tommy was talking to a man about a horse. Next to him, a small girl was following the conversation intensely, trying to learn as much from the interaction as she could.

“I’ll give you four for her, but no more.”

“Can’t do less than six, mister Shelby,” the man slapped her brother’s hand, “She’s a good horse, that one. Strong.”

“She’s no war horse and I could have fucking five of her for that price. Four and a half.”

“I have a family to feed, sir. Five?”

Tommy shook his hand and that was that.

After he’d left, Teddy looked up and, like she’d been in the business for twenty years, said, “She’s worth at least ten, Tommy.”

“Is she?” he took a drag on his cigarette, but inside felt like he could burst with pride. Then he lifted Teddy up and planted her up onto the horse, “Go on, tell me what she’s like.”

As Teddy rode around the yard, Ada joined her brother. With her usual air of indifference, she commented, “Well, if it isn’t the big brother and his pride and joy.”

“Hello, Ada…”

“Did she persuade you into spending more money once again?”

“Look at her,” Tommy pointed, “She might be the best rider in all of Small Heath.”

Ada raised her eyebrows and mumbled, “High praise…” In truth, Ada was impressed. She’d always been the odd one out in the family when it came to horses. She never much cared for them and riding them had always been more of a chore than a pleasure.

“Why don’t you tell her how good she looks up on that horse, eh?”

“Me? Why the hell would I tell her?”

Tommy locked eyes with Ada, “Because it’s you she wants to hear it from.”

She laughed a little at that, “No, Tommy, it’s you she wants to hear it from. Everything she wants to hear from you.”

As Ada walked off again, Tommy called after her, “She is your only sister, Ada.”

“And what a joy she is,” but it didn’t come out that sarcastic this time.

After a few more minutes or riding, Teddy hopped down from the horse again. Her brother asked her some questions about the horse and she answered to the best of her abilities. But in between, Teddy carefully asked, “Was that Ada?”

“Yes, just on her way home from the Bullring.”

“Did she watch me ride?” Teddy asked in a small voice.

Tommy observed her for a second, “Now, why do you ask that?”

She shrugged her shoulders and turned away to brush off the horse, “Just curious.”

———

Polly was a modern woman in many ways, but not in every way. She might’ve even been insulted if you called her that. So, when it was time for the spring cleaning of the house, she asked the girls to help. Well, she didn’t really ask.

“Ada, you start on sweeping and Teddy you can follow her with the bucket.”

Both girls rolled their eyes so hard it had to hurt and Polly couldn’t help but notice how in those few seconds, they looked exactly alike.

“I’ll be in the back with the washing,” their aunt continued, leaving no room for arguments.

Cigarette in hand, Ada started sweeping the floors at her own leisurely pace.

“Hurry up, will you?” Teddy grumbled, “I have to wait on you to mop and I do have other things to do, you know.”

“Oh? And what important appointments might you have, you strange little idiot?”

“Don’t call me an idiot!” Teddy stomped down het foot, “and hurry the fuck up!”

“Swear again and I’ll give you a slap!”

“Go on then!”

Ada huffed and swung her broom, aiming for her annoying sister. Teddy ducked and laughed, “You’re too slow.”

“Teddy…” she sighed, “I don’t want to do this either and I don’t have the energy to fight you as well. Just shut up and get this done.”

“Fine. Go on then, work, unless you’re afraid you’ll break a fucking nail or something.”

That earned Teddy a firm smack around the head. Angrily, she picked up her bucket and threw its contents in Ada’s direction, instantly soaking her sister.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE?!”

Aunt Polly came barging in the house after hearing Ada scream. Inside, she found a furious Teddy with one red cheek and an even more furious Ada, completely wet and dripping.

“I left you two alone for five fucking minutes,” she glared daggers, “and you can’t even behave for that long?”

Ada seemed to have found her composure again and grabbed another, dry, cigarette. “That’s what happens when you leave me with an actual fucking savage, Pol.”

“It’s not my fault! She started it!” Teddy fumed, “She called me an idiot and she does that all the time because she hates me!”

“Jesus Christ,” Polly lit a cigarette of her own, “Ada, go get changed and then you can continue the work outside. Teddy, you take over the sweeping. Probably my own fucking fault for thinking you could get along for half a day…”

With all the dignity she could muster in a soaked dress, Ada stalked off. Teddy picked up the broom and tried to avoid Polly’s eyes.

“I’ll have a word with her,” Polly said eventually, not without sympathy.

“Which is more than I’ll ever fucking have again,” Teddy spit.

“God,” Polly whispered to herself, “Why did you have to make them both so fucking stubborn?”

———

It was the evening after pay day, so all the pubs in Small Heath were filled to the brim. Normally, they didn’t serve women on their own, but Ada Shelby was the exception to the rule. Harry wouldn’t dare to refuse her.

“Here you go, Miss Shelby,” he said, as he handed her a drink.

She took it gratefully and went to sit down. The truth was, she was hoping to catch a glimpse of Freddie Thorne, but he hadn’t been in yet.

After fifteen minutes, she wanted another one and made her way over to the bar again. But the place was packed and it took too long for her liking. So, Ada went behind the bar and poured her own drink. Teddy watched her and smirked slightly. Deep down, she did admire her sister, simply because she wasn’t impressed by anything or anyone really.

At the same time, an older gentlemen strolled into the Garrison. He was dressed differently, looked like money, and had the confidence to match. Short as he was, he made up for it in attitude. Teddy didn’t know him and eyed him carefully.

Then he spotted Ada and made his way over. Leaning on the bar, he started talking to her, but Teddy couldn’t hear. She stood up and walked a little closer, while remaining invisible in the crowd.

“Come on, sweetheart, pretty girl like you all alone without a man?”

“Who says I am?” Ada shrugged, and Teddy could tell she was uncomfortable.

He smiled at her without humour, “How about I take you for a good time. You don’t want to be difficult, do you?”

Teddy frowned and felt the urge to spit at him. But instead she noticed how he was standing up on the little ledge of the bar, just a few inches off the ground. Cockily, he balanced on one leg, presumably to make up for the inches he lacked.

So the little girl grinned and just as he was telling Ada about all the things he had and could offer her, Teddy walked up to him and kicked him in the back of his knees. At once, he lost his balance and his legs buckled. And in one swift motion, he collapsed onto the bar and then fell flat on his arse.

The pub erupted in laughter.

Teddy joined in, but only got to celebrate her triumph for a few seconds. The man became furious and grabbed her, raising his hand to strike her. But before he could, Ada had grabbed a bottle and smashed it over his head. Afterwards, she calmly brushed the glass off her own coat and bit, “Now, piss off.”

“Yeah!” Teddy added, “Piss off!”

Ada looked down at her and grabbed her hand. She didn’t feel like waiting for what was to happen next, so she marched her little sister out of the pub.

Outside, neither said a word for a long time. Eventually, Ada was the first one to speak, “Would you mind explain what the bloody hell that was?”

Teddy shrugged, a little winded from having to run after Ada in her four inch heels, “I thought he was a bad man, so I didn’t want him to talk to you.”

Ada looked down at her strange little sister and felt a sudden surge of love for her, “He was a bad man. And I didn’t want him to talk to me.”

“Why?”

“Teddy… there are some good men out there…”

“Are there?”

“…but most of them are just bastards.”

Teddy pondered on that for a second, “How do you know which one is the not-bastard?”

Ada smiled, “Well, apparently, you already do. This one was not one of them.”

“So, you’re not mad at me for kicking him?” She tried carefully.

“Mad?” She laughed, “I thought it was bloody brilliant!”

Teddy smiled back up at Ada, beaming with pride.

“Thank you, Teddy, because for a moment, I did get scared.”

“I can come with you all the time, if you like!” her little sister quipped happily, “Keep watch for you?”

“That won’t be necessary, sweetheart, but I appreciate the offer.”

Casting her eyes down again, “Yeah, I know you don’t want me around…”

And quite abruptly, Ada stopped her in the streets, “Now wait a second, you strange little…” she quickly swallowed her words, “Teddy. Just because I don’t always like you, doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Do you understand?”

“No. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe not,” Ada marched on again and Teddy once again struggled to keep up, “but it will as soon as you find your own not-bastard!”

Teddy looked a little too pensive for Ada’s liking, so she said in her version of being comforting, “I’ll look out for you too and kick any man that gets to close, don’t worry.”

“What happened to you two?” Polly demanded, as her two nieces walked through the door.

“Nothing,” they both replied in unison.

Thomas looked from one to the other, “Tell me what happened.”

“We told you, Thomas, nothing happened,” Ada replied airily, while taking off her gloves.

“Teddy, you fucking tell me now.”

But even Teddy didn’t crumble under her brother’s piercing eyes this time. Instead, she looked up to Ada and said, “It’s nothing, Tommy. Just women’s business. Nothing for you to worry about.” She was now directly quoting her other female role model and Polly had no choice but to bend her head to hide her smile.

Ada smiled back at Teddy and left the room, with her little sister in tow.

“What the fuck was that?” Tommy sighed.

Polly replied, not without some smugness, “I believe that was a sisterly bond in action.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Yes.”

“Fucking hell,” he breathed, as he lit another cigarette.

Polly turned around to continue her work, “You’re outnumbered now, Thomas!”

Tommy tried to make a dismissive hand gesture, “There’s four of us, only two of them.”

“Yes, but they’re women, sweetheart, and women count for at least two men. Besides, they’re together now.”

This was all too much for the great leader of the Peaky Blinders to understand. There were some things, ‘women’s business’ as Teddy so elegantly had put it, that he tried to steer clear of. Still, he felt a pang of sadness over his little sister growing up. Maybe he was losing her.

“You won’t,” his aunt read his mind, “but you can’t protect her forever either.”

“If I can’t, who will?”

Polly smiled gently, “We will.”

*****

Masterlist

[puppy-phum]

i find it so ironic how after becoming blind or, simply, disabled, day also turns invisible. suddenly, he's just not there, like it's not he who cannot see but he who cannot be seen.

ppl don't really talk to him, don't address him, barely give him any choices of his own. they talk over him and past him and around him, about him, surely, but not to him. it's like he's not there. he's this huge responsibility, but he's no longer a person. he's left to places like a dog or an object to wait for others to do all the things for him, and then he's just expected to agree with their plans. the same plans that still affect him and his life and future.

no wonder he's so angry and fed up with everybody. he wants to speak for himself. he wants to be heard and seen again. he used to enjoy having eyes on him – as a national athlete, there obviously were many (admiring, evaluating, assessing) eyes on him, and he liked the spotlight. he's obviously very proud of his own accomplishments and it must be frustrating to be suddenly reduced into nothing. like what he did never mattered. like who he is never mattered.

he is just this now. his blindness. someone who can be overlooked bc he cannot see it anyway. he's not far from being dead, as he puts it himself.

-

meanwhile, mork experiences the brutality of being abandoned over and over again. that's his wound. when his sister leaves, the pain gets the loudest, but even outside of that, he's hearing the same thing over and over again.

from what we got to know, no one ever really learned why exactly rung decided to kill herself. i assume it was the guilt over feeling like she failed mork, like she brought him more peril than was worth living for (debt?). she obviously wanted mork to have a good future, but i guess none of her actions ever translated to mork in that way.

to him, rung left after deciding that mork just wasn't worth it. she took "the easy way out" after realizing that fighting beside mork and tolerating his behavior just weren't worth the effort. mork really wasn't making the best choices, but i don't think he was ever "beyond saving". mork just thinks this is how it all went.

and then he keeps hearing the same thing from others:

after being in jail, his friends abandon him even if he took part in that fight for them. he wasn't enough for them to stick around (not that they were actually that good company, but he knew them, spent time with them, relied on them on some level)

porjai broke up with him bc mork was prioritizing his friends over his girlfriend. which porjai points out humorously, as is part of their friendship as exes, but which lands as a stab anyway. "you weren't enough as you are," it says. "you should've done better to not have me leave you."

no one wants mork to work for them bc all they can see is his past mistakes and not him trying to presently correct them. his skills aren't enough to overshadow what he did. him trying to be better cannot erase those mistakes he already made. "you should've been better to begin with," it says. "there's nothing you can do to change that now."

-

ppl keep turning their backs on mork, leaving him behind, labeling him unworthy or simply not good enough. even day's family does this, looking at him once and going, "you obviously do not belong here."

day disagrees. on some level at least, he disagrees. bc mork actually sees him. after all this time, someone actually sees him again.

meanwhile, well. we had that whole montage at the end of the episode to tell us how badly mork wishes to believe that someone is finally giving him a chance to prove he isn't a lost cause, that he is worth something.

-

my expectations for the second ep are that these two are going to learn just how bad it actually feels when someone is able to see you and how hard you will have to work to prove yourself to those who barely wish to listen.

[modelbus]

Here we go, my first tumblr anything-tober. This year I’ll be doing flufftober!

These will be shorter “oneshots”. Also I apologize if this isn’t exactly fluff lmao…

Pairing: Cc!Tommy x Gn!Reader

Flufftober 1 - The Clock Is Wrong (Time Loop)

“Tom, right?”

Day 27 of this stupid time loop. The first day, you didn’t even realize. By the end of the week you moved into despair, bargaining, and anger. By day 20 you hit acceptance. For the past 7 days, you’ve been living out the day as you normally would. Same thing every time, save for it you change bits yourself.

Tom was the boy you bumped into every repeated day at the zoo. The first day you hadn’t thought much of it except for a mental “oh, he’s cute”. But now, when everything is so monotonous, he’s become an oddly bright spot.

It took you four days to get his name: Tom Simons. The name, oddly, seemed to fit him.

He blinks at you, gaze swiveling from his dropped drink—Coke, you learned on the sixth day—to you. His spilled Coke was entirely your fault; you had bumped into him. On purpose this time, unlike that first day.

“How-?” He starts, eyebrows furrowing.

“You have the vibes.” You joke, laughing. “I’m so sorry about your drink, I should’ve been looking where I was going.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” He smiles at you, bright. Most of his smiles were—day 9.

“Are you sure? I can buy you another one, I feel like shit.” You don’t.

He shakes his head. “No, I can buy my own. Don’t worry about it mate.”

“At least let me accompany you to get another.”

This was your in for today. You’ve been trying different ones, just attempting to spend more time with him. He wasn’t alone here, he came with friends (day 2), so you always ended up parting ways. And you always ended up wishing you didn’t.

“Fine.” He relents. “But only because I should make you pay for running into me.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll put my full effort into walking with you to get another drink.” You laugh, sarcasm lacing your words.

“Coke.” He says. “And you should.” After a moment of heading back up to the fridge with the drinks in the gift shop, he speaks again. “So. You guess people’s names from their vibes a lot?”

“It’s actually my superpower. Don’t tell anyone though.” You nudge your shoulder against his, grinning when he nudges you back.

“Name someone else then.” He challenges.

Truthfully, you panic for a second. Sure, you know the names of his friends (Wil and Phil—day 8), but they’re outside. And then your eyes land on someone in a red vest declaring them as a zoo employee.

“Janet.” You say, pointing at the worker.

Tom grins at you, like he’s predicting your downfall, then marches up to the worker with his new Coke in hand. “Hey, what’s your name?” He asks the worker, already turning to you.

“Uh, Janet. Is there anything I can help you with?”

His jaw drops open, and he quickly shakes his head. “Uh- no, thanks!”

You let out a loud laugh, and he grabs your wrist to drag you to get in the checkout line for his Coke.

“How did you do that?!” He hisses, glancing around.

“She had a name tag, Tom.” You laugh, covering your mouth to muffle the sound so people don’t stare.

“…Oh.” His cheeks flush, making you laugh even more. “Stop! Shut up!”

He quickly pays for his Coke, shaking his head at you. But you know better, and you know his humor. Besides; he’s smiling.

“I can’t believe you actually believed me.” You sigh, still smiling like an idiot.

“How was I meant to know she had a name tag?”

“With your eyes!”

At the exit door to the zoo gift shop, he pauses, fidgeting with the bottle of Coke. Your heart leaps into your throat. This is it. Most likely your parting for the day. Sure, you’ll see him tomorrow, but that’s after another cycle. Another looped day.

“Are you here alone, or…?” He starts, trailing off so you can fill in.

“Alone. I know, it sounds sad, but I like the zoo. And you?”

“Friends. Two of ‘em, actually.” This is normally where he starts to sound apologetic and makes an awkward goodbye. You brace yourself for it, in fact. “Do you- do you want to join us?”

For all the times you’ve waited for this invite, you aren’t sure what to do now that you have it. “Oh.” Is the only thing that comes out of your mouth.

“Not that you have to or anything, but if you want to. I mean, you seem pretty cool and not like a serial killer or anything. Unless you like pineapple on pizza. Then I’m going to have to leave you.”

You shake your head. “I don’t like pineapple on pizza, don’t worry.”

“Cool.” He grins at you. “So…?”

“Yeah, I’d love to join you. And your friends.”

As you step out of the shop with him, rolling your eyes playfully at a dumb joke, you can’t deny the warmth that fills you. Even if it was only for today, a day you’ll repeat, you get to spend it with a boy with blond hair and a smile like the sun.

[aeroblossom]

more on albedo and rhinedottir

what is transmutation, if not rebirth?

okay. i think i figured out the motive behind rhinedottir's creations, among other things.

bear with me and my poor explanation, i'm also really bad at linking sources lmao. do correct me if i've gotten any details wrong. much of this was possible thanks to conversations with a friend of mine!

rhinedottir's reason for creating durin, elynas, albedo and everything else was to find the meaning of life itself.

i'm gonna try and make it as simple as possible to get, i hope.

so, back in search in the algae sea, during the third orthant - cater gives us a riddle, to which the answer is 'love'. some discussion upon alchemy and the orthants with my friend later, we decided to match the stages of alchemy (in rene's given order) to the order of orthants we travelled. that makes citrinitas corresponding to love. the third orthant is also the one of the soul. love and soul.

so here's an idea i've had for a long time. one motive for rhinedottir's actions may be that she was trying to recreate someone dear to her through albedo. someone she loved - be it a family member, lover, anything. with my friend, i discussed how rene quotes aleister crowley's poem regarding the womb of pan, which is essentially a void where all souls originate and/or return to in the time of rebirth. durin and elynas both speak about how they existed in some empty darkness before rhinedottir called them forth - but not albedo.

albedo's earliest memories, he says, are of traveling with rhinedottir. so.

'primordial human project'. rene's search led him to primordial humans. he tried to become one and failed. it involved dissolving himself to be reborn.

'primordial human project' - consider, albedo is not an original creation, but a reborn being.

the rebirth of someone dear to rhinedottir whom she tried to make a primordial human.

why? because albedo is her last ditch effort at saving the world - just like rene. like how citrinitas corresponds to the age of glory for empires and their subsequent collapse with the coming of the stage of rubedo, rhinedottir - khaenriah as a whole - knew its end was destined, and they must have known this. she asks albedo to reach the far side of philosophy and create a better future for them all.

think about it. societal collapse is imminent, your country is crumbling, the end of the world is near and everything feels so utterly doomed. and you know it. you know you're doomed. she must have known of the world formula, must have known rubedo must follow citrinitas.

in the hexenzirkel trailer, she sounds just somewhat reluctant when it comes to being called a mother. you know what this reminds me of, who she reminds me of? ruan mei. ruan mei, upon learning of the infinitely transient nature of life, sinks into emptiness. she can't show love to the creations she's made with her own hands. she knows so well how short, and thus meaningless their lives are. she fears forming attachment - she dissects the scientific meaning of attachment in her character trailer instead of seeing it as something people just do.

rhinedottir must thus have attempted to flip the last two stages of alchemy to prevent their fate, yeah?

if everything is truly meant to end, if it's all destined to fall from rise, what is really the point?

most hoyoverse games are about fighting this sort of nihilistic thinking. the character of otto apocalypse makes it abundantly clear. otto's character takes great inspiration from friedrich nietzsche, whom many people misunderstand for a nihilist. however, nietzsche's philosophies were actually staunchly against nihilism.

rene tried to save the world because he wanted to believe it has meaning. it troubled him that the rise and the fall are void of purpose, he wanted to save it because he believed there was a point in its existence.

rhinedottir is no different. there is no force greater than love. and guess what?

in wagner's play 'the ring' - the dwarf alberich steals the rhinegold from the rhinemaidens. the rhinemaidens tell him there's nothing greater than love in the world. and what does alberich do?

he denounces - wouldn't you know - love.

like rene, rhinedottir became the scapegoat for the cataclysm for her deeds.

i've expressed previously that the primordial human rhinedottir was trying to create through albedo may possibly be the third descender. one who descends.

so, then,

that may be what dainsleif means when he says "we will defy this world with a power from beyond", no?

[side theory :: i once came across the idea of the twins being meteors. the rifthounds induce corrosion on you, making you bleed. gold corrodes. and gold on the earth is also theorized to be extraterrestrial, ie, it came from meteor impact. so then, what if the twins are the source of azosite, or any other such materials derived from gold, that khaenriah now prizes?]

so, tldr : rhinedottir, amidst a world rapidly approaching its doom having learned of the world formula, seeks to prove it wrong, to prevent it, undo it - she tries to fight back against collapse by finding meaning itself. there is nothing more transient than life itself, and thus she sought to prove that there is meaning in something as short lived as that. i'm shaky on albedo being a life reborn, but i do believe it's not impossible. he could have been somewhat dear to her that she tried to make attain the status of primordial human - descender, even - so as to undo the laws of fate.

(some screenshots of the discussion, NOT in chronological order)

[phantombanquet]

Main Story: Diasomnia Book Chapter 6 Episode 7-88: Difficult Transport! (Translation)

Episode 7-88-1

⚠️ Major Diasomnia spoilers! Proceed with caution.

Location: Land of Briar - Land near Castle

Grim: Funyaarh... Where's this place?

Sebek: This scenery... There is no doubt to it.

This is the place where we were swallowed by the “darkness”! We've returned!

Silver: Where are father and the others?

Sebek: He was supposed to be heading towards the dark forest...

Silver: !! Everyone, look at the ground. These are marks of iron shoes!

Father and the others are in danger. LET'S CHASE AFTER THEM QUICKLY!!

Iron Ones A: W-What is this power!

Iron Ones B: If the magicians had not kept the flames out, we would have been entirely roasted by now.....!

Knight of Dawn: Don't let your guard down! You'll be trampled on!

Mallenoa (Dragon): ROAARRRR—!!!!

Iron Ones C: DON'T GIVE THE WITCH ANY TIME TO REST! GO, GO——!!

Iron Ones: ARGHHHH!!!

Sebek: Ahh...... Mallenoa-sama!

Grim: Sebek, quit messin’ around!

If I remember correctly, we can't be too separated from the owner of the dream! We’ll lose Lilia if we don't do somethin’!

Sebek: You don't have to tell me! But even though I know it's just a dream…… Damn it!

[Choice 1] Yuu: I know it's tough, but we have to go.

[Choice 2] Yuu: Even if we turn back here now, it won't change the past.

Silver: ……Yeah. Let's hurry before the rain washes away their footprints!

Location: Land of Briar - Vicinity of Castle

Grim: Funyaargh~! The rain keeps on gettin’ heavier and heavier!

Sebek: The road is getting muddy and the sun is already setting…… You guys better hurry up! We'll lose track of their footprints!

Grim: Stop sayin’ nonsense! I can't run any faster than this!

Sebek, can't ya use the magic you used when you were looking for Silver earlier?

It went BABABAT! While it was shining and moving real quick.

Sebek: Are you talking about “Living Bolt”?

Silver: I also saw that magic for the first time. Since when did you learn your Unique Magic?

Sebek: When you entered Night Raven College, I was training all by myself in Briar Valley……

I seized the opportunity to continue my great efforts to immediately respond to the Young Lord's needs, in case of an emergency.

However… It is still far from being ‘mastered’.

It is a magic that transforms one’s body into lightning for movement and attack. But……

Since I still lack the skill needed, it leaves my body a bit damaged for a little while once I use it.

It was fortunate enough that my opponent earlier was a half-asleep Silver, but if it was an enemy, they would not wait for the damage to heal.

Even if I used that magic now to catch up with Lilia-sama and the others, I would have become a burden.

Actually, I was never really planning to use it in public.

I never thought I would have to use it to wake up the sleepyhead, Silver, of all people……

Silver: That is…… I’m sorry. But, it's a Unique Magic that’s just like you.

Sebek: Hm. (whispering) …I’m within a dream, but I guess it’s still fine to make a big deal out of it…… Jeez……

Silver: There is something I have been thinking about since we crossed Father’s dream.

Even if this is a dream shown to us through the magic of Malleus-sama—

I wonder why there were so many painful things that happened.

[Choice 1] Yuu: Now that you mentioned it…..

[Choice 2] Yuu: It’s been a series of difficult events……

Silver: In the dream that Sebek had, Father and Malleus-sama were going to an off-campus training program together……

According to Malleus-sama’s words, the person themselves is happy.

We should be able to continue seeing convenient dreams.

If that was the case, Father would not have to fight with humans and Malleus-sama’s parents would have still been alive,

We should have been able to see the dream of Briar Valley continuing to survive as a great power.

Sebek: Mhm… You certainly have a point.

Silver: Malleus-sama said he’s monitoring our dreams and that…… He’s governing over our dreams…

If he is aware of our presence, I wouldn't be surprised if he eliminates us right away, like what he did when we were in Sebek’s dream.

Sebek: Hm……

This is merely a prediction, but…

Perhaps Malleus-sama is unable to monitor Lilia-sama’s dream for some reason.

Silver: It’s possible. I wish I could somehow get Father to wake up from his dream to ask for his help……

*sounds of swords clashing*

Everyone: !!

Sebek: The sound of a sword fight!

Silver: It sounds close! Let’s hurry!

TO BE CONTINUED...

personal translator's note: not jp proofread as i hurriedly translated this to help those who do not understand jp. i'm not sure if i can translate the entire episode 7-88 but i will definitely translate up until the part of sebek's new ssr card.

[improvised-finish]

Is your character particularly philosophical? Have they ever pondered the way of the world and their place in it, for better or worse? Are they happy with where they're at or do they aspire to change things? What thoughts keep them awake at night when they're trying to sleep?

"Philosophical? Don't know if I'd go that far, but sure, I've thought about the way things are in general and the way my life has gone. When your partners are both esteemed scholars it's kinda hard not to get around to talking about that kind of stuff eventually." She laughs, her pride in her partners showing through.

"Even before I was in a relationship, though, I'd spent time thinking about how I should use the overwhelmingly large amount of power that had been placed on my shoulders. I think I was such an ardent pacifist early in my journey almost as a reaction to it. It was a small way to resist that fate, I guess. A way to say that even if I was forced to become a weapon, I would not take lives indiscriminately." She looks down and to the side, trying to figure out how exactly to continue. "Unfortunately, I pretty quickly had to learn that pacifism can only go so far. I still believe in it, in the broad strokes. I aim to incapacitate if it can be helped, but being on the front lines against a foe who will not hesitate to take your life in the blink of an eye... hardens you, if that makes sense."

"But back to the question: my place in the world. It's never really the same for too long, I've found. I've been a weapon to be wielded, then a symbol for liberation, then a beacon of salvation, and now just a citizen of Eorzea. I think I'm happy with where I am now, but there were many points along the way where I had to figure out how to change, how to become myself. Fortunately I'm surrounded by partners and friends who've been there to help and support me as I do, and now I think I've found a 'me' that's comfortable, so to speak. Beyond the titles and all that, I just want to be known as someone who wants to help, and I think I've managed that."

"As for what keeps me up at night... Mostly irrational fears. Losing the people who mean so much to me. Not being able to be there to help when it's needed. Being too late to save anyone. Some of these were things that we confronted when we battled against Meteion's song of oblivion, but... I think there's still some small shred of worry inside me somewhere, even though we overcame it in the end. I don't know. I guess I fear being alone most of all. That isolation kept me from becoming who I truly wanted to be for so long, even though it was somewhat self-imposed, and now that the day has been won and we can simply enjoy each other's company, it hurts to know that someday will be the very last day I'll spend with my partners, with my mother, with Beau and the rest of the Scions." She pauses, tearing up a bit at the memories of those she was unable to save. "I'm sorry, I just... Loss has never been a stranger in my life for too long, and I... well I wonder what it would be like if those people had survived. If Ysayle and Haurchefant had lived to see what became of Ishgard, to see humans and dragons joined to save the star. If Moenbryda and Papalymo had lived to learn all of Etheirys' many secrets. If Conrad had lived to breathe the air of a free Ala Mhigo. If Tesleen had lived to gaze upon on the beauty of the night sky, stars twinkling overhead. I try to carry their memories with me as I travel, to give them bits of the world they might've liked to see themselves, but it does get to me sometimes. That the good fortune to survive through all hardship can be a sword that cuts both ways."

"That reminds me of a moment that I'm not exactly proud of, but... it's better if I talk about it, I think. As kind of an example. When I'd first gone to Garlemald proper with the relief effort, we'd gone to offer aid to the survivors in one of the train stations, and been taken hostage for our troubles. Jullus, the young man who'd been given the responsibility of making us useful, eventually opened up to me about how he'd come home from his military duties to find his entire family tempered, and how he'd been forced to take their lives to ensure his own survival. It was a chilling story, and the prospect of something like that happening while I was gone haunted me. The first moment after we were no longer held captive, I fled. I couldn't handle the idea of coming home to my mother and finding her under the thrall of the towers. I ran back to camp, grabbed as many warding scales as I could carry, and teleported all the way to Gridania. I didn't stop running until I was on my mother's doorstep. I was a proper mess; to say my emotions got the better of me was an understatement. After she'd managed to get me to let go of her and take some deep breaths, I implored her to take the scales and give them to everyone she knew. To always carry them. She agreed to do it, thank the Twelve, and explaining what had happened when I got back to Camp Broken Glass was... uncomfortable, to say the least, but I just... couldn't let it happen to her too. Maybe that's selfish, that I stole some away for my own ends, but I couldn't bear the thought of having to turn on my own kin like that. I'd endure a thousand more awkward lectures from Lucia if it meant I never had to worry again." She takes a heavy breath, as if she had just run a malm. "It's why I try not to stray too far from those I care about, if I can help it. Leaving home has always felt difficult, and I imagine that fear is probably part of why. And that's also probably why getting to return home to share gifts and stories is my favorite part of my travels. It feels like closing the circle, completing the loop. It feels like a chord finally resolving in a piece of music. It feels like... well, home."

[dailyanarchistposts]

Appendix 2: Breaking Down the Walls around Each Other—An Interview with Kelsey Cham C.

Kelsey Cham C. is a former collective member of the Purple Thistle who worked with carla as a youth at the Thistle.

Nick and carla: One of the things we’re trying to think through with the notion of sad militancy is the way that Empire gets smuggled into radical movements in spaces through mistrust, fear, rigidity, shame, competition, and so on … but we want to think this through without blaming individuals. It’s not about individual feelings or behaviors; it’s about ways of relating that are coming out of this system.

Kelsey: Yeah, we’re recreating it.

Nick and carla: Yeah, and we’re interested in talking to people that seem to be able to tap into something different, and I think you do that.

Kelsey: (laughs) I’m glad you think so.

Nick and carla: I guess the first question is: does this resonate, does this description of sad militancy make sense to you?

Kelsey: Yeah, it’s funny because I don’t use those terms, but I find myself in situations where we’re having conversations about the exact same things, but with many different folks who are politically aware and trying to create change. It is really hard to not fall into sad militancy; I catch myself being overly critical of either myself or other people in their efforts to organize and create something better and new, or something that’s never been done before. It’s frustrating, and I find myself asking “why is this happening, this constant critique?” It’s totally internalized capitalist patriarchal shit.

I think it’s connected to perfectionism and the desire to do things “the right way” that becomes a part of us—it’s hard to not recreate that when that’s how you grew up and have learned that this is what’s true.

Nick and carla: So what do you think made you get to a place where you’re able to catch yourself and do something else?

Kelsey: That’s a really good question … well, all those things are super isolating. Most people in this culture have experienced that pretty in-depth in their personal lives. I have, and when I’m critical of myself or other people, I try to strive for something that doesn’t exist, I’m always unhappy and I get frustrated, I get angry, I can get violent … those are things that aren’t productive.

I don’t know, I don’t know if there’s one specific thing; I don’t even know if I’m very good at being joyfully militant or whatever. I think my background in karate has helped, though … And basically recognizing that we’re all in this together and we all have a common goal, and making efforts to love each other—not just tolerate each other—but actually see how we can feel love for everyone to some degree. I think we’re capable—maybe that’s naïve or whatever—but I think we’re capable of doing that … that’s probably arguable too.

Nick and carla: Do you think there are things that make rigidity or sad militancy spread?

Kelsey: Yeah for sure, I think people get sucked into stuff, right? I found myself going back to what’s comfortable. If I’m part of a group and people start hating on a certain thing in a way, I think it’s easy for me to get caught up in that. It’s something that I try to catch myself doing and recognize that’s not how I feel at all … it’s old patterns coming up again, and when you’re in new situations it’s easy for those patterns to come out.

Nick and carla: Have you seen spaces, conversations, or practices shift from joyful militancy to sad militancy, or vice versa?

Kelsey: Yes, I would say so. I think I’ve seen spaces where everything has ups and downs, and people have ups and downs—going from sad to joyful to sad again—it’s exciting and then a key person leaves, or a project falls through, or maybe people are not happy with the way that everyone is contributing … sometimes that energy falls or maybe people lose interest.

But sometimes I can shift the energy of an entire crew of people … I find that usually, when people are able to recognize that we’re all in this together and it’s not a battle against each other. I think that’s usually what it is: having that foundation of common vision or goals or whatever. And usually there’s someone who is able to be joyful … in the same way that sad militancy is contagious, joy is also contagious; people get excited by new energy.

Nick and carla: What do you think encourages and sustains joyful militancy?

Kelsey: I dunno … I’m pretty new to this whole way of being I guess, but I think humility is a huge part of it, and also community credit—“we did that together”—and celebrating tiny accomplishments can be really awesome; celebrating each other’s accomplishments, and respecting that stuff. I think part of the sad militancy—just to go back to how it catches on—is because I think in our society we learn to be overly critical and perfectionist … it’s so easy to criticize people’s work and what they’re doing without recognizing what they’re trying to do and what they’re actually accomplishing. At the same time, criticism can be a gift for everyone involved when it’s about learning and figuring things out together.

Nick and carla: So it’s not even that criticism equals sad militancy; is there a way to do criticism that can be joyful?

Kelsey: Oh, totally. I was just talking about this with a friend the other day. I think it’s important to talk to people about how they receive criticism and how they would want to, or if they even can safely, I guess. But for me I think it’s really, really, really awesome when people give me feedback and constructive criticism in a respectful way; even if it’s in a non-respectful way, I’ll take it, I might be angry about it, it might make me irritable or hate on something, but I’ll absorb it as well. All criticisms are gifts because they’re perspectives that I probably didn’t have before and I can work with. And I acknowledge that I can’t make everyone happy and that’s not what I’m trying to do. I want to be as inclusive as possible with the work that I’m doing, but there’s no way that every single person is gonna be super stoked about it. And to receive criticism I also need to have a positive feedback system, where it’s like: if I receive 10 things I’m doing so-called “wrong,” it will make me feel like I’m not doing anything right, and I don’t know what to keep and what to change. It’s like if you’re playing cards and you think I’m just gonna fold and leave every time. But probably there are some things I should keep, so positive feedback is also really important.

carla and Nick: We want to talk about the importance of trust, and the radical potential of trust, without turning trust into some commandment. Does this resonate? Can you talk about the potential of trusting folks up front, and how you saw it play out at the Thistle?

Kelsey: Yeah totally, I think that’s awesome. Actually I think you [carla] were one of the first people to actually trust me without even knowing me. And I was like what the hell? Why? Why? How do you know I’m not gonna just fuck everything up and run away and steal a bunch of money and go? How do you know that? But in trusting me, I was like, holy shit: I trust this situation and this collective twenty times more and I want to give back to it because I’ve been given this opportunity to do something that I’ve never been able to do before, which is awesome.

But I have been thinking about trust and how with trauma we build all these walls and we start to mistrust everything. I have a pretty hard time trusting people. There’s a point where I’m like, this is too personal and too intimate and now my walls are going to go up. I was sitting and thinking about how it’s probably one of the best ways to break down the walls of the system is to break down the walls around each other first, and I think that requires trust.

Joyful Militancy and trust, and compassion, and humility are all tied together, I think: in other cultures, traditional cultures—I don’t know a lot about this—but from what I know, older Indigenous cultures have these ideas of respect, humility, compassion, and I think in karate I’ve seen it and it’s interesting because karate is a martial art, a fighting tool, and one of the things that we learn is that we have to love everyone including our opponents. And that’s the toughest thing to say in this community. People are like “what the fuck, how can you say that, you can’t just love your abuser.” And it’s true, I can’t just let go of everything. It’s not that; it’s being compassionate, I think, to situations.

carla and Nick: What makes it hard to nurture trust? What’s been your experience with trust in your everyday? And in radical spaces?

Kelsey: I feel like trauma is the biggest hurdle for me. From what I see happening around me and my own self, a lot of people—not everyone—but a lot of people who are politically involved and radical are there because they’re the short stick: they’ve been oppressed and traumatized. That’s often what leads people to these ideas and values, maybe? Well, for me that’s true … but I think when we lose trust in anything—either family, or relationships, or the system that we’re part of—we build walls to protect ourselves. And it takes a lot of work to break down those walls, and we need to trust, and when you’re trying to defend yourself all the time, and you don’t trust anything, it’s like a sad circle—a catch-22—and that’s what I’ve seen go on. It’s not just about organizing in the community, it’s not just about unlearning belief systems; it’s also unlearning ways of being in ourselves and that takes a lot of work and a lot of that shit nobody wants to look at or bring up again. And I know a lot of people are like, “this thing keeps coming up and I’m blocking it because it’s too scary.” And I think that that’s keeping us isolated and rigid.

carla and Nick: So there’s like a comfort and safety in remaining rigid, skeptical, untrusting?

Kelsey: There is! This whole world is based on fucking misery and to be joyful is scary because it’s kind of unknown. In capitalist systems, we’re not meant to feel joy; I think it’s about domination and power and gaining respect by taking part, but it has nothing to do with joy. Even now, I feel like people judge me for being too positive and too happy; people think I’m way younger than I am often because of my attitude; they’re like “why aren’t you bitter yet?” It’s really interesting because it’s scary to feel new things and not know where they’re going to take you.

carla and Nick: Can we have the expectation of trust up front? Do you think there’s an alternative to the idea that trust always needs to be earned?

Kelsey: It’s so hard in our society: you gotta earn everything; you earn money, you build trust, and respect. You gotta prove to me that I should trust you, or respect you. And that’s an interesting point; I have a tough time with that, trusting people. But I think it’s a feedback system: probably the more you allow yourself to trust people initially, probably the more well-reciprocated that will be. I felt it: you trust me and I didn’t understand it. That’s how fucked up our system is. Even though I didn’t do anything wrong, or to harm you, I didn’t understand how someone could trust me without knowing me first.

Nick and carla: There’s this perception that all this stuff—trust, curiosity, uncertainty, joy—is naïve: if you’re joyful or trusting you probably just don’t understand what’s going on, or how bad things are. And with that, there’s a perception that only people who are super privileged have the capacity to be joyful. How do you think about joyful militancy and trust in relation to privilege and oppression?

Kelsey: I think some of the most joyful people I’ve met are not coming from privileged backgrounds. I don’t think it’s true that only privileged people can be joyful. It’s a blanket statement and it’s also kind of really oppressive and ignorant to say, I think. I think that’s harsh for me to say, but I think that there’s a lot of people and friends that are coming from privileged backgrounds are some of the most rigid people and the most isolated. They don’t feel at ease and they’re not comfortable, they’re guilty. A lot of privilege makes it difficult to learn how to work cooperatively. But I’ve seen the effectiveness and power—I don’t mean power like people who dominate—I mean power like the energy that comes from compassion and love and real collective work and humility. Humility’s such a huge one.

It’s part of our society to discount that all that as naïve. Naïve is inexperience—what is inexperience? It comes from an ageist perspective: you’re young, you only think like this because you’re young; you haven’t experienced enough. Actually some of the youngest people—kids—are often the most connected and able to absorb and create. It is ageist to associate joyfulness with naïveté. Maybe that’s super harsh to say but I think it comes from our society’s idea of what it means to be an adult, a youth, a child. Those systems are in place to keep us fuckin’ stagnant, and to keep kids stagnant and devalued and powerless.

carla and Nick: Yeah that’s a useful way for us to think about it because it’s easy to make all this into another set of norms: “just be this way.” It’s hard to talk about this in other ways, maybe because part of rigid militancy and activist-speak is constantly prescribing behaviors, and it’s easy to hear joyful militancy as another prescription.

Kelsey: Maybe it’s not a prescription, it is a practice … I’m excited because I’ve been having these conversations with friends. I think it’s really awesome that you’re really intentionally introducing this. Because I think probably the amount of work it must have taken you (carla) to just start off trusting people is a fuck-load, probably … and I’m realizing how important it is to share that … once we have something, we can share it with younger folks so that they don’t have to go through the same struggles to get to these points. I feel like what I’m learning is probably at a way earlier stage in my life than when you probably learned it. And I’ll be able to pass that on to the kids in my life when they’re way younger, like four or five, starting to introduce these ideas, and they won’t have to face the same struggles again, and we can go deeper, and it’s exciting.

Kelsey Cham C. is a community organizer and settler of Chinese and Irish descent. Being involved with projects like the Purple Thistle has brought them depth and insight into trying to understand what the hell is going on in the world. Kelsey is focused on organizing experiential learning projects with youth and adults in gardening, mycology, fermentation, and “ki” (chi) based karate.

[selcaby]

So I saw Wish today and … Encanto is going to stay my favourite Disney movie for the foreseeable future.

But I want to talk about the wishes, because I've seen people on here saying that they're lame or vague or just silly. And I kind of agree with that, but I also think it's part of the point.

Take Sabino's wish. He wished to inspire people, apparently with his mandolin playing. We don't know if he wished this when he was 18 or whether he arrived in Rosas later in life and gave up his wish then. But given Magnifico and Amaya don't look very old, I'm guessing they are both older than they look thanks to sorcery, so they could have been ruling since before Sabino was 18. So for the rest of this post I'm going to assume that's the case.

So when Sabino was 18 the dearest wish of his heart was to inspire people with his mandolin playing. And then he gave this wish to Magnifico for safe keeping and forgot all about it. His mandolin's probably been gathering dust for the last 82 years.

Yes, this is an excessively vague wish. But the movie knows that. Magnifico says it: inspire them to do what? And although you can argue he shouldn't use this as a reason not to grant the wish, he's also not wrong.

And this kind of wish? It's the kind I think the creative team would have made themselves. Think about it: they work for Walt Disney Animation Studios, that world-renowned dream factory. I assume they're happy to be there and have passion for the work they do. If you'd asked them at age 18 what they wanted out of life, they'd probably have told you they wanted to be artists, animators, writers, composers ... that they wanted to make art (of some kind, maybe movies, maybe not) that entertained and inspired people. Now imagine someone taking those ambitions away from them, so that they forgot what they even wanted. Would they be making Disney movies now? No, they wouldn't have bothered going to film school or learning animation or whatever they did to get to where they are today. They'd be doing something far less interesting, probably. I imagine them imagining that kind of alternate life and seeing it as a nightmare.

The tragedy of the situation is not that Sabino never had his wish granted. (He still doesn't have it granted in the movie. He just gets to remember what it is.) The tragedy is that by giving it up and forgetting about it, he lost the chance to make it come true by his own efforts. He doesn't regain that chance for another 82 years. That's a long time to live directionless and lacking the drive to be what he once truly wanted. I wonder what he did in the meantime. We know very little about his life, and I do think that's a missed opportunity.

What we got instead was Simon. He's the only one of the teenage posse to be over 18. His friends know that giving his wish to Magnifico changed him, and not for the better. He's become boring (and perpetually sleepy, which might be a sign of depression stemming from his lack of direction in life). His friends don't seem to know what his wish was, but it's not clear whether he just never told them or whether Magnifico's magic made them forget as well. Simon is there to show us what it (theoretically) does to someone when they lose the memory of their wish. I say theoretically because the kingdom still seems to be functioning pretty well, and most people seem unaware of the negative side effects of forgetting one's wish ... but I suppose these things are necessary for the story to work.

This actually reminds me of Delirium by Lauren Oliver, a YA dystopia series where, on reaching adulthood, everyone has a surgical procedure that "cures" them of the ability to love. Afterwards they enter loveless arranged marriages, put in the work to bring up their children purely out of duty, and spend their working lives in jobs they have no passion for, assigned to them by the government. The only people who see anything wrong with this are those who haven't had the procedure yet, or on whom it didn't work. The protagonist is a girl who accepts the system until, not long before she's due to have the procedure, she falls in love. I never finished reading that series, but one thing I liked about it was how it made the effort to show what a society without love could look like and how it could work. Wish could have done with more of that sort of thing.

The woman who has her wish granted? She wants to make the finest clothes in all of Rosas. Since she's going to make them herself, I'm not sure what will make them the finest; does her talent get a magical boost? Isn't that cheating? What's the point of being the best at something if you're not the one doing it? So yeah, I think that wasn't particularly well thought out. They had to show it happening once so we could see what it looked like, but they probably could have picked a better example. (In Encanto, they similarly had to show what it looks like when a child gets a gift the way Mirabel didn't. But they picked a good example: Antonio, who gets the gift of speech with animals, plus a magical room that's a forest full of animals, and who loves this, and immediately makes friends with a bunch of animals who hang out with him for most of the rest of the movie, and spends his time trying to use his gift in ways that might help people, including in ways that affect the plot. For example, his gift is the reason why the rats can rat out Bruno.)

Remember, the wishes don't all get granted at the end. Mainly, people get their wishes returned to them, so they can remember what they were and do their best to make them come true, if they still want to and still can. The queen doesn't grant that woman's wish to fly, but she does introduce her to a man who dreams of building flying machines.

And so what if they're the dorky wishes of teenagers? That's also part of the point. Without their wishes, everyone's development is arrested.

I could complain about how someone really should have seen the problem with this before Asha did, but I need to get off the internet and have dinner. This post is already longer and ramblier than I intended, but never mind; right now I wish for some food, and I'd better make it happen and not forget about it.

[mountain-lion-gremlin]

So yes, im coming up on the end of my detox. During this time, ive actually learned a LOT because simply, im not glued to my phone 24/7.

Society pushes this idea that we NEED phones. That without your portable dopamine box you arent cool, or normal, or whatever the hell they choose to say.

Ive found clarity in my life. Ive focused more on my witchcraft and learning the craft itself. Ive danced in the rain and felt the rhythm of the earth, its heart beating beneath my feet. Ive started to learn Finnish even better than before, and my studies on homework have become so much easier because im not as distracted.

If it was up to me, i would never go back to being glued to my dopamine box. But...

If anyone who is following me and knows of my Amino, Ive been gone from it for awhile now. I worry that certain rules arent being enforced, or its becoming a hateful place. I left it in the hands of my staff, of course, but i still worry...

But regardless, Ill see if I can get an app that allows me to run mobile apps on my computer. I dont want to go back to using my phone unless i have to.

(Keep reading if you wanna see what I have to say about shapeshifting and stuff. I dont want this post to be eons of scrolling to those who dont want to read about it.)

Now, onto the important stuff that people might be asking me.

"Rio, did you fully m-shift and achieve your goals of shifting???" Well... no. Sadly.

Life has been really hectic, so Ive been focusing on the important, human stuff in my life, and have been struggling with balancing the important, animal stuff in my life. Im not going to lie, its easier to do now than it was before, but I still have to put effort into it.

With p-shifting, well... recently Ive been reading a lot of hate on p-shifting in general, how its wrong, how much actual stigma surrounds it, and im in a ditch when it comes to believing it will actually happen. Ive watered down my beliefs so many times for others online recently, that im questioning that they are true.

I know that they arent true. But, I know for a fact that even if I never p-shift, I will still be happy being who I am. Its a constant itch, and constant scratch to be who I really am, but I honestly believe that even if I never do p-shift, I will never stop being here, being a shifter and being happy.

In the end thats all its really about, seriously. Arent we just trying to be happy with ourselves, our identity, our lives? It hurts to even go a step outside of the shifting community, and see hours and hours of people talking about how horrible it is, how manipulative, how impossible it is. It makes me want to hide again in my little bubble and forget I ever saw it.

But it brings a sort of... clarity I guess? Many people who have never been apart of the community or have even ventured in will say "its impossible to do".

People who have been hurt, or have seen the hurt caused by misinformation and misguidance of shapeshifting will almost always say "p-shifting is manipulative, horrible, the people within it are blah blah blah blah blah...."

People who are apart of it but havent p-shifted will say "Ive seen so many success stories, Ive even seen my own progress with it and im really happy" And people who have shifted... well they either disappear quite quickly, or their stories are lost to deaf ears.

And after years and years of feeling like I have to fight against these people, show how I am, show the truth and understand it all... I feel domesticated by the reality that is always, constantly shoved in my face.

Nobody cares. Im trapped within society and I cant escape. I will never be free. I will never, ever be my animal. I am delusional for even believing it.

vitut.

I know that currently in my life, I am where I am. I cannot change it, because I am not old enough to. I know that I have and must make do with what I have, instead of wishing for things I do not have. Cougars are adaptable, we are survivors and change with our enviornment.

There will ALWAYS be time to be who I am. There will always be chance after chance after chance for me, I just have to grab it.

And ive noticed that I no longer have to force every single m-shift. It feels like just thinking about it, about mountain lions causes a shift. Ive gotten so comfortable in my living situation ive been vocalizing as my animal, jumping around on all fours and feeling like my animal.

Sometimes I worry that Ive become so obsessed with trying to m-shift that Ive forgotten that theres still more beyond it. While writing this post, I feel... excited for my future. I feel like p-shifting can happen to me. I feel like I am almost close to permanently m-shifting.

And let me tell you a little secret about m-shifting.

(There is no trigger for when you permanently m-shift. There is no way to actually know by just reading what others say it feels like. There is no actual way to do it.)

Permanently m-shifting to me, simply feels like a comfortableness with my animal. It feels safe, and okay to be who I am. And personally for me, after years of m-shifting, trust is what has brought me to where I am. (This might not be the case for everyone lol, figure out whats going on with yourself instead of using what I say to be the end all for you and your problems!) I was honestly afraid of my other side. That it was dangerous, wild, would hurt someone. I was also afraid that I would never actually get here and do this, because my mental shifts arent as strong or frequent as others. I was also afraid that it wouldnt work. So, so afraid that I would mess up and fail.

But I've learnt that... I am in control of myself. And being an animal IS myself. I have the control to be safe, and not harm others. We all do. Its an idea that has been presented to us through media, stigma, ableism and society itself. We always talk of people "losing control" or "flying off the handle". Werewolves are seen as beings who will rip your face off if they get mad.

We arent like that, you know that, right? I had to trust that I would be in control of my m-shifts. And even if my control has slipped, (such as when I had an m-flare in the middle of gym class) I was able to quickly recover because it wasnt appropriate at school to start running on all fours and hiding beneath the bleachers.

Ive also learnt that no, you cannot fail while m-shifting. There is no right or wrong way to m-shift. There is no way to fail an m-shift. M-shifting is just allowing yourself to be more animal-like, allowing your animal to be safe and comfortable with itself. Its complicated to explain the connection between our animal selves, and our human selves, but the most basic (not too accurate) way to explain it is that we are each other. You are your animal, and your animal is you. As you m-shift more this makes more sense, and you find your own meaning to what your connection, and your animal's connection is.

Regardless, even if I took breaks. Even if I wasnt dedicated, or spent all of my time m-shifting. I still am getting closer. What matters is the fact that you still care about it, and will do it when you can. Its unrealistic to believe someone could constantly be m-shifting actively, most circumstances make it very hard to do so. (Especially mine. I have divorced houses, 2 AP classes im taking, problematic siblings, responsibilities...)

It feels like learning a new language in a sense. Like, to m-shift is to constantly m-shift. To learn a new language is to constantly immerse yourself in it. Well... we cant really do that, so instead we go with short bursts of doing this, with interspersed passive learning, or attempting to m-shift when we can.

And nobody is barred from m-shifting. Let me let you know. NOBODY IS BARRED FROM M-SHIFTING!! Some people I know feel stuck, like they cannot m-shift. That its only involuntary. Listen. Listen listen listen.

There are many different ways to m-shift. So many!! Lots of people say "I cant meditate, and so ill never m-shift." Thats NOT true. Thats not true. I literally cant meditate lol.

And its not really attempting to voluntarily force a shift using triggers and stuff. I just think about it and try to feel more immersed in my senses, allow my perspective of life to shift more animal-like. AND, m-shifts do NOT have to be large, explosive things that change your whole reality and how you think and you want to crawl on all fours and you feel yourself p-shifting and fur-

Nah nah nah. Most shifts people will experience, at least how i know it, will be small, tiny shifts that you most likely wont notice unless you pay attention to it. Even if you arent trying to m-shift in the moment, even thinking about it may cause you to fall into a light shift. You do not need to have very impactful m-shifts to m-shift.

And I wont lie, my friend @dakotathewolf has helped me a lot, even with the endless ramblings on both ends (lol) I feel like we have both grown as people and understand more because of what we have taught each other.

I hope this helps you, dakota, along with anyone else who needs it.

[tropes-and-tales]

Angels in Disguise, Part IV

CW:  Heavy angst; talk of serious injuries and death; talk of suicide, trauma, and PTSD.

Word Count:  2238

AN:  Part of a miniseries.  Other pieces can be found here.

For the first time since you were small, you don’t have much to worry about.

No tireless pursuit of perfect grades to get into the top college to graduate with honors to become a veterinarian to start your own practice to save the lives of sick and injured animals.  You’ve been marching that narrow path for years now.  

Now you have no obligations.  No decisions to make.

Your days in the center are laid out for you.  Wake up by 8.  Breakfast.  Jog around the track or take tai chi. Morning therapy.  Lunch.  Art therapy.  Individual therapy.  Dinner.  Bed.  Repeat the next day.

The only variability is the weekends.  Sometimes the week’s therapy stirs up so much shit, you go for longer jogs until your shirt is soaked with sweat and your legs burn.  Sometimes you have a breakthrough and you coast on that tranquil feeling.  Days like that, you like to camp out in the bright, airy art room and work on your watercolors—just blobs of bleeding color, but there’s something soothing about putting brushes to the pleasingly thick paper.

Weekends mean visits too.  Your mother, usually, because your father finds the prospect of suicide distasteful and limits his communication to terse phone calls commanding you to get well.  Your sisters visit too, but only once.  They have their own lives—spouses, kids, jobs.

It’s a weekend, and your mom visits as usual.  The two of you sit outside, and she chatters about everything and nothing at all.  What your nieces and nephews are up to with their various sports and activities.  What the new neighbors did with their landscaping.  How your father’s cholesterol is down.

Frivolous stuff.  Your family has always shied away from the difficult conversations, which is at least partially how you wound up here.

Your mom takes her usual tact, which is to avoid the uncomfortable bits of your conversation until she’s standing up and halfway out the door.

“I was going to tell you,” she starts, and you recognize the way her eyes slide away from your own to fixate on something in the middle distance.  “We had a policeman come to the house last week.  He was asking about…well….you know.”

That day on Alameda.  The day you stepped into hell, like some doomed asshole from a Greek myth.

“What’d he want?”

“I guess that policeman you helped…he recovered.  He was looking for you.”

Your stomach twists into a knot.  You swallow hard against the sudden tightness in your throat—a motion your mother misses because she’s not looking at you.

“Did he say why he was looking for me?” you ask, and your mom sighs and finally looks at you.  She reaches out to cup your face, hold you steady as she presses a kiss to your cheek.

“He probably just wants to thank you, sweetie,” she says.  “I told the first policeman that the one you helped can call us.  He might want to talk to you.  He might even want to visit you.”  

She pats your face gently, then adds, “but only if you’re up for it, sweetie.  Maybe it’d be better to leave that day in the past, where it belongs.”

-----

Isn’t that part of why you’re here?  The family dynamic of burying the bad things so deep that they never see the light of day?

It didn’t take much digging in therapy to learn that the bury-and-forget method of dealing with bad shit doesn’t work for you.  You put in a noble effort for years, but it all blew up on Alameda.

You can’t bury that sort of moment.  In the days that followed, you tried—but it refused to stay buried.  It crept up in your dreams, which turned into screaming, waking nightmares.

It crept up in your waking hours.  The sight of blood made your mouth flood with saliva before you invariably threw up.  The smell of food, the act of eating made you sick.  Anywhere big and wide-open, anywhere with too many people made your skin prickle in fear.

You stopped eating.  You stopped sleeping.  You became a hollowed-out wraith, and then you…did what you did.  Which is the oblique way your family refers to your suicide attempt.

You know your mom means well, but maybe you should meet up with the cop from that day.  No one in your life knows what it was like on Alameda, but he does.  He was there.  Maybe he knows what it’s like to struggle like you’ve been struggling.

At the very least, maybe it’ll give you a bit of peace, seeing the man alive and well.  Seeing that you did at least one good thing, keeping him alive until the paramedics came.

-----

Your mom is the one who sets it up.  The man—his name is Ben—wants to visit if you’re okay with it.  After you talk through your feelings in group therapy (and make a terrible watercolor as you contemplate it), you decide that yes, you are okay with it.

-----

The man’s face—Ben’s face—is etched in your nightmares, but you don’t recognize him at first when you see him in the reception area.  

For one thing, he’s upright and not covered in blood.

For another thing, his face goes from a stoical, unsmiling sort of expression to grinning so broadly that his eyes almost squint shut.  It’s like the sun breaking through the clouds, and it makes you feel amazing, seeing him smile like that because he sees you.  Recognizes you.

He stands up, and the motion is a little lurching.  You remember the injury to his leg, and that might be enough to push you into the shadowy ruminating you do, but he makes his way over to where you stand, and you have no time to wallow.

He says your name, a slight questioning inflection at the end of it.  You nod, and you feel exposed suddenly. Shy.  His gaze is unblinking, heavy as he stares at you.  

“I wasn’t even sure you were real for a while there,” he tells you.  His voice is softer than you would have guessed.  “But I’m glad I finally found you.”

You’re not sure what to say to that.  You’ve never been great at social interactions with strangers.  Small talk paralyzes you, let alone a moment like this, more fraught with your shared history.  

You ignore his comment.  Instead, you tilt your head towards the door and ask, “do you want to go outside?”

*****

Benny’s first thought is:  there she is.  Finally.

His second thought is:  she looks like she’s in prison.

He wonders if the in-patient facility provides the clothing.  You’re in shapeless grey pants, a dark navy t-shirt and zip-up.  Slip-on sneakers like the kind his elderly grandpa used to wear, like the kind they give at-risk inmates who might use shoelaces to hang themselves.  You look a lot like a woman booked on an overnight stay in county.  Tired but resolute.  Nervous but tenacious.  Ready to get out but realistic about your prospects on the outside.

It’s awkward at first.  What do people like the two of you say to each other?  You staunched the bleeding when his neck was torn open by a bullet.  Hardly seems worth the effort to talk about the weather with you.  But he’s never said a word to you until now, and he can’t just launch into the deep shit.  Can’t ask you about the shadow you live under, and if it’s the same as his own.

He certainly can’t ask you if you felt anything that day on Alameda.  If you feel anything now.  For him.  If you have any mad, stupid thoughts about soulmates.

Because even as the two of you walk outside in silence, around the back of the complex where a handful of benches are set under some trees, Benny is certain there’s something there with you.  He can’t explain it.  He can’t even put it into words in his own head.  He just knows that you’re it for him, that the moment on Alameda was fate, and this moment is a continuation of that same shared destiny.

The awkwardness bleeds off fast, once the two of you settle onto a bench.  You turn and look at him, a shy smile on your face, and he thanks you.  Finally.

“I wanted to thank you,” he says.  “You saved my life that day.  If you hadn’t been there…”  He trails off, lets the rest go unsaid.

You shrug as if it’s not a big deal what you did for him, but then you gesture to his neck.

“It looks like it’s healed up pretty well,” you offer.

“It is.”

Another shy smile.  “It went right through the middle of your tattoo there.”

He returns your smile with his own.  “I got that tattoo when I was younger.  I thought it made me look like a bad-ass.”

You laugh quietly.  “The only thing more bad-ass than a neck tattoo is a bullet hole through a neck tattoo.  That’s got to be, what?  Bad-assery times two.  Bad-ass-squared.”

He chuckles too, and you ask about his leg, his elbow.  He gives you the rundown on all of his injuries—he’d gotten a concussion that day too—and he talks a bit about his recovery.  He skirts around the mental stuff; the day is too sunny, too perfect to bring that up.  Each moment that passes bleeds off more of the awkwardness, and his visit flies by like it is minutes, not an hour.

The awkwardness appears against just as he’s leaving, just for a second.  Neither of you know how to part, so you stick your hand out to shake.  He takes it, but then he asks, “would it be okay if I hugged you?”

You blink in surprise, then nod, and it’s awkward for all of a breath before it feels natural.  Like second nature.  Like you fit together perfectly, which you do:  he wraps his arms around you carefully, gently, and you slide your own arms around his middle.

It seems paltry, his earlier thanks, so he mutters it again now, right against your ear.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice low.  “You saved my life.”

You respond by squeezing him a little tighter.  He holds you as long as he thinks is polite, but when he goes to release you, he hears it—a quiet sniffle.  Then he feels it, the almost-imperceptible trembling.  It’s faint, but he feels it.

You’re crying.  It’s quiet, like you’re trying not to, but it slams him back in that moment on Alameda, the last time he saw you:  kneeling in the street, weeping.

Benny Magalon is largely unflappable, and he keeps his own emotions well in check, but he starts to tear up too.  Everything about the last few months hits him all at once:  the gunfight, the hospital, his lonely recovery.  Losing his career.  His depression.  The dark thoughts.

He starts to cry too.  It’d shame the old him, the him that existed before the shootout with Merrimen, but he doesn’t feel an ounce of shame now—not with you here, the two of you holding the other up.

“S-sorry,” you manage to choke out against him.  “I swore I wouldn’t cry, b-but….fuck, I’m still a mess.  Sorry—”

“Not a mess.  Not at all.  You’ve been through it,” he replies shakily, cutting you off.  

“We both have.”  You squeeze him tighter.  “Both of us.”

-----

The second time he goes to leave, once you’ve both cried and then dried your tears, then did the whole embarrassed-laugh, wave-off-the-big-feelings-with-jokes thing, he turns to you.  Hesitates for a beat, then asks, “you think I could visit again?”

You shake your head but pair it with a smile.  “I’m getting out the week after next.  Next weekend is a family therapy thing, so no visits then.”

“Oh.”  He schools his face, hopes the disappointment isn’t blatant.

“Maybe you could call instead?  I get my cell phone back for thirty minutes each evening.”

Just like that, the hope resurfaces.  “Yeah, I’d like that.”

He swears he sees the same hope reflected on your face, in your soft smile.  The same anticipation of something good coming out of this entire sad situation.  Benny wonders if your stomach is playing hell like his is, the fluttery feeling of possibilities.  

“Between seven and seven-thirty each night, okay?” you say.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he replies.

“Don’t stand me up, Officer,” you warn, a playful lilt he’s never heard from you before.  “I need all the news of the world.  I’m pretty secluded in here.”

“Yes, ma’am.  But I’m not an officer anymore.”  He doesn’t bother to clarify that he was never really an officer—he went from a deputy to a detective to a medically-retired pensioner.  “I’m just Benny.”

You gaze at him, but this time there’s no bashfulness that he can see.  You’re looking at him like you’re really seeing him, and he wonders what you’re thinking.  What conclusions you may be drawing about him.

He doesn’t have to wait long to find out.

“I’m really glad you visited,” you tell him, and there’s a hint of wonder in your voice, like you’re surprised by how your day has turned out. 

He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, suddenly self-conscious.  “Me too.  I’ll talk to you soon.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Benny.”

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #44

So… the relief from using the Backpod was very temporary. Fortunately though, the relief appears to be reproducible, because I used it again today and ended up with the same results, so there's that much at least!

In celebration, I made a cup of the biscuit-flavored tea. Although it does taste faintly like Biscoff cookies (these are very good!), the fact remains that the flavor is indeed faint, so it mostly just tasted like regular tea. That's certainly not a bad thing, haha! But I guess I was hoping for something a little more unusual, and I was a little disappointed when it didn't pan out that way.

But that's okay! These things happen sometimes! Things can't always work out in the ways we expect! A little bit of disappointment is part of everyday living, and if you can accept that and make peace with it, then it becomes something that isn't emotionally debilitating; we can't have things go our way and get everything right all the time - it'd be too weird, and probably pretty boring eventually anyways!

So rather than ruminate over it, I simply made myself a mug of the jam-on-toast tea after I finished the biscuit tea!! And as promised, this time, I remembered to take some pictures!! Here!!

This is the way it looked before I added milk and sugar! It's got a reddish tint to it; I wonder if that comes from whatever they use to make it taste like jam.

Here's how it looked after I added milk and sugar! It really only needs a little bit of each! Today I discovered though that it tastes a little better with honey than it does with sugar.

I wanted the fact that it didn't hurt to breathe after using the Backpod to persist today, because it's very, VERY nice when breathing doesn't hurt. So for the most part, I stayed relatively still today, because I didn't wanna move too much and end up having things come back out of place again. I think my efforts mostly worked.

I passed the time by playing Pokemon Scarlet, and that was quite nice. I managed to stay properly hydrated today, too. As a result, the inside of my mind is cheerfully neutral, leaning maybe a little towards placidly hopeful and vaguely looking forward to things. The texture and shape of it comes in the colors of this melody; maybe you'll like it:

Within the next few days, there is a soup event at the place that I like to go to. A bunch of people will make soup and then share it with everyone else. So I thought to try my hand at making pumpkin soup; I know you wished you could try some before, when you were at the Halloween place with Glenn. I really wish that I could make some and then give it to you. Alas, I cannot. So instead I will make it for all the kind folks at the place; in the absence of having the ability to warm up your heart and mind with a hot, delicious, hearty soup, I will instead try to do the same for other people.

…Actually, there are a lot of wholesome things that I try to do for other people, because I cannot do them for you; I am always trying to treat the people around me with the same kindness and care that I would treat you with, if you were nearby. To be sure, it doesn't always work out, because I'm only human, and a very awkward and clumsy example of one, at that. But all the same, I do my best to hold myself accountable for my mistakes and to try to learn to be better when I fall short; I can only hope that it's enough, though admittedly, it never really feels like it is. Oh well. Maybe all this effort will be worth something in the next life. And if not… well, that's okay too. I'll decide to believe that it's still worth something, even if the best I can do is leave my immediate surroundings a little better off than when I found it.

In any case, tomorrow, I'll see about gathering the required ingredients for the soup. In the meantime, I guess I should try to decide on a recipe to follow. All of the ones that I've seen so far call for broth of some kind as a base; I'm super duper glad that I saved some of the chicken bone broth I made previously in the freezer; it'll really come in handy, and it's flavorful and very nutritious besides!! Any soup made with a homemade broth base should be at least pretty good, right? So I'll try to create something that even you could be proud of!

I don't know what sorts of things you get up to at the Edge of Creation, but whatever you do, please try to stay safe; you'll never get to try anybody's pumpkin soup if you do something reckless and end up disappearing. Take good care of yourself. Treat yourself kindly. Use the knowledge that you're loved and cared for to muster up the strength and courage to make gentle, loving choices.

I'll write to you tomorrow about my grocery store adventures! Look forward to it!!

Your friend, Lumine

[lumiereandcogsworth]

sorry if this isn't something you're interested in discussing/getting asks about but i just saw a poll about "most disappointing moments in disney movies" and "the super cool beast turning into a boring human" was one of the most chosen options and i just hate when people complain about the BATB ending adsjkfsg 😭 like this is a fairy tale, metaphorically it's about the transformative power of learning to selflessly love another, and literally it's about the fact that adam did not choose to become a beast, he was cursed and forcibly ostracized from society, of course he wants to be human again?? i'd get if it was just people not liking his design, as iirc even the directors of the original animated film admitted to not putting a lot of effort into it, but i never see people do redesigns of a human version they'd like better, i just see them complain and say he should've stayed a beast because he was cooler that way or whatever. and i never felt that way even as a little kid so yeah i guess i just wanted to vent about it a bit lol. anyway i love your blog!!

AMEN BROTHER!!!!!! i am always interested in discussing this. adam is my favorite character in the universe and the way people treat him drives me insane!

i FULLY agree with you and i am appalled at that poll option. genuinely how is it so hard to understand?? if y’all want a movie about a beast guy learning to love his beast self, i believe the movie you’re looking for is dreamwork’s SHREK, lmao. the point of adam’s story is that he was learning a lesson in vanity and cruelty. he was being punished. the enchantress saw how much of a monster he had become so she made him look like one and took away his beautiful appearance — the thing he prided himself on the most. it’s a PUNISHMENT! he’s in BODY JAIL! why on EARTH would he want to stay that way!!!!

i say this every time but: no matter how comfortable belle makes him feel in his own skin, that is NOT the way he wants to live the rest of his life. it’s not who he is! he was born a human and he lived a human life for a while before this curse happened! and now he’s got this second chance… he’s learning how to love… obviously he’d become even more desperate to be human again! he wants a normal life with belle now! *shaking violently* why must we strip him of his humanity!!!!!!!

[devildompossum]

Ok so things we know

1. In the og game each of the brothers represents the seven lords in tsl, which was likely written by Simon in an attempt to process the war and the loss of lucifer and the brothers

2. MC often takes the place of Henry, mostly by Levi but I'm sure I could find it in events if I felt like looking rn

3. Events happening in nightbringer seem to imply a direct correlation between the past and the present, like mc suggesting lucifer hide the credit card in the freezer from mammon

4. Simon HASNT written tsl in nughtbringer. This is mostly implied by Levi not knowing what it is when you get transported into the story, so I guess you could also argue that he just hasn't found the series yet, but I doubt Simon would have written any sizeable chunk of a book series that close to his own trauma after only a year since the fall

So there's a decent argument to be made for mc being at least partially the inspiration for Henry in the same way the brothers were the inspiration for the lords. Which, especially with Levi, is pretty beautiful when you think about it.

Like ok. So you have to live with this random person and you hate being around people let alone strangers. And yeah maybe you're a bit more antagonistic than you need to be, but you're so used to people being negative about your interests (and maybe you have a self loathing problem). But then this stranger goes through a huge amount of effort trying to learn about your favorite series to gain your friendship and it becomes something that ties you two together. (And yes maybe it was part of a ploy, and you will be mad at them later but you'll also forgive them later). They become your best friend, your Henry, your everything just like the book. You complain together, rewatch the movies and point out where the books were better together, your relationship isn't Just based on the book but it is an important part.

But then they get sent to the past, to a time no one likes to talk about, when you and your brothers are filled with so much grief and pain and still struggling to adjust to the darkness. To a time when you hurt, so bad. When you didn't know who you were and didn't have any friends and desperately needed one. And you meet again and become friends. And it's slower going this time around, but they know exactly what to say to make you feel better and they introduce you to new shows and don't roll their eyes when you talk about the things you like that you're just now discovering. And someone from your past sees that, someone who it still hurts to think about much less see again so soon. And that someone, who is dealing with his own grief and pain and hurts just as much seeing you again, sees your growing friendship and it inspires part of his novel. The main character takes shape in his mind watching you and your friend, and he writes the perfect outsider to a group of struggling brothers who love eachother but don't know how to express it. And he writes a novel (and another and another and another) and publishes it a world away from both of you under a pen name.

And years down the line, after you've found the book series unknowingly based on your family and become utterly obsessed with it and memorized every trivia piece and collected all the merch, a random stranger moves into your house.