#another way to seem more creditable i presume

[rslashrats]

a dancing banana headcanon i have is that he purposefully makes himself seem older than he actually is to make himself seem more trustworthy and to see less likely to be the one behind the crimes he committed.

think about it. a random banana suddenly popping up as a founder and ceo of a company that has a gameshow and whole entire theme park is a bit suspicious, no? so, what if he just pretends it’s older than it actually is?

giving off the impression his success was something he worked tirelessly for, not sometime that suspiciously sprouted up overnight. editing photos of himself to be black and white to make it look like they were taken before photography in color was as common as it is now. adding details in his backstory of him knowing mark twain and somehow having a bootlegging business, since those happened way in the past, even if the timelines of those two don’t line up?

he obviously made a bunch of mistakes in it, though, leaving in a roblox innovation award from 2023 in one of the photos, and including weird al as also being an equal part of his childhood as mark twain and bootlegging. but still, it seems to have been enough to convince the majority of people in-universe to work. nobody suspects a thing!

… and that’s the way he would like to keep it!

[atrueneutral]

'Husband' & 'Wife' Part II (Raphael x Tav)

There's smut in this. [Part I] --- She stared at him.

And he stared at her - waiting for her to strip.

“Is there a problem?” Raphael inquired with faux innocence and a raise of his brow.

Well, no… and yes.

It was neither the act of stripping nor the thought of actually being naked in front of the cambion that delayed her from enacting the first half of her bargain; it was the fact that they had appeared in the entrance hall - and it wasn’t empty.

To their credit, half of the debtors paid them no mind because they had no mind left; they shuffled around in despair, mumbling to themselves whilst the other (seemingly-more-lucid) debtors silently worked on their hands and knees to clean the marble floor with rags and a bucket of water.

Also to their (and Raphael’s) credit, they were clothed.

Suddenly her poor-decision-of-an-offer to clean his House naked became just that: a poor decision.

Another poor decision to add to her List of Regrets…

The List was never to be revealed to anyone, and therefore Raphael would never know how many times his name was mentioned; what he did need to know was that she was a woman of her word (most of the time), and she would, in-fact, clean his house naked for eight hours if need be.

(What-in-the-devil possessed her to say eight hours? Of all the hours! Why not five? Or even two?

One would have sufficed, surely…)

“No, there’s no problem,” she said sweetly, holding eye contact as she began to undo her belts. “It is rather toasty in here…”

His intense, heated gaze wasn’t helping.

Not in the mood to entreat Raphael or the debtors to a striptease, her belts were casually discarded to the floor. Footwear was next in line to be removed, but because her boots did not simply slip off, it became mildly embarrassing as she balanced on one leg at a time and wrestled each foot from imprisonment - all with Raphael watching with crossed arms and the hint of a smirk. Tav smirked, too, albeit with slight sarcasm once she dumped the second boot, and she swiftly moved on to pulling down breeches and smallclothes in one go. She stepped out of the puddle of garments whilst lifting her tunic from over her head, and the pile continued to grow with the added shedding of her brassiere.

All that was left-

“Leave your footwraps,” Raphael commanded, reading her intention of going for the strips of cloth around her feet. He inspected her as Tav straightened to shamelessly stand beside her shorn gear. His brown eyes were unapologetic in their scrutiny, and both she and her arousal unapologetically liked the way the cambion slowly burned a path from her face, down the column of her neck to drink in the sight of her breasts and hardened nipples. Further netherwards they went, trailing along her waist, hips, and thighs to magnetically settle on her sex. “I married well, it seems. You are exquisite. Haarlep does not do you justice - in more ways than one, I’m sure.”

Heat tinged her cheeks (the cheeks of her face, though her other cheeks were warmed from the temperature within the House), and Tav mentally reproached herself; this scenario was leading to danger, which was not good seeing as how the last time she stripped naked in front of a fiend…

“I’m very flattered you think so, husband,” she said with a pinch of haughtiness. “I presume my eight hours has officially begun? Where am I to begin cleaning? It looks as if this hall has been taken care of.”

“You will be cleaning the Archive. You know the way I believe?” Raphael dramatically gestured for her to take the lead down the hall. “After you, my dear.”

Tav stuck her nose in the air and airily began to guide them down the steps and through the passage that led to the dining hall.

“I can’t help but notice that you have yet to thank me for coming to your coin purse's rescue,” Raphael remarked behind her.

“You will get your thanks when I have the breastplate in hand,” Tav replied. “Besides, if anyone should be thanking anyone, you should be thanking me for my offer to do this - let alone in a state of undress.”

“Mm, you are quite right, Little Mouse…” said the cat, his voice dipping into a purr. “Thank you.”

She refrained from glaring at him; there was no-doubt that Raphael was appreciating the view of her assets as they moved through the dining hall and towards the Archive. The loitering debtors strategically fled or turned their backs at their approach, and Tav tried not to pay attention to the worrisome amount of wispy, spectral souls that skimmed through the air overhead.

Thankfully, for this visit, there was no need for her thieves’ tools; the doors to the Archive were open for visitors, allowing her to head straight for the expansive room she had at one time browsed all by her lonesome. During that uninvited drop in of Raphael’s treasures, the Archivist had annoyingly hovered over her shoulder (even after she successfully persuaded him that she was Someone Important), and, by the looks of things, the very same Archivist still had a job.

Not bothering to cover up, Tav stopped a number of feet away from the snobbish servant.

“If it isn’t Verillius Receptor,” the Archivist said snidely after getting over the initial surprise of her nudity. He then smoothed down his hostility once he saw who it was who followed behind and he bowed. “Oh, and my lord!”

“You are not needed - begone,” Raphael ordered in greeting.

Unable to help herself, Tav discounted the Archivist’s presence as she gave Raphael a simpering smile, “I look forward to seeing your treasures up close, husband.”

At the moment of leaving her, she regretted the way her words could be misconstrued as innuendo. Nothing lost on him, her ‘spouse’s’ eyes glinted with amusement - and more.

The ability to sputter like a goldfish was passed from her to the Archivist; his mouth opened and closed as his eyes flicked from her to his lord - confusion apparent. Panic then sprouted, for his delay caused a change in demeanor from Raphael and the servant hastily bowed again before scampering off.

“Close the doors behind you,” added the master of the House.

The Archivist obediently obliged, and the set of doors shut at his exit.

Wanting to avoid Raphael’s stare, Tav appraised the items that sat behind impervious shields. The Amulet of Greater Health and the Gauntlets of Hill Giant Strength remained on their marble pedestals, but the center pedestal was empty of any item or any contract belonging to a specific person.

Raphael stepped closer. “I’ve yet to find anything to match the significance of what was there.”

“Yes, the contract of your Crown’s courier,” Tav answered. She rotated to face him, and her heart stuttered; Raphael was closer than expected - well within arm’s reach. “Congratulations, by the way. As I understand it, you’ve achieved a number of victories since gaining the object of your heart’s desire.”

“Yes, but, as is natural when a desire is fulfilled, another must take its place.” His eyes drifted to her lips, and the rapid beating in her chest hurt. “Would you like to know my latest heart’s desire, Little Mouse?”

“Please share - unless you’d like me to find out through the reading of your diaries.”

His expression turned calculating at the recounting of her indiscretion, and Raphael invaded her space further with a single step, his head leaning in for her ear as he had earlier in the armor shop. A chill coursed through her when the back of a finger ghosted along her arm. “It’s my heart’s desire that each pedestal be cleaned to pristine perfection.”

He pulled his smirking (and stupid) handsome face away, and Tav quelled her own heart’s desire to punch it.

Snap!

At their feet, a bucket of sudsy water and a number of rags appeared from a plume of smoke and embers.

“Be sure to do a better job than the debtors - I’d hate to have to punish my wife.”

Tav internally fumed; he thought to lord himself over her? When there is no contract between them? She could win right here and right now; she could forget the breastplate! She could leave - leaving Raphael a thousand gold short with a breastplate he didn’t need or want, and with the remnants of a bargain to be made between him and the dwarven shop owner!

Tav mentally burned the List of Regrets (to avoid adding her next decision to it).

Oh, she’ll show him! She’ll make him beg!

“I’d hate to be disobedient.” She smiled demurely as she gracefully lowered to a crouch while looking at him. Her head came to be at the level of his crotch as she picked up the rags and then the handle of the bucket with the same hand. Her eyes fell from his face to consider what lay beyond the fabric of his breeches, and Tav caught a sliver of her lower lip between her teeth.

She rose without a second glance to the cambion and swayed her hips on her way over to the first exhibit displaying the Amulet of Greater Healing.

Raphael prowled after her.

“Oh, does my lord husband have nothing better to do than to watch his wife clean?” Tav asked as she stepped up the few stairs. She set the bucket down on the top step, just shy of the pedestal’s base.

“Past experience has told me that I can trust none else in this House to see to it that a mouse doesn’t get into mischief,” Raphael answered, landing at the foot of the stairs and effectively blocking her path from leaving the golden, fenced-in enclosure in which she stood.

“I’m sure the mouse meant no harm in seeing where the cat - no, pardon me, the fox - conducts his business.” Again she crouched, and Tav stuck out her backside as she grabbed a rag and dunked it into the foamy water. The rag was rinsed of any excess before she arranged herself to begin.

“Had there been harm, the mouse would have suffered for it.”

“Duly noted.”

She would clean to the best of her abilities, and she would do it whilst posing in the most provocative manner possible. Currently, this meant placing herself beside the pedestal - her position remaining low as she spread her legs and hovered above the floor on the balls of her feet, giving pedestal and floor an eyeful of her sex.

Nothing for Raphael, of whom she did not bother to acknowledge while ‘focusing’ on her task.

Hand and rag slowly moved up the smooth, arched portion of the pedestal before making its way back down again, wiping the marble of any accumulated dust and grime. When it came to more ‘stubborn areas’, Tav decided to add a bounce to her body in rhythm to her vigorous scrubbing.

“What are you doing, Little Mouse?” Raphael inquired with a substantial drop in his pitch.

“I’m cleaning in the nude - per the terms of our agreement,” Tav said pleasantly, moving to re-dunk her rag.

“Do you typically clean in this manner?”

“No, I typically clean with clothes on.”

“You know my meaning.”

Tav shifted the bucket over and threw a smirk over her shoulder as she once more sunk down and spread her legs - providing the front of the pedestal en eyeful of her front and the cambion a nice picture of all that her backside had to offer. “No, Raphael, I’m afraid I don’t know your meaning.”

“Then let me speak plainly - do you typically clean as if there were a cock beneath you?”

With the bucket slightly out of reach, and because she hadn’t rinsed her rag fully, Tav squeezed a nominal amount of water from the cloth, providing Raphael the illusion that her sex was soaked to the point of dripping.

“Not typically.”

She heard a low growl behind her, which pleased her to hear in more ways than one as she progressed on in her cleaning of the pedestal’s surface. After a handful of minutes, Tav got to her feet to return to the bucket but was stopped by a new directive.

“Move on to cleaning the center pedestal.”

The roughness of his voice drew her attention, and Tav knew she was doomed to live out her fantasies - if not solely due to the look Raphael was giving her; his eyes were dark and glazed over with want, and he gripped the stiffened outline of his cock through his breeches.

The devil was unraveling - because of her.

Tav grabbed her rag and bucket to then sidle up to him.

“Do you typically get aroused while watching debtors clean, Raphael? I wouldn’t put it past you,” she murmured whilst glancing from his eyes to his parted lips - the top of which was frozen in a partial curl.

“Only when watching you,” he replied huskily.

Tav tightened her hold on the bucket handle, lest it slip from her fingers and she make a genuine mess. The urge to kiss and taste that mouth of his was churning within, but she could not give in per the rules she created; he must bend and break first.

“I see.” She smiled as she stepped past him, and Raphael trailed after her to the center enclosure where the empty pedestal awaited to be cleaned.

Tav was at the top step when she paused and thought better of the placement of her bucket. She pivoted and slowly strutted back over to Raphael, who, yet again, acted as a guard to the section’s entrance and exit. The bucket was gently set down to the side, and she half-kneeled before him while she drowned her rag within water. With her eyes on that-which-couldn’t-be-ignored, Raphael capitalized and worked to free his erection from confinement.

It was then that a string of happenings happened within seconds of one another; Tav came face to face with the cambion’s well-endowed and well-engorged cock, her mouth went dry somewhere in the middle of ringing the water from her rag, and there was the painful realization that she might end up as the one begging.

Raphael languidly began to stroke himself - precum gathering at the tip.

Needing to clean and possessed by desire, Tav leaned in and swiped her tongue across the exposed head of him, causing Raphael to groan and twitch. She looked up, meeting brown, dilated pupils that were filled with longing, and there was the cursory thought that he, with his fiendish arrogance and pride, would simply take what he wanted rather than-

Tav’s musings were cut short when Raphael’s other hand wove itself into her hair.

“Tav.”

The sound of her name was perhaps the closest she would hear to a plea, and her response was automatic. Tav licked her lips before bringing them around the head of his cock, taking him into the heat of her mouth and planting her tongue against him. The rag was dropped and forgotten as her hand came to replace Raphael’s in wrapping around his shaft, and she took over in pumping him slowly, causing an audible breath to leave him. His hips reacted, matching her pace, and his fingers entwined in her hair - adding a gentle pressure to the back of her head as it moved.

Raphael’s heady gaze emboldened her to gradually increase her pace - her tongue circling and licking at his head, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked. His shaft became slick with her saliva, assisting her in her strokes…

And then she stopped with a teasing smirk. He growled in disapproval as Tav removed his cock from her mouth, and she did not blink as she snatched her rag and stood.

“Forgive me for getting distracted - I’d better go clean what was requested,” she rasped.

Every purposeful step she took away from Raphael and towards the pedestal caused her cunt to throb with need, and Tav decided to play out her fantasies; she would be the one to bend for him.

Up the few stairs she went with his eyes never leaving her, and she began to leisurely wipe down the top of the pedestal.

Oops! How clumsy of her to drop the rag behind the massive obstruction!

Needing, of course, to retrieve her item, Tav bent over the pedestal, positioning her stomach against the cool surface, and she made a half-hearted attempt to reach the rag while presenting herself to the cambion.

She gently wiggled her ass in invitation, and, at the sound of a burst, bootsteps became jingling bootsteps in their approach.

Her wiggling ceased the moment she sensed and felt Raphael behind her. The fabric of his clothes pressed against her bare skin, his cock nestled between her legs, and a delightfully warm, clawed hand splayed across her back to then follow down the line of her spine. The hand palmed her ass before giving her a firm spank.

Tav yelped in surprise and twisted to glare at the fiendish, winged and horned form of her ‘spouse’.

“A punishment for being so careless,” he said lowly, treating himself to a handful of her smarting cheek. “I warned you, did I not?”

“I suppose you did,” Tav conceded with a sigh. Her expression changed to include a charming smile as she batted her eyelashes. “But, be a dear and get me another rag so I may continue in my duty?”

“No,” Raphael said. His other hand gripped her hip while the hand on her ass traveled to her aching sex. Fingers slipped between her soaked lips and across the sensitive bud of her clit, causing her to jerk and keen. Raphael practically purred at his findings, and Tav gasped when two digits pushed inside her after a moment of exploration. “I have my mouse right where I want her - squirming under my claws.”

He began to pump, and the mouse squirmed as she held onto the pedestal.

“Have you always wanted this, my dear?” Raphael asked, curling his fingers to elicit a cry of a moan from her lips. “Why else would you offer what you did?”

“Yes, I’ve thought about this - too often…” Tav admitted in between breathlessness.

The claws at her hip dug further into her flesh, and Raphael hummed - sounding positively pleased by what he heard in the middle of positively pleasing her with his fingers. Once she was substantially wound up and to the point of nearly-begging, the cambion removed his digits, leaving Tav feeling empty and needing to be filled.

Eagerness and anticipation spiked her blood at the feeling of his ridged cock sliding between her lips. He coated himself with her desire for him before the head of him pushed at her entrance. 

“As have I,” Raphael said, easing himself inside her walls with a shudder.

“Oh, gods!” Tav moaned. The size of him stretched her, and she choked on breaths as they both acclimated to one another.

He began to move, ripping pleasure through her body while both of his hands gripped her hips.

She clung to immovable marble as the devil she knew fucked her from behind. Raphael buried himself within her cunt with each thrust, and his rhythm seemed to match that of primal need. Her head turned to look at him, and his eyes ensnared her with a blazing fire that held flames of possessiveness.

“My Little Mouse,” he growled.

Danger manifested before her, and the meager amount of wisdom Tav had fought to keep her mouth shut - to neither confirm or deny his claim over her.

But every other aspect within her stupidly liked how it sounded…

“Oh, my lord husband! My Archdevil Supreme!” she exclaimed, causing Raphael to shudder again.

Well.

Her wisdom tried.

As he continued to fuck her, Tav wished to have access to her clit to help push her over the edge, but even if she was not to come undone herself, there was immense satisfaction to be felt and seen in the cambion’s undoing. He became absorbed in having his way with her, which was an ego boost as much as it was a turn on, and Tav was confident that her time for sexual bliss would come in the hours ahead.

Cleaning the House was no longer a priority for either of them.

“You should also know how often I’ve thought about you coming inside me - filling me with your seed...”

In exchange for her confession, Raphael growled something feral. A hand roamed across her skin before pushing into the small of her back, and she was held to him and pedestal both as his pace signified that his climax was nearing.

With a last, rough jerk of his hips, Raphael finished and spilled inside her cunt - his fingers trembling against her skin while every drop seeped into her womb.

His hold left her as he leaned forward and braced himself upon the sides of the pedestal surface. He panted over her, getting his bearings, and Tav was stunned when the cambion eventually leaned over to plant a kiss on her shoulder before slipping out of her and stepping back to give her room to move.

Tav peeled herself away from the marble, leaving perspiration behind.

“I would get my rag…” she cheekily remarked. “But I’m afraid I’m not done soiling this pedestal.”

Raphael’s head snapped to her, and he ravenously watched as she hopped up to properly sit upon the marble top, her legs spreading to showcase his come that leaked from her.

“What's next, dear husband?"

[mad-scientist-enthusiast]

Yor Forger- Character Analysis

I think Yor is such a fascinating character. For one, she has a very unique relationship with femininity. Growing up, Yor had to be "the strong one" and look after her brother in the absence of their parents, and this led her to becoming an assassin so she could provide for him. But even without the Garden, Yor has always been physically strong, blunt, and brutal. Her upbringing didn't allow for the same societal socialization as most girls her age had, which also plays a role here. Despite this, Yor makes a great effort to present as formal and as feminine as possible. And to her credit, she does hit all the hallmarks there. She dresses the right way, has a formal manner of speaking, works in a stereotypically feminine occupation as her day job, and goes out with her coworkers when invited; yet her coworkers, and presumably others still seem to know there is something inherently different about her.

In any other setting, this might be okay—an odd coworker is nothing to worry about—but SPY x FAMILY takes place during the Cold War. People are willing to turn even neighbors in to the Secret Police on just mere suspicion, and that's not even including those who make false reports just because they don't like someone. Yor's survival (or at least freedom) relies on her ability to perform femininity according to the standard, but even when she does everything right, she's still alienated from her peers. A lot of this has to do with language, as she tends to only be aware of syntactic and basic semantic context of words and phrases, instead of the pragmatic context used in Ostania. This was likely also a result of her upbringing. She's not only living a double life as an assassin, but also having to perform this femininity to such an extent is another mask she has to wear. Throwing the pretend marriage into the equation, you get an unrealistic amount of masks to juggle all at once.

Although I'd like to think she's able to take a few of them off when it's just her, Loid, and Anya. Outside of Yuri, Yor has felt that her strength and brutality are things to hide and be ashamed of, so it's a pleasant surprise when her new family immediately accepts and praises her for these things. Loid doesn't think there's anything untoward about her, and typically finds Yor's strength to be quite useful (and hot). And Anya looks up to Yor, wanting to be strong like her one day. This is one of many reasons why their family works so well. So much of her life is spent feeling inadequate for things she can't control while living in fear that someone might report her to the Secret Police, and yet now, with her new family, she is treated normally and with respect. She is able to live a fantasy she never thought she would be able to have with her social difficulties. 

I mention her communication struggles as part of her separation from accepted standards of femininity because the way that women talk and their ability to be socially savvy is inherently tied to their femininity. To me this reminds me of the gender disconnect many autistic people (like myself) feel when they are unable to perform their gender roles conventionally. Even strongly masking, it can feel like theres something so deeply wrong with you that everyone else seems to pick up, but you can't for the life of you identify what. Yor wants to perform femininity, as seen by her uniform with the Garden. She very easily could've gone for something more practical or comfortable, but instead chose an outfit that is seductive and feminine. But the issue comes into play when she's presented with different social contexts. She didn't connect that wearing a seductive dress would probably be inappropriate for getting drinks with her coworkers, because she doesn't realize what is and is not appropriate in the first place. 

Overall, I think this view of her character adds so much depth to her and is way more interesting than the "female himbo dommy mommy" box that the fandom tends to stick her in, to me. (No hate btw, to each their own).

[lurking-latinist]

👀👀 wanna say more about your eusocial timelord theory?

when you sent this ask like a year ago apparently I did not, for which I apologize.

now it's the wee small hours and I'm trying to clear out my asks. but eusocial time lords are so fun. forgive anything that doesn't make sense/jars weirdly in this, I'm trying to explain some quite spitbally worldbuilding.

among other things, it's an explanation for (1) why are there so few time ladies on screen and (2) that very strange thing in I think it's in Gallifrey where Pandora was 'the first female President' and apparently that's a big deal? but like why would a different planet (where they regenerate!!) have the same manifestations of sexism as we have? and also vaguely riffing on the VNAs lore that Gallifrey used to be a matriarchy and Rassilon overthrew it, but also kind of completely transforming that lore.

so forget gender, this is not about gender. "male"/"female" is at best a very rough translation of the binary that Gallifreyans are concerned with, which is worker/queen. They are bees!

The Time Ladies (i.e. Gallifreyans played by female human actors) that we see in the pre-War era (all of this applies to the pre-War era)--Romana, the Rani, Flavia, Inquisitor Darkel--are biologically the equivalent of insect queens. (And the Doctor, the Master, Borusa, the Floating Time Lord, Commander Maxil, etc. etc. are the equivalent of worker bees. The fact that the former all present as female and the latter all present as male is just sort of a translation convention/useful coincidence, I guess.) Gallifreyans evolved from a eusocial species and their early political structures were developments of the hive structure, with reproductive capacity strongly linked to political authority.

Presumably this is what Rassilon, or whatever revolutionary Rassilon stole credit from, is supposed to have overturned--the link between reproductive capacity and political authority. But in my version, it was before that that Looming became a thing: the queens had control of the Looms, so it was the ultimate refinement of their arts and sciences, and it was their way of getting rid of whatever drone class there used to be, if they weren't already parthenogenetic.

And that's why there's the stereotype in Gallifrey--mentioned in connection with Pandora, suggested as a concern about Romana--that a "female" (queen) President will be autocratic. It's seen as a potential return to "how things once were."

And then I did a lot of worldbuilding for how government worked at a stage in history when there was a sort of uneasy balance between reproductive and political power, but that was for a fic Moki was working on and I think she's still working on it, so no spoilers!

So what you end up with is a hive structure where the role of the queen has been sort of abstracted away into... well, the hive itself. The power at the heart of Gallifrey is Gallifrey. I feel like that explains a lot of what's wrong with them.

There might be another branch of the species that evolved away from eusocial structure into something more like solitary bees and that's the Shobogans, possibly, since nobody seems at all clear what the Shobogans are.

Also I read that with naked mole rats, the only eusocial mammal, there are a few in each colony that are predisposed to not fit into the colony and instead go and wander and find other colonies, to promote genetic diversity, and I'm just saying, renegades.

And after the War when there are often maybe two Gallifreyans left, that's why whatever's left of the hivemind keeps trying to get at least one of them to turn out as a Time Lady. Fortunately for the universe, neither of them seems that interested in reproducing.

[pilfappreciator]

ATTENTION TROLLS FANDOM!!

This is very important. Mostly to me but maybe you guys have been wondering this too idk but anyways:

How does troll reproduction work exactly?

Cuz I'm genuinely curious. I dont think anyone on the series production team has said anything and so far I've seen absolutely no one touch on this subject but as someone who's always had an interest in the habits of creatures (both fictional or otherwise), I kinda sorta maybe NEED to know this otherwise I'll never be able to sleep peacefully again

Full disclaimer that I'm specifically talking about the whole egg situation, I am NOT ASKING HOW THEY GET IT ON IF I WANTED THAT ANSWER I'D GO TO DEVIANT ART OR TWITTER OR WHATEVER LAWLESS PLATFORM GOD STEERS CLEAR OF. This discussion shall remain STRICTLY educational, thank you very much

But anywho. Let's dive in

So trolls come from eggs. This is basic knowledge. First instance of this phenomenon (as far as I know, I've only seen the movies) is from World Tour.

Egg pops out of Guy Diamond's hair, egg hatches and BOOM, (literal) baby. Now I understand that this whole sequence was probably just a gag and a way for DreamWorks to implement another (merchandisable) addition to the cast HOWEVER this sequence also raises a few questions

First off, as far as I know Guy Diamond has no partner (again: I haven't watched any of the spinoff shows). Either that or maybe the other troll was a sorta one-night-stand/no-longer-in-his-life kinda situation? Which is great either way cuz its shown he obviously cares for his son and we at Tumblr appreciate a loving single father no matter the circumstances, but if my former theory is correct than that would imply that trolls are capable of reproducing asexually. Like onions.

Now if that hypothesis is, as they call it, "cap" then that would mean that some sorta hanky panky has to go down before an egg comes into question. And if that's the case, does this mean that male trolls are traditionally the ones who carry the eggs?

But that can't be right, can it? Afterall, World Tour gave us yet ANOTHER egg scene later on in the movie

In Cooper's flashback, we clearly see Queen Essence being the one carrying the eggs meanwhile King Quincy is eggless. Now, as far as i see it, this could be explained either one of four ways:

1) Quincy was the one who actually produced the eggs and Essence is merely holding them for her husband (since her hair seems more fitting to be a makeshift nest compared to Quincy's)

2) Female trolls are the ones who produce the eggs. Guy Diamond is just a trans icon

3) Troll reproduction differs from genre to genre

4) There is a... *sighs* a/b/o type of dynamic among troll kind where certain trolls are capable of giving birth/siring children depending on a secondary gender

In regards to theory #3, this could also explain why Guy Diamond seems to reproduce and hatch an egg in such a short amount of time (like 5 seconds I'm pretty sure) as opposed to Queen Essence/King Quincy who's eggs presumably went a while longer before actually hatching.

Actually, speaking off eggs, are trolls the only species in their world that reproduce that way?

Because now that Band Together has officially been released, we now know for certain that it's possible for different species to crossbreed. Biggest example? Resident DILF Bruce and his giant muppet wife

(Credit to @captainunderkrupp )

When I saw these two... I swear...

And these two already have a shit ton of kids okay so like... either Brandi was the one giving birth or trollsona Daveed Digs was over here pumpin out eggs, which I mean-

DO YOU SEE HOW BIG THESE THINGS ARE COMPARED TO BRANCH AND POPPY?? Believe me I am PRAYING that Bruce gave himself some serious maternity/paternity leave because my guy is honestly a trooper

But yeah any thoughts? :))

[gynandromorph]

another little nofna style emulation comic i drew a bit ago that was primarily about why something can "look like words" when it isn't... it is possibly Legend's first time considering the involuntary nature of reading words. she can rationally know that she isn't looking at writing, but her mind continues to see words that she must try to decipher.

the comic ended up getting side-tracked, but i kind of just let these comics go where they go. it is the nofna spirit.

PS and Legend have probably only spoken several times at this point, as classmates. in my head, this is their first season of classes, and they have only just recently proceeded from practicing handwriting and making letters to writing out spoken word.

i imagine that letters and writing are not intuitive at all to people who haven't grown up with it. Legend knew how to read well before entering school. PS has not really internalized that letters represent sounds. she has seen her teacher or classmates speak words as they're writing lines, and later, other people can tell the words that were spoken while writing the lines. her penmanship is naturally excellent, and prior to this module, she was praised by her teacher lavishly.

i imagine that because MOST RODENTS become markscrafts, and rodents tend to be rather... prolific... in number. that classes for this profession would be fucking huge.

the teacher cannot individually dedicate attention to every struggling student, so the first practice is to pair two struggling students together who seem like they compensate each others' shortcomings and see if they can rehabilitate their grades together.

if students continue to fail despite peer review, that is probably the time where a teacher would talk to them privately or recommend a tutor, etc.

the classes also function by a "revise and resubmit" principle over an "extra credit" principle as it is the most direct way for students to figure out what they did wrong and the least amount of extra work for the professor.

their professor is a mouse; a tried to write the grade print small (called "mouseprint" in the canon).

PS's language here is very rough and strange; i imagine she has, at the VERY most, been exposed to common for only a year. she is maybe ~15-16 in age, psychologically. ever since i made her as a character, i assumed one of her core traits was a low drive to do work. she became a markscraft SPECIFICALLY because she did not want to put in the work to earn prestige or more credit. she picked the easiest possible career for her.

as a younger mind, and only recently introduced to the idea that she has to perform labor or GTFO society, her dislike of work is very obvious and she is not reserved about sharing it. she came from a life where she could volunteer to do small tricks for high value treats if she felt like it, and this life is comparatively brutal and demanding in her mind.

Legend's corsage is red star (Rhodohypoxis baurii) and PS's Leaf is a leaf from a large pineapple lily.

Legend is, conversely, probably 18-20 psychologically. idk, the ages are very weird with these animals. i've imagined her parents as highly Civilized people like XX's mother, but a little less strict. while many citizens of society hate wild people (presumably because many of them are serial killers who might serial kill them), not all of them do (example: nutsedge, who sympathizes with a Wild Hawk killing her classmates), and i imagined Legend's parents impressing into her rather strongly that she did not earn being born into a well-off family and physically gifted species.

of course, this didn't stop her from forming a superiority complex towards rodents anyway-- but, i think she's tolerating a significant amount of Weirdness from PS here that she extremely would not tolerate from someone she didn't assume was wild-integrating-into-society, from the constant touching, to the rude openness, the disdain for work ethic, the odd language usage, and the outfit that's essentially showing up to the study session in pasties and booty shorts.

it seems that in these stories, the animals attain a "fluent" level of speech in common relatively quickly (emancipation, secretary), somewhat influenced by natural talent; i think PS has a brute force spaghetti-against-the-wall approach that lets her just mimic as many phrases that she thinks are novel as possible. usually this is an option only available to toddlers who lack the self-awareness to feel embarrassment about constant awkward linguistic mistakes, but PS also has no cultural priming to be embarrassed of the behavior. you can see her parroting various things she's heard, such as "sooo much" as an emphasis phrase, and even "essentially" after Legend says it in passing. other more abstract phrases such as "with credit" or "okay" i imagine she knows simply by being exposed to them over and over again.

when the two get into deeper levels of literacy and markscraft classes, i imagine that Legend's knowledge of grammar and Big Words in general, combined with an ability to verbally express usually unwritten rules in the language, helped propel PS to a level of fluency that has her speaking like she was raised with it 99% of the time.

[gothhabiba]

Every day I do this research, another new facet of how Israel and Zionists use food to whitewash Israeli atrocities and theft comes to light.

In 2018 or 2019, Herb Karlitz* organised a trip to Israel specifically for celebrity chefs (which he called a "Birthright" trip), presumably intending to get as many eyes as possible on food writing that presented Israel in a positive light, free from all the "politics" and "arguments" ("politics" such as, viewing military and settler theft, murder, genocide &c. as bad, or viewing Palestinians as people).

His motivation was explicitly Zionist in nature:

When culinary event marketer Herb Karlitz visited Israel in 2018, he was blown away by the food scene, and how it had changed from his first trip, more than 20 years before. “I had left schnitzled out and underwhelmed by the lack of variety in dishes,” he confessed. “After eating the most amazing food this last time and seeing the difference the country has undergone in terms of ingredients and technique, I was convinced Israel’s food story had to be told.“ [sic] Herb decided he would go back with a group of his friends, who happen to be the country’s most celebrated chefs and culinary influencers. The trip was dubbed “Celebrity Chef Birthright.” [emphasis mine]

During this same time period, Palestinians who were walking along border fences and walls in the Great March of Return were killed and disabled en masse. Per OCHA:

Between 30 March 2018 and 22 March 2019, 195 Palestinians, including 41 children, were killed by Israeli forces in the “Great March of Return” demonstrations, including during the weekly protests near the perimeter fence, protests against the naval blockade at the beach, and the night activities near the perimeter fence. 28,939 Palestinians were injured, including 25 per cent wounded by live ammunition in these GMR demonstrations.

People chide "Arabs" and Palestinians who get angry at hummus bi tahina and falafel being deemed "Israeli" foods as though they are being divisive, silly, or upset over nothing; or as though they are literally contesting the ownership of a specific dish, because they're too stupid to understand how cultural diffusion works (liberal Zionist academics in particular love to take this latter tack).

It couldn't be more obvious that what is actually being responded to is this exact Zionist strategy, where aspects of culture are presented as "Israeli" specifically in order to present Israel in a particular way: as cultured, pluralistic, peaceful, colourful, beautiful, storied / with a history connected to the land, with a particular culture that is its own entity and exists nowhere else.

Food is used in an extremely political way, to "cover up" Israeli atrocities (as Eurovision has been used to do). But this is such a useful strategy because it doesn't seem, to the unpracticed eye, to be political at all! It's just food! Eurovision is just music! So people (especially Arabs and Palestinians) who object are the ones bringing politics and conflict into a situation that, itself, has none. Nevermind the fact that hop-skipping over checkpoints that Palestinians are not allowed to pass, in fact, reeks of politics, divisiveness, and sectarianism.

*U.S.-based entrepreneur who markets "experiences," organises events centred around "celebrity chefs," and has been credited with creating the concept and terminology of a "celebrity chef," though who knows if that's true

[rederiswrites]

Well, today I had the entertainment of having a dental hygienist schedule me for my next cleaning to make sure that she was the one doing the cleaning, so that she could hear "the end of the story". It was definitely a uniquely entertaining tooth cleaning.

You see, I got a message from Jacob while I was in the waiting room, telling me that... Well, the situation with my mom, who lives in our basement and is causing us problems I don't really need to get into, had deteriorated even further. So when the hygienist went to take my blood pressure, I was like, "oh actually, it might be really bad right now, cuz I just got upsetting news, don't worry about it." And then it was, in fact, fairly terrible. It's always been great before, and was great in their records, so we called that one a scratch.

But naturally she was curious to know what had my blood pressure through the roof. Presumably if I'd brushed it off she'd have respected that, but I was like, hell, why not, it's some pretty wild gossip. So I told her the basic outlines, and actually it was good for me, because at some point I'd really started to give my mom a little too much credit, trying to keep the situation peaceful. The hygienist gave me a fresh perspective of like, "wait so why is that even a problem for her?" And at a couple points there seemed to be surprising parallels with her life. So when I was done, and hopefully less likely to pop a blood vessel, I said, "Well I gave you the goods, I think you'll agree, so fill me in on your story!"

Because after all I was about to have her hands in my mouth for fifteen minutes, so my turn with the talking ball was definitely over.

She's like, "Alright, but fair warning, this might be more uncomfortable for you than me." And naturally I say something to the effect of, "Oh nah I'm cool with most things", and she gets to work.

"So ten years ago," she begins, "my husband died."

Me: *indistinct noises of shock and dismay* What's that one Twitter thread--"I know, classic start to a funny story."

Anyhow, short version, her husband died, she had a two year old to take care of, and she was working as a social worker and feeling like she couldn't take another day of it. So she quit her job, sold her house, moved back in with her parents (she got space in the unfinished basement, the baby got her old bedroom) and trained to become a hygienist. It certainly hadn't been her plan to still be there ten years later, but hey, she had help with the kid, he comes home to his grandparents every day instead of her scrambling to find a situation for him until she gets off work, and she feels spoiled to have her mom cooking for her. It's not perfect, but the way she sees it, it's been much better this way for her son.

So now she's gotta wait six months to find out if we get a mediator and how we settle the situation. Which I guess means I gotta actually settle it. God I hope.

As we were saying goodbye, I said, "Wait, I didn't get the punchline. Are you happier as a hygienist?"

"Oh. Oh yeah. Absolutely."

[noneorother]

The grand unified theory of Good Omens S2 hangs on - you guessed it - a double meaning (and art). *Part 2*

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l The End?

This is major spoilers for season 3 territory. You have been warned. I'm also going to split this into parts because wow, I have so many ✨Clues✨! Come with me on a long and magical journey through time, and trust that I will bring you back to the double meaning of it all very soon.

The second thing that Oofs and Ouches my Bones specifically about the art direction in S2 are the time/place cards. You know, the good old rope and stick cards we all know and love are back in S2E1! - wait a minute...

Oh. Okay. I guess we're going with a huge organ swell happening in the music at the same time as a gothic font. Seems... awfully religious of them. Let's try again. S2E2?

Oh shit. 1950s classic Hollywood biblical epic title cards? Really? Okay. But we've already been to London in 1941 in S1 so surely they would just use the same exact title card as last season because it's the SAME SCENE in S2E4 and-

OH GOD it's a black and white classic horror flick! Be afraid! Cower in fear from the zombies that eat brains. So...I think we're getting a feeling this season that they massively changed up the art direction for the all the Minisode title cards. Except did they? Wait, how did the Resurectionists Minisode start?

That seems... very normal. No crazy "Hollywood" title cards here. And they just punted all the classic rope and stick cards that tell us when and where everything takes place in the whole season?

They did not. Y'all there are TWO competing ways of showing the audience Time/Place going on in the same episodes. One is canonically familiar, and the other is new, and very *hack-esque*. If only there was another reference to classic cinema somewhere in the title sequence of each episode to explain what was going on with these things AHHHHHHH-

(If you haven't watched till the end of the opening credits) There's a dude with a big stick waving something in front of the projector in the booth each episode, and presumably this has an impact on what we see on the literal movie screen projecting bits of the story in front of us. So what do we see in front of us from the projector each episode, exactly?

Well for one, we can certainly see that Neil Gaiman found a really interesting place to put his name in the openings... right over a lot of the fishy things in each minisode is a FUN WAY TO DO LAMPSHADING, NEIL. At this point you're screaming at me "But what does this have to do with the gangsters, and Maggie, and everything else?" My friend, I am here to tell you that I'm starting to get the feeling The Metatron has been adding bits and pieces (not very well, mind you, he's a hack writer) to change the outcome of season 2.

Would you like to see more clues, and the prestige reveal of what the double meaning is? Part 3 right here!

[somber-sapphic]

Fevered Bonds

〘Day 1 "Hopelessly Bad at Self-Care"〙

〘Notes Hello everyone! Today we start Sicktember! Most of my fics for this month will probably be on the shorter side, but hey, at least they exist, right? Oh, there may come a point where I give up on making titles and the titles will become the actual prompt.〙

〘Summary When Natasha gets sick and refuses to rest, she ends up getting you sick too. Wanda Maximoff to the rescue.〙

〘Word Count 550〙

〘Pairing WandaNat x Reader (sick Nat+ r)〙

〚Main Masterlist〛⌶〚Sicktember Masterlist〛

Three days ago Natasha had fallen to the same illness that had been attacking the Avengers tower for a week. But of course, she wouldn’t dare admit it.

Being the “invincible warrior” that she was, the woman had absolutely denied anything being wrong and had gone about her daily activities spreading her germs around for everyone to come into contact with.

Wanda had stayed away for the most part, electing to wait until Nat wore herself out before coming into too much contact with her. That wasn’t to say that she had abandoned the redhead, more that she had elected to sleep on the couch and refrain from sharing drinks with the woman.

You had not been quite so smart. At first you had been determined to prove to her that she was sick, following her around with incessant nagging until she finally turned around and yelled at you to leave her alone. Mid yell she had sneezed on you, condemning you to the same fate.

It had taken you barely twelve hours to develop a runny nose, which was quickly followed by a grating cough and raging fever. Natasha had been forced into bed the day before your illness had gotten any worse than a scratchy throat and had sense been demanding that Wanda go away, still claiming that she was fine.

To her credit, the brunette was being incredibly patient. Each time the assassin insisted that she didn’t need another dose of cough medicine Wanda would engage in a calm conversation with her, explaining why she was being stupid without calling her stupid. Her tactic never failed.

When you realized you were getting sick, you didn’t want to burden Wanda any further. You instead decided to take to google and read up on different ways to get rid of germs without taking any medicine. You didn’t like the way it tasted or the way it made you feel so you tended to avoid it at all costs.

The first thing you’d tried ended up also being the last. You’d read something about sweating out illness and decided that being an Avenger with access to a very large gym it seemed that the exercise plan was a good one.

After a bit of struggling into workout clothes -you’d gotten to the point in your illness where your movements had become jerky and unpredictable- you made your way down to the gym. In hindsight, it wasn’t a great plan but in your feverish mind it was the only plan. Afterall, Wanda had her hands full with Natasha.

It had only taken a half hour on the treadmill to realize that you had made a grievous mistake. After realizing that there was no chance of you completing your five-mile goal you slunk out of the gym with a runny nose and a scowl.

After a shower and change you crawled into bed beside Natasha, giving in to the illness. The sleepy redhead sort of just grabbed you, holding you against her like a stuffed animal. You didn’t mind, but it wasn’t long before Wanda was shoving cold medicine and fever reducers in your face.

After she walked away, presumably back to the kitchen where she had been preparing soup, you heard her mutter, “The two of you would be dead without me.”

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[cuffmeinblack]

Between the Lines

Andrew Larson x reader

Tags: Ravenclaw reader | fluff | tension | slice of life | very mild spice

5.1k words

Summary: Something on the noticeboard catches your eye; a book club run by your fellow Ravenclaw. Joining might be the best decision you ever make.

A/n: Yes, I wrote 5k words of pure fluff, sue me. Credit to @ellivenollivander for book club nerd Andrew inspo. Credit to myself for giving him glasses because I'm a self-indulgent pos.

⤍ Andrew Larson masterlist ⤎

By the time you’d found your way back to the Ravenclaw common room, your eyes—now permanently imprinted with light from distant stars—no longer bore the tiredness the late hour invited. In fact, you were wide awake, mind buzzing with maps of constellations and mentally writing your homework assignment not due for another week. It appeared your classmates felt the same annoying spark of energy that would delay sleep until the wee hours. Amit appeared to already be working on his essay, parchment and quill pulled out of his bag and lain across one of the coffee tables. With a sigh, you stalked through the room, bathing in the soft glow of ever burning candles and starlight, coming to a stop near a bookcase filled with mostly educational textbooks. The lone book of Muggle literature seemed to have been borrowed, only a gaping hole left behind.

Another late night atop the Astronomy tower concluded with an assignment that promised yet more of the same. The howling wind almost blew you down the stairs in the rush below, students clamouring into the relative warmth of the castle. The deeper you descended, the more your muscles relaxed—despite the warming charm you'd cocooned yourself in at the beginning of your lesson, it was clearly no match for the harsh Scottish Winters. In front of you, you spotted others shivering still, rubbing their arms, teeth chattering, including the ash blond hair you recognised as Andrew Larson's. He was perhaps the only other student who enjoyed the subject as much as Amit, who's enthusiastic smile appeared frozen in place.

Instead of grumbling your annoyance, you let your eyes drift over the adjacent noticeboard, chuckling softly at the personal notes that littered the display. Love letters sat side by side with passive aggressive scrawls, replies inked haphazardly in the margins of the papers. Your gaze finally fell onto the more serious announcements, ignoring the notice from Headmaster Black that was sure to be a load of old tosh. A new piece of parchment caught your eye, pinned to the very top, the stiff paper curling upwards. With a delicate finger, you peeled it down to reveal the neat and somewhat familiar penmanship detailing a new club—a book club. Well, if that wasn't right up your street…

“Interested?”

The softly melodic voice interrupted your reading, and you turned to face Andrew, a hopeful glint in his eyes—or perhaps that was the lingering starlight still etched into your own retinas. 

“Is this your book club?” you asked, surprised that the quiet boy would be interested in running such a thing.

“Yes, though I only put the notice up yesterday. Are you interested, then? I've seen you reading in the common room a lot…”

He flushed slightly, perhaps realising he'd said too much. The thought of Andrew Larson noticing you doing anything made the corners of your lips quirk upward.

“What kind of books are we talking? Not schoolwork I presume.”

“No, nothing of the sort. A little bit of everything I suppose,” he mumbled, suddenly unsure as your scrutinising gaze bore into him. Only then did you notice him clutching a book under his arm, which now appeared in front of your face—a fine green leather bound edition with gold text.

“Dickens?” you asked, tilting your head to read the cover.

He nodded. “For starters. Conan Doyle, Stevenson, Warbeck…”

You snorted a little at the last, the famous witch being an author you’d not expected him to enjoy. “Warbeck? Read a lot of romance novels, Andrew?”

“Well…maybe…,” he blushed, then took a deep breath to rally his confidence. “There's nothing wrong with branching out into other genres.”

“No, you're right,” you replied, quietly watching him. There were clearly things you didn't know about your classmate. Though you'd not admitted to it, you'd noticed him reading in the common room, too, head dipped and perfectly coiffed hair falling over his eyes as it loosened after a long day. He tended to idly bite his nails as he did so—a terrible habit, yet oddly endearing to see him so engrossed in the pages, nibbling away. At no point had you caught him with a romance novel in hand, though, and given the content of some of Warbeck’s novels you had the sneaking suspicion he kept them for bedtime.

Your mind was made up. Plunging a hand into the bag still slung over one shoulder, you pulled out a self-inking quill and returned to the parchment notice. A quick scribble and your name was the first to join the sign-up sheet. 

“Welcome to the Hogwarts book club,” Andrew said, beaming. The amber flecks in his eyes glittered as he turned to face you, tucking the book back under his arm. No doubt the club would be fun, the avid reader that you were, but it might have been worth signing up just to see his smile.

-

Days passed with giddy anticipation, until Andrew had passed you a note during Arithmancy the following week. It had surprised you, jolting you out of a near-slumber as the neatly folded parchment fluttered onto your desk. All it contained was a date, a location, and a little doodle of a book that coaxed forth a sleepy smile, earning you a public admonishment from your professor. You'd tucked it into your robes where it stayed for the remainder of the day, fingers fumbling the edges as you walked the halls. You'd never before been so excited about an extracurricular activity that didn't involve flying spherical deathtraps, and you suspected that part of it was due to the quiet and devastatingly handsome boy running it. The first meeting of the so-far-unnamed book club would take place that evening in the Charms classroom, no doubt with Professor Ronen’s blessing yet you hoped that the man himself wouldn't be attending—it was ever so hard to relax when teachers were around.

After dinner, you took the opportunity to shower and dress more comfortably, styling your hair and paying far too much attention to your appearance. You supposed the first meeting would be a way to meet your fellow club members and vote on the first book, but you tucked a couple of your favourites in a satchel anyway, eager for any opportunity to gush about the intricately crafted worlds you'd come to love just as much as Hogwarts. You had a skip in your step as you travelled the quiet corridors towards the classroom, stopping briefly along the way to stroke a few cats, eager for attention. The landing was clear, door ajar with nothing but silence within. The eeriness had you checking the time and rereading the note that now had hundreds of creases along its length. One minute early. You pushed the door open to reveal an empty room, bathed in gold from the setting sun.

“Welcome.”

The voice made you startle, and you turned to see Andrew perched on Professor Ronen's desk, once again clutching a book under his arm.

“Hi,” you said with a smile, glancing around the room to avoid staring at him. He'd dressed in cotton breeches and a smart navy jumper, and you hadn't failed to notice the gold rimmed spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. “I'm the first to arrive?”

Andrew shuffled his boots on the floor, eyes cast downwards. “You're actually the only one who signed up.”

Now you looked at him, almost falling sideways from the weight of your bag and the way he peered over his glasses at you. “I'm surprised our fellow Ravenclaws didn't want to be involved,” you said with a quiet chuckle. 

“Me too. Since it's just us, you don't have to stay.” He shrugged, though you could tell that it bothered him, the disappointment in his tight smile.

“I'd still like to carry on, if it's okay with you. Maybe more will join over the next few weeks…”

You stepped a little closer to him, debating whether to squeeze his arm in a show of solidarity and sympathy. Instead, you faltered, awkwardly swinging your arms by your sides. He didn't notice, tucking his book back into his bag as if to leave—the rejection of your company stung painfully.

“Shall we go back to the common room, then? It's more comfortable there, and…”

“Yes, good idea,” you interrupted with an audible sigh of relief.

The walk back was filled with friendly chatter, never delving too deep—questions about your classes, his plans for the weekend, the weather—and never straying to the reason you'd ventured out here in the first place. Official book talk would only commence once settled into the common room, it seemed. Andrew, taking his position as club leader, picked out two armchairs by one of the towering arched windows, the backdrop now one of inky black as night well and truly settled. Tucking your feet underneath you, you tried to get comfortable as he called the meeting to order.

“I thought we could start by discussing some books we've read recently, then agree on a title to finish before the next meeting,” he said, suddenly adopting an air of confident formality.

You tried to suppress a smile, though you weren't entirely successful. “If that's what you'd like to do. Maybe you can tell me about the last Warbeck novel you read. Please tell me it was ‘Call of the Harpy’.”

Andrew huffed, a slight blush creeping up his neck. “Actually it was ‘Dragon Fire’,” he muttered. “I'm not going to discuss that.”

Teasing out of the way, you talked about recent reads and went back and forth with suggestions. It somewhat surprised you how easy it was, falling into conversation with him until the room emptied and candles dimmed. You'd found yourself subconsciously edging closer towards him, caught up in his radiating passion. His shyness seemed to melt the longer he spoke, and you along with it. It was almost midnight by the time you agreed to delve into ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ for next time.

“Shall we meet again in a fortnight?” he asked. 

You wanted to say no, demand something sooner, but instead you nodded. “Sounds good. Let's hope some more people join us,” you replied, not meaning a word of it. These few hours had been far too enjoyable in just his company, the last thing you wanted was another voice to pull his attention, as selfish as the thought was.

-

You finished the book in four days. The fifth was spent making notes, annotating every margin with points you thought worth discussing. The sixth had you climbing the walls, biting back the urge to storm up to the blond whenever you saw him, eager to know when your next meeting would be. You noticed him still reading almost every evening, nibbling his nails and deep in thought, and during the day you exchanged pleasantries, or passed each other like ships in the night as you mingled with your separate friendship groups. You swore you felt his eyes on you during Arithmancy. On the eighth day, you were walking back to the common room with Samantha when you noticed a fresh slip of parchment pinned to the noticeboard—how could you not, when your eyes diverted there every morning and every evening? The original notice for the Hogwarts Book Club remained in place, still bare and devoid of any signature but your own, yet on top there lay a curling piece that you knew was written by Andrew the closer you approached.

“What is it?” Samantha asked, following beside you. “I forgot you joined the book club. Maybe I should, too, but I'm so busy with chess and summoner's court…”

“You don't want to take on too much,” you replied with just the slightest pang of guilt. Your attention diverted to read the paper, happily noting that the next meeting would be only three days away. Samantha was mumbling something beside you, trying to talk herself into signing up. Part of you felt annoyance towards your classmates, and bafflement; yet another, larger part was pleased that the club was just you and Andrew. Still, the thought of his downcast eyes and obvious disappointment when he realised nobody else would be attending flared in your mind, prompting an uncomfortable twist of your stomach.

“I’m sure Andrew would be happy for another member.”

“I’ll think about it,” she hummed.

Once she'd departed for bed, you settled on a sofa facing the fire with a new book, having now exhausted everything ‘Dorian Gray’ had to offer. That night, you had company.

“Not reading your assigned text?” 

You looked up to the familiar, soft voice to find big brown eyes creased from a smile. You smiled back, rolling your eyes. “I finished days ago. You're slacking."

Andrew motioned at the space next to you, a silent question you responded to with a nod. He didn't say anything else, just looked a little bashful as he turned to his book, now on the final few chapters by your estimations. Lapsing into silence, you fell back into your own story whilst the common room melted away around you, the chatter dulling to an unnoticeable hum. Only occasionally did you reach a natural pause, peering over at Andrew to check his progress, admire his profile, his slender form draped over the arm of the sofa.

“I'm finished,” he said sometime later, stretching his arms above his head to reveal a slight tuft of ash blond hair that smattered his taught abdomen. There was absolutely no way you could concentrate on your book now.

“At long last. What did you think?”

“That's a question for our next meeting.”

So instead, you talked about everything else.

-

A month passed and meetings came once a week or so, the time between them growing shorter and shorter. Reading together in the dimly lit common room seemed to have become routine, neither of you feeling the need to make awkward small talk to while away the hours, simply happy to sit comfortably in each other’s presence whilst immersed in other worlds. You'd not expected the friendship—grown so late in your time at Hogwarts—and somewhat missed the years that could have been. Laying in bed at night, you'd wondered if it wasn't too late for something more. His earthen eyes behind the gold frames haunted your dreams, whilst conscious hours dwelled on how soft his hair might be, or how pliant his lips against yours. He must have caught you staring, as you'd done him.

“We need a club name.” 

Perched in the usual spot on your sofa, now several inches closer to the middle, you voiced the idea you'd thought of whilst Andrew had been busy updating a list of prospective books for the following week. You were so close your legs touched, bodies drawn together like magnets that seemed to ignite your skin upon contact. Neither of you flinched away, nor commented on it.

“Do we? I'm not even sure we count as a club.”

“Maybe if it was more official, people would come?”

Andrew looked at you with a curious expression, perhaps wondering why now you'd suggested recruiting more members when it had been just you two for so many weeks. His knee withdrew just an inch, and you regretted suggesting it, craving the slight pressure, the warmth. The truth was, you were nervous of where this was headed. The tension between you rippled and sparked every time you were alone, and it was just a matter of time before you cracked and did something disastrous, or potentially embarrassing. 

“Hm, it can't help to try,” he chuckled. “What did you have in mind?”

“I hadn't thought that far. Erm, ‘Book Buddies’? ‘Rabid Readers’?”

He hummed and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “‘Page Turners?’ ‘Once Upon a Tome?’”

Your face cracked into a smile as you grabbed the parchment and quill from Andrew's hands, fingers brushing. Your heart pounded at just the smallest touch of skin, so distracting you almost forgot what you were doing. With a quick and messy scrawl, you inked ‘Once Upon a Tome’ across the top of the paper and held it up.

“You couldn't have written that a bit neater?” Andrew said.

“I’ll let you continue to do the official notices, don't worry.”

“That's probably for the best.” He held out his hand and for one moment of insanity, you thought he was asking for yours. Of course, he was simply waiting for you to return the parchment. Embarrassingly, you couldn't help the disappointment as you rolled it up and slid it into his palm, your body reacting to the gentle brush of fingertips with a swell of warmth and affection. The exchange lasted for agonising moments, yet was over altogether too soon. Andrew tucked it into his bag on the floor but remained planted on the sofa.

“Well, that's all for this week,” he said hesitantly. “Have anything planned this evening?”

“No, nothing. Do you?”

He shook his head and bit his lip before looking at you with hope in his eyes. “Do you want to…I don't know, take a walk?” He almost flinched as if the suggestion were a terrible one.

“That sounds nice,” you replied with a warm smile. An excuse to spend even more time together wasn't to be passed up. “If we're going outside, I'll need a cloak.”

“I'll meet you here in a few minutes then?”

Donning your heaviest Winter cloak, a navy blue woolen affair, you jogged down to the common room to find him already waiting, holding a pair of black gloves. Whilst the hour was late and light was all but gone, it was still before curfew. You followed him down the tower, turning to the nearest exit that brought you into the refreshing night air. You hadn't noticed just how stuffy the common room had been with the roaring fire and mingling scents—the gentle breeze was most welcome. You talked and talked until you came to a stop on the parapet, leaning against the low wall that surrounded Hogwarts and looked out over the lake. The ripples on the surface looked too tumultuous to be caused by the wind, and you glared down at the glittering surface.

“Do you think a storm's brewing?” you asked, pointing below. 

“I don't think so. Perhaps it's the mer down below.”

“You really think there's mermaids in the Black Lake?”

“I like to think so, even if it's nonsense. It can't all be grindylows and vicious fish with too many teeth down there.”

“Not a fan of the fish, Andrew?”

“I prefer my feet on dry land and fish on my dinner plate, thank you.”

You chuckled and turned your head back towards the lake, the ripples now stilling, yet you noticed something more alarming further out. The water had only stilled as the waters receeded in preparation for a wave. As if sucked into a giant plug hole, it rushed inward, bubbled, then burst outward. Andrew jolted and shouted in surprise beside you, your own mouth agape as you watched tentacles flailing and a huge, slimey head rear from the lake. You'd never seen the giant squid in all your years at Hogwarts, only heard of its size and the rumours of disappearing students who lingered too close to the water's edge. From the wall high above, you knew he couldn't reach you, but something had gotten it in a tizzy and you instinctively took a miniscule step backwards. You weren't high enough to completely avoid its spray, though, as a fine, salty mist now coated your face.

“It's amazing,” Andrew gasped.

“One word for it…monstrous is another.”

“Come on, look at it! I've never seen it before…or anything like it.” His excitement was palpable, and you almost clutched a fistful of his cloak to stop him from leaning too far over the edge.

The squid flailed again, more of a belly flop, sending a huge wave to the beach as it plunged back underwater and out of sight. Soon the only sound was the crash of water against the pebbles and your own heavy breathing. Only then did you realise you'd been clutching his arm, and his hand had found its way to the small of your back. You looked at him and he tore his eyes away from the lake, both standing in silence as the gravity of your instinctive pull to one another settled. As on the sofa, you'd found yourself growing subconsciously closer. It appeared there was no stopping it.

“You're wet,” he remarked. His eyes widened after he'd said it, his burning cheeks evaporating the water right off his skin.

“A little. So are you. It was worth it though, right?”

“Yes, it was worth it,” he said. 

You weren't sure if you were talking about the squid or the fact that his hand still held firm against your back. Judging by the slightly furrowed brow, neither did he.

-

The new addition to the noticeboard almost blended into the myriad other notices—if it weren't for Andrew's recognisable handwriting, neat and elegant like the man himself—you’d have missed it. Of course the tiny book doodle in the corner was a giveaway for whom it was for. You read the contents, and your cheeks burned involuntarily. You had to read the note three times, inspecting every letter for forgery. It contained a date and time, and curiously, a new location. A flick of paper confirmed that no names had been added to the signup sheet for your newly titled club. Perhaps Andrew was bored of the common room, but the astronomy tower seemed an odd place for discussing literature, with not a comfortable chair in sight and no lights to speak of except the ones dotting the sky.  A flicker of hope ignited, that perhaps he had other ideas for that evening.

Neither of you mentioned the curious change in venue as you chatted during classes or smiled across the laden breakfast table. You'd told Samantha everything you knew and suspected, and her dark eyes flitted between you both with a smirk on her face. By the time you were due to leave for the astronomy tower on a Tuesday evening, your friend had become insufferable in her teasing. 

“Make sure you wear that perfume…”

“Sam, it's just a book club.”

“Of course it is. In the Astronomy tower. Alone.”

That final word made your stomach squirm. Still, you packed your book into your satchel and ignored the perfume sitting on the dressing table, passing Samantha with a wave met only by an eye roll. The tower was quiet, no classes scheduled and the bitter wind warding off all but the most dedicated students. Even Amit had decided to do his stargazing from the comfort of the common room that night. Andrew was already waiting, leaning against the railing and peering out at the clear night sky. Dressed in a black winter cloak, he almost blended in with the landscape were it not for his hair, almost silver in the soft moonlight.

“Strange place to meet,” you remarked, causing his head to whip around. 

He shrugged, smiling shyly as you approached. “I thought it would be quiet. And…” He looked out at the sky again, as if the view was answer enough. It was.

“What would you have done if someone else had decided to join our club?” you asked.

“Apologise profusely and ask them to make themselves scarce.”

Smiling at him, you waited for him to carry on, but he seemed to be too nervous to say anymore. His gaze dropped from your eyes to your lips, throat bobbing as he swallowed deeply.

“So, why are we up here?” you prompted.

Andrew let out a deep exhale, his breath producing a cloud of mist between your faces. Mint. He'd brushed his teeth. The fact that you were now close enough to have noticed such a thing almost startled you. “I wanted to tell you something,” he said whilst shuffling his feet. He looked nervous, ready to bolt back down the stairs given the way he avoided your stare. Perhaps that's why you decided to be bold, and put him out of his misery.

“I like you, too.”

The seconds after blurting those four words out seemed to stretch into minutes, maybe even hours. Whilst you tried hard to keep your face neutral, inwardly your thoughts were in turmoil, desperately awaiting his response. Anything. Your chest hurt with the aggressive thumping of your heart, your palms felt sweaty despite the cold…

“You knew?” he asked.

“I guessed, or hoped.”

“I had a whole speech planned.”

“You can still say…” The rest of your sentence was cut off by his lips pressing against yours. The initial shock dissipated quickly, your body heating and blood rushing as it responded to his kiss. Only a tempting press of lips and it was over too soon—Andrew pulled back, the tip of his nose still brushing your skin as he took another deep, shuddering, minty breath. He seemed to be allowing you a chance to pull away, as if that were ever an option. Your hand snaked around his neck, another fisting the heavy fabric of his cloak, pulling him so eagerly he almost stumbled and fell straight into another, deeper kiss. This time he didn't hold back, gripping your waist with slender fingers, firm and sure. 

You could have kicked yourself for how long you'd waited for this to happen. All those weeks spent agonisingly close on that sofa, you could have been doing this. And it was everything you'd dreamed of; his lips just as soft; tongue just as warm and offering such a gentle caress. His hands remained respectfully at your waist, yet the way he kneaded at your flesh suggested he wanted more. You shivered in response to a quiet moan as his tongue delved deeper, your bodies pressing tighter. When you finally broke for air, his fingers curled in your hair and he held you close, foreheads touching as you gathered your breath. Never before had you experienced a kiss quite like it, an outpouring of a deep well of tension. There'd be no going back now, not when you'd had a taste of him.

“Andrew...” Your voice was breathier than usual, and you felt an unmistakable twitch in his breeches. He almost pulled away, but you held him firm, lips barely brushing as you felt your own arousal simmering dangerously close to the surface. The temptation was overwhelming, yet you knew he was a gentleman. His expression was almost pained with desire.

“I won't do anything you don't want me to,” he finally said.

“I don't want you to think I go about doing this with every boy.”

He chuckled and brushed a finger under your chin, tilting your head enough to meet his gaze. Gods, he had beautiful eyes. “I don't think that. I really only wanted to tell you that I like you as more than a friend and to…well, to ask you if you'd like to accompany me to Hogsmeade at the weekend.”

A date, of course. Your mind had been in the gutter from the moment his lips met yours. Perhaps a faint flicker of disappointment had appeared on your face as Andrew smiled wider, his cheeks now a rosy pink.

“Give me three dates,” he mumbled.

You let out a nervous giggle before kissing him again. “Two, and I promise to keep my hands to myself until then.”

It was a while before you were defeated by the cold, lured back to the castle. You held hands on the walk back to the common room and Andrew cast warming charms on you both to dispel the chill. As beautiful as the view was on top of the Astronomy tower, you preferred the one right next to you. He was a little quieter than usual, perhaps nervous for what was about to come. It was only a promise of a date, yet the way your hands entwined so surely and perfectly, you had the impression that it was a mere formality, that your hearts were perhaps already promised to one another. 

-

The end of the school year brought tears for the loss of classmates, promises to friends and a palpable excitement that rippled through the seventh years as they embarked upon new adventures. Andrew had travelled home a week earlier than most, leaving you feeling empty, despite the revelry taking place around you. Countless parties had been thrown to mark the occasion, yet you most of all missed the quiet hours spent curled up in his arms reading, talking, or much more physical pursuits. It had been worth the wait.

Along with much of the common room’s occupants you had a hangover, and inwardly cursed the Hufflepuffs for their home-brewed mead. Samantha recoiled from the soft morning light beside you, collapsing into an armchair with her trunk beside her and muttering about needing a pepperup potion. The train would be leaving in an hour, and all around you people were saying their goodbyes, perhaps for the final time. You'd be sad to see the castle go, and all the memories it held. The people you'd met would still be only an owl or floo away, though, and you looked down at Samantha's crumpled form with a fond smile. A final sweep of the room, and you were ready to go, rallying your friend with promise of hot cocoa on the train. She grumbled but traipsed behind you, until you were stopped in your tracks by something you'd missed that made your heart leap almost clean out of your chest.

You'd spotted a note on the noticeboard with the familiar little book doodle in the bottom right corner. Without Andrew, you'd not bothered to check for any notices, yet here it was—one final note for the book club that had started it all. 

“Sam, I'll meet you outside…”

“Is that from Andrew?” she asked, peering over your shoulder. “Ooh, let me see!”

“I'd rather read it alone, if it's all the same to you.”

She tilted her head in disappointment but had no energy to argue, muttering about getting the information out of you later on the train as she slinked off to wait. Your gaze dropped to his beautiful handwriting, the care he'd taken to make this particular parchment worth keeping was evident. Removing it carefully from the pin, you began to read.

‘It started with Once Upon a Tome,

Now Princess, let's have our Happily Ever After,

I shall see you again in the Summer,

The beginning of our adventure.

Yours,

Prince Charming’

You held it close, warmth spreading through your tired body as the sounds of the common room evaporated around you. You recalled every minute spent with him, every date you'd squeezed into the remaining months of the school year. You owed it all to that one fateful day when you'd taken a chance to join a book club. A fairytale ending, indeed.

[allthedoorsareopennow]

ALRIGHT. LET’S INVESTIGATE THE UDAD PHOTOS. MUCH INFORMATION BELOW. SO MUCH

ok top left. brian is the oracle of delphi, of course in greek mythology the most prominent oracle

bottom left. for some reason the goddess artemis’ name seems to have been misspelled as artimes? I have no idea why. artemis is the olympian that features in actea and lyssa.

bottom right. seems to suggest marius’ lecture will take place in the aristotle institute - aristotle is a famous greek philosopher (among other things, grouped loosely as a polymath)

top right. as you likely know, these are military dog tags, usually intended to allow for the identification of corpses. an enomotarch is the commander of an enotomy, a division of 25-36 soldiers, bound together by oath. this seems to be a term originating in Sparta.

middle right. tipple seems to be a term for alcohol, consistent with the bottle top the term appears on. the toy soldier seems to have made its own liquor brand while in the city. (perhaps DB stands for dionysus bacchus, the greek and roman names respectively for the god of alcohol?)

right. a coin is shown, on one side reading ‘to speed the/journey down’. this likely is about the belief that the ferryman (charon) who takes the dead souls across the river acheron and into the underworld must be paid. virgil’s aeneid claims that if the deceased cannot afford to pay the ferryman, they must wander the shores of the styx (another underworld river, in some stories providing the same function as the acheron) for one hundred years before they are allowed to cross into the underworld. thus having this coin to give the ferryman would literally speed the journey down into the underworld in greek mythology. also depicted on this side is the logo of the acheron. on the other side of the coin is featured a headshot of ashes, with the text ‘a penny’ above (the smallest british unit of currency). I cannot discern the text below.

background. the blueprint for the aegis, which in homer’s iliad is a device carried by athena pr zeus, interpreted as either an animal skin or a shield, sometimes featuring the head of a gorgon, that symbolises protection.

the text on the left appears to read as follows:

‘…[ti]tanium…n for the…ens district…[lig]htning rod

‘spikes - they look badass

‘Durable Ti core

‘Moderator’

Ti is the chemical symbol for titanium. also depicted is a uranium fission reaction. a moderator is something else that is needed in a fission reactor core, so this must be a design for a fission reactor. ‘enriched to 90%’ refers to the uranium - uranium-235 is the most fissile isotope, so the more U-235 you have, the more fission you can achieve. for context, reactors often use uranium enriched to 3.5-4.5% - 90% is overkill by a long way for energy generation purposes. my guess is that this reactor core is designed to provide huge amounts of energy to operate sone kind of lightning device, likely intended for zeus (the god of lightning). it is signed by athena and raphaella la cognizi.

BRING FORTH THE NEXT IMAGE!

another acheron coin is shown. I'm not really sure what’s happening in most of this one.

ANOTHER!

more acheron coins and a half-visible toy soldier’s tipple bottle cap. the focus of this picture is a torn and blood-splattered coaster for Calypso’s, the bar from which the suits kidnapped ulysses.

NEXT!

now this is more like it

a zeus coin is depicted, showing five credits - presumably the official currency of the city

there is a gambling chip bearing the name hermes, perhaps referencing his role as a trickster god

the guitar pick is stamped with the name apollo, the greek god of music and song.

there is a fragment of a newspaper cover - we will get more shots of this later.

the emblem of poseidon is shown to be a trident, a weapon poseidon is often depicted as wielding, representing his status as god of the sea.

wow I wonder what name is on that card it’s mostly blocked I wonder if the next will have the name..

BEHOLD!

so that’s presumably an ID card for a security guard, whose name we can now see is Anippe ?aiad. Anippe in greek mythology is the egyptian daughter of the river god nilus, and is thus a naiad, so the name on the card is Anippe Naiad. I can find little information about her, other than that heracles killed her son.

we also get a look at ulysses here, the the text ‘//ALL POINTS FUGITIVE ALERT//‘ above their mugshot.

NEXT!

the text on the ulysses info that seems to be on some kind of old tablet reads

…1) COUNT THEFT:

…[CYCLO]PS - POSEIDON PROPERTY

…OR CAPTURE: DR-25000

…E BOUNTY

…S:

SPONSORED BY POSEIDON INDUSTRIES

CLICK TO LEARN MORE

this seems to be putting a bounty of ‘DR-25000’ (presumably a currency?) on ulysses’ head for the theft of the eye of the cyclops.

more newspaper.. shall we take a closer look?

across four different images, here is the newspaper:

TRANSCRIPT BEGINS

ALL THE NEWS ALL THE TIME

LARGEST HOME CIRCULATION

LARGEST ADVERTISING VOLUME

DELPHI 2374

The City Oracle Telephone Number

THE CITY ORACLE

IN THREE PARTS - 46 1…

PART 1 - GENERAL NEWS…

ORACLE OFFICE

292 West Hector Stree[t]

VOL. LVIII KRONOU MORNING, GAMELION 5, 12390 DAILY, 5 DRACH[MA]

OEDIPUS IN INCEST MARRIAGE SCANDAL

SHOCKING NEW REVELATIONS OVER IDENTITY OF HERO DOCTOR'S WIFE AND MOTHER

MAN WHO CURED THE SPHINX TRIES TO PLEAD IGNORANCE - WILL SEEK TO FIND REFUGE OFF WORLD

(columns on right):

INSIDE

NARCISSUS DENIES PLASTIC SURGERY CLAIMS

HERMES TO UNVEIL NEW HI-SPEED MAGLINES

FORTY DEAD IN SUB-LEVEL 54D EXPLOSIONS: WHO IS “GUNPOWDER TIM?”

TWENTY YEARS FROM ILIUM: WILL THE SCARS EVER HEAL?

Oedipus Rex, the doctor hailed as a hero after successfully curing the disease ravaging the sublevel slums, has been revealed to have been married to his own mother for the last eight years, in what is being hailed as the social scandal of the decade.

Mr. Rex previously claimed to have grown up in one of the City's most troubled orphanages. However, a source within the Acheron has claimed that Teiresias, one of the network's most trusted interfaces, revealed his true origins yesterday.

“I didn’t know,” Oedipus told The Oracle, “I’d always believed my parents to be dead. I had no way of knowing they were even alive, let alone…”

Oedipus’ wife and mother, Jocasta Rex, has been unavailable for comment. She was last seen boarding a transport line to Outer Thebes, an area known for the number of suicides it attracts.

It is known she had been married once before to Laius, Mayor of one of the Thebian districts at the centre of the Sphinx epidemic. It was repoterd that he disappeared shortly before the announcement of the cure, under circumstances described by City PD as ‘suspicious’.

CONTINUED PG.5

HERACLES ACQUITTED ON MISTRIAL TECHNICALITY

The City High Court finally came to a ruling today in the case of Heracles, the notorious figure at the centre of the murder trial which has gripped the City for the last four weeks.

Heracles, who worked for the House of Zeus as head security for fifty years before resigning under unknown circumstances last Theozenios, was found not guilty of the brutal slaying and dismemberment of his wife and two children.

According to sources familiar with the case, he was found lying unconscious in his home, surrounded by the bodies of his family, holding in his hand what was at first thought to be the murder weapon. However, forensic evidence regarding the blade was judged to have been inadmissible, and his insistence he was defending his family from an attacker swayed the jury.

Heracles has been unable to identify the assailant against which he was struggling. This is not the first time Heracles has been involved in accusations of violence. Rumours persist that he may have been the infamous “Thunderbolt of Zeus” while working with the company, despite no connection ever being proven between the Olympian patriarch and the unknown hitman.

CONTINUED PG.9

TRANSCRIPT ENDS

Delphi and the oracle are referenced several times.

A drachma is a greek unit of currency, hence why I have guessed that as the unit of price for the newspaper.

Teiresias, the one referenced as revealing Oedipus’ parentage, is a blind prophet of Apollo from Thebes, known for clairvoyance and being transformed into a woman for several years. he is referenced as being one of the first brains volunteered into the acheron in the fiction, and holds and manages all the knowledge of the acheron.

Theoxenia seems to be a descriptor for greek mythology stories in which characters show benevolence and hospitality to strangers who turn out to be disguised deities capable of reward. These stories encourage people to treat anyone they meet as potential disguised divinity.

ONWARD!

another oracle of delphi ad, the corner of the newspaper, and part of hades’ file on oedipus..

TRANSCRIPT BEGINS (pencil markings in orange)

Name: Oedipus Rex not given surname

Occupation: Doctor (Retired) Disgraced

Age: 52 No records- abandoned at birth. Estimate Height: 5’10” Weight: 132l[b]

Hair: Chestnut Eyes: N/A self-blind[ed]

District: Thebes

Abandoned by wealthy but paranoid parents at birth. Olympians secret[ly] pulled strings, used him as poster [child] for failing orphanage scheme. Notab[le] for successfully researching the cause/[…] for the Sphinx - exceptional intel[ligence] shown. Worthy candidate for "Trial [by] Wits". Currently seeking to leave T[he] City after publicised patricide and maternal relations; will likely pla[…] ball given ample funding. EXPLOIT

END TRANSCRIPT

the tab at the side reads WITS. as well as oedipus’ fingerprints, there is a dirty handprint in the top right of the document. the newspaper appears to be stained with rings of tea or coffee.

at first I thought the photo of oedipus featured in hades’ document was this one, but it doesn’t quite match. it’s a good photo anyway.

NEXT

gunpowder tim’s dog tags from earlier are visible at the base of the photo again. A different part of Oedipus’ file is shown, showing a handprint and the start of a date on the photo of Oedipus, beginning 08/12. a map is shown too, with crosses through two locations and a circle around another. from what I can see the streets seem to mostly have fairly generic names.

sadly I have now reached image limit. when I have made the next post, I will link it here.

update I realised some of the stuff guessing cut off words and such that I did is pointless because the full documents for a bunch of them are in the goddamn cd book thing. and I kind of can’t be bothered to finish cause it feels like half the stuff I did was pointless. if you would be interested say so and maybe I will do more. but otherwise. nah

[maevearcher]

...um, okay, so, @pennyblossom-meta, here is part one of my two cents. I...I actually decided to peruse the manga again, so I'd pay more attention to specific things instead of...just living it over and over again, and beyond... So, I've decided to split things into parts, so it doesn't get insanely long either. This first part covers up to the point where Misa introduces herself to Light.

…I never know how or where to start these things….

First things first, I want to be clear on the fact that this, everything that I’m going to say, comes from the perspective that I’ve held true to my core values over as many years as I remember, ever since I learned how to read, namely that the book is better and truer that the movie. That the original written word is the baseline truth on which I must build any interpretation that will not result in me falsifying the very essence of what I’m trying to understand.

On that assumption, in any analysis of the character of L, I always, but always refer back to the manga, with the anime serving as completion of details here and there, with the anime giving me the absolutely exquisite feel of actually hearing him (and for me, the English dub is the best, I love Alessandro Juliani’s low, vocal fry-ish rendition, I love his harsh tones here and there, which I find most fitting for the particular manga scenes they are constructed upon.

It is true that anime and musical and whatnot paint a much more….humanized, softened picture of L A rounder, more sympathetic, more socially palatable picture. An image of this lonely autistic genious, locked inside the confines of his ways, waiting for the right person to come along and save him from the banes of his solitary existence…until he meets Light and realizes there’s someone out there who he can relate to, for understanding and stuff. I personally don’t buy too much into that.

I am not going to debate too much whether or not he’s autistic, because I cannot presume to understand that kind of a mind, that kind of an IQ, and the emotional development losses that come with it (because nature doesn’t make presents, almost always a high IQ comes with a lower EQ, grain of salt added). However, I can see neurodivergent traits, such as preference for low-stimulation environments, perhaps sensory sensitivity (such as preference for one particular type of fabric or comfort in clothing style…. – or perhaps he simply can’t be bothered with style choices and all, and tee and jeans seem like a safe perpetual go-to option)….but these have been analyzed to death.

As for the Ryuzaki persona theory….from what I’ve read and from what evidence I can put together, I find it only partially correct. Excluding the autorial intent (or rather, lack of) from the equation, going completely in-universe and treating fiction as reality….it is true that he acts differently when he is alone, prior to meeting the task force. He stands up straight and sits differently, he even does yoga and meditation to think. But later he slips into this total weirdo of a person…but I think this is highly intentional. I mean, he doesn’t fake his personality when interacting with the task force, he blatantly exaggerates some behaviors, with the purpose of being underestimated, as well as to cover some of his tracks, which people can chalk off to him just being a weirdo. Another thing….I think he has a waaay better understanding of social norms and regulations than people usually give him credit for. I mean, he is not socially awkward, that would amount to making involuntary mistakes out of genuine ignorance of social norms, because one cannot figure out the appropriate response. However, I cannot see him doing that. He is blunt and sarcastic and mean because he’s sort of a jerk when he wants to be… and he has little reason to be otherwise in the little slice of his life we are shown.  

What I believe he truly struggles with is an understanding of emotions  apart from their motivational aspect. We always see him having a very fine understanding of behavior, but he’s always, always asking “why? what are they hoping to achieve? what are they after? what is their purpose?....”  I don’t think he has ever been confronted with the possibility of having someone be kind, nice, affectionate towards him for the simple enjoyment of his company, without being out to get him, or get something from him. He sees people either as neutral entities, or as people who either will hurt him or will use him.  (And I would soo much like to see more of his life outside this particular situation when adrenaline is through the roof both from the chase, the thrill of the game, and from the fact that he is , in fact, in very real mortal danger, much more so than the relatively risk-less situations he has been in in his previous cases.)

What he comes across at first is…extremely self assured, to the point of egomaniac from the point of view of a normal person. But…he HAS to be this way in order to do what he does, he has to over-believe in himself because if he were to second guess himself and waver, he would have self destructed years ago.  At first, he acts  from this higher ground vantage point, allowing himself to even show Light that he was unsure about the action plan, during the initial televised confrontation (how he was like “I…I don’t believe it…I couldn’t believe it until I saw it with my own eyes…”) Then, his choice of words, how he is always using his pronouns well (“Listen to me” instead of just “Listen”, “I want you to…” instead of “Please do…”) he is very assertive about his position of authority.

What I also love is that he’s sooo expressive through body language, especially frustration (fist slam to the floor, clenching fist, gritting his teeth in frustration, throws the stack of papers on the floor, especially before meeting the task force, when he can actually afford such transparency). That fades a little bit later, and is only apparent in him gripping his knees a little more forcefully and (what I imagine, with the help of the voice dub in the anime) slightly colder and more distinnctly pronounced words, these being the ways of conveying. frustration and anger.

However, that’s not the only emotion he is expressing. He is caring and considerate. He refers to the FBI agents as “precious lives”. He acknowledges the integrity of Soichiro Yagami (a man who earns L’s respect and keeps it throughout….)  and allows him the privacy of secrecy over the surveillance footage from his home (and again, as my only concession to the anime, the warmth in his tone when he allowed him this privacy…). He repays transparency with  sincerity - he tells Soichiro that the surveillance period of seven days will not be extended secretly, telling him that he has his word on this…. And you can feel the honesty radiating from him at this point, he's never being a jerk for the sheer hell of it, in a completely undeserved fashion. One can argue about the way he belittles Matsuda, but let’s not forget Matsuda screwed up majorly a few times, and I for one would have been harsher on him than L was, so…. Besides, I do think, as  I said in a previous post, that L actually came to like Matsuda  and was affectionately cruel towards him the way you make life hell for a younger sibling. Which in turn proves (a manner of) attachment from L, he certainly does not see them as pawns.

I love it how he proves himself to be soo far from the image of the recluse genius, working only from behind the comfortable shield of his computer, unable or afraid to face the world outside……no, guys, he is aggressive and decisive, both in his opinions and in his actions, he is dead set from the beginning on having Kira commit a murder in front of him so he’d find out how exactly Kira kills, therefore, being pushy and (almost) reckless in some decisions, he takes the step of actually meeting Light and forcing him to make his next moves….He’s being force-of-nature aggressive….while having this…strange duality between cynicism and idealism where he almost wants to believe in the normalcy of Kira’s psyche, how no one can be so absolutely cruel as to kill someone without batting an eyelash…..

Somehow, I don’t believe for a second that he’s as listless and apathetic as he sometimes wants to appear. There are all these emotions brewing under the surface, barely masked by the “please” politeness, almost like I can see the “go fuck yourself” underneath haha. But there are times when he breaks that stance, for instance when he is confronted with the possibility of the shinigami being real, which disrupts his whole thinking system. That’s what he’s reacting to, to the internal earthquake (which he quickly tries to rationalize away), not out of fear of the supernatural... Also, I love his instinctive spasm of a reaction in the manga, compared to the long-drawn panic mode in the anime (completely out of character and unjustified imo)....

Aand...the reason I fell in love with him oh so many years ago. I mean, not The reason, but the moment where admiration morphed into love. The moment where he basically bled right there, emotionally, for Ukita. Now, I don't see it for one lousy second how Aizawa was abusive in his touch (he was just...having a normal emotional reaction using normal male tools), AND I don't interpret it as aversion to be touched, on L's part, as he is shown to shake hands with Light and such normal human interactions. What's happening here is his desperate attempt to remain in some semblance of control, to not let this whole situation unravel into tragedy (as he actually says, in so many words), not to break down emotionally under the weight of the guilt....for a man whose blood is directly on his hands, as well as the "precious lives" of the FBI agents. He is basically shaking with guilt and sorrow, and, of course, a little fear (he's human after all).

To be continued...

[neuroticreno]

Big fan of your hc about Myron being a vault city citizen, do you wanna share more on it? No biggie if you don't wanna!

you have no idea the beast you have unleashed, anon.

ALRIGHT FAIR WARNING HERE it is. an extremely lengthy explanation and i've been meaning to share it here anyhow :] take this doodle of him as well for a little extra

As a preface, this headcanon is entirely for funsies (and autism). Some bits may seem like a stretch of the imagination, but it's fun to give him some kind of backstory, so take it all as you will.

I use dialogue from Myron's talking head segments, as well as the floating dialogue seen when Myron is in active combat (how canonical the combat dialogue is may be up for debate, but for the sake of this…essay? we'll say it's true).

To start, let us briefly examine Myron's character. Notably, the parts that relate most to this essay.

Myron is intelligent. To give him credit where credit is due, he is smart and thoroughly understands the subjects that he talks about. The people around him know this as well, and remark on it too (mostly at how wasted his potential is). He cares little for the well-being of others, especially slaves, whom he views as objects, and mutants are worth even less to him. He also has a very high opinion of himself, often referring to himself in the third person and boasting about his intellectual capabilities (calling himself a genius, a God, etc. etc).

So, we know he has not lived in New Reno for his entire life, only being there roughly a year or so. As he puts it, he came across the Mordino's way back when, so where was he before that? Just wandering the wastes? Or perhaps coming from another settlement?

Myron, compared to any other companion in the game, mentions Vault City quite a bit. Even more than John Cassidy, who has been tending to a bar outside the Vault City walls for a presumably long time. Though he shares the same distaste that many others do for the city, he also possesses what feels like insider's knowledge that the average wastelander would not have.

A lot of this knowledge presents itself when Myron's intelligence is threatened. If the Chosen One is smart enough, they can engage in a dialogue with Myron and demonstrate to him just how much they know about Jet and its chemical compounds. He will snip at the Chosen One for asking too many questions and interrogate them, asking where they learned all of this stuff anyway. Their understanding of pharmaceuticals is on a similar level to his own, which he may take as them learning it from the same place. Makes sense, considering during combat, Myron will mention he has not been in a fight since the fifth grade. Nowhere else in the game beyond a stray tombstone in Golgotha is any school mentioned or found. One can assume that Vault City would be the only settlement nearby with an established education system, thus reinforcing his belief.

Should the Chosen One pry him about a cure for Jet and suggest endorphin blockers, when asked where they could find such a thing, Myron will suggest Vault City first. He explains they have a 'pretty good' medical warehouse, and laughs when they want to try it as an option, saying they would have more luck getting a radscorpion to part with its tail than getting Vault City to give up anything. The city is widely known for its medical advancements, but Myron could have more of an idea of just how extensive their medical know-how is, having experienced it firsthand. Myron also proclaims that he is a 'natural', 'self-taught', and possesses 'none of that bullshit Vault City 'purer-than-thou' 'tude', which is funny since he spouts off his own 'purer-than-thou' 'tude every time he opens his mouth. Of course, he may have some level of natural intellect, but the rest of it likely stems from an education.

He also remarks that the citizens are a 'Buncha "genetically pure" humans. They got their noses so high in the air they'll drown when it rains'. Again, pretty humorous regarding his own high-and-mighty sense of self.

We can look at his propensity to look down upon slaves/servants. In Vault City, slaves are integrated enough into society to call for a Servant Allocation Center. Where citizens regard them with little to no respect, Myron, having grown up in Vault City, likely followed that ideology, too. The city's negative view of mutants could also explain his own distaste for them.

Myron also makes a lot of Dungeons and Dragons references, which is really just a funny haha 90s pop culture thing at the end of it, but it is fun to imagine that, at some point, he might have had his own little group when he was younger. This bit is just speculation for the sake of entertainment.

All of this raises more questions though; why did he leave? How did he leave? And how did he make it to New Reno without dying on the way there?

As for why he left, we know that Myron does not appreciate being hindered or being told what to do. Working for the Mordino's, he will complain that they only want him to focus on Jet when he wants to make new drugs instead. He complains as well about the lack of respect, so he could have left Vault City for similar reasons. Perhaps his talents were recognized, and he was allowed to experiment more in the field of chemistry. However, Myron could have found Vault City's restrictions less than ideal, giving him the incentive to leave and find somewhere with more creative freedom (he can leave New Reno for the same reasons, anyhow).

How he left and how he got to New Reno is difficult to explain. Myron has virtually no survival skills, and it is a considerable distance from Vault City to New Reno. Hitched a ride with a caravan, maybe? Him managing to escape a settlement covered in laser turrets and guards is also unlikely, but perhaps there was some kind of weakness he was smart enough to exploit and slip through.

Any additional thoughts on this bit would be appreciated :]

[minawritesfanfic]

Backyard Boy Part 3

Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Word Count: 2k+

Summary: School is officially back in session and things are looking great, well we’re looking great. An unexpected reunion at the beginning of class is throwing you for a loop, and it seems you aren’t going to be able to avoid the impending confrontation. But hey pizza with your favorite drummer boy is bound to make you feel better, right..?

Part 3

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Summer came and went faster than I wanted it to but at least it was fun, I was able to split my time evenly between hanging out with Rodrick and Racrn. Racrn is the silly little acronym I came up with using the first letters of everyone's names: Renatta, Alejandro, Cecily, Reese, and Nolan. Apparently, they liked it too, and it ended up sticking as a nickname for the group. It was just an easier way to refer to the group compared to ‘insert someone's name and them’. Lame and obnoxiously wordy.

School finally started up again, in my senior year. In a sorta new town, new friends, new clothes, and a very new me. I walked into the school like I had months before during the last week of school, this was different though. No longer did tension hang heavy in the air from final exams, instead the air was full of life and excitement as students talked through the hallways buzzing with joy and telling their peers the glories or tragedies of their summer break.

I exhaled with a smile, very happy about the changed atmosphere, and made my way through the sea of people to my locker. It was in one of the main school hallways which thankfully wasn’t too crowded at the moment. I opened it and tucked my backpack neatly inside before pulling out some of the locker decorations I’d bought the week before. I lined the inner part of the door with taped-up pictures, one from hangouts with Racrn, pictures of me and Rodrick, and a few cute stickers. I smiled at the sight of my freshly customized locker then grabbed the stuff I’d need for class before shutting and locking my locker.

I headed towards the stairs hoping to make it to my first period in time when I spotted a certain black-haired dork standing off to the side. He talked animatedly to his friends as he twirled a drumstick idly in his hand, he glanced over at me when he presumably felt me staring. He flashed me a grin and I waved and mouthed a ‘Don’t be late to class’ before walking off. I didn’t manage to catch him rolling his eyes before I disappeared up the stairs though.

My first few classes weren’t that bad, it was a bunch of electives since I opted out of most of the classes I already had enough credits for. Except for math, for some stupid reason, I needed to take it. My old school was apparently weird and because I didn’t finish out the secound semester for math I didn’t get the full credit, why or how that is I have no clue. So I buckled in mentally to take another math class, which of course was pre-calculus and my next class.

I walked into the classroom and it was partially empty as there were still three minutes until the bell rang. I smiled seeing Renatta was in class with me nodding along as a blonde girl spoke to her. I waved as I walked over, she waved back and the blonde girl turned to look at me.

“O m g! If it isn’t little ole California Sunshine themself, what on Earth brings you to this side of the world?” Heather fucking Hills said with that same condescending tone and smile on her pretty face.

I forced a smile while sitting down behind Renatta who looked like a deer in headlights, her mouth agape and all, looking between the two of us. I knew I would have a lot of explaining to do later and I was not at all looking forward to it.

“Nice to see you’re still the Same Heather, never thought I’d see you again.”

‘More like I hoped I’d never see you again.’

“I know, but seriously what are you doing here? Didn’t you totally say you’d never leave California, like ever?” She asked, quaking her head to the side, her face etched with fake curiosity and a hint of unease.

“Yeah that was the plan, but there was a pretty bad earthquake that ended up splitting our home in half. My parents were tired of earthquakes and moved us out here to completely avoid them. What are you doing here? I thought you lived in Oregon?”

“Okay, I’m going to cut you guys off right there. How the hell do you two know each other?!” Renatta asked, flabbergasted as she looked back and forth between us, Heather glanced quickly over at me but I didn’t even have to look at her to know what she was feeling.

“We met on a family vacation, she was in the room next to mine and we just ended up.. hanging out,” I said with a shrug and Heather just looked me up and down before turning away.

“Hanging out is a bit of an overstatement, but whatever.”

Renatta looked ready to ask more questions but as the bell rang, Mr. Lanaski began class giving her no opportunity to. I knew that this would only be a temporary measure though, as I had lunch with the whole Racrcn group next period. I slumped back into my chair and absently listened to the teacher as he gave us a rundown of how his class would be, it was even worse with me receiving knowing looks from both Renatta and Heather. Who I would also probably have to talk too soon, and I had no idea how that conversation would go.

★ ✮ ★

The bell rings and both girls try and drag me away with them out of the class, they cast glares at each other while everyone else is quickly filling out of the classroom. I managed to break free from their grasp but the looks on both their faces told me that I’d regret even trying to leave, I just started to pack my things as they argued about who gets to talk to me first.

“They were my friend before they were yours!” Heather huffs crossing her arms.

“I thought you guys barely even hung out, besides don’t you have a class to go to? We’re headed to lunch.” Renatta snapped back flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Oh really? That’s perfect, we’re all friends, yeah, so I’ll join you at your lunch table.”

“Oh, absolutely not!-“ Renatta began but I immediately opted out of sitting with Heather AND Racrn at one lunch table, before either of them could react I grabbed my stuff and bolted out of the classroom.

Thankfully the hallway was still crowded so I could blend in and quickly get away, once I felt safe I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I headed to my locker ready to drop off my stuff and spend lunch anywhere but the library when I felt someone blow on the back of my neck and whisper.

“Boo.” I jumped and slammed my locker shut, I turned slowly praying it wasn’t Heather or Renatta but thankfully it was just Rodrick.

“Jeez Rodrick, don't do that! You scared the ever-loving shit outta me!” I said with a heavy sigh and leaned back against my locker while Rodrick stepped back his hands in the air to surrender.

“Sorry, sorry! I couldn’t resist, anyways where are you headed next?”

“I have lunch right now but I’m definitely not going to that cafeteria, for a number of reasons.”

“Perfect, cuz I was wondering if you would be down to skip the rest of school with me. It’s all just boring ass-“

I didn’t even let him finish trying to convince me, “Yes! I mean yeah, let’s cut school. Nothing important I’m going to miss out on, let’s go.”

He was a bit surprised by how readily I agreed but rolled with it, he led me out of the school to where his van was parked then we peeled out of the parking lot. I let out a relieved sigh as I watched the school grow smaller in the rearview mirror, though I could see Rodrick eyeing me curiously out of the corner of my eye.

“So… what do you want to go and do?”

“You asked me to ditch and didn’t even have a plan to do anything?”

“I didn’t expect to get that far okay! I figured you’d be a stick in the mud and I’d just have to ask Ben to skip with me.” I just laughed and shook my head.

“Fine, since I’m skipping lunch let’s go grab something to eat then we could hang out at my place. How’s that sound?”

“You had me at lunch.” He said with a grin speeding off to the nearest fast food joint.

★ ✮ ★

We ended up splitting a pizza, Rodrick ate on the floor while I sat in a bean bag chair I’d recently gotten. Rodrick talked on and on all, while he ate, I was perfectly content on just half listening and trying to be grossed out that he talked while he ate. I was kind of lost in my own head, trying to figure out what to do. I glanced over at my phone and sat on my bed, I was not looking forward to the dozens of calls I likely already had from Renatta.

“- and then he turned into an alien and kidnapped me… Dude, are you even listening?” Rodrick said and I snapped my gaze down to him, nodding quickly.

“Uh huh yeah, an alien guy kidnapped you- no I’m sorry I wasn’t at all. Just start again from the party I’m listening to now.” He shook his head and sat up, taking another slice of pizza.

“Nah it’s not that important, talk to me. You’ve seemed out of it since we left school, what’s up?” He took a bite out of his pizza and gestured for me to talk, I let out a heavy sigh and sunk deeper into the bean bag chair.

“My entire world kinda just flipped on its axis? I mean it’s not that huge of a deal but maybe I’m minimizing it cuz if I do start thinking it’s that big of a deal I might just die on the spot. But uh so you know how I lived in Cali, right? I was on vacation in a different town there and met this girl, we bonded over some stuff and became really close. Well turns out she goes to our school and is kind of friends with Renatta, both of whom really want to talk to me. And I’m just not ready for it.” I paused letting some of that sink in as I finished the rest of my slice of pizza before going for another one.

“When do you think you’ll be ready to talk to them?”

“I don’t really know to be honest, I don’t even know what to say to either of them. But I can’t talk to one without talking to the other, and I can’t even talk to anyone about what we need to talk about. Which would easily explain how we know each other, just ugh I might just drop out.” I groaned and angrily took a bite out of my pizza as I stared up at my ceiling, Rodrick stayed silent for a moment thinking about what I said.

“Well you have to talk to them eventually, but they’ll both have to accept that that will only happen on your own time. So just like let them know that and take it slow. If they’re even worth your time they’ll understand and wait until you’re ready, especially if it’s important.” He said in between mouthfuls, though his words resonated with me.

He was right, I didn’t have to explain and talk about everything right now. Heather’s cool but she knows how much I have at stake here too and should understand where I’m coming from, and Renatta is still a newish friend and shouldn’t expect me to relay every little detail of my life to her.

“Thanks, Rodrick, that was really helpful. I don’t owe either of them an explanation or my time right now. You really rock dude.” I said with a smile feeling a little bit better.

But then the doorbell rang, again and again and again. I jumped shocked by the incessant ringing, Rodrick looked as surprised as I was and got up. He went into the hallway and peered through the blinds out the window before coming back into the room.

“By any chance.. was that girl you met on vacation Heather Hills?” He asked wide-eyed as he held the door frame, I nodded and stood shakily.

I could tell her that we would talk later, it would be simple enough right? It’s not like we left off on bad terms, we left off on great ones, right? No amount of reassurance seemed to work as I descended the stairs and made my way to the front door, the doorbell still ringing loudly through the house. But the closer I got the more clearly I could hear her yelling, I took a deep breath and opened the door. She was mid-doorbell press and all of Racrn stood behind her, all of them equally confused and loving the drama.

“Uhm Hi…?”

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[sonkitty]

Crowley S2 Hair Post #22

(For reference: The Sideburns Scheme)

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 2, The Clue, so were the goats

...

Hairstyle Notes

The red hair is not as fluffy and a little longer compared to the earlier minisode portion that started off the episode.

This style is what most closely resembles a "human" reading with short sideburns from the season 2 present day. Crowley is with two humans and no supernatural beings. The humans assume he is human during the scene.

Even though it's the accessory on the head, even the headband itself changed with its appearance in the back. While that looks to be a continuity issue, it's good to keep in mind that Crowley can control his own appearance so is likely mixing this headband appearance with the reading from the space.

...

Earthly Objects

(For reference: Earthly Objects)

Job sits on the ground against some rocks. Sitis touches her own clothing.

Crowley likely receives credit for a miracle touch on a human when he says, "You tell me," and hisses at Sitis. This action looks like compelling someone for an answer though that answer is something Sitis herself decides. The name, "Bildad the Shuhite" is then said.

That name is his alias for these two. It's a human name from the Book of Job itself, and it's going to be reused later when he has this same hairstyle. While these circumstances are understandable in the context they happen, it's also a clue about the potential rule that Crowley isn't allowed to say his own name for any time period during the entirety of Good Omens 2.

Crowley has several questions when first talking to Job. Job says Sitis' name. They both say "God," in a way that I think qualifies as a name.

It's hard to really see much in the way of pockets. Everyone's separated and contained in their own cuts for most of the scene.

While Job and Sitis occasionally make pockets, those pockets are small and hard to notice to begin with. Their thumb joints do suspiciously align with edges of their clothing at times even though the Tied Hands aren't around.

Crowley's headband is like his substitute Belt Head at least. Sitis also wears something over her head.

Crowley still has the threads on his robe making pockets over his chest for where his Tied Hands would be.

When Crowley turns to show his back to the camera, then shows his front again, he does receive some extra lighting over the part of his chest exposed, before his beard covers it. He receives lighting generally in that area sometimes, and it's where the upper portion of his Tied Hands would be in the present day.

There's one cut with Job on the ground and Crowley standing, so a pocket generally exists between them though it doesn't seem to do anything special. There's another cut with Sitis pocketed between Job still sitting and Crowley still standing. Again, it doesn't seem to do anything special either.

For my tangential reading in my desperate attempt to improve my play, I finished The Sandman Volume 3. I'm still re-reading the Good Omens book.

...

Story Commentary

From the last scene, the story greatly implied that this part of the minisode is from Crowley's point of view. Aziraphale isn't around, and Crowley himself received stronger focus from the camera work.

When Crowley is talking to Job, the lighting on him is darker and favors his left.

When Sitis arrives, the lighting shifts. It then favors Crowley's right. With more light on him, his hair looks more red. After that, the hair generally stays as more red and favoring his right, regardless of the camera angle.

In trying to study the space and understand what's happening with the hair, the camera work ensures it is known that the space still has a roof—or at least roof edges—of a human-built structure, even if it is damaged and with an open threshold. Light pours in, presumably from that damage.

Crowley is not giving off the impression of someone secretly trying to save goats and children here. Without knowing how the minisode ends, the goats seem "destroyed", and now he's after the children.

Things don't look good. Well, things don't look good for people like Job, Sitis, and Aziraphale. Hell would be rather pleased.

Crowley expects Job to be furious with God and says so.

But Job isn't furious with God. He's furious with himself.

Then comes the main hint of Crowley's sympathy from the questions, "Yourself? Why, what have you done?" Then he looked like he wanted to say something more to Job's answer, but they were interrupted with Sitis' arrival.

We'll get a glimpse of Crowley's real scheme for this minisode in the next scene.

...

That's it for this post. Sometimes I edit my posts, FYI.

...

Before the next post in this series, I am going to take some time to review things for The Pocket Trick that I'm hopefully starting to piece together and may update the main Sideburns Scheme post as well.

...

Main post:

The Sideburns Scheme