#i'm usually kind of ambivalent

[akiacia]

silly next gen thoughts 👶 (inspired by a comment! no one asked for a whole post, but i took the excuse to brainworm 🤣)

[ceramicbeetle]

Desperately trying to make sense of Alex's motivations in Season Two and you know, I do eventually have to wonder if maybe Alex wasn't actually lying in the majority of those tapes.

Like, we tend to assume that Alex's motivations have been a consistent throughline since the college years, but do we actually know that that's the case? Do we know for sure that Alex was acting in deliberate, calculated ways in 2006; or could it be that he's telling the Truth on those olds tapes when he says he's blacking out and can't remember what's happening to anyone? After all, if we're assuming that Season 2 Alex's motivations are the exact same as his motives in Season 3, then it doesn't make any sense at all that he spend months working with Jay to try to find Amy; Season 3 Alex would have attempted to kill Jay like, on sight just to get things over with as quickly as possible and contain the spread of contamination as best as he could.

But, maybe, if Alex really had been separated from Amy after the events of the 04-04-10 tape, and if he really doesn't know where she is, then maybe that could make things start to make more sense. Maybe he really had been watching Jay's channel, and seeing Jay start going through the same things he went through in college without things devolving into violence and disappearances, and wondered if things maybe could play out differently this time. Maybe he really did send that tape to Jay to ask him for help, maybe he really was just trying to find Amy.

But then, instead of actually being helpful, Jay makes it extremely clear that he's a lot more interested in stalking Alex than he is in finding Amy. Alex asked for help, and instead there's a bunch of masked dudes on Jay's heels that keep attacking him, Jay is breaking into his house, stealing his things, leading the Operator right to him all over again, keeps trying to get other people (namely: Jessica -- if Alex is being honest when he says that his call reassuring her that Amy had been found was an effort to make Sure she stayed away from everything that was happening) involved; and instead of anything getting better, instead of anyone finding Amy, things are just getting worse all over again.

It's not until after the incident at the tunnel that things seem to start rapidly devolving. Rather than a calculated attempt to finally follow through with his need to curb the spread of contamination, this is very clearly an outburst of rage and terror. Alex's "I told you not to follow me" line in conjunction with Jay speculating that Alex didn't know who that guy was, to me, pretty firmly seems to speak to Alex having mistaken that stranger for Jay. From his point of view, Alex knows that Jay and totheark know where he live, have broken in before, he suspects that Jay stole a key to make it easier to get into his house, and he's been followed on the daily for months -- Alex is sitting at the tunnel because he doesn't know where else he can go without being constantly surveilled, hunted, and assaulted. And instead of getting a moment by himself to breathe, Jay followed him out there all over again (it feels like Alex looks directly at the camera in Jay's footage of him from this day; he knew for a fact that Jay was there), and then to make matters worse now 'Jay' won't even keep his distance anymore.

So Alex lashes out. And it's not until afterwards that he looks down and finally recognizes that this wasn't Jay -- it was someone completely innocent. Things have finally reached the low point he was at in college all over again; maybe even worse this time. If Alex doesn't remember attacking anyone in college, but he was at least partially conscious of it this time, then things have reached an entirely new rock bottom, they've reached an absolute point of no return.

He has no idea what happened to Amy, and he's spent months trying to find her with no hint of where she could be; he doesn't know where Jay actually is or what additional trouble he could be causing at this point; he does know that now innocent people are getting caught in the crossfire (in regards to the stranger in the tunnel, and also Jessica now that Jay has her phone number, and the untold number of people Jay got involved when he started posting videos to the Marble Hornets channel); things are spiraling out of control and there's no one left to ask for help. The situation isn't getting better, it's getting worse; things aren't getting easier to handle, they're just getting more out of hand; the negative impact is spreading and who knows how much further it can still go?

So, Alex decides to go scorched earth. He disfigures the body with the rock either to hide evidence or to make sure the guy would actually stay dead and not just get back up to start his own cycle of contamination in a few years. He tries to give Jay one last chance to back off, and Jay instead admits he's been talking to Jessica, acts obstinate and lies about not having Alex's spare key, and then breaks into Alex's house a second time (minimum). If Alex doesn't stop him now, who will? Alex met with Jay planning to kill the others, and then himself, so he could put a stop to this once and for all and keep things from getting any worse than they already were.

Maybe it makes a lot more sense if, rather than being a strangely incomprehensible detour on what should have been a straight path, the events of Season Two were the breaking point that put Alex on that path to begin with.

[midnightshindig]

Single Mama! Reader with Cecil or Donald headcanons, pretty please. I’ll give you my prized Pokémon book for it.

Donald and Cecil x SingleMom!Reader

oh my god i read this as sigma while scrolling through requests and had an aneurysm I'm so fucking brain rotted

anyways- Cecil and Donal are separate hcs, sorry if these are sort of short!

hcs under the cut!

Cecil

Cecil is ambivalent and distant

he's not against you having a kid, but he doesn't know what to do with it

"Want a beer?" "HES FOUR" type shit

For the most part he treats your kid as cordially as possible.

If they're an elementary schooler, he might try and bribe them into liking him with toys

If they're more like a middle or high schooler, however, he treats them with respect

Cecil over her shaking some fourteen year olds hand like "I promise my intentions with your mother are good, I'm a good man and she's a great woman."

like oh my god just stooooop

but they lowkey kind of love it? Like, he's so aloof and weird, your kid(s) adore him

It's a very parallel-play type of thing

Cecil and you will be watching a movie and your kid will come downstairs and sit on the other side of the couch, casually reading a book or playing their 3ds or something

If your kid is interested in government or safety, Cecil will happily take them under his wing

You come back from the bathroom to find Cecil explaining calculus to your high schooler

or explaining the concept of government to your eight year old, who is happily absorbing it all like a sponge

He keeps it age appropriate

Cecil has a LOT of resources

So when he wants to take you out, you've got your pick of the best babysitters in the world

It's usually Donald ngl

sometimes, though, a teenage superhero will volunteer to babysit for some extra cash

So Eve-- or, more accurately-- Rex and Rae-- come over to babysit.

(ignore season three for these purposes- stfu it's cute)

And Cecil takes you out on the town

being a single mom means you have a hard time getting to be just Y/n, not Y/n the mom

Cecil makes sure you know how special you are

Corny ass man probably takes you swing dancing or something

Red Lobster type mf

I'm kidding he takes you to a very nice dinner

and buys an extra dessert for your kid <3

Donald

BIG nerd

Your kid like pokemon? Oh he's studying up rn to impress them

Because of this Donald's at work reading Warrior Cats and Cecil is like "Donald what the fuck is that?"

"Oh- My girlfriend's kid is really into this serious, I want to make a good impression."

"A grown man having warrior cats knowledge is terrifying, Donald."

psshhh whatever Donald doesn't care.

Tries to win over your kid by showing off his robotic features (once he gets used to it himself)

WILL take your kid to the park with you as a date

I hc Donald probably doesn't have too much in the way of his own family, so he's charmed by yours

Donald likes to take your kid(s) with you on dates

Group family dates if you will

So you all go to the movies, or maybe to dinner every now and again, stuff like that

But he makes time for just you don't you worry.

Type of dude to throw your kids in the air.

he's just casually available and emotionally supportive

ALSO teaches your children stuff, but more like history or lower level math

I have the very specific image in my head of your 3rd/4th grader coming home crying because her school is doing a daddy daughter dance and like.... she doesn't have a dad? What is she going to do?

You offer her to bring her uncle, or maybe she could bring you?

Donald comes back from the store with groceries for dinner and your daughter lights up

"I want Donald to take me!"

"Hm?" he puts the bags down to high five your daughter hello "Take you to what, kid?"

You sighed, leaning awkwardly against the kitchen counter "She's having a daddy daughter dance at school- Honey, why don't you take your uncle?"

Donalds eyes widen and he has to hold back a wobbly smile "No it's okay! I'll take her." Oh fuck it, dude is smiling

Ugh i'm a wreck he's so sweet

He's not trying to replace their dad or anything

like literally "not the step dad he's the dad who stepped up"

[chiisana-sukima]

hi so what qualities do you think dean admires about sam and vice versa would like to know your thoughts

Love your meta btw as a new spn fan

Hi Nonny, tysm for the ask!

I haven't thought a ton about this question prior to now, so I'm interested in other people's opinions too if they want to add them on reblog. But it seems to me that the 'what does Dean admire about Sam' half of the question is pretty easily answered, because Dean isn't shy with his praise of Sam in canon.

He's also not shy with his criticism, of course, and I think this is because some of the things he admires most about Sam are the same things that are dangerous to him personally. My favorite recap is in the finale:

And there's this from 15.11:

Dean says similar things in other episodes, going way back to 1.11, which the finale speech is practically a word for word recap of:

I think Dean legitimately believes all this; that Sam is better than him in practically every way-- smarter, more compassionate, more optimistic, possessed of a better moral compass (usually), more skilled in a variety of ways, etc. And especially that Sam is healthier than him; more of a complete, autonomous human being who would be fully able to live a "normal" life if circumstances were right, whereas he, Dean, would not be. By "you're stronger than me" (which he also tells Sam before he goes to Hell in s3) he means "capable of independence".

I have decidedly ambivalent feelings about the "Dean is Sam's Parent" reading of spn, but I do think this is a very parental type of admiration; both because of the 'I'm proud' piece and because 'I raised you to be able to outlive me' is maybe a parent's primary responsibility second only to unconditional love. And I think it's realistic and sympathetic that Dean admires these traits in Sam while simultaneously fighting tooth and nail to undermine Sam ever actually becoming fully independent as long as Dean's alive (and until the finale, even afterwards). "You're better than me; don't leave me" is honestly extremely relatable.

R.e. the 'what does Sam admire in Dean' part of the question, I think that's more complicated to explain, and I'm especially interested in what other fans think about this part. I think obviously if someone asked Sam what he admires in Dean, he'd be able to run off a list of traits. And he does sometimes mention traits he finds admirable in Dean, like in 8.14 where he says "You're not a grunt, Dean. You're a genius" and says Dean is a better hunter than either himself or their father.

But for the core of what I think Sam feels about Dean that's in the same, idk, synonym group ig, as 'admiration', I don't think 'admires' really covers it very well. It's almost more like worships. He thinks, quite simply, that Dean is good. And since he thinks that he, Sam, is fundamentally not good, he sees Dean as the final arbiter of, well, everything. Sam thinks Sam could never go on a quest like Galahad, but although it's never specifically mentioned, I think its pretty clear he believes Dean could.

I think Sam feels about Dean the way I think deeply religious people--not the kind that mouth platitudes but the kind that have really struggled with and thought long and hard about their faith--feel about God. He knows Dean makes mistakes, he knows Dean is deeply fucked up in many ways, he yells at and argues with Dean and goes behind Dean's back and lies to him and etc, all because he does truly understand that Dean's decisions are, on a practical level, sometimes honestly pretty messed up. But he also has an unshakable faith that where he, Sam, might make bad choices because he's bad, Dean will struggle but ultimately always eventually choose correctly, even if one of the steps along the way is chopping Sam's head off with Death's scythe. Because Dean is good. Sam fans (myself included) will look back on the panic room and think "wow Dean sure was living up to the family-is-hell premise on that one", but Sam will look back on it and think "he saved me".

[kirain]

Emmrich giving Rook her first kiss? 😶

I've never written so much romance in my life! I have been absolutely blown away by the requests and everyone's kind words, especially since this is such uncharted territory for me. I tried to keep this in line with the canonical first kiss in game.

I hope it delivers!

The moon hung heavy in the sky, its silver beams spilling through the garden where Vae and Emmrich stood. The evening air carried the scent of night-blooming flowers, a heady perfume that wrapped around them like a song. The peace, the romance—the temptation.

A sense of unease pricked at the back of Vae's mind. Her hands wrung together, a nervous habit Emmrich had rarely seen but fully understood. Her blue eyes, lidded and uncertain, briefly met his before darting away, as if ashamed. He could feel the hesitation in the space between them—the weight of something unspoken, something fragile.

"Vae?" he hummed, his voice kind, coaxing.

She swallowed before trying to speak, her words crumbling in defiance.

They had been dancing around their feelings for weeks, maybe months. Every glance, every lingering touch, every amorous word had built up to this moment of perfection. But now, her face lit by the stars, Emmrich could see it—ambivalence. The way her breath hitched in her throat, the way she swayed ever so slightly towards him, but didn't dare take that final step.

"You've never been kissed before."

It wasn't a question. She had told him she'd never been intimate, but he assumed that, at least—perhaps when she was younger—there might have been a boy who wooed her. Some friend or classmate who, in a moment of awkward, hormonal bliss, took something she was equally willing to give. A simple kiss and nothing more.

"No," she admitted, her blush deepening. "Not by anyone."

Emmrich's gaze softened, his usual sharp confidence tempered by something indispensable. He reached out, slowly, delicately, giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn't. Instead, she let him trace his fingers along the curve of her jaw, his touch light and reverent.

"You don't have to," he said, and she could tell he meant it. "We never have to, if you don't think you can bear it."

"I..." She paused, a tremor in her voice. "I do want to. I just... don't know how."

A persuasive smile tugged at the older man's lips, his dominant hand finding her waist. "Then let me show you."

Vae's breath caught as he stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating against hers. His fingers swept over her cheek, until his whole hand settled there, the touch so gentle it sent a shiver down her spine. She liked it, and that was all the incentive he needed, his thumb ghosting over her lower lip.

"Emmrich," she gasped, the sensation new and exciting.

"Just breathe," he purred. "I see you, my darling."

His eyes, fervent but steady, held hers with a quiet patience. There was no demand in them, no expectation—only the promise of something she could choose, if she wanted.

She did want.

She let herself melt into his touch, basking in the way he looked at her—like she was his whole world, precious beyond comprehension. Her legs shuddered.

"What if I'm bad at it?"

Smoothly, as if rehearsed, Emmrich asked, "Have you forgotten I'm a professor?" He grinned, his tone laced with a reassurance that told her she could never disappoint him. "I'll teach you."

"Emmrich..."

"Vae."

He whispered her name like a secret, and she closed her eyes at the sound. Slowly—agonisingly slow—he dipped his head, the kiss nigh. Inevitable. Yet he paused, hovering so close, offering her one last chance to pull away. Instead, she lifted her chin with an earned trust, her silent invitation sending a needy ache through his chest.

Finally, his lips pressed against hers with an exquisite tenderness, careful and unhurried. He didn't demand, didn't take—he simply gave. A brush, a breath, a gentle push that sent heat spiraling through her body. Her hands, unsure where to go, moved to the collar of his shirt, her fingers curling into the fabric, and he moaned, approving yet restrained, holding back for her sake.

Then, he stepped back, only to capture her expression—to make sure she was comfortable. To his delight, her eyes held nothing but desire.

"What a day of unexpected splendor."

To show her how this could be.

Of pure ecstasy.

He dove back in, bringing his lips to her neck before roaming back to her mouth. He poured all his love and devotion into every ministration, hoping to reach the depths of her soul. Then, he lingered, giving her a moment to adjust, to take it all in, before he deepened the kiss just enough to fuel her hunger.

He wanted more—so much more, but he let her set the pace, let her explore the taste of his lips; guiding her, showing her. As she relaxed against the altar behind her, his hand slid back, fingers threading through her hair, cradling her as though she might collapse.

"Mmph..." Vae shivered, the kiss unraveling something inside her she hadn't known was wound so tightly.

A small sound escaped her, and Emmrich felt it—a spark of something untamed, just beneath the surface. He broke away again to meet her gaze, his fingers exploring the elegant contours of her face before gliding down to her shoulders, ready to draw her back in if she willed it.

"How was that, my darling?" he teased, his voice soft as velvet. "A worthy first time?"

Vae's heart raced, her chest heaving as she caught her breath, her cheeks blazing. She could still feel him, her lips tingling with the impression of his own. For a moment, she feared she'd float away, anchored only by his sensual grip. Then, she stared at him, enraptured by the memory, a shy smile his reward.

"...Again?" was all she could manage.

Emmrich chuckled. "As often as you like."

This time, it was her who leaned in first.

[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Dreams

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Chapter Thirty ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: The true meaning of your dreams are up for debate, putting your relationship with James, and your sanity, in peril.

Word Count: 8.3k

Notes: When I initially wrote this chapter, it ended up being over 10k words, which even for me feels excessive for one chapter lol. So, I'm splitting it up so it's a more reasonable length. This all means that like usual, I've underestimated how long this fic will be. For those that want this to go on for longer, yay! And for those who just want me to wrap it up already, I'm so sorry.

Dorcas and Marlene came to get you after first period was over, the former's eyes pleading even before she spoke. 

“He’s like Romeo down there,” Dorcas groaned. “Please come down. I’m begging you.”

Marlene smiled at Dorcas’ torment, putting her books back on her desk. “We thought we’d all go to the RoR. Lily and Remus’ll meet us there after class.”

You figured they’d want to meet up properly sooner rather than later, only hoping they’d already gone over enough of yours and James’s timeline to satisfy their curiosity for the time being. 

You found James, Peter, and Sirius at the base of the stairs, James leaning against the wall as he tried to peer around the corner, awaiting your arrival. He beamed when he saw you, though he didn’t touch you when you made it down the final step, his left hand digging into the joint where the strap met his bag, his knuckles nearly white. You considered that this might almost be worse for him, having his best friends know and not being able to push it farther. Before, he was fairly well contained, having little leeway in terms of public affection. Now with six people knowing about you two, it may be more like a tease than a gift. You could only imagine the ambivalence of his mind, pulled between his intense desire to keep you safe and his equally passionate impulse to tell everyone he meets how in love he is. 

“You’re the worst actor in the world,” Marlene said upon seeing him.

James shot her a half-hearted scowl, calming himself when he turned back to you. “C’mon,” he said, smiling in a far more subtle way than before, an acknowledgment of the fragility of your arrangement. “They tell you where we’re going?”

You laughed, the sound somehow both feeble and light. “Yeah. Where else would we be going?”

“Smartarse,” he mumbled, some of that blinding brightness that he so often possessed peeking through his former pessimism, enough to satisfy your hope that he may forget the Prophet and bask in the knowledge that Mulciber was buried somewhere in the Ministry, awaiting trial. 

You barely sat down in one of the chairs when Dorcas pounced, leaving Peter’s face beet red despite the question having nothing to do with him. 

“So, when’s the wedding?”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to let yourself shrink away like a wilting flower. You wouldn’t dare a single glance at James, who was sitting right beside you on the settee. “A little early to be asking that, don’t you think?”

She laughed, looking over at Sirius. “Black, did James ever say anything about his great-grandmother's ri—”

“I’ll put you on laps for a week!” James said rather abruptly, shooting to sit straight up in his seat. You weren’t sure who he was addressing, though it seemed to have the desired effect on both. Sirius’s countenance was largely unbothered, his brows raising with a lazy shrug of compliance. Dorcas made a face of comical surprise at his outburst, her smirk gone. 

You fidgeted, waiting for the awkwardness to settle. When it did, you made a poorly planned joke, though it was all you could think to do to save some semblance of comfort for yourself, and for Peter. “You know, most people consider those kinds of questions rude.”

“Most people find their friend hiding the fact they have a boyfriend rude,” Dorcas began, her look of mischief returning, “but I’ll forgive you. I’d hide the fact I was dating Potter, too.”

James scoffed, nodding towards her. “I’m serious about the laps.”

“Have you ever heard the word ‘mutiny’?”

“This is so stupid,” Marlene sighed, looking at Dorcas in disappointment. “I don’t know why she’s so curious, I told her everything—”

“Everything?” you all but shrieked, straightening the same way James had. 

Marlene’s mouth opened, mild fear crossing her features. “Oh, no,” she stuttered, “not everything—”

Sirius barked, half doubled in his chair. His hair fell into his face, rosy with laughter, his shoulders shaking as he stared at the scene before him. James glared at him, though unlike usual, it appeared entirely genuine. 

“Padfoot,” Peter uttered, shoving Sirius’s side as his eyes darted nervously between him and James. 

“Sorry,” Sirius said, his howls fading. He threw his arm over Peter’s shoulder, gazing at you and James the way an artist looks at a completed sculpture, admiring the craftsmanship of his work. “Wormtail, prepare yourself for the last month and a half of my life.”

“Padfoot, you blue-eyed prat,” James said, leaning forward and pointing at Sirius with steely, narrowed eyes, “no one needs any of your shite right now.”

Sirius was unaffected, snorting at James’s fuming expression. “A little fucking testy, I see.”

James’s cheeks went pink, his mouth twisting. “Stop being a dick,” he snapped. “You’re embarrassing yourself.” Sirius let out a wild laugh, seeming to enjoy James’s anger far more than James was enjoying slandering his friend. “You’ve got a head like a fucking kettle,” James huffed, sitting back. 

“What does that even mean?” 

“It’s thick and hollow. Only proves my point you had to ask.”

Peter recoiled as if James was talking to him, Dorcas trying to stifle a giggle at the spat unfolding like an amateur production of a Greek comedy. Marlene was frozen in place, somewhere between amused and horrified.  

You checked your wristwatch, grumbling, “When’s second period let out?”

Peter decided to skive off History of Magic, though it was largely inconsequential whether one attended or not, (other than the effect it would have on your N.E.W.T. grade), given that it was a miracle Professor Binns ever noticed any of his students at all. When Lily and Remus came to the RoR, Lily questioned him on the subject, though she could hardly disapprove of his answer. Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

By this time, James and Sirius had stopped hurling insults at one another and made up. Neither said a thing about their spat, and it was Dorcas who brought it up to your new additions, cackling as she threw herself over the armchair to look at Remus. 

“Potter called Black a kettle. It was brilliant.”

Remus hummed, a nearly unnoticeable smirk making its way onto his lips as he glanced between the two. “A pot calling the kettle black,” he said, as if it were merely an impartial observation. 

Even more violently than before, Sirius flew forward, his hands to his knees as he convulsed in a fit of roaring laughter, his glee in stark contrast to the glower now plastered onto James’s face. Peter was letting out short, barely concealed snorts, the others laughing along with less enthusiasm than Sirius, though it was admittedly a difficult force to match. You knocked James with your shoulder, offering him a smile of both amusement and sympathy, unable to stop yourself from appreciating the extraordinary nature of the phrasing. Remus, as always, was a master. 

James’s sour look lessened upon seeing your face, his eyes drifting to the ceiling in passive annoyance as the giggles began to cease. “Very clever,” he said to Remus, his voice flat, “but we have shit to talk about.”

The room fell silent, all eyes looking to you and him. You hardly knew what to bring up first, though Sirius beat you to it.

“Are you lovebirds keeping this thing a secret, or can we start complaining to people outside this room?” 

“I don’t know,” you said, glancing at James. “We only talked about it a bit last night.”

“James filled us in,” Lily said. “I think it might be a good idea, just to be safe.”

Dorcas shrugged. “I’m not sure it’ll matter that much. Mulciber isn’t here anymore, and Wilkes and Zephyr are on the run. They seemed to be the main players.”

“There's others,” James said. “There's no real way of knowing, but there has to be more people in our year who are involved—and we know there are sixth years, too, because of Regulus.”

Sirius ran his tongue over his teeth, returning to the same look he had this morning. “He’s close with Evan Rosier,” he said, still a bit far off, “and Avery, too. Snivellus is in with them all, but I guess he’s a toss up these days.”

You could see Lily sigh, clearly displeased at the use of the nickname. 

“Sirius,” you said, raising your brows. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, throwing an arm over the back of his chair. 

“Why don’t we just vote on it?” you suggested. You could tell if James wasn’t very supportive of this idea, though he didn’t argue. “All right, all in favor of keeping me and James a secret, raise your hand.”

James put up his at once, Peter not long after. Lily seemed to think it over, raising her hand after a few seconds, followed by Remus. You hesitated, eventually raising your own, thus closing the vote. 

“That settles it, then,” you said. You looked at James, knowing this must be killing him, even if he did vote 'yes'. “I’m sorry. I know you’re sick of hiding it.”

He smiled, a clear ploy to reassure you. “That doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re safe.”

You nodded, trying to remember that things would feel infinitely better now that all your friends knew, saving you from hours of sneaking around and dozens of lies and half-truths to keep track of. 

You took a breath, licking your lips in preparation for a long, arduous talk. “So, I guess we should talk about what happened. Did James tell you everything already?” There were a few nods, and you continued, “Did he tell you about the fish?”

All you received now were puzzled looks, Marlene glancing at Lily as if she held some answers, though there were none to be found. “Do you mean the fish?” 

“Yeah, the fish,” you said, going on to tell them the whole story over again, including the crow, as well. After your explanation of what you believed it all meant, you were met with a moment of charged silence, slightly uncomfortable like a bath gone cold. 

“It’s all come true, then,” Lily said. “Of course the red and purple fish has, but it seems like the eight orange ones—joy—must be James.”

“That’s what I think, as well. I put the pink ones, heartache, as me worrying over telling you,” you said, ignoring your burning ears.

“Your dream,” Lily began again, pensive as she stared at the floor, “it’s so odd.”

You furrowed your brows. “What d’you mean?”

“It’s such an excellent parallel, when you think about it. You run to the lake, a crow flies just above you and picks up the fish. During the duel, a crow flew above you right before you jumped into the lake.”

Not this again. Your friends' unyielding confidence in your Divination abilities was flattering, though you wished they’d stop putting so much weight into the nonsense your subconscious came up with when you were asleep. 

“It never picked up the fish, though, and the fish was very much alive the last time I saw it,” you argued. 

“Wait— remind me again what happens in your dream,” Sirius said, his hand rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

You went into an account, explaining the differences between the two. “So, the second time I had it, it felt even more like the figure knew me, that they could see me very clearly. The crow also dropped the fish at my feet, which was new, and even though its eyes were white, it was still trying to breathe. I think I know what the figure means, but the fish…I’m not so sure.”

“What about the figure?” Lily asked. 

You had thought about it briefly the night before and more during the hour you spent alone in your room this morning. You weren’t certain that your hunch was correct, though you couldn’t think of another explanation given the facts currently at hand. Perhaps a few weeks from now some event would prove your theory incorrect, though in the meantime, you had to work with what you got. 

“I think it’s James,” your voice was softer than intended, laced with a tinge of embarrassment. You knew that if it were James instead of yourself, he’d feel no sense of humiliation for having strange dreams where you acted as a mysterious subject. But it's James, you reasoned, he hardly gets embarrassed over anything.

You felt James’s eyes on the side of your face, and when you turned to look at him you couldn’t quite make out what he was thinking. 

“I think that makes sense,” Remus said after a beat of contemplative silence. 

“I do, too,” said Marlene.

Lily nodded along, biting her lip. “You were never able to get to the figure in your dream, right?”

You shook your head. “No, I wasn’t.”

“But you were able to get to James yesterday,” she continued, still thoughtful. 

“The dream isn’t a prophecy,” you said, glancing over at James once more. A sense of calm washed over you at the sight of his face, a face that felt more familiar than all others and in which you could find no faults. You couldn’t recall when exactly you came to see him this way, though you now couldn’t picture someone more lovely. “It’s just my subconscious, a collection of my worries about the omens and my feelings for James. The first time I had the dream the figure felt familiar. I wanted to run to them for help, but the second time, the feeling was stronger. Way stronger. The urge to run to them was almost overpowering, and more than ever I was sure that they—I don’t know—saw into my soul,” you faltered a bit, reminding yourself that your friends already knew, that you no longer had to hide the way you felt about him. Still, it felt too revealing, like sharing a piece of your innermost psyche. You supposed there was no way out of it now. “That’s not really the right word, soul, but I can’t think of another right now,” you went on. “The point is, the dream doesn’t have to make sense, or even have a meaning beyond what I already told you.”

“What about the crow, then, and seeing the fish?” Dorcas asked. “Sure, the James thing didn’t come true, but Lily’s right. The whole thing reeks.”

“Of what, tripe and onions?” Sirius snorted.

“Shut it,” Lily huffed, glaring at him for a half-second. “Obviously, I’m in agreement with Dorcas. It all just seems a little too perfect to be coincidence.”

You rubbed down your cheeks, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. “Sometimes coincidences seem perfect,” you said, lifting your face.

“And sometimes they’re not coincidences,” James said, his voice very flat, as if he had no real feelings on the subject despite his comment.

“Not you, too,” you groaned, pleading as you looked at him. What you found was a peculiar expression, only a hair away from melancholy. You dropped your look of frustration, staring at him with a pit in your stomach. “James?”

He wouldn’t meet your eyes, dazed where he sat beside you. 

“James?” you asked again, to no avail. 

“Prongs?” Remus said in the same horrified concern. James’s gaze flickered to his, his mouth parting. 

He finally turned to you, his brows pinched in an agonizing sorrow. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, weak and broken. “I shouldn’t have—I can’t believe I got you into this.”

Your throat tightened, not knowing what he could possibly be apologizing for. “What’re you talking about? What did you get me into?”

“Everything!” He grabbed your shoulder, his hand coming to cup your cheek, brushing just under your eye with his thumb. “Your dream was an omen, it had to be, and I was in it,” his words strained against one another, brutal and dragging. He took his hand away, rubbing down your arm all the way to your wrists. 

You were silent, entirely still and unable to speak. Sirius stood up, though he did not take a single step. You could hardly pay attention to anything other than James, whose eyes were wretched, his entire being taken up in a storm of crestfallen sadness. 

“I was the figure you were trying to get to. I knew you in your dream. I saw you and I led you towards the lake, towards the crow and the fish and all the awful shit that—Merlin, don’t you understand?” He stared at you desperately, though you were still too confused, too slow to catch his meaning. 

Lily made a small noise almost like a gasp, moving forward in her chair. “James, no.”

James glanced at her, resolute. “Yes.”

“I don’t,” you stumbled, finally finding your voice. “I don’t get it. What do you mean you led me?”

“In your dream I wouldn’t come to you. I forced you to follow me. I broke my promise,” he choked, his head making short, quivering shakes, so unlike himself. “I said I would always come to you if you called me, and I didn’t. I don’t know why I didn’t, but I’m sorry…I’m sorry.”

“It was a dream,” you said, trying to console him. “You’re not in control of my dreams. You couldn’t possibly have known.” You reached for his face but he pushed away your hand, carefully bringing it back to your lap. 

“It was a prophecy, and it said that I would lead you towards danger, towards the bad luck and the loss of innocence, and it’s true. I’m the reason Mulciber wants you dead. Me.”

Sirius moved, standing above James, stunned and unsure. “Prongs, you didn’t lead her to—”

“Why does Mulciber want her dead?” James asked sharply, his mouth pressed into a harsh line as he stared up at him. 

Sirius met his eyes, though he didn’t answer. You watched their wordless challenge unfold, the standoff breaking when James looked back to you, his body rigid and his features still painted with distraught. 

“Your dream was a warning,” he spoke gravely, enough to break your heart a thousand times over, each crack worse than the last. “It was a warning not to follow me.”

You felt your chest twist. “That’s impossible.”

“She’s right, James,” Lily said. “Why would anything want to—”

“Because Mulciber saw the way I looked at her,” James said, no longer facing you. “He saw the way she looked at me, even before we realized it. He knew I was in love with her, and he was smart enough to realize that hurting her would be worse than killing me. If he had gotten her to—Godric, Lily, I’d rather have died,” he stopped, standing up to pace around the back of the settee. He stood a few meters away, his back turned as he continued to speak, no one daring to interrupt him, “Whatever it was, whatever the reason is that Divination works, it was trying to tell her not to follow me, because it knew that it would make Mulciber target her, and we saw how that fucking mess turned out.” 

He glanced back, just enough to see you. “I should’ve never kissed you, Y/N. I’m sorry.” He looked away again, ripping his gaze from yours in a way that almost felt cruel.

You suddenly felt very heavy, seeming to sink into the cushions of the settee deeper and deeper until soon you would fall straight through the floor, ending up in the middle of some classroom. You were thankful for Sirius, following James to place a hand on his back.

“That’s a load of shite and you know it.”

Lily said his name, though he did not turn. “We need to talk this through.”

“What’s there to talk about?” James mumbled. 

“This isn’t like you thinking that The Hobbit was a true story,” Remus began. “We can’t just let you go on believing it without discussing it first.”

James let out a bitter laugh, finally spinning around. “Great time to bring that up. I was eleven.”

“Couldn’t help it,” said Remus with no humor, his brows raised expectantly. 

You were holding the back of the settee like the gunwale of a boat, feeling as if it were impossible to leave its confines lest you drown in the depths below. “Jamie?”

“Don’t call me that,” he whispered, seeming so small, a shell of who he was a half an hour ago. 

“I’ll call you whatever I like,” you tried to make yourself sound stronger than you felt, though you knew it was a useless endeavor. He would always be able to see through it. “Please come and sit. I want you to.”

He swallowed, contemplating your request for a beat before complying, still reluctant as he took his seat beside you. You wanted to stroke his hair, to take him into your arms and kiss his cheeks, though you did not. It was worse than keeping your hand in a lick of flames or a basin of ice water, fighting your reflexes, forcing yourself to endure the pain for what seemed like no good reason. 

Sirius sat back in his chair, appearing as if he’d been holding his breath for an indeterminate period of time, long enough to make his chest shudder. 

“All right,” Lily began, even and calm. “You think that the universe, or magic, or whatever we’re calling the thing that gives seer’s their sight was showing Y/N that you would lead her towards danger, in this case it being the fulfillment of her negative omens, which then happened to be Mulciber?”

James nodded, scratching his forehead. “Yeah, that's it.”

Lily continued, “Okay, but what about the fact that you helped save her?”

“She wouldn’t have needed help if it weren’t for me,” he said, filled with an obvious self loathing.

“You don’t know that,” you said. “Mulciber thought we were together before we got together. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference if we started dating or not. He already had it in his head.”

“It must have been different,” James said, tilting his head as if it were all plainly obvious. “I had to have acted differently. After that night, after we—you were all I thought about. Guys—” He turned to the others. “I was different, right?”

A hesitance drifted over them, a vague unsurety. Marlene’s eyes darted to Dorcas, then to Sirius. 

“I know that I knew before yesterday,” she said, “but I don’t think you were much different.”

“Me either,” Peter agreed. 

“You always looked at her a certain way. It’s not surprising Mulciber thought you two were a couple,” said Remus, much to James’s chagrin.

“Then why were you all so surprised?” James asked, growing short with the lack of support. 

Sirius chewed on his thumb nail, his foot tapping on the floor. Peter was much the same, timid and unwilling to answer. 

“James,” Lily sighed with a small, sad smile. “You’ve been looking at her that way for so long that it became normal. There was no reason for us to think that a month and a half ago you suddenly acted on it.”

“I don’t see how it can be any other way,” he said, more biting as he was backed further into a corner, the sole defender of his theory. “If the dream wasn’t trying to tell her I was leading her towards danger, then what the fuck did it mean?”

You shook your head, wanting to scream. “Nothing. It was just a dream.”

“For argument's sake, lets just assume—”

“No,” you interrupted, scowling at him. “Not ‘for argument’s sake’, because for argument’s sake means I have to consider the fact that the universe doesn’t want us to be together, which is completely, utterly impossible. I’m not going to—I won’t even entertain it, okay? It’s an impossibility.”

He was silent for a moment, as was everyone else, something heavy settling all around you like dust after an explosion. You felt your heart pounding against your ribs, your face hot with outrage over the very idea that somehow, someway, you and James were not meant to be together. You were filled with the desire to hex the person who would come up with such an insulting, objectionable statement, though you soon realized it was James who had floated the idea, and you held back your wand. 

“Mulciber’s gone now,” said Sirius, breaking the silence with a careful, calculated tone. “Even if you did lead her towards him, the omens are over with. They’ve been fulfilled, or whatever.”

“I think we can all agree that Mulciber was going to attack me whether James and I got together or not,” you said with a great conviction, surveying the others. James was the only one who seemed to disagree. “Good. Now, James.” You met his eyes, stern and unwavering. “The only reason I’m not in St Mungo’s right now, or in the ground, is because of you and Sirius. You spent weeks teaching me how to duel, so many hours I can’t even begin to count. Do you seriously think I could’ve fought him off the way I was a few months ago?”

“That's not the point.”

“It is. And when I was in the lake, you and Sirius were the ones to help me fight off Mulciber. There's no way of knowing what would’ve happened if you two weren’t there, but it’s not as if you made things worse,” you paused, somehow finding it within yourself to smile. “Face it, James, you’re the reason I’m alive. Mulciber would’ve come after me either way, and without you I would’ve been using the Jelly-Legs Jinx on him. Just ask Sirius.”

The man in question grimaced. “It's true.”

You grabbed his hand, and he let you, watching you trace a vein over his knuckles. “If anything, just for argument’s sake, the dream meant that I should follow you, because if I follow you to the omens, I’ll be okay.”

He sighed deeply, barely audible, “I don’t know…”

“You could ask Quattlebaum,” Peter suggested.

You nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I think it might be a good idea,” Lily began. “He might have better insight into this sort of thing. Well, he definitely will.”

“Just my two sickles,” Dorcas said to James, “but I don’t think the universe was telling her not to follow you.”

You were still playing with his fingers, happy he was letting you. Beneath the strength you mustered to argue, you were terrified that he may never listen to reason, that he would be deaf to your pleas and chose to believe what you deemed impossible. Even worse, you were afraid he would walk away, not because he didn’t love you, but because he did. 

“Could we be alone?” you asked, looking up. 

“Of course,” Lily said, immediately standing. The others soon followed, lingering in a mass of awkward worry. “We’ll be in the common room.”

“Okay,” you said, though James was notably silent, still staring at his lap.

When they were gone you brushed your fingers through his hair, smoothing it down behind his ear. You bent so you could meet his eyes, overtaken by heartache, wondering how you were going to convince him he was wrong.

“I love you,” you said, knowing that it wouldn’t be enough, though he ought to hear it anyway. 

“I know,” he murmured. “I love you, too.”

“Isn’t that everything? What’s there for the universe to object to?”

“You can love something that's bad for you,” he said, still as low as before. 

You kissed his hairline, pressing your cheek against his forehead as you held him. “Don’t be silly.” You pulled away, feeling your eyes begin to well. In a moment of weakness you kissed his lips, though he hardly kissed you back, just enough for it to count. 

“Please,” he rasped, grabbing your arm. “Don't kiss me.”

“Are you saying that because you don’t want me to, or because you think I shouldn’t?” you asked, your brows raising.

“You know why.”

You put your hand on the nape of his neck, sliding it up into his hair and along his jaw. “If I asked you to kiss me, would you?”

He looked shattered, though it didn’t stop the selfish swell in your chest upon his answer. “I think I’d do just about anything you asked me.”

“I promise not to abuse that,” you said with a weak smile that dropped soon after, “but I will just this once. Believe me. Believe me when I tell you my dream didn’t mean what you think it did.”

He crumbled, bending forward until his head pressed against you, falling into a heap upon your lap. You felt him tremble, his shoulders shaking with silent, tearless cries. Without thinking you folded yourself over him, capturing him in a somber embrace. You whispered his name over and over, kissing his grey jacket, though for a long while he didn’t speak at all, his shivers dying into motionlessness. He held onto your shirt, curled as close to you as the settee would allow. 

“Please don’t do this to yourself, James,” you begged. “Don’t spoil everything once it’s just gotten perfect.”

“I’m sorry,” his voice crackled, the sound muffled by your clothes. He began to sit up, so you let him go, staring at his mused hair and straightening his crooked glasses. 

“Don’t say that. You don’t have to be sorry about anything.”

He swallowed, looking at you as if you were already lost to him, irretrievable. “Yes, I do. I’ve always—I knew I was the reason you had gotten hurt. It’s been killing me since yesterday. But now…I’m even worse than I thought I was, and I’m putting it all on you. If I were a better person, I’d leave.”

“Well, thank Godric you aren’t.” A tear slipped from his eye, running down his reddened cheek. You wiped it away, leaning closer to him. “I don’t care what the universe says, or what you think it’s saying. I love you and that’s all that matters. That’s it.” 

“What if something else happens?”

“It won’t,” you said, crawling closer to wrap your arm around his neck. “I promise that it won’t.” 

He seemed tortured when you craned your head down, your nose bumping his, though he still held your waist, slowly giving in. “How can you be sure?”

You smiled. “I have a hunch.” His breath shivered when you pressed your forehead against his, your eyes closing. “Is this your master plan to make me beg?”

That made him laugh, even if it was small and strained. “I wish it was.”

“Let’s ask Quattlebaum,” you said, moving back. “He’ll tell you you’re mad and paranoid, and then you’ll owe me big time for making me worry this much.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Then Sirius is right and he’s a crackpot.”

“How convenient.”

You smiled again, this time just a bit brighter. “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?”

Suddenly seeming incredibly tired, he closed his eyes, smirking despite himself. “Don’t open that can of flobberworms.”

“Why, because you think it’ll give you a big head?” you teased. 

“No,” he said, his gaze drifting away, “because then I’ll have to tell you how lovely you are, and that’ll take far too long.”

You wondered if you’d ever stop getting butterflies around him, or if you’d be old and grey, giddy over something he’s said. You supposed there was only one way to find out, if you could swing it, that is.

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When you went back to the common room before lunch, McGonagall collected you to speak to your parents in Hogsmeade. It was an affair in and of itself, for the attention you, and Hogwarts, received in the Daily Prophet meant they couldn’t be sure there weren’t wayward reporters lurking in the village, waiting for another break in the story. Without much of an explanation, you followed her to the boathouse, where she took you across the lake the same way you went to and from Hogwarts at the beginning and end of every year, and during the winter holiday. You held your tongue, waiting until you were docked to ask your questions. 

“Are my parents here, in Hogsmeade?” 

“Yes,” McGonagall answered, walking with you down the path through the trees towards Hogsmeade Station. “They are in the Hog’s Head waiting for you. Aberforth has closed the Inn for us to use.”

“Can we trust him?” you asked.

“Yes,” she repeated, hesitating before she continued, “He is the Headmaster’s brother.”

You nodded, unspeaking for the remainder of the short journey. You had no knowledge of their relation, nor any other member of Dumbledore’s family, for that matter. It was strange, however, that he should live so close and never be seen with his brother, or that no student has found out the connection.

Upon arriving at the station, you saw the groundskeeper, Hagrid, standing beside the tracks. You had only spoken to him a handful of times, though you had little reason to believe him disloyal to Dumbledore, or in with the Death Eaters. While there was always a chance for a shock, such as Zephyr, you always found something about Hagrid to be distinctly good-natured, a trait at odds with the necessary qualifications for their ranks. 

He smiled down at you beneath his untamed beard, his expression undoubtedly kind despite him obviously not quite knowing how to go about the unusual situation. You hadn’t much of a clue either, feeling better knowing you weren’t alone in the strangeness of it all. 

They led you away from the station towards Hogsmeade, where to your great surprise, you saw a car parked on the path. It was rather out of shape, parts of the chrome bumper rusted and the red paint lacking any luster. 

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she,” Hagrid said, his gruff voice filled with a childlike animation. 

“Is it yours?” you asked. 

“No, no,” he said, placing his hand on the roof as he admired it. “Borrowed it from a friend.”

McGonagall, who did not appear in high favor of what she was about to say, turned to you. “We have to conceal your presence in the village to the best of our abilities, hence the automobile.”

You nodded, looking back at the car. It was a hardtop and a two-door, making you wonder how Hagrid planned to fit inside, given that he was over eight feet in height and there were three of you. Hagrid opened the driver’s side door, motioning for you to get in. You gave him a puzzled look, wondering why they’d want you to drive, though he only urged you on. 

When you looked into the cab you saw that the car was charmed. Very charmed and very illegal. There was now a backseat, and the height of the roof seemed to be over double what it appeared to be from the outside. You took a step back, looking through the rear window once again. You saw very clearly only a front seat, making you turn to Hagrid and McGonagall in complete befuddlement. 

“It’s borrowed,” Hagrid mumbled.

You didn’t question them, resigning to the mystery as you climbed into the backseat. McGonagall sat beside you, with Hagrid behind the wheel. The engine sputtered as he drove down the path, the castle rising above the thick grove of trees lining the boundary wall. 

Hagrid parked the car in the alley behind the Hog’s Head, stepping out to check if the coast was clear. Aberforth opened the back door, nodding his head for Hagrid to come inside. McGonagall stepped out, hurrying you in behind him. 

You had seen the owner of the pub before, though before today you did not know his name. He had grey hair and a beard like Dumbledore’s, though not as long, and not as well kept. From the few times you had seen him, he never seemed to be a particularly pleasant man, always appearing as if he had experienced a disruption in his plans, or some other inconvenience. You tried to imagine him, ill-disposed and unsociable, standing beside Dumbledore, though you found the task difficult. 

You followed him down a narrow, poorly lit corridor towards the main room, which was equally as dim. The walls were made of an ancient, cracking stone, the ceilings held by thick, wooden beams, just tall enough for Hagrid to stand at full height. The hog head hanging on the wall behind the bar snorted upon seeing your party, though otherwise made no sound. Your parents were nowhere in sight. 

Aberforth looked at you, largely expressionless, with a hint of pity around the eyes. “They’re upstairs,” he said, glancing at McGonagall. “I’ll lead you up.”

Convincing your parents you were all right took a great deal of effort and some tactful arguments, though you were ultimately able to succeed. Your Barnabus Finkley Prize was a help, for you used it to reason with them that you were more than capable of taking care of yourself. You assumed Professor McGonagall had done her share of careful persuasion on your behalf, for they eventually agreed to forgo their temporary move to the village on the condition you would write them every Saturday and Wednesday, rain or shine. You readily accepted, leaving out all details of your omens, your dreams, and James. You supposed it would be a poor time to tell them about any of the three, allowing yourself to procrastinate on account of the dismal day you were having. 

You arrived back at Hogwarts the same way you came, quiet and meditative. You wondered if the Ministry knew about the charmed car or the meeting between your parents and yourself, though you didn’t dare ask. The legality of things was far from your mind, as was Aberforth. The revelation of his familial relations was intriguing, and any other time monumental, though James occupied the vast majority of your thoughts. 

You went straight to the kitchens from the boathouse, wrapping up lunch and taking it to Gryffindor Tower. Eating in the kitchens surrounded by the commotion of bustling house elves would be an unfavorable backdrop to what you were sure would be a depressing meal. When you stepped inside the common room, you found it entirely silent, without a single student in sight. You thought it peculiar, rounding the corner to find out that you were mistaken. 

James sat on the red sofa, entirely alone, turning to look at you with far less surprise than yourself. The fire was unlit, sunlight streaming in through the lattice windows, diamond shadows stretched out upon the wood floors. He had nothing in front of him, not a book or a piece of parchment. Not even the radio played in the corner. You stood motionless for a beat, your heart jolting at the sight of him. He looked dreadful, almost ill in his complexion. 

“You’re not in DADA?” you asked.

He shrugged, turning back at the empty hearth, the thick stone mantle, the tapestries, anything but you. He was slouched more like the way Sirius often sat, his hand hanging limp over the arm of the sofa. 

Without a word you went over, taking the seat next to him, your feet pulled up onto the cushion. You put your lunch to the side, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. Only an inch remained between you, though neither made any move to close it. You could hear his breath, short and shallow, his fingers moving in an uneven, pointless pattern. 

“No one’s here,” you said, speaking low as if you were telling him a secret. 

“There's a sixth year Charms class now,” he explained, flat and emotionless. 

You looked at him, not knowing what else to say. 

After a while he spoke, still not meeting your eyes, “Do you remember that night when Dorcas got high and tried to catch Mrs. Norris?”

The question caught you off guard, making you chuckle. “Yes. Why?”

“I had a dream that night,” he said, far off, as if he were talking only to himself. “It wasn’t prophetic or anything, just a dream, but in it we were on the west bridge. I remember I kissed you, but it wasn’t a first kiss. It was like we had been together for a while, like I knew you’d kissed me before and that you’d do it again,” he stopped, taking a breath like the swell of a wave. “It was one of the worst dreams I’ve ever had.”

Your brows pinched. “Why?”

“Because I woke up certain it’d never come true,” he paused, finally turning to you. “I wish I could have kept you safe.”

“You did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I don’t need keeping anymore,” you said. “Your job is done. Problem solved.”

He stared back at you, his light so dimmed it was barely recognizable anymore. “Everyone needs keeping.”

“You don’t think you need keeping,” you said, almost like things were a few days ago, playful, as if nothing was wrong. 

“I didn’t used to,” he replied, the corners of his mouth pulling into a joyless, bleak smile, “but I was wrong.” He looked away, standing up and walking in front of the fireplace, presumably heading towards the dormitories or the portrait hole.

“James—”

“You should eat. You skipped lunch.”

You loathed the way he sounded: curt, impassive, vacant. You wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him silly, knock out whatever it was that was locking away his fervor, his passion for living. You followed him, grabbing his arm. He let you, almost seeming annoyed by your interruption. 

“We’re going to Quattlebaum tonight before dinner,” you said, more or less demanding it. 

He sighed. “We can go tomorrow.”

“No. We can go tonight. He won’t mind.”

He shook you off, mumbling as he trudged to the portrait hole, his steps heavy on the floor. “It won’t make a difference.”

“James!” you called, though he was already in the corridor, the distance between you seeming as vast as an ocean, you without a ship or sail to take you across. 

You went up to your room after he left, trying to force yourself to read, though ultimately failing. Not long after you pulled on your shoes, making the long trek towards the west wing, thinking of nothing but the horrid mess that lay in front of you. When you arrived at your destination you didn’t know what you were meant to feel, stepping out onto the west bridge as if prepared for a transformative experience. What you received was only a sadness which buried itself deep within your bones, the kind which makes the world seem drab and dull, leached of its color. The heat of the sun meant nothing to your skin, the smell of spring air ordinary and unremarkable. You stayed there for a few minutes before wandering back towards the main castle, nostalgic for a memory you never had. 

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When Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas came back from class you were sitting in the window in your dormitory, your book lying on the floor beside you. You had been wondering when it was you would cry, for you had yet to shed a single tear today, though you felt that a weeping spell was more than warranted. Instead of crying, during which thoughts wove around one another like an indistinguishable, foreign script, you pondered all the things you could say to James to sway his immovable mind. They found you this way, deep in woeful rumination. 

“James is downstairs,” Lily said softly, placing her bag onto her desk. 

You didn’t turn away from the view, blinking yourself back into the present. “Okay.”

Marlene came to stand beside you, leaning against the frame. She stared down at you, her mouth contorted in a pitying frown. “I can tell he wants to see you, but he won’t send one of us to get you.”

For a moment your sadness was replaced with anger at his foolishness, frustration far surpassing what you felt when you fought over Mulciber a few months prior. There was a time, not even a full day ago, when he would tell you that nothing about you and him could ever be wrong. He had said that you were in love, which is the beginning and the end of everything, that all else would fall in place alongside it. Where is he now? You wished you could conjure him, make that James real again. The person downstairs was someone else, an imitation made to trick you into misery. You knew this wasn’t true, of course, though that did nothing to ease the ache. He is an imposter. He’s taken away my James. 

“He thinks that's what's best, not seeing me,” you mumbled. 

Lily said your name, her voice laced with a strong sort of sympathy, letting you know that although she would let you wallow, she would never fully concede to your melancholy temper. You turned, seeing her standing by the stove at the center of the room, her face telling you much the same. “I know you might think it’ll be weird, and maybe it will be, but do you want to talk about it?”

You pressed your lips. “I don’t know.”

“I promise I’ll be good,” Dorcas said, feigning an easier manner.

You smiled, though it was hardly happy. “I know.”

“Even though you didn’t ask,” Marlene said, taking on some of Dorcas’s humor, “I’m going to tell you anyway. I really think everything’ll turn out all right. I just can’t see it not.”

“Obviously, James would disagree,” you said, looking back out the window.

Lily went to sit on your bed, the closest to you. You didn’t look at her when she began to speak, watching the clouds drift like cotton wool pulled apart, streaked tufts in the sky. 

“When James came back up last night, we all went to the RoR—which was a real endeavor without the map. As much as I disapprove of their usual uses for it…it does come in handy now and again,” she chuckled. “Dorcas was an arse, obviously—”

“Uh!”

“—and she asked a million questions, which annoyed James to no end, and the whole thing was a bit of a mess. Marlene told her most of it already, so I’m not sure why she was so curious.”

“I wanted it direct from the source,” Dorcas defended, though it only made Lily roll her eyes. 

“I could tell he was trying to spare me a bit on the details, give me a little more time to get used to things, but he was pretty awful at hiding how he felt,” she paused, though you still wouldn’t look her way. “We never loved each other the way you two do. I don’t think we were ever really in love at all.”

Your breath caught in your throat, though if Lily saw it, she didn’t make any move to acknowledge it. 

“I’ve never seen him this way—none of us have. There’s just something different about this, but it's hard to put your finger on. All I know, all we know, is that if James is stupid enough to end what he has with you, it’ll be the hardest thing he’s ever had to do in his entire life—not that he’s lived some particularly torturous existence up until now,” she laughed, though it fell away quickly. 

Your eyes began to burn, the feeling of pressure moving up your chest. Finally, you thought, I can still cry. 

You put your face in your hand, your mouth half covered by your palm as you looked at Lily, still wearing her expression of commiseration. A stab of guilt remained over the whole ordeal: the kiss last night, the betrayal, the month of lies. It was still a wonder how she wasn’t more upset about it, though you weren’t in the mind to question it. 

“James’ll do it, if he thinks it's right,” you said, muffled by your hand. 

“And we’ll all be livid with him if he does,” Marlene said.

“He’ll have a face full of boils,” said Dorcas, entirely serious. “I don’t care if he kicks me off the team.”

You dropped your hand, frowning. “Don’t do that.”

“We might have trouble stopping her,” Lily said, rising from the bed. “But I’ll do my best.”

You stared off for a moment, the fatigue of the day catching up to you. It seems as though you were able to hold off for some time, though the desire to lie down, to close your eyes and let sleep envelop you was becoming stronger and stronger. There was a comfort in having your dormmates back, even if they didn’t stay in the room as you slept. If you turned into a statue during your nap, transfigured into marble, at least someone would find out eventually. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, your eyes heavy. “I think I’m gonna go to bed.”

Lily smiled softly. “Good. Get some rest.”

Still in your clothes, you crawled into bed, your friends pretending not to watch you as they busied themselves with their own menial tasks. You pulled the curtains closed, peeking out one last time. “Could one of you wake me for dinner, please?”

“Sure,” Marlene said, tossing her Potions textbook onto her bed. “Do you want to come down to the Great Hall?”

You hadn’t thought about it, though the prospect seemed daunting. They saw your hesitance, Lily speaking first. 

“We’ll eat in the kitchens today. Tomorrow we can go to the Great Hall.”

“I think I’ll be fine, really,” you said. “Won’t be any worse today than it will be tomorrow.”

“Absolutely not,” Lily said, firm but kind. “We’re eating in the kitchens, end of discussion.”

You didn’t have the strength to argue, especially when her efforts came out of compassion. So, you only nodded, slipping back behind the scarlet curtain, your vision blurred by unshed tears.

Chapter Thirty

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Tag List: @floverisland @ilovejamespottersomuch @googie-jeon @tvnile @eli-com @lovelyteenagebeard @letssee2468 @abhootghiihii @iamawkwardandshy

[journey-to-the-attic]

rating all of the om songs (so far) to pass time on the train LET'S GO

i was going to split these into separate posts but Ah who CARES they're all here now. for the intents and purposes of this post i am leaning more positive to the romance aspects (usually i'm more ambivalent). looong post ahead!

(i'm considering the lyrics based on the direct unofficial translations credited to Maon_ObeyMe on twitter, rather than the official english versions)

CHARACTER SONGS

Arcadia (Lucifer) -> Sonically: 7/10 I'm oddly into that one synth that comes in after the chorus. The violin stings are cool. Fun to vibe to! Points knocked off because he kind of doesn't sound like Lucifer, though. -> Lyrically: 5/10 Points removed (derogatory) for "lady", other points removed (affectionate) for the hilarity of "I'm fall in love u baby". You can tell it was written when they were still clinging somewhat to the dominant diet Christian Grey thing, but a lot of the lines are still genuinely romantic (while also being very Lucifer.) -> Overall: 7/10 I scrunch my face when I get to That One Line but otherwise I do pick this to listen to semi-regularly.

Are You Ready? (Mammon) -> Sonically: 6/10 Banger, but repetitive. Good rhythm to walk to. Hirotaka Kobayashi's delivery makes it. -> Lyrically: 6/10 Points docked for repetitiveness, but it's cute to see this side of him verbalised. Gender neutral high heels are a serve. -> Overall: 6/10 I don't relisten to this one quite as much as Arcadia, but I think that's just a genre preference.

My Chance! (Levi) -> Sonically: 8/10 The mixing on his voice is a bit weird, but it fits in with the chiptune sound, which I adore. Really catchy chorus. I also really like that soft bell insturment that's playing along with the main melody. -> Lyrically: 8/10 Really cute! Levi's characterised really well here. I love his little spoken interjections - Satoshi Kada is one of my favourite VAs in terms of delivery. (Levi's lines are some of the best in either of the voiced pop quizzes.) -> Overall: 8/10 Cute and fun to listen to. It's really easy to imagine a music video for this one.

Read My Heart (Satan) -> Sonically: 8/10 Really pretty piano instrumental, but I feel like there could've been a bit of variation. On the one hand, layering in some strings could've sounded really nice, but on the other, it does feel more personal as a solo piano ballad. Shinya Sumi has a really nice voice. -> Lyrically: 9/10 Very sweet, almost poetic, very Satan. The reference to cats doesn't feel heavy-handed. It feels like he wrote it. -> Overall: 9/10 I really like the bridge. It has a sort of lullaby quality as well, so it's nice to fall asleep to, or listen to when you need to calm down.

Pomade (Asmo) -> Sonically: 7/10 It's better-produced than some of the songs I've given a higher sonic rating, but this is more a matter of preference - this song isn't super my style. -> Lyrically: 10/10 EXCELLENT. The journey Asmo goes on? Starting out singing about himself and tempting you, then shifting to singing about you (You are my captive -> I am your captive) - the way it basically reflects his arc in OM S1? Chef's kiss. Beautiful. -> Overall: 7/10 I don't listen to it that often but I do think about those lyrics. They're so good. This is how you write a character song.

Hungry Six-Pack (Beel) Sonically: 8/10 I'm a sucker for that 'wah' effect on the guitar. I really like the rock sound, but I think it was done better in Barbatos's song. (Sorry, Beel.) Kyohei Yaguchi also does a really good job on the performance - you really get the feeling that this is how Beel himself would perform in a band. The interval in "darou" in the chorus is to die for, as is the "forever, forever-ah-ah-ah" in the last chorus. Lyrically: 6/10 Even in songs Beel cannot escape the "they only know how to write him with one character trait" allegations (/hj). To be fair, it'd be hard to get into his deeper character without dipping into lyrics about survivor's guilt, which I feel wasn't what they were going for. Overall: 7/10 I like to imagine him performing this at a bar. Also, total aside, but I really don't like that title.

Dreamscape (Belphie) -> Sonically: 9/10 I'm not usually a lo-fi person, but the vibes are perfect for Belphie and I really like this composition. -> Lyrically: 7/10 Really cute, but pretty basic - then again any of the songs' lyrics seem so when you compare them to the Queen Pomade. I do like how much Belphie's needy little-brother nature comes through here. "Hey, come see me, please?" Makes me want to pinch his cheek. -> Overall: 9/10 The sound alone carries it. I listen to it pretty regularly.

No.1 (Diavolo) -> Sonically: 9/10 Takuhei Yamamoto is giving it so much oomph and it's fantastic and also very in-character for Diavolo himself. He would be that enthusiastic. He would throw his head back and belt like that mic was made for him. (I find the "Sā, hora!" before the chorus really cute.) -> Lyrically: 6/10 It feels a little weird that he's doing the dominant thing in the lyrics here, but his sin attribute is apparently pride, and it's interesting that they chose this characterisation for him given he's usually so affable. (It's not like it came out of nowhere, to be fair - Diavolo basically admits to it on occasion, he seems to just hold it back, usually.) -> Overall: 7/10 Solid song that I don't listen to all that often for some reason.

Crazy About You (Barbatos) -> Sonically: 10/10 Absolute banger. The guitar solo makes me want to run through walls. Masayuki Harada's performance as Barbatos is also both spot-on and pitch perfect. That "Ahh-" leading into the chorus is gorgeous. I'm not the biggest fan of the spoken lines, but I appreciate that they're there for those truly starved stans who don't get nearly enough of him in the main story. -> Lyrically: 8/10 Perhaps oddly I really like his mix of servitude and sternness here. Feels playful in a way that I think really works for his dynamic with MC. (If only they'd utilise it in the game.) -> Overall: 10/10 It's just that much of a banger. Barbatos I'm so sorry for what the NB remix did to you. You were too powerful.

My Wish (Luke) -> Sonically: 6/10 Gonna be honest I completely forgot how this song sounded after I finished listening to it for the first time. I'm not the biggest fan of Luke's voice direction and there are parts in this where I just fully see a full grown man doing the voice. I do really like the chorus (the part that mentions sweets and cream) though. -> Lyrically: 8/10 Just very cute. Pretty much exactly what you'd expect from Luke - another one of those where you can easily imagine that the character wrote it themselves. -> Overall: 6/10 I don't think I've listened to it more than five times, to be honest. I actually quite like the NB remix for this one.

Question Love (Simeon) -> Sonically: 4/10 Simeon what the hell did they do to you. The production is fine, it's just... the autotune? It isn't like Yu Hirata can't sing. Why did they do that? Presumably it's a stylistic thing, which I'm not against, it's just not executed well. (Though it's cute to imagine Simeon himself being responsible, as tech-illiterate as he is.) It's a weird genre for a character like him, too. I was expecting another ballad, maybe with a harp... -> Lyrically: 6/10 Feels quite generic - I feel like Simeon of all characters would have had a more poetically written song, and his relationship with MC could have been particularly interesting to write about. (Though I'm not sure how long ago this was released.) -> Overall: 5/10 He deserved better. I do like the instrumental on his NB remix, though. That deep bass synth in the back is great

Our Destiny (Solomon) -> Sonically: 7/10 Really like those violins on the chorus. The blend of the strings with the more lo-fi adjacent sound is actually really fitting for a character like Solomon. Kazuki Kawata has this really nice smooth voice, and his ad-libbing at the end is pretty charming. The "hey!" on the chorus sometimes veers into youtube_kids_going_yay.mp3 territory for me, though. -> Lyrically: 7/10 I really like that he calls back to one of his in-game phone calls. It's kind of funny that he sounds so sure of himself when there's an almost insecure nature to his affections in NB especially. -> Overall: 7/10 All around good song. Another one who got done dirty by his remix.

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UNIT SONGS

Choose Me (Mammon, Levi, Asmo) -> Sonically: 6/10 I like the big brass sound, but... eh. Feels like something's missing. I like Hirotaka Kobayashi's delivery on Mammon's rap lines, but the chorus in particular feels kind of lacking. -> Lyrically: 7/10 I don't know what this 'love game' is but I don't think I want to participate. I also fully hear "gay" every single time. That aside, the verses are pretty good. -> Overall: 5/10 Not really for me, but I'll listen to it on shuffle sometimes. This one's remix was criminally bad.

Telepathy (Beel, Belphie) -> Sonically: 10/10 Such a pretty instrumental. Is that "ooooooo" in the background Belphie? It does sound like Satoshi Onishi's voice. The twins both sound perfectly in character and in sync with each other (though I would've liked for them to have a verse together.) Their spoken bridge is adorable. -> Lyrically: 7/10 It's hard to gauge the vibes from the lyrics. They're definitely singing to/about each other (they say so in the bridge), and that's clear in the chorus, but there are a few parts where it's like. Is that something you say to a brother?? Did a songwriter miss a memo? Also what does "your muscles are mood" mean. -> Overall: 9/10 It's such a comforting song to listen to. I just get a bit distracted by "your muscles are mood" every time. Belphie. What does that mean. Please

Passion (Lucifer, Satan) -> Sonically: 8/10 Really big fan of the piano. The breathing sounds caught me off-guard at first, but I know to expect them now. I really like both VA's performances. Lucifer sounds like Lucifer again! -> Lyrically: 7/10 I find Lucifer's line "I said that I’d listen with patience and silence, but you've got some nerve to actually continue" kind of out-of-place - it's more consistent with his characterisation in early NB than anywhere in OM when this was released, which is interesting - but the rest is pretty good. I really couldn't imagine singing this alongside your own sibling though. -> Overall: 8/10 I don't tend to choose this one a lot, but I don't skip it if it comes on in shuffle.

Take It Easy (Satan, Belphie) -> Sonically: 8/10 Really fun bouncy instrumental. I really like the rapport between these two here. (Would you say Belphie's in falsetto? Either way, I love how he and Satan take the higher and lower registers respectively.) -> Lyrically: 10/10 God I love these lyrics. They're so funny. The brief moment of sincerity before they go right back to singing about how much they love pranking Lucifer. "Makes me happy" makes me so happy. It's so sweet. These little rascals. These absolute rapscallions. -> Overall: 9/10 I like the sound of Rock On better, but the LYRICS. They're so great.

Rock On!! (Lucifer, Mammon) -> Sonically: 9/10 This one's another banger. The VAs do a great job with the back-and-forth delivery in the spoken bridge (I especially love how Lucifer and Mammon both sound like they're pretending really hard that they don't give a shit on "Yoroshiku douzo negawakuba" together". Lucifer also sounds like he ran out of air on "...omae wa" a little earlier. Lol -> Lyrically: 8/10 It's really funny to listen to them both strut their stuff singing about themselves in the verses and then suddenly get sincere to each other on the bridge. Though I think this song could've really benefited from the "feels like it was written by the characters" approach. -> Overall: 9/10 I just really like it!

Trigger (Levi, Asmo, Beel) -> Sonically: 8/10 This used to be my favourite of these three unit songs sonically, but solely the delivery of "Trigger!" bothers me a little bit. It could use more force, is all. That aside, everyone did a fantastic job and Satoshi Kada in particular served on Levi's verse. -> Lyrically: 7/10 I'm not even entirely sure what's going on in this song, but I like it. I didn't like Asmo addressing you as "kitten", but I did really like Miura Ayme adding a sort of cutesy whining tone to "I'm the cutest demon in the world, right?" - Ayme in general does a great job with Asmo's character in songs. -> Overall: 8/10 Still good! I think my tastes have just shifted since I first listened to it.

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OPENING SONGS

Sinful Indulgence (OM!:SWD) -> Sonically: 9/10 It really is a bop. Miura Ayme's performance is great. -> Lyrically: 8/10 Pretty strong! "Oh baby, obey me!" is clever and very catchy. I only ever use the word sexy as a joke so it catches me off guard when Asmo says it, but that's not really a complaint. The dark-and-sinful nature of the lyrics is really funny when you compare it to the stuff these guys actually get up to in-story. -> Overall: 8/10 It's a good listen and a good opening to the game, even if the lyrics don't really reflect the content all that well.

Devil's Way (OM!:NB) -> Sonically: 9/10 Ohhh whatever that metallic bell sound in the intro+outro instrumental is, it is a tasty sound. Shinya Sumi is performing his heart out and he's doing fantastic. I still can't fully tell if that's Belphie or Levi on the start of the second verse, but whoever it is did a really good job of making it sound subtly unsettling. The bridge starts shifting into edgy territory, but the whole song is teetering, to be honest. Also, I've mentioned this before, but the "sekai de-eeee" just before the bridge is still so good. -> Lyrically: 8/10 I adore the use of "sweetiepie" in the chorus but it does detract a little from the dark vibe they've got going on. Lucifer using 'boku' in this song of all places is bewildering and hilarious. The darker tone definitely fits in with S1 and S2. -> Overall: 8/10 Something about that bridge bothers me. Other than that, banger.

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BROTHER ENSEMBLE SONGS

It's My Party -> Sonically: 9/10 It's a bop. -> Lyrically: 6/10 Relatively basic. From a cynical perspective, the brothers basically each tell you their One Assigned Trait that the writers fall back on when they can't be bothered to do deep characterisation, but that's not the fault of the songwriter. I take psychic damage every time I hear "haters gonna hate." -> Overall: 9/10 I've listened to this quite regularly since I had my friend edit me the version with "haters gonna hate" cut out. (It's a 7/10 with the hater line left in.)

Eternal -> Sonically: 9/10 So nice. I can't unhear the first few notes as See You Again, but the rest of the track is definitely a credit to itself. I feel like there could've been more orchestral build-up, but that might also make it feel too dramatic... as is, it feels more candid and personal. Like you could imagine this being performed to you in a small local theater. -> Lyrically: 10/10 There is definitely bias at play, but hearing this as OM's first sincere ensemble love song made a pretty big impression. The lyrics are so sweet. "My love" is one of those terms of affection that I love so much I don't even mind when it's used on me. -> Overall: 10/10 Again, biased, but this song just has a special place in my heart.

On Your Way -> Sonically: 6/10 It's.... fine? I like the instrumental, but the chorus feels a little empty. Shinya Sumi hitting that high note on "Let's get you on your way" each time is kind of inspiring, though. Belt it, girl! -> Lyrically: 7/10 The "eeny-meeny-miny-mo" is so silly but I love it. -> Overall: 6/10 Pretty standard stuff.

With You -> Sonically: 9/10 Gosh, another really pretty instrumental! I think the seven VAs are definitely more comfortable singing as an ensemble here, though it would've been nice to get some more harmonies... -> Lyrically: 10/10 They're so sappy but that's what makes it work, especially delivered in all sincerity like this. Something about that last line (and its delivery) feels so earnest. -> Overall: 9/10 I'm just a sucker for whatever genre you call this and Eternal. Also, I really like title callback to S2's play (I don't think it was necessarily intentional, but still).

Spooky Night Parade -> Sonically: 7/10 It's a really fun instrumental. I love the little "hehehee....... trick or treat?" in between choruses and verses. They're just little guys. -> Lyrically: 6/10 Just sort of standard Halloween-y lyrics that don't mean too much. -> Overall: 7/10 it feels more like a novelty song than something I'd listen to regularly.

Magic Moment -> Sonically: 9/10 Oooooh that's a nice instrumental. The swelling dynamics are so satisfying, the vocal performances are all lovely. I love that glockenspiel in the back. (At least I think that's what it is.) (I've imagined IK playing it while the brothers perform this before.) -> Lyrically: 9/10 Another "it's so sappy I love it" moment. "I'm so happy I could cry" Like GUYS!! Aw man I love you. They drop three I love yous and they're all great. -> Overall: 10/10 I know the maths doesn't add up but I just really like this song.

Anniversary -> Sonically: 8/10 Strong instrumental, but I feel like the delivery on the raps in the first verse are a little lacking? Asmo and Belphie's verses feel incredibly satisfying for whatever reason. Though Belphie(?)'s little "come on baby" at the end just makes me laugh. I feel like the chorus could've benefited from splitting the brothers up a little (at least for the first two) rather than having them all sing at once. I love hearing them all talk to each other at the beginning, like a behind-the-curtain moment. -> Lyrically: 9/10 "We can't live without you" AWWWWWWWW -> Overall: 9/10 Feels nostalgic even though it came out this year. Another one where the overall rating is based on pure vibes and feeling

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TRIWORLDS

All the Feels -> Sonically: 10/10 Certified banger. Is it something about Barbatos? (His "one more time" in the final chorus is kinda hype.) Feel like there could've been more variety in the instrumental, though. -> Lyrically: 8/10 The verses feel more personal to the characters than in e.g. It's My Party, but the chorus is still pretty basic. It's a little upsetting that one of Barbatos's lines here has more depth to it than most of his characterisation thus far. I find it really funny that they call the listener "buddy." Probably would've been too weird for Luke to say "honey". Also, the "We are dancing, we are dancing (uh, uh)" bridge is so dumb (in a cute and funny way) -> Overall: 10/10 Just a great song to listen to (and imagine choreography to.)

[bonefall]

Do you have any ideas for Owlnose, the least qualified dude to be leader and the first one to immediately say "Fuck it, I can't do this." And refuse the lives?

For one, I want the dude to be consistently kind of a silly loser. I don't rewrite arcs until they're done, but it's always a good time to start doing setup for the future!

Him and his brother Jayclaw had a bit of a clique with Podlight. The three of them were a little group of party boys.

Owlnose developed an interest in drums (Owlfaces) from a young age, partially because of his name.

And, partially, because Jayclaw was a FANTASTIC dancer. Jay became proficient in playing Jingleshells (a full body instrument made of netting and clicking shells) but he loved practicing with a drumbeat behind him.

Podlight is pretty good at improv and singing. Cat band.

Jayclaw fell hard for Curlfeather and Owlnose was a great wingman, but Owl's not interested in romance himself.

He just wants to drum

I need to wait for ASC to wrap up before deciding on if he was in cahoots with Curlfeather's plot, but I'm leaning towards no.

I CANNOT stress enough. He just wants to drum.

Lazy boy who does his jobs and catches enough fish. But you know what's better than fishing? Sleeping

Fish have no reason to fear me. Women are generally ambivalent towards me.

His name in Clanmew is Weearchoop. Barn Owl Button.

"Choop" is the fleshy part of the snout. Clanmew has a lot more words for various parts of the muzzle, but Owlnose's name translates to what a human usually thinks of when you hear the word "nose."

It's a pretty cutesy name, which is fitting for him. He likes the name a lot, actually.

You could translate it as "Hootboop" and you'd get a good idea of how it sounds to a Clanmew speaker.

That's him so far. Guy who Frostpaw is fond of, as her goofy uncle, but absolutely wanted no part of power. Boy on the bongo.

[unforgivable-thatswhatiam]

Somebody to love

"Crowley had lost Aziraphale, and the world was ending in a few hours. He was in Hell's bad books. Not that Hell has any other kind."

In the scene, we see Crowley making a dramatic exit, like a great tragic - queer - hero from the bookshop, magically slamming shut the doors of his sanctuary of love, a place where he would ever return, nor Aziraphale, now gone (or so he believes). He pauses for a moment, takes off his glasses — scorched by fire — and lets them fall, clarifying to himself that he’s not doing it because he’s a demon (the demons has killed is love): “I shouldn't litter, should I? I mean, I probably should litter, I'm a demon after all, but nobody's really keeping score any more.”

Now that Aziraphale is gone and the end of the world is near, nobody's really keeping score any more.

There's no point in pretending to be a “good” demon, now – he’d done that just to stay close to Aziraphale without danger.

Without him, there's no point in dreaming of escape to Alpha Centauri (A+C ❤️), even if the risk is now inevitable. There's no more reason to fight for a better life.

Without him, the very possibility of a better existence — of any life at all — is gone.

And like people who have nothing left to hope for, Crowley lets himself go, just like his glasses: he wants to lose himself, to lose consciousness, and perhaps to feel a little less of the pain of losing his angel — as he waits for the end of the world, for the Earth, and for himself.

But before we see him drown himself in entire bottles of Talisker, it's the Bentley that offers us a glimpse into Crowley’s subconscious* — even more layered than it first appears. Just like she did when Crowley believed he could save Aziraphale, she chooses a song.

* As with You’re My Best Friend, we don’t know whether it’s a Queen song Crowley likes, or if it’s only the Bentley’s choice. But she is an extension of his personality — and in the series, at least, it serves as a window into Crowley’s mind. So it seems she picks the song that best fits what’s going through the demon’s head at that moment.

The song in question is Somebody to Love. In the scene, we only hear the outro, repeating variations on the theme: (Can anybody) find me somebody to love?

We know that Crowley isn’t going out in search of someone to replace Aziraphale, though. So why this song?

It’s not the usual Queen-style classic rock, but a piece of rock gospel, inspired by Freddie Mercury’s deep admiration for Aretha Franklin. The term gospel itself refers to the word of God (see the Gospels), and the genre is rooted in Christian faith, with songs of explicitly religious inspiration. So Somebody to Love, despite the title, isn’t indeed a love song: it deals with people themes — despair, faith, the search for one's soul, and the basic human need to love and be loved. Starting to sound like someone we know?

Looking at the lyrics more closely might help us make more sense of it 😇

[Intro] Can anybody find me Somebody to love?

The intro, sung a cappella by Freddie Mercury, highlights the need to find somebody to love. The tone — both hopeful and uncertain — reveals a deep fear of failing to do so. The line is also ambivalent: it can mean too “Can someone find me somebody to love (= can someone find me worthy of being loved)? In GO this is no longer possible. Crowley had someone who loved him, who saw him as worthy of love. No one else ever will.

[Verse 1] Ooh, each morning I get up I die a little Can barely stand on my feet Take a look at yourself in the mirror and cry Take a look in the mirror and cry Lord, what you're doing to me? (Yeah, yeah) I have spent all my years in believin' you But I just can't get no relief, Lord

[Chorus] (…) [Verse 2] I work hard (He works hard) every day of my life I work 'till I ache my bones At the end (At the end of the day) I take home My hard-earned pay all on my own (Goes home, goes home on his own) I get down (Down) on my knees (Knees) and I start to pray (Praise the Lord) 'Till the tears run down from my eyes, Lord

The protagonist of the song is a grand, tragic romantic and everyday hero: he does everything he’s supposed to, even when it’s too much for him — and each day, he dies a little. He’s exhausted, wounded, depressed. Barely holding himself together. He can’t even look in the mirror without crying. He’s frustrated, because he’s always believed in God, always prayed Him — but finds no relief. What is God doing to him?

“The God who claims to love you, who demands your praise…”

It could certainly be Crowley: he was a good angel, did everything he was asked, and was cast down to Hell, into "a pool of boiling sulphur", for his associations (with other angels!), a bit of critical thinking, and asking questions.

Even then, he always did his duty, trying not to truly harm anyone (only to irritate humans). He continued to speak with God, praise Her, pray to Her, and seek comfort, but never received a response.

He’s desperate because he’s made unforgivable for something that shouldn’t even need to be forgiven. Because he couldn’t live freely the one thing that made him happy, and he couldn’t protect his love. And God, who had already taken away his innocence and happiness as an angel, took it from him again.

And he cries — hidden behind his sunglasses, so no one can see — just as he does in the car, on the way to the bar.

A note: in the Judeo-Christian faith, being good and doing everything God asks — in the Old Testament, a not necessarily good or just God — is not a guarantee of receiving favorable or even good treatment (see Job). But Freddie Mercury was Zoroastrian. The creator he believed in, Ahura Mazda, represents the good and demands goodness (good thoughts, good words, good deeds) to win the cosmic battle against evil, represented by the spirit Ahriman, with the promise of a happy life both in this world and in the afterlife.

[Chorus] (…) [Bridge] (He works hard) everyday (Everyday) I try and I try and I try But everybody wants to put me down They say I'm going crazy They say I got a lot of water in my brain I got no common sense (He's got) I got nobody left to believe No, no, no, no

The narrator feels frustration even in the environment around him: no one respects him, everyone brings him down, they think he’s crazy. And he has no one to believe in, no one to love.

Without Aziraphale, what does Crowley have left? The first verse makes me think of when Crowley was explaining his plan on the M25 to the demons at headquarters. No one in Hell has imagination, the demons don’t understand him, they think he’s “gone native" or crazy (he doesn’t have their "common sense"). The angels hate him, and they’re boring and snooty, bees. Without Aziraphale, what can he believe in? What’s left for him?

[Guitar solo] [Chorus] (Ooh, ooh, ooh, Lord)

(…) [Verse 3] Got no feel, I got no rhythm I just keep losing my beat (You just keep losing and losing) I'm okay, I'm alright (He's alright, he's alright) I ain't gonna face no defeat (Yeah, yeah) I just gotta get out of this prison cell (One day) Someday I'm gonna be free, Lord

[Outro] Find me somebody to love (...) Can anybody find me Somebody to love? (...) Find me, find me, find me, find me

After a new invocation to God, we see that the sad and depressed hero of the song feels inadequate, lacking sensitivity ("don’t you feel it?... Flashes of love") and rhythm. He keeps losing.

But this is a Queen song: there’s still hope! No matter how depressed and convinced he is of having many limitations, against all evidence, the narrator’s pessimism turns into determination. One day, he will free himself from this prison, from this unhappy life. With true love.

Even Crowley feels inadequate, as we see many times, though he pretends to have self-esteem and confidence he doesn’t really possess.

He has lost so many times to be able to be optimistic, to be aware of his own abilities: Aziraphale is the only one who has healed his wounds, who truly knows him, who believes in him and convinces him that he can do things he never thought possible. And he has lost him.

In this scene, in my opinion, the choice of the song is meant to convey Crowley’s despair and depression, whose determination lies in the fact that he will free himself from this life, which, without Aziraphale, has become a prison with no way out. And he awaits that moment with the last pleasure he has left: alcohol.

Then the outro comes, where the main vocals and the chorus seem to slowly fall asleep, exhausted from having fully opened themselves to the audience. And indeed, Crowley puts on his new "protective" sunglasses over the last "love" sung by Freddie Mercury, followed by -bodies, closing both the song and the scene.

However, the choice of this song for us, the audience, also offers another interpretation: we know that the song is optimistic, and the hero will do everything to find his "someone to love". And just a few minutes later, he will discover that it is still possible 💞

[veliseraptor]

March Reading Recap

hey, it's still April, it's not too late yet.

Relatively light reading month as reading months go, mostly because I spent the vast majority of the time reading one single really long book. At least it was a pretty good book, though.

as last month, still continuing my Wheel of Time reread - did Knife of Dreams and The Gathering Storm, both of which I actually really like albeit Knife of Dreams more so. The other, non-Wheel of Time books that I read:

The Iliad by Homer (trans. Emily Wilson). This was actually my first time ever reading the full text of the Iliad, which I feel vaguely embarrassed about. Read the Odyssey, what, three times, but not this one ever? Guess it took Emily Wilson to get me there, even though I have had another recommended translation sitting on my shelf for a while. As usual deeply appreciated the deep thoughtfulness and explicitly laid out perspective Emily Wilson gave on the translation process/choices itself. I feel like I missed out on the chance to read this within a context where I could really dig into/discuss it, but I suppose I could go hunting some studies/literature on it. I think I'm always going to prefer the dramatic takes on the Trojan War cycle to the epics themselves just by virtue of my personal narrative preferences, but I'm glad to have finally read this one so I can have a better sense of the ways in which other texts are in conversation with it.

Trickster Makes This World: Mischief, Myth, and Art by Lewis Hyde. I've had this book on my shelf for approximately forever and finally got around to reading it, as a lifelong Fan of the trickster archetype. I really appreciated it - found it very thought provoking particularly in terms of the ways it discussed the cultural work that tricksters do. I felt like it was weakest when it moved from "traditional" myth into more modern "versions" of tricksterdom, but that doesn't wholly surprise me.

Remnants of Filth: vol. 6 by Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou. If I'm comparing the two works I've read (which it's hard not to) I think I prefer Erha to this one, but I've still been really enjoying the reading experience - almost to the end here (one more volume in the published translation) and I think I probably will go back at some point and reread in its entirety. Some of the later-novel twists I've been a little less enthused about, including some that hit in this volume, but I'm interested to see how it all pulls together at the end.

The Hands of the Emperor by Victoria Goddard. I have such complex feelings about this book and how they end up settling will determine whether or not I read the sequel. Right now I'm kind of on the end of "won't" but we shall see. The interesting thing here, though, is that I found myself comparing this in certain ways - mostly tonally - to The Goblin Emperor, and I actually liked this one more.

It's out of my wheelhouse in a few different ways, most prominently in terms of it being a very...quiet...book. It's not driven by any major singular conflict or confrontation; it's much slower and more - the best word I have is "deliberate" - than that. It's a very interesting piece of fiction and I'm still not totally sure if I "liked" it or not. I feel like I spent a lot of my reading oddly removed from the experience, observing my own reactions and thoughts about the text more than experiencing the text itself. Probably the part of this book that I feel most ambivalent about is how clearly ideologically driven it is, though it handled it much more gracefully than any number of books I have read in the last few years. It has a point to be made and it makes it, but it lands it with less anvil-like force than many authors would.

I feel like this book falls in the category of "books I am curious to have other people whose book-opinions I appreciate read because I want to hear their thoughts, but would hesitate to explicitly recommend to them."

The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell. I've seen this book floating around for many years, but it took it getting selected for a book club for me to finally read it, and I'm a little sad I waited this long. It's sort of interestingly paced in terms of where the major "action" falls, but I think that fact emphasizes that that isn't what the work as a whole is most interested in. There's something contained and thoughtful about this book, for all it has some pretty heavy stuff in it; it's very much about faith and religion, though, so if those are things that aren't interesting or are active turn-offs then it's probably not for you.

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun: vol. 8 by Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou. Speaking of Erha!!! we're getting into the endgame now and it's some of my favorite stuff. Some of my less favorite stuff, too (unfortunately) but mostly the good. I continue to be really enjoying the opportunity to read this part of the novel in a form other than cleaned-up machine-translated version.

The Devil's Playground by Craig Russell. I picked this one up more or less on a whim because I was looking for new horror (as I so often am) and am casually interested in Golden Age Hollywood as a subject that I know fairly little about but enjoy dabbling in. I felt rewarded, though it ended up feeling more like a mystery than like horror. The spooling out of information and gradual reveals were well handled - the way that the three separate narratives gradually came together felt graceful and satisfying. Glad I plucked this one from the shelves.

--

After finishing out my Wheel of Time reread this month with the last two books (A Memory of Light as of yesterday) I'm a little at loose ends as far as what I'm wanting to read. Currently reading Metal From Heaven which has yet to hook me, though I have only just begun it.

Bought myself a little bookish treat (an academic work on Tolkien) so maybe I'll read that; I started reading it back in, like, 2015 and then had to return it to an academic library I subsequently lost access to. I still have Hungerstone on hold at the library, which I really want to read but I'm still a couple down the holds list.

[diminuel]

I think the au where Roger is Dragon’s dad is the same one where he and Crocodile are able to hold it together enough to stay a couple through the pregnancy+birth and thereAfter

Having a parent who openly loved him and didn’t make him spend every moment doing push ups and fighting bears was just enough to give Dragon the emotional intelligence he needed to make this work in his 30s

Possible! Most of my AUs Dragon and Crocodile manage to make it work somehow, usually with some break ups (there is one AU for sure where they don't make it, possibly two depending on whether they are the same.)

If we take Stinky Child AU, Dragon did spend time with Roger (as shown in the Baby on Board comics), though there's not been a lot of contact between Dragon and the Roger pirates after a certain point and Dragon is at least somewhat ambivalent about his relationship with Roger. But he's had people in his life that cared about him. And while Garp's a mess and does make him do push ups and fight bears and throws him into all kinds of life and sanity threatening situations when he's far too young, he cares deeply about him too.

Though now I'm thinking about how Roger and Dragon having a proper father-son relationship might have impacted what happens later on.

[themothandthebear]

I've asked before about Kanai society and how things works, but what about the Sphinx? Furthermore, what are the similarities and differences between the Sparrow, Sand and Mountain Sphinxes society/culture wise? I mainly ask cuz I greatly enjoy the worldbuilding that you do , is always a fun and interesting read :3

Unfortunately, sphinx are creatures I haven't developed nearly as much as I have Kanai, but here are a few things I know for certain about them (apologies if some is stuff I've said before):

Above all else, all sphinxes are what I'd call "gracefully unattached" in most aspects of their lives and cultures. Their core values reflect this. They do not maintain or defend territories, they keep no allegiances to any groups, be them spiritual, civil, or geographical, and they do not organize formally in any way. In fact, many sphinx find doing so distasteful, or even downright disgusting. This attitude can sometimes carry into their personal relationships, but not usually. Sphinx do develop deep attachments to individuals they consider their friends or family, and they are all generally friendly to other intelligent creatures. They tend to meet the world with deep curiosity and wonder.

Sparrow sphinx, the smallest kind of sphinx, are the least outgoing, though this is largely due to their size, as they can be more easily taken advantage of. They are also the most social amongst their own kind, and tend to congregate in casual flocks for safety. They often roost in abandoned human habitations, or inhabited ones, if the residents are friendly to them. They are likely to fly and never return at the first sign of trouble.

Sand sphinx are the most aggressive, and the most likely to attack humans. Like most sphinx, they still enjoy a good conversation and/or a good book, so they can be negotiated with.

Mountain sphinx, the largest, are the most confident and ambivalent of the sphinx, and the most solitary in nature. They do enjoy a good party, though, and are gentle creatures at heart (as long as you aren't a delicious mountain goat).

All three "races" of sphinx can reproduce with each other and create "hybrids", but this is extremely rare, because male sphinx are almost completely unheard of. Sphinx usually reproduce by parthenogenesis, though the mechanism is not understood, and magic is certainly involved. Individual expression in sphinx is extraordinarily broad and varied, but most sphinx find the confines of gender as humans see it unbearably dull and needlessly restrictive. Many sphinx will bristle when asked what gender they prefer to be refereed to as, or they might find the opportunity to make a gender-conforming human uncomfortable too tempting to let pass. Generally it's safe to assume any given sphinx uses she/her pronouns unless told otherwise. But you'd best switch immediately and express not an ounce of discomfort if corrected.

Almost as core to a sphinx's nature as their ambivalence is their undeniable impulse to just troll the hell out of people. When speaking to a sphinx, it's best to keep a casual air and a sense of humor. If a sphinx detects discomfort or uncertainty, you can be sure they will find some way to pick at it until you find yourself questioning everything you've ever believed about yourself, humanity, or the world at large. Prepare to be gaslit, is what I'm saying. Or prepare to chuckle and shake your head at dad jokes. You never really know.

All sphinx are wanderers, and never stay in one place for long. The world is vast and beautiful, full of unknowns and truths alike. Why stay still when there's so much to see? Though their curiosity may carry them far and wide, they'll always return to their friends.

(a mountain sphinx and sparrow sphinx meet in a rare place their respective ranges happen to overlap)

[koipalm]

HI YES HELLO HI HI HIHI HIHIHIHIHI. HI. SORRY, I'M TRYING TO PROCESS. YOUR. SY ASSISTANT AU. Hey. Hi. I'm in love with it. I'm in love with your au. I keep thinking of the hijinks that Shen Yuan gets into with the other peak lords. I'm sorry, but I'm going to ramble about it - if anything, it's all your fault for making such a brilliant AU. Shoot me down if I'm wrong about any headcanons I'm making about it, but teeheeheeehehehehehee. Okay, so first, thinking about Xian Shu peak. Because Shen Yuan is so irrevocably fruity that, when other guys could be being creepy over the girls upon the peak, Shen Yuan is just trying to stay upright and not pass out because of the ✨gay thoughts✨ that stop him from sleeping. The girls could even find him sweet in the way you see a dishevelled rat and go "awww!", whereas Qi Qingqi just occasionally nudges him with her foot to make sure he isn't dead. Next, next, Liu Mingyuan. The chaotic shipper herself. She sees Shen Yuan glancing at Liu Qingge occasionally and just cracks her knuckles like, "oh, this is is going to make a great book series" and, in typical fashion, starts writing everything. She, at one point, writes Shen Qingqiu as a love rival, which is something that Shang Qinghua holds over poor Shen Yuan's head forever. Liu Mingyuan is the kind of gal that has locked Shen Yuan and Liu Qingge in close quarters together just so she can make new writing about it later. Liu Qingge, who sees this pathetic blob of a man sometimes dragging himself around the different peaks (usually in spirit but, on a couple of very strange occasions, literally), has no idea where Shen Yuan came from. So, after asking his sister, he decides to ask the man himself - in what he thinks is a very normal fashion. Shen Yuan, however, sees Liu Qingge (terrifying Peak Lord of Bai Zhan) storming towards him and promptly cornering him, and just passes out. Hands down. After this, he is utterly baffled. When Mu Qingfang asks (read: scolds) about it during what can be described as a supply drop, Liu Qingge is treated to a lecture that is basically "Shen Yuan is like a little mouse whose heart will give out at any moment because he doesn't take care of himself." Liu Qingge listens and hears "Shen Qingqiu bad." It's not like he's actually trying to steal Shen Yuan in any sense of the word, he just likes the little mouse not looking ready to pass out (he would definitely force a cup of tea into the man before he lets him leave, because he's helping right? Toootally.) I did say I would ramble...I did say I would- (Sorry, I just love love love it)

thank u so much for liking it!! im actually really blown away that this many people like the au it was very simple when i thought abt it <3

& unfortunately (& i probably should have specified earlier my bad lol) shen yuan has a lot of fraught relationships with the other cang qiong cultivators! most won't say it to his face but plenty think he's putting on an act or scheming with sqq and because of how close he and sqq work he can't escape sqq's reputation in the sect. a lot of the disciples from xian shu peak actively despise him for working under sqq, while qi qingqi herself is suspicious but mostly ambivalent. liu mingyan is reserved because she eventually sees lqg and sy get along fine, and she would have a lot of fun with his stupid humor. lqg is ALSO mostly ambivalent to him bc of sqq but they grow closer together due to proximity. his whole confusion on sqq and sy's relationship would have to be a completely new post lawl

that being said shen yuan is actually fairly close to mu qingfang in a coworkers way in that mqf actively worries after his health but he's mostly unwilling to interfere in sy and sqq's relationship due to fear of retaliation. all in all i find it really fun to take the popular views on shen yuan and his relationships and make them more complicated SORRYY my bad i just think its really interesting ^^ it's not to say that he won't ever have friends its just that i think cang qiong mountain has a whole host of problems they should address and im having fun with it HAHA

[alittlebitofloveliness]

The Outsiders and Attachment

Ohhhhhkay y'all I finished my human development final two hours ago (we love exams that end at 10pm) and I'm currently functioning on two hours of sleep and and a wee bit of hysteria but part of my cramming studying today was focused on attatchment styles and it was super easy for me to link these to the outsiders so here you go (Im sleep deprived and a psych nerd so this might get rambly and chaotic and hard to follow and LONG- you have been warned)

Ok SO first a shit ton of background info because I love psych. Basically there was this experiment conducted by this psychologist lady Mary Ainsworth and her goal was to measure and catalogue attatchment in infants so she set up this 'strange situation' experiment which (coles notes version) basically involved babies and their mothers being in a room and then leaving the kid alone with a stranger, mom returning, and then leaving the baby completely alone in the room, and they looked at all sorts of behaviour in these babies, things like levels of distress, whether they engaged with the stranger in the presence of their mom vs when they were alone, but the main thing they were interested in were the babies reactions upon being reunited with mom. Ainsworth observed 3 trends in babies and grouped them based on their behaviour.

Group A - babies who didn’t care if they were left with a stranger, and were uninterested in reunion with their mothers. A1 was babies with no interest with their mother, A2 was babies with slight interest in their mom and a desire to stay away from them

Group B—babies who may or may not have been distressed at separation, but were happy to be reunited with their mothers. B1 was babies not distressed at separation and slight interest at reunion, B2 was babies who were mildly distressed at separation, and approached caregiver at reunion, B3 was babies who were mildly distressed at separation and actively sought contact at reunion.

Group C – babies whose behaviour was not consistent at reunion (sometimes would engage with caregivers and then immediately run away). C1 was babies who were very distressed at separation, and C2 was babies who were very passive and did not respond at all to separation

*Note: mild distress would be whimpering and crying, very distressed would be like screaming and beating the ground with their fists kinda thing*

A N Y W A Y here's when things get interesting IMHO because these behavioural trends are the basis of our attachment styles

Group A babies have what's called an Anxious-Avoidant (also sometimes known as Dismissive) attachment style to their caregivers- these babies don't know if their caregiver will be retuning and they don't expect to be reunited. Parents of babies with this kind of attatchment style are visibly unhappy to be with their offspring and their resentment/displeasure is clear enough that babies as young as a few months old can pick up on it. Approximately 20% of babies fit this attatchment style

Group B babies have what's known as a secure attatchment style. They're your run of the mill happy babies, and their needs are met consistently enough by their caregiver that when their caregivers are out of sight, not only do they expect a reunion, they're happy to be reunited. This is most likely due to the aforementioned consistent care. A lucky 80% of babies fit this attatchment style.

Finally we have our Group C babies, who have an Anxious Ambivalent attachment style. Babies in this group have conflicting emotions to being left alone. (some babies might be screaming when the caregiver leaves, others are so apathetic as to have been considered unbothered by researchers). Babies with this attatchment style usually have caregivers who are unresponsive to their needs. These are babies who are abused or neglected, who have no sense of security or routine. apprximately 10% of babies fit this attatchment style.

*Also important to note that babies can have different attatchment styles with different people.*

ANYWAY so while I was studying earlier I sorted the outsiders characters based on what kind of attachment style I think they'd have as babies (fun fact- you often carry your initial attachment style with you throughout your life unless you consciously work to fix it)

Goup A (Anxious-Avoidant)- Steve & Tim Shepard

-Steve's mom split and we know his dad routinely kicks him out even though it isn't usually permanent. To me, it makes sense that his parents would do the bare minimum to make sure he was decently ok as a kid, but their resentment would be clear that even toddler steve could pick up on it. Thus we get sullen little Steve, who avoids or is indifferent to being left in a playpen by himself, and doesn't care when he is eventually picked up

-I like to think Tim Shepard's ma was a little different when he was a baby than when Curly and Angela were born, and while I don't think she was ever a great mom I think she might have given it a go, even though she wasn't the most attentive and was bitter about having him. Thus, Tim becomes another dismissive baby, who doesn't notice or care when he's left to his own devices

Group B (Secure) - The Curtis boys, Two-bit Matthews, Dallas Winston (to his mom)

-We know from the book the Curtis kids had a happy childhood, and that Two-bit's mom is lovely even though she works a lot. thus, we get healthy secure attatchments for these boys

-I like the headcannon Dally had a happy(ish) childhood and was a total mama's boy when his mom was still alive so I think he'd form a secure attachment to her at least.

Group C (Anxious-Ambivalent)- Curly & Angela Shepard, Johnny Cade, Dallas Winston (to his dad)

-This one involves little explanation. I think Curly and Angela (who I hc as twins) were definitely oops babies and by then the Shepards ma was too far into alcoholism and hatred to even attempt to parent, thus Angela and Curly never got used to her being around so the didn't notice when she wasn't. (The securest attatchment they formed was to Tim.)

-Johnny very clearly wouldn't form an attachment to either parent though I could see him being the type who's confused, especially when he was young, because I don't think the Cades were 100% horrible from day one. I think as a baby he would have never known if he was gonna get a cuddle or a kick, so he'd be the baby screaming when left alone, then running up to his parents and away when they came back to whatever room they'd left him in. Lots of turmoil and confusion poor thing, leading to the anxious-ambivalent attatchment

-We know Dally didn't like his dad, so I think an anxious ambivalent attachment, one characterized with a baby dally not noticing or caring when his father is around or when he leaves or returns to be the most likely of the attachment styles for him (i hc he was indifferent to him until dally got a bit older and mouthier and thats when the physical abuse started).

ANYWAY sorry this was so long I'm just a psych nerd who psychoanalyzes fictional characters for fun. If you actually read to the end of this bullshit you're a real one fr.

[presidentbungus]

you wanna do a sniperspy snippet for me...for little ol me......?

always 🥺

ao3

Sniper's not a huge fan of the weather at this new base--they're somewhere in the Northern US, and he wasn't exactly bred for temperatures below twenty-five, but he finds it's worth braving the perpetual moistness for the new base itself.

It's a drab, rickety old building, just like the lot of them, except this time it's built out of rotting wood that someone puts a new hole in just by walking four times a week. But--but, it's an abandoned factory, aged out of utility for that purpose, and old buildings like this are full of nooks and crannies.

Sniper is some kind of burrowing animal at heart and small spaces have always been a favourite of his, so this is an arrangement that works out well for him. It's something besides sitting in his van playing jazz and thinking about his guns, even if it is sitting in a small dusty room in silence thinking about his guns—and no one really cares for exploring so it's usually a safe bet he'll be left alone.

Usually.

The good thing is that the stairs leading up to this particular room, fulla dusty tables with a nice look out into leaves and just about nothing else, act as a built-in intruder alarm with how creaky the stairs are. The bad news is that right now someone is thundering up those bloody stairs and he's in the middle of making great progress knitting himself a scarf.

It's not exactly Scout who he expects to see turn the corner--mostly because he's usually a lot quieter, has this tendency of sneaking up on people, and Sniper coulda sworn he just heard him calling points, or, laps or... is pitches a baseball thing? Somewhere outside.

But the little bugger is fast enough to make that plausible and more importantly looks like he wants something. "Hey... Snipes."

No harm in starting this off with a nice, round, "I'm busy."

"... Sunshine 'n rainbows," Scout mutters. Then he sees the knitting needles in Sniper's hands--a hideous smirk stretches across his face. "You fast-trackin' your grandma career already? Heh."

Scout brought a smell with him into the room. Something dark, and smoky, that settles itself in Sniper's chest. It's so intensely familiar but he can't quite place it. "What do you want?"

“What, is this weird? Something wrong, big guy?” And Scout gets a lot closer, wringing his hands together in a way he distinctly doesn’t do—

Metal flashes in Scout’s hand—Sniper grabs his wrist with unexpected ease and takes out his own blade, and his kukri glides into Scout’s stomach like a nice hot knife through butter. He lets out a high, pinched wheeze, though the lopsided grin keeps spreading across his face--as the shitty cotton crumpled under his fingers ripples into pinstripes, and the hand on his bicep morphs into smooth black leather.

"Maybe it'd do ya some bloody good to stop wearing that cologne," Sniper mutters. He steps away as much as he can with half his weapon sticking outta Spy--the closeness makes him dizzier than he'd like to admit, the smell of smoke and whiskey.

Spy just wordlessly clutches Sniper like any of this still hurts at this point in their jobs, and a thin line of blood starts trailing out between his teeth.

He already knew it, but the confirmation of it annoys him. "You wanted to get caught," Sniper says, grimly—through what would be a carefully-crafted facade of ambivalence to anyone else, but he knows Spy can look straight through him, read him like a bloody book, so he keeps on pushing the knife through his stomach until he can see the tip come out on the other side, glistening crimson.

Spy coughs for a little while before he seems to be able to work up the breath to respond. "You are not a very good host, are you?"

"Figure there's a bit of a difference between a guest and a bloody intruder, mate."

There's blood all over Sniper's shirt. Oh well. "The fact that you are yet to kill me indicates you are unsure where that line lies…” His eyes flick up teasingly. “Mon ami."

And the right thing to do after that, the professional thing to do, is to pull his kukri out and then shove it into Spy's face until he can't tell the difference between brain and gristle, but he still just keeps standing there with their faces way too close for comfort, frozen to his spot.

Spy notices his hesitation, of course he does. And somehow his smile keeps twitching wider, even as the rest of his face knits itself together with the effort of standing. "You seem to have made your decision."

"Do you have anything to do besides..." He doesn't want to find the word. "This?"

"Dinner," Spy says quickly. "Ah, picnics... weekends away..." He glances up at Sniper long enough to imply, and teasingly: "But no, nothing I can do alone."

"What about sitting here and bleeding out while I go find someone better to talk to?"

"But who is better to talk to," Spy gurgles, "than the man you spend all day on the battlefield ogling through your scope?"

He can't stop the blush from crawling across his face. "Not—ogling is a—I'm just doin' my job."

"And I am very much not doing mine. All I ask is one night." Then that hand shifts over to his chest, trails up to his neck.

"You have a motive you’re not giving here." They both know this isn't true. Sniper already knows he's going to leave this room having promised something he's not entirely sure about, but there's no point in dropping the charade just yet.

"Do you want me to beg, monsieur?" He must not respond quick enough, because he follows right away: "You have no perception of how dire the romantic prospects stand on my team, and you are, regrettably… so very handsome.” Smart fingers pass all the way up his cheek, dip just under the collar of his shirt, like there isn’t a knife in his stomach. “And I know there is something about me that attracts you, and you seem to be completely unwilling to cross the distance on your own, and I will refuse to continue standing for it." Spy pauses for a second to spit the blood out of his mouth and then turns back to Sniper and grins. "Kiss me."

That's the first thing he's said all day that actually makes sense. The next few seconds is a blur; thankfully there's enough blood in both of their mouths that covers up the fact that Sniper has no idea what he's doing and Spy very much does.

At some point Spy's legs buckle and he hits the floor with a loud thump--Sniper doesn't go with him, really takes him a couple of seconds of standing and blinking to figure out what just happened to him, and finally, finally, the image of Spy laying on the ground and choking on his own blood reminds Sniper that he is currently being paid to do a job.

The sound of him pulling his rifle off his back doesn't seem to perturb Spy at all; in fact, his smile still defies physics and finds room to grow, even as he writhes in the ground out of... what can't really be called pain anymore, but instinct.

With a gun-barrel resting on his forehead all Spy does is raise his hand and say: "I will see you on Friday. Shower."

All Sniper can find to say to that is "I shower," but that's muttered in the middle of the gunshot and at that point it's a losing fight. He knows Spy's just getting on his nerves. That's all the bugger does.

Arsehole didn't even bother to confirm that Sniper had any interest in seeing him, but... Sniper knows, with a heavy dose of shame, he probably implied the answer well enough on his own. Piss.

[maudlin-scribbler]

About me/pinned post since I figure I should try to do one at this point and HOPEFULLY keep it pinned

Hi I'm Corin...or Coryn or or Cory or Cory Lee (calling me any variation of the name Corinne is fine really) and I'm 18 years old, and I've had this blog since I was 13 (oh god.). I use any pronouns.

This blog is a mix of fandom and personal stuff, I like to bitch and complain about pretty much everything, even things I like. and i have so many opinions about so many things.

I'm friendly, I like talking about my interests and you can always shoot me an ask or even dm I guess(I YEARN FOR ASKS!! hell you can even send stuff about ask games i haven't even reblogged).I'm also really awkward so expect me to talk like this is my first day on earth and I've never interacted with anyone before HAHA. I also write and draw once in a blue moon.

my sideblogs are:

-> @trembling-amber where I post about fallen london and my fl OCs (read this post (not made by me) about fallen london if you want to know more about it)

-> @korinna-of-tanagra where I post about classics, history, archaeology, (mostly greek) mythology, religion, folklore, that kinda thing. history and mythology are some of my special interests for real.

I have a lot of interests and fixations(which remain dear to my hear even when I'm not currently fixating on them), my current ones being house md(yeah.) and the invisible man!!! and so many other things!!!

(the invisible man is a book that's very dear to me ever since i was 13, griffin is kind of my foremost blorbo at this point). I post about it under the #invisible tomfoolery posting and griffin core tags for blocking purposes (i also do kind of like gothic lit in general)

rn i post about house md under the #medical malpractice tag and under the general house md tag.

facts about myself I'm happy to share!

-> I'm somewhere on the aroace spectrum and also bisexual.

-> i'm transgender...or am i? my feelings on my gender are complicated and not static. in the past i've identified as greygender and I do feel that my gender is...fluid? but i'm ambivalent about it most of the time. think of me as schroedinger's transgender lmao (i know what the term usually means haha)

-> I am romanian! I am also a romanian of greek descent and it's something that sort of does make me proud, I don't really speak the greek lamguage besides a few words but I do want to learn it in the future.

-> I speak romanian and english (obviously), theoretically I am learnimg french and I am trying to get my head to agree with the idea of learning italian lol

-> i post art and writing under the #my scribbles tag

-> the maudlin scribbler is me, i am him.

-> i have OCs and ideas for original stories I might do something with one day, maybe, eventually. HOPEFULLY

-> i LOVE space and astronomy

-> maybe i'll write more here, i dunno. this still feels like kind of a work in progress.