#i always try to understand or explain things through metaphor

[happiest-hotch]

The Brink of Collapse

Summary: Aaron and reader have been on the brink of divorce for a long time. And then suddenly he's there, and feelings come to a head.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: very angsty, talk of divorce, mentions of strippers

It's been an odd month.

Surreal, in some ways.

You and Aaron have been on the brink of divorce for a while, but once you finally said the word, everything changed. It opened up a new world of feelings and even more hurt.

It didn't seem possible to feel more hurt, but here you are, sitting on the couch, feet tucked beside you, and a glass of wine on the coffee table. You need it for your nighttime reading, the first draft of a separation agreement, your and Aaron's full names on the top.

It feels like physical proof that you and Aaron have failed. Every sacrifice that was made in the decade you had been together wasn't enough. All the love in the world wasn't enough.

It hits you in a deeper place in your chest than you knew existed, and it makes breathing difficult.

Those papers are a taunt you've been putting off confronting, but it's time. It's something you have to do.

Your eyes gloss over the words, but you catch yourself slipping into a defense strategy where your name is removed from you, and it's a draft divorce settlement of detached clients.

"Late-night reading?" His voice makes you jump, startled by his appearance in front of you.

You had spaced out, thought he escaped through the front door to avoid whatever this awkward situation could be categorized as. You find yourself wishing that he did as he looks at you, trying to profile your thoughts. Dick.

You're both trying to keep life somewhat normal for the children, not wanting them to be caught up in your mess which means when he's in DC, he picks them up for the day and drops them back home. You just thought he'd leave out the front door rather than come across the house to talk to you.

"It's not that late." You reply. "Do you actually want to do this?" You're not sure why you ask, not when it's going to hurt.

"Do what, Ms. L/n?" Aaron asks, but he knows. He walks behind the couch and into the kitchen, taking the open bottle of wine and pouring himself a glass without invitation.

"Get divorced." You answer before adding something you probably shouldn't since there's no need. "I'm still technically Mrs. Hotchner."

He doesn't chuckle at your quip, but he looks close. "You wouldn't be holding that if we didn't." Carefully chosen words, as expected. "I've always loved that part of your name."

You scoff, shaking your head. "That's a conflicting message."

Aaron shrugs, sitting down on the couch next to you. You kind of wish he hadn't. He could have just gone back to wherever he's staying and you wouldn't have to do this metaphorical dance.

"They're not mutually exclusive." He explains. You try to keep a neutral expression, but it's hard to hear that your soon-to-be ex-husband likes that you have the same surname. "I love the name, doesn't mean we can't get divorced."

"I won't be Mrs. Hotchner then." You remind him, but you keep it lighthearted in tone.

The air is getting too grave and when things get too grave, you both say too much. It's painful conversation, of late. No more 'I love you's and bleeding heart promises of fixing it. You both know you're beyond repair so you talk about that, and it's getting depressing.

He shrugs. "Not necessarily. Plenty of women keep the name after divorce."

Divorce.

That dirty word that's become your reality.

"I've not considered it." You confess. It seems easier to be honest about something little. "Would it bother you? If I kept it?"

He waits a beat, staring into the semi-opaque wine. "No. Not in the slightest."

"I feel it could get real awkward." You admit and he frowns, not understanding what you mean. "When someone says, 'Oh, are you related to Aaron Hotchner' and I have to say, 'Yeah, he's my ex-husband.' I mean, you know half this town."

Aaron considers it for a second, that thoughtful frown on his brows. "I hadn't considered it." Obviously. "You have my blessing if you keep it."

You chuckle humorlessly. "Thanks."

"This whole thing doesn't have to be adversarial." He reminds you, but it's not condescending. He's almost smiling, lips tugging up at the corners.

Your eyes narrow at him. "Have I done something to make this feel adversarial?"

It's snider than it needs to be, but he comes back professionally. "No. But I've seen couples in our situation start arguing, even yelling, at every step."

You snort out a laugh. "The life of divorce attorneys, right?" He's telling it like you don't know like you're not still in the job he left for the FBI. You bite your bottom lip, considering whether to drive the conversation in a different direction, and come to the conclusion that it might make the conversation lighter and with it, stop the clenching feeling of your heart. "Do you still remember the Beamounts?"

He laughs louder than you've heard in a while. That does the trick and gives you a quick breath of relief, but it's gone as soon as it's there. "I couldn't forget it." He assures you. "Do you still have her little card? The one you kept in your wallet?"

You're almost giddy listening to him laugh, and it makes you giggle as you recall it. "Yes! She ran those exotic dance clubs, I remember. I'm still not sure if I'm offended she gave me the card… like, I can't work out if she thought I might be interested and would want to come watch, or if she thought I'd like to leave seven years of school and a law career behind to strip."

"Do you want me to take care of that card? It's been in there for what? Twelve years?"

His offer throws you a little, but your reaction comes out as teasing. "Oh, do you need her card? Now that we're about to be divorced?"

"I certainly don't." Unsurprising, he has no trouble with women. "But I do want to preserve your wallet's purity."

"I think she gave me the non-explicit version." You explain to him. "I'm sure there are some racy ones out there for guys that are into that stuff..." Something prompts you to push it further. "Like you."

Aaron laughs again, and you get another breath. "Very occasionally." He assures you.

"There's photographic evidence, Aaron." You remind him, smiling softly at the photos Morgan showed you of some BAU boys' nights out. Aaron looked so uncomfortable, and you're sure he spent the entire evening refusing to look at any woman's assets. It makes your stomach churn knowing that, if the situation arises again, he won't act the same way. "Unfortunately, good old Mrs. Beamount is spoken for these days, so I guess the card has no use to you."

He hits you with something you don't expect, although maybe you should have since it's in line with your mutual reminiscing. "That was the first time we met. Just baby lawyers thrown into the craziest case."

"I remember laughing with you about how ridiculous it was." The first time you laughed together about that, you breathed deeper than you ever have before. "Do you remember the thing with the dog?"

He snorts with laughter. It's probably not meant to be as attractive a sound as it is. "That damn chihuahua he insisted was possessed? I remember being so annoyed because I knew the dog couldn't be possessed. I kept asking myself what I'd done so wrong in my life that I had a client expecting me to argue it." Hearing his thoughts now is different than just laughing about back then. "Then when we got there, the damn animal was barking and growling in a demonic way. That was the weirdest thing I've ever seen in my life. It was possessed."

The passion with how he talks about a damn dog makes you smile. "Now imagine everyone seeing that and having to argue it wasn't demonic." You remind him of what your position was as his opposing counsel. "I felt so ridiculous arguing it. And she wanted the divorce settlement to include him taking it to the groomer." You shake your head disapprovingly at the memory. "It creeped me out that she kept it in her purse. That was the ugliest dog I'd ever seen."

It's odd to be laughing with him, considering your precarious relationship circumstances, and even odder that it's about the first case. Surely it should be about what Eden said today, bonding over your kids seems less intimate than talking about when you met.

"I remember she even tried to make herself look more motherly and nurturing in court, by taking care of it during the proceedings." He continues.

It's like you're watching the whole thing again, but you know how it ends. "I was just praying she wouldn't start breastfeeding it." You say. "Her boobs were so plastic that I think if she put that rabid dog near them, he'd chew them."

Aaron loses it laughing, clearly seeing the mental image that worried you 12 years ago. "Okay, okay, that's enough." He finally manages to get out.

You finish off the laughter, letting it die down rather than continuing the conversation.

"What did you think of me?" He asks, a surprising tangent. "When we first met?"

You know he knows since it had been discussed it a few times between dating and marriage, wanting to reminisce. Why he's asking now, you're not sure, and why you're answering, you're even less sure.

"I thought you were a jerk." You admit.

He laughs, but he's thinking about whether you think that again now. "Yeah?" He prompts you to go on.

"That's what happens when you arrive at a mediation meeting five minutes late with Ferrari keys." You remind him with the same disapproving frown.

You can still remember when he walked into the big boardroom, dressed in a perfectly fitted dark blue suit with his hair longer than it is now and parted down the middle. Compared to now, he looked so young, just 25 and straight out of law school, not having seen the most awful parts of the world. He's different now. His shoulder bag switched out for a briefcase being the most minor change.

When he walked into the room that first day, you were equally as pissed off by and attracted to him. It's full circle that you feel that way again.

"I had to find parking." He reasons.

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "You didn't valet your car?"

"After the Ferrari, things were tight," Aaron says, but it's a joke. You both know he has money, the separation agreement dividing your assets wouldn't be so long if neither of you had money. "What about after that?" He asks. Sadistic or masochistic, you're not sure. It hurts you to relieve it in your memory, but is it hurting him?

"I was leaving that meeting. As fast as I could, of course." You pause for his laughter. "And you were already in the elevator." It hurts to recall, just like you expected. "I wondered if I should join you."

You still wonder now, if you made the right decision that day. On one hand, you'd have none of the good memories, but on the other, you wouldn't feel like your chest was clenching and your heart was threatening to shatter with each breath.

You decide to keep telling the story. "And I did. And you made me laugh, right off the bat, both of us giggling about the ridiculousness of our clients."

"Not very professional." He notes with a smirk. "Opposing counsel gossiping about their clients."

Your eyebrows pull together in a frown. "Why'd you make the first joke then?"

He wants to tell you it's because he needed to make you laugh, just to hear it and see you smile. His fear takes over and he settles for a quip. "I mean, you looked uptight, but I could tell you weren't."

Your scoff is accompanied by you hitting his shoulder, both of you laughing and it suddenly hits you that you're flirting with him.

It must hit him too because what he says is out of left field. "Part of me wonders if the reason you're only just looking at that is because, on some level, you're hoping we'll fix things and get back together." Fuck! Aaron has always been a straight shooter, but that was far too much honesty.

You gulp, the saliva in your mouth drying up. "Hey, let's just not go there, okay?" You offer. It's not a conversation you want to be having. Your mixed emotions coupled with his ability to push you, it's not a good combination.

"Sure." He admits, but his tone suggests he's unhappy, and so does his sigh. You're begging him with your eyes not to push it, to leave the house and the conversation, and not make it awkward and hurtful. "I never wanted this to be an argument. Do you know that? I know I've never been great at communicating and all this, but I've always tried to do the best for you, always tried to... I mean, I've never gotten divorced before, so I'm still feeling out the right way to do it."

You're not impressed he's lying through his teeth. Both of you know he didn't "always" do his best at communicating. Those last few months, he barely spoke to you. In fact, this conversation might contain more words than an entire few months.

And is there a "right way" to get divorced? You don't know, but you wish you could stop picking apart everything he's saying, overanalyzing.

You're caught on the first statement. "This isn't an argument, is it?"

"I guess not, but there's a vibe." He points out. "Maybe I'm being hypersensitive. Listen, I know this is hard. I think we both knew this probably wasn't going to be the easiest thing, right?"

You avert your gaze from him, a few tears welling in your eyes. "Yeah, we knew that."

"Hey, look at me." He implores.

You tilt your head to the ceiling, trying to stop crying before you start.

"If you're not ready to do this, then please just talk to me." He says- begs. "Please talk to me."

It's ironic really, him sitting there begging you to talk to him when formerly, it's been you doing the begging for him to share his feelings with you. An embarrassing amount of begging, really.

"Please don't do this." You beg back. "I'm not interested in the idea of being vulnerable in front of you, okay?"

He sighs a bit, hands falling to his side. The look on his face you can read. He's upset about not being able to comfort you, and he's begging himself not to show it. What the fuck does that mean?

"Fine." He agrees. "It's... I don't think I ever fully realized how much this whole thing would hurt, but I'm seeing it now."

You don't thank him sarcastically for being obvious. It's twisted that he's spilling his emotions now, and it's hard not to be resentful about it. If he had just fucking talked to you when you begged him to every night in your last month together, you wouldn't be here. It's too little, too late.

"I guess." You agree. "We'll just get it over with."

It stings his heart, so he stings you back. Whether it's intentional or on reaction, you can't tell. "Maybe you're right and we should get it drafted and signed so we can be finished as soon as possible." But, most surprisingly, he flip-flops. "I miss you, Y/n."

It's the same rollercoaster of emotions that your brain is riding in your head, but at least you're not saying it out loud and confusing the shit out of him. "Don't say that, Aaron." You warn him.

He has the nerve to be surprised by your harsh tone. "...what? It's just a fact. I miss you. Why is that bad to say?"

"Because I missed you for four months while you had one foot out the door of this marriage." You finally snap.

Aaron looks stunned and it only makes you angrier and more upset. "I know," He tells you.

He knows, but he'd never do anything about it. You try to act casual, taking a deep breath. "Okay." You attempt to leave it at that.

He won't let the conversation go. "I should have fought for us."

"You still can." You're not sure why you say it, but you do. Maybe you give him one last chance because you'll regret it forever if you don't.

"I am more in love with you than I have ever been." He bursts out, unable to help himself given the chance.

It makes your heart soar and your eyes water. You sit there silently, wrapping your arms around yourself tightly like it might protect you.

"I never should have put you in a position where you felt like something was wrong with us." Aaron looks at you so sincerely that you can't help the tears running down your cheeks. "It got to a point where I felt like I couldn't fix it so I didn't try, and I'm aware that was the wrong choice every day."

"I don't know what to say." You tell him. "Why bother coming to this conclusion, and telling me about it, when it's too late?" Maybe you're protecting yourself more than you need to be.

Aaron shakes his head. "Because it isn't."

"Aaron." You shake your head, holding up the literal divorce papers that exist to remind him. "So much has happened in the last four months."

"Not too much, though." He emphasizes.

He's pushing a button that makes your emotions boil over. "I don't even know where you're sleeping." You remind him firmly.

"Holy shit, Y/n!" Aaron's quick to assure you of what might have been going on in your head. "No." He pauses. "I'm sleeping at my office." You can't say that doesn't relieve you. "You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on. Since the day I met you, I've never looked at anyone the same."

His strong assurances make you cry more. "I don't know if we can fix this." You admit, disappointed in yourself.

"We absolutely can." He pleads to you. "You said we should get a divorce because love isn't enough to make this better, but there is more than love here. I am committed to you and I want to fix this."

You continue your tears and he reaches out to touch your cheek, wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb. You lean into his soft touch. "I do too." You admit, the realization alleviating some of the aching in your chest.

"You mean the world to me," Aaron tells you firmly. "I will do anything to get us back on track. I wasn't before and I know I was stupid for it, but I'm listening, Y/n. To everything you need and want."

"I think we need help." You confess. "Like professional help."

He can't nod fast enough. "I agree. We can get that."

You stop him before he can pull out his phone. "Tomorrow." You request. "I just want a hug."

He hasn't had you in his arms in far too long, and he reaches out for you. You lay on his chest, letting him wrap his arms around you.

"Wow, I've missed you." He hums, breathing out a deep sigh of relief.

You sniffle your tears, nodding in agreement. "Me too."

"Y/n, I will never let it get this far again," Aaron assures you. "I was stupid and I can't lose you. I love you."

You're sure you feel the same way. Everything definitely wasn't fixed and there was a lot to do, but one thing you're sure about is being married to Aaron Hotchner. "I love you too."

[ayumigotabittoolonelyquitted]

L ⁠♡ve stinks (literally)

Synonsis : how did the argument between them turned into "I need to survive helpp"

Characters : gojo Satoru, ryomen sukuna, geto suguru, nanami kento.

Requests are open babes!

Gojo Satoru

The argument had escalated to a level neither of you had expected. It wasn’t playful banter, not one of those dumb little fights that ended in laughter. No, this was serious.

Gojo stood across the room, arms crossed, his usual carefree expression long gone. His jaw was tight, his brows furrowed, and his glasses were pushed up into his messy white hair. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, voice sharp. “You never do.”

You felt your stomach twist, but your pride wouldn’t let you back down. “And whose fault is that?” you shot back. “You don’t explain anything, Gojo. You just expect me to read your mind!”

His nostrils flared as he scoffed. “Maybe because every time I try, you just-”

Brrraaaapppppppppp.

The noise was violent, like a firecracker going off in a tin can. Your eyes widened in horror as the scent hit you like a physical force.

But before you could react-

BBBBRRRRRMMMMMPPPPPPTT!!

Gojo’s fart followed immediately after, just as loud, just as catastrophic. The room fell into stunned silence as the combined stench spread like a cursed technique gone horribly wrong.

You and Gojo stared at each other, mouths slightly open, argument completely forgotten. The air was thick, literally and metaphorically.

Then, Gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive, gagged. “Oh my god—WHAT is that smell?”

You staggered backward, waving your hand in front of your nose. “Did something die inside you?!”

Gojo coughed dramatically, hands on his knees. “This is a biological weapon—call the higher-ups, I think I just committed a crime.”

You gasped for fresher air, eyes watering. “We—We need to evacuate.”

Gojo groaned. “I can’t breathe—my infinity isn’t even working against this!”

The argument was long forgotten. The only thing that mattered now was survival. You both scrambled for the nearest window, shoving at each other as if the other was the source of the disaster.

Gojo got there first, flinging it open and sticking his head out. “I can still taste it,” he whined, voice muffled by the wind.

You collapsed onto the floor, weak from laughing and lack of oxygen. “I hate you so much.”

Gojo turned around, grinning despite the devastation. “See? That’s something you do understand.”

The air might have been rancid, but in that moment, all was forgiven.

Nanami Kento

Nanami never lost his temper. He was always the calm, rational one. But tonight, something in him snapped.

“You are impossible,” he seethed, hands clenched at his sides. His usual composed demeanor had shattered, and you could feel the frustration radiating off of him.

“Oh, I’m impossible?” you shot back, voice rising. “Maybe if you stopped acting like you know everything, we wouldn’t be having this argument!”

Nanami’s jaw tightened. “Because I do know better. Unlike you, I think before I act.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Oh, go to hell.”

“I’m already there,” he muttered under his breath.

The tension was suffocating. Neither of you was backing down. You glared at each other, breaths heavy, the heat of the argument filling the room.

And then, it happened.

BBBBBBRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTT!!!!

The sound was cataclysmic. An earth-shaking, soul-shattering eruption that ripped through the air like a divine punishment.

The room went dead silent.

You stared at Nanami.

Nanami stared at you.

Then-

BBBBRRRRAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTT!!!!

Your fart followed immediately after—equally as monstrous. The sheer force of it sent a shiver down your spine. It was like your souls had synchronized in mutual destruction.

The air turned thick with something vile. Something demonic. The scent was unholy.

Nanami’s eyes widened in sheer horror.

“This… this is my lowest point,” he whispered.

You choked on the stench, gripping the wall for support. “Nanami… what the hell did you eat?”

His face was blank. Hollow. He had seen many horrors in his life, but nothingnothingcompared to this.

“I need to leave,” he murmured, turning mechanically toward the door. “I can’t stay here.”

But as he moved—

BBBBBBBBPPPPPPRRRRTTTTT!!!

Another one.

Nanami froze.

You screamed.

And that was the day Kento Nanami truly lost his will to live.

Geto suguru

Suguru Geto was many things - intelligent, composed, a man of conviction. But right now, he was just pissed off.

“I can’t believe you sometimes,” he muttered, rubbing his temples as he glared at you.

“Oh, please,” you snapped. “You act like you’re so above it all, but you’re just as stubborn as me.”

Suguru exhaled sharply, arms crossed. “I’m not stubborn. I just don’t see the point in arguing with someone who refuses to listen.”

Your jaw clenched. “And I don’t see the point in arguing with someone who thinks they’re always right!”

The tension was suffocating. The air was thick with frustration, neither of you willing to back down. Suguru ran a hand through his hair, clearly done with the entire situation.

And then.

BBBBBBRRRRRRAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTT!!!!

The sound tore through the silence like a cursed technique gone horribly wrong. A deep, rumbling detonation that shook the very foundation of the room.

Suguru’s eyes went wide.

Your breath hitched in pure, unfiltered horror.

But before either of you could react-

BBBBRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPTTTTTTT!!!

Another one.

This time, from you.

Suguru stared. His pupils dilated. His soul left his body.

The scent hit like a physical blow. The room was no longer safe.

“Oh my god—” you gasped, covering your mouth. “What have we done?!”

Suguru took a single step back, face blank with despair. “This… this is my villain origin story.”

You choked, eyes watering. “No, seriously, what the hell did you eat? That—that’s not normal!”

Suguru, a man who had faced curses beyond comprehension, looked utterly defeated. “I don’t know,” he whispered, voice hollow.

Silence.

Then, from the doorway-

“You two are disgusting,” manami deadpanned, covering her,nose.

Suguru didn’t even have the strength to argue. He just stared at the ceiling, questioning every life choice that led him to this moment.

Ryomen sukuna

Sukuna had never been challenged like this before. He had razed villages, slaughtered thousands, and struck fear into the hearts of even the strongest sorcerers. But right now? Right now, he was in a deadly battle - with you.

“I don’t serve you,” you snarled, glaring up at him.

Sukuna sneered, leaning against his throne. “You should. You’re weak, pathetic, and completely beneath me.”

Your fists clenched. “Then why do you even keep me around, huh? If I’m so ‘pathetic,’ why not kill me already?”

The air was thick with cursed energy, the tension suffocating. Neither of you backed down, locked in a furious stare-off, hatred crackling between you like a storm-

And then it happened.

BBBBBBRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!

The ground shook. The sheer force of the explosion reverberated through the throne room, rattling the very walls. It was deep, monstrous, almost inhuman-

And it came from Sukuna.

Your eyes widened.

Sukuna froze.

The scent hit immediately. It was vile. Cursed. An abomination of nature itself.

You had no time to react - because you suddenly felt it too.

BBBBBRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!

An equally horrifying detonation erupted from you. The two sounds overlapped in a cataclysmic symphony of disgrace.

The air was thick with something demonic. The cursed spirits outside the domain wailed in agony, their forms flickering from the sheer toxicity of the atmosphere.

Sukuna stood there, horrified. His four eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open, as if he couldn’t comprehend what had just occurred.

You slapped a hand over your nose and gagged. “Oh my—what the hell—”

Sukuna stared at you. No. He glared. Like you had just personally offended him.

“You dare match my power?” he hissed, voice dark and dangerous.

You coughed violently. “I—Sukuna, we need to leave, it’s not safe here anymore—”

His face twisted into utter disgust. “I have slaughtered thousands, consumed the strongest sorcerers alive, and yet—” he gagged, his voice weakening—“I have never faced something like this.”

For the first time in history, the King of Curses took a step back.

And that’s how you won the greatest battle of all time.

[thebardbullseye]

The Thesis of Citadel Wizardry

I have been banging my head against the metaphorical wall for a while now trying to figure out what it is about Wizardry and the Lingua Arcana that resonates with me deeply. It goes far beyond the set dressing of the story (which I also love deeply). It is the core, fundamental idea of What Wizardry Is.

Wizardy in Umora is IRL philosophy and metaphysics: which are concerned with the study of the fundamental nature of reality and knowledge. (NB: there are many ways To Know outside of formal philosophy education.)

Wizards are the only Intelligence based casters in D&D, and in Umoran history did not exist until a couple hundred years ago. There is a lot to be said about what that means wrt Empire and the imagery and consequences of that, which are beyond the scope of this post.

Three concepts emerged in the founding of Wizardry: the Lingua Arcana (language of magic), one specific kind of magic: Conjuration (helpfully also a school of magic in D&D), and the idea of the Greater Binding and the Binding of Spirits. Why these three ideas in particular and what do they mean for the Philosophy of Wizardry?

Wizardry is to take that which is Formless of Spirit and thus unknowable, to give it Form, to give it meaning and understanding. To Summon it, to Conjure it, and to Bind it to the Real, yet also to Know and Understand its Nature.

Citadel Wizardry is to give it a Name, to add to Language in order to further define, refine, restrict, control, and diminish it from its Unknowable and Formlessness. To Bind a Great Spirit is to Know and Understand something Great.

Citadel Wizardry was combined with and furthered through Empire, and this has brought about great harm to the Spirit and knowledge-gathering itself.

(NB: much of "modern" science is deeply entwined with the imperialistic and colonialist tendencies due to the historical foundations upon which it was built. IMO, science/bio-"ethics" does not do enough to recognize nor address this fundamental problem. This is a much more complicated idea than can be untangled here, but I thought it worth mentioning as an IRL parallel.)

So, this begs the question: Does knowing this damn the pursuit of knowledge obtained through imperial means to always be harmful? Remember to be wary of questions that provoke binary responses.

Instead, there is a better question to ask: How do you, as an individual, right the wrongs of a broken system? Look at Suvi as a character and at her story. It is plain as day. Clearly written in the Sky.

Here's the common thing among the many different ways To Know and Understand: there are some things that you know and understand both deeply and innately but cannot put into words. Perhaps these are one's values or philosophies or ideals; whatever you call them, these things are Formless. But there are some things that you understand facets or pieces of that you name and point at to be able explain and bring about and manifest that deeper understanding. There is connective tissue here; this idea that Reality is simultaneously and paradoxically made up of individuals and groups (particles, atoms, molecules, chemicals, organs, people, groups, (eco)systems, the world, the universe), and that reality is Beyond Number; it is both Formed and Formless.

This is why it has taken 46 episodes and as many or more hours to take the implicit and make it explicit in this thesis of the show. It must have the slow, methodical study, space, and time to breathe: to examine and understand the facets of the diamond, all of the moving parts, to see the shape of the diamond itself, and to stop the machine of war.

[darklinaforever]

When people try to say that the whole Orlok thing about Ellen's consent is a big joke (in the negative sense) because he actually forced her with an ultimatum and the whole relationship was therefore always forced (stupid rape metaphor, you know)... Well these people clearly don't get it. Think about it, the covenant can only be done with Ellen's consent, which can't be stolen. If Ellen unites with Orlok at the end by being forced by Orlok, it doesn't make sense, because it couldn't be done. Orlok tells Ellen when she first refuses him that she is false and that she has denied herself, just as he explains in the scene before that it was not "him" in her body crawling like a snake but her nature which is the same as his (yet another thing that uneducated people will see as the metaphor of rape). Ellen by refusing Orlok the first time was false and denied herself. In the end, by finally agreeing to give herself to Orlok, she is sincere, she is herself and accepts herself through this union with Orlok. This is what people refuse to understand. Ellen's consent was not stolen by Orlok. She wanted it. Truly. That's the goal. But it's something she had to understand and accept for herself first. Accepting that there is this darkness in her (linked to passion, all that, which is reprehensible and demonized in this Victorian society where she lives). The only thing that Orlok really forces in this scenario, well it is to force Ellen, certainly, but not really to be his, but rather for her to finally accept herself, accept who she is, her nature, that she is true and not false. It's a good thing, not a bad thing symbolically speaking. Therefore, if she was false in refusing, well she is true in accepting. And no, it's not according to Orlok's point of view which would be wrong according to the antis that I say that. Orlok is literally a part of Ellen. This part of herself that she doesn't accept. He's not just a vampire obsessed with her ready to do anything to have her. He is this part that she refuses to accept in herself, and he tries, by a form of force certainly, to find his rightful place. That she welcomes him again, and therefore above all that she finally accepts herself completely in the process. Basically, Orlok just confronted Ellen with herself. And by doing completely accepts herself, abandon this restrictive society in which she lives and which has restricted her.

[lesbiautist]

Nadja, Autism, & Womanhood (aka, me using the writers woman allergy to project on Nadja)

Ok here’s the highly demanded (by one person) Nadja autism + womanhood analysis. Before I start, I wanna note that I’m a rambly bitch. This whole post is basically me just putting down thoughts and loosely stringing them together. I don’t know if this will be coherent. I have Really Big Thoughts on characters like this but I never know how to really lay it out in a coherent way. So idk maybe none of this will make sense but it does to me so. Autism essay under the cut.

So, I’m a nonbinary autistic person, but I still identify With womanhood. Just not As a woman if that makes sense? Like I Experience womanhood but I don’t Identity with it, not entirely. It’s hard to explain idk. But for me, autism and gender are inextricably linked. I’ve thought a lot on how, when I masked as a young girl, a lot of it was just me over-performing femininity, desperately trying to fit in with other girls but always feeling like I was stumbling through the performance. Reaching out and tripping over my feet.

Women are expected to be a lot of things in society. They can never be too loud, too bold, too impolite, too dominant, too rough. Too much. I was always too much for others. When Nadja told that story about other kids finding her too loud growing up, so her teachers made her sit outside, I identified so much because school was such an isolating thing for me. My voice was something always criticized, and my big emotions, so I learned to quiet myself, to dull myself. I’m unlearning it now, and I think that’s one big reason I’m drawn to Nadja’s character, because she’s so many of the things I learned Not to be, and she makes me want to fully embrace them again. She’s a woman in a way I understand and relate to.

Getting more into Nadja and less about me—I don’t necessarily read Nadja as nonbinary per se, but I do think when it comes to other women, she sees herself as Something Else. (I think there’s something to be said about Nadja doll, as some kind of metaphor for depersonalization or dysphoria or something. I can’t really articulate it but if anyone else has thoughts feel free to). It’s like there’s a wall of glass there between her and other women. She wants to reach out, but that wall is there. But when it starts to slip-which is I think is what was happening with Guide—she puts it back up.

It’s interesting to see her when she actually Tries to reach out to other women. Like this season, being in the human workforce, trying to befriend Lisa, and getting So Excited that this girl liked her stupid banana phone joke that she just did it over and over, completely unaware that she was starting to annoy her. Kind of like how Guide was with her, and maybe that’s part of why she pushes her away. Because there’s a part of Guide she can relate to, that longing in her. It’s like that wall of glass is a mirror now, a mirror into the parts of herself she’s afraid to really look at or evaluate. And the fact that she can relate to another woman is New and scary. I think Nadja comes off as very confident, and that’s definitely true, but I do also think there’s that part of her that’s Afraid, that carries the pain of a lifetime of rejection, that she hides under an armor of stone. The part of her that has go bags made because she’s afraid of being exiled again. That part of her who, in many different ways, has never really felt like she’s had a place to belong.

I also think another thing that’s interesting is her relationship Jenna. How she saw this young girl being pushed around by others, desperate to belong, and she Understood that feeling, so she wanted to take her under her wing and help her find confidence. It’s a different kind of relating than with Guide. Jenna is a vision of herself in the past, but Guide is a reminder that those feelings—that part of her that Cares what others, particularly women, think—are still present in her. And it makes her feel threatened. She can’t look at Guide without having to look at herself.

Idk. Maybe all of this is projection but what is a blorbo if not a canvas for your own issues. I think I’m extremely correct about all of this though.

So yeah! That’s all my thoughts for now. Feel free to add on!

[h1biscusgal]

ASKS IN A BUNDLE BC I'M TIRED : PART 2

OH MY GOD I MISS EACH ONE OF YOU I SWEARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR, MWAH TO YOU ALL I ADORE U SO MUCH.

AND THANK YOU MY DARL, i'm fine so far ml and im so sorry i could not post, had my phone away and i'm on my laptop rn, but thanks sm for asking you're so sweet omg, i feel like i literally won in life having ppl care for me IM GIGGLING TEE HEE.

ok so, let me explain this metaphor, once you CLAIM they aren't sick, there is not one part of your mind that will see it as SICK, which in short, means none of this sickness existed once you banish it.

it's so hard to explain bear with me- BUT, your mind sees something, you'll persist, and it shows up, that's the thing, there's no "oh what if in my other reality-" that's shifting for a reason baby, once you set your foot on the reality you want it stays that way, and everything follows through.

ALRIGHT SO, hypnagogia is not forced, nor is it "trying to reach there", you simply always are in that state before you sleep without even knowing, hypnagogia is usually something that happens unaware when you DRIFT off to sleep, simply state and understand that no matter whatever you do, you STILL enter it, you just gotta stay aware of it and that's simply easy, i listed a HUGE range of methods ppl do to keep awake when they are trying for the hypnagogia, it's in my masterlist post ab the hypnagogia. but either way! if you WAIT on GOING IN THE HYPNAGOGIA, you're actually drifting further away from it, because you're keeping yourself awake further more or boring yourself which leads to sleeping, ACCEPT IT YOU'LL ENTER AND JUST LAY BACK AND WATCH, try the forearm method too, it's when you raise your forearm and if you sleep it'll wake you up when it falls.

OFC YOU CAN BE MY ANON, now, for racing thoughts, you can meditate beforehand if you like, OR! let the thoughts come and just observe them until it quietens down and goes blank, or i like to actually focus on somewhere on the ceiling first before trying and just looking at it until i feel everything drift off.

GIRLY THAT WAS A SHIFT LMFAO.

OR! it could be a false dream that happens a lot, it's when your mind plays the scenario so well, when something like this happens and you're not sure, ground yourself to your surroundings, affirm in your DR tense "my name's ---" "i'm --- years old." and so on and on, use five senses, so that even if it is a false dream, you trick your mind into shifting you there, but seriously this sounds A LOT like a shift.

a place where your awareness is not bound to any body, nor is it bound to any material, a part of you that is the simplest form, you usually enter it when sleeping that's why you don't feel your body when you sleep, nor are you aware of it.

FUCK HWUEGUAQIWJWHE Y'ALL WHEN I TELL U TEE HEE THIS SHIT IS REALLLLL, AND BTW THE WHITE LIGHT IS SO REAL??? I HAD IT THE FIRST TIME TOO LIKE I WAS "hol the fuck up if it's my brother again with the flashlight ill whoop his ass", only when i woke up and saw no one, i looked in my brother's room and mf was fast asleep, i was SO confused then remembered, y'all i promise it's so fucking easy.

YES DARL.

MWAH ASK ME ANYTHING LOVES.

don't wait on the "movement", BE the movement, don't see it? "fuck it if i don't see it? i'll show you the movement."

EMBODY, it's not about confidence, it's actually about NOT GIVING A SINGLE FUCK bc you KNOW you can do it, if you keep waiting for someone to get you water, no one will know when will they come back, but if you get the water yoursef? you know exactly how much time you need.

JDEWFGRHEWJQKLERENJ CONGRATS BBY MWAH.

OFCCCC U CAN, I KNOW YOU WILL ENTER BTW

OFCCCC, i think i shared it somewhere but here u go darl:

I always wake up in the void.

My subconscious randomly wakes me up in the void in the middle of the night.

The void is mine.

I am already the void.

No matter what i do, i still wake up in the void.

My subconscious knows how to enter the void.

My subconscious already wakes me up in the void anytime i want.

I don’t need to believe the void, i always wake up in it and that’s a fact.

My breathing is regular when entering the void.

All resistance dissolves now ��� I am open and receptive.

My subconscious mind is a powerful magnet for miracles.

Old beliefs fade away. My new reality is already here.

I am free from fear, doubt, and delay. I transcend them effortlessly.

I choose the new version of me, and it instantly becomes real.

I was born to enter the Void. It's who I am.

The Void is my natural state — familiar, safe, and instant.

I have unshakable confidence in the Void. It’s always mine.

I am the Void. I become it instantly.

The more I trust, the faster it happens. I trust fully now.

Entering the Void is easy, normal, and guaranteed for me.

I already know how to enter. My subconscious does it perfectly.

I don’t need effort. I just choose — and I’m there.

Every version of me already knows how to enter — and I shift to that version now.

If I fall asleep, I instantly wake up in the Void.

My subconscious never forgets — I always wake in the Void.

Sleep is not a block — it’s a gateway for my void.

The Void meets me the moment I drift off.

I trust my subconscious to shift me perfectly, every single time.

My body sleeps, but my awareness enters the Void.

Even if I forget — my subconscious always remembers.

I automatically wake up in the Void, even if I don’t try.

The Void calls me back in my sleep — and I answer every time.

I enter the Void whenever I want — instantly and easily.

I don’t need to try. I just decide, and it happens.

Entering the Void is as easy as breathing.

I command the Void — it obeys me.

The doorway is always open. I just walk through.

I don’t chase the Void. It flows to me.

Every second is a new chance — I can enter now, and now, and now.

The Void is one breath away — and I’m there.

I shift realities just by intending. I am that powerful.

Doubt has no power over me. It fades into nothing. I release all resistance. I am open, relaxed, and ready.

Fear is just noise. I rise above it effortlessly.

I am worthy of the Void. I deserve it fully and completely.

All my old beliefs dissolve — the truth is, I can always enter.

Nothing stops me. No method, no block, no delay.

There is no “how.” There is only now.

I transcend fear, effort, and logic — I just shift. I’m beyond waiting. I decide, and I arrive.

I know the Void is real — because I’ve already been there.

I don’t need proof. My knowing is unbreakable.

I’ve already entered, and I can do it again, now.

I trust myself. I trust the Void. I trust the process.

My knowing creates my reality.

The more I trust, the faster I shift.

I don’t need to believe — I know.

My inner world shapes everything. I choose truth over doubt.

In the Void, everything is instant. I manifest effortlessly while in the Void.

I heal, shift, and transform through the Void.

The Void listens to my every thought and gives instantly. My dream life is always just one Void moment away. In the Void, I become my highest self. The Void is my blank canvas — I create without limit. All outcomes bend to my will in the Void. I remain perfectly still — my body relaxes deeply and naturally.

My heartbeat only grounds me deeper into the Void.

Fast breathing is just energy moving — I allow it and let it pass.

Every sensation is proof I’m close — I welcome it fully. I am calm, still, and in total control.

My body knows how to relax — and it does so easily now.

Every twitch or movement melts into stillness.

My body becomes weightless — I float into the Void. I don’t resist sensations — I observe and allow them to pass.

My nervous system adapts — stillness becomes easy.

Distractions no longer reach me — I stay deeply focused. My mind clears instantly when I choose to enter the Void. I don’t chase thoughts — I simply return to stillness. Thoughts float by like clouds — I remain the sky. Focus comes easily. I’m fully tuned into the Void. I ignore all noise — internal or external. Silence finds me, no matter what’s happening. I have full control over my attention. Every moment I refocus makes the Void stronger. I remain centered, no matter what tries to pull me away.

Boredom is just ego leaving the body — I welcome the silence. I am patient, powerful, and fully present. Waiting is no longer necessary — the Void is always now. Every second brings me closer — I trust the process fully. There’s nothing to chase — the Void finds me when I relax. I let go of time — I exist only in the now. Frustration fades the moment I surrender. Boredom is just the doorway — I walk through it calmly. I trust the stillness — it leads me to everything I desire. I’m always closer than I think — I keep going with ease.

I never give up — my success is guaranteed.

I always follow through — the Void rewards my persistence.

I’ve already committed — nothing stops me now.

Even when I feel stuck, I’m still making progress.

I don’t need to feel it — I know it’s happening.

My subconscious never quits — it keeps going until I arrive.

I trust even when it’s quiet — the shift is happening now.

I was built for this — I always reach the Void.

Giving up is no longer part of me. I’ve already won.

I stick with it because the Void is already mine.

I am the Void.

I embody complete stillness and limitless power.

I was born to enter the Void. It’s second nature to me.

My subconscious and the Void are one.

I am the version of me who enters the Void instantly and easily.

There is nothing to fear. I am safe to surrender.

I let go of control — and the Void welcomes me.

I don’t have to try. I just allow.

Every block dissolves before it reaches me.

Even resistance is proof I’m getting closer.

One thought, and I’m in.

Void now.

I command my awareness to drop — and it does.

When I close my eyes, I drop into the Void.

When I let go, I shift.

Sleep = Void.

Breath = Void.

Blink = Void.

My heartbeat only deepens my entry.

I remain still without effort — like the Void itself.

My thoughts slow down and disappear.

Every movement stops naturally.

Distractions bounce off me.

Boredom is a doorway — I walk through with power.

I flow past discomfort into full silence.

If I fall asleep, I wake in the Void.

If I forget, my subconscious remembers.

Even when I’m not trying — I enter the Void perfectly.

The Void reaches me, even when I think I missed it.

My intention is enough. My subconscious delivers it instantly.

I am the creator of the Void. It answers only to me.

In the Void, I become anything — I manifest everything.

I am already in the Void.

I am beyond time, space, and effort.

All versions of me collapse into this one — the one who always enters.

I quantum jump the moment I decide.

I shift without delay.

Time bends for me.

I reality shift without effort or steps.

The version of me who always shifts — I become them now.

My desired reality flows to me through the Void.

It’s safe to let go. It’s safe to be powerful. It’s safe to disappear into the Void. It’s safe to receive everything I want.

Every time I try to enter the Void, I succeed instantly. My subconscious has been fully trained — it takes over when I try. The moment I intend, my subconscious activates the Void. One decision = full access. Trying is now the trigger. I don’t have to do anything extra — it’s already done.

This subliminal reprogrammed me permanently.

One listen was enough — my Void access is unlocked forever.

I only needed to hear it once — and the effect never fades.

My subconscious remembers this subliminal forever.

Background listening rewrote my reality completely.

This subliminal stays active in my mind — even when I’m not listening.

When I try, I shift.

When I relax, I enter.

When I breathe, I drop in.

The moment I decide, it happens.

My intention alone activates the Void.

Void entry is my default now.

I’m the kind of person who enters the Void instantly.

I was born with this ability.

My subconscious does all the work.

I am the one who doesn’t need to try — I just do.

I no longer chase the Void — I am the Void.

Even after the subliminal ends, it stays active in my mind.

Its effects grow stronger every day.

The command is fully installed.

I no longer need help — I’ve already been reprogrammed.

I access the Void naturally now, as if I always could.

Whenever I say “Void” I enter instantly.

“Void” = full access, no delay.

That command is permanently active in my subconscious.

My subconscious absorbs this instantly and completely.

Every affirmation goes straight to my subconscious now.

My subconscious is wide open and receiving perfectly. I absorb this subliminal effortlessly, automatically, and fully.

My mind is tuned to receive and obey every word.

These affirmations are already working.

My results appear faster than ever before.

My mind accepts and applies everything right now.

I shift instantly with every listen.

Each second I listen multiplies the effect by 100.

Every repetition rewires me deeper.

The more I hear it, the stronger it gets.

Each play of this subliminal makes it permanent.

This subliminal grows more powerful every time I listen.

It compounds — it builds momentum fast.

This is working.

It’s done.

Shift locked.

Activated.

Full access granted.

Already mine.

No delay. No doubt.

(gah dayum that was long).

TEE HEE MY FAV GIRLY. YOU'LL GET UR MANIFESTATIONS I KNOW IT, I JUST KNOW IT.

OH MY FUCKING GOD SOMEONE GETS ME, PLEASE THAT WAS ME. i used to be obsessed with being skinny (i am so ashamed to say i used to be a koreaboo when i found kpop and you get how ppl wanna look there, pale skin and thin body and shi) so i managed to manifest losing a lot of weight and actually looking stick thin but I realized a year ago i kinda hate the look fr, i loved my old curvy self so i managed to manifest it back, ACTUALLY IT'S SO MUCH EASIER TO MANIFES SMTH BACK BC U ALREADY HAD IT BEFORE.

subconscious always listens- it's your conscious mind that is blocking it because there's no belief or persistence backed up.

WHY WON'T IT WORK- sit somewhere, calm yourself, speak to yourself your desires, go about your day doing that until you get ur desires, it's not "oh i did once or twice it may not work."

in Joseph Murphy's book, one of his clients was an elderly woman wanting to look for a man, many may say "oh u can't marry at this age it's too old." SHEEEE, EVEN IF SHE WAS OLDER, TOOK ONLY A MONTH BY SITTING SOMEWHERE AND REPEATING SHE HAS A LOVING MAN AND SHE FOUND ONE LITERALLY LIKE THAT.

I LOVE SIGNS LIKE THIS TEE HEE.

HI DARL AND SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY, so, what you mean is, that your HYPNOPOMPIA STATE IS ACTUALLY VERY SHORT, mind you, that is not HYPNAGOGIA, which is a state that happens BEFORE SLEEP, hypnopompic state is when you JUST wake up, and it varies from someone to another, actually i get you, personally i find my state to be longer when i sleep limitedly, BUT THAT'S OK, you can try BEFORE sleep.

YALL HAVE NO IDEA HOW THIS MADE ME SMILE, I LOVE PEOPLE WHO UNDERSTAND ME AND MY HUMOR, I ADORE U ALL.

I DARL! ok so, there's a very fine line between dreaming and shifting, there's ALSO false dreams which looks like your reality but it's just a dream! there's a very big difference, best way? is to look down your fingers, if there are ten, you're in a real solid reality, if you have less or more, you're in a dream!

HI DARL! so yes, this is your body making way for the shift/void! body being stiff is a sign that it's going rigid to be entering soon!

THE AMOUNT OF PPLS ASKING THIS I SWEAR I'LL MAKE ONE THESE DAYS, AND IMMA MAKE IT EVEN MORE POWERFUL JUST U WAIT.

EJUFEIWJQI I SWEAR BY THE HMM METHOD I SWEAR, IT'S SO RELAXING AND YET SO FUN, I KNOW U WILL SHIFT SOON DARL.

YES DARL THAT'S A VOID THING, the main property is to know if it's not just your eyes waking up from a sudden sleep OR if it was actually a shift! check the surrounding, did u see anything? felt anything? BUT YOURE SO CLOSE MWAH.

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 9]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Words: 4.8k

"Matt…how did you know where the window is?"

The words leave your lips and the entire mood of the apartment shifts. Matt's frame stiffens and fear begins to course through you. 

If the answer to the question was simple, he'd have no reason to react like he got caught in a lie, but that is exactly what he is doing. His posture is screaming that he knows you've realized something you shouldn't have, and it scares you. It scares you so much because you don't want Matt to be someone you can't trust. 

You want so so badly to trust him. Everything was going so well, and you don't want it to be ruined so early. You haven't prepared your heart for that disappointment and instinctively you wrap your arms around yourself to stave off any potential pain. 

"I can explain," Matt says, voice quiet and on the edge of pleading. He's looking at you with his own fear on his face and it triggers you to step back and away from him.

People have told you before that they can explain - that you are in the wrong for simply not understanding them - and it always ends with you hurt. So, you close your eyes and duck your chin to your chest and brace yourself for the metaphorical blow, whatever it may be. 

But there is only silence.

No more than a minute of nothingness passes, but it feels like an eternity. You force your eyes open and are shocked to see Matt looking absolutely devastated. Instead of standing tall and confident in himself, like you are so used to seeing, he has completely deflated. His shoulders are slumped and his head hung. You can practically feel the self hating energy coming off of him - it is something you are so familiar with. 

Guilt pools in your belly. You can't hurt him because of your distrust of others and past experiences - he's given you no reason to think anything he's doing is malicious or only self serving. 

So, you take the ball back into your court, squeezing your eyes back shut and taking a deep breath before asking, "should…should we sit?"

You hear him inhale sharply and you really, really hope you are doing the right thing. 

"Please?" 

He sounds like he's trying to not beg, and the knot forming in your stomach squeezes around your heart. 

"Can we sit on the couch?" You ask, motioning to it. You finally allow yourself to look at him again to see him nod. You lick your lips and hesitantly add, "it's about five feet to your left," before going to sit yourself. By the time you are sitting, Matt is at the back of the couch and moving around the side to sit next to you. You watch as his fingers brush along the back and arm, too anxious to dare to look at his face or the giant lasagna stain on his chest. 

You let him settle before asking again, in a calmer tone, "How did you know where the window was? And that it was open?"

You feel so accusatory, but he's told you before he has absolutely no light perception and in the panic of the moment, he closed the window without any hesitation or confusion. 

He rubs his hands over his knees before removing his glasses and setting them on the coffee table. He then leans back into the couch, while turning to face you, and to be respectful, you turn so you are facing him, though you keep your eyes down cast to your lap. 

"I was a child when I lost my eyesight," he starts slowly, and you try to keep your stomach from clenching. "And whatever it was that got in my eyes, it enhanced my other senses. It took what remained and pushed them past what normal people should be able to do. I could hear conversations from blocks away. I could figure out what people had for lunch the day before by the smell still in their breath. I could feel what was happening around me, based on air movement on my skin. And now…. Now I can…I can use all of that, all those inputs, to act as kind of a 3D map to determine things. Like a sonar, but instead of just sound reflecting back, it's a bit of everything. I can't see with my eyes, but I do know what is happening around me. That's how I knew where the window was. I could feel the breeze coming in. I could hear where the noise came in more clearly, versus the slight muffling of the wall. I could sense where the couch was based on the same factors."

You take in what he is trying to tell you and nod just a tiny bit. What he is saying makes sense - kind of. You know it's possible for other people's senses to strengthen when they lose one, but not nearly to the degree he is explaining. It is a hard concept to wrap your mind around. But you try. 

You can tell he's not used to explaining this and you can also tell he's waiting for you to be angry or upset with him. It's a feeling you are so very used to experiencing yourself - that you did something wrong, and the other person is going to leave. It's like it's tangible in the air.

You force your gaze up to Matt's face. His hazel eyes are truly windows to his soul, and he looks so scared that you are going to explode on him and your heart aches for him. You're by no means angry about him not telling you about this upfront - it's clear he's had issues with that in the past and it's not like you deserve to know all his trauma and secrets from day one just because you had his child. 

But you are still confused and do want to understand.

You turn so are facing him even more fully and force words from your throat, "Can I ask you some questions?"

Matt nods his head, jerky with it, "Yes, anything."

You can tell he means it, and that eases your own anxiety. You rub at your thighs, needing to transfer your internal anxieties outward, and go for the first thing that comes to mind. 

"You said…you can hear blocks away. What does that mean? You can hear everything in like...a two block radius?" You ask, hoping you aren't sounding like an absolute idiot.

Matt's lips twitch, like they want to go into a sad smile, but he keeps his face firmly in 'kicked puppy' territory, "A little more than two blocks. I haven't…tested the maximum range, but if I stand in the middle of Hell's Kitchen, I can hear almost all of it. Sort of - I learned to filter and push things into the background so it's not constant input. If I focus, I can hear the couple down the street debating about what they want for dinner. I can hear everyone in this building and the next. But it isn't just..." he trails off for a moment, biting his lip and wrinkling his brow. Like he's trying to figure out the right words. You wait, not wanting to rush him. 

"It isn't just a macro experience; it is also micro. I can hear the way the pipes in your kitchen are creaking. The way your shirt brushes against your skin. The differences in your breath as you exhale…I can hear your lungs expand and contract. I can... Hear your heart - it was beating fast a few moments ago but it's started to calm. Or you're trying to keep calm. I can... Tell your adrenaline and fear are still high. You're nervous and I don't blame you."

Your brows scrunch up in disbelief, "you can…hear my heartbeat?" You look down at your own chest, reaching up to place your hand over your heart. You can feel it beating rather hard, but as Matt said, you feel like you are calming down now that the two of you are talking. 

"I can hear your heartbeat," he confirms, then adds, "But I don't go around listening to those sorts of things. I try to give people their privacy."

That makes sense to you - you wouldn't want to constantly have to listen to people's body functions. 

The thought triggers another question. 

"Why aren't you a doctor?"

Matt opens his mouth as if to answer, then pauses as his expression morphs into bafflement. "What?"

"Why aren't you a doctor?" You repeat, then motion at him, "I mean, based on what you said, wouldn't it make sense to be a doctor?"

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, reminding you of a fish, before he shakes his head, finally, finally starting to smile again, "I, uh, never considered it. I've always wanted to be a lawyer, since I was a kid. I wanted to help people." He leans forward slightly, putting his elbows on his knees, "You learn I can hear your heartbeat and you ask why I'm not a doctor. Are you not…freaked out?"

"I mean, a little, yes," you admit with a shrug, "but also…" you look back down to your lap and clasp your hands together, squeezing a little too tightly, "You're telling me and…we're talking like adults about it. I get why you didn't tell me, and it's not like…it's not like it's something terrible. It's weird but…it's not the weirdest thing?" You bite into your lip, then, because your nature is to put everyone else's needs in front of yours, you can't help but ask, "Is there anything I can do to make things easier? I mean, is there anything in here that's too loud or something? Something I can adjust to make you more comfortable?"

He seems to need a minute to process what you are telling him before he shakes his head, "No. No, I've spent my life adjusting to everything." He takes a breath before his voice becomes a little softer, "I didn't want to hide this from you. Foggy and Karen know the truth and were helping me come up with a way to tell you that makes sense."

"You did a good job, it made sense," you quickly confirm. That makes him smile, just a little. 

"I'm glad... they are also helping me make a binder, like you made for me. About everything," he mimics you, motioning to himself. "I'm hoping it will help you with Minnie." 

You're confused at first why your daughter is mentioned, then the wheels quickly begin to turn. 

Memories flash in your mind of Minnie saying things are too loud - all her weird little complaints you've heard since she started being able to articulate - and your stomach starts to turn as things start to slot into place.

She inherited Matt's senses. 

It makes so much sense and you very suddenly feel like you need to throw up. 

You scramble to stand up, clamping your hands over your mouth. Matt shoots up so he is standing beside you, reaching out to touch your arm while saying your name in concern.

"She's been trying to tell me,” you choke out. All of the emotion of the day is crashing into you. Your eyes are stinging, and you can feel the tears gathering. 

You've been such an awful parent. 

How could you have not listened to what she was saying? Toddlers say weird things, but she's been consistent about what she tells you and you thought it was just her imagination or exaggerations. 

What has your poor baby been putting up with? 

The thought of her suffering because her senses are being overwhelmed and you not helping her pushes you over the edge and you begin to cry. 

Tears start to pour out of you and only years of training has you strangling the sob that tries to escape as well. 

You see Matt move through blurry eyes and suddenly you are wrapped in his arms, tucked under his chin like Minnie had been.

"It's okay," he whispers into your temple, holding you firmly against his chest. You want to struggle because you are not used to being held when you cry. You aren't used to being held at all. You aren't used to crying around other people. 

All of it is so much and it just makes you cry harder, awkwardly standing stiff as a board while Matt tries to comfort you. 

"It's okay," he repeats, and you manage to shake your head, because none of it is okay. It isn't.

You think of all the tantrums that have resulted from her being overstimulated and try to imagine how awful she must have been feeling. You get headaches from things being just a little too loud and that has been all of her life - and you have no idea how much she can hear. Can she hear blocks away like her father can? How many horrible things has she heard that you don't know about? 

How has it shaped her?

"Hey, hey, look at me," Matt says so softly you barely hear him over your own choked sobs. His hands go from holding you to his chest up to your face and he cups your jaw, gently forcing you to tilt your head up towards his. You squeeze your eyes shut, too ashamed of yourself to look right into his face. "You are an amazing mother. You care so much about Minnie and doing right by her. You said she's been trying to tell you and you've been listening. You have been. The headphones you got her? They do help. I promise you they help. Everything you do helps." 

There's a gentle pressure against your forehead, and you realize Matt is touching his to yours. You can feel his nose brushing against your own. "I asked her at the park the other day what helps when things start getting too loud. Do you know what she said?" 

You shake your head because you have no idea. You didn't even know they had talked without you present. 

What else didn't you know about your daughter?

"She listens to your heart. When things get too much for her, she finds the thing that centers her and soothes her and that's the sound of your heart." 

You try to process his words but it's another gut punch to your emotions. It's a swell of love for your sweet little angel with a mix of horror because how often has she needed to center herself on you? 

Matt smooths his thumbs over your cheeks, pushing away tears that are still streaming down them. "You take such good care of her. It blew my mind the first time we were all together, that you're so attentive and loving. You care so much. I didn't understand how I was so lucky that you were the one I got to have a child with. Someone with such a good heart. I thought you must have been mistaken because I certainly don't deserve you. I don't deserve Minnie. But you let me in and I have been praying that I can be a fraction of what a good parent you are. Minnie loves you so much. You've done so good with her. You didn't know about her senses, but how could you, and you still did so much to help her. And now that you do know, I know you'll do everything within your power to help her. And I will as well. I promise. It's okay. She's okay."

You try to focus on Matt's words, but it is so hard. Your crying is quickly cascading from emotional crying to being completely panicked anxiety crying. 

You aren't used to being comforted. You aren't used to people telling you it's okay and you did good. It's confusing and you don't know how to act. You don't know what you are supposed to do. 

Are you supposed to calm down? How do you calm down? How do you just stop crying?

And his hands are so warm on your face. They are surprisingly rough, but they feel good, petting you so gently. He's so close everywhere - you're still right against him from when he was holding you. You can taste his breath. 

It feels like he's right on top of you - he practically is - and you suddenly can't breathe. It feels like your esophagus has locked up and you can no longer swallow air. 

Fear surges up your spine and before it can take hold, a low resonating bong goes through your mind, telling you to go get a glass of water. 

It's something you've trained into your mind, taking years to perfect. 

To prevent a panic attack, drink a glass of water.

"I need water," you manage to say before pulling away from Matt and go purposefully to the kitchen, ordering yourself to not rush. You have a specific glass you use on these occasions and pull it from the top shelf. You hear Matt follow you into the kitchen, but you force yourself to focus on getting out your water pitcher and pouring your glass of water. Your hands are shaking and water is splashing on the side of the glass. 

Once it is full, you refill the pitcher and put it away, before returning to your glass. You drink slowly, taking a sip, swallowing, taking a breath, then repeating. Matt keeps his distance as he waits for you. He looks concerned and he keeps flexing his hands and you have to avert your gaze because it is making you anxious again. 

Tears are still streaming down your face but with each breath, you regain control of your emotions. You pull them back in and reorganize your thoughts. First, you must deal in facts.

Fact - Matt has enhanced senses due to the accident where he lost his eyesight. Fact - Matt is Minnie's father. Fact - Minnie inherited Matt's enhanced senses. Fact - having enhanced senses can be overwhelming for your daughter and it causes tantrums. 

These are your facts, one of which is a problem, the over stimulation, and you need to find a solution to it, but to find a solution you need to know the trigger. 

You finish your glass of water and set it in the sink to wash later, then turn to face Matt. He looks so worried, but now that you are looking at him, he perks up - attentive and waiting for you to address him.

You wonder what signals your body is giving him - can he sense your change in demeanor?

"Do you know what upset her at dinner? Why she started crying?" You ask, hoping you don't sound like a complete mess.

Matt nods quickly, ready to explain, "the building behind us on this block's fire alarm started going off. Based on what I can tell, a rat chewed through a wire and set it off somehow. The second tantrum was from a fire truck arriving - it had it's sirens going off "

You stare at Matt in wonder. You heard none of that. The window was wide open and you didn't hear a siren at all, and if you did you automatically put it into the background of your mind. 

"It was on the other side of the block," he says, like he knows exactly what you are thinking, "and we're facing the wrong direction. There's no chance you would have been able to hear it."

Your hands clench into fists at your side, dread starting to build up inside of you and threatening to pull more tears, "how can I protect her from things I can't hear?"

Matt's face softens into something understanding. He hesitantly steps forward, and as he reaches for you, you understand his love language is touch. He's trying to comfort you through touch, and by extension, comfort himself. This must be horrible for him, you realize with a start. He told you this big secret and you proceeded to freak the fuck out on him. 

He needs comfort as well. He needs someone telling him it's okay.

You're being so selfish again.

He touches your arm and begins to ghost his fingers up and down it, barely pushing at the sleeves of your T-shirt. The back of his fingers are rough, but the sensation isn't terrible. You are still so unsure what you are supposed to do, so you take a breath and take a small step closer to him then decide the best course of action is to ignore the petting.

"You can't protect her, but we can help give her the tools to protect herself. She was born with it and has adapted naturally. I had to be taught and have had a lifetime to learn. That's why I want to make that guide for you. I fully intended to tell you everything, and still do," he ducks his head and becomes almost sheepish, “I was just…trying to do it in the right way?"

You absorb his words and let them roll around in your mind, ignoring for now the implication there are more people with enhanced senses than just Matt. 

"You can teach her?" You confirm after a few moments.

"We can both teach her. I told you before, you've already helped so much. No one has ever gotten me sound proof headphones - and certainly not a dozen different pairs. We can talk to her together and she can tell us what she needs," he says and it does sound like he's thought this through. 

And that brings you comfort.

He has a plan. He's coming at this prepared and with research and consultants. 

He's committed. 

You don't need to search for a solution because he already has one.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and your shoulders relax.

A literal sigh of relief.

"Thank you," you whisper and Matt quickly shakes his head, but before you can say anything, the larger red stain on his shirt catches your eye again and your Mom brain activates. "Matt, your shirt!"

He looks down at his chest, clearly confused by the sudden change in conversation and tone, "what about my shirt?"

"There's lasagna all over it. It's going to stain so badly. Here, let me get you another shirt," you pull away from him and start hurrying towards the bedroom. You wipe at your tears as you call back to him, "I think I can still get the stain out. It's still wet."

In the bedroom, Minnie has rolled over and is now face down on her bed, sprawled out like a starfish. You know from that she will not be awake until morning. She must be so exhausted, your poor Mouse. Guilt swirls in your belly and you vow you're going to learn to help prevent this. 

You're not going to let her suffer any longer.

You look away from your daughter to rummage through your dresser. You grab one of your largest T-shirts and quickly leave the room, lest you disturb your daughter. You head back down the short hallway to the main living area, hoping what you got will be big enough for Matt. 

You look up from your musings as you come around the corner and freeze.

Matt's taken his shirt off.

You are very intimately aware that he was in shape before, but this is a different level. His muscles are well defined and his biceps are at least as big as Minnie's head. You've never seen someone with v-cut abs in person and you feel your cheeks start to heat up because you are only human and your brain is definitely short circuiting.

You force your eyes away from how his hips disappear into his pants and up his chest. 

There are scars, all across his torso, long and deliberate. They don't look surgical, even with the sight symmetry of some. Going over one of the smaller scars on his right side is a nasty bruise that seems to wrap around to his back. It looks painful and at least a few days old by the coloring.

Your instinct is to ask if he is alright, but you clamp it down. 

You understand. 

You understand this extension of trust, silent and hopeful but terrified, and you take it and cradle it to your heart. He will tell you in time. You have to trust him.

You have to trust whatever is blooming between the two of you. 

But does he really need to be so insanely hot? Was it not complicated enough?

Matt calls your name, breaking you out of your thoughts. He sounds more than a little smug.

"Sorry, it has been a long day. Um, I think this will fit you," you step forward and hold it out, asking as you do, "Do I need to tell you where it is or…?"

He shakes his head with a chuckle, and you wonder how many times people have asked him such questions, "You can just toss it at me. It's okay, I understand." 

You feel rude but do as you are told. He catches it easily, and after turning it over in his hands to orient it, pulls it on. 

"What's it got on it?" He asks, rubbing his hands over his chest to feel the screen print, unintentionally emphasizing how broad he is.

You blame your slight delay in response on your exhaustion.

"It's... got the word 'cosmos' on it with a galaxy print behind it. It's from that old science show with um...I don't know his name. I just remember something about the universe being a pie?" You answer, wishing you'd actually looked at what you had grabbed him.

But Matt nods anyways, like he understands what you mean, "Carl Sagan?"

The name rings a bell, and you shrug, honestly not remembering in the moment, "I think that's it, I never was a big science person but the shirt was free..."

He chuckles at your answer and you have to look away from him, shuffling towards the couch instead. It isn't fair how good he looks. The shirt is one you wear every so often to sleep and now you very much understand the trope of men enjoying women wearing their t-shirts and you've already experienced too many emotions today to try to process that.

You plop down and put your head into your hands. Exhaustion is creeping into your bones and your eyes ache from crying and it feels like you've been hit with the emotional equivalent of an eighteen wheeler. You feel the couch dip as he sits beside you and a moment later, Matt's fingers are tracing up and down your spine. It feels like a feather and instead of locking up at the touch, you find yourself slumping more.

"How're you doing?" He asks and part of you wants to laugh. 

"I don't know," you admit, "it is a lot to take in at once. I just want to make sure I'm doing the right thing - with Minnie. With you. Not just with…your senses, but with everything. I don't want to mess up."

"You won't mess up," Matt assures you and he sounds so confident that you want to believe him. "Things might not always be easy, but you won't mess up. I believe in you." 

You don't know how to respond to that. You haven't had anyone tell you they believe in you in so long. It sends this sort of warmth through you that you don't understand and the only thing you can think of to do is hide your face more into your hands. 

He doesn't press for more as you both sit there. The silence somehow isn't awkward, even as minutes start to creep by. He continues to run his fingers up and down your back and it doesn't take long for your eyes to start to feel heavy. You tell yourself to get up, you still have to clean up the mess from dinner, but your body doesn't listen.

You just want to sit. 

All you want to do is just sit.

You'll get up in a minute. You just need to recharge. You keep telling yourself that, even as you feel your body start to sag and your thoughts start to fade in and out. You don't notice as your exhaustion starts to take over and you begin to drift - and you don't notice as Matt helps you lay down on the couch or when a blanket is draped over you. 

As your thoughts finally allow sleep to take over, the last thing your mind lets you process is the brush of lips against your temple and gentle words whispered against your skin. 

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[drarrywords]

The Precision of Spite

Draco Malfoy met Harry Potter under fluorescent lights, surrounded by synaptic diagrams and the low hum of a lab projector. Of course, he had not meant to attend the lecture. It was Blaise’s fault. 

“You’re too self-contained,” Blaise had said to him, when Draco had protested, “Inspire yourself. Observe the scientists in their natural habitat. Break your dull routine.”

Draco had been halfway through composing an essay on postmodern detachment and the language of surveillance cinema when Blaise physically removed him from the studio, which is how he ended up seated among biology majors and the odd psychology student, listening to Harry Potter, neuroscience wunderkind, deliver a talk on “Neuroplasticity, Memory, and the Architecture of the Self.”

He spoke plainly. With that rough, untrained eloquence of someone who understood more than he bothered to explain. His hair looked like it had been electrocuted by his own research. He wore a shirt half-buttoned and wire-rimmed glasses he kept pushing up his nose, distractedly, as if the body was a nuisance compared to the brain.

And the audience adored him.

Draco sat with his arms folded, jaw tight, wondering how the poster child for sleep-deprivation and coffee-stained sentences had become the intellectual darling of the university.

“I’m fairly certain he just explained consciousness using a metaphor about wet clay,” Draco hissed.

Blaise murmured, “He is a consciousness metaphor wet clay.”

Draco hated everything.

Especially the way Harry looked at him across the lecture hall, gaze sharp and knowing, as though he recognized a threat. 

Or worse: an equal.

Their enmity wasn’t declared so much as implied—like a centuries-old academic curse that neither had the power nor desire to lift. Potter was all fMRI scans and synaptic trails, fascinated by the brain's circuitry—the way memory lived in architecture, the way trauma rewrote the map. Draco was art and affect and post-structural theory, convinced that quantifying thought was the surest way to kill it. Art did not demand reason. It did not have to be dissected. 

They disagreed on panels, argued in cafes, and once got into a nearly metaphysical shouting match in the student union over whether dreams could ever be truly unconscious if they were later interpreted.

“You measure the fire, I paint it,” Draco snapped.

“You romanticize ignorance,” Potter had retorted. “Pretending subjectivity is too holy to touch.”

Draco's eyes narrowed. “You think because you can diagram grief, you understand it.”

The tension between them always hovered just beneath academics. The kind of animosity that tasted like attraction if you let it sit too long. And Draco often feared if that is what it would turn out to be. 

It escalated one cold November evening, in the hallway outside a joint symposium. Potter had just given a talk on the hippocampus and the illusion of free will. Draco caught him near the coat rack, fingers curled around a cigarette he wasn’t allowed to light indoors.

“You’re obsessed with the brain like it’s the whole of the soul,” Draco said. “But what if it’s nothing? What if you’re dissecting an organ that isn’t what you believe it to be?”

Potter stepped closer, green eyes glinting at him. “You sound jealous.”

“Of what? Data sets?”

“No. Of the fact that I can explain the thing you keep trying to make sacred with your art. It can’t decipher what science can.”

Draco took a drag of nothing—and exhaled frost. “You haven’t explained anything. You’ve mapped the ruins and declared yourself king of nothing.”

Potter's mouth twitched—something between a smirk and a provocation. “Is this foreplay for you?”

Draco’s pulse stuttered.

He turned, abruptly.

But Potter was already watching him walk away, like he’d won something.

And still, Draco couldn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop attending the lectures he pretended to despise. Couldn’t stop quoting Potter in critiques, only to dismantle his ideas with surgical precision. Couldn’t stop thinking about the line of Harry’s throat when he tilted his head to explain neural firing patterns, about the vein in his hand when he scribbled on whiteboards, about the bite in his voice when he said the word illusion.

He dreamed once that Harry was performing surgery on his skull—not with a blade, but with his words.

He woke up breathless.

One night, after an opening at the visual arts building, Draco stepped outside for air. The sky was a matte grey bruise, the clouds bloated with unshed snow. He lit a cigarette, half for the effect.

“You’re going to die tragically young,” said a voice.

Draco didn’t turn. “Let me guess. You’ve modeled it in MATLAB?”

Harry laughed softly behind him. “Only the statistical probability.”

Draco blew smoke toward the dark. “I didn’t invite you.”

“And yet,” Harry said, stepping beside him, “here we are.”

They stood like that for a moment—silence edged in frost.

“You know,” Harry said eventually, “you talk about art like it’s above being dissected. Like it’s immune to explanation.”

“It is,” Draco said. “Because explanation kills wonder.”

Harry turned toward him, eyes dark. “Then what is this? This thing between us? Is it a wonder? Or can I map it? Can science understand it? Or should this be left to the interpretation of the artist”

“What?”

Harry’s voice dropped, quiet and scalpel-sharp. “I could measure your pupils when you look at me. Track the dilation. Quantify desire. If I wanted to.”

“And if I said I wasn’t afraid of your data?” he asked as he turned to face him, voice low. “That you can measure my desire all you want, but it won’t make it yours.”

Harry stepped closer. “Then I’d have to prove you wrong.”

The kiss was inevitable.

Not sweet. Not gentle.

It was collision and combustion, a war fought without words for once. Harry tasted like a storm and theory. Draco’s hands curled into his coat, anchoring them both to something dangerously real. They pulled apart just enough to breathe.

Harry’s lips hovered by his ear. “Tell me again that this isn’t worth mapping.”

Draco’s breath hitched, “I’d rather paint it.”

Harry’s laugh was a low, gorgeous sound. 

And somewhere inside them both, something rewired.

There was no morning after. Not really. There was only the aftermath where the space between them hummed like a struck chord, vibrating with everything unsaid.

Harry left without speaking.

Draco let him.

Because to speak would make it real, and Draco had survived this long by convincing himself that nothing was.

In the weeks that followed, nothing changed—except everything.

They still argued on panels. Still found each other at departmental mixers like magnets pretending to repel. Harry presented a paper on the neural signature of heartbreak; Draco responded with a gallery exhibit titled “Dissection of a Feeling”, where a looping film displayed an anatomical heart melting slowly into white paint.

The critics called it haunting.

Harry called it transparent.

“Tell me,” he said one evening in the corner of a faculty party, “do you make art to understand, or to hide?”

Draco met his gaze with a glass of champagne raised halfway. “Isn’t your entire discipline just an elaborate way to avoid actually feeling anything?”

A smirk played at Harry’s lips, but his voice was low when he said, “I remember what you felt. That night. I can model it from memory.”

“Then do it,” Draco said. “Diagram my silence. Quantify the way I didn’t beg you to stay.”

The smirk vanished.

He walked away, defeated.

Draco tried to stop thinking about him. Tried to fill the silence with other people—sharp, beautiful distractions who knew better than to touch whatever wound he carried in his chest like a gallery piece titled ‘Unfinished’. But none of them fought like Harry. None of them made the world feel like an experiment in gravity, or stared at him like he was the only variable worth studying.

Meanwhile, Harry tried to solve himself like he was math. He fed their kiss through his neural models. Tried to understand what it meant that desire didn’t abate with distance—that proximity had never been the problem.

He reread old papers, wondering if the effect could be residual—if a single moment could lodge itself like shrapnel in the emotional brain.

He didn’t want Draco Malfoy like a desire that burnt him from within.

But sometimes, he did.

So he did what he always did when things terrified him.

He turned it into research.

Later, he sent Draco an invitation.

Not to dinner but to a lecture titled: “Emotive Recurrence in Memory Consolidation: The Case for Art in Neuroscience.”

Draco stared at the email like it had insulted his bloodline, but he went regardless. Because hatred was a kind of devotion. Because if Harry wanted a war in front of a crowd, Draco would wear his best suit.

He walked in five minutes late, purposefully, and sat in the front row like a blade sheathed in wool and Harry, for all his usual fidgeting, didn’t falter once. The lecture was about how memory clings to emotion. How experiences tied to aesthetic or affective states consolidate more deeply, more lastingly. How the brain carves cathedrals around feeling.

He used no slides.

Only images—frames from films Draco recognized. Soundless scenes from his own gallery pieces. A still of Draco himself, standing in profile under gallery light.

And finally—one image only Harry had ever seen: Draco’s hand, midair, in the moment before they kissed.

The hall was silent.

Harry looked at Draco and said, “We measure memory by activation patterns. But sometimes, it’s the absence that burns hotter. What wasn’t said. What wasn’t done.”

The room blurred.

Draco stood and left without a word.

Harry didn’t follow.

Not yet.

He found him later—three floors down, in a stairwell that smelled like metal and rain.

Draco sat on the steps, cigarette unlit in one hand.

“You think you’re clever,” Draco said quietly.

Harry leaned against the wall. “You always say that like it’s an insult.”

“It is.”

They sat in silence. The kind that hurts to touch.

Then Harry said, “I didn’t want to make it real.”

Draco didn’t look at him. “So you made it academic instead.”

“It’s the only language I know.”

Draco turned now, slowly, and looked up at him. “You think if you catalogue me, you won’t have to feel me. You think if you define it, you won’t drown in it. But that is where you fail. You understand science but that isn’t the sole interpretation. You will inevitably feel and science can’t decipher that.”

Harry sat beside him.

Close, not touching.

“I feel it,” he said. “Every second.”

Draco laughed, soft and exhausted. “Then say it. For once. Without chemicals. Without MRI scans.”

Harry’s throat worked. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“That’s a beginning,” Draco murmured.

And Harry—finally—leaned in again, not to map the moment, but to be in it.

At dawn, Draco woke before Harry, which was unusual. Normally, it was Harry’s breath that stirred the morning, his limbs stretching in unconscious reach across the tangled sheets, anchoring Draco in the liminal space between waking and sleep. But that morning, the sunlight spilled in crooked and indifferent, casting pale gold across Harry’s bare shoulder, and Draco was already awake to see it.

There was something violently tender about Harry in sleep. The way his mouth softened, the way the crease between his brows vanished, the way he looked almost too young to be the man who once dissected love on a podium and called it research. His hand is curled loosely against Draco’s ribs, a gesture that spoke less of possession and more of persistence. Even in unconsciousness, Harry clung—quietly, stubbornly, like he was still trying to hold onto something that kept slipping through the cracks.

Draco should move. He knew this. He should untangle himself from the weight of it all, from the unbearable intimacy of shared quiet. But he didn’t. Instead, he lay still, watching the slow rise and fall of Harry’s breath, wondering how something so simple can feel so excruciating.

Because this—whatever this was—wasn’t the resolution he thought it might be. It wasn’t soft focus and orchestral swell. It was raw. It was uncertain. It was the aftermath of years spent hurling words like weapons, only to discover that the sharpest ones were never spoken aloud.

He thought of the first time they kissed—how it felt like setting fire to theory. And then here they were, much later, burnt but not ruined, scarred but somehow still tethered by a thread neither of them knows how to name.

Harry stirred then, lashes fluttering as if the world was calling him back. His eyes opened slowly—green, as always, too much all at once—and he looked at Draco like he was a question Harry was still trying to solve.

“You’re awake,” Harry murmured, voice hoarse with sleep.

Draco didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t know how. So instead, he lifted a hand and traced the edge of Harry’s jaw, a gesture too intimate for the morning, too honest for them.

“You talk in your sleep,” he said at last.

Harry arched an eyebrow, just barely. “I do?”

“You said ‘architecture of the soul’ and then muttered something about coffee.”

Harry groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Please tell me you’re lying.”

“I’m not. But I did consider recording it for posterity.”

There was a flicker of a smile, reluctant and real. “You’re cruel.”

“I’m precise,” Draco corrected. 

Draco let his fingers linger a moment longer, memorizing the subtle planes of Harry’s face—the slight shadow where a scar still faintly traced, the way his skin caught the sunlight and turned almost translucent. For all the distance they kept during the day, here, in the silence between waking and fully becoming themselves, there was a fragile kind of honesty.

Harry’s smile faded, replaced by a quieter expression, one that hovered somewhere between vulnerability and the burden of knowing too much.

“Architecture of the soul,” Harry repeated softly, as if tasting the phrase again, “I was dreaming about my thesis. You know, the part where I tried to map emotions to brain structures.”

Draco hummed, a hollow sound this time. “So love is a neural network? That explains why it’s so hard to disconnect.”

Harry’s eyes darkened, the light in them dimming. “Maybe it’s not about disconnecting but about knowing when you have to.”

For a long moment, neither spoke. The room was still except for their breath and the distant hum of the city waking. Finally, Harry shifted, his hand retreating from Draco’s waist. He pulled the sheets closer around himself like armor, leaving a chill in the space where he’d been.

“I never told you about how scared I was that all this” Harry murmured, voice cracking, gesturing vaguely between them, “was just some chemical accident. That I was fooling myself.”

Draco swallowed hard, the weight in his chest growing unbearable. “You weren’t.”

Harry’s eyes refused to meet his. “Maybe not. But sometimes, love isn’t enough. Sometimes it just isn’t. It doesn't suffice because the brain can’t love. It can’t.”

And that is where it breaks.

PART 2

[lightningant]

not necessarily an ask - just wanted to say

you are 100% one of my favorite blogs right now. i found VoV on tiktok and decided to try a tomarry fic for the first time and genuinely fell in love with it - but more than that i ADORE reading all your takes. you have such an intrinsic understanding of the characters that is just absolutely fascinating and always bring up things i never would have even thought of

just wanted to say thank you for being wildly interesting and sharing all your thoughts with us!

Thank you! I am glad to be people's first Tomarry, especially considering it's been getting pretty popular within its own right.

I'm actually a bit of an Ulysses Ogre - my skill isn't in strong comprehension or observation, I'm actually a pretty shallow reader, but rather in applying information I'm given (both from the books and from Posts On The Internet) and extrapolating while adhering as close to the framework as I can. IDK how to put it...like I understood all the metaphors in the film Sinners very easily, the reading comprehension is there, but the foundational root of the allegory (vampirism = homogeneous WASP cultural values accessing minority communities through those deemed the most acceptable to white society, and rejecting vampirism is to reject making yourself palatable to white culture) was something I had to have explained to me by people who are smarter than I am. Big-picture analysis is something I'm very weak with.

This is also why so much of my meta is just making shit up that sounds interesting. Extrapolated too close to the sun. This is a really terrible habit of mine that often goes out of control but it does introduce a lot of fresh ideas because I'm too locked in on stretching the character like taffy to care about fanon.

[not-poignant]

Hi,

I'm not sure how to approach this without sounding like an ignorant asshole, but I'll give it a go.

I'm from a country where the Trans movement isn’t very visible, and most of what I know about it comes from the internet. I’ve never truly understood gender dysphoria. I’ve tried to listen and put myself in others' shoes, but I struggled to be genuinely empathetic. Instead, I just tried to be supportive because it was expected of me, without really getting it.

It might sound silly, but reading Underline the Black made me stop and think… Wait, is this what I think it is? Reading Efnisien’s internal monologues and introspection made me feel something—maybe not from the same circumstances, but in a way that something inside my brain clicked, and I finally saw where the pain was coming from.

I guess what I really want to say is thank you. Thank you for helping me begin to understand and for broadening my perspective. It might sound small, but it’s something I deeply appreciate. I’ve been trying for a long time.

I do feel a bit foolish realizing that it took an ABO fanfic for me to get it… but at the same time, I was also reading about your real-life experiences. Or at least, that’s how it seemed to me. Forgive me if I’m wrong.

You have an incredible talent for expression.

Anon, until you know otherwise, everyone has to start somewhere. This applies to unlearning our biases and prejudices, which we all have for something, or many things, until we unlearn them. The fact that you've even tried to be supportive of something you don't really understand is still important, and still matters. It's a step into understanding, even if you don't have it yet.

I don't think it's foolish that it took you a story to realise what you've realised! This is actually exactly why representation of diversity (in gender, sexuality, culture, race, etc.) is so important in fiction. Because it's in fiction we can be free to explore concepts that are different to our own, or that challenge us, or make us see the world differently. This is why it's so important to know it's possible to identify with a trans character, or a POC character, or a character from a different culture to ours etc. Because that's when we humanise what we previously saw as like, different, Other, hard to understand. We go 'oh that's...really relatable actually, I think I'd feel the same way if that was my experience of life' or 'I don't know if I'd feel the same way but I really understand where that person is coming from.'

Gender dysphoria is complex, and different for different people. Being able to write it metaphorically through Efnisien's journey has been really interesting for me personally, because I've been able to depict both the inner conflict of knowing that your being is not...automatically going to be accepted as normal no matter what, unless you stifle or suffocate yourself, alongside the true euphoria and joy that can come with living as your best life, or your very self.

I have once seen a good analogy which is simply: Imagine from tomorrow onwards, everyone uses the pronouns you don't associate with yourself. You are bullied and mocked unless you wear clothing that is opposite to how you want to appear to others. You are put down and treated as psychologically abnormal for finding joy in true expression, even when that expression doesn't actually hurt anyone else at all. And now tell yourself that even your loved ones, when you desperately try to explain how wrong it all feels to be treated as so different to your true self, they explain that it's just mental illness, or that you're just confused, or that you don't understand yourself, and condescend to you, and treat you like they somehow have always known you better than you know yourself. And that's when you realise you might have to choose between your true self, and your family and loved ones who don't understand, or worse, hate you.

And then imagine that's the rest of your life, but it could change in an instant, if all of society just accepted that you are who you say you are! That all of your depression, and oppression, and suffocation could literally just vanish, if everyone was like 'oh sure actually, you want those pronouns? Cool! You want to wear this clothing? I like it!!'

And that journey is very tough in the real world, even in more accepting places (the US is clear evidence of this). In Underline the Black, I get to put Efnisien in a very specific space, and show the journey in a kind of specific way that isolates it and speaks through metaphor.

My experiences are different to Efnisien's, though I am trans, I never actually started out wanting to write a 1:1 trans narrative. Like, in this universe, "conventionally" trans people exist too. Efnisien's experience is a new thing, and a separate thing, but still - as we can see - a very good metaphor as well. I like telling parts of my story, but only small parts. I am more interested in...telling healing stories where I can watch a character heal and go 'oh I would like more of that for myself, as well.'

(Also, it's better to just say omegaverse, or AOB, etc. because a/b/o without the dashes is a slur in Australia, and while I know most people don't live here! We try to avoid slurs from other countries when we can. And we can only know to do that once someone tells us!)

But yeah, no, you don't sound like an ignorant asshole at all. You sound like someone who has learned something, and has gained more understanding, and was open to doing that, and honestly anon if more people came to something they didn't understand from your perspective, acceptance and love would be a lot easier to teach people.

It's so important to read stories about characters who aren't quite like us, or aren't like us at all, because that's when we realise just how much we actually do share so many similarities, and why our differences matter too.

Anyway thank you for sharing your message with me! I really appreciated it.

[aspoonofsugar]

what do you of Charlie as a main character, her development through season 1 , and how her development will continue in season 2 now that Sir Pentious is in heaven and the Vees being the main antagonists.

Hi!

I looooooooooooooove Charlie <3 She is my second favorite character in the whole Hellaverse (after Lucifer) and I think she is one of my favorite protagonists ever.

As a main character, I like her for three reasons.

Charlie is at the centre of her story. I HATE when the story tells us the protagonist is important, but they end up having no impact whatsoever. Charlie is instead very active and shapes the conflict, in both good ways and bad ways. She comes up with the Hazbin Hotel project, she goes to meet Adam, she has the idea of speaking with Sera. It is her passion, which inspires both Angel and Pentious to try to be better. It is her bravery, which irks Adam and has him target the hotel. It is her and Vaggie, who find a way to protect Hell. Basically, you take Charlie away, the story disappears.

Charlie is very flawed. The second worse thing after a protagonist who does nothing is a protagonist who is always right. Thankfully Charlie is a disaster. She fails to both listen to others and to express herself. She wants to redeem people, but has no idea how. She doesn't understand neither others nor herself. Even when she is right, she is so for the wrong reasons. Charlie is a person with a lot of potential. She is powerful, inventive, charismatic, smart and determined. And yet, she fails to capitalize on all these talents because she doesn't wanna face the negative things about herself and the world. She is Miss Repression.

Charlie is a complex character. In fact, I think she is more complex than people give her credit for. A good example of this is her motivations. Charlie has two reasons to pursue her Hazbin Hotel Project:

She wants to save the sinners and to build a better Kingdom (selfless reason) > external journey

She wants to matter and to be needed by others (selfish reason) > internal journey

A good way to understand this double journey is to look at Charlie's two major inspirations.

CHARLIE = RAPUNZEL + JACK SKELLINGTON

Design-wise Charlie is a mix between Disney's Rapunzel and Jack Skellington.

Both Charlie and Rapunzel are blond princesses that wear their hair tied into a long braid. Not only that, but their hair is linked to their inner magic:

Rapunzel's hair is associated with the sun, so it can both heal and explode into a beam of light.

Charlie's hair is a metaphor of her feelings. She usually represses her emotions, so her hair is restrained. However, when she enters her demon form and unleashes her power, her hair gets untied.

Both Charlie and Jack Skellington are tall, white, humanoid demons, who wear tuxedos with bow ties. Charlie's allusion to Jack is even made official in some arts:

So, Charlie looks like both a Disney Princess and the Pumpkin King. What about it? Well, the point is that the Princess of Hell doesn't just look the part, but shares deep similarities with both characters.

Charlie is a (tame) deconstruction of the Disney Princess archetype. She is a princess, who is cheerful, optimistic, selfless, good to the bone and likes singing. So, everyone loves her right? Wrong. The world around her isn't as easily impressed by her spirit, but misunderstands it and mocks her. So, Charlie is basically Rapunzel if Raps were met with a cynical world the moment she escaped the tower:

He's got a dream He's got a dream See, I ain't as cruel and vicious as I seem Though I do like breaking femurs You can count me with the dreamers Like everybody else I've got a dream

Inside of every demon is a rainbow! Inside every sinner is a shiny smile! Inside of every creepy hatchet-wielding maniac, Is a jolly, happy, cupcake-loving child!

Rapunzel enters a sinister inn, shares her personal dream and is validated and understood by a bunch of bandits. Charlie explains her well-meaning goal to all of Hell and is humiliated and laughed at by everyone.

Charlie is a Disney Princess in Hell, who wants to grow into a leader who inspires others. However, it does not come easily to her, like it does to Rapunzel.

Charlie's external journey is a deconstruction and reconstruction of the Disney Princess archetype. Which struggles must a Disney Princess face in Hell? How can a Disney Song get through literal demons? How can Charlie maintain her idealism in the hellish world she is in?

Charlie and Jack face very similar struggles. They are the royals of a Kingdom full of fear, screams and pain. However, both are tired of it and decide to change it:

Jack wants to bring Christmas (warm, joy and goodness) in Halloween Town

Charlie founds the Hazbin Hotel to redeem sinners, so those people the universe itself has dismissed as lost

The intentions are good, but Jack and Charlie are not completely selfless, as they pursue them.

This is clear for Jack. The Pumpkin King is forcing Halloween Town to embrace a twisted version of Christmas, so that he can fill his existential void. Deep down Jack wants to change, but he embraces a superficial transformation (Sandy Klaus), instead than a deeper one (Sally).

Charlie is the same, even if she might not look like it. The Princess of Hell wants to redeem sinners, so that she can redeem her parents and so her very existence. She wants to make Hell a better place, sure. However, she wants to do so to prove she has value. Similarly to Jack, she is also superficial in her methods. Jack thinks all he has to do to understand Christmas is to color himself red:

Charlie thinks all she has to do to save others is to give them hugs and fluffy clouds:

Both look for superficial solutions to deep internal issues and complicated societal problems.

Charlie's internal journey is similar to Jack's. Both struggle with their most vulnerable and hidden parts (their shadow), wear masks (personas) and grow thanks to romantic partners (their animus/anima).

CHARLIE = A NEGLECTED CHILD

As a character, Charlie's two main inspirations are Rapunzel and Jack Skellington. As a person in-universe, Charlie's two main influences are Lucifer and Lilith.

Charlie is a mix of her parents, both physically and psychologically:

She looks a lot like her father and has inherited his idealistic disposition and love for dreams

She has long golden hair like her mom and wants to become like her and inspire others with her songs

What's more, it is obvious her parents are the driving force behind many of Charlie's actions. Deep down the Princess of Hell is nothing, but a child from "divorced parents". As a result, she exhibits many traits that can be tracked back to Lucifer and Lilith's separation and neglect.

Charlie deeply misses her family and she is unconsciously trying to get it back. This is why she chooses to establish her Hazbin Hotel in a decadent building, which is full of family pictures and of symbols linked to her parents. Even the room she shares with Vaggie was obviously Lucifer and Lilith's:

This choice has a double meaning. On the one hand it represents Charlie's willingness to restore her parents' dream. On the other hand it is a hidden desire for her family to come back to her. Fully healed and together.

Her issues go deeper when we look at Charlie's relationship with both her parents. Lucifer and Lilith share similar positive traits- they are both charismatic and fierce dreamers - and negative traits - they have both been neglecting Charlie. However, Charlie has compartmentalized her feelings for both in a specific way:

She blames all her parents' misdeeds on Lucifer. She is quick to justify Lilith leaving for 7 years. However, she openly calls out Lucifer's coldness and neglect.

She projects all her parents' positive traits on Lilith. She sees her Hazbin Hotel project as a way to honor Lilith's legacy, but episode 5 makes clear her dream is strongly inspired by Lucifer too.

Essentially, Charlie sees the world in black and white and this is true for her parents too. Despite this, many things do not add up. For example, she says she admires mostly Lilith and is not close with Lucifer at all. However, the way she looks suggests something different.

Some people pointed out that as a teen Charlie used to dress more feminine, like Lilith.

As a young adult, Charlie wears more masculine clothes. Not only that, but her jacket strongly resembles Lucifer's one in his youth.

In short, Charlie says she looks up to her mom, whereas she is estranged from her dad. However, she also tries to resemble her dad and season 1 reveals how much she loves him. I would not be surprised if season 2 were to go deeper into her probably contradictory feelings towards Lilith.

Finally, I wonder what Charlie's feelings are when it comes to Lilith and Lucifer's original sin. After all, Lilith and Lucifer are the ones who brought evil into the world and I doubt such a moral person like Charlie is untouched by it. I wonder if her determination to save Sinners partly stems from some kind of guilt or shame she feels towards her family. It is as if she is trying to redeem her parents' forbidden love and so her own birth:

Charlie: Don't worry, Mom. I'll make you proud.

She wants her parents to be proud of her, but maybe she too wants to be proud of her family.

CHARLIE'S ARC IN SEASON 1

Charlie has both an external journey and an internal journey. How do they play out in season 1?

Internal journey

I have discussed Charlie's internal journey in season 1 in several metas. In short, the two key characters for Charlie's development in season 1 are Lucifer and Vaggie (yes, Angel and Alastor are pivotal too, but I am simplifying things here):

Lucifer challenges Charlie to see positive traits in others. She initially thinks of Lucifer in a negative way. However, after their shared song Charlie becomes able to understand her dad more and sees his hidden light. This realization makes her more self-confident and ready to face a new challenge in Heaven.

Vaggie challenges Charlie to accept negative traits in others. Charlie sees only Vaggie's positive qualities and ignores her flaws. However, after she discovers Vaggie's past as an exorcist she is forced to confront her girlfriend's repressed shadow. This realization has her face her own inner problems and helps her grow.

In other words, Lucifer and Vaggie help Charlie get more in tune with different parts of herself, both positive and negative:

Lucifer helps Charlie express her potential. By showing to his daughter a more positive part of himself, he gives her hope. Moreover, he acknowledges her dream and talent, so Charlie grows determined. As a result, she is more direct as she faces both Sera and Adam in Heaven.

Vaggie forces Charlie to face her vulnerability. By showing her girlfriend a negative part of herself, Vaggie breaks Charlie's coping mechanism. As a result, Charlie struggles with some of her repressed issues and grows. This is why Charlie can express her negative feelings more openly after her fight with Vaggie.

So, Lucifer and Vaggie do not only help Charlie in her inner journey, but accompany her in her external one, as well.

External journey

Charlie's external journey is her evolution into an effective political leader. A good way to summarize it is to use Charlie's songs.

Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow/ Happy Day in Hell

Charlie's first songs both work as a starting point of her arc.

Both describe Charlie's objective:

There'll be no more fire, And no more screams Just puppy dog kisses, and cotton candy dreams And puffy-wuffy clouds, you're gonna be like "Wow!" Once you check in with meeeee~!

Charlie: If I can show them the dream I've dreamed That any soul can change! Vaggie: Those angels' minds are hard to change Charlie: Then they will know everyone can be redeemed From the evil to the strange! Vaggie: They're bloodthirsty and deranged!

Charlie wants to bring happiness in Hell, but she herself does not really know her people, so she fails.

Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow shows it directly. Charlie sings to the Sinners calling them "cretins, sluts, losers" and she tries to force her feelings on them. Well, it does not work very well :P

Happy Day in Hell shows it indirectly. Charlie sings about Hell and mentions two places (Cannibal Town and the Porn Studio). She speaks of them fondly, but later on we discover she knows them very little. Moreover, she refuses to listen to Vaggie and ignores that everybody else does not match her song. She sings about today being a happy day, while the people around her suffer.

So, in the beginning Charlie is just terrible at communicating. This is brought up even in the song Hell Is Forever, where she fails both to pitch her hotel and to fight Adam's narrative.

It Starts With Sorry & More Than Anything

As the series goes on, Charlie starts getting through to people. She starts with:

Sir Pentious - He is the first Sinner Charlie convinces to join her Hotel onscreen. She gets through to him by forgiving him and believing in him when no-one does. The Vees consider him a failure and Vaggie and Angel are ready to attack him. Pentious himself is about to give up. However, Charlie doesn't and she inspires him to truly join the project. Charlie has her ideals tested and succeeds.

Lucifer - He is a person Charlie loves and deep down admires. So, it is extremely important that Charlie manages to get through to him. Charlie manages to express some of her deepest feelings. She shows Lucifer her real self and is rewarded.

You Didn't Know

Thanks to her successes, Charlie grows confident enough she can openly challenge Heaven. What's interesting is that if in Hell Is Forever Charlie lacks a retort, here she finds one:

Charlie and Emily: If Hell is forever, then Heaven must be a lie If angels can do whatever, and remain in the sky The rules are shades of gray when you don't do as you say When you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again

She is able to finally tell Adam off and to counter his philosophy.

Ready For This

After facing her "political rival", Charlie is asked once again to inspire her people. Charlie herself is not particularly sure she is gonna succeed:

Rosie: Well how do you normally explain your hotel? Charlie: By singing. But that never works.

However, she pulls it off. The reason behind her success is that she behaves differently from Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow:

Charlie: Have you ever wanted something That was so clear in your mind that you could taste it? Susan: You mean like human flesh? Charlie: Uhh, sort of.. It's a feeling like a rumbling in your gut That you could finally be faced with A billion needy faces, I guess what I mean to say is For the first time in my life I might have to be ready for this Ready to be the one who's leading from the front Gotta come into my own Gotta come into my throne Gotta take charge and defend my only home And although I kinda feel unsteady Now I need to be ready for this

She doesn't put her feelings and her dream in the spotlight. Rather, she addresses the cannibals in a way that they can empathize with her and understand where she is coming from. In this way, she makes the first step towards truly becoming a good leader:

Charlie: That's a start! 'Cause right now, we need a leader And it seems to me that Destiny has picked me to be that If you'll permit me So who's with me?

Finale

The Finale is a reprise of Happy Day In Hell. However, there are two main differences.

1- In Happy Day In Hell Charlie sings alone, whereas here Lucifer starts the reprise:

Lucifer: Come on little lady, why the frown? In the last 10,000 years You're the first one to change this town You can do this, now I know it! For your story has just begun You can't quit now. Hell, you owe it! There's still damage to be undone You've changed my mind, you've touched their hearts Found the good in souls gone bad The stage is wrecked, the crowd is gone But by God, Charlie! The show, it must go on! Everyone: We can do this We can build it Best hotel that you've ever seen! Twice the bedrooms, we can fill it Lucifer: With more sinners than you can dream! Lucifer and Vaggie: It starts with you, Lucifer, Vaggie and Angel Dust: You know it's true, Everyone: Fulfill your destiny!

And Charlie's loved ones all join in. So, Charlie might not have managed to inspire all of Hell, just yet. Still, she has found a small group of people who support her and are ready to sing her song.

2- In Happy Day In Hell Charlie naively thinks Hell can be fixed in a day (today is gonna be a happy day). Here instead she has accepted time is needed:

Everyone: We can do this (Charlie: We can do this) We'll be better (Charlie: We'll be better) Though redemption may take a while (Charlie: Though it may take a while) Wayward sinners, clear their ledger

So, tomorrow is going to be a happy day in hell.

In short, Charlie goes from a simplistic girl unable to communicate to a more mature adult in tune with her and others' emotions. Sure, she still has a long way to go. Yet, she has made a first step in the right direction.

HAZBIN HOTEL SEASON 2

We don't know how season 2 is gonna play out. However, we can do some hypothesis.

Internal journey

Season 1 focused on Charlie's relationship with Lucifer. The bond starts as strained, but it gets better throughout the season. It is possible season 2 will focus on Charlie and Lilith's relationship. After all, Charlie puts her mom on a pedestal, but all pedestals must break for a child to grow.

I also wonder if Pentious will work as a foil to Lilith, like he is to Lucifer.

It is no secret Sir Pentious and Lucifer are foils in season 1. Both are the convinced by Charlie to support their project. Both have a snake motif. Both are pivotal in the final fight. Lucifer falls from Heaven because of love, whereas Pentious rises to Heaven because of love.

At the same time, season 1 ends with a strong parallel between Pentious and Lilith. Both are two people Charlie misses and they are both in Heaven. From the little teaser with Buxter, it is also obvious Charlie is not dealing with her grief over Pentious well. It is possible her repressed feelings over Pentious's death might mirror her pain over Lilith leaving. Finally, Pentious and Cherri are a couple separated by Heaven and Hell. They might work as interesting foils to Lucifer and Lilith.

External journey

Season 1 focused on Charlie's political battle against Adam, as an example of a conflict between two Kingdoms (Hell and Heaven). Season 2 is gonna focus more on the Vees as antagonists, which means we are gonna explore more The Pride Ring's inner politics. This means Charlie will be tested as a leader in her own home turf.

In general, the story has made it very clear the Vees are negative foils of the Hotel Crew. The current situation in the Pride Ring is that the Ring is divided in an endless battle among Overlords. In particular, the Vees are a new generation of Overlords (hence their links to new medias), who want to take over after the old generation (Carmilla, Zestial, etc.)

This is why Velvette tries to provoke a fight with Heaven. She knows that if Hell goes to war, there is going to be a huge shift in the power balance in Hell. Still, her ulterior motifs are obvious and Carmilla and Zestial see through her. So, Carmilla refuses to give Velvette the information she needs. However, the Weapon Dealer is much more open with Vaggie because the exorcist is much more selfless and honest. In short, Velvette and Vaggie are foils when it comes to Carmilla and their foiling mirrors a broader juxtaposition between the Hazbin Hotel and the Vees. In short, Hell does need a new leadership, but it will be Charlie and her crew who will rise, not the Vees.

This is made clear in the foiling between Vox and Charlie, which starts in episode 2. There Vox is quick to dismiss Pentious once he fails. Charlie instead welcomes Pentious in, despite his mistakes. The two leaders have opposite ideas when it comes to people. Vox sees them as assets, Charlie sees them as individuals. These different approaches show throughout the season.

Vox states he will protect the people of Hell at the beginning of the series:

Reporter: Mr. Vox! What are your thoughts about the new extermination deadline? Vox: My dear people! We at VoxTek Enterprises have always been at the forefront of innovation. And now, with this new oncoming threat, we are shifting our focus, to your protection. We are pleased to announce- VoxTek Angelic Security is coming soon! Trust us, with YOUR safety.

However, by the end he is watching the fight safe on a sofa:

The one who truly fights for the people of Hell is truly Charlie:

Charlie: Tomorrow, the Exorcist Angels will face a Hell ready to defend itself and win! Vaggie: Yeah! Yeah, we will! Tell 'em, baby! Charlie: Yes! And we are-we are going to win! But in case we don't, I want you all to know... that getting to know you has been the biggest honor of my life. Whatever redemption really means, I know you all tried. I have seen the good in all of you. And it's...I-I'm just...I love you all, so much.

And she manages to stop the exterminations and to save Hell.

I am expecting season 2 to explore these opposite factions and their foiling more.

These are my thoughts for now. When it comes to Charlie, we could discuss much more about her motifs, like the apple one, the religious one and how all the people in the Hazbin Hotel embody a specific archetype to help Charlie grow. However, this post is already enough long as it is :)

Have a nice day and thank you for the ask! Also, sorry for the long wait!

[agirlwithdemonblood]

Smoke and Storms

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Summary: After crossing a line in their relationship, Dean struggles to express his feelings, hiding behind bad metaphors and fear of losing the person he loves most. But when Y/N finally pushes him to be honest, they both realize that some things—like love—are inevitable.

Warnings: Angst, sadDean!

Check out my Masterlist here!

"You're not listening!"

I huffed, pressing my back against the cool concrete wall, staring back at the older Winchester. "No, I'm just not understanding what you're trying to say!"

Dean pushed off the wall, running a hand through his hair before standing in front of me. "I—I’m not good at explaining, using my words."

I frowned at his vulnerability. I wanted to understand—I really did—but he was making no sense, and it was frustrating. He was never like this, never this lost.

An hour ago, he came home from a hunt looking as defeated as he always did when things went sideways. Normally, he’d find me. He’d sneak into my room, wrap his arms around me like I was his anchor, inhaling every bit of comfort I had to offer. And then we’d talk. For hours, sometimes. I always understood him—every sigh, every subtle shift in his tone, every weighted pause.

But last night, everything changed.

We crossed a boundary. We hooked up. He was feeling low, and so was I, and we used each other to feel better. It wasn’t just comfort; it was something else—something deeper, something unspoken. I thought it was everything we had ever wanted.

Until tonight.

Until I reached for him, and he moved my hands off his shoulders. Until he walked away from me like none of it happened.

Maybe I should’ve given him space, but he was my best friend. For three years, it had been us—always us. We promised nothing would change, that no matter what happened, our friendship wouldn’t break.

But now he was acting stranger than usual, dodging my touch, throwing up walls, speaking in circles. And worse, he wasn’t making sense. Dean Winchester was using metaphors.

And not just any metaphors—bad ones.

"It’s like—I don’t know—it’s like trying to hold onto smoke. The second I think I have it, it slips right through my fingers."

I blinked. "What?"

He exhaled sharply, pacing. "Or—or like driving a car with no brakes. You know you're headed straight for a wreck, but you can't stop."

I raised a brow. "Dean—"

"Or like—damn it, Y/N, it’s like standing in the ocean during a storm. The waves keep hitting, pulling you under, and just when you think you're okay, another one knocks you down."

I opened my mouth, then closed it. "So... I’m the storm? Or the car crash? Or—?"

He groaned, rubbing his hands down his face. "See? This is why I don’t do words."

I sighed, crossing my arms. "Then just say what you mean. Stop hiding behind half-baked metaphors and talk to me."

He went quiet, leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed on the cracks in the floor. "I just... maybe we are inevitable, and I can't stop it. I can't protect you."

The words lingered between us, heavy and unspoken. But I still didn’t understand.

And that’s what scared me. Because I had never been confused around Dean.

Now? I felt like I was losing him.

A sigh escaped his lips before he turned and walked away, leaving the air cold and lonely in his wake.

That must’ve been my answer.

I swallowed hard, forcing back the tears threatening to spill as I rushed to my room. This was it. This was the end. My worst nightmare come true.

It took an hour to calm down. An hour to silence the voices screaming in my head, telling me I had lost him for good.

And it also took an hour for Dean to finally come back.

The soft sound of his knuckles against my door made me turn. He looked just like I did—lost, confused, sad, scared.

Without a word, I lifted the blanket, letting him slip inside. He stripped off his shirt and jeans before climbing in next to me, sharing my warmth.

The silence stretched on—too long—but finally, he spoke, voice thick with regret.

"I know I wasn't making any sense. I'm not good at expressing myself."

I reached up, stroking his cheek, letting him process. Maybe patience was what he needed all along.

His green eyes met mine, filled with sadness. "I thought last night was a big step for us. When I woke up with you in my arms, I was happy. Excited. But then I got scared because..."

He hesitated, and I wouldn't allow it. Not when he was so close to making me understand.

"Go on," I whispered, no judgment in my voice.

He swallowed hard. "I've never felt the way I do, and it scares me. I don’t know what it is or what it means."

"How do you feel?"

He hesitated again, his hands trembling against my stomach, his eyes darting. He was terrified—to speak, to get it wrong. And I was terrified to hear it.

"I—I felt... I don’t know."

I scooted closer, wrapping my arms tightly around him. "Dean, it’s me. You can tell me anything."

His hand came to my cheek, thumb brushing my skin like he needed the contact to keep himself grounded. "I felt like my heart was full. When I got up to shower, I missed you. I felt like I needed to be back in bed with you or I was going to die. And the entire hunt—I couldn’t stop thinking about you. This was different. It wasn’t just a hookup. It wasn’t just some drunk dare. It felt..."

"It felt like love," I finished for him.

He nodded slowly, finally understanding himself. And suddenly, so did I.

He wasn’t pushing me away because he didn’t want this. He was pushing me away because he did. Because he was scared.

"Dean, look at me."

It took a moment, but when he did, his eyes shone with unshed tears.

"You’re right," I said softly. "It did feel like love. And we are inevitable. No matter how hard you try to fight it, no matter how much it scares you, we are meant to be, I can feel that. You can feel that. That doesn’t mean you can’t protect me. It just means you’re more afraid of losing me. And I get it. I’m afraid, too."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. "I don’t... I don’t want to be scared. I don’t want to feel this way."

"Then we stop."

His eyes widened, sitting up slightly. "What?"

"We stop. We mark this as a mistake, and we move on. We’ll always be best friends, but maybe we can’t do the relationship part."

I didn’t mean it. But I needed him to see that losing me was far scarier than loving me.

His grip tightened on my arm. "W-Wait..."

I smiled sadly. "I’m waiting. But I need to know what you want."

Silence. And then—

"I don’t want that."

I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Me neither."

He exhaled shakily. "What do we do?"

I shrugged, snuggling back into him. "What we’ve always done. We’re there for each other. Just because this became something more doesn’t mean anything’s changed. You’re still my best friend. I still love you—just in a different way now."

His arms tightened around me, lips pressing to my forehead. "I love you, too... I think I can do that. Go back to normal."

I smiled. "Good. You scared me there, Winchester. I thought I lost you."

He chuckled, pulling me close. "Maybe a bit, but you always know how to find me."

A slow grin spread across my face. "You know, for a guy who claims he isn’t good with words, you sure know how to make a mess with them."

He groaned, burying his face in my shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. My metaphors suck."

I laughed, running my fingers through his hair. "Oh, they’re awful. Smoke? Storms? A brake-less car? What even was that?"

He chuckled, his breath warm against my skin. "Shut up. You knew what I meant."

"Mmm, debatable. But next time? Just say 'I love you' and spare us both the headache."

He pulled back just enough to look at me, a smirk playing on his lips. "Fine. I love you."

I grinned. "See? So much easier."

He chuckled again, pulling me tighter against him. "Yeah, yeah. Just don’t expect me to be all poetic about it."

I smirked, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Wouldn’t dream of it, Winchester."

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

[hulloitsdani]

PLS go on another rant about Kiran Fire Emblem I’m begging you 🙏

I love to read you yapping💞💞💞 I like your TedTalks

:D

Aw thank you stranger! I’m happy to provide!

So recently I feel that I have been putting Kiran Fire Emblem through the wringer. Which is all well and good, but I believe it’s time for them to have good things. As a treat. This oddly takes the form of book 5.

In case it’s your first time witnessing my monologues or are in need of a refresher, let me provide a little context. Kiran had a life before being summoned to Askr and a major part of their arc is suppressing just how deeply that loss affects them. Like it or not, it bleeds into everything they do. This all culminates into book 4, which was an all time low for their character. A lot of issues all started blowing up in their face all at once, last but not least being the grief they hold from losing their entire world. It very nearly kills them. It was an extremely bad time.

However, lessons were learned. Since then, Kiran has been trying to vocalize their discomforts more. It’s a bit weird though, considering Anna and Sharena witnessed firsthand their little meltdown in the realm of dreams. It’s… damnit it’s just weird! Really weird! Most of their cards are on the table now and it’s weird! It’s not like their friends heard about this stuff by talking to them, they SAW it nearly KILL THEM. The dynamic is, understandably, different than it would otherwise be.

If they weren’t willing trying, Anna would pry their issues from their mouth with crowbar. Hell, sometimes she does anyway if she gets, in her own words, “a hunch.” Sharena meanwhile has been very pampering. They didn’t know she could be more pampering than she already was, but oh boy were they wrong. Three homemade meals a day guaranteed under her watch. And if they’re being honest, it does feel very nice, which ultimately makes them feel awful because the realm of dreams was rough for her too. She should also… they don’t know. They feel bad. She has reassured them many times that it’s all good and that this helps her too. And how even if it didn’t, she loves them and would do this stuff anyway. They don’t doubt that anymore but… they still feel bad. They feel bad about feeling good. It’s all a complicated mess. They are telling Alfonse about this though, which makes it feel less overwhelming. His insights help. He provides a bit of a sanity check.

It is within this state of recovery that book 5 occurs. Considering the weaponry of their enemy, Kiran ends up talking a lot more openly about their world. Delving into the literal and metaphorical mechanics of it. And it’s oddly fun! Alfonse has a leg up since he’s the only one who has been curious enough to ask prior to this. So there’s many scenarios where a.) something Kiran previous told him finally clicks now that he has a better visual for what they mean, which leads to b.) Alfonse and Kiran trying their best to explain to Anna and Sharena. It’s an absolutely ridiculous sight to behold— Sharena catches on a bit quicker since she’s pretty good at visualizing things, but Anna has no such boon and is STRUGGLING. Kiran and Alfonse aren’t exactly teachers either, so it’s a fun time.

Then they meet Reginn.

It feels obvious, in hindsight, that they were bound to click with each other. At first though, it seems like it’s going to be the same dynamic Kiran always has with the new stray the Order picks up. Polite friendliness alongside genuine empathy with a side of reassuring presence. The group agrees to help and Kiran gets cracking on how to make that a reality. But then something interesting happens. As Reginn speaks in further vulnerable detail about her plight to them, Kiran begins… talking. Like actually talking. Talking about their family and their life prior to Askr.

It starts small. The both of them are fixing up Reginn’s metal horse (the Order broke it in their initial fight with her) and she asks how they know so much about her country’s technology. She knows they’re from an alien world and, well, they aren’t proficient at this by any means— but they know enough to be helpful. And for once, Kiran is honest. “…My mom was a mechanic.” They say, not turning to face her. “She, uh, knew how to fix this kind of stuff. Taught us a little bit.”

It’s a small snippet of information that has taken five seasons to wring out of Kiran, and Reginn of all people is the first one to hear it. It’s way easier to tell her, for a multitude of reasons. One of them being exactly that— there’s no build up. Reginn didn’t see their book 4 meltdown. She doesn’t know how big of deal this is for them. That’s good. It takes the pressure off and makes it easier. For Reginn, this is information they offered casually and willingly from the beginning. And in doing this, they keep talking and both end up relating to each other rather deeply. It quickly becomes obvious that Kiran isn’t simply helping her out of the goodness of their heart, but because they personally relate to her plight. Kiran was extremely close with their siblings, and now they may never seen them again. They don’t want the same thing to happen to other people. This recontextualizes a lot of their actions, but it importantly builds trust. Kiran is immediately knocked off this pedestal as some morally pious figure and into a human person in her eyes. Someone who gets it and wants to help.

This creates a delightful dynamic between them. She is immediately more than friend, as that’s pretty explicitly what the Askr trio are to them. This is different. It’s familial. Reginn is working with information and a cultural context pretty perfectly equipped to understand them in this way. And, considering the losses they’ve both experienced, they crave this placement in each other’s lives. It’s healing. Kiran lost their family and Reginn’s family hasn’t been a family since Fafnir took the throne. It’s far from a replacement, but it’s definitely filling a void. They both needed this.

Gods, they both needed this.

They needed someone to respond to playful quips with a laugh and a clap back. They needed someone to triple dog dare to sling a spit ball into the back of a god’s head. They needed someone to people watch with as a late night to early morning watch shift wrapped up. They needed a shoulder to lean on after Otr finally said all the quiet parts out loud. They needed someone to understand some parts about them a bit more inherently than either are used to, for better or worse.

Without this, neither of them get better. Not anytime soon, anyway. But luckily, Reginn and Kiran entered each other’s lives at just the right time.

[aerinmoriarty]

Taylor Swift frequently references other media in her work in a number of ways. Visual references to films like Wizard of Oz in her music videos, auditory references to Jimmy Eat World in Clara Bow, Dead Poets Society references in TTPD… I speculate she uses dozens if not hundreds of pieces of media to add context to her songs and performances.

It’s important to remember that at her root, Taylor is far more than “just a pop star” or even “just a performance artist.” At her root, Taylor is a storyteller, and one who has an enormous array of methods and modalities of storytelling. Writing songs is just one.

Because of this, because Taylor loves cramming as many layers of meaning as she can into every word or phrase, and because Crestfallen by Smashing Pumpkins is one of my all time favorite songs, it didn’t take me long after discovering Champagne Problems to wonder…

Wait. Does “Crestfallen on the landing” have multiple layers of meaning?

Not just “I’m feeling Crestfallen while I’m standing here on this landing” but also…

…the song Crestfallen is literally playing (or metaphorically running through her mind) while this event is occurring?

And so that got me just considering Champagne Problems more through that lens, adding that context of Crestfallen, taking two of the most heartbreaking songs from two artists I love…

(sometimes I think I just enjoy breaking my own heart)

And especially because I have always viewed Champagne Problems as a karma-type scenario, a tale of 2 engagements/marriages. One where Taylor leaves her muse standing alone, one where her muse leaves Taylor standing alone…

And Taylor understanding in that moment, finally, the pain she’d caused.

Now look, are these literal engagements/marriages, are they another instance of Taylor explaining business using relationships as metaphors, are they maybe less formal in the sense that they’re less weddings and more agreements to come out together or handfastings or agreements to be more exclusive or to prioritize the relationship over the career?

Who knows if we will ever know, the way Miss “keep it secret, keep it safe,” “every bait and switch was a work of art,” “I can show you lies,” tends to write and rewrite and contextualize and recontexualize everything in her life. And hell, it may even be more than 2 specific scenarios being discussed here and she’s talking about events that have been cyclical in her life…. *throws up hands*

Either way, It’s interesting to consider and it’s heartrending if you layer the added sentiment of Crestfallen atop it.

And it’s also interesting cause Crestfallen came out in 1998 and I know a lot of people theorize Taylor wanted to release a rock album named 1998, and that she’s Easter egged that year in the past so media from this year may be of specific interest to her.

And look, I’m probably never going to have significant evidence that she deliberately intended this, beyond a “general vibe”

But also… I don’t really care? One of the things that has been the most fascinating about developing theories surrounding the Taylor Swift Multimedia Universe and trying to figure out which albums and films and songs and poems and books and performances are being referenced by Taylor in her art and albums and performances is just…

The process of the theorycrafting is exceptionally fun. The process of considering media in the context of Taylor’s art and looking for evidence that they’re connected is extremely fun.

It’s fun in that way a lot of us have lacked since we were in school writing book reports and film analyses for fun.

It’s also fun in a very nostalgia-pilled, memecore fashion that no it’s Becky would absolutely vibe with. And remember: Taylor is seemingly simultaneously existing across many eras right now. She can’t use her social media to meme the way she used to.

But she’s still memeing. Hiding clips and references to all her favorite franchises in her work.

I dunno what point I was trying to make; I kinda just got high and info dumped into my tumblr sooo sorry

[moldyrainbowbutter]

Explaining my Magnus Archives playlist in unnecessary detail!

Triggering topics discussed/mentioned: Unreality, violence, gore/body horror, fear, threats, bugs, compulsions, death, murder, anger/fighting, claustrophobia, self-hatred, depression, smoking, gun violence, elder abuse (Let me know if I forgot anything)

Also there's spoilers. Buckle up everypony

Can't Be Erased — JT Music

Gonna break this one down verse by verse because there's a lot and I don't wanna forget stuff.

The intro, refrain, and first verse match the Stranger and Unknowing really well, with lines about dancing and machines.

"I'm the Dancing Demon / Watch me twirl and hop and spin / I'm quick to give a smile / But I won't forget your sins" is Nikola dancing during the Unknowing. She's usually very smiley and laughing (the intro ends with laughter, so that works too), but she and Sarah are mad at Jon and the Institute for trying to stop them.

The lines, "Welcome home, dear friend / How long we've all been waitin'" can allude to the fact that they needed to wait like a hundred years or so in order to attempt the ritual again after it failed the first time. "All you gotta do is start up the machine" matches the first Unknowing that we hear about, with automata.

"I'm the product of an artist / Whose creations bring delight" is Nikola talking about her creator. "This somber threshold" is a good metaphor for how the rituals sort of create a door into our world for the Fears to enter through. "Just free yourself from reason" is Nikola telling Jon to just accept that the Stranger has won.

On to the 2nd verse, the lines "Is that your heart that's beating / Or illusion you're alive?" pretty accurately represent the feeling of being inside the Unknowing and not understanding what's going on. The rest of that verse, "Collect what's necessary / Keep appeasing the divines / It's me you should be believing / 'Cause he's deceiving you with lies" is the Archives. They're trying to collect the information they need, while appeasing the Eye and trying to figure out how much of what Elias, Jon, and Peter say is true.

Verse 3 is also the Archives. "Lifeless pie cut eyes" is about how they're constantly being watched by an entity that is debatably alive and conscious. The next few lines are the employees trying to quit and being unable to, and deciding that if they're stuck then they might as well investigate what's going on.

The pre-chorus starts by going back to the Stranger. Not only do the lyrics mention masks, the music itself kind of reminds me of carnival music. "Nothing can erase us now" could be either Jon wanting to erase the things the Eye has told him, or Nikola and Sarah's attitudes when they think the Unknowing is about to succeed. "Can you describe the face you saw? / Could it be one you recognize?" goes back to the Eye, asking for statements.

The chorus has the lines "Creators betrayed us / We've got it on tape," which is just perfect because tape recorders. Also, "We've written your fate and it can't be erased" is like the cursed book that predicts people's gruesome deaths.

Verse 4 starts with "I was not always a monster / Once, I was somebody's muse," which describes how the avatars of the Dread Powers usually started out human. "The machine is thumping / And the ink is pumping / Now you need to run / Because the Demon's coming" represents the Fears getting closer and closer as their rituals progress.

The "axe that I don't know how to handle right" in verse 5 can be Jon buying an axe and destroying the table holding the changeling. "Long as he's on one, he cannot be real" reminds me of Sannikov Land, which cannot and does not exist, and never has. I don't know who Joey is because I've never played Bendy and the Ink Machine, but "Got a feeling he and Joey got a deal" can be the Archive employees speculation on whatever deal Elias has with Peter Lukas.

In verse 6, "An unholy bargain, a demonic seal / With a master plan, that I must reveal" fits with the religious themes a lot of the powers use, especially the Dark and Devastation. Jon is determined to reveal whatever plans everyone has. I know she used pills, but Melanie trying to poison Elias works with the line, "a little bit of bleach should do the trick." "I'll never watch another damn cartoon ⁠–⁠ I quit!" is Tim trying to quit.

The 2nd pre-chorus has lines about secrets, which Jon is constantly trying to figure out. "Flood the shop with ink a-flowing" reminds me of the metaphor Jon used of there being a door in his brain with the entire ocean of knowledge behind, and if he opens it he drowns. "We hope you don't think of going / Weigh you down to keep you from floating" represents Peter Lukas trying to weigh Martin down by isolating him, in order to get him to serve the Isolation. "You'll be kept from being lonely" is Jon trying to convince Martin to stay. For the line, "Give your soul, it's what you owe me," I actually connect that to the Eye. I'm pretty sure at least part of what happened to the priest at Hilltop Road was because of the Ceaseless Watcher, because the thing impersonating Father Singh recited a ton of stuff he shouldn't have been able to know. So, since this lyric reminds me of the phrase, "It wants your faith," then it can be about the Eye.

Jonny Rife Pulled a Knife — Vinny Marchi

A ton of people threatened Gertrude Robinson, and each time she basically just dared them to try killing her. The lines, "The older lass was gettin' bored / 'Say, son, this ain't goin' well' (no, this ain't going well)" and "I've heard this a hundred times before" are her staying calm and judging everyone. "So if you wanna peel my skin, get in line" is perfect because she absolutely did get her skin peeled.

BODY BAG — Neoni

The first line, "Police tape, don't cross the line," can be a reference to Section 31. "Can't even have a conversation without you breaking character / Yeah, you going Jason" is Elias being annoyed he can't even have a conversation with Melanie without her trying to kill him. "two-faced / It'll be a cold day in whatever Hell you came from / Before I let you get inside my brain" is Melanie talking to Elias, or Tim talking to Jon.

The pre-chorus and chorus have a lot. "Get in line, get in line / ... / You were not the first to try / Better luck next time / ... / Thought you could put me in a body bag / You tried your best, but it was never gonna last / You know me, I'm always coming back / You can keep your body bag" is Elias, Gertrude, Nikola, and a ton of the other characters being really hard to kill, and proud of it. Same deal with the second verse, the one that starts with "Haha, did you miss me, bitch?" "Why you gotta be that guy? Like / We could've been so tight" is Elias & Peter being annoyed that the Archive employees hate them and won't do what they say.

The bridge, with "Murder in the first degree / Sucks that you didn't succeed / Lock you up and toss the key / Welcome to living dead to me" is Breekon putting Daisy in the Cramped Casket after she killed Hope. "Living dead to me" matches his line, "She took him from me, made us a me, and she doesn't get to die for that."

Mic Check — Sophie Hunter

This song really fits Melanie. She's sick of everything, she's angry, she doesn't really talk to people unrelated to the Institute anymore (the line "I don't talk to my parents" fits that part). "Been feeling myself start to regress / All I wanna be is decent / Yeah I need a pick-me-up" represents how she doesn't want to be so angry all the time, but she is. "I got a devil on my shoulder" alludes to the Slaughter influencing her.

The lyrics about mic checks and stuff match that she was a youtuber/producer before all this. For example, "Mic check / Think I need a factory reset," "Yeah I got a pickup line / It's the pickup mic clipped to my lapel (Rolling!) / And we're live!," "Bitch I still do it for the vine," "Take five! The fire under your ass / Is getting fired," and "I got one foot in the grave and / I got one in the comments."

"Meanwhile I turn my throat to an exhaust pipe" can be Jon starting to smoke again at the end of season 2. "Meanwhile, I take the bait I rage until I'm cross-eyed / Meanwhile, I'm gagging on an apple like I'm hogtied / I'm boiling in a deep fryer trying to win a cockfight / Shut the fuck up bitch I'll win that shit too! / Top of this ten piece like cock-doodle-doo! / Flip off my enemies like what's it to you / They all say it's the end / Not with that attitude!" goes back to Melanie, with her being incredibly angry at everything, partially because everything sucks and partially because the Slaughter is messing with her. This continues with the lines, "I don't like myself and / I don't like you either," "For Chrissakes every single / One of you sounds tired"

Angry Too — Lola Blanc

Another song that's very Melanie related. Her blood is boiling, she's coming unglued, she's seeing red, she's drowning in an ocean of entitled motherfuckers.

"I buried the unseemly urges / Deep down in the ground with the roots / But it's all coming up to the surface / Maybe it's getting ready to bloom" is her trying to repress her anger, and then stopping trying as much after the Slaughter shoots her.

"And I don't wanna be a monster in the making / I don't wanna be more bitter than sweet / I don't know how to be just standing by blankly / Not getting angry" is her wondering when she lost every part of her that isn't just anger. "If you knew what I knew / You would be angry too" is her wondering why no one else seems to be feeling the same way.

The bridge starts with "Calm down, girl, why you so mad?" is other people telling her that this isn't healthy, and that she shouldn't be this mad, even though she has good reason to be pissed and it's her way of coping with all the horrible stuff happening.

No Longer You — Jorge Rivera-Herrans

Jon slowly becomes less himself, less human, as he learns more and gets closer to the Eye. "I see you on the brink of death / I see you draw your final death / I see a man who gets to make it home alive / But it's no longer you" is Oliver, the guy who predicts death in his dreams, telling Jon he needs to choose to either die or give up his humanity. "I see the sacrifice of man / ... / And a brother's final stand" can be about Tim sacrificing himself to avenge his brother.

Cigarette Ahegao — Penelope Scott

"A few dead more gone / The rest well on their way" represents how pretty much everyone working in the Archives is either dead or doomed. "Everyone that I love is stuck / Because this that the other and the state fucked up / We covered it in a class that I'm about to fail" can be about how they're all stuck in the Archives for complicated supernatural reasons, but everything is just so hopeless that they don't bother trying to fully understand it all.

The lines about cigarettes/smoking ("Cigarette Ahegao," "Get thin on smoke and coffee," "Get fucked on smoke and wine," "I don't smoke, I just like how it smells") are again, Jon smoking again after he quit.

"Screwing everything up and doing everything wrong / In my defense I wasn't supposed to be around this long" reminds me of Agnes Montague losing her faith. She was never supposed to live as long as she did, but because the ritual was so delayed, she had time to doubt the Lightless Flame.

"Well I feel better now" is Tim's dry humor in season three, as he gets more and more depressed/angry. "Someday I'll have my own life / I'll leave this all behind" is him hoping to leave the Institute behind and get back to his own life.

You Can't Hide — CK9C

The whole song centers around being hunted and needing to run away, so it matches the Hunt. "We are secretly watching you too" also alludes to the Eye. "They're laughing while finding / I'm hiding. I'm trying / I feel like she's lying / I feel like I'm dying /... / Afraid of what might be" is Jon hiding from Not!Sasha in the tunnels. All the creepy robot stuff in the song has themes that match the Stranger. "We can make accidents happen" can be Gertrude threatening Arthur Nolan, or Jude Perry getting revenge on the guy Agnes was dating, or any number of other things.

Open the Door — LongestSoloEver

Not!Sasha. Need I elaborate?

HORROR MOVIES — Neoni

The first verse, "Don't go down to the basement / We all know what's coming next / Murder with a little side of mayhem / Well here I go again" is the Archive employees continually putting themselves in situations where Horror™ happens.

"I need a vacation?" Yeah, they all really do. "This movie's looking too much like my life?" Yeah, their lives are pretty much scary movies. Probably because they're characters in a horror podcast, but that's just a guess.

Spellbound — Siouxie and the Banshees

This song reminds me a lot of the Stranger and a little of the Web. "When you think / Your toys have gone berserk / It's an illusion / You cannot shirk" works well because of dolls often being used in uncanny valley tropes. "Following the footsteps / Of a rag doll dance / We are entranced / Spellbound" is a good verse for the Stranger not only because of the creepy doll symbolism but also because of the Unknowing being a dance.

"You hear laughter / Cracking through the walls / It sends you spinning / You have no choice" has that same dancing imagery, and Nikola Orsinov does spend a lot of time laughing at stuff. However, the line, "you have no choice" really reminds me of the Web. There's a lot of subtle stuff hinting toward it throughout the song, with all the lines about being entranced/spellbound and having no choice. Also, the lines about toys can allude to one of the Web's other names, Mother-of-Puppets.

The verse, "And don't forget / When your elders forget / To say their prayers / Take 'em by the legs / And throw 'em down the stairs" reminds me of Neil Lagorio, the practical effects guy.

Children's Work — Dessa

I'm pretty sure Jon grew up with his grandma, not his mom, but ignoring that, the lines "I grew up with a book in my bed / I got these dark circles before I turned ten / Heard my mother with her friends worry it was something she did / To get such a serious kid" match up pretty well with Jon's childhood.

The start of the chorus, "I've learned how to paint my face / How to earn my keep, how to clean my kill / Some nights, I still can't sleep / The past rolls back, I can see us still" reminds me of Daisy and the Hunt (that sounds like a band name, maybe I'm thinking of Dazey and the Scouts).

"You were so tender, we thought something was wrong with you" fits with how everyone judges Martin for trying to be kind/optimistic/forgiving despite all the horrible stuff. "You've learned how to hold your own / How to stack your stones, but the history's thick" is like Jon feeling like he needs to protect Martin from stuff even though he knows Martin can handle himself (usually). Side note, I think the reason Jon does that is partially guilt because he was such a jerk to Martin earlier on.

"...tried to tell the grown-ups / About the storm clouds, the weather in my head" is about not having words to describe your emotions, but if we take it more literally then we get Michael Crew.

Loving Parasite — That Handsome Devil

"Blood-sucking hustlers" is like the vampires that Trevor Herbert hunts. "Feeding off each other" is like what Jon does when he takes people's statements. "Time's a winding centipede / Burrows in our memories" is like Jane Prentiss if she had centipedes instead of worms. "The police are coming" is Section 31.

"I need a doctor or a priest or something" reminds me of how many different people tried to figure out what the heck was happening at 105 Hilltop Road. They got a nurse involved, who called an exorcist.

"The universe is expanding / But I don't feel a damn thing / There's nothing you can do about it / Keep on dancing" is the Unknowing.

Matches to Paper Dolls — Dessa

Whatever doomed yaoi is happening between Jon and Martin.

Other than that, "Just one more chapter / Our book won't close" can also be about Leitners; "And I'd be leaving for good, I'd be looking for better / But I got this broken habit I keep gluing back together" can be the Archive employees being unable to leave; and "tried dynamite" is how Tim died.

[3amdrabbles]

Midnighter and Apollo: A (slightly in depth) comic breakdown by someone who originally misunderstood the themes.

While I have always adored this comic, there was something that always bothered me a bit. But having re-read the series now that I am older and better understand media / media literacy, I can firmly say I was wrong about being bothered, and this comic deserves more praise and recognition.

Spoilers for a decade old comic

First things first, the part that made me uncomfortable when I was younger: The fact that Apollo ended up in Hell in the first place.

One of the few openly gay characters in DC gets killed and sent to Hell, pretty unceremoniously and suddenly. And while it worked from a narrative standpoint, having Midnighter go to Hell for his love, it did strike me as uncomfortable as a young queer kid struggling with my self-worth because of being queer.

And it’s implied, if not outright said at times, that it weren’t Apollo’s ‘normal’ sins that brought him to Hell. Pride, Murder, that kinda stuff. Yes, this is mostly said by Apollo himself, but the comic frames him as being in the right about this, and so we as an audience are pushed to believe this.

So then, why did he end up in Hell?

And that is where I originally went wrong. I shouldn’t have felt uncomfortable about the fact DC sent one of their only queer characters to Hell. Because that was the whole point of it. It wasn’t condemning and it wasn't some thoughtless, empty decision that just happened to have some negative connotations attached to it.

This comic is a beautiful, metaphorical representation of the queer experience

This story is one of love and accepting those around you (and yourself) as who they are, while helping them be the best version of themselves.

Apollo talks about how he has already gone through his own kind of Hell before, many times. From how he got his powers to his unaccepting father. Yet he persisted. He stayed true to himself, he didn’t break and he didn’t give in to what people wanted of him. Apollo being in Hell is nothing new, this time it's just more literal.

And we see that he persists. We see him fight and overcome because he knows that he deserves better than the sentences and punishments pushed onto him by other people. He knows that he doesn’t deserve this Hell of someone else's making.

And while he can survive, or even escape this Hell, on his own, it becomes easier with someone there at his side. Someone willing to risk anything, because Apollo is his everything.

In the beginning of the story, Midnighter refuses to accept Apollo is gone. He knows there must be something he can do, something to try or someone to beat up to get his love back. While Apollo is in a literal Hell, Midnighter goes through a personal one. The worst kind of Hell for someone like Midnighter; he feels helpless. He wants to protect the man he loves, but he simply can't. He doesn't know what to do.

And where Apollo's side of the story deals with being sure of who you are and persisting through the bad times, Midnighter's side is about the consequences that come with being who you are.

An enemy from Minighter’s past wanted to hurt him, and did so by way of targeting Apollo. The hate and anger pointed at Midnighter is what killed Apollo.

Apollo became a victim for loving Midnigher.

At the end of the comic, Midnighter explains to Apollo that he is, and always will be, a killer. That he is sure of himself and he hopes Apollo can accept. This scene, while likely not intended as such, reads so much as a way of coming out.

I know I probably read too much into it, and that Steve Orlando likely just wanted to write a fun and heartfelt story reminiscent of Greek mythology between these two lovers.

But to me, this story really represents the queer experience. The Hell forced upon you by others, watching those you surround yourself with get hurt because of who you or they are, but also the steadfastness of knowing who you are, the love and support that comes with being yourself, and knowing there's always the light to pull you out of the dark.

While I firmly believe Midnighter and Apollo were at their best in the old Wildstorm/Authority comics, this run has really become a favorite of mine that I highly recommend to anyone even remotely interested in comics or these characters.

And I hope I managed to portray my thoughts semi-cohesively.