#cherry lyric analysis

[rachthepoet]

Cherry Analysis 🍒

Chérry, the catalyst. Harry's prettiest baby she is, but concurrently catalytic — for the backing voice peppers the track like the low-hanging fruit of a cherry tree, and the harvested details amp the appetite to indulge in the Fine Line album. And, we've only hit the surface of this piece's mastery, too often overlooked due to its divisive ending, which is tragic. The song's title not only builds on the artist's evergrowing fruit charcuterie but is ridiculously close to the French translation for my dearest and/or my baby, ma Chérie — connecting the plea we hear him beg perpetually.

Harry's prettiest baby. A painting of vulnerability, humanity, and storytelling. It's that tapestry of memories — though messy and imperfect from certain corners of the exhibit hall — that one can't stop themselves from luxuriating in. Even as it causes nothing but agony to experience devastating heartbreak all over again. It's a heart song, the type of song that people feel in their hearts before even making it to the end. The pain of still being in love with someone who's already moved on, and stuck watching them be their best with another. Masking the pain in feeble attempts, but unraveling as it comes out in bursts unwarned.

Here's a deep dive into Harry Styles' Cherry, from a poet. And one of my favorites to praise. Below Sunflower, though. Of course.🍒

Rhymes, Patsy Cline, & Word to the Wise

Oh boy, you get to have fun with the poet today! Because first things first, let's talk rhyme schemes — such an essential pillar in the structure of this piece, that far too many don't appreciate. Or, maybe they just don't see it like the poets do — but, that's why I'll explain it all, detail by little detail. Further down, in the ever-notable LYRIC PULL APART section, there's some color coding going on. I personally have always found it easier to understand and identify rhymes visually — and making it clear and visible to you is so important. It seems like something relatively simple to an untrained eye, but, you see, that's the catch in it all — it's a way of speaking without directly speaking, as in the piece he tries to suppress feelings while pain, jealousy, and heartbreak bubble under the surface.

Note that the chorus' rhyme scheme remains consistent, like a control group, an anchor to keep him stable on the ground. This coincides with the language in the chorus being straightforward, while the verses can be less cohesive, allowing room for the writer to play around in his storytelling. This is where the consuming emotions are bubbling under his surface, which mirrors how, as the verses move along, the rhyme scheme gets weaker (more conversational, more casual, more messy) in contrast. Naturally, as we hit each part of the song, I'll give you greater detail, but I wanted to offer some summarization to warm you up to the idea. Yeah?

For a long while, Cherry has had this association in my mind with Patsy Cline's She's Got You. Cline's song is about a woman yearning and mourning over a lost love by looking back through old photographs and possessions that remind her of what's been lost. The drastically too short piece is a lament about how someone else has the love she lost or the love she let go, and all that remains are these small things and small memories. I believe Harry's piece — especially amplified in the chorus — holds a similar sentiment and story. However, Cherry seems adamant about focusing on just one little thing that meant so much to him — the nickname: dearest, baby, chérie. He selfishly wants to keep this exclusive to himself all while watching the other give their love to someone else. He doesn't want to lose it like he lost them. Both of these pieces are framed and executed eloquently, and I adore them both, so maybe it's only natural for me to draw a connecting line — but I wanted to mention it anyhow.

And, lastly, a word to the wise. I know this piece to be one of Harry's that gets caught in discourse routinely, whether there's those name-dropping or others' encroaching nature with theorizations. Here's a gentle reminder that we will not engage in that nature here. Given, that the principle I'm about to discuss applies to every song I analyze from Harry's collection and beyond, but, for some reason, it felt extra fitting to say it here especially.

A fundamental rule of songs and their accompanying analyses is that songs are practically never about anyone other than the songwriter and/or the speaker. Sure, other people might be included as a vehicle to conceptualize feelings, ideas, or experiences to add more detail — but it's never solely about the other. Think about it this way — when one's watching musical theater, a character onstage will be singing about a character offstage, but the audience's focus is on the character onstage amid their monologue. Even though the character is singing about someone else, the subject is not in view, so your focus shouldn't be on the other.

Once one comes to this realization, seeing this song without a clouded lens, the experience becomes much more nuanced. Bringing it back in, the big picture of Cherry is an internal struggle — and the storyline just supports the big picture, all the little details that inject life into it. Little supportive pillows uplift the core idea. It's not about the ex-lover in question, and not about the action, but, rather, it's about the writer's reaction! Get it? Good! :)

Lyric Pull Apart

[INTRO] Coucou

A hello to the listeners — looking into the translation, multiple possibilities come up, but given the context, I'm sticking to the intention of a greeting. Coucou leans more toward an informal greeting, between those familiar, which helps solidify an existing relationship between our speaker and the haunting voice present behind him. This voice is intrusive, following him throughout, as he's using the song as a processing stage. Attempting to push down and drown his feelings about the situation. This conclusion can also be discovered in how Cherry has a conflicting feel to its instrumentals — happy and sad together, at once. Could even go forth and say "balancing on a fine line", eh? Representative of the conflict present in the speaker himself, but gosh, I'm just getting too ahead of myself now. Gotta leave you something to discover, don't I?

[CHORUS] Don't you call him baby We're not talking lately Don't call him what you used to call me

As mentioned prior, the color indicates a rhyme scheme, and the chorus rhyme scheme will remain consistent. A control group, an anchor to keep him stable on the ground. But, now let's grant a deeper perspective into that. The repetition of the chorus, of this controlled rhyme scheme, is a way of the speaker trying to pull himself back from his own disaster. Trying to calm himself and keep a hold of his emotions as they bubble — the constant battle of these emotions to push to the frontlines is executed in the verses, and their differing rhyme schemes.

[VERSE 1] I, I confess I can tell that you are at your best I'm selfish so I'm hating it I noticed that There's a piece of you in how I dress Take it as a compliment

The first half of the verse holds strong to its rhyme structure, as listeners witness a moment more petty than pathetic through words. Sure, the speaker's not happy, far from it, but refuses to admit (directly) that he's missing them. The rhyme structure in the first half is stronger & more routine in comparison to the second half, resembling the speaker holding himself together more. Best and Confess (green) share the "es" sound, the main rhyme, with Tell That and Selfish (purple) sharing an "el" sound, the supporting rhyme. The purple emphasizes the green!

I, I confess / I can tell that you are at your best: The realization that someone you cared about so deeply is now at their best with someone who isn't you. A confession to oneself about the realization, and letting it hit right in the heart and the pit of the stomach. This line really hurts to me. Lyrically, a relatively simple line. But meaning? Surpasses. And this supports my notion that Cherry is focused on an internal battle rather than the person he's referencing.

I'm selfish so I'm hating it: This admittance is another piece in speaking to one's own internal structure and echoes 2017's Woman where he also admitted his jealous tendencies, and being selfish in said jealousy. Once more, we as listeners have found ourselves as spectators to the speaker's internal battle about the hurt he's experiencing time and time again.

The second half of the verse is when some unraveling occurs, coinciding with the admission of how much of an impact the other has had on him. The existing rhyme scheme continues with the "es" sound (green), with Noticed and Dress, creating a flow from one feeling to the next. Then, there's a playing rhyme that starts at the end of the second line, emphasizing the "et" sound in It and Compliment (blue) — but, the rhyme is interrupted subtly by the n. This mimics the speaker's feelings as both he and the rhyme begin to crack. In addition, the secondary rhyme (purple) is lost, creating a weaker structure than previously.

I noticed that / There's a piece of you in how I dress: There's an eloquence to this line, and I often struggle to put into words just how deep my admiration goes for it — guess I'll start with how I love when scenes are painted with lyrics. Like, you can picture so much within one singular line. Whether an accessory or piece of clothing they left at his house. Whether it's watching one's style soon melt into one's significant other's. Whether — delving into the more abstract — getting dressed in his normal routine and there are still pieces of them in every step. And, to take it further in the symbolic and abstract direction, one can even spark up a debate on how the way one dresses connects to identity — therefore, he's speaking of how there are still pieces of them left in himself.

Take it as a compliment: Naturally, this is a complimenting line to the lyric that precedes it. Take it as a compliment that I'm thinking of you still, which comes off sweet with a lingering tingle of that pettiness rooted in pain. Which — naturally, I'm going to keep reminding — coincides with the rhyme structure, with Compliment being the one to alter the rhyme (blue) [subtly]. And, with that being the case, the "I'm so happy you're so happy" façade is slipping down to reveal the truth as the internal struggle peaks to the exterior.

[CHORUS] Don't you call him baby We're not talking lately Don't call him what you used to call me

A return to the chorus, the control rhyme scheme, the centering point. An anchor. With the first iteration of the chorus, I focused on the rhyme scheme, so in this second iteration, let's dive into the words said themselves.

Don't you call him baby: Lovers call each other baby. The realization hits now, how the other person is out and happy with someone else. The realization hits now, how deeply he doesn't want to share this one thing he can still grasp onto from what they had before. It's a moment of selfishness, childishness, and a moment of not wanting to share what meant the most to him. The intimacy. And, in addition, as mentioned previously, the French word for dearest and/or baby is chérie, which is artistically simplified into what we know as Cherry.

We're not talking lately: An admission to himself, within his internal struggle. A realization they haven't been connecting as they had once before, and they're both at fault for that. However, in the tone, it feels like the speaker is placing the blame on himself a little more, as I have interpreted it. In whatever way one hears it, the mentality of blame shifts as the listener travels deeper into the album, to To Be So Lonely, but that's just a little teaser there.

Don't call him what you used to call me: A lyric connected to the first line, emphasizing a plea, asking them not to bestow upon their new love the terms of endearment that were once reserved for him. And, there's a constant circle back to this, which indicates a central motif. And, further revealing — pulling back the façade — the speaker's difficulty in accepting his ex-lover finding comfort in someone else's arms. 

[VERSE 2] I, I just miss I just miss your accent and your friends Did you know I still talk to them?

The second verse's shift is a dramatic one. Something in the air feels different after the second iteration of the chorus has rounded. There's no more beating around the bush, or hiding behind a fake happiness for this person who's moved on — things are now being laid out on the table. And, there's almost a little petulance to it that's very complementary to the song, with a taunting sound to it.

I, I just miss / I just miss your accent and your friends: Now he admits to missing them, and admits that there's something to miss in his life now that they've parted ways. But, it's always in the details, you know? The things you'll hold onto. Your accent. Friends they bonded with together, or your friends to which they introduced him. There are assumptions of carrying out the rhyme scheme that preceded it, with the "es" sound (green). In the first verse, we had Confessed, Best, Noticed, and Dress. Now, in the second verse, the expectation is for Miss and Friends to follow suit. However, that's not the case — the rhyme has drifted away from the "es" sound. Miss is overpowered by the vowel change, and Friends is interrupted by nd. Once more, we're met with rhyme structures falling apart subtly, which only supports the big picture of the song, as the speaker crumbles and loses his poker face.

Did you know I still talk to them?: I love how I've always heard this line, like a child taunting. Almost a bit like... hmm, how can I describe it? Like, you can't take them away from me. Like you took everything else. It's just another added aspect to what he's going through, the feelings experienced, and the overarching internal struggle present. Rather than continue to hold it all in, he wrote a song about it. A beautiful one, at that.

[BRIDGE] Does he take you walkin' round his parents' gallery?

Oh, this bridge. How I adore it.

In the bridge, stylistically, the taunting note is held tightly, but there's a return to the rhyme scheme of the chorus. The controlled structure, the anchoring point to bring the speaker back from an emotional overwhelm (as categorized by the rhyme scheme crumbling in the verses). On a surface level, the lyric seems so simplistic, and will frankly remain so if one refuses to look into the details. I believe it carries a lot of weight, especially within the context of Cherry's storytelling. Even though the line is directed at someone outside the speaker — and one can just picture it said in a heckling whine — it's more telling of that internal struggle over anything. That big picture of Cherry to keep returning to.

Throughout Cherry, as listeners and spectators, we are experiencing and investing in the emotions the speaker must work through in the song's duration (and continued throughout the album, naturally). He's not only admitting to that post-breakup stage that everybody goes through but pretends that they don't — the bitterness that lingers like a cherry that's turned — but he really wrote a whole fucking song about it. He's sinking into the turmoil of this, into the pettiness, admitting that he is not free from this overwhelming bitterness and envy of an ex-lover who could be happy without you. And, something that rings true in the FINE LINE album as a whole, it's a song where we witness the (coping) method of capturing such an unpleasant feeling and transforming it into something lovely through the love language of music. For himself more than anybody else.

[CHORUS] Don't you call him baby We're not talking lately Don't call him what you used to call me Don't you call him baby (Coucou) We're not talking lately Don't call him what you used to call me (Coucou)

Here we find ourselves again, back to the stabilizing rhyme scheme of the chorus. With the bridge returning to this standard of rhyme, it flows beautifully in the ear, but there's a symbolic/metaphoric factor in play. He's not trying to hide it anymore, he's allowing himself to embrace his bitterness, his green face of envy at seeing someone he cared deeply about move on with their life without him in it. And, in companionship with the bridge, the direct address to his lover's new partner is poignant and continues the pattern of the chorus' language being more straightforward.

[OUTRO] "Coucou! Tu dors? Oh, j'suis désolée��� Bah non… Non, c'est pas important… Ouais, on a été à la plage, et maintenant on— Parfait! Allez!"

Okay, here we go. The ever-controversial voice note. If you aren't going to indulge in this section of Cherry's analysis with an open mind and heart — no clouded lenses — you can feel free to skip over, but I really invite you, genuinely, to remain and hear me out. Personally, I like it, love it even, and don't understand the relentless arguing that seems to fester from it. It's most important to bring in the context for full appreciation. And, to me, we discover that in the screams preceding the addition.

The final choruses are interspersed with this voice, her voice, alongside his screams. Pay attention to the screams, and each one is a reaction to the sound of her voice, always in this intrusive manner. This inclusion of the voice from the very beginning of the song and throughout serves as a subtle foreshadowing of where we stand now, the voice note. But, I digress — this series of screams, and the final, most agonizing scream is in response to silence. This lover he's been hung up on, the one he's agonizing over for moving on without him, is gone from him. And that idea hurts more than all else. Through the pettiness and anger we witness, there's also an underlying sadness, and it pushes to the foreground in those screams.

Then, in comes the voice note, echoing, very neutral, can be from any day — it's the final memory he's holding onto. All he has left, even the music — representative of his Hail Mary coping attempt — fades. He can't bring himself to get rid of it, so much so that he decides that a song composed from this inner turmoil couldn't be complete without it included. My interpretation? It's like not wanting to delete/remove the few reminders you have left of a person, even if they bring you pain to see them. In that final scream — that scream to the void of silence where there used to be something — he scrambles for a single memory, to let himself wallow rather than be stagnant in silence he never heard so quiet before. But, his wallowing is now compromised with catharsis. And, in all this, that is the beauty of Cherry. Harry's prettiest baby.

Thank you for reading, you’re absolutely incredible! If there are any songs you’d like me to make an analysis of, please send your request to my inbox! along with any questions or insights you might have yourself!

[betweenlands]

i am so deeply emotional about sbk right now. how the hell does a server this good exist

[belamusica]

Hozier's Cherry Wine: Lyric Analysis

⚠️Trigger Warning: Mentions of domestic abuse ⚠️

'Cherry Wine' is a beautiful track that confronts the complexities of an abusive relationship and captures its pain, struggle, and vulnerability. Through Hozier's lyrics, one can feel the conflicting emotions you would typically identify in an abusive relationship alongside the tender and intimate moments that exist in small moments together. Hozier rejoices in the loving moments of the relationship throughout the song, making the relationship seem perfect and ideal, but also paints the abuse to seem worth it throughout it all. However, it is only a tiny part of their relationship. In theory, the title is 'Cherry Wine' because of the stain that wine leaves. Like abuse in relationships, stains are hard to remove and leave imprints on the victim's mind. 'Cherry Wine' lyrics are layered, identical to the naming of the song. Or it could be a metaphor, as cherry wine represents an abusive relationship's intoxicating and all-consuming nature. It appears sweet and enticing but can be intoxicating and harmful.

"Her eyes and words are so icy.

Oh but she burns.

Like rum on the fire

Hot and fast and angry as she can be.

I walk my days on a wire."

This first line highlights the theme of contrast and duality in 'Cherry Wine' and many others of Hozier's work. Ice juxtaposed with fire in the same line suggests the woman's ability to be kind and cruel. As the song progresses, it is implied that the narrator is enchanted and repelled by her confusingly contrasted qualities. This confuses the listeners about the lover's true nature – is she cold, or does she have warmth? This confusion is intentional, as the audience and the singer are facing the same confusion about the true nature of his lover. She is unpredictable; she can get angry and sometimes irrational. The whiplash of the various emotions gives the singer no room to know how to react or behave. He is walking on a wire – cautious of his words and hyper-aware of his actions.

"It looks ugly, but it's clean.

Oh, momma, don't fuss over me."

The relationship may look bad or ugly to the outside eye, but it's pure and clean to him, and he's happy to be in it. He's glad to be with her. This may also refer to the bruise/cut/wound his abusive lover left behind. His mom sees it and fusses over him, but he downplays the abuse's seriousness and says it only looks terrible. He understands that his relationship is dysfunctional but is in denial because he is firmly attached to it. When he begs his mother not to draw attention to his injuries, this implies a masculinity issue and the natural urge many men have not to show weakness and pretend that they are fine despite an enormous emotional struggle. This idea of masculinity underpins many of the song's messages. Hozier perhaps criticizes society's expectation upon men to "take things on the chin" and pretend to be unaffected by emotional and physical pain, something commonly regarded as a "feminine" quality to be avoided. The fear of appearing weak may be why the singer continues to be with his partner.

"The way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine

Open hand or closed fist would be fine.

The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine."

The chorus feels like a love song, soft and tender. But as it continues, there are hints of abuse and force. The relative emphasis of "I'm hers" and "She is mine" in the melody reflects the imbalance in the relationship. Her possession of him is strong, overbearing, and prominent. Still, the reciprocal dynamic is present almost as a formality only, as the phrase "she is mine" is quiet almost to a whisper. 

Hozier's choice of words like 'closed fist' may indicate that there might be instances of violence. In the last line of the chorus, the blood and cherry wine are used as similes, which creates a juxtaposition emphasizing the horrible yet wonderful relationship. Furthermore, when drinking cherry wine, you may quickly become drunk without realizing it because it tastes good. Similarly, the relationship is intoxicating and almost addictive, but he doesn't recognize the treacherousness of it because she makes him feel so good.

"Calls of guilty thrown at me

All while she stain,

The sheets of some other."

One can interpret this line as the narrator's lover accusing him of infidelity, even as she is the philanderer herself, a classic behavior of the insecure cheater. "Calls of guilty" might also refer to 'blaming the victim' and can indicate that the lover holds the singer responsible for everything. He uses words like "thrown at me," which strengthens the claims of abuse. The description of the lover staining "the sheets of some other" is a fairly explicit sexual reference to her non-monogamy, despite her telling him she's his and he's hers. This could also be furthering the cherry wine metaphor. Once you spill wine on sheets, it cannot be cleaned easily and leaves a stain. This girl, like wine, will mess up your life, and once she enters your life, you cannot easily get rid of her. 

"Thrown at me so powerfully.

Just like she throws with the arm of her brother."

To "have an arm" means to throw a ball well in sports, specifically baseball or football, where throwing to another player is paramount. This indicates how she may "throw punches" at him. She is abusive towards him and abuses him through critique and insults, making him feel incredibly guilty, as if he is the one who brings out these wrong sides of her. He feels inferior to her even though she is physically smaller and weaker. Her words only hurt him mentally, but they are so toxic he feels physically weak after she throws a tantrum at him.

"But I want it.

It's a crime.

That she's not around most of the time."

The pre-chorus also reveals the singer's anxious attachment issues to the situation. 'Cherry Wine' lyrics must be understood from the toxicity of love shown and felt. The singer, aware of his lover's actions, still misses her. He thinks the actual crime is that she is not always around him. The singer is blind to her behavior behind his love for her. He focuses on the warmth of his lover's actions and ignores her icy behavior. He craves those parts of his lover - even if she is hurting him. Another possible meaning is that how she mistreats and neglects him is unfair, considering how much he loves her. Furthermore, her not being around most of the time also alludes to her infidelity and affairs.

"The way she shows me I'm hers and she is mine

Open hand or closed fist would be fine.

Blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine."

This line is the heart and soul behind the song. He is powerless over her; she treats him like he is property. "The way she shows him" refers to her physical abuse or her need to satisfy herself sexually whenever she wants to. "Open hand or closed fist" may refer to physical abuse where an open hand would mean a slap and a closed hand would mean a punch. It may also have a deeper meaning where an open hand in the relationship could be a day where she wants to let him in and love him softly, but the closed fist is her rejection or her anger ready to be unleashed upon him when she is upset. He minimizes the blood drawing and takes it even further to say it's sweet. He believes the abuse is a form of her love; though less graceful and soft, it's still intoxicating.

"Her fight and fury is fiery.

Oh but she loves.

Like sleep to the freezing

Sweet and right and merciful

I'm all but washed.

In the tide of her breathing."

In this verse, the singer praises his lover. Unable to look past his love for her, he begins to praise the erratic parts of her. He has accepted the nature of who she is and loves her – even the bad parts. Hozier explained the line "she looks like sleep to the freezing," stating that the idea is that if someone who is freezing falls asleep, it will likely kill them, but to them, sleep looks very attractive because it is a relief of their suffering. So, although she is dangerous and will probably be the end of him, he is too tired to resist it. Abuse breaks down your mental state, and he has embraced it now. Like many victims of abuse, the singer cannot differentiate between love and what is not. Violence is not love, but conveying this to the other person is challenging. The toxic, addictive love blinds them. 

"And it's worth it, it's divine.

I have this some of the time."

It's these rare moments that keep him with her. Yes, he does feel that her anger and fury push him away, but he knows it will pass in time, and she will embody the woman he loves and cherishes. And that's who she is some of the time. The bitter times in between allow the times they are together to be much sweeter. Her love being "divine" is a double entendre, referring to it being delightful, pleasing, and divine in the Godlike sense.

This song illustrates the toxicity between two lovers whose behaviors are excused and described so beautifully through the eyes of the victim. The choice of words used in the song is purposefully made to sound like pure love despite the sinister mistreatment behind it. The lyrics behind 'Cherry Wine' are layered with two contrasting sides - the abuse in the relationship and the victim's thought process. Through 'Cherry Wine,' Hozier conveyed the message of how love can be manipulated, and many victims of domestic abuse stay silent, thinking that the violence they experience is part of love. This song is breathtaking and poetic. 'Cherry Wine' gives a voice to those who struggle to convey their side of the story verbally. I have a difficult time articulating how I feel. Putting my emotions on paper and sharing them with others was never something I was comfortable doing, even as a child. Sharing how I felt almost felt like a burden I was placing on others, and it was easier to keep things to myself. I appreciate Hozier for his solidarity and for giving a voice to victims of domestic abuse. 

Disclaimer: The picture was taken off of Pinterest. All credit goes to the owner.

[aspoonofsugar]

do you think the song out for love says something about Camilla and veggie and to veggies character arc

Hi!

Yes, it does. I want to talk about Vaggie in other metas too, so in this analysis I will focus on her relationship with Carmilla, since this is what you are mainly asking about.

Before I start, though, I am gonna link to you this meta by @hamliet, where she talks about the main message of the song:

You're gonna fight without gloves And when that push comes to shove Yeah, you just might rise above Long as you're out for love

If you love, you might rise above. So Vaggie, a fallen angel, regrows her wings by choosing love and protection over hate and revenge. The meaning is crystal clear. Love makes you worthy of Heaven. Just like in the finale Pentious ascends thanks to his selfless sacrifice.

This is the meaning of the song when it comes to theme and to the series as a whole.

At the same time it is not by chance this theme comes out so strongly in relation to Carmilla and Vaggie, as they are both tied to "love".

FAMILIAL LOVE AND ROMANTIC LOVE

Carmilla Carmine: So I, I'll be your keeper Do whatever it takes, I'll make the mistakes I'll keep you safe and keep this secret

Vaggie: So I, I'll be your armor Do whatever it takes, I'll make the mistakes I'll spend my life being your partner

Carmilla and Vaggie are set up as foils in episode 3, when they share the song Whatever It Takes. This ballad is a love song, but Carmilla and Vaggie express two different kinds of love:

Carmilla is singing to her daughters (familial)

Vaggie is singing to Charlie (romantic)

This is a pattern throughout the show:

There are two versions of More Than Anything - the first one is about a familial bond, whereas the second explores a romantic relationship

Sir Pentious gets redeemed after expressing his feelings for Cherri (romantic) and sacrificing himself for the Hotel Crew (familial)

So, Hazbin Hotel goes out of its way to celebrate all kinds of positive bonds: platonic, romantic, familial. All of these relationships are enriching and help people grow. Vaggie and Carmilla are two characters linked to this very concept, as they are ready to fight and suffer for their loved ones:

Both: Whatever we go through I know I~ (Carmilla: I'll be your keeper) (Vaggie: I'll be your armor) Whatever it takes (Carmilla: I'll make the mistakes) (Vaggie: I'll make the mistakes) Whatever it takes

They are both warriors, but fight for love. They are out for love. However, Whatever It Takes also highlights a major difference between them.

TRUST AND SELF-EXPRESSION

Scrambled Eggs is an episode about trust. This is true especially for Carmilla and Vaggie, who have opposite secrets:

Carmilla killed an angel

Vaggie is an angel

Throughout the song the conflict between Heaven and Hell is mentioned by Carmilla and is present in subtext in Vaggie's stanza, as she looks at her old home.

Both are struggling under the pressure of these truths and are confronted by a loved one:

Zestial: Carmilla, what troubles thou? Losing thy composure is unlike thee. Carmilla Carmine: It's nothing, Zestial, really.

Charlie: Vaggie, don't say that! You do so much! It's- Vaggie: I'm sorry. I'd… I'd like to be alone for a minute.

Carmilla chooses to open up to Zestial and tells her daughters how much she loves them. Vaggie instead closes herself off and refuses Charlie's attempt to talk. She is singing to Charlie, but Charlie herself isn't present to hear her out. Even when it comes to their respective secrets...

Carmilla says hers in the song:

Carmilla Carmine: I always thought that I would keep blood off my face But when that thing attacked, I had to act To cross that line and keep them safe But if anyone knew, then all of Hell would rise to war And who's to say who'd survive the fray? I might lose the ones that I was killing for

Vaggie only alludes to hers in the lyrics:

Vaggie: When I saw your face You made me feel like a stranger in a brand new place And it felt so good to be understood But there's so much I wished that I could say

Vaggie meets Charlie and feels like a stranger in a brand new place because at the time she is in fact a stranger in a brand new place:

So, Carmilla is able to express herself, while Vaggie can't. This isn't surprising, as Vaggie is basically a child-soldier:

Adam: Do you really think I wouldn't recognize one of my top girls just cuz you're out of uniform? You were on the front lines, I wouldn't forget a bad bitch like you. It's why I named you after the best thing ever. Vaggie.

She is brought up in Adam's army and is taught that love is conditional. She is one of Adam's best fighters, but the moment she makes a "mistake", she is discarded:

Lute: Sinful filth like you has no place in heaven.

This is why she feels Charlie will love her only if she is useful and never messes up:

Vaggie: I'm supposed to make your dreams a reality. I'm supposed to protect you. I'm supposed to never fail you. (...) If I can't help you, what's the point of me?

This fear of abandonement and rejection is also at the root of Vaggie's inability to tell Charlie about her past:

Adam: I guess I'll just tell little miss butterflies and rainbows that she's been fucking someone who's killed-- thousands of her people. I'm sure your relationship will be fine.

Still, despite her communication issues, Vaggie's heart is in the right place:

Rosie: If there's anything I've learned, it's that words are cheap, but actions, they speak the truth. So, what have her actions said?

Vaggie is a person of few words. This may be why she has less songs than other characters. Still, she lets her actions speak, so she is given a ballet lesson by a very talented ballerina:

DANCING THROUGH LIFE

Carmilla has a ballet motif, as her outfit resembles that of a ballerina and her two daughters are called after protagonists of famous ballets. So, it is only natural that she teaches Vaggie a new way to fight through dancing.

Vaggie was taught to fight with hate and anger. So, her fighting style is aggressive and focused on attack:

Carmilla: You leave yourself open with every swing. You fight like someone unafraid of harm, and this is what you'll take advantage of. Angels wield no shields, little armor and fight with reckless abandon.

Carmilla tells her she should instead dedicate herself to love, protection and defense:

Fuel yourself with the fear of losin' That somebody who's your reason to live Harnеss your heart and you can't help choosin' To fight with all you can give

Vaggie shouldn't just fight. She should dance:

She shouldn't hate:

I see you're driven by your detestation Your every step is stoked with animus You need a different type of motivation Or there's no way that you can handle this

She should love:

Out for love~ Love~ Think of who you care about Protect them and be out For love~ Love~

Vaggie listens to these teachings and applies them in the finale, in two ways.

She sings her love for Charlie in More Than Anything Reprise:

Vaggie: You've already done so much So many lives you've changed So many souls you've touched And in the end, if it's only me you've saved Charlie and Vaggie: There's something that I've been dying to say More than anything, more than anything Need you to know I love you more than anything More than anything

As stated above, Vaggie doesn't sing much in season 1, but in the final episode she gets a short moment to express how she feels to Charlie. This is in contrast to Whatever It Takes, where she sends her girlfriend away before she starts singing. More Than Anything Reprise shows Vaggie's progress when it comes to self-expression.

She follows Carmilla's advices while fighting

On a practical level she covers herself up in a battle suit inspired by Carmilla's outfit, she wears a harness on her heart and ties her hair:

Vaggie: I'm not used to fighting with long hair.

On a thematic level she reveals her wings and defeats Lute, when the exorcist threathens Charlie:

Lute: So, I'll spare you the pain of seeing your demon bitch die.

And Vaggie eventually chooses not to kill the other angel:

Lute: Do it, then. Correct your mistake. Vaggie: Seriously, you're pathetic, you know that? Ready to die rather than accepting mercy? No, live. Live knowing that you only do because I let you, the failure.

Vaggie is asked to choose between her hate for Lute and her love for Charlie and she chooses the latter. This is why the scene ends with Vaggie leaving Lute and flying to help Charlie. She is given the chance to get revenge, but doesn't take it. She is given the chance to hate, but she loves:

I know you're thirstin' for vengeance, Vaggie You're out for blood But you'll only stand a chance if you're out for love

This is important in two ways:

1- The macrochosm - Vaggie refuses Lute's ideals and defies her expectations. For Lute it is normal that Vaggie is going to kill her. After all, Vaggie is discarded because she shows pity to a sinner, which makes her weak. Still, Vaggie bests Lute in a fight, so she is now strong. It is only obvious then that Vaggie has snapped out of her foolery and is ready to kill. She can correct her mistake. She did not kill the cannibal child, but she can kill Lute. This is how Lute understands the world. And yet, Vaggie doesn't finish her off. By doing so, she moves away from the mentality Lute embodies. She is strong precisely because she can show mercy. Adam is wrong. Lute is wrong. Vaggie isn't out for blood. She is out for love.

2- The microchosm - Vaggie sparing Lute isn't just the morally correct choice, but it is Vaggie's first step into healing:

Husk: (To Vaggie) This one. Judges everyone and everything because she hates herself.

Vaggie hates everyone because she deep down hates herself. She despises Heaven and Angels because she can't forgive her involvement in the exterminations. So, Vaggie hurting Lute would be Vaggie hurting her past self. As a matter of fact Lute is Vaggie's dark mirror. She is who Vaggie might become if she gives in to hate.

A person who hurts others:

And herself:

Vaggie instead has to value her life, so that she can protect others. She must save others and heal herself. Only in this way she can be by Charlie's side. She needs to let go of self-hate to embrace a healthy love. Vaggie's arc is her learning self-love through her bond with the Princess of Hell.

Obviously this journey is just at the beginning and our Angel of Love has a long way to go. How will her story contiue? We can make some hypothesis, which once again stem from Vaggie and Carmilla's foiling. This is just a theory, so take it with a grain of salt, but Vaggie may have a secondary personal antagonist in Hell:

Why is that so? It's because Scrambled Eggs sets Vaggie and Velvette up as foils.

RESPECT(LESS)

Velvette and Vaggie are opposites in their interactions with Carmilla. Both girls are younger than the Dancer Overlord and could learn a lot from her. However, Velvette refuses any kind of mentorship and shows no respect:

Velvette: Mad that I acted respectless? Well, it's cause no one could respect this! You're long past trending! Sorry, bae, but I ain't swiping right! You've lost your relevance-

Vaggie instead comes to respect Carmilla and learns from her:

At the same time, both Velvette and Vaggie confront Carmilla about her secret:

Velvette: 'Oops!' Did I strike a nerve? 'Cause when I brought out the angel's head, couldn't help but observe, that your wrinkled face was turning red! And why are you avoiding war? That's what the guns you sell are for! Thanks to my being respectless, one thing I'm starting to suspect is You know why this angel's headless! Do you have a disclosure?

Vaggie: I know what you did on extermination day. We can talk about it inside, or I can yell about it out here.

They call Carmilla out on killing an angel and keeping this knowledge to herself. Not only that, but both argue that it is necessary to fight back to stop the exterminations:

Velvette: We found it during Extermination day. If these Holy Rollers can be killed, the game has changed. We can take the fight to them. The boys and I have come up with a full assault plan!

Vaggie: Miss Carmine, I'm here on appointment from the princess to enlist your aid in the defense of hell from the angelic extermination. We know an angel fell at your hands and we need to know how.

Still, Velvette fails to get through to Carmilla because she uses war rhetoric:

Velvette: Oh, I get it. So Grandpa is too pussy to fight, so I guess there's no point, right? Oh, what's the matter, Fossil? Too senile to make a real power grab...

She speaks of violence, strength and power.

Vaggie instead convinces Carmilla to help because she mentions the necessity to fight for loved ones:

Vaggie: We didn't pick this fight, but it's here now. And they aren't going to stop with us. You didn't see the look on their leader's face. With us out of the way, it's only a matter of time before they come for the rest of you. They won't stop until all of hell is wiped out, so you can help us make a stand here together, or you can stand alone tomorrow.

She speaks of protection, love and comraderie.

In short, Vaggie succeeds where Velvette fails. Of course, this is true for Charlie's group in general when it comes to the Vees:

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

Katie Killjoy: Breaking news - Extermination day is cancelled! Charlie Morningstar managed to fend off the angelic attack with more than just nice words.

The Vees make big declarations of how they are gonna protect the people of Hell, but in the end it is Charlie and her friends who fight for the sinners.

When it comes to Vaggie and Velvette specifically, it is going to be interesting if their foiling is expanded. If so, then I guess Velvette is gonna help Vaggie mature a little bit more, so that when our ex exorcist faces Lute (her nemesis) again, she is gonna be ready for it.

[cantcompetewhereudontcompare]

A BRIEF ANALYSIS OF HARRY STYLES LYRICS

I've been thinking about how to approach the last part of the Louis' songwriting deconstruction (Part I, Part II, Part III, plus a bonus).

I mulled over different ways to go about it, and ultimately decided that before I delve into an analysis of Louis' lyrics, I need to analyze some of Harry's. Why? Because, as I said multiple times, I hate hypocrisy, so if I'm going to pick apart an artist's work, I need to show what my criteria is with art that I appreciate and like. Otherwise, I could very well cherry pick and be unfair, and that's not what I'm about.

Because we've established that Louis isn't really the one writing the music or melodies, I'm going to leave musicality, chord progressions, instrumentation, etc, out of this analysis and only focus on lyrics. But let me be clear, Harry is very intentional with that part of his music, and taking that part of the composition off this analysis is in detriment of his overall "score".

In fact, in my entire time as a fan of his, I thought Harry's lyrics were his weak point while his strength was melodies and instrumentation, and I while I haven't necessarily changed my mind, after analyzing his lyrics in a deeper way with poetic structure and rhyming schemes in mind, I've come to the conclusion that I underestimated him in that regard. His melodies and instrumentation are still the best ingredient, but his lyrics aren't as far behind as I originally thought they were.

I'm going to analyze Harry's songs by the following metrics:

Poetic intent: 1- Rhyming schemes and patterns 2- Effectivity and comfortability of the rhymes 3- Syllable distribution and cadence

Vocabulary*

Clichés, commonplaces, and overused tropes

Nonsensical elements and overall storytelling

Theme and execution of it

*In regards to vocabulary, initially I wanted to use the CEFR levels, but all the online tests I could find gave me the same result for every song, so it just became a useless metric. I wanted this to be impartial, but my own biased opinion will have to suffice.

In all regards, the benchmark I'm using is your average pop song, not a masterpiece work of art by the best lyricists of our lifetime. Essentially, I'm grading on a curve. Some metrics will have a baseline that's a 7 and gets upped or lowered. Some others will start at a 10 and get lowered if they mess up. I'll explain my thought process for each as I make my case for the first song.

Harry has recorded and released 35 songs total, and Louis has too (in the second part of this series I said he'd recorded and released 34, but that was not including Copy Of A Copy Of A Copy, which wasn't recorded in a studio but is part of his live album). That amounts to a grand total of 70 works. I simply won't be analyzing that many songs, so I'll pick a handful.

For both of them, the choices will be songs that I find interesting or think are their strengths. I promise I won't cherry pick the best of one and worst of the other. You're welcome to suggest other songs that you think represent Louis' strengths better.

When I type down the analysis this type of metric: [10S] will mean the amount of syllables of the line.

ONLY ANGEL

POETIC INTENT

VERSE 1 Open up your eyes, shut your mouth and see [11S] That I'm still the only one who's been in love with me [14S] I'm just happy getting you stuck in between my teeth [13S] And there's nothing I can do about it [10S] Broke a finger knocking on your bedroom door[11S] I got splinters in my knuckles crawling 'cross the floor [13S] Couldn't take you home to mother in a skirt that short[13S] But I think that's what I like about it [10S]

The stanza has 8 lines, which are neatly divided in two groups of four by both rhyming pattern and syllable distribution. The rhyming pattern is A A A B C C C B, syllable distribution is 47+47.

This is mirrored in the second verse:

VERSE 2 I must admit I thought I'd like to make you mine [12S] As I went about my business through the warning signs[13S] End up meetin' in the hallway every single time [12S] And there's nothin' we can do about it [10S] Told it to her brother and she told it to me [11S] That she's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see [13S] When it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets [13S] And there's nothing she can do about it [hey, hey] [10S]

Once again, the stanza has an A A A B C C C B rhyming pattern with a 47 + 47 syllable distribution.

All the other elements of this song (mainly chorus and bridge) are repetitive and playing into the instrumentation and the melody first and foremost. There isn't a rhyming pattern to analyze.

Rhyming schemes and patterns:

The verses have an interesting rhyming pattern. It's clearly not half-haphazarldly through together, but actually well thought out and with intent. It's not your run-of-the-mill rhyming pattern (those are usually A A B B or A B A B). There's something disruptive about the "about its". While I can't rate the chorus or bridge, I'm not going to deduct points for that, because if I were analyzing the music alongside the lyrics, they would be elevated by it, so while I can't add extra points for that, I think subtracting them would be unfair.

For this metric, the baseline will be a 7, and I'll be adding or subtracting points on that baseline.

Score: 9/10

Effectivity and comfortability of the rhymes:

They're good. Not amazing, but good. None of them blows my mind, but none of them are uncomfortable or feel forced either.

With this metric I'm starting at a 7 for "average pop song" and adding or subtracting points from that baseline.

Score: 7/10

Syllable distribution and cadence:

I'm not gonna lie, the symmetry is really appealing to me.

This score is pretty arbitrary. it's a very random metric, that will only apply to very specific songs. I'll start off with a 7 and add points if it stands out. Most songs will just be a 7.

Score: 9/10

Vocabulary:

It's good. It's not Bob-Dylan-esque good. It's not even Alex Turner good. But it's good. The scores here are in comparison to the average pop song, and I think Only Angel's vocabulary is slightly more elevated than the average pop song.

A standout lyric to me is "I must admit I thought I'd like to make you mine, as I went about my business through the warning signs." He's saying, "You may have all the red flags, but I have my rose-colored glasses on, so all I see is flags" in a more sophisticated way.

For this metric, I'm starting at a 7 for "typical pop song vocabulary" and adding or subtracting points based on that.

Score: 8/10

Clichés, commonplaces, and overused tropes:

When it turns out she's the devil in between the sheets.

This is the only cliché I can identify in this song. I can't expect singers to never include clichés, but I will take notice of them, and if overused, deduct points. Also, the clichés have to make sense with the rest of the song. In this case, it fits perfectly.

Would calling her an angel be classified as a cliché? Meh, that would mean literally every love song is a cliché.

The rest of the song is a well-executed romantic-adjacent song that doesn't rely on clichés.

For this metric, I'm starting off at 10 and deducting points for clichés.

Score: 9/10

Nonsensical elements and overall storytelling:

There are no nonsensical elements to this song. It's pretty well contained within its logic. It presents a relationship that isn't serious, but sexual in nature. While the lover's brother and the speaker's mother are mentioned, it's not to allude to a serious relationship, but the opposite. The speaker's mother is mentioned in the context of not taking the lover to meet her. The lover tells her brother that she's "gonna be an angel," but the speaker tells us that's not what ends up happening.

Even the sentence "end up meeting in the hallway every single time," which could sound a bit nonsensical, actually ties the second verse to the first ("broke a finger knocking on your bedroom door"). This sentence also ties back to another song on the same album (Meet Me In The Hallway), which I think is a nice touch.

It's pretty cohesive.

As with the last metric, with this one I'm starting at 10 and deducting points for nonsense or bad storytelling.

Score: 10/10

Theme and execution of it:

As I said earlier, it's a romantic-adjacent song that doesn't rely on typical and overused tropes, which makes it a little different. There isn't an allusion to a serious relationship, but rather, to one that's mainly sexual, which probably helps, as it's typically not that explored within the pop genre.

There's a very vivid image of him at her door, knocking vigorously until he gets hurt, then falling to his knees and crawling, and in that context running into her. The element of "every single time" gives us insight on this being a repeated occurrence.

Starting a romantic adjacent song by declaring that not only has the lover never been in love with the speaker, but also, that nobody else has, is really clever to me. It's self-deprecating and introduces us to an interesting theme, which flips the expectations of what a popstar might sing about, in terms of love, in its head.

I'm starting off this one at 7 for the average pop song. Elements that elevate it will better the score, elements that make it overdone, or nonsensical will lower it.

Score: 9/10

FINAL THOUGHTS:

Only Angel is not a lyrical masterpiece, but it's elevated by its innovative approach at a theme and rhyming structure. It's obviously well thought and its author knows about poetry and applied their knowledge correctly.

Score: 61/70 = A-

CAROLINA

POETIC INTENT

VERSE 1 She's got a family in Carolina So far away, but she says I remind her of home Feelin', oh, so far from home She never saw herself as a West Coaster Moved all the way 'cause her grandma told her"Townes, better swim before you drown"

The rhyming scheme in this verse is a combination of perfect rhymes ("Townes", which is pronounced "Town," and "drown"), repetition ("home"), and assonant rhymes. Assonant rhymes are those that sound similar when spoken but don't look similar in paper. There are assonant rhymes in Only Angel, but they look more similar, so they're more obvious to the untrained eye.

I recommend you listen to the song to check for yourself. Listen to how he says the words "Carolina" and then "I remind her," and then do the same thing with "as a West Coaster" and "grandma told her."

Let's rearrange some things to measure the syllables.

VERSE 1 She's¹ got² a³ fam⁴-i⁵-ly⁶ in⁷ Car⁸-o⁹-lina¹⁰ [10S] So¹ far² a³-way,⁴ but⁵ she⁶ says⁷ I⁸ re⁹-mind¹⁰ her¹¹ [11S] [of] home,¹ feel²-in',³ oh,⁴ so⁵ far⁶ from⁷ home⁸ [8S] She¹ nev²-er³ saw⁴ her⁵-self⁶ as⁷ a⁸ West⁹ Coas¹⁰-ter¹¹ [11S] Moved¹ all² the³ way⁴ 'cause⁵ her⁶ grand⁷-ma⁸ told⁹ her¹⁰ [12S] "Townes,¹ bet²-ter³ swim⁴ be⁵-fore⁶ you⁷ drown⁸" [8S]

The rhyming scheme is A A BB C C DD. I put [of] between brackets because it's there for grammar reasons he glues it to "home" in practice. Once again, as with Only Angel, you can divide this verse into two neat groups of 28 syllables.

B and D are examples of what's called "internal rhymes."

Verse 2 is even more technically intricate, and this time, it doesn't mirror verse 1.

VERSE 2 She's got a book for every sit-u-a-tion [10S] Gets in-to par-ties with-out in-vi-ta-tion [11S] How could you e-ver turn her down? [8S] There's not a drink that I think could sink her [10S] How would I tell her that she's all I think a-bout? [12S] Well, I guess she just found out [7S]

This rhyming scheme is amazing. A A BB CCC D D. It's a thing of dreams. There's two pairs of perfect rhymes ("situation" + "invitation" and "about" + "out"), a trio of perfect rhymes ("drink", "think", "sink"), and a pair of near rhymes ("how" + "down").

While the rhyming scheme differs between stanzas, the syllable structure is once again mirrored, with two groups of 29 syllables each.

BRIDGE I met her once and wrote a song about her I wanna scream, yeah, I wanna shout it out And I hope she hears me now

A AA AA is the rhyming scheme here. "Shout," "out," and "about" are perfect rhymes, they all share the same vowel: /aʊ/ and the same consonant /t/. "Hope" and "now" are assonant rhymes, with each other and with the rest.

As with Only Angel, the chorus is repetitive and elevated by the music. So I won't be adding or deducting points.

Rhyming schemes and patterns:

😍 I'm in love.

Score: 10/10

Effectivity and comfortability of the rhymes:

This type of rhymes are more common in hip-hop and a lot less common in pop music. Alex Turner is famously inspired by hip-hop, which is what encouraged him to do internal and assonant rhymes and whenever he could. I'm using Teddy Picker (a song Louis called out) as an example because it's very rich in it:

Another variation on a theme A tangle on the television and the magazine D'you reckon that they do it for a joke? D'you reckon that they make 'em take an oath That says that "We are defenders of any poser Or professional pretender around"

On its face, only "defenders" and "pretenders" should rhyme, but actually listen to the song. Listen how he pronounces every word and you'll see. Particularly eye-opening is how he pronounces "professional" with the stress on the last syllable, which changes the vowel to an open sound that rhymes with "we are."

Anyway, back to Harry, I'm not very used to this type of usage of rhyming in pop music, and I absolutely love it.

The fact that none of these are awkward, or cliché, or overdone. But also feel completely natural and like they just flow with the cadence of the song. No notes.

Score: 10/10

Syllable distribution and cadence:

I don't need to keep yapping.

Score: 10/10

Vocabulary:

In my humble opinion, the vocabulary is slightly better than the average pop song.

Score: 8

Clichés, commonplaces, and overused tropes:

The concept of "she's a good girl" and writing a song for someone you just met.

Is "she's got a book for every situation" a commonplace? I don't think so, right? It sounds like it should be, just like "there's not a drink that I think could sink her." The images these words elicit are so vivid, one would think these commonplaces already exist, but I can't find evidence of it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to claim that Harry was the first person ever to put these words together, but they certainly weren't widespread clichés.

Searching "book for every situation" (without quotes) and limiting the search to before the album came out yields no relevant results.}

I'm deducting two points and adding one for creating a sentence that sounds like it should be a cliché but isn't. Sorry, I don't make the rules.

Score: 9/10

Nonsensical elements and overall storytelling:

The logic within the song is solid. There are no nonsensical elements, no parts that were just added to bulk up the lyrics, no leaps of logic. The storytelling is excellent. He meets a girl once, she's exciting, and unique, and different, and after the date is over, he can't stop thinking about her, so he writes her a song without telling her he's doing it. She'll find out when she hears it.

Score: 10/10

Theme and execution of it:

The theme is a new spin on the typical love song (such as Only Angel was) and I think it's perfectly executed. It's not a magical concept, but it's cute.

Score: 8/10

FINAL THOUGHTS:

While I personally like Only Angel better, I'm trying not to be biased, and I think Carolina is a tighter song in terms of lyrics. It's very cohesive, the vocabulary is above average, the rhyming scheme is well thought out and done.

Score: 65/70 = A

GOLDEN

POETIC INTENT

VERSE 1 Gold-en, gold-en, gold-en as I o-pen my eyes [12S] Hold it, fo-cus, ho-ping, take me back to the light [12S] I know you were way too bright for me [9S] I'm hope-less, bro-ken, so you wait for me in the sky [13S] Browns my skin just right [5S] You're so golden [4S]

This stanza has two groups of rhymes that parallel each other throughout. The green rhymes are a mishmash of perfect rhymes with both the vowel /aɪ/ and the consonant /t/, and assonant rhymes where just the vowel rhymes.

The blue rhymes, however, are more complex. The single-syllable words "know" and "browns" are rhyming the vowel /oʊ/ (though, typically, "browns" would use the vowel /aʊ/, the way Harry pronounces, especially with a silent "S" makes it match with the rest).

The double-syllable rhymes, however, are compound rhymes, rhyming the vowels on both syllables. In Golden, the vowel for the first syllable is /oʊ/, and for the second one, /ə/. I'm not claiming every double-syllable rhyme here shares the /ə/ vowel because clearly they don't, but the way it's pronounced makes it rhyme. "Golden", "open", "broken". and "focus" do share them, though. Hopeless uses the /ɛ/ vowel, while "hold it" and "hoping" use the /ɪ/ vowel. Pronunciation, melody, and context makes it so all of these are compound rhymes.

The first two lines mirror each other perfectly, with each "golden" in the first line corresponding with a second line rhyme. "Gold-en" + "Hold it". "Gold-en" + "fo-cus". "Gold-en" + "ho-ping." and then ending both lines with an assonant rhyme ("eyes" and "light"). Both are also 12 syllables. In fact, the fourth line closely mirrors 1 and 2, while it doesn't fully do it (and there's a reason that we'll explore later), it does mirror the amount of syllables. It has 13 syllables, but if you listen to the song the "I'm" is sang alongside "for me".

The rhyming scheme here is AAAB AAAB AB AAB AB A.

VERSE 2 I don't wan-na be a-lone [7S] I don't wan-na be a-lone when it ends [10S] Don't wan-na let you know [6S] I don't wan-na be a-lone [7S] But I can feel it take a hold [8S] I can feel you take con-trol [7S] Of who I am and all I've e-ver known [10S] Lov-in' you's the an-ti-dote [7S] Gold-en [2S]

This stanza is simpler than the last one, though that's not saying much because the last one was kind of insane. All the blue words rhyme with each other through the vowel /oʊ/ making these assonant rhymes, but "alone" and "ends" also rhyme, through the consonant /n/, making this a consonant rhyme ("ends" such as "browns" gets the "silent s" treatment from Harry). It's likely this rhyme is added for effect. A rhyme that separates itself from the rest, to show us how final and serious he is about it "ending."

This one would be a A AB A A A A A A A pattern. Chef's kiss.

As typical for Harry (and for a lot of pop artists!) the bridge and chorus of this song don't really have a rhyming pattern worth analyzing and play a lot with instrumentals and melodies.

Rhyming schemes and patterns:

Having two separate rhymes going at the same time, one of them being mostly compound rhymes, while also being coherent and intentional with your vocabulary isn't exactly easy. The first verse is incredible. The second one is not bad at all, just a little less impressive.

Score: 9.5/10

Effectivity and comfortability of the rhymes:

What would earn negative points here, would be uncomfortable rhymes, where you add a word simply because it rhymes even if it doesn't make sense or sounds awkward. Or rhymes where it technically rhymes, but it sounds awkward to the ear. What earns positive points is internal rhyming, unexpected or clever rhyming, assonant rhyming that you'd never expect to rhyme, etc.

Golden does neither of these things, so I'll give it a neat 7.5. It's good, but it's not mindblowing. It earns a 0.5+ for somehow doing a whole scheme including the word "antidote" and have it make perfect sense.

Score: 7.5/10

Syllable distribution and cadence:

The first verse is a 10/10 the second one gets points for congruity.

Score: 8.5/10

Vocabulary:

It's okay. Nothing revolutionary. Sliiightly better than the average pop song.

Score: 7.5/10

Clichés, commonplaces, and overused tropes:

I can't think of any. Self-deprecation, though not a novelty is not exactly a staple of pop culture. Usually the singer tells us why the lover is either perfect or at fault. Songs where the singer believes they're not good enough are rarer. That alone makes Golden stand out. There are also no commonplaces or idioms that I can identify.

Score: 10/10

Nonsensical elements and overall storytelling:

There aren't any nonsensical elements. No words just added there to fill a void that don't make sense. No leaps of logic, nothing like that.

Its storytelling is actually really good. I can't analyze the music side of it, for the reasons I already mentioned, but it definitely plays a role in storytelling.

Strictly lyrics, though, in the first verse he's describing the feeling of being dazzled by a bright light when you're not used to them. You open your eyes and you have to squeeze them shut because it's so bright. He's looking at it, and it's "golden, golden, golden." As his eyes get used to it, he's asking her to "hold it", he's "focusing" and he's "hoping" that he can get back to that light, which seems to be moving away. But as the verse progresses, he tells us that, in reality, he always knew she (the light) was too bright for him. He's not hoping anymore, he's hopeless, and he's not holding anymore, he's broken. She's no longer near him, she's now in the sky. And as the sun, in the sky, it browns his skin.

Once you break down the verse this way, it's heartbreaking. He went from having her next to him, blinding him, to moving away from him. And he tries to stay with her, but eventually realizes it simply isn't possible. She's now distant, in the sky. She's still present, browning his skin, affecting him, still, but she's further away.

In the second verse, he's grippling with the fact that this distance will only grow bigger. And he's anguished about the inevitable reality of ending up alone, which he now is sure will happen. He tells us through repetition exactly how anguished he is about it. Despite this, despite knowing this relationship will inevitably end, he tells us that she still has a hold of him and how important she is to him.

It's beautiful storytelling, using a metaphor to retell the ending of a relationship. To be able to write something so compelling while also using such beautiful poetry is a gift.

Score: 10/10

Theme and execution of it:

This is a "love song" but as I said before, it's not your typical one. It has a self-deprecating angle that's not too experimented with. As I just detailed, too, it's very well-executed. I think the angle it takes for storytelling is fresh and interesting.

Score: 9/10

FINAL THOUGHTS:

I'm so mad I can't analyze music with this song, because hooo boy does the music play a huge role in this one. All I can say is that it's a great song.

Score: 62/70 = B+ (the music would elevate this to an A+)

LOVE OF MY LIFE

POETIC INTENT

VERSE 1 Things hav-en't been quite the same [7S] There's a haze on the ho-ri-zon, babe [9S] It's on-ly been a cou-ple of days and I miss you, [13S] When noth-ing re-al-ly goes to plan [9S] You stub your toe or break your cam-era [9S] I'll do ev-ery-thing I can to help you through [11S]

The words "same", "haze, "babe", and "days" are all assonant rhymes through the vowel /eɪ/. "Plan" and "can" share the /æ/ vowel. "You", "do" and "through" all have the /uː/ vowel. This leaves you with a A AA AB C BCB rhyming pattern. There's a single line left out with no rhymes. This would be normal for any other pop star, but not really for Harry, especially if every other line is full of rhymes. So why? Because that line is representing "nothing really going to plan."

It even sounds a little out of place when he sings it. That's on purpose. Artists that do this, hiding the meaning of the lyrics in the poetry, are my absolute favorite, and I had never noticed Harry did this until right about now.

VERSE 2 I've nev-er been a fan of change [8S] But I'd fol-low you to an-y place [9S] If it's Hol-ly-wood or Bish-ops-gate, I'm com-ing, too [13S]

The second verse is very short and sweet, and filled to the brim with rhymes. Having two parallel rhymes and one of them including the word BISHOPSGATE. I commend him, really.

He does the bit of representing the lyrics with poetry again, "I'm coming too" has an assonant rhyme with "Hollywood." It's not an exact thing, but the vowels /ʊ/ and /u/ have a very similar rounded sound from the back of the mouth.

I've always thought that he intended this song to be about Olivia Wilde (he started writing it before he met her, but he kept retouching it over the months, case in point "you break your camera"), who lived in Hollywood and moved to London with her kids. There was a whole conflict with her kids' dad about that, specifically, so Harry is telling her "either way, I'll be there." There's a slight mention of this in As It Was ("leave America, two kids follow her"). Curiously, the As It Was music video was filmed in the Barbican, which is right next to Bishopsgate. Harry and Olivia spent a bunch of time in or around Bishopsgate (almost anyone in London would, to be fair).

Anyway, rhyming scheme A AB AB.

CHORUS We've been doin' all this late-night talkin' 'Bout anything you want until thе morning Now you're in my life I can't get you off my mind

Nothing too impressive here, but it's rare for Harry to not just vibe with the music in the chorus. So we have rhymes in a chorus for the first time! (Not really the first time — I'm being facetious — even Sign of the Times' chorus is full of rhymes). Rhyming scheme AA AA B B.

Rhyming schemes and patterns:

The device of using not-rhyming to communicate part of the lyrics is really clever and I really like it. Other than that, the schemes are good, but not mindblowing. The first verse is really cool, though.

Score: 8.5/10

Syllable distribution and cadence:

Okay! Nothing mindblowing. Nothing too intentional. It's okay.

Score: 7/10

Effectivity and comfortability of the rhymes:

Listen, he managed to rhyme BISHOPSGATE seamlessly. Give him props, for the love of god.

Score: 8.5/10

Vocabulary:

Better than your average pop song — not exactly the reincarnation of David Bowie, but better than average. "There's a haze in the horizon" gets an extra point.

Score: 8/10

Clichés, commonplaces, and overused tropes:

I mean, there are very common elements, such as following your lover everywhere and...

"I can't get you off my mind"

But it's the type of commonplace you expect in a pop song. So I'll allow it (I'll still deduct a point, though).

Score: 9/10

Nonsensical elements and overall storytelling:

Storytelling through rhymes, are you kidding? And also, nothing is nonsensical. And he manages to tell a coherent story.

Score: 10/10

Theme and execution of it:

It's cute, not super overdone but also not overly original.

Score: 7/10

FINAL THOUGHTS:

This is one of my least favorite songs by Harry (I still like it a lot), but I chose it because I thought it was interesting how he incorporated the rhyming in the storytelling (he kinda did that with Golden, but very subtly). And I wanted to include at least one chorus with a rhyming scheme. Lyrically, Matilda, Boyfriends, Love Of My Life, and Music For A Sushi Restaurant are much better (off this album). Also, low key Keep Driving. But Late Night Talking is still a very good pop song.

Score: 58/70 = B

Overall, Harry is a compelling songwriter who tends to put thought into his rhyming schemes and intent behind his lyrics. He, perhaps, overuses repetition (less so now than before) and could elevate his vocabulary and themes a little bit, but I would say that his lyrics are actually better than average and he doesn't get enough credit for them because people tend to either just listen to his biggest hits or not look too deep into them.

I think lyrics are his weakest point as a songwriter, but that doesn't mean they're bad at all. At the end of the day, it all boils down to taste.

I think in male mainstream pop, the only male artist that I rate higher than Harry in terms of songwriting is Hozier. Ed Sheeran could be up there too, but he sold out a while ago, and is slowly going back to his roots. I'm obviously not even considering incredible hip-hop artists like Kendrick Lamar or rock-leaning artists like Alex Turner (I would say Alex isn't really that mainstream nowadays).

I think Harry is a B- songwriter when it comes to lyrics and an A- songwriter when it comes to instruments.

[sky-swimmer]

helloo it's me grassthehopper!! unfortunately i cant figure out how to change my secondary blog into primary blog 😔 but i believe you could still follow me there @grassthehopper also im so glad you really liked apple cider by beabadoobee for your devzel fic so i've come with more songs that i relate to devzel in general hehe 🙂‍↕️ - harvey by her's: a lot of ppl already made the connection but istg this is literally their song!! its super catchy and cute, and it goes well with hazel's name too - no.1 party anthem by artic monkeys: specifically the part "sunglasses indoors" which is so dev lmao but also the yearning vibe of this song fits so well with them!! - bags by clairo: its the hesistance of waiting for the other, longing stolen glances, along with heavy bags to deal with, ...yeah - forwards beckon rebound by adrianne lenker: basically the course of their friendship that pulls and pushes, every improvement of their bond has its setbacks but with a promise of an intimate connection. at least, to my interpretation anyway😗 - bonus song that reminds of my baby hazel: teenage girl by cherry glazerr this is already pretty long so i'll stop there haha oops.. i apologize for the particularly long ask 😅

HELLO GRASSTHEHOPPER!!! Thank you so much for finding me here! And I'm so SO sorry about the delayed reply. I had such a busy Christmas season, and then I wanted to listen to what you suggested so I could give my thoughts on it!

First of all, yes I'm still reeling about apple cider, and I LOVED EVERYTHING ELSE I JUST LISTENED TO. TIME FOR OVER ANALYSIS UNDER THE CUT

1. Harvey by hers: Yeah, so when the chorus came on???

"Harvey, Nobody knows what I see, Nobody knows I'm waiting, Waiting for you to call"

MY SOUL LEVITATED OUT OF MY BODY. Immaculate choice!!! Sobbing and screaming. The yearning AKAKSKSKSJDJHHDHDJ THE YEARNING

2. No.1 Party Anthem: the yearning again but also just the vibes... AgH. The hype title of the song and the juxtaposition of the actual melody and lyrics... It's like... feeding me. Idk the intent of the song, but to me it almost gives an underlying sense of hopelessness / dread about your feelings, but forcing yourself to go through the motions because you know you can't outrun it. Which for Hazel and Dev??? 😭🤧 I can't even go there. Realizing you have feelings for your friend is not always great, especially if you're scared of losing what you have, or you think the other person won't like you back.

3. Bags by clairo: AIGHT- love it. As you mentioned, yearning, but also agshshd there's so much uncertainty in the song and waiting for the other person to make a move, waiting for the other person to figure out you like them so they can decide what to do about it iejfjrjfjrjfjrbgfh I AM GOBBLING IT UP. Devzel coded ofc!! The awkward pining stage yesyes

4. Forwards beckon rebound: oKAY I am living for your words on it. I love the push and pull of their friendship... And yes omg the lyrics to me also lean into eventually opening yourself up to someone and allowing yourself to trust them, even if it's scary or difficult I just- no explanation needed as to why that's so cute for Devzel *sobs* you've wounded me greatly. I love it.

5. Teenage girl by cherry glazerr: *eats this delicious morsel.* This is such a fun and goofy song I LOVE it for Hazel!!! Yes yes. Immaculate choices all of themm

And also NEVER apologize for a long ask. Each word adds 10 years to my lifespan. I love that you took the time to share all this with me 😭😭😭 especially after I said I was in a drought of Devzel / ANW hc songs!!! And I loved all your choices!! I had never heard any of them but they're all going into my playlist freak yes 😤😤💪💪💪💪 THANK YOU THIS WAS LITERALLY SUCH A WONDERFUL MESSAGE TO RECEIVE IN MY INBOX

Omw to follow you rn!!!! 🚨🚨 More fop content on my feed!!!!

[sulrae]

Megatron likes Hip-hop

Megatron never really understood the Lost Light's love for human media. In part because of his...negative impact on earth. Therefore, he's left out of the several conversations and references that some (Rodimus and Swerve) bots tend to make.

He does eventually find interest in human poetry after receiving a datapad of earth's greatest literature, courtesy of Minimus. He goes through the likes of Emily Dickinson and Lewis Carroll with a fine tooth comb. He ends up learning a bit about earth history and culture as he attempts to interpret context and meaning. Arabic poetry leaves a tingle in his spark as the words of Maram al-Marsi's A Red Cherry on a White-tiled Floor has him enamored with human's relationship with love.

He pours over Maya Angelou's I Know Why The Cage Bird Sings several times that he has it memorized. He even finds video clippings of her performing the poem over the years.

Megatron ends up stumbling into Hip-hop through human forums.

A decacycle habit to observe discourse and theories gave insight to much of the works he had read. Perspectives surrounding word choice he never considered. There were times in which he wanted to take part. The lack of mechs interested in poetry left him itching for conversation. However, the concept of Megatron, former Decepticon warlord arguing about stanzas with humans would be frowned upon by many. So he was content with reading and mumbling to himself about his own opinions.

And then one of his forums becomes rife with discussion after someone posts a wall of text, filled with anger and passion on the disrespect of the music genre of hip-hop. A response that came from someone else's thinly veiled contempt towards an artist receiving a Pulitzer for his work. The poster goes in detail of how this form of rhythm and poetry combine in ways the require skill. How the stories of oppression and love are spoken with such intensity in one moment, and a quiet calm in the next. "You clutch pearls at the sight of it as if you don't rip them from the clams you so greatly detest". The scathing remarks provides enough intrigue for Megatron to finally look into music on earth.

He pulls up the Trapped by 2pac. It rattles the bones of his past. The words lingers in his processor for cycles after.

It takes no time at all for Megatron to dive into the rest of Tupac's discography. Once he's done with that, he takes in more. N.W.A lights embers that was similar to the early days of the war. Mobb Deep brings him back to the streets of Kaon. The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill centers him a bit; allows him to simply sit with the album's beauty over a cube of energon one evening.

He picks through the more modern hip-hop and rap. Megatron can't seem to let go of the sound of the artists before, his expectations set unbelievably high. Very few could provide the same captivation of hearing Trapped for the first time.

Which was why it was fitting when Megatron finally reaches the artist that was so ardently defended.

Kendrick's music surprised Megatron at every turn. There was serenity in one verse that would build into a maelstrom of vigor and fervor. He was playful with intonation that any form of monotone required stillness. His lyrics melded with melody and the quick change of beats felt as though Megatron was listening to master craftsmen. To Pimp A Butterfly pushed Megatron to fill datapad after datapad with his own analysis and excitement. He gets through the DAMN. album and sits in silence after Duckworth finishes playing. Megatron almost misses his shift due to filling over 4 datapads worth of thoughts. One of them being that the album- while phenomenal- comes second to Pimp A Butterfly (The sampling of the interview with Tupac certainly adds to the bias).

It comes to the point where Megatron has to find someone to talk to about the genre. Minimus will spend too long on the vulgarity of lyrics. While Megatron thinks that while Drift would take delight in some of the music, there's still an air of tension whenever the two are around one another that suggests their relationship should stay professional. Megatron's at a loss with all of his thoughts when Grimlock of all bots catches him humming and goes, "Is that Outkast?"

It's a strange comradery they build, yet one that Megatron's delighted to take part in over energon at Swerve's. They've gotten a few stares that intensify anytime they have any arguments on which region's produces the best rappers.

("You can't deny the impact of west coast rap." Megatron had threw his hands up.

"And I refuse to let you consider southern rap artists as a 'paltry attempt' of emulating New York!" Grimlock pointed at Megatron.)

Magnus gently asked them to have their conversations somewhere else.

The Lost Light ends up encountering a human ship that isn't thrilled to see Megatron (even in a parallel universe, Megatron still finds a way to cause fear), but doesn't outright attack him on the account of the autobot badge on his chasis. They give him a wide berth while on the Lost Light. That is until him and Grimlock play Juvenile (at Grimlock's request), and have two human's peaking around the corner with shock and judgement. They ask both of them their thoughts on the genre that has Megatron stand a bit straighter as he talks for joors about his descend into hip-hop. One of the humans nod- still wary of Megatron but regards him with the respect. The other (Jeremiah) revels in this fact and is brought into the fold. The three meet every so often, discussing the state of music.

Then one day, Jeremiah rushes to Megatron with the rap battle of the generation.

Megatron smiles so hard at Kendrick's responses that it scares the whole Lost Light.

[callmearcturus]

I like your show pony analysis, especially re: the pov blending, but I feel it also really rings true as a story of a kid watching a dysfunctional relationship between his parents, and of course later seeing it echoed in his own relationships. It's probably the more obvious layer of interpretation, but to me the emotional core is stored in the specificity of anecdotes about the ways a mother and wife performs when trapped in an abusive relationship (and the lessons a kid takes away from that) - autobiographical not just in the sense of experiencing that adult relationship but also having been caught in the cycle of it from your own upbringing.

thinks hard

okay yes, i will accept this. the duality of "I am walking the same paths of my mother" has a satisfying connecting click with the later repeated refrain of you held me like my mother made me just for you, held me so close that I broke in two in "Creatures" and the even later I veer left when I walk-- really? this is what you want? cause you'll find a better one, someone functional and how it pairs with a old trauma of I think we're formed from old lego

there are a lot of interesting repeated motifs and themes across all of Glass Animals' work and the sense of mirroring the burden of your mother without blaming her is a very loud one, all the way back to "Youth" and then every third song of Dreamland and now every third song on ILYSFM

imo Glass Animals has a truly massive queer audience (like, I was at the Alpharetta, is was like everyone was putting on a Visible Queerness Fashion Show, my brother got roped into taking pictures for people like five separate times!) because there is nothing heterosexual about any of this music and "Wonderful Nothing" is just the cherry on top

but personally what I find really interesting about HTBAHB/Dreamland/ILYSFM* is the gender thing, which Dreamland just started saying out loud from the fucking FIRST SONG

You go ask your questions like, "What makes a man?" Oh, it's 2020 so it's time to change that So you go make an album and call it Dreamland

which is the prime example of using second person about yourself

but at this point this is a whole separate (but related) digression

*sorry to leave ZABA out, it's still weird and gay but in a different way that's less focused lyrically

[greenthena]

After my interlude with Gemini yesterday regarding E at Yo ur Yo ung, I thought I'd try another Hozier song. Cherry Wine, I thought. It'll understand the implications, yah?

No. Just.....here's what Gemini had to say about the lyrics. It's SO FUCKING NOT EVEN....

(Btw, Tumblr killed my post on EYY. Yah, so that happened.)

From Gemini:

Theme: The poem explores a tumultuous and passionate mother-daughter relationship, characterized by both love and conflict.

Imagery:

Fire and ice: Contrasting imagery of heat and cold symbolizes the intensity and volatility of the relationship.

Wire: Walking a tightrope suggests the precarious nature of the dynamic.

Blood: The metaphor of blood being "rare and sweet as cherry wine" implies a deep, almost primal connection.

Sheets: The stained sheets allude to infidelity or emotional betrayal.

Tone: The tone is both raw and poetic, conveying a sense of intensity, pain, and longing.

Analysis:

Conflict and Love: The speaker acknowledges the mother's fiery temperament and aggressive behavior, yet expresses a deep desire for her love and affection.

Co-dependency: The lines "The way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine" suggest a symbiotic relationship, perhaps bordering on co-dependency.

Masochism: The speaker seems to derive pleasure or satisfaction from the mother's emotional intensity, even when it's harmful.

Ambivalence: The speaker is torn between the desire for love and the fear of pain, expressed in the lines "Open hand or closed fist would be fine."

No no no. On every account absolutely not. Machoism????? Good fucking lord. This is a song that highlights domestic abuse. Even Hozier confirms this. How is AI not even referencing the LIVING ARTIST who composed these lyrics.

Im spittin, y'all. Spit-ting mad.

[the-words-we-sung]

The songs of Young Royals - S2 E1

Here we go for season 2!! More songs so hopefully even more interesting stuff to analyze ^^

Brainfreeze, XVOTO

When I die ... All the voices in my head Tell them how it went and tell them not to miss me much ... Live forever ... Is it God that you see?

The song starts when Wilhelm is in Erik's room, while he burns the picture of his brother and August. It's fitting that the lyrics are partly about death, about telling people not to miss the dead person. Wilhelm misses Erik so much though. This is a good choice for a season that is going to be a lot about grieving. And the "Is it God that you see?" when we get to August sending messages to Wilhelm asking him to forgive him: yeah, will there be a redemption for you?

Aldrig igen, Omar Rudberg (Cherrie & Stormzy)

Being alone, I'm the strongest It's never happening again ... Because I don't wanna feel like this I don't wanna feel like this I don't wanna feel like this Who would wanna feel like this ... It won't happen again

So I discovered during this analysis that it is not a little snippet of a song that Simon created but the cover of an actual Swedish song ^^ He sings it while Marcus is listening in his back. The song reflects completely what Simon is feeling: the break up happened just before the Christmas break, so not that long ago, and he's still feeling so heartbroken. But he doesn't want to keep feeling that way, he doesn't want this painful situation to happen again (seems fateful that it is when Marcus enters the picture: Simon says it there, he will not fall in love and get his heart broken again, so too bad for you Marcus, but you will not get a love story here! Simon will say it himself later on in the season "why can't I fall in love with him?"). The entire song is actually super interesting lyrics-wise because it's about getting over a break up, feeling betrayed by someone who lied, and deciding that you actually deserve better. "Please stop stressing me, I need to breathe... First you wanna leave, now you wanna stay?": it's really about an ex who doesn't know what he wants and keeps changing his mind, changing the rules. Which is what Wilhelm is kinda doing (saying it's not him in the video to the world but then coming to Simon to ask to keep things going, and the the whole beginning of this season where he's gonna try to get Simon's back even though his situation hasn't changed). So yeah these 2 first songs of the season are really fitting to both characters and a very good idea of what the season is gonna be about : angry and grieving Wilhelm vs heartbroken, betrayed (but trying to find his boundaries) Simon

Bang, Cat Clark & Mega

We ain't never stepping down ... I'ma run laps round all you rats

Pretty fitting for Sara finally entering the privileged life of Hillerska. With all these students from rich family who will never "step down", who will keep the status quo, keep looking down on people who are not from their world.

Ripe, Flavia

No need to go to work unless I'm working on your body Hold you up, lay you down, staying up 'til the morning Working hard in the sheets, we could stay here for a week No need to go to work 'less I'm working on your body

A song with very suggestive lyrics, which less very little to the imagination about what the students are gonna get up to at this party ^^' "Ripe for the picking even when I'm not in season": can we also talk about Sara getting her initiation and being thrown into this classist privileged Hillerska life while still being an outsider? There lyrics feel like some kind of metaphor for her wanting so badly to be integrated, to feel ready for that. Or to think she's ready for that, while the reality might not be the same.

Love isn't love, Carola

Stranger, you came into my life Touched me with sweet sensation ... And stranger, you cut me like a knife ... It isn't right It isn't real at all It's just illusion A dream that will tumble and fall

The infamous karaoke "date". I like that the first sentences are sung by Marcus, because yes he got immediately interested in Simon after meeting him. But then he passes the mic to Simon who has to sing "cut me like a knife" and, he doesn't know it yet, but Marcus is quite toxic in the end. He is not gonna treat him well at all, not gonna respect him and his boundaries. Their "relationship" is not gonna help him or heal him at all, it's just gonna hurt him. And we cannot ignore the very (NOT) subtle lyrics when Wilhelm watches the Insta story of them singing: "it's not real". Because it's not. It's not a date. It's not love. It's nothing. And yeah, he's gonna be under the "illusion" of them being together and happy, but it's nothing more than that, an illusion. (And special mention to Wilhelm going feral and threatening the whole monarchy because his ex-boyfriend is on a date: Wilhelm baby, I love you so much!)

Seize the power, Yonaka

Woke up this morning I feel so fucking important I look in the mirror I'm different I finally made a decision ... They hurt you and make you feel helpless They're not brave like you They're too scared to do Anything that's different Anything that's new I don't need lessons I do what I want it's refreshing ... Hey there how you've been? I'm the voice in your head And I know you've been aching When you find me let me in I got power in my hands and it's yours for the taking

So this song is for the end credits of the episode but it's an amazing one and so important! We just saw Wilhelm yell at his mother and threaten the Courts because he doesn't want to be Crown Prince, doesn't want the responsibilities, doesn't want to be a puppet to them, doesn't want to sacrifice Simon and their relationship. And the first lyrics feel fitting: he's mad (and the lights in this bedroom are red and twisty: what better image to represent the rage coiling inside of him at this moment?), he "woke up" after being faced with the reality of the consequences of his lying about the sex tape. With the reality that Simon is on a date with someone else. And gosh yeah, these people, your own mother, they hurt you so badly and made you feel helpless. Making you follow their orders with not agency of your own. But you're gonna be so brave, and different, and strong! I love the chorus "I'm the voice in your head" because he's angry and screaming and threatening but nothing is very effective in the end (we'll see that next episode). He doesn't seem to have power yet. But if he listens to the little voice inside, if he takes the time to do that (and he will! Thanks to Boris for helping him doing some introspection and realizing things), he will realize that the power is here, deep inside him. That the strenght to do what's right for him, for Simon, well he has it. He just needs to close his eyes, reach inside and "take it"

The songs of Young Royals - part 1 The songs of Young Royals - part 2 The songs of Young Royals - part 3 The songs of Young Royals - part 4

[rachthepoet]

Falling Analysis

This ballad of beauty doesn't receive the flowers it deserves, even as the years grow between the album's release and now. I'm left puzzled as to why people refuse to let themselves fall into the eloquent melancholy that is Falling. He's haunted, he's all-consumed, he's drowning — and all outcomes of a battle with self-hatred and inner combat. Despair and insecurity in his persistent questioning as he hits rock bottom — he has crashed and is left wondering about everything he's ever known about himself and his identity.

This, I believe, is how Falling hits everybody differently, but all come out with a lingering sense of sadness and grief. The song structure encompasses all aspects of loss: of something, of someone, of a relationship, and — the most heartbreaking to listen to and witness — of yourself. The song, in itself, is a decline in both lyrics and composition. An emotional decline, a physical decline. The feeling of the stomach dropping, falling, as the hideous truth one's tried to hide for so long comes to one's eye level, and there's an inability to run anymore.

Here's a deep dive into Harry Styles' Falling, from a poet.

Song Associations

Much like with Cherry, Falling is essential to the sophomore album's narrative as it branches out to connect with other songs in the selection. For specifics, I find this is most true with associations and allusions to Lights Up and To Be So Lonely.

Let's start with the Lights Up to Falling pipelines. Loneliness is prominent in the foreground of the latter song, but there's a deeper root to these problems that feels akin to the Lights Up, where the speaker has stopped to ask himself what he's become. There's despair and insecurity in his question as he hits rock bottom in Falling, almost seamlessly molding into the dark side of Lights Up. The lowest point of everything is when you think you've found yourself but can't see it the whole way through. The feeling of being about to fall and the fear of never being able to find the way back to the surface for a refreshing breath. Though different wording than the prior, Falling presents the audience with another opportunity to wonder do we know who we are -- and, does he know himself?

Finishing with the Falling to To Be So Lonely pipelines. And it follows the established idea of this song facing the darker side of things. These two songs are a pair of sisters in the album, with Falling as the older sister. My reasoning? To Be So Lonely still holds some innocence and playfulness, but, with Falling, it's as if the innocence that was once held onto has been brutally ripped away. The sophomore album is focused on discovery, specifically moments of self-discovery, and Falling captures the essence of the darker moments of that introspection. The drowning.

Lyric Pull Apart

[VERSE 1] I'm in my bed And you're not here And there's no one to blame but the drink in my wandering hands Forget what I said It's not what I meant And I can't take it back, I can't unpack the baggage left

I'm in my bed / And you're not here: Here, I don't think the bed is a bed, but rather a symbol for relationship and intimacy, as the speaker places himself in a vulnerable position at the top of the piece. Lying with one's significant other is intimate and precious, so, to highlight the absence of another and notice a proper vacancy — depicting his loneliness in the same bed that once easily enveloped two — sets the tone effectively and quick. Then, a direct address to you. The audience here, we are very much bystanders, almost intruding on this. In two opening lines, the feeling of isolation is set up soundly as vulnerability lies bare.

And, before chugging along, I feel obligated to add how I find a striking parallel back to 2017's Meet Me in the Hallway and From the Dining Table with recurring themes and motifs of the bedroom and the loneliness of finding a vacancy beside oneself.

And there's no one to blame but the drink in my wandering hands: Often, this line is interpreted as an admittance of infidelity. I'm not ruling out that interpretation entirely, but it irks me when people refuse to elaborate past that. A line always has a possibility of multiple layers. So, the speaker's blaming himself immediately for whatever has gone wrong — self-admittance and self-hatred solidify themselves early for it then to be carried out throughout as a core theme.

The drink represents unhealthy coping mechanisms — makes a call to MMITH, to me — of trying to dull his senses to hide away from the pain that comes with aforementioned and foreshadowed self-admittance and self-hatred, as well as isolation, both physically and emotionally. Now, with his wandering hands, we can bring back the infidelity, but also tie it to the lines before, and with more nuance — wandering hands as he's reaching out for the person that's supposed to be next to him in this bed, but he can't feel them anymore.

Forget what I said / It's not what I meant: In Harry's pieces, it feels inevitable that one will stumble upon the inability to communicate. And maybe this is another moment of self-admittance for the speaker here, an awareness and another thing he takes the blame for — in miscommunication, there was unraveling, and in unraveling, he has found himself in this engrossing moment of isolation and melancholia. Pulled under the currents of it all.

And I can't take it back, I can't unpack the baggage left: The baggage image encompasses the song in its entirety, for it feels like there's an unspoken weight being added to him constantly, with every question and thought that he faces through the duration. And, with this weight, the song dips down, mirroring as he does so. He's falling, he's sinking, and no hope can be seen. Combined, then, with the lyrics that precede it, another moment or self-admittance and realization arises — he realizes that what has been said and done can't be taken back and now he's left with wounds unable to be healed, as he grapples with moving on from the guilt. The guilt almost manifests into rocks in the speaker's pockets, causing him to sink under, further and further, into this despise for the self. His own self.

[CHORUS] What am I now? What am I now? What if I'm someone I don't want around? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin' What if I'm down? What if I'm out? What if I'm someone you won't talk about? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin'

I adore this chorus. There's something to be said about the chorus being filled to the brim with rhetorical questions, for it only amplifies the loneliness and isolation from all else. Belting out these questions, in a way that seems like he's begging, pleading, for the answers. Looking for the resolutions. But, nobody is going to answer him back, and he's stuck in a spiraling loss, and, from the repetition and other stylistic choices, listeners can pick up on this separation by ear.

What am I now? / What am I now?: An echo of Lights Up, regarding struggling to find oneself. But, then, add on more nuance with the context of this song exclusively, and we are witnesses to an identity crisis catalyzed by losing someone one's gotten too attached to. Falling for, cherishing, loving, indulging, and losing oneself to. With the loss of someone he could've put his whole identity into, he can be left with this remaining unknown who he is and who he has become. Hence the begging for answers with What am I now?. This leads to confusion and chaos, this debate of who's become — ultimately creates this feeling of falling and drowning.

What if I'm someone I don't want around?: Another moment of self-hatred, a conversation with oneself though phrased in a question — a stylistic choice to emphasize the internal struggle, flux, and doubt. Another moment of placing the blame on himself, a much more subtle form, but still everpresent.

What if I'm down? / What if I'm out?: This worry of the speaker losing himself to the point of no return, and worrying about losing himself in all aspects. Running out of those healthy coping mechanisms that are now tainted by this guilt and weight he carries, as he sinks further and further. Under the water, under the currents of this falling.

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?: Still craving for validation and affection, an ache to not become just a memory in the other's head while they still have much power over him. There's an anxiety that the other will move on, and he will no longer come up in their conversations — maybe even a step above, moving to unfiltered fear. He's still struggling, and he fears that they won't struggle like he is.

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin': The use of again implies that this is a repeating thing, perhaps cyclical. This isn't the first time the speaker has felt himself drowning. Not the first time he's grieved the loss of something, someone, of a relationship — or, rather intensely, the loss of self. And, again, there's an admittance that he's falling, he's fallen, he's drowning, and he's calling out for help in this isolation — but, again, his own voice echoes back around him amidst the spiral.

[VERSE 2] You said you cared, and you missed me too And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you And the coffee's out at the Beachwood Cafe And it kills me 'cause I know we've run out of things we can say

You said you cared, and you missed me too: This feels reminiscent of the bargaining stage of grief, trying to find anything to rectify this sinking feeling, a moment of negotiation. Maybe he's trying to shift his focus to a moment when they were trying to work it out — note the past tense use in the verse itself, for it alludes to reverting to a memory — to temporarily bring a little control to his mind.

And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you: This person is familiar to him, and he can't get them out of his head, no matter how he tries to shake them out. They keep showing up in everything he does, as he continues to allow himself to fall into the habit of them taking control of everything he does. And, truly, I adore this line, from the moment I first heard it, for how honest it is. Almost conversational, too.

And the coffee's out at the Beachwood Cafe / And it kills me 'cause I know we've run out of things we can say: These two lines must stick together. A certain scene materializes in my head with this, and, yes, of course, I'll invite you in.

Picture this: He and the subject have met up to talk. The coffee's out, the coffee has just been served to them at the cafe, steam still rising from the cups and flushing their faces. And, they've already run out of topics to discuss, they are at a loss of what to say to one another (miscommunication). All the two can do is silently stare at their individual coffee mugs.

Or, with a bit of variation: He and the subject are sitting in silence, not knowing where to begin talking to the other, running out of words to try and thread together. And, in the silence, they drink their coffee dry until The coffee's out, and still, no resolution or communicative progress has been made.

This bit in the second verse perfectly illustrates the dread felt when one has fallen out of sync with someone one used to be so connected to, with someone one's known for a while. Someone integral to the other's routines. Showing how you can be together physically, meeting up for coffee at a familiar cafe, but still be far apart emotionally. And, the thought crosses the mind: We're different now?

[CHORUS] What am I now? What am I now? What if I'm someone I don't want around? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin' What if I'm down? What if I'm out? What if I'm someone you won't talk about? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin'

Returning to the chorus, the falling feeling remains prevalent. All these rhetorical questions are put out into the void. Admitting that he is falling, slipping from his own values and identity as he figures out who he is now that he's isolated. Or, falling deep into unhealthy coping mechanisms, as this song seems to allude a time or two or three.

[BRIDGE] And I get the feeling you'll never need me again

A singular line sung, but one of my favorite bridges. As mentioned before, the speaker still clings to this craving for validation and attention from this person, the very same person who has left him sinking — this craving to feel wanted and needed. He knows he's dependent on this other person being in his life, as he's stuck with this doubt of his identity — and the fear that seems, as other lyrics suggest, one-sided. The line, structurally, is fairly simple, but the impact when Harry belts it out is beautiful and unforgettable. It gets me every time.

I think the most important aspect here is the verb — to need. The other won't need him anymore, even if he has convinced himself of their possibility of wanting him at some point. It's been so long since they've grown apart that they've existed apart. Maybe, also, this is a path to him realizing he doesn't need them anymore either. For this bridge to be as gut-wrenching as it is, it's this acceptance of how this other person doesn't need him anymore, but, god, he oh-so-desperately wants them to, and wants them there. And this fear of irrelevance regarding him in their mind haunts him evermore.

[CHORUS VARIATION] What am I now? What am I now? What if you're someone I just want around? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin' What if I'm down? What if I'm out? What if I'm someone you won't talk about? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin'

Another return back to the chorus, but now with a variation. Still framed with rhetorical questions and no answers to be given back to him, a one-man dialogue as he juggles self-admittance and self-hatred. Repeated that one too many times, I fear. But, now, given the addition of What if you're someone I just want around?. Here, in the final reiteration of the chorus to cap off the piece, he leans more into the one thing he's certain about while drowning in this sea of doubts and debates — he just wants them around, and he feels that desperation with certitude. He just wants them around more than he wants to be around himself right now, he just wants to feel their touch and be pulled out. But, he keeps falling. Falling again. In this cyclical plummeting. He's falling again. And again.

dedicated to this anon <3

Thank you for reading, you’re absolutely incredible! If there are any songs you’d like me to make an analysis of, please send your request to my inbox! along with any questions or insights you might have yourself!

[welcome-tothe-madness]

So upset I have yet to see a kuroshitsuji edit to Brutus, like, ARE YOU KIDDING ME.

That song is SOOOO O!Ciel coded.

I could literally do a lyrics breakdown analysis of how each verse correlates with his backstory.

I've been watching him for my entire life

I hate the air he breathes, his foolish decrees

His words so contrived

And I hate the way the townspeople gather outside

They hang on every breath, cling to his chest

Home to his heart full of pride

Obviously, O!Ciel has been forced into his brother’s shadow, and watch how everyone adores his brother while he stays inside alone with a dog

The oracle told him to beware the Ides

And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't wishing

For untimely death or demise

Or am I just wishing I could be like you?

That the people would see me too as a poet

And not just the muse

The oracle could be Undertaker meeting the twins when they were young, foreboding a terrible fate to come. Also, O!Ciel had to face some pretty complicated feelings of being in R!Ciel’s shadow.

Oh, it's not true, I don't wish harm upon you

From birth we've been like brothers of different mothers

Within the spirit of the same womb

May the gods strike me down if I forsake you

Frater meus, you're beautifully made

And to you I'm forever grateful

O!Ciel does not actually wish harm upon his brother, but he does feel immense envy for being born as his sickly spare. But he is grateful to him for being his protector and light

I'll never forget that you showed me to make art

And I know the love you showed me came

From a pure and noble heart

I love you, and if you want, I'll call you King

But why do I lie awake each night thinking

"Instead of you, it should be me"?

O!Ciel knows his brother is kind, noble, and pure, but he cannot help but believe he is the one deserving Earldom

Something wicked this way comes

And as I set to face it, I'm unsure

Should I embrace it, should I run?

What motivates me? Hatred? Is it love?

What's more wrong; that I too wish to be great

Or my mother wished she'd had a son?

And even if I can't be the one

Maybe I could at least help make way for him

Until the day that he comes

Maybe my name could also be known

That I helped return good to the people

And restored greatness to Rome

I believe this could be where Sebastian is introduced and O!Ciel begins to grapple with survivors guilt, his own selfishness, and him forever being changed by what happened. He wants to be the one remembered.

My name is Brutus and my name means heavy

So with a heavy heart

I'll guide this dagger into the heart of my enemy

My whole life, you were a teacher and friend to me

Please know my actions are not motivated only by envy

I, too, have a destiny

This death will be art

The people will speak of this day from near and afar

This event will be history, and I'll be great too

I don't want what you have, I want to be you

I believe these lyrics for the most part are self explanatory, but I think this would be a cool part to bring back O!Ciel witnessing R!Ciel’s death (by a dagger), and him reclaiming his dead brother’s name and family ring

I always knew I could be the one

Though I feel the endless pain of being

And I am scorched by the Sun

Of humble origins and born of the cursed sex

My name is Brutus, but the people will call me Rex

That last lyric is the one that feels like the cherry on top for me. “My name is ___ but the people will call me Ciel” is a good alternative for a potential black butler animatic/edit whatever.

Idk, I’m an artist so I could def be the one to make this happen, but GRRRR I think this song fits him so well it drives me insane I haven’t seen anybody else make the connection

[cantcompetewhereudontcompare]

A complete deconstruction: Louis Tomlinson is a terrible songwriter. Part III

So, we arrived at the last part.

Part I was a deconstruction of this idea that Louis wrote "most 1D songs" and "all the bangers." In part II we talked about how little involvement he had in terms of instrumentation, vocal engineering, melodies, etc, of his own albums. How he got given several songs that were already written, and of the other ones, they mostly came together from a melody someone else wrote.

So what's left in terms of songwriting? The one thing he pats himself on the back for, the one thing Liam gave him (partial) credit for, and the one thing he and hic co-writers agree he actually does participate in (participate is a key word): LYRICS.

[Two of his songs get special treatment you can find that post here]

To be fair, we did a little detour so I could analyze Harry's lyrics first and show you what I value and what I'm critical of in terms of songwriting. Keep in mind, opinion about art is meant to be subjective. This is my taste and my opinions, and you can absolutely disagree.

Initially, I intended to do the same breakdown I did for Harry but for Louis. I also intended to do four songs, and do the different points for each of them.

I had to give up halfway through. I analyzed Kill My Mind and We Made It (and I might post that elsewhere so you can see it). I also intended to do Bigger Than Me and Saturdays, but frankly, I'm simply not going to.

Why? It's just BORING. I'm sorry but it's boring as fuck. I do these posts because they entertain me. I LOVE talking about art more than anything. I love poetry, I love this shit. But Louis' lyrics suck the fun out of it. And no, I'm not being dramatic.

I found myself wanting to compare him with better artists who tackled the topics he did in a more interesting, more compelling way, just so I could stop reading his and analyze interesting art instead. I had to stop myself from inserting Adele, Olivia Rodrigo, The Weeknd, Fleetwood Mac, Pink Floyd, just to name a few.

I found myself irritated, rolling my eyes at my screen.

I had to take so many long breaks, to do literally anything else because the idea of having to analyze his lyrics for two more seconds pained me.

Here's the problem, and I'll break it down for you:

HE'S LAZY.

We're talking about an artist who:

Wears the same outfits and/or the same style of clothes over and over.

Doesn't seem to even brush his hair or do the most minimal effort to look better.

Takes zero care of himself, of his skin, of his hair, of his food intake and diet, of his health.

Doesn't even know his own lyrics.

Has had fourteen years to learn an instrument and to this day hasn't played one live for more than 15 seconds, despite calling himself a musician

Has regressed in terms of vocal capabilities. He could sing better at the beginning of his career with 1D than at the end. And he could sing better at the end of 1D than now.

Doesn't come up with his own melodies, or sometimes, even his own lyrics or concepts.

His idea of an image to project has been "Northern lad from Donny who smokes and curses and gives you the finger and Noel Gallagher and Arctic Monkeys and indie bands" for 8 years with literally zero nuance since then.

Even his photoshoots are lazy. All he does is smolder at the camera wearing some sort of sweatshirt and athletic pants.

His staging is ridiculous, three TVs showing his own zoomed in face in black and white.

He puts zero effort in his career, in his own person, in his own image. I'm 100% sure that I spent more time thinking about his lyrics in the past week than he ever did, and you can absolutely tell.

I tried looking at his rhyming schemes. I compared one song to another, I listened to them (it was painful) trying to find little assonances, and counting syllables to see if he mirrored anything, if he told any stories within them. ANYTHING.

I don't want to cherry pick the worst bits and present them here as a "see, he's bad!" I want my analysis to be fair.

But I simply can't put myself through that. Why?

I'm not going to tell you. I'm going to show you (a concept Louis has never heard of).

RHYMING SCHEMES, CADENCE

[Most times they're either A A B B or A B A B or some slight variation of that. I haven't found a single song where the cadence is thoughtful. To be fair, I'm taking the first verse of the first five songs off each album.]

Album 1, song 1, verse 1:

You're a nightmare on the dance floor And you hate me, and I want more You're a total distraction While I'm waiting for your reaction, why?

A A B B

Album 1, song 2, verse 1

On our way to Twenty Seven Got a place on the other side of London Doing better, doing better And I know you left a part of you In New York under your bed in a box But you're doing better, doing better

???

Album 1, song 4, verse 1 (skipping song 3 because he didn't write it)

Oh my, I remember those nights Meet you at your uni', cheap drinks, drink ’em all night Staying out 'til sunrise Share a single bed and tell each other what we dream about Things we'd never say to someone else out loud We were only kids, just tryna work it out Wonder what they'd think if they could see us now, yeah

A A A B B B B

Album 1, song 5, verse 1

I've been looking back a lot lately Me and you is all I've ever known It’s hard to think you could ever hate me But everything's feeling different now

A B A B

Album 1, song 6, verse 1

Nothing wakes you up like wakin' up alone And all that's left of us is a cupboard full of clothes The day you walked away and took the higher ground Was the day that I became the man that I am now

A A B B

Album 2, song 1, verse 1

Tell you I'm on my way Nothing could make me late Said I had a plan for us Time, it came and changed it all We had to disappear ’Cause nothing gets through here Through that circle 'round my heart Where the best of me should start

A A B C D D E E

This is just a variation of A A B B C C, it's just that two sentences don't rhyme, for seemingly no artistic reason.

Album 2, song 2, verse 1

When you don't want coffee in the morning I know I'm in a hole It's hard enough to get you sober Got no chance if I'm hungover I ain't even woken up yet Not nearly vertical All I know is I'm in trouble 'Cause the atmosphere's so cold, so

A B C C D E E E

Basically, just A A B B B, with some sentences not rhyming.

I will commend the last syllable of "vertical" rhyming with "cold" and the first sentence of "trouble" as well. But the fact that the only reason he added "vertical" was to make that rhyme, because it adds nothing to the song "I ain't even woken up yet" already conveyed the same thought, kinda ruins it for me. IDK

Album 2, song 3, verse 1

I didn't read the signs Walkin' different lines I know I took a left Tryna make it right

A A B A

I'll give him that "left" could be done for artistic reasons, like, the only sentence that doesn't rhyme and it's him talking about making a mistake. I don't know that he's capable of being this thoughtful, or that he could even come up with it. But let's pretend. This is also poorly executed and I'll expand later.

Album 2, song 4, verse 1

You give and give until it's gone away Just tell yourself you've got another day You've lived that life, you just don't see it yet I see how hard you've worked to be yourself

A A B B

Album 2, song 5, verse 1

Good and bad and right and wrong Are stories made up when we're young to scare us Love and hate are in-between Depends on your reality to see them

A A B B

---

EFFECTIVITY AND COMFORTABILITY OF THE RHYMES + NONSENSICAL AND NARRATIVE ELEMENTS

[I combined all of it together because I started doing just the rhymes and then I just got distracted by his nonsense. So have it all together. Also, I'm doing nearly every song and the ones I skip, I explain why.]

Kill My Mind

You're a nightmare on the dance floor

Cliché

And you hate me, and I want more

'Nother cliché.

You're a total distraction While I'm waiting for your reaction, why?

Distraction from what? Reaction to what? You just wanted to rhyme these words didn't you? Cause they look similar? Cause this makes no sense in context.

The devil in my brain

CLICHEEEEE

Whispering my name

Why is he whispering your name if he's already inside your brain? Wouldn't he be whispering something more interesting? Like, idk "do crime"? Or, given the theme of this song "do drugs"?

I can hear it sayin', "Ah, ah, ah"

The fuck does "Ah, ah, ah" mean? It doesn't make sense in the context of the song either.

Kept me living From the last time From a prison of a past life On a mission just to feel like When you kissed me for the last time, why?

I put the whole verse in just to be 100% fair. The last two sentences make sense by themselves, but the first three are nonsensical. He clearly just wanted to rhyme prison and mission, which don't even form a perfect rhyme (different consonants).

And ya won't let go of your hold on me And I don't know what I'd do without you now

Not criticism, but commentary, and I'm being completely serious. This is quite worrisome to write in a song that's seemingly about substance abuse. Just saying.

[I'm skipping DLIBYH because it's getting special treatment. He didn't write Two Of Us.]

We Made It

'Cause we made it Underestimated And always underrated

Underestimated and underrated mean the same fucking thing. This isn't an essay — you don't need to hit a specific word count. What's the fucking need to just pad these songs?

Now we’re saying goodbye Waving to the hard times Yeah, it's gonna be alright

Just unnecessarily splitting a single thought into two "We're waving the hard times goodbye."

If any of this was actually poetic instead of at the level of eighth grade lit class, when Ms. Smith tries to get her students into poetry and asks them to submit their own attempts, I wouldn't say anything.

It's just bad, juvenile. It's beginner levels. This man has been "writing" songs for over a decade, and he gets paid handsomely to do so.

I measure things by average pop song. He's significantly worse than that.

Like the first time Met you at your doorstep Remember how it tasted Looking into your eyes Baby, you were still high Never coming down with your hand in mine

And how did the doorstep taste, Louis?

Too Young

I've been looking back a lot lately Me and you is all I've ever known It’s hard to think you could ever hate me But everything's feeling different now

Verb tenses are kicking his fucking ass. It WAS hard to believe she'd ever hate you. In the past. It's not hard to believe now. Because she hates you now. And you are writing the song now.

["Me and you is all I've ever known" is a rampant cliché, but I'll overlook it]

Also how awkward is the wording "everything's feeling different now"? Everything feels different now?

Let me give it a whirl...

I've been looking back a lot lately Me and you is all I've ever known Would've never believed you could hate me But all the love you had for me seems to be gone

It's certainly not a masterpiece. I'm working with the constrictions of his metrics, melodies, rhymes, corny ass themes, and... I'm not a professional songwriter. Also, I'm not getting paid to do this. But at least this not only rhymes and fits the metric, but also... MAKES GRAMMATICAL SENSE.

Walls

Nothing wakes you up like wakin' up alone

Nothing makes you hurt like hurtin' who you love

Nothing makes you run, like running out of time

See? I can do it too.

It's giving, I'm 14 and this is deep.

Sorry, I know I'm verging on bitch eating crackers territory, but godddd this is so cornyyy

But these high walls, they came up short Now I stand taller than them all These high walls never broke my soul And I, I watched them all come fallin' down I watched them all come fallin' down for you, for you

The whole song is corny, which, whatever, it's a pop song. Pop songs are often corny. It's fine. Now, can I ask a question?

Why would walls break one's soul?

I would leave it as a funny quip, and be done with it, but I'll explain the problem with his simile/metaphor.

First of all, where did the walls come from? This is the first verse:

Nothing wakes you up like wakin' up alone And all that's left of us is a cupboard full of clothes The day you walked away and took the higher ground Was the day that I became the man that I am now

The chorus about the walls comes right after. Did she erect (hehe) Walls around herself when she left? Cause there's no other explanation as to where the walls came from. If the song was about him overcoming those walls and getting back with her, that'd be something that makes sense. Slightly overdone, but it'd make sense.

Well, it's not. The bridge seals it (we'll get that in a second). He's saying that because he overcame those walls, he became a better person. So did she erect (hehe) walls around... him?

Huh, little bit kidnappy. But let's roll with it. So he's using the metaphor of her, I guess building a wall around him, for some fuckass reason. A physical wall that he physically overpowers because he becomes taller and it's too short for him.

So how can a physical wall break your soul? The metaphor here would be switching from physical to spiritual. A metaphor that already doesn't make a ton of sense, now makes even less so.

The bridge, though....

So this one is a thank you for what you did to me

What did she do to you? You haven't said. All you mention is her leaving after you hurt her. Doesn't seem like she did much of anything TO you. It seems like YOU did this. Or are you actually claiming that she trapped you inside short-ish walls? If this song is attempting to be sincere and not sarcastic (I think it's sincere?) then wouldn't it be better to say "for what you did FOR me"?

Why is it that "thank you"s are so often bittersweet?

Are they? Since when?? Says who??

I just hope I see you one day, and you say to me, "Oh, oh"

You want her to say "oh, oh"? The fuck does that mean? After this comes the chorus, so he's the one talking about overcoming walls again. She doesn't say anything other than "oh, oh". Whatever the fuck that means.

[I just have to laugh because the rhymes, cadence, and rhyming scheme of this are piss poor, the melody is interpolated from three different Oasis songs (Acquiesce, Stop Crying Your Heart Out, and Cast No Shadow,) and the music video is directly lifted from a fourth, different Oasis music video for the song Live Forever. Add to that that the lyrics are completely nonsensical and you have the "Louis is a great songwriter and artist" bingo.

NO HE'S NOT.]

Habit

You're the shiver that I can't shake

You give me the time and the space I was out of control And I'm sorry I let you down I guess that I know what I already knew I was better with you And I miss you now

Not going to criticize this because it's just your run of the mill pop song, but I can't help it, this whole song is giving

Always You

I went to so many places Looking for you in their faces

He's INCAPABLE of show don't tell, isn't he?

By show don't tell I mean:

Woke up the girl who looked just like you I almost said your name

Show me that you see her face in someone else. Don't tell me.

Arctic Monkeys has a whole song about this:

I thought I saw you in the Battleship But it was only a look-a-like She was nothing but a vision trick Under the warning light She was close, close enough to be your ghost But my chances turned to toast When I asked her if I could call her your name

I'm not specifically talking about this lyric in particular when I say "show don't tell", btw. It's just that that's his vibe so much of the time and it irritates me. I'm not saying he never "shows". I'm obviously being hyperbolic, and I'm not saying you ALWAYS have to show instead of tell, either. I just think he misses a ton of opportunities to be a little more poetic that would very much elevate his lyrics.

Seeing your ex's face on someone else is a commonly used trope, which can become corny and cliché or poetic depending on how you communicate it. He chose corny and cliché.

Fearless

This is a lyrically sound song. No notes. I don't necessarily agree with his view of things — I think he has a very narrow view of what succeeding in life can be, but it's a well-written song. Lyrically, sonically it's BORINNNNG.

Perfect Now

If you are a fan of his and you're reading this... first of all, wow, that should count as masochism. Second of all, I hope you remember when I was very nice just now. Because I'm about to be a bitch.

You say to me your jeans don't fit

You don't feel pretty and it's hard to miss

'Cause everybody's lookin' at you now, my, oh my

I guess some queens don't need a crown

Listen, I'm no stranger to men writing weird ass lyrics about women. Harry did write "Couldn't take you home to mother in a skirt that short" after all (at least he tried to redeem himself with "but I think that's what I like about it"). But JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.

Not only is the jeans bit a weird ass fucking thing for a man to write that about a woman in the 2020s (to be frank, it was weird when Ed Sheeran wrote it in Little Things in 2012, so imagine now), but also, how cringe was it for him to still be doing that at almost 30?

Don't even get me started with the "Some queens don't need a crown" shit. That would've been corny and overdone if Elvis had sung it in the 50s.

Also

You never stop given half the chance

Cliché

Even when your tears are fallin' down Still, somehow, you're perfect now

Keep your head up, love, keep your head up

Cliché

You make me feel like being someone good to you

....? What? So it's up to her to... make you... feel... like being good to her? Is that not your default setting?

Every insecurity, like a neon sign, as bright as day If you knew what you were to me You would never try to hide away

No, yeah, I'm sure all her deep rooted problems with insecurity, which likely stem from patriarchy and the impossible standard women have to fulfill, would magically be solved if she understood that you like, REALLY fancy her. You're the center of the fucking universe, after all!

Throw this entire song in the trash. Burn it. Then bury the ashes. Jesus fuck, he's such a fucking asshole.

Defenceless

I come runnin' to you like a moth into a flame

This is the first sentence, y'all..

We're sleepin' on our problems like we'll solve them in our dreams We wake up early morning and they're still under the sheets

He probably thought this was so deep. Hell, his fans probably think this is deep too.

Obviously, the point is that you're not going to solve your problems if you sleep on them (double meaning because "sleeping on" something means ignoring it). My point is that it's the type of analogy your Uber driver makes at 3 AM when he picks you up after a night out with friends, and that's the only context in which this analogy sounds thoughtful in any way.

The main problem I have with this brand of lyric of his is that he takes it seriously and so do his fans. Nobody thinks "You can't bribe the door on your way to the sky" is Nietzsche or treats it at such. Perhaps it touches you personally and that's valid, but it's just a cool song, at the end of the day.

Never been so defenceless (Oh) Never been so defenceless (Ooh) You just keep on buildin' up your fences (Oh) But I've never been so defenceless (Ooh)

Tell me he didn't just rhyme "defenceless" with "fences"...

I've been holding my tongue but it's so fucking obvious that his first instinct is to rhyme words that visually look like they might rhyme. That's the level we're working with.

[He didn't write Only The Brave so we're skipping it too.]

The Greatest

Time, it came and changed it all

[Noun] [comma] it [did thing]

Abolish that sentence structure unless you're willing to make it interesting.

Also this is a cliché.

’Cause nothing gets through here Through that circle 'round my heart Where the best of me should start

The fuck does this mean?

It's you and me until the еnd

Cliché

Your face reminded me Of a love you cannot hide

It SHOWED you, not reminded you.

Writing a song "for your fans" is corny as fuck.

[Written All Over Your Face will get special treatment, so we're skipping it.]

Bigger Than Me

When somebody told me I would change

Who told you you would change? People in general? If it's people in general why not just say that? If it was a specific person why are you being vague?

I used to hide behind a smile When somebody told me I would change I was afraid, I don't know why

Something about the "I don't know why" rhyme is so fucking juvenile, but I can't put my finger on why.

'Cause so does the world outside, I've realised

Sorry, not a commentary on how good or bad the lyrics are, but is he saying "I was afraid of changing but I don't know why since the world changes too"?

His emotional intelligence is sub-zero isn't it?

I know I took a left Tryna make it right

Even hen he's trying to do wordplay he just smacks you in the face with it.

I'm not exactly a fan of Taylor Swift's, but Louis' fans often compare him to her, and...

The woman has many, many flaws as an artist (to be fair, all artists do), but when she wants to, she can write a mean lyric, and Louis CANNOT.

Everybody moved on, I stayed there. Dust collected on my pinned-up hair. They expected me to find somewhere, some perspective, but I sat and stared right where you left me. You left me no, oh. You left me no choice but to stay here forever.

THAT is wordplay.

Right and left but not meaning right and left in the directional sense

"I'm where you left me" meaning, in the physical place you dropped something

"You left me" meaning, you abandoned something, ended a relationship

"You left me no choice", meaning, I had no other option

Even a poppy Sabrina Carpenter song has more thought put into it:

We were goin' right, then you took a left Left me with a lot of shit to second-guess

She starts it off as lazy as Louis but she actually adds it a little something something.

When I say his music is worse than the average pop song...

I've woken up from my sleep

Cliché

[Blanket statements about me pointing out clichés. They're not necessarily bad. To some degree, they're unavoidable, especially with a large body of work. Unless I really go in on it, I'm just pointing out when he uses them to keep track of it. Like I said, having clichés, commonplaces, common tropes, etc, is normal. What's not normal is how often he does it]

All of these voices, all of these choices I don't hear them anymore

You don't hear the choices?

[Blanket statement about me pointing out small nonsensical elements. Pop songs tend to say some shit here and there. The problem is the frequency of his nonsense, and sometimes the levels of it. The lack of better elements is also a problem.]

'Cause, yeah, I mighta changed But everybody does

Do they? Oh wow.

Now I realise that the world outside Is bigger than me

Is it? Oh wow.

He made an entire song about realizing that the world is bigger than him.

This is what the song is supposed to be about:

As the lead single from Louis Tomlinson’s sophomore studio album, Faith in the Future, “Bigger Than Me” finds itself as an anthemic pop/rock song, on which Tomlinson sings about letting go of self-doubt, personal growth and shutting down the negative voices.

Lucky Again

If you believe that guy is Superman They're selling tickets at the cinema

Is he trying to say, like, "I have a bridge to sell you"? Cause nobody says it this way. I checked.

I'm so confused.

Whatever gets you through the darkest night

Cllché

Just find the light out in the madness, hold tight

Cllché

'Cause I'm a hard man to lose

Does this mean that it's bad to lose him? Or that he's hard to lose as in, he's got an airtag on him? A third thing I can't think of?

The rest of the verse doesn't help with context:

But I figured it out, then made my way back To a life I would choose We werе lucky once, I could be lucky again

Beforе the world, it got so serious

[Noun] [comma] it [did thing]

Before the time, it got away from us

This combination is lethal.

[Noun] [comma] it [did thing] + an incredibly overused idiom

Face The Music

Good and bad and right and wrong Are stories made up when we're young to scare us

No they're not???

Love and hate are in-between Depends on your reality to see them

Is this purposefully idiotic or am I just not getting it? Love and hate are not in-between. He's just saying things atp.

I just wanna stay in the moment the rest of my life

Cliché. A good excuse as any to listen to this awesome song:

I don't wanna face the music, but I still wanna dance with you

This is a cliché ("face the music") but the lyric is cute (and I'm not being facetious).

Close your eyes and count to ten If you're standin' on the edge of fallin' Open up and looking down Everything that matters is forgotten

Huh?

Chicago

They say bitter ends turn sweet in time

Who says that? This is the first time I ever hear these words put together this way.

You always made me feel much bеtter And I'll always be grateful for that

So many of his lyrics sound like he's texting (derogatory)

All This Time

I'm tryna find the words to say for ages

Cliché

It's not how you spend the time, it's if you waste it

Coooooorny ass cliché

And I keep on building mountains hoping that they'll turn to gold

Well that's fucking stupid. Why would mountains turn to gold? Where did you even get that they'd do that?

Also how are you BUILDING mountains? Who the fuck BUILDS mountains? Do you know what mountains are? And what "building" means?

It's the way we see ourselves through walls of trees

You guys, what the hell is he banging on about? What does this MEAN?

I keep looking up the things he writes just to see if I'm missing some context or some popular British saying. I'm not British! British people are weird! But no. It's just that he's writing nonsense.

Writing nonsense is FINE if that's your stylistic choice. I LOOOOVE Oasis and they write some of the most nonsensical garbage you could ever imagine, but

1- The music fucking slaps

2- It's not meant to be read as diaristic or biographical. It's also not meant to be read as a straightforward story or whatever. It's meant to be flowery and a little esoteric.

Louis went on and on about honest lyrics, and how little he liked metaphors, and how he didn't like exactly the type of lyric Oasis tends to write (all while claiming that Oasis wrote the type of lyrics he does like, because he's fucking stupid — I made a whole post about that).

It doesn't even feel like he's trying to be metaphorical and weird or flowery here anyway? It just feels like he's stupid and says stupid shit that doesn't make sense, all the while actively trying to make sense.

Also, Oasis' nonsense is more poetic, but it has it's own worldbuilding and logic. It's not outright dumb like "building mountains," so there's that.

Out Of My System

Take anything you can carry And leave everythin' else behind

Cliché

I am only half of what I think I can be

Are ya? Then why don't you try to better yourself? Cause that's my main issue with your entire existence. I personally think you're way too much for how little talent and hard work you put into things.

Gotta get it off of my chest

Cliché

I've lived a lot of my life already But I gotta get through the rest

Am I being too bitch eating crackers? Yes, Louis, you have to get through the rest. That is how life works.

Demons, I'm takin' all of my demons Putting them where I won't see them 'Cause I just wanna feel alive

This is such a confusing metaphor. What do you mean by taking? Taking them off? Taking them with you? What do you mean "putting them where I won't see them?" Like, what does it mean in the context of this metaphor? What do your demons have to do with feeling alive?

Having demons is a commonplace about struggling with stuff (it can be mental health, family issues, personality issues, a number of different things). It doesn't typically have anything to do with "feeling alive" or not.

I'm not saying these lyrics are necessarily invalid? I just think he could've taken a little longer to develop this metaphor more and make it click better and easier. I'm having trouble interpreting what he's trying to say here, and I don't think it's lack of trying or being pedantic. I think I'm being pretty fair, and in all.

[He didn't write Headline so I'm skipping it.]

Saturdays

I'm not supposed to be Feelin' dirty cheap on Silver Street At quarter to three

Why not? I mean, the feeling dirty cheap I get. Yeah, you're not supposed to feel that way. That's sad. I'm sorry that happened, bro.

But why aren't you supposed to be on Silver Street at a quarter-to-three? For the record, Silver Street is a street in Doncaster that's lined with a bunch of clubs. If you're ver gonna be on Silver Street, it's likely to be at a quarter-to-three. And I see nothing wrong with going clubbing once in a while.

Is he trying to say that he's not supposed to feel dirty cheap on Silver Street because he's out clubbing? But then why add the time? Would it be okay to feel dirty cheap when out clubbing if it was a little earlier?

I am being pedantic now, btw. Why? Because there are ways to write this that make it clear that the problem is with how he feels while being out with friends. Incredible songwriters, such as what Louis and his fans claim he is, would do that. Not just use the first combination of words that rhymes and fits the metric.

Hidden across my face In the crowd, I'm countin' up the days

What's hidden across his face? He never clarifies. Something is hidden. A feeling? A scar? A mole? A crowd can't hide across your face, and these sentences come right after the ones I just quoted, and are followed by:

In a haze I'm gazin' at the floor Somebody's got your trainers on The ones that you wore When you walked out the door

Still on the last two sentences: maybe he's trying to convey that him feeling dirty cheap is hidden across his face? If he's trying to do that, he failed.

The new bits I added now are alright. "In a haze I'm gazing at the floor, somebody's got your trainers on" is pretty good, actually. I personally would've said "the ones you had on when you walked out the door," instead of "the ones that you wore when you walked out the door." It just feels more sentence like. Because of the melody of this song, he tends to pause between sentences, so the way he wrote it feels like he's saying "somebody's got your trainers on, the ones that you wore." Which would be very redundant. What he's saying is that someone's wearing the exact shoes she wore when she left him.

Like I said, he suffers from chronic Not Taking The Time To Edit And Perfect His Lyrics. That's what I'm trying to point out here.

The feeling he's trying to convey is actually interesting and relatable, and the lyrics aren't necessarily BAD. They just aren't that good and can lend to confusion, especially given the cadence of the song. It wouldn't take a lot of work to make these lyrics be excellent and elevate the song, but alas...

Nobody stays the same No matter how much you want it Some things change

Cliché. And annoying at that.

Through my cigarette A shadow of you sticks me to the carpet Try to ignore it

??

Somethin' about the way The light catches the mirror in my brain It gives me shade

What?

Silver Tongues

Gettin' high on the amber wave

This is presumably about beer. You get drunk on beer, not high, Louis. If he's trying to wordplay like he's high (as in, physically) on the "wave" then he needs to find a way to close the metaphor. He could've said "getting under the amber wave." When you're drunk, you're under the influence.

Going deep for the ones who do the same

He could've continued the metaphor with this if he had used "under" instead of "high." You're under, and you get deeper. If you're high, you're not deep, because high means up. Yes, I am being bitchy. Thank you for noticing. I'm fed up.

Not to mention this sentence is confusing. What does "going deep" even mean in this context?

Air Maxes and silver tongues Settle in for another heavy one

Another heavy one what...? It's not clear in context.

You said love was a pretty lie And I choked when your smoke got in my eye Bad logic and empty cans

I can't decide if he's being clever or dumb. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt that he's saying "bad logic" because you can't choke from getting smoke in your eye, but he's said so much dumb nonsensical shit in his lyrics that I don't know.

Let's give him this one. This, that one sentence from Face The Music, and Fearless are the only lyrics of his that I find good so far.

I know nobody understands Me like you do

Cliché (tolerable)

You know, when I'm with you, I'm so much happier

Cliché (also tolerable)

You smile at me and say, "It's time to go" But I don't feel like goin' home

Cliché (tolerable)

You and me until the end

Cliché (alright cut it out)

Wakin' up to start again

Cliché (....)

There's nowhere else that I would rather be

Cliché, verging on intolerable with how many there are in a row.

Also excuse to put another huge and much better song

She Is Beauty We Are Word Class

Conversation is currency

Okay, interesting! Where is this going?

Shapes become a language

Uh... letters are technically shapes, and letters form words in multiple languages?

Square eyes and sunglasses

Is this a Keep Driving type of song? I can get behind those, but I'm not following right now.

Finding faces in the trees Fabricated fairytales Bring a new world to life Sit down, sit down in the space and time

I'm so confused.

She is beauty And we are world-class (Oh) Forever We let the feeling last

That's the chorus. Small tangent.

In Keep Driving, the first verse lists things that seem random until you hit the chorus.

A small concern with how the engine sounds. We held darkness in withheld clouds. I would ask "Should we just keep driving?"

Essentially, the engine sounds like it's about to break, and the darkness in the clouds show that there's a storm coming, but he stubbornly asks if they should keep going regardless. The part about darkness and clouds seems to indicate "a storm coming" isn't just literally coming in the real world, but also in the relationship.

The analogy is, driving in a car that's about to break, but not doing anything about it, and finding yourself stuck in the middle of a storm because you didn't act when you should've, and comparing that to a relationship.

Anyway, it seems that whoever he's talking to is as stubborn as he is, because he continues to list things in the second verse, particularly "pancakes for two" and "I will always love you."

The singing (the way he sings) gets a little more intense in the bridge. And the things he lists get more unhinged. It starts off listing things that makes it sound like a road trip ("passports in footwells"), which makes the parallel meaning of the song take even more form and makes the other things he listed in the verses make more sense (sunglasses, cameras, breakfast items, etc).

Continuing with the bridge, there are little things that allude to the summer of 2020, "tea with cyborgs" is most likely a reference to doing zoom calls with your loved ones during quarantine, and "Riot America" to the Black Lives Matter movement, which hit its peak in May-June 2020. "Life hacks going viral in the bathroom" is a literal thing that happened during quarantine, particularly on TikTok.

There's allusions to sex ("choke her with a sea view" and "side boob") and to substances ("puff pass" "edibles" "cocaine" "wine glass").

Then "tootache", "bad move", "just act normal" show us that something is going wrong. Following the theme of the song, he ends the bridge with "it's all good, hey you" and then the outro just says "should we just keep driving", signaling that, despite the fact that there's clearly issues, they'll continue to ignore them, and closing the metaphor fully.

I think Keep Driving is a brilliant song, perfectly executed. And if Louis were writing something like that, I'd commend him. Music and poetry within it gives you so many possibilities. Not everything has to be narrative-driven.

The problem that I have is that I just cannot make sense of this song at all.

This is the second verse:

Escape the inevitable Fade into light Soak up the empathy 'Cause I’m with you tonight

I'm sorry, but what is he talking about? There doesn't seem to be a thread that connects any of this.

Are we one or are we two? Are we me or are we you? Have we been all this before? Do you see what I see?

Is it a stream of consciousness type of thing? Cause I can get behind those too, but typically, the songs are, you know, better.

Like, I'm not gonna analyze this song super closely if that's what it's meant to be doing because I respect a stream of consciousness 100%, but I will judge the fact that the song is ass. If you're gonna do stream of consciousness you have to write a banger song.

This is one of my favorite songs by Oasis:

For those who might be reading this long ass essay out of curiosity and aren't familiar with Louis' song, well, I don't recommend it, but you can find it here.

Common People

I came from a good home A house full of terrace dreams That was enough for me You know, you had to see it to believe

"Gotta see it to believe" implies something unbelievable, weird. What is so unbelievable about a good home?

All the late nights, good times

Cliché

No deep pockets, but big hearts

Cliché

This song is pointless and boring.

Angels Fly

Nothin' really matters Nothin' really hurts We can talk about it It'll only make it worse

Jesus Christ, who pissed in your cereal? Not commentary on the quality of the lyrics, but my god.

If every star is an eye in the sky You'll see angels fy

Put the pain behind you now You don't need it anymore

BOOOOOO. Cliché

Holding On To Heartache

You said I wear it like a crown

Cliché

You should be starin' at the sky The birds just passin' by, love

This song is apparently about how much he misses being in 1D, which...

These two sentences I'm quoting do absolutely nothing to further the narrative and I'm not sure what the point of including them was other than not actually having to think and make an effor to come up with something relevant.

I can still hear a clock that's tickin'

Cliché

You know the party's over When you're standin' in an empty space alone

Not commentary on the quality of the lyrics, but yes, he's literally this meme (derogatory):

And time can always heal you If you let it make its way into your bones

Why'd you have to go and make things so complicated? Time can always heal you if you let it. End of. Why does time have to get into your bones? What kind of weird ass, unnecessary metaphor even is this? Just not wanting to think of a better, more compelling way to word things and sticking with the first sentence that fits the metric.

Nothing's ever easy

Plenty of things are easy. This adds nothing to the song or its meaning. You're just saying things.

[Writing this song three years after his admitted BFF said that he would've died if he had stayed in the band feels pretty fucking selfish. He's allowed to feel however he feels, but there was no need to externalize it constantly, especially knowing how much Liam was struggling...]

That's The Way Love Goes

Cool, simple song lyrically speaking. Nothing amazing and there are a couple of clichéd sayings, but it's fine! Lyrically one of his best alongside Fearless. It's a little boring musically speaking (better than Fearless, though), nothing to write home about, it could be better if he wasn't the one singing it. His voice really does ruin everything.

Change

This song is cliché o'clock:

Time of our lives

it's easy to see

We were just gettin' by

If you need, you can call on me

I'll be the friend you need

'Cause everything's changed outside, but I feel the same inside

The kids are alright

When we gonna realise we don't get another life?

I know it'll be alright

We've still got the rest of our lives

'Cause we're all the same inside

If he was trying to do a song full of idioms that'd be so cool. Like Better Than Words in 1D. But he's not trying to do that. There are a bunch of sentences here that aren't idioms. He's just fucking lazy.

The theme of the song is so boring too. Nothing's changed, I mean, some things changed, which I hate, but also I miss it, and I'm from Doncaster did you know?

----

Okay, I was gonna do High In California, but it's just a song about smoking weed, and I refuse to analyze that lyrically. I was also gonna do Miss You, Back To You, Just Like You, and Copy of a Copy of a Copy... I'm not going to. I'm bored and annoyed and I wanna be done with this.

You can find the analysis I mentioned of Written All Over Your Face and Don't Let It Break Your Heart IN THIS LINK.

---

FINAL THOUGHTS:

I think I have proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that Louis is a lazy songwriter who doesn't put too much thought into his lyrics, which are the only part where he has any actual participation (going from what he and his collaborators have said about the process so far and the liner notes in his albums).

You can feel like the lyrics touch you or you feel represented by them or whatever, that's absolutely fine. I'm not judging that. What I'm judging is how apt of a songwriter he is technically speaking. I can't judge vibes. Vibes are personal.

Technically speaking, he's terrible. Like, downright one of the worst I've ever had the displeasure of listening to.

With that, I bid you goodbye.

PS I have not proofread this monster of a post. I might do it in the future. I've had this written for a few days, and decided to post it on New Year's as a gift for those of you (all five of you! haha) who enjoy my content. Thank you

[foxes-that-run]

I’m a big believer that William Bowery is HS. When I listen to Champagne problems it sounds almost like an apology or an acknowledgement of the sadness directed towards CH for not accepting his proposal (which she’s given us Easter eggs to- the words NO written in diamonds in look what you made me do with a ring case). As much of a dick CH seemed and how she allegedly went back to HS I kind love thinking that now as an adult she could look back and not have regret for saying no but show understanding for how that must have felt

or im delulu

Hi Anon,

Wow I never knew about the No and jewelry box in LAWYMMD! The locket seems to point to CH too. It tracks, he was 32, they dated for a year and she was good for his career. But I don't think she cares enough for him for Champagne Problems to be about him. She doesn't hold back in I did something bad or high infidelity about him and he had gone on Twitter calling himself a beard.

I really like this analysis of Champagne Problems

I associate Joe with Champagne Problems, I believe he proposed and that he was rejected. I find he fits the best because of the dorm (HS and CH didn't go to university) and splashing out on the bottle (CH and HS have always been multi-multi-millionaires while dating her so I imagine Dom Perignon is not the best they would choose). Booking the night train to wallow could also be Joe.

Something else I find interesting in Champagne Problems is the scales at 4mins in, right at the end. Harry has a tendency to add a flourish to the end of his songs, like the coco’s and Camille voice note in Cherry, vocalisations at the end of FTDT and Super Pretty and Fine Line crescendo, whistling at the end of canyon moon. It’s not something I associate with Taylor or Jack.

I remember when I first heard this song, I was floored, I wondered if it was the end of her and Joe. In hindsight I think it was because of the subject matter and how William Bowery unfolded, but it took a long slow death to get there. However, I think WB wrote the melody on Piano and Taylor the Lyrics.

I am endlessly fascinated how it went from dropping easter eggs on WBs identity to declaring it Joe. Then giving him a production credit rather than a writing one and that being the end of it. Also how it came to be that that was the end of them other than a handful of sporadic sightings.

Then she also said "I wouldn't marry me either" in Your loosing me, I wonder if she later asked to marry him after being turned down?

[mtdthoughts]

Possible References to The Carpenters (Migi & Dali Analysis)

Before I begin, I'd like to credit and dedicate this post to the wonderful @moscasines for messaging me and pointing out the series of observations that will be discussed below. This post would not be possible without your help, so thank you very much! 🫶

As always, spoilers for Migi & Dali are discussed!

This post is also a bit on the longer side...

To begin, the subject of this post is The Carpenters, an American vocal and instrumental duo consisting of Karen Carpenter and her older brother Richard Carpenter. You can find more info on Wikipedia here.

The Carpenter siblings started their career in 1965 and achieved major success in the soft rock, easy listening, and adult contemporary music genres with hit singles such as "(They Long to Be) Close to You" and "We've Only Just Begun".

They've also toured continually in the 1970s, including in Japan where they performed at the famous Budokan in 1974.

This article gives some interesting insights into The Carpenter's influence in Japan, and I'd recommend checking it out! Namely, the Carpenters were known for their melody-oriented sound production that fits Japanese sensibilities, excellent vocals and English pronunciation, and their songs that give off the image of a good old American family.

In fact, the 1972 song "Top of the World" by The Carpenters was used as the theme song in the 1995 hit Japanese TV Drama "Miseinen" ("Under Age"), showing how The Carpenters' influence persisted in Japan even after their joint career abruptly ended in 1983 with Karen's tragic death from heart failure brought on by complications of anorexia.

Anyway, because of The Carpenters' influence in Japan, it is possible that Sano may have taken inspiration from them and their songs when creating Migi & Dali, and here are some possible references:

One of the characters is literally named Karen, who also possesses musical talent but specifically with the piano. As it turns out, Karen Carpenter is four years younger than her piano prodigy brother Richard, which seems to around the same age gap between Karen and Eiji. Furthermore, some have claimed that the root cause of Karen's anorexia was her overbearing, perfectionist mother who clearly favored her 'musical genius' brother Richard; this idea seems to parallel Reiko's obvious favoritism for Eiji and her relative disdain for Karen, someone who "never resembled Akira or Reiko" ---

One of the most iconic foods in the story other than cherry pie and omelet is jambalaya, which was featured in the first chapter and Episode of Migi & Dali. Interestingly, The Carpenters featured Hank William's song "Jambalaya (On the Bayou)" on their album 1973 album Now & Then, which sold well in the US, UK, and Japan. The song is about lost love, life, parties, and Cajun cuisine. ---

The fact that the Carpenters are American, plus the remark about the songs giving off the the image of a good old American family could somewhat explain why the setting of Migi & Dali resembles a (relatively affluent) American suburb. ---

"(They Long to Be) Close to You" is song expressing the yearning to be close to someone you love, emphasizing how special and unique that person is. Some of the lyrics are particularly interesting, such as "Why do birds suddenly appear / Every time you are near?" and "So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold / And starlight in your eyes of blue", with birds being Akiyama's fascination and "hair of gold" and "eyes of blue" describing the twins' appearance. Perhaps this song references the Sonoyamas' and Akiyama's longing to be close to the twins. ---

"Rainy Days and Mondays" is a melancholic song that describes one's feeling of melancholy and loneliness and being unable to fit in, but finding comfort in knowing that another person loves them. Some notable lyrics are "What I've got they used to call the blues / Nothin' is really wrong / Feelin' like I don't belong" and "Funny, but it seems that I always wind up here with you / Nice to know somebody loves me". This could be a reference to the loneliness that Dali suffers, though he does find comfort in Migi's love for him. ---

"Top of the World" is an upbeat and joyful song about the feeling of being on top of the world due to being in love. It could be a reference to Migi's infatuation with Sali. ---

"Superstar" expresses longing and heartache, telling the story of someone yearning for a lost love using the example of a fan and a rock star. Some lyrics that stand out are "Don't you remember, you told me you loved me, baby? / You said you'd be coming back this way again, baby". This song could be a reference to Migi's feelings towards Sali, especially after Migi was rejected for Eiji. ---

"Ticket to Ride", a song by The Beatles that the Carpenters covered, is about someone leaving a relationship with a metaphorical ticket to ride, claiming that her partner was holding her down and that she would never be free, as her partner is left upset singing that "my baby don't care". This song could be a reference to Migi's separation from Dali as Migi literally rides away with his new freedom. ---

"Goodbye to Love" explores the sadness of lost love and the realization that one might not find love again, and one notable lyric is "I'll say goodbye to love / No one ever cared if I should live or die". It could be a reference to Dali when he believed that Migi would never love him again (especially when he was about to die), or to Eiji after he killed Reiko, believing he had no one left. ---

"Hurting Each Other" is a ballad that addresses the pain and difficulty of a troubled relationship where both parties are emotionally harming each other despite their love for each other. It could be a reference to some aspects of the twins' relationship, including their fight where they literally hurt each other despite their love for each other. ---

"We've Only Just Begun" explores the optimism of a couple beginning their new life together while mixing cautious introspection for the future. Some notable lyrics are "Before the risin' sun, we fly / So many roads to choose" and "And when the evening comes, we smile / So much of life ahead". It could be a reference to the twins' reconciliation after their fight, heading towards their happiness despite the danger ahead. ---

"Merry Christmas, Darling" is about the longing and fervent desire to spend Christmas together with a loved one that is apart. Some lyrics that stand out are "Merry Christmas, darling / We're apart, that's true / But I can dream and in my dreams / I'm Christmasing with you". This could be a reference to Migi's desire to live together with Dali while Dali was isolating himself in the shadows. ---

"Please Mr. Postman", a song by the Marvelettes that The Carpenters covered, is about the excitement, impatience, and eagerness of waiting for news of a loved one far away. It could be a reference to the twins in the short sequel manga. ---

In general, many songs that were covered and sung by The Carpenters share themes of love, lost love, longing, and loneliness, which also happen to be important themes in Migi & Dali.

I encourage the reader (including myself) to check out all of the songs I listed and more, as it's very fascinating to notice all the different connections to Migi & Dali and perhaps understand the characters better. There may be more songs that deserve to go on this list, so I may decide to update this post later (and of course the reader is very welcome to let me know if I missed any 😊)

Given these potential connections, The Carpenters might be another cultural reference that had a significant impact on Migi & Dali that helped Sano shape the characters and the direction of the story. Of course, I can't discount the possibility that all of this is just a big coincidence and that this post is just a big load of crap, but this wouldn't nearly be as interesting 😜

With all this in mind, I think that Migi & Dali would make a great musical, and it's interesting to imagine the characters singing songs like these in the anime. However, I've never seen a musical before, so I know nothing about them, but I have a good feeling that a Migi & Dali musical would be good. I'd probably see it.

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  Have A Drink On Me

Series: Holler Me Home, part 11

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  Supernatural

Rating:  Explicit

Pairing:  Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/Reader

Synopsis: The first case after Our Heroes make their big decision leads to considerations of the future, the past, what it means to be a Hunter and a killer and a lover and a partner and a part of something greater than yourself.

Tags:  Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, ABO, Omegaverse, AU, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega You, Omega Reader, Alpha Sam Winchester, Episode References, S12E16 Ladies Drink Free, Mick Davies, Omega Mick Davies, British Men Of Letters, Claire Novak, Alpha Claire Novak,

AN:  Continuing adventures in AU land. This one is S12E16, 'Ladies Drink Free.' All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any copyrights or trademarks. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and protected by Fair Use.

---

You’re trying not to snap.  You’re really trying.  But you’re starting to wish you’d ridden Eddie for this trip instead of sharing Baby’s backseat with Mick Davies, snow and all.  Instead of stretching out and going to sleep, you’re slumped up against the window trying to distract yourself with your nephew’s Twitch stream of . . . whatever game he’s playing right now.  Davies had tried to break the ice with you earlier when he saw the cover art for Piece Of Mind on your phone’s screen, by offering the startling revelation that “The Trooper” was inspired by The Charge Of The Light Brigade.  Your patience already running low, you’d told him, rather tartly, that you already knew.  And that Maiden’s lyrical influences include Samuel Coleridge and Frank Herbert and the Church Of England hymnal.  He’d taken the hint and left you alone, burying himself in paperwork.

Closing your eyes, you reach for patience.  Davies is behaving like a man well aware he's doing something significantly beyond him, and is feeling the strain.  You have to give him credit for that awareness at least, and the desire to correct it.  That doesn't change the fact that he has zero in-country experience, and of all the things you'd pick to break a Hunting cherry, a werewolf hunt would not be your first choice no matter how book-smart a guy might be on the subject. 

Teamwork, you remind yourself again.  Teamwork makes the dream work.  Hunting is a little like writing; the only way to do it is to do it.

Paulie signs off and you pull out your earbuds.  Next to you, Davies is listening raptly to an analysis of Martin Luther’s 95 Theses.  “Did you have to let him listen to his podcast?” you bitch.

Dean points at Sam.

“It's educational,” Sam bitches back.  “And besides, I've been wanting to listen to this one.”

Davies turns off the lecture, and your aching head sighs in relief.  “You know, monks like Martin Luther are among the earliest Hunters. He even wrote parts of that book you're holding.”

You did know that, and you also know that's completely discounting the entire Greek Orthodox Church’s history, along with the activities of the Ethiopian church.  There’re also several Islamic warriors who were based in North Africa and the Eastern Arabian deserts who would qualify as Hunters by any reasonable definition, and who the hell knows what’s going on in northern Asia and China?  You resist the urge to be a wiseass, though it’s surely a strong temptation.

“What?”  Sam twists around and stares at Davies.  “This lore dates back to the 16th century?”

“Yeah.”  Davies shrugs.  “Well, in Europe, everything’s old.  Though we do have our fair share of new tricks for dealing with wolves-- sulfate gas, silver nitrate lethal injection.”

“Take a handful of silver bullets over any of that fancy crap,” is Dean’s counter.

“Agreed,” you add.

“Yes, well,” Davies sighs, “thanks to that ‘fancy crap,’ Britain's last werewolf outbreak was in the twenties.  We rooted them out, bitten and pureblood alike.”

“Wait a second-- you killed them all?” Sam echoes your thought.  “Even the ones that weren't hurting anyone?”

Davies’s eyebrows arch up.  “Sorry?”

 “Your research into lycanthropy didn’t cover that?” you ask.  “Some people are able to live with the change.”

“Yeah,” Sam says.  “I mean, we have a buddy got bit.  Nothing but beef hearts ever since.”

“And you trust him?”

“More than we trust you,” Dean says bluntly.

“Well, killing is a fundamental need for werewolves,” Davies says.

“No, eating is a fundamental need for werewolves,” you correct.  “And that’s doable with enough cardiac tissue.  Just needs to be from a warm-blooded vertebrate, far as we can tell.  Chicken hearts will do, you just need a lot of them."

Davies looks a little surprised but rallies, “Be that as it may, monsters don't just stop being monsters.”

“Well Garth did,” Dean says.

“Get two-thirds of a beer in him Garth’s downright cuddly,” you say.

“Oh, turn here,” Mick says, pointing to a driveway.  Dean signals and pulls up to a . . . hotel.  Like a real hotel and not a tin shack with cable TV.  The sign out front reads Wild Elk Lodge.

Your collective jaws drop.  Scuzzy cash-only roach traps are so par for the course when you’re not traveling with the RV you barely notice them.  “Um . . .”

Characteristically, Sam has more words.  “This place, uh, seems a little--"

“Shabby?”  Davies actually sounds a little apologetic.  “Yeah, three stars was the best I could do.  Least our bean counters will be happy.  Booked us all suites.”

“Wait, you . . . We're in separate rooms?” Sam asks, and he sounds like his birthday came early.

“Yeah, of course.”

Dean shoots a look at you, and you gulp.  Circumstances usually prevent any kind of fun while you’re on the job.  Nice big bed and no Sam snoring two feet away equals--

Davies catches your look and . . . blushes?  A vague suspicion you’ve been having all day crystalizes and you suddenly know something about Mr. Mick Davies, Man of Letters.

---

"Mind if I join you?"

You look up from your drink and nod at Davies.  "Sure, step into my office."

Climbing up on the barstool, Davies signals the bartender.  "Two of whatever the lady's having."  As the bartender pulls down the bottle of Laphroig, he makes an impressed face.  "Interesting choice."

"Don't tell the guys this," you admit, "but I hate the stuff they keep in the decanter back at the bunker."

"Slainte," Davies says.  You tap your glasses and sip.  "Ah.  Speaking of the boys, do you know where they might be?"

"Sam's probably stealing some time in the exercise room since we're hitting the ground running in the morning."

"And Dean?"

You laugh.  "Probably at the pool doing cannonballs in his underwear.  If there's a waterslide we'll never see him again."

Davies pulls out a cigarette case.  "D’you mind?"

You shake your head.  "Actually . . ." you hold out your hand and Davies spots you one.  You pull your lighter out of your pocket and light both.

"I didn't know you smoked," Davies observes.

"I usually don't," you say, "but two cigarettes will cover your scent better than one."

He glances away.  "How did you know?"

"You've been taking scents ever since you walked in.  Besides, I use the same neutralizers.  It’s why you wanted to join me isn't it?  There's at least one Alpha sitting around the corner."

"Three."  Davies motions, his cigarette clamped between his first two fingers.  "That big fellow right there.  The ginger in the uniform.  And our friend drinking tequila like it's water.  I know how to make rude Alphas take No for an answer but it's attention we don't want."

"No we do not."

"So," Davies drags over an ashtray, "you and Dean?"

"What you don't have that in your dossiers?" you ask.

"No, actually.  Official information on American Hunters in general is challenging to come by.  Covering your tracks seems second nature.  Winchesters in particular."  Davies chuckled.  "It even got to be a game with some of our cleverer researchers.  They'd make up stories to explain the outlandish contradictions tied up in their paper trails."

"Really?  Spill," you tell him.

"Well once," Davies says, leaning in close like one of your mom's friends sharing something scandalous, "we caught their car's registration on camera, at the exact same time, in two different cities!  Jordan was convinced that a shapeshifter had somehow shifted into the car and driven itself!"

"If that's what I think it is," you  say as your mind makes a connection, "that was a hacker friend of theirs laying false trails.  The boys had to leave the country for a couple weeks."

"Ah there, you see?  Data's useless without someone to put the bits together.  And a man with your Dean's reticence when it comes to committed relationships, well," he spreads his hands, "we didn't expect to find him committing to a bonded mate."

Your eyes go slitted, the way they do whenever someone starts sniffing around your Alpha.

Davies does a double-take over his drink.  "Oh no!  No I'm not trying to imply anything.  Dean's an attractive Alpha but he's not remotely my type.  Neither is Sam.  Too tall."

"The Men of Letters don't have a problem with you being Omega?"

"No," Davies shrugs.  "I know it doesn't always look that way to outsiders, but we're firm believers in the aristocracy of talent.  Once we find talent, we do what we can not to waste it.  Being an Omega is a manageable inconvenience with the proper planning."

You cough out a smoky laugh.  "Sorry.  It's just I never in my life heard somebody refer to it as a 'manageable inconvenience'."

"Well why not?" he asks.  "You've managed to make a go of it.  And you were totally alone most of the time."

"I had help."  You explain about the drug study.

Davies puts down his cigarette and calls for another drink.  "My God.  I've read that study!"

You turn red.  "I hope you didn't get the illustrated version."

Davies turns red.  "There wasn't anything, well . . . personally identifiable.  Mostly imaging scans."

"How long have you been with the Men of Letters?"  You listen as Davies tells you about being recruited off the streets, his upbringing and education sponsored by one of the deacons at Kendricks Academy.  "Wow," you say, the liquor loosening your tongue a little.  "The way the guys talk about the Bevel bitch--" Davies chokes on his drink.  "Shit!  Sorry!"

"Don't be," Davies says, coughing into a napkin and chortling.  "Lady Bevel's of an older mindset.  Her family's one of the original founders of the Men of Letters, right back to the time of Edward VI.  Very authoritarian."

"It's not like you can argue with the results," you say.

Davies is quiet for a moment.  "Can I share something with you?"  At your nod, he says, "It's true, we haven't had any monster related casualties since after the war.  But it's all rather small potatoes compared to open warfare between Heaven and Hell.  Since your boys averted the Apocalypse, it's felt like the rulebook's been thrown out completely."

You nod.  "Suddenly the system stopped working."

"Precisely.  The weakness of bureaucracy, it doesn't handle surprises well.  Our analysts did a logistical study about what might have happened if the Devil's Gate in the Orkneys opened the way the one in Wyoming did.  The results were . . . sobering.  We want to take a more active role in keeping the world secure from the supernatural.  We're just," he grimaces, "still trying to figure out how that should work.  But," he says, lighting another cigarette, "that's enough about me.  What about you?"

"What, I don't have a super secret file?"

"Incomplete.  Been driving me a little mad if I'm honest."

Davies listens as you tell him about Peg, the sextant haunting.  "Peg caught her foot and tore the hell out of her ankle.  She was stuck in town for weeks.  I spent a lot of time with her when she was rehabbing-- helping her around the house, running errands, all that good stuff."

"And the whole time she was training you," he puts it together.

"Mmm-hmm.  You wouldn't've known it to look at her, but Peg was a champ at getting people to pour their hearts out to her.  You know what I wanted to do before I Presented?"  Davies shakes his head, looking fascinated.  "I wanted to join the Marines."

"You are having me on!"

"I shit thee not.  I had dreams about being the first woman on the Joint Chiefs of Staff.  It was a family thing as much as anything.  My great-uncle was in the North African and Italian campaigns in World War II.  Monte Cassino."

"Nasty business, that was," Davies notes.

"Yeah.  Anyway, Peg left but she promised she'd come back for me after I finished high school.  She insisted on that."

"And did she?"

"Yep."  You smile to remember it.  "She told me she watched me graduate from a tree in the Palmers’ back yard, through the scope of her favorite sniper rifle.  She took me out of town that night and I was her partner up until she died."

"What of?"

"Would you believe it?  Peritonitis, from a burst appendix.  She thought maybe she’d gotten some bad bratwurst.  By the time we pulled our heads out of our asses and got to a hospital it was too late."  You shake your head.  Even years later, your heart breaks to think of it.  "She singlehandedly killed each and every vampire in Las Cruces, Texas over a two night meth and vodka binge, she tracked and killed one of the last babayagas, she survived the fall of the Iron Curtain and managed to smuggle herself out of Sarajevo two hours ahead of the Serbs.  Fucking appendicitis."

Davies sighs.  "Katherine Marlowe.  My sponsor when I was recruited by the Men Of Letters, she disappeared some years ago.  She had a soft spot for orphans, maybe because she couldn’t have children of her own.  Closest thing to a mother I ever knew."

"God I'm sorry," you say, putting a hand on Davies’s arm.  "What happened?"

"Well by then she'd retired from most active work but you know the job.  You never totally walk away from it.  She spent her time researching and tracking down magical artifacts, the stranger the better."

"Indiana Jones by way of Savile Row?  I like it."

"God she would have hated that," Davies laughs, but there's an edge of melancholy to it.  "She's actually Lady Bevel's aunt on her father’s side.  I think she collected us orphans partly to spite the rest of the Marlowes."

"You know," you say, "here's a problem as I see it."

"Mmm?  What's that?"

"Well the primary points of contact between us and your organization so far have included you, Lady Bevel, and Mr. Ketch.  A middle manager-- no offense."

"None taken."

"A pain fetishist, and a hitman.  All with very different philosophies as to handling potential allies, and all equally convinced they're fully sanctioned by your organization's leadership.  It suggests a disunity of opinion that's concerning.  To an outsider."

"That's a rather astringent read of the situation," Davies tells you a mite coldly.

"And the fact that none of you have any real in-country Hunting experience is not going to win you any credibility with most Hunters.  Bobby Singer-- rest in peace," you cross yourself, "had the respect of every Hunter he ever worked with because he was never afraid to go in and kick ass.  Loyalty meant something to him.  It does to most of us."

"Well why do you think I'm here?" Davies asks.  "Meeting people like you, like the Winchesters, working with you, trying to show how much better the world can be if we work as a team."

"Well, that's my point.  What does working as a team mean to you?" you ask.  "Because if it means you give orders and people like us do the dying, that’s not going to work.  This isn't the Army, and we are not soldiers."

Davies puts his drink down and faces forward for a few minutes, tense and brooding.  You've hit a nerve somewhere.  When he looks at you again, there's a pinched look on his face.  Confirm nerve strike.  "Did it occur to you that maybe the respect of yourself and your colleagues is something I want purely on its own merits?"

"Yes it did.”  You’re nobody’s psychologist but it doesn’t take a genius to see the Tom Hagan effect in action.  Being an Omega would make that even worse.  “Why do you think I’m talking to you like this?  I want this to work.  Sam does too.”

“And Dean?  Unless I’m very much mistaken, he’s the one I need to convince.”

“Just don’t play him.  He’ll figure it out and when he does . . . Dean doesn’t always make the best decisions when he’s upset.”  Your lips burn with the magnitude of that understatement.  “And if he tells you something’s not kosher?  Believe him.  Dean’s got the sharpest intuitions I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

“You do that.”  Butting your cigarette, you hop down off your barstool.  “If you’ll excuse me Mr. Davies--”

“Mick.  Please,” he says.

“Mick.  I think I need to go fish my Alpha out of the pool.  Good night.  Thanks for the drink.”

“My pleasure,” he smiles.

You leave feeling a little better about the whole enterprise and follow the signs to the pool.  Dean’s doing the redneck thing; a pair of boxer shorts standing in for trunks as he swims a lazy backstroke through the water.  You take off your boots and socks, roll up your pantlegs, and sit down with your feet dangling over the edge.  The water feels wonderful between your toes and you can feel the long day slipping away.  It’s its own small happiness, just sitting at your ease watching your Alpha enjoy himself.

“You know, put you in a tail and a seashell bra you’d make an awesome mermaid,” you say as he catches sight of you and paddles over.

“Ha-ha.”  Dean puts his feet underneath him and stands to just under your nose.  Over your laughing protests, he wraps his soaking wet arms around you and cranes his neck for a kiss.  Smacking his lips, he asks, “Whiskey?”

“Had a couple with Mick.  We had an interesting conversation.”

Dean cocks an eyebrow at you.  “How interesting?”

“Not so interesting I’m not looking forward to not sleeping in my own bed tonight.”

Dean has to take a second to parse that out.  “Isn’t that like a triple negative or something?”

“I dunno, I skipped most of freshman English.”  You cup Dean’s jaw, slide your hand down his wet skin to the still livid marks of your claiming bite.  Dean shivers, stealing another kiss.

"So," he says, leaving your lips with a little farewell peck, "interesting talk?"

"Well first of all, Mick's an Omega."

Dean's eyebrows pop up.  "Really.  That's interesting.  Do I need to warn Sam?"

"Mention it.  Don't make Mick feel weird.  I don't know about the organization, but the guy himself really is trying."

"Yeah but he's a fucking amateur.  Amateurs are meat in this job."

"I know that Dean, but-- I mean, look at this," you gesture around.  "Not having to support ourselves on mail fraud and dumb luck would make this job a snap.  Might mean more of us could settle down, have a home base.  Maybe not the full apple pie, but . . . the apple crumble life?"

"I still don't like it.  You're the one who keeps saying beware Englishmen bearing gifts."

"Yeah, still looking for the hook in this nice juicy worm.  If their idea of the perfect hunter is fucking Ketch--"

"You really don't like him do you?"

"Ketch is Bad.  Like, capital-B Bad.  And I don't like the conclusions he jumped to about you."  You think a minute.  "I don't like that these people are leaning extra hard into the Brains versus Brawn dichotomy.  Sam kicks plenty of ass and you're a damned smart guy."

Dean grimaces.  You spare a thought to curse John Winchester, for that involuntary grimace every time someone dares to give Dean a compliment.  "Yeah.  I didn't like the Final Solution vibe I got off Mick when he was talking about werewolves either."

"Me neither."  You let the thoughtful quiet hang for a minute, then put away the subjects of Mick Davies and the Men of Letters for the night.  "So.  You done dog-paddling or . . ."

"I'm not done doing nothing," Dean drawls, a slow grin lighting him up.

Oh the little motherfucker-- "Oh no, no no," you warn, trying to scootch back out of snatching range, "don't even think about it, fuckstick--"

Dean's arms lock around you and down you go into the drink.

You come up sputtering.  "Fuck you Winchester!"  You catch up as he swims away and the two of you spend a productive few minutes behaving like five year olds on an Red Bull high.

---

Later, after receiving a stern dressing-down from the hotel's night manager and a solemn promise to remember you're adults, you two slosh to your rooms.  Outside his door Dean yawns.  "Honey?  Y'know I'm kinda tired-- I've been driving all day and I didn't sleep good last night--"

You put your hands on your hips.  "If this is your way of telling me you're gonna lay there and make me do all the work," you toss your head and turn on your heel, "good night, Winchester."

Whaddaya know, he's magically not tired anymore.  With almost economical grace, he unlocks his door with one hand, yanks you off your feet with the other, and the two of you land inside his room with a splat.

---

The next morning after a raid on the breakfast buffet, you join your boys outside as they wait for the valet.

"Those pillows, right?" Dean gushes.  "The little chocolates that they put on?  I mean, I'm ruined, Sam.  Those limey sons of bitches ruined me.  I even took a swim."

"You brought a swimsuit?" Sam asks.

"Nope," you tell him.

"Ugh.  He didn't," Sam groans.

"Yep.  How was your night?  Sleep okay?" you ask.

"Yeah.  Full king size bed," Sam says, looking a bit dreamy.  For a guy of Sam's height, that's not a small matter.  "I read through more of Mick's lore books-- listen to this, it's crazy.  So apparently, back in the '30s, they were working on this treatment for werewolves.  This, like, blood therapy."

"Plasma therapy," Mick corrects, joining you with his ever-present briefcase.  "Useless, I'm afraid.  So how were your accommodations?"

Dean the Grouch is back.  "I've had better night's sleep in my Baby."  Taking the keys from the valet and slipping him a tip, Dean grumbles, "Get in.  Let's go."  As you join Mick in the backseat, you hear him say to Sam sotto voce, "Not gonna give him the satisfaction."

Mick looks over at you.  Unlike the men, you're in work clothes layered up for the outdoors, a stocking cap covering your head.  "Four FBI agents are a bit much," you say.  "I'm gonna look at the attack site and see if rabid Lassie left any sign.  See if we're dealing with a lone wolf or a pack."

"Good thinking," Mick says.  "If the police are still there?"

"Yeah, here," Sam says, passing an ID wallet back to you.  "Hot off the press."

"Thank you."  You flip it open and see your own face scowling back at you under a badge.  "If anybody asks, I'm Daria Fleetwood, Wisconsin DNR."

---

Nobody asks, and the crime scene is empty when you get there.  It's also pretty thoroughly trampled over.  Walking carefully, you examine likely hiding places, spots in the trees where someone could observe without being seen.  You find tracks from a woman's square-heeled boot, and snagged on a bramble branch you find a strand of hair.  Long, fine, shining gold in the winter sunlight.  You're pretty sure it belongs to the person crunching around like they've got lead in their shoes, circling you slowly and staying almost out of your sightline.  Another werewolf come to the scene, checking up on the cops or just to have a gloat?

When you hear a hammer click back you swing and catch the stalker's arm, twisting their weapon our of their hand and pointing it straight back at them.  Yep, there's the head that produced that strand of golden hair.  The head belongs to a-- "Jesus Christ, what are you twelve?" you blurt.

Striking blue eyes glare at you.  "You're not a cop.  What are you doing out here?"

"Hunting a werewolf," you say easily, playing a hunch, "same as you."

Hunch pays off, as Blondie's face goes slack with shock for just a second.  She also looks . . . familiar?  Something about how her mouth shapes itself when she frowns and the deep blue of her eyes.  "There's no such thing as werewolves."

"Uh-huh," you say.  "Tell you what-- when I unload this revolver, if I don't find silver I'll buy you a good steak dinner.  Is it a bet?"  Blondie deflates, puffing out a disgusted sigh.  "That's what I thought."  You uncock the weapon, open the cylinder, and dump the bullets into your hand.  Silver rounds all right.  You flick the cylinder back shut and offer the weapon, butt first.

Blondie takes it and stuffs it into a shoulder holster under her coat.  "Who are you?"

You introduce yourself, taking the handful of bullets and make sure the kid can see the silver touching your skin.  "See?  No pain, no blisters.  Not a werewolf.  Hold out your hand."  You dump the bullets into her outstretched palm and note the lack of reaction.  As your new friend tucks them into her pocket, her phone rings.  "Put it on speaker when you answer," you tell her, and it's not a request.

"Fuck you," she says.  An Alpha’s snarl, and a strong Alpha scent of vanilla and cinnamon.

"Not into girls.  Do it."

Rolling her eyes like she just can't even, the kid digs into another pocket.  "Agent Beatrice Quimby."

"Oh thank God," Dean's voice comes over the speaker in a thick Canadian accent and you bite your lips to keep from giggling.  "There's a bear, it's the size of a freaking TANK!  I think it wants my pick-a-nick basket!"

The kid does that eye roll thing again.  "Hi Dean."

"Hi Dean," you echo and the kid's jaw actually drops.  "How'd it go at the hospital?"

"Um . . ." you grin.  Rare to catch your Alpha off his feet.  "It went okay, until Hayden's mother said she got shaken down by a blonde claiming to be Fish and Wildlife.  Know anything about that Claire?"

And that's how you meet Claire Novak.

---

"Claire what are you doing here?" Sam asks as you flop on the loveseat next to Dean.  You lean into each other, just for a moment.  Wolves touching noses, taking in each others' scents.

"Same as you.  Werewolf case," she says, trying to play it cool and missing by a few inches.

"She pulled a pistol on me when I was looking over the crime scene," you explain.

There's the eye roll.  "Yeah, real impressive-- I had you cold," she scoffs, trying to get a little dignity back.

She's not going to get it back from you.  "No you didn't.  I heard you stomping around the whole time.  Credit for at least wanting to make sure before you took your shot."

Claire scowls, and yeah, you can see the resemblance, see Castiel’s vessel in the shape of her mouth and her beautiful blue eyes.  "So.  You bring your girlfriend on Hunts now Dean?"

"Watch it kid, I've been Hunting since before you were born," you warn her.  “You really should have your hair tied up and covered if you're in country."

Mick arrives from the bar with two hands full of bottles.  "Beers all around," he says.

"Who're you?" Claire asks.  Manners were clearly not part of whatever training she's had.

"Oh-- Mick Davies.  Men of Letters.  British."  He offers his hand and, looking thoroughly nonplussed, Claire shakes.

"Long story," Dean says at her quizzical look.  "And like, Downton Abbey boring, so . . ." as Claire reaches for a beer Dean plucks it from her hand.  Holy hell how old is this kid?

"Okay," Claire sighs.  "Anyway, I've been on this a day.  And guess what?  The girl, Hayden?  Her story about what happened the night of attack?  One big lie."

"Her mom said the same thing," Sam confirms.

“Where was she?” Dean asks.

“She was at the local dive bar, getting trashed.  It’s about half a mile from where she got attacked.  I tracked her phone and asked around and--" she grins at the grownups around the table.  “Bartenders love me.  It’s a gift.”

“What’d they tell you?” you ask.

“The guy I talked to was a scumbag.  Tribal tat, motorcycle, grabby,” Claire continues.

Dean’s jaw goes tight.  “’Grabby?’”

Patiently, Claire says, “I'm a big girl.  I handled it.”

“What about the hospital?  How’s Hayden,” you ask.

“She’s a little knocked about but she’ll be all right,” Mick reports.  “She said she heard her brother scream, and when she ran towards him she was ambushed by a large man wearing black clothes and a mask.”  Mick glances over at a giant clock decorated with elk horns.  “Right.  Think I’m gonna call it a night.”

Glancing at his watch, Sam notes, “Dude, it's 5:30.”

“Yeah,” Mick replies, “but my report's due at 6:00 sharp.  All work, no play.”  To Claire he gives a distracted smile.  “Nice meeting ya.”

“So,” Claire observes when Mick’s safely out of earshot, “your foreign exchange student’s totally lame.”

“Yeah.  He's Sam's best friend,” Dean tells her, ignoring Sam’s bitchface and exasperated sigh.  “They’re like nerd soul mates.”

"We're hoping he's trainable," you say.

"Anyway," Sam changes the subject, "why are you alone?"

"Jody's busy with sheriff stuff.  And she said to call if I found anything."  Right.  Your big sister instincts say Lie.

Sam sees it too.  "So you called her."

"You called first," Claire says.  "And she's great, by the way.  And so is Alex.  So," she changes the subject back, "should we go to the morgue?"

"Take it easy, Clarice.  Morgue's closed," Dean says.

"By the way," Sam says, looking the girl up and down, "when's the last time you had a hot meal that didn't come from a Gas-n-Sip microwave?"

"Not that there's anything wrong with that," Dean says.

"It's been a while," Claire admits.

"Well--" Dean hands Claire a menu.  "Go nuts.  It's on, uh, Harry Potter."

"Cool," Claire says with a laugh.

"And when's the last time you slept in a bed?  One you didn't have to worry about tiny livestock in the mattress?" you ask.  "I got a suite I'm not using and this hotel has a laundromat.  You can get a tubsoak, do your wash."

"Hell yeah," Claire says.  But then she thinks it through a little and gives you and Dean a look.  "Ew.  Seriously?"

---

"Swanky," Claire observes, unshouldering her duffel.

"Yeah," you say.  "Pro tip-- never pass up an opportunity to do laundry."  You toss Claire a pill bottle full of quarters.  She catches it easily.  Good reflexes.

"Yeah whatever," she scoffs.

You give her a look.  "And learn how to say thank you.  Believe it or not this job runs on relationships."

"You know," oh fuck, you gave her something to get pissed at, "I'm really damn sick of people lecturing me on how to do my job.  Especially after they steal my gigs."

"We didn't steal shit," you counter.  "And people are more likely to treat you like an adult when you behave like one.  Hayden's mom had you pegged for a phony the minute you opened your mouth.  You're lucky she's too worried about her kid to report you to the cops."

"Right.  I'm gonna take advice from Dean Winchester's breeder."

In three easy moves, you've got Claire on the floor with a knee in her back and her arm twisted up to her shoulderblades.  "Watch your fucking mouth, girlie-o.  I've been taking down scarier things than a mouthy Alpha teenager since you were in diapers."

"Let me go!" Claire cries.

"No.  You're going to calm down, you're going to apologize, and you're going to get in the habit of listening when someone's giving you friendly advice.  Sam and Dean might have reservations about giving you some wall-to-wall counseling.  I do not."  You jerk her wrist up to emphasize your point.

Claire's not a complete idiot.  When she realizes she's staying put until you let her up, she goes still.  "All right," she surrenders.  "All right, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry for calling you a breeder."

"And?"

"What?"

"And 'I promise to listen when people are trying to help me be better at my job, because people care about me and don't want me to fucking die.'"  That's the rub, you know.  Claire's got the same problem the boys have; somewhere they picked up the rock-solid belief that they don't matter enough to care about.  In spite of all possible evidence to the contrary.

Claire struggles with all her strength.  When she runs out, she lays panting underneath you.  "All right," she says again.  "Fine.  I promise to listen when people are helping me, because they care about me and they don't want me to fucking die.  Happy now?"

"Provisionally," you say, letting go of her arm and getting to your feet.

Glaring at you with every bit the fool's pride one might expect of a young Alpha, Claire rolls over and stands.  Still, there's a glimmer of intelligence under the attitude.  Whatever else she might be, she's a survivor.  "How did you do that?"

"Your contempt for Omegas," you answer.  "You assumed I wouldn't get physical with you, because of your age, my designation, and the fact that you're friends with my mate.  Here's another pro tip-- allowing contempt to rule your judgement will get you killed one day.  The Omega," you point at yourself, "got the drop on you twice.  If the werewolf we're tracking has any experience with Hunters at all, you're meat."

"Wait-- mate?" Claire asks.

You show her the marks.  "Mate."

Claire's attitude recedes and she stares at you.  At your buzzed hair and ratty turtleneck.  You stare right back.  "Wow," she says, with a little laugh.  "Just-- wow.  Dean Winchester the turbo-slut--"

"Watch it kid or get real used to the taste of floor."

"Sorry," she says, not sounding very sorry.  "Is the lecture over?"

"One more thing," you say.  "The day you stop learning how to do your job better, write out your will and your If And When letters."

You head to the bathroom and strip out of your work clothes and put on some shorts and a tank top.  You weren't kidding about taking every opportunity to do laundry.  When you come out, Claire's sitting on the bed sorting her clothes.  Her eyebrows go up when she sees you.  More specifically, when she sees your scars.  You look down at yourself, and up to meet her eyes.  "Ask if you want to know."

"Okay," she says, so you give her the scar tour.  The insouciance fades a little with every mark you point out, until she's listening raptly.  You tell her about Peg, about those first times in the field when you were so scared you threw up every night and barely slept.  "In retrospect I grew up pretty sheltered," you say.  “I was a tomboy when I was a kid but I wasn't prepared to hunt things that could hunt me back."

"Yeah," Claire says.  She tips her head to one side and you can see faint white puncture marks.  "Vampire.  He was targeting Alex and took Jody and me as bait."

You nod.  "I'd show you my bite mark but I was tied up and the fucking pervert took it from my femoral artery."  You point to a spot high on your inner thigh, covered by your shorts.  "I almost bled out.  Thank God, Francois got me to a medic in time.  Three units of B-neg, a shitload of Sprite, and two days bed rest.  Fuck vampires."

"Yeah," Claire says, lighting up with a laugh.  "Fuck vampires."

---

And that's how the evening goes.  You and Claire do your laundry together, talking a little when the mood takes you or sitting quietly, you reading the local paper and Claire messing around on her phone.  She's a charming girl when she drops the attitude, and you can tell she's craving the company.  Sam and Dean join you just after you put your clothes in the dryer.  You take control of the TV and tune in to the local news.  The attack is being chalked up as a wolf attack, with no mention of Benjamin Foster's missing heart.

"Still think we should've hit the morgue," Claire grumbles.

"You've already been made," you point out.  "You get caught breaking and entering, that's attention we could do without."

"She's right," Sam says around a yawn.  "The body will still be there in the morning."

"Just because you old farts need your sleep--"

"Hey!" Dean says, stung.

"Who said anything about sleep?" you say, grabbing Dean by his shirt and hauling him to his feet.  You snag your bag of clean laundry on the way by.

"Totally whipped," is Claire's judgement call.

"Oh yeah?"  Dean bends you backwards and lays one of those full-bodied, take-no-prisoners kisses that sends you from zero to slicked-up mess in ten seconds.

"Are they always like this?" you vaguely hear Claire ask Sam.

"Jesus Christ yes," Sam groans.

---

What started as an attempt to put Claire’s nose out of joint turns into something else PDQ.  In Dean’s room, shirts fly everywheres.  “Please baby,” you pant into Dean’s mouth.  He hasn’t let go of your lips for more than little sips of air.

“Yes,” Dean grunts.  He winds his arms around you and balances you just right as you hop and wrap your legs around him.  Whoever told you your libido would ebb after bonding lied.  Oh how they fucking lied.

Yelling as your claws cut into his back, Dean tears at your shorts until they’re reduced to scraps and elastic strings.  You fumble his belt apart and his pants open, totally deaf to Dean’s plea to hold on a second.  His cock hardens to steel in your hand, like an animal you can command.  “Good cock,” you pant.

“I got a good cock?” Dean pants back, laughing.

“Best cock,” you tell him.  “So fuck me with your good cock.”

“Hell yes, I’m gonna fuck you with my good cock,” Dean tells you, falling on the bed with a whuff of pillow top and billowy duvet.  “Gonna fuck your good pussy with my good cock."

You toss your head back as he suits action to words, shoving into you thick and hot.  Dean’s lips are everywhere, caressing every little bit of your face including your eyelids and up into your buzzed hair.  You arch back into the mattress.  God, the perfect deep fuck of your mate inside you.  He sucks at the fang cuts over your mating gland and you yell and hope to God the Wild Elk Lodge has good soundproofing or Mick’s getting an earful.

“Not gonna last,” Dean says and yeah, his eyebrows are kinked the way they get when he’s already riding the edge.

“’Sokay,” you tell him, “gimme your fucking knot Alpha, I want it, give it to me already.”

Dean takes a second to rebrace himself and catch his breath.  “Hang on honey,” he grunts, and you hang on.

---

You're in the shower the next morning when a text comes over both yours and Dean's phones.  A second later, you hear Dean swear.  "What is it?" you ask, peeking around the shower curtain.

"Hayden.  She's dead."

"What?  How?"

"Don't know.  Sam just hung up with the doctor.  They don't know cause of death yet."

You rinse, dry, and head for your room.  You use your keycard and find Claire still dead asleep.  "Hey Novak, up and att’em."  You show her the text as she blinks awake.  To her credit she's alert in a snap and reaching for her clothes.

"Here."  You hand her an eyeshadow palette in pale browns and a fistful of bobby pins.  For your part, you throw on a silk blouse and trousers and complete the look with a brunette wig.

Claire looks you over and nods her approval.  "Very soccer mom."

"Thank you."  Your Glock goes in the holster at the small of your back.  Throwing on a jacket, you hold the door for Claire as she steps into a pair of low pumps and heads out.  She did a good job; the neutral makeup and business casual ages her up a few years, turning her from a high school student to a twentysomething professional woman who takes good care of her skin.

The guys are already waiting between the Chevy and Claire's little rustbucket.  "Ladies," Mick greets you.

"Morning.  What do we know?" you ask.

"Not much," Sam says.  "She was recovering well yesterday, but around one in the morning her mom found her body."

"Jesus," you say.

"Yeah,” Sam agrees.  “But here's the weird part-- her room was torn up.  Somebody knocked over the IV pole, Hayden's body was on the floor, the window was cracked."

"What the hell?" Claire says.

"You know that's a wonderful question," you say.

---

"Thanks for coming by so quickly," Dr. LaPere says.  "Ms. Foster gave us your number."

With the five of you, the room feels uncomfortably crowded.  Thank God, the staff is so harried they don't question the abundance of officers of the law outside what's supposed to be their jurisdiction.

Hayden, a lovely brunette in life, lies pale and cold on a gurney.  Your heart twists with pity.  Three days ago, her mother had two children.

"You have any idea what happened to her?" Dean asks

Dr. LaPere sighs.  "Autopsy's tomorrow, but it could be an arterial embolism, cardiac arrest."

You frown.  "She's a little young for heart issues."

"It gets weirder.  When we admitted her, she had defensive wounds to her arms.  Now . . ." he lowers the blanket covering Hayden from the chest down and picks up one of her arms, "they're gone."  The doctor's beeper goes off.  He glances at it, frowns, and says, "Just give me a second."

"Of course," you say as he leaves.  The door whuffs shut behind him.

You all wait until you're sure he's out of earshot.  Claire goes first.  "Okay seriously now-- what the hell?"

Dean looks over at Mick.  "You checked Hayden out.  Did you notice anything weird?"

"No," Mick says, "but, uh, the girl could've had internal injuries or . . ."

"But somehow, her external injuries all healed?" Sam says.  "No way.  This is almost like, uh . . ."  He thinks a second.  "You know, what if she turned?"

"What, like, 'wolfed out' turned?" Dean asks.

"Explains the whole Wolverine healing factor thing," Claire says.  You're looking at Mick when she says that, and you frown at the furtive look in his eyes.  Something ain't right there.

Dean sees it too.  "Yeah, no, but that'd be crazy because that means she would've been bit.  And Mick here says that that didn't happen.  Right, Mick?"

"Uh . . . uh, no, not-- not that I saw."  You and the boys exchange a glance.  Right, that's not suspicious at all.  Neither is the thing you see on the dead girl's chest, out of everyone else’s sight line.  You don't point it out.  See how the situation develops.

"Are you a hundred percent sure?" Sam asks.

"Unless I made a mistake," Mick confesses.

"Hell of a mistake," Dean says.

"Dean . . ." Sam begins.

"No, I told you we shouldn't have dragged him along.  I told you!" Dean snaps.

"Don't!"  Everyone in the room turns to look at Claire.  She glares back, an equal amongst colleagues.  "Whatever got Hayden is still out there."

"She's right," you say.  "So the night of the attack, the wolf kills the brother for his heart, nails Hayden, and then, what, runs for the hills?"

"That doesn't make any sense.  Maybe he let her go," Sam thinks out loud.

"On purpose?  Why?" Claire asks.

"Perhaps he didn't want her dead," Mick chips in.  "He wanted her turned."

"Right.  Which means this wasn't random," Sam adds the next bead.

"Which means it would've been somebody who knew her," Dean ties it off.  "Friends, family."

"Or someone from the bar," Claire adds.

"Okay," Dean says, taking command.  "All right, Sam-- you and Claire, you go talk to the girl that she was supposed to be crashing with, and us and amateur hour will hit the bar, see what shakes loose."

---

Outside, Sam takes a look at Claire’s ride and sighs.  You hide a smile.  The poor man's gonna have to ride with his knees up around his ears in that thing.  You pull your bag of spare clothes out of Baby's trunk and, crouched down in the seat to avoid prying eyes, swap your blouse for a turtleneck and your blazer for your denim jacket.  Just a blue collar slob on her day off looking to have a drink or five.  A stocking cap goes over your wig.

"Dean," Mick says as the three of you walk up to the bar's front door, "what happened back there . . . my mistake, it won't happen again."

Dean’s not in a conciliatory mood.  "Better not."  He hangs back as Mick reaches for the door, only to see Mick pull his arm back with a grimace.  "Problem?"

"The old carpal tunnel," he says, clenching and shaking out a fist. 

"Well, allow me, your lordship," you say, pulling the door open.  "I'm gonna hang back, do a circle of the building."

Mick thanks you and walks through the door, but you stop Dean as he turns to follow.  "I saw a needle stick in the middle of Hayden’s chest," you mutter.

"I knew it," Dean growls, just as low.  "I fucking knew it."

"Play it cool for now," you say.  "We'll put him through the wringer later."

With a nod, Dean goes inside.  You do a lap around the building, but nothing jumps out at you.  You do catch sight of surveillance cameras covering the front parking area and the back alley.  Going inside, you ignore Dean and Mick grilling some tattooed jackass and belly up the bar.  From the nervous look on the bartender's face, he's already spent a few minutes getting a Dean Winchester Special Glare.  "Vodka and cranberry juice, please."  You glance at the patron beside you and get out your phone.  "Hi.  Ever seen this girl around?"

The canvass is a bust and the manager's not in, so no looking at the security camera footage.  Frustrated and disgusted with yourself, you wait outside for the guys to finish up.

They're only a few minutes.  "Found the guy Hayden'd been seeing on the sly," Dean reports.  "Total douchebag.  Definitely fits the profile."

"Did you get a chance to slip him some silver?" you ask.

"No, we're gonna have to do that later."

"So that's the plan?  Come back tonight?" Mick asks.

"Yeah.  Nice work in there, by the way," Dean says.

"Thank you," Mick replies.

"Yeah, that alibi-- I almost bought it," Dean says.

"Sorry?"

"Gun," Dean tells you.  Quick as thought you snatch Mick's weapon from the small of his back and Dean arm-bars him against the nearest wall.  "See, here's the thing about sixteen year old girls, especially sixteen year old freshly minted werewolf girls-- they don't just die.  And you've been acting sketchy all day."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You jab Mick in the shoulder and he yelps in pain.  "Care to explain why the needle stick from her IV was gone, but not the needle stick in her heart?"

The uncertainty and little-kid dread falls away.  Mick straightens his back and looks Dean in the eye for the first time all day.  "I did what needed to be done."

"And that means?" Dean asks.

You grab Mick's injured shoulder and squeeze.  "Answer him, Mr. Davies."

"Last night, I injected her with silver nitrate," he confesses, groaning in pain.

"So you killed her?" Dean demands.  "She never hurt anybody and you killed her."

"Well, she attacked me," Mick defends himself.  "She tore up my shoulder.  And . . . I had orders."

"No.  You had a choice," you say.

"Did I?" Mick demands.  "Killing monsters is what we do. Or maybe palling around with demons and witches, you've forgotten."

"Don't you dare tell us how to do our job," you growl.

"Well, then do it," Mick says.

"You really think it's that fucking simple?"

Mick glares at you.  "I really do."

"Yeah?" Dean asks.  "I used to think the same thing.  Well, here's a little tip.  Things aren't just black and white out here.  All you have is a case in front of you, like Hayden.  A few months ago, there was this kid, this psychic.  She was killing people, but she didn't mean to hurt anyone-- she was being abused and she was trying to call out for help!  So we gave her a second chance because it was the right thing to do."

Mick retorts, "Well . . . that's your luxury.  We have a Code."

"And just where does the saving people half of Hunting figure into that Code?" you ask.  "Is that a priority or a happy side effect?  Because that's not what we're trying to do here."

"And now Hayden's mom, she gets to bury two kids instead of one, thanks to you and thanks to your Code," Dean wraps it all up.  "Nice work."

Dean's phone rings as you take shotgun.  "It's Sam," he says.  "You're on speaker."

Sam tells you.

---

Soaked with sweat and moaning in pain, Claire thrashes on the bed.  You check her temperature with the back of one hand.  "Fuck, she's burning up.  Go fill the tub, we gotta get her fever down."

"No no," Mick corrects you, grabbing the extra blanket from the room's couch.  "Keep her warm."

"Back off," Sam snarls at him, using his Alpha voice

"Look, I understand you're angry--"

"You killed a kid," Sam says, and oh hell, you can see the points of his fangs.  Mick sees them too, and you can tell he's fighting not to cringe.  Fucking Omega reflexes.  "We're not angry-- we're done."

Holding herself and shaking, Claire asks, "How long have I got until--"

"It varies," you tell her.  "Sometimes it takes a full moon.  Sometimes it just takes time."

"Hey," Dean says softly, kneeling in front if the young Alpha.  "Listen to me, Claire.  Nobody said this was gonna be easy, okay?  But you can live with this."

Claire shakes her head.  "No way."

"Hey, look at me."  When he has her undivided attention, he says, "So you have to stay locked down for a few nights out of the month.  The rest of the time, you're you."

"Unless I break out," Claire says as you're thinking it.  "Maybe some people can control this," her voice breaks on a sob, "but I can barely keep it together on a good day.  So if there's any chance I could hurt Jody or Alex, or anyone, I'd rather die."

You heart breaking, you sit next to Claire and take her in your arms.  She buries her face in your neck and scents you.  You do your best to keep yourself soft, nurturing, not-scary, an older mated Omega offering comfort.

"Claire, there may be another way," Sam says, his words tripping over each other the way they do when he's thinking and talking at the same time.  "There's-- there's the blood therapy that you talked about."

"I told you," Mick says, "it doesn't work. "

"It says right here," Sam finds a passage in the book in front of him and points it out, reading out loud, "one out of nine test subjects was cured. "

"Cured?" Claire asks.

"That study was on mice!"

Dean stalks towards Mick, and yeah, his protective Alpha mode is fully engaged.  "You want to tell me what the hell he's talking about?!?"

Mick gulps.  "We experimented with the blood of sire werewolves.  And we found it was possible to reverse the early stages of lycanthropy.  In rodents."

"So you never moved on to human trials," you say.

"Once," Mick reports.

"And?" you ask.

"The subject died, in agony.  Sorry," he says to Claire, and to his credit he sounds like he means it.

"Yeah, well.  Maybe second time's a charm," she says.

"Hey, no, no-- you don't get a vote in this," Dean tries to head the whole idea off.

"It's my life," Claire counters, her tone brooking no argument.  "I get all the votes."

"You guys wanna back me up here?" Dean asks.

“Claire’s a grown woman and a Hunter," you answer your mate.  "She's the one who gets to say whether or not this is an acceptable risk."

“She’s right,” Sam adds.

Outnumbered, Dean turns his anger on Mick.  "I bet you think this is a great solution.  Hmm?  It works, or she dies.  Either way one less monster, right?"

The human being Mick Davies actually is says, "I don't think there's any great solutions here."

"Dean . . . please? I can't--" Claire moans

“All right,”  Dean concedes.  “If we do this-- if . . . how do we get it done?”

“We need blood.  Live blood, from the werewolf that bit her,” Mick reports.

“Who we lookin' at?” Sam asks.

“Tribal tat, back at the bar,”  Dean says.  “We shook him down about Claire, and right after, she gets bit-- that's not a coincidence.”

“Timing works out.  Connection to both victims,” you note.

“Then we should go,” Mick says.  “The full moon rises in less than an hour, and if she turns and feeds, our cheery success rate drops to zero.”

You make as if to rise, but Claire grabs for you, whining softly.  “Don’t.”

“It’s okay, I’ll stay right here, it’s okay, shh,” you sit back down and let Claire cling, humming under your breath.

“You trust him?” Sam asks, ticking his head at Mick.

“Mick's a smart guy,” Dean replies.  “So when I say that if anything happens to her, and I mean anything--”

 “You'll kill me.”

“No,” you tell him.  “The boys will bury you.”

Claire peeks up from your neck.  “Sam, if you're not back--"

“We’ll be back,” Sam swears.

---

Claire can't sit still, as the change really starts to dig into her.  She keeps sitting down, getting up, pacing, sitting down again, clinging to you, shoving you away.  Her pale skin bakes with fever and runs with sweat.  Her scent shifts to something . . . defiled.  Spoiling meat, old blood.  Does her designation speed up the process or slow it down?  You don't know.  Everything you know and everything you can do is useless here, if the object is to preserve life the way you claim it is.

Claire spies Mick’s pistol on the coffee table.  Mick sees it and gets to it first.

“You don't understand-- it's happening!”  Claire wails.  “Give it to me!”

“No,” you and Mick say together.

“Then you do it, please!  It's happening!  And you don't understand how this feels!”

Mick raises his weapon, and you draw on him.  “Make a move asshole.  Make a fucking move.”

He doesn’t even look at you.  “I know a man who would shoot you right now without a moment's thought,” he says.  “And every instinct I have says he's right.  That I ought to do my duty.”  Your finger tenses on the trigger.  You bet you’re faster than he is.  “But . . .” Mick’s arm sags, “but my instincts haven't been so grand of late.  Sit down.”  He notices you, and, making sure to move slowly and telegraph his movements clearly, tucks his pistol into the small of his back.

Claire moans, curling herself into a tight little ball.  She looks awful, pale and in pain.  “Hey, hey--" you say, rubbing her back.  You look up at Mick.  “Is there anything we can do for her?”

Mick digs in a suitcase and comes up with a tangle of thick canvas straps.  “Firstly, we're gonna restrain you, right?  For all of our protection.  Okay?”  He puts down the straps and picks up a brown glass vial.

“Woah woah woah-- what’ve we got there?” you demand.

“Animal tranquilizer.  Xylazine, to be exact  With any luck, when you wake up, this will all be over,” he tells Claire.

“If I wake up.”  Tears roll down her ghost-pale cheeks.  “I gotta call Jody.  She's gonna be so mad at me.”

You kneel in front of her, the way Dean did.  “Where do you keep your If And When letters?”

Claire sniffles.  “What?”

“You’re a Hunter kiddo.  It’s a good idea to keep your affairs in order.  A will with your next of kin, and if you’ve got a final message for anyone, have it written out.”

She bursts into tears.  You hold her and let her cry.  You don’t judge.  You did the same thing when Peg confronted you with that nugget of advice.

“That’s one hell of a thing to say to her,” Mick snarls at you.

You ignore him in favor of holding Claire.  Moving her hair aside, you check the bite wound.  The punctures are gone, without a trace.  “Shut up and get the fucking straps.”

All three of you leap to your feet as the door bursts in, shattered to kindling.

“MICK NO!” you cry as he goes straight for the intruder, a big guy in a black hoodie and a skull mask.  The guy pitches Mick right into you and you go down hard, your pistol flying out of your hand.

The guy advances on Claire.  Slowly, he pushes back his hood and pulls off his mask.  “Fuck me,” you groan.  It’s the bartender from earlier, the one who looked like he’d just taken one in the nuts after getting grilled by Dean.  You see your weapon over against the wall and start crawling for it, cussing.  Mick’s unconscious body has your lower half pinned, and the fucker’s heavy.  A hard sound of flesh and bone and Claire goes down in a flare of golden hair.

You finally fight your way free of Mick and snatch up your Glock.  You get one shot off which grazes the guy’s ribs.  Before you can fire again he smacks your gun hand to the side and snaps a big hand around your neck.

God you hate it when the bad guys do the Darth Vader thing-- the bartender stands and lifts you by the neck until your toes brush the carpet.  “Fresh meat,” he snarls through a mouthful of fangs.

“’Et go,” you wheeze, clawing at his wrist as black sparkles wash across your vision.

---

You wake up in the trunk of a car, hogtied.  Motherfucker did a good job of it too, the cords have no play at all and you can’t quite reach them with your claws.  You can wiggle and inchy-worm and even turn over a little.  And that’s all.

The car stops just as you wrap your fingers around the trunk release.  “It’s all right, honey, the pain will pass,” the bartender says softly as he opens the passenger side door and pulls out a groaning Claire.

Maybe he’s leaving you in the trunk for now?  Maybe you have enough time to creep away?  No choice but to go for it; you twist and pull hard as you can on the release handle and the trunk lid pops up.  Good.  Great.  Air.  Smells like the paper mill that’s still operating outside of town.

“Aw no ya don’t.”  Picking you up easily despite your struggles, the bartender hauls you inside a rundown little tract house on a long block of houses just like it.  The other houses are dark, the driveways buried in snow and plowed in.  No one around for miles likely to call the law at a scream or a stray gunshot.

Inside it’s your basic drunk bachelor crashpad, looks like a landfill and smells like a bottle return hasn’t been cleaned since Clinton was in office.  The bartender drags you to a couch and dumps you on it.  You see Claire tied to the support column between the kitchen and the living room, pale as milk and twitching in pain.  “You okay Claire-ree?”

She shoots you an annoyed glare.

“Okay, stupid question,” you concede.

“Shut up!  Don’t talk!” the bartender snaps, rushing around the place with a duffel bag and throwing in assorted bits of rickrack.  Claire curls up as much as she can and groans.  The bartender goes to her, caresses her face.   “I know this is sudden, but you and your friends, you should've let me have Hayden.  She was miserable here.  She . . . we had big plans.”

“Yeah?” Claire asks.  “Was that before or after you bit her?”

“I had to know if she could survive the change.  Not everyone does.”  Claire tosses in her bonds, crying out.  The bartender nods.  “See?  It hurts at first, but eventually, it's like the best drug ever times a thousand.”

“Right.  Eat me, Teen Wolf,” Claire snarls.

 “It's not like I want to do this,” the bartender says.  He pulls up a chair and sits backwards.  “My pack, we were happy.  We didn't hurt anyone.  And then hunters with weapons that I've never seen before, they show up and take out 20 of us, just like that.  The ones that made it, we split up, but we weren't meant to live like that.  A werewolf needs his pack.  You'll see.  I'm a nice guy."

"You know who says they're a nice guy?" Claire retorts.  "Clingy, insecure bitches with mommy issues."

"The lady is wise beyond her years," you say.

"That's just the change talking.  You'll feel better once you've had something to eat."  He glares down at you.  "I was gonna take you with us, nice juicy Omega.  But you're mated, so we'll have to kill your mate first.  It's one of them isn't it?  One of those guys?"

"Oh you mean the guys who think of killing things like you as exercise?  You're dead, boy, and my mate knows how to make dying last for-fucking-ever."

"She's not kidding," Claire adds.  "I saw what happens when you rub Dean Winchester the wrong way.  He was outnumbered five to one, and when it was over the other guys were in pieces."

"We don't have time to eat fresh," the bartender says.  "I'm sorry, we'll have to save her for later."  He heads for the refrigerator and pulls out a heart wrapped in Saran wrap.  "You'll feel better once you eat something."

"Claire look at me," you say as the bartender peels the wrap off and pries Claire's jaws open.

"Try it," the bartender coaxes, shoving the heart in her open mouth.  "You'll like it.  Nothing better than human."  He shoves harder and you fight to keep from throwing up at the sound of raw meat tearing apart.  "As soon as I saw you, I knew . . . you're just like me.  Alone. "

Claire hawks back, and spits the bits of torn tissue and blood right back into the bartender's face.

"Good girl!" you shout.

"Wrong," she tells the bartender.  "I have a family, and they love me."

"Damn right we do," you add.

Yelling at you to shut up, the bartender drops his claws and fangs.  But before he can make a move on you, Claire snaps the ropes around her like they're not even there and hits him from behind.  Her fangs are down and her eyes have gone yellow, and superstrength comes as naturally to her as breathing.

The bartender's taller and almost twice her mass though, and it doesn't take long before he has her pinned to the floor.  Almost the exact same way you did . . . God, yesterday.

"Claire look at me," you order.  "Look at me!"  Claire's terrified yellowed eyes lock with yours.  "We are not the same as the things we hunt," you tell her, making every word distinct.  "You hear me?  We are not the same, and we must fight, every minute of every day, to prevent becoming so."

"Please, and you're so fucking civilized," the bartender sneers.  "You kill helpless people that never hurt anybody, and in your world we're the monsters."

"You killed an eighteen year old boy, for meat," you retort.  "Shove your moral judgements up you ass."

And that's when the door caves in, driven by a kick from Sam.  Sam hits the bartender with a full body slam and they both go flying into a wall with a crunch.  Dean's right behind him with a knife, and when he sees you he cuts you free with a few neat slices.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Fine.  See to Claire," you say, working blood and feeling back into your numb limbs.

Dean helps Claire to her feet.  "Claire?"  Her head comes up, her mouth full of wolf fangs and her eyes shining gold and round.  "Hey, easy, come on--"

She throws him into the wall.  You leap onto her back but she grabs your arm and flips you to the floor.  You roll out of the way just in time to avoid a punishing kick.

"Woah woah woah woah!  Take it easy--" Dean tries again, deflecting a few clawing swipes.  She manages a good one across his leg.  Dean's trying his damndest to defend himself without hurting her but Claire's out of control and she's fast.

You grab a rope from the floor and throw it over her head, stopping just shy of enough force to choke her.  You make yourself ignore her cries and hang on.  "Guys--"

In the corner of your eye you see the bartender go down and Sam land on his back.  "MICK, HURRY!"

Producing a syringe from God knows where, Mick stabs it into the bartender's back.  The bartender whiplashes his head back, catching Sam in the nose and knocking him out cold.  Mick grabs him in a sleeper hold but the bartender throws him off before Mick can get a good grip.

Claws rake over your side as Claire twists enough to reach, and you lose your grip.  "HEY!" Dean shouts, and when Claire turns her attention that way Dean says, "Sorry kid," and lays her out with a punch in the jaw.  The bartender lunges for Dean, and two gunshots ring out.  The bartender drops, dead before he hits the floor.

Mick holsters his weapon and plucks the ampule full of blood off the bartender's back.  "Find a vein," he snaps at you as he pulls a little zipper case out of his chest pocket.

"Right.  Belt," you say to Dean and he yanks it off and hands it over.  "Hold her down in case she comes to," and Dean rolls Claire to her back and drapes his torso over her hips.  Sam's just coming around; he takes the situation in an eyeblink and holds down Claire's legs.

"She wanted this.  Right?" Dean asks Sam.

"Oh yeah," Sam confirms.

You cinch Dean’s belt around Claire’s bicep.  Thank God, Claire's got nice big veins.  She's just starting to moan her way back to consciousness when Mick slips the needle in and injects the cure.

Claire's eyes blink wide.  Her body convulses and everybody leaps away.  Screaming in pain, she rolls to her knees and curls up in a tight little kowtow.

---

It goes on like that for the rest of the night.  Dean sits backwards in one of the café chairs, blood crusted on his shredded pant leg.  Sam gets out the scuffle with some bruised ribs and a monster headache.  Mick's still favoring one arm from earlier and he's sporting a hell of a shiner.  All three men look pale as cream, watching Claire writhing on the couch.  You're bathing her forehead with cool washcloths and letting her scent your wrist.  No idea if it's helping or making things worse, but you don't want her to feel you leaving.

"How long does this process take?" you ask Mick.

"I don't know!" he whisper-screams at you.  "It could take hours or days!"  You bite your lips to keep from asking, if Mick brought the tranquilizers and the silver nitrate.  If this doesn't work you're going to do what you can to make sure Claire passes painless, going to sleep and never waking up.

Dean abruptly gets to his feet, muttering something about needing air.  You could hate him in that moment, you really could.  An Alpha has the luxury of display, you recall from the one comportment class your mother forced on you.  An Omega must be made of sterner stuff.

Claire arches back as every muscle in her body seizes.  She howls, long and agonal, and slumps back on the couch cushions.

You rest your fingers over Claire’s pulse.  “Her heartbeat’s really irregular,” you report.

Mick nods.  “Stand by to start chest compressions,” he says.

“Wait,” you say.  Her jaw and mouth are shifting, subtly.  “Claire?” you ask, as Sam yells for Dean and Dean bursts in through the ruined door.  “Claire-ree, can you hear me?  C’mon, open up those baby blues for us.”

Claire’s eyes flutter open.  Pure blue, deep lakes and Midwestern skies.  “You guys look like crap,” she croaks.

“You look worse,” you retort, and you and Claire share a painful little laugh.

---

With the resilience of the young, Claire’s back on her feet after a few hours sleep and a solid breakfast.  “That girl is a walking miracle,” Mick notes the next morning as Claire stuffs her gear into her car.

“In many ways,” you agree.  You and Claire had drunk a couple beers and gotten to talking as you'd worked together cleaning and dressing the claw marks on your side, the kind of girl talk you suspect she wouldn’t be comfortable having with the boys.  In the process she’d told you about letting Castiel possess her, and watching her father begging to take her place.  You’re still not sure how you feel about that; Cas is your brother now, but . . .

“Listen, uh,” Dean says to Mick, and you put away your brooding for now.  “Thanks for the win back there.”

“So,” Mick says, sounding a little bit hopeful, “we’re good?”

“Not quite, but we’ll give you a second chance,” Sam replies.

“Just don’t fuck it up.  There won’t be a third,” Dean adds.

“Okay,” Mick accepts.

“And we’re gonna want to know more about this Code,” you say.

Before Mick can formulate a response, Claire comes over.  “Hey.”

“Hey.  How you feeling?” Sam asks.

Claire smiles.  She really is breathtakingly beautiful.  “Honestly?  I’m sort of craving a Milk Bone right now.”  She swallows.  “Look, um . . . what I said before . . . you guys are here when I need you, and that’s all that matters.”

“You gonna tell Jody what happened?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” Claire admits.  You bite back your opinions; Claire already knows them and this isn’t the time for an argument.  You stand by your remarks to Dean.  Claire's a grown woman and has the right to decide how much she shares of her life.

“Well whatever you decide, we got your back,” Dean tells her.  He opens his arms and Claire steps into them, letting him hold her close.  Sam does the same; she looks tiny in his embrace.  They’d make wonderful fathers, your boys, and it’s viciously unfair they’ll never get the chance.

You put your hand on Claire’s shoulder.  She turns and throws her arms around you.  “Here,” you hand her a card.  “Anything you need, call me-- backup, expertise, someone to bitch to besides law enforcement.”

“I will,” Claire promises.

She looks over at Mick, who’s hanging back.  She grabs him in a fierce hug.  “Thank you,” she says.

Slowly, like a man who isn’t used to being touched, Mick’s arms go around her to hold her gently.  “You’re very welcome, miss.”  He touches the back of a knuckle to her cheek.  “Take care of yourself Claire.”

“So!” Dean says as the four of you watch Claire get into her car, her phone held up to her ear, “that was fun.”

“’Bout as fun as a root canal,” you grumble.  Baby growls up and the good guys pile in.  “Homeward, Jeeves.”

---

“Oh God, fuck!” you cry out.

Dean’s beyond articulation, he's all animal grunts and moans.  His hips snap into yours, burying all his cock inside you again and again.  You force your knees apart so far you can feel tendons straining.  Anything to get your mate closer, get more of him inside where he belongs.

As your arms collapse and your front end slumps over, Dean drags you upright.  Those big, clever hands are everywhere.  Everywhere he touches, the nerves fucking riot.  If sex had ever felt anything near this good you don’t remember.  You vaguely recall thinking, it was just a cycle, nothing you and Dean haven’t gone through already.  You weren’t prepared for this.  Your heat; it’s deeper, hungrier, now that it has a specific target.  Not just Alpha.  Your Alpha.

You cry out, “No!” when Dean suddenly withdraws.

“Wanna see your face,” he pants, flipping you onto your back.  He pumps his cock once as he guides himself back to your soaked, slick pussy.  You throw your legs up over his hips as he slides in, as he goes right back to fucking every single cell of your brains out.  You cough out a giggle when Dean clonks his forehead to yours.  “Shut up,” he heaves, holding your eyes to his with a hand on your jaw.  They’re gleaming, the green deep and dark and beautiful.

You clamp yourself around Dean when you finally come, in a harsh burst of light and dark and just . . . force.  Arms and legs and pussy, all of it holding him to you tight.  “Oh baby,” you pant, almost weeping.  That wasn’t a climax-- it was a fucking fusion explosion, the kind that ignites stars and sets galaxies whirling.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, panting like he just got done sprinting around the world.  “Yeah.”  Careful of your knotted together bodies, Dean rolls to his back.  You shiver as he shifts inside you.  God you're so . . . blown away the aftershocks almost hurt.

You lie together in warmth and quiet, as Dean’s knot eventually collapses and your cunt lets him go.  Dean fluffs at your cropped hair, making you giggle and kiss over his heart.

“It keeps getting better,” you say.

“Mmm?” Dean grunts.

“Every time,” you say.  “I keep thinking, yep, this is the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.  And it keeps getting better.  How do you even do that?”

Gleaming with pride, Dean kisses you.  “Grading on a curve?”

Giggling, you smack his arm.  “Oh knock it off, your ego’s big enough.”

“I didn’t think it’d be like this either,” Dean says.  “I mean, I thought-- I mean, the closest thing I ever had to, y’know, this, was Lisa.  And . . . I . . .” Dean trails off, searching for words.  “I cared about her, a lot.  Wasn’t like this.  Not even close.”

“She’s a Beta, right?” you ask.  Dean’s nothing if not a considerate lover but there’s still physical challenges involved when a knot goes near a hole not designed for it.

“Yeah.  And that’s-- it’s part of it, yeah.”  Dean goes quiet, one hand warm on your back.  You’re fine with quiet.  Who wants to hear about The Ex four seconds after getting their world rocked to the molten core?  “It wasn’t real though.  Not really.  I wasn’t . . . me, then.  I wanted it to be.  But . . . it didn’t fit right, you know?  I thought-- I thought I could just . . . not be me, when I was with them.”

"What's so awful about being you?" you ask.

Dean recoils a little.  "You're kidding right?"

You look into his face.  "Dude it's not your fault the forces of evil want to take a bite out of your ass.  Shit, I applaud their good taste."

Dean scowls.  "That's not funny."

"It's a little funny."

"Not."

You sigh.  "You're never gonna completely forgive yourself for that whole situation are you?"

"I shouldn't," Dean says.  "I mean, I swore-- I caught Ben playing around with one of my shotguns once, and I swore-- I swore, as long as I was around he'd never shoot a gun.  Then Sam calls and what do I go and do?  I run off.  If I'd really cared about him, I would've told Sam to stick it--"

You snort.  "Yeah, that's never happening.  Look," you say, and hope like hell you're not sticking your foot in your mouth, "if it hadn't been Sam it would've been something else.  You can't . . . I don't think you could turn your back on the bad guys forever.  That doesn't make you bad.  Not being suited for normal doesn't make you a bad man, man.  You did the best you could with the shit situation you got handed to you."

"So did Dad," Dean says.  "And look how that turned out."

"Don't say that," you tell him.  "You're not personally responsible for the shit state of the world and you did the best you could to mitigate the damage.  Baby you gotta let the rest go.  As much of it as you can anyway."  You stretch up and kiss him, gently.

“Anyway, what I started to say was . . .” Dean trails off again.  “Loving you . . . I mean, being in love with you . . . I mean, it feels like it’s something that just is.  I don’t have to worry about who I am when I’m with you.  Because who I am-- that guy loves you.  I think he always did.”

“Referring to ourselves in the royal we now?” you tease.  As the words leave your mouth though, a tear falls out of your eye and splats down onto Dean’s chest.

“Fuck, baby, don’t cry--”

“I’m not,” you sniffle.  “Post-world-rocked blowback.”

“I rocked your world?”

“Knocked the building down.  You’re a mighty mountain shaking Alpha of a man, Dean Winchester.”

That gets your face seized in a fierce kiss, Dean speaking with his body the way he does when the words won’t come.  You answer him with yours as best you can, kissing along his jaw and down his neck.  Love and family-- after years of living on the shallow sips of professional acquaintance, you’re knelt by an oasis drinking deep.  Water and shade and flowers under the desert sun.

You smile against Dean’s mouth.  Dammit, love’s making your flowery.  But beneath the sweet metaphors and soft feelings is something hard and watchful, and it makes a decision right about the time Dean buries his head between your legs and has you for dessert.

---

In your experience, it’s always a table for two in a dim and quiet restaurant.  The other person is always an older gentleman with courtly manners and dead eyes.  He sips tea from a Russian style glass-in-metal cup.  “You have been our friend for many years and never asked for anything in return.  Then you ask for a very large favor and come to ask another.”

“That’s right.”  Unnecessary talk isn’t welcome here.  You’re an ally, not a confidant-- best for all concerned it stays that way.

The elderly gentleman takes a baranki as you decant more tea from the samovar on the table.  The scent of citrus and sugar floats on the rising steam.  “Steadfast friendship should be rewarded.  Tell me what you need.”

You outline the situation, noting the lack of surprise in the elderly gentleman’s face.  That could mean a lot of things though.  Or it could mean nothing.  The elderly gentlemen do not reveal their feelings, certainly not to you.  “I need to know everything.  Their leadership, their history.  Their allies and their enemies.  Assets and liabilities.  Everything.”

“This is a very large favor,” the elderly gentleman notes again.

“Too large?” you ask.

“Perhaps.  Perhaps not.”  He studies you a moment, with the eyes of a scientist examining a cell as it dies on a microscope’s slide.  “May I know why you agreed to collaborate with these . . . Men Of Letters if you do not trust them?”

 “Because on the face of it, they’re right.  Centralization and coordination would let us push back against the enemy in ways we can’t working alone.  Honestly, I’m probably just being paranoid.”

“Your instincts have guided you true for many years now.  They are worth listening to.”  The elderly gentleman thaws, just a little.  “You must love him very much.”

It’s a fact, that’s all.  Peg’s friends need to know.  “With every fiber of my being.”

The elderly gentleman nods.  “We will do what we can for you.  I must ask this-- does your mate know of your association with us?”

“He knows I have allies I haven’t told him about and that I do them favors,” you say.  “I’ll have to tell him the rest someday.”

“You will warn us before you do.”  It’s not a request and you nod.  The elderly gentleman finishes his tea and rises, bending to kiss your cheeks.  “Shchisleevava putee.”

“Spasibo.  Do svidanya.”

You linger over your tea a while after he leaves.  We must be what we are, else we become our enemies, another elderly gentleman had said to you once, the first time your impulse for pity backfired and people died.  We are not the same as the things we hunt, and must fight every minute of every day to never become so, your own voice many times over the years-- in plea, in instruction, in explanation.

Your continued relations with the monstrous people is in service of an older, darker truth.  One of the harsh things you and Dean share.  The grease on the slippery slope, the bed under the road paved with good intentions.

There is nothing beneath me when it comes to protecting my family.

---

AN2: Russian: "Safe journey." "Thank you. Goodbye."

The Battle of Cassino was an attempt by the Allies to neutralize enemy positions around the historic Benedictine abbey on top of Monte Cassino, part of the larger campaign to capture Rome. To make a very long story short, it was a bloody affair that took four months and ended with roughly 75,000 total casualties. Allied forces finally captured the abbey on May 18, 1944. Rome itself fell on June 4.

Starting to go seriously AU, so the next installment might not be for a while. Don't worry, we're not done here. Not by a long shot.