#pls be freaks about it with me..

[itsjaywalkers]

nada que perder: the sequel

part 1

jegulus microfic (that isn't actually a microfic) | 7.9k (lol) | very questionable age gap (we're so back babeyyy) (nothing happens in this one either but do not fret . jegulus grooming we're getting closer) | unrequited love (OR IS IT..) | james has a gun in this one.. and considering his behaviour he really shouldn't | dedicated to my beloved @yipyipyap <3 number 1 fan of this au <3

James is hiding under the stairs in the courtyard, hoping that Andromeda won’t go out on the balcony until he’s done with his fag. She isn’t against smoking, exactly—she indulges in it whenever she drinks or is especially stressed, so it’d be quite hypocritical on her part. But still, he isn’t fond of James doing it around the kids. Andromeda and Alphard fight constantly over it, because Alphard just can’t quit it—although, it’s not like he tries—and James has seen how vicious they both can become. He refuses to be included, even if that means stepping outside and dealing with Manchester’s cold wind whenever he craves some nicotine.

The plan was to only have one and then go back upstairs, because they’re supposed to have lunch all together at The Marauder, the Lupins’ pub, but Tonks had been protesting, saying they already had plans with some friends. Ted didn’t seem too fussed about it, but James had noticed the look in Andromeda’s eye and he hadn’t liked it. You can never be sure, because she gives in very easily when her kid is involved, but it had felt like an argument was brewing.

He had thought it better to not be there for it. Tonks always tries to get him on their side, because James has always been a sort of ‘cool uncle’ figure for them and Regulus, even though he’s actually not related to them. It wouldn’t end well for James. He’s never been good under pressure, and Andromeda can be downright terrifying when she wants to.

Besides, there’s also the fact that he, Alphard and Frank are in the middle of a case right now. Stupid Lucius isn’t happy about the mess they made last time, even if they solved it in the end, so they’ve been trying to be on their best behaviour. Which, unfortunately, means they’re at his beck and call, making an effort to never talk back—James had almost slipped up thrice just that morning—and following protocol to a tee.

Orion has refused to give them anything with substance since they were transferred. He has refused to even acknowledge them during meetings, or when they run into each other in the halls of the station. And listen, James is definitely not complaining; that asshole hates his guts, and it’s very much mutual. But that doesn’t change that Orion is the superintendent and they kind of need his approval on almost everything they do.

Considering he probably just brought them to his station as punishment and to make their lives fucking miserable, they have no other option but to prove themselves by their own merits and climb up the ladder. That way, Orion will have no choice but to acknowledge them.

The issue is that they’ve never been very orthodox in their methods. And it had been fine, before, when most of their fuck ups were easily fixable and the good outweighed the bad. Now they’re being forced to work under harsh conditions. Having to answer to people like Orion Black and Lucius Malfoy.

Although, and if James is being honest, Lucius has been suspiciously merciful. Or, well, as merciful as someone like him can be.

James hates it, even if it works in their favour. He doesn’t want to feel like he owes anything to that man.

Lucius had allowed them to leave a bit reluctantly, after Alphard had lied about having a family emergency. The possibility of him calling them back to the station is quite high, however, and Andromeda never reacts well when lunch is interrupted by work matters.

He’s about to finish the cigarette, still debating if having a second one would be the smartest course of action, when he hears it.

“I swear, dude, he’s so fucking fit!”

James blinks, straightening up slightly before he takes a little peek from where he’s hiding under the stairs. The courtyard is open for everyone in the building, but the few times he’s come out for a smoke he’s barely seen anyone. Most people seem to prefer lounging on their own balconies, and apart from children playing around sometimes and the occasional old woman, it tends to be empty.

He catches sight of a couple of teenagers; they seem to be around Regulus’ age, but considering the leather jackets, the ripped jeans and all the piercings, they’re definitely not the kind of company Alphard would like for his nephew.

The one who has apparently made the comment is tall and lanky, his eyes a dark green and a ring on his lower lip. He has light brown hair, a few strands dyed a hideous shade of green, and his clothes seem to be at least a size or two bigger than him. James can’t help but squint his eyes a bit at him. He had been no saint when he was younger, and it’s not like he is now, despite being fucking cop, but James doesn’t like his vibes.

The other bloke isn’t much better. He’s shorter but tall nonetheless, and bigger in size, even though James has a feeling the other one would be a lot more ruthless in a fight. He sports a buzzcut and his eyes are a light shade of blue, cold and lifeless. Both his right eyebrow and the left side of his nose are pierced, and if James didn’t know any better, he’d swear there’s a tattoo peeking from the collar of his shirt.

James can’t help but scoff under his breath. He shakes his head lightly, taking another drag of his cigarette and deciding that he’ll go back inside as soon as he’s done. But as he’s about to step from under the stairs, something in the kids’ conversation catches his attention.

“Mate, I know you’re down to shag everyone and everything, but c’mon, you gotta be making this shit up,” the one with the buzzcut is saying, eyes narrowed. “There’s no way a bloke can be that hot. There’s just no way.”

“Just wait ‘til you see him,” the lanky guy retorts, and for some reason, he tilts his head back, eyes jumping from one balcony to another. “He’s prettier than most of the girls I’ve seen.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing, mate—”

“Trust me on this, okay?”

“Crouch, I wouldn’t trust you even if you paid me—”

“You’ll understand when you see him. You’re gonna be eating your fucking words, Mulciber.”

“Whatever.” Mulciber (?) rolls his eyes. “Why are you so sure he’ll show up, huh?”

“We’re neighbours,” Crouch responds, all his attention on the balconies surrounding the courtyard. “He moved here recently, and with his whole family, I think. There’s so many of them. I’ve only seen him and his brother. And his mum. I think it’s his mum, anyway, but she looked very young.”

“Teen mum, probably,” Mulciber mutters with a shrug. “Wouldn’t surprise me if they moved to this shithole.”

Crouch snorts. “That’s what I thought too. Anyways, Regulus—that’s his name—likes to sit on the balcony to read. And I’ve caught him people watching before, so—”

James nearly stops listening after that name is so casually dropped. There’s a soft ringing in his ears, and his hands keep clenching and unclenching, clenching and unclenching, as if they can’t decide if they want to curl into fists or not.

He hadn’t cared much about what they’re discussing. Just kids being kids, right? Being inappropriate about another kid who they fancy, or want to shag, or whatever, just like kids their age usually do. Now, though? Oh, now it feels personal. And definitely not as innocent as James had originally thought.

“Regulus?” Mulciber repeats, a bit incredulous, before he lets out a laugh. One of James’ eyes twitches. “That’s a weird fucking name, man.”

“Well, he is a bit weird,” Crouch concedes with a tilt of his head.

“You talk like you know him.”

“I mean, not really, but we did talk a little when I helped him move some boxes the day he moved in. And Mulciber, dude, he was wearing the tiniest shorts I’ve ever seen. I thought I was gonna pop a boner right then and there—”

“You’re such a fucking perv,” Mulciber sniggers, elbowing Crouch on his side, who retaliates without missing a beat, a chuckle slipping past his lips.

James is gritting his teeth so hard his jaw is beginning to hurt, the rest of his cigarette practically consumed by now and crushed between his pursed lips.

“As if you aren’t worse than me,” Crouch retorts.

“I don’t know, mate, I don’t stalk any of my neighbours—”

“You’re gonna be changing your tune so fucking quickly when you actually see him—”

“Yeah, you keep saying that, but I’m not so sure. First of all, I don’t usually like blokes like that. And second of all, you don’t discriminate much, and you tend to have the weirdest taste ever—”

“Okay, shut up, he’s there,” Crouch hisses excitedly, hitting Mulciber on the side of his arm. “He’s actually there, fuck—”

“Wait, seriously?” Mulciber’s eyes widen and then he’s blinking quickly as he attempts to follow Crouch’s line of sight. He even slides closer to him, his gaze searching like mad until it finally settles. His mouth parts in a silent exhale. “Fucking hell, you were right.”

James is also following suit, head snapping up and eyes already zeroing on the balcony he knows to belong to Alphard’s flat. Like Crouch said, Regulus is there, and he seems to be looking for something inside of one of the couple of boxes lying on the floor. He has this little furrow between his eyebrows, the one that indicates he’s concentrating hard and that James has always found to be incredibly adorable, and his tongue is peeking from between his teeth.

The issue is that apart from an oversized shirt that probably belongs to either Alphard or his brother, and his underwear, Regulus doesn’t seem to be wearing anything else.

“I told you,” Crouch exclaims, gaze following every single one of Regulus’ movements. “I fucking told you.”

“You really did,” Mulciber breathes out, a bit in awe. He whistles softly. “Shit, look at those legs.”

“I know,” Crouch sighs dreamily. “And the waist, dude.”

“Yeah. He’s a bit feminine, though, don’t you think?”

“Just how you like ‘em.”

“Piss off. Thought you weren’t gonna share.”

“And I’m not.”

“Well, mate, you’ll have to because there’s no way I’m not tapping that at least once—”

A gust of wind lifts Regulus’ shirt up for a few seconds, and the boy seems too busy fighting off a shiver to bother pulling it back down. There’s a flash of the flat of his stomach, the paleness of his skin littered with moles, the dip of his hips. And worst of all, they all catch sight of his underwear, which is a light purple and adorned with a little bow, and looks suspiciously like—

“Panties,” Crouch murmurs, and when James focuses on him once again, he’s disgusted to find him almost drooling, eyes dark. “Holy shit, dude, he’s wearing panties.”

“What the fuck,” Mulciber says, shaking his head like he can barely believe it. James isn’t even sure he’s breathing. “What the fuck.”

“Fuck me, that’s so hot—”

“Mate, I’ve never been so thankful for the wind in my fucking life—”

“I know right—”

“What kind of bloke just walks around his house wearing panties? Not that I’m complaining, but—”

“Oh, dude, I bet he’s a slag, he’s basically asking for it—”

James spits his cigarette out and then he’s pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek, a disbelieving laugh escaping his mouth. His eyes look up to the sky for a moment or two before he begins to make his way towards the two boys, a dangerous grin curving his lips.

It takes them a few seconds to notice his presence, too busy ogling Regulus like the fucking creeps they are, but when they do, they both take an instinctive step back. Mulciber mostly seems to be taken aback, but Crouch is wary, a frown twisting his features.

“Hello there,” James greets them, hands slipping into the pockets of his denim jacket. “Having fun?”

“Hey, mate,” Mulciber responds a bit hesitantly. “We were just—”

“What the hell do you want?” Crouch asks him almost at the same time.

James’ smile widens, and he raises his hands in mock surrender. “So hostile,” he chastises with a disappointed shake of his head.

“You came out of fucking nowhere,” Crouch huffs out. “And you don’t look familiar. I don’t think I’ve seen you around—”

“I mean, you seem quite busy perving on that kid, so I’m not surprised you didn't notice me.”

Crouch stiffens immediately, a scowl taking over his expression, and Mulciber gulps, glancing at his friend briefly before he takes another step back.

“Didn’t know looking was a crime,” Crouch snarks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s not,” James concedes, nodding slowly, almost considering. “But it’s fucking disgusting.”

Crouch scoffs loudly, and somehow, James’ grin spreads further at the noise. It also becomes considerably sharper.

“What’s it to you?” Crouch questions, moving forward, attempting to get in James’ space, intimidate him. He has the height, that’s for sure, even though James is convinced he has an inch or two on the boy. But knowing what he knows, the kind of training he’s undergone, and the fact that he’s currently armed, James kind of wants to laugh. “Huh? It’s none of your fucking business, dude. And it’s not like we’re harming anyone—”

“Maybe.” James shrugs with one shoulder. “It’s really pissing me off, though. And you don’t want to piss me off, kiddo.”

“The fuck?” Crouch mutters with an incredulous laugh. He tilts his head back just to glance at his friend briefly, who’s shooting daggers at him, before he focuses on James once again. “Who do you think you are? I don’t care about your feelings, dude. Did we offend you? What, are you two much of a pussy to deal with a couple of dirty comments?”

James arches an eyebrow, his fingers twitching at his sides with the need to reach for his gun. He isn’t going to. There’s no need to escalate the situation, and the kid is right, it’s not like they had been doing anything illegal, no matter how furious James is about the whole thing. Besides, he isn’t the type to use a weapon against someone who’s unarmed. That’s simply not the kind of person, or cop, James wants to be.

But god, does he want to.

“Listen, mate, I’m not looking for trouble, okay?” James tells him, doing his goddamn best to keep himself calm. “But I won’t tolerate you talking about him like that—”

“No one’s asking you to,” Crouch snaps, jaw clenched. “You weren’t even part of the conversation.”

“That’s not—”

“And besides, if he didn’t want anyone looking, then perhaps he shouldn’t be prancing around wearing fucking panties.”

James grits his teeth together so harshly he swears he hears something crack. “He’s at home. He’s allowed to wear whatever the hell he wants. That’s not an invitation for guys like you to stare like creeps—”

“He’s out on the balcony,” Crouch retorts, smirking at James, so annoyingly self-assured. “Everyone can see him. And he doesn’t seem very concerned about it.”

“He shouldn’t have to. He deserves to be comfortable around his flat without having to consider desperate lonely assholes who resort to stalking a kid to try and find some wanking material.”

Crouch blinks at him a couple of times, like he’s a little surprised by the sudden display of aggressiveness. Sure, James’s irritation had been noticeable from the beginning, which is probably the main reason why Crouch got immediately defensive.

But even James can admit that his anger is beginning to get away from him, and that’s never a good sign. It happens often, more than he’d like to admit, but he swears he usually has more self-restraint. Especially when teenagers are involved.

Crouch is just being this confrontational because his friend is with him. James knows the type a little too well; he’s encountered them a dozen times, arrested a handful too, and then let them go with just a light slap on the wrist. He always goes a bit soft on them, because they’re just kids being stupid, and he used to be as bad, if not worse, than them.

James is aware of all this, just like he’s aware of the fact that he’s overreacting, and he should’ve just given them a warning and gone back inside. He never meant to get derailed like this. Honestly, he’s taking so long he’s a bit surprised Andromeda or Sirius haven’t come out to get him.

But his brain seems very against cooperating. James can feel whatever little rationality he possesses slipping through his fingers, and truth be told, he isn’t even actually trying to grab it.

“You’re way too bothered about this,” Crouch unnecessarily points out after a beat, looking James up and down, searching for something.

James exhales loudly through his nose. “Just because you clearly lack some common decency—”

“Nah, don’t try to give me that shit,” Crouch interrupts him, waving his hand around lazily. “Who’s Reg to you? Because you definitely know him.”

James has to bite his tongue to stop himself from barking at Crouch for daring to use a nickname for Regulus when they barely know each other. Crouch merely helped him with some boxes, and he clearly had ulterior motives, anyway. If James has anything to say in the matter—and he fucking does—that’s as far as their interactions will go.

“You his uncle or something?” Crouch goes on, unrelenting. “Step-dad? Family friend?”

He rolls his eyes, and is about to tell Crouch to fucking quit it, because James has no intentions of entertaining this, or satisfy his curiosity, when Crouch’s mouth twists into something more sinister, a dangerous glint shining in his gaze.

“Or,” Crouch continues, voice going low, “maybe you also wanna shag him.”

James’ breath stutters in his chest, eyes widening in pure, unfiltered shock, his mind refusing to even consider processing the sentence that just left Crouch’s mouth. Part of James just wants to laugh until tears are running down his face, while another feels ill enough he worries he might be about to be sick.

He doesn’t even get a chance to decide on a proper reaction before Crouch presses on, acting like he’s oh so clever but clearly not enough to know when to quit it.

The kid must lack a sense of preservation. There’s no other explanation.

“Is that it?” Crouch shakes his head, tutting at James. “Oh, that’s hilarious. And fucking vile. You gotta be, at least, in your mid-thirties. I bet you only caught us looking because you were doing the same. Is that what does it for you? Pretty, seventeen year old boys wearing panties? Not like I can blame you. He’s definitely a sight for sore eyes. I don’t even wanna imagine how many times you’ve gotten off to—”

Crouch never manages to finish his awful spiel, because James is pulling out his gun, seeing fucking red, almost shaking with the fury coursing through his veins. His blood is boiling while he pushes the barrel of the gun into Crouch’s forehead, taking sick satisfaction in the way the boy pales, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out of it.

Mulciber lets out what can only be a squeal, and when James lays eyes on him, the boy takes a couple of steps back, readying himself to turn away and run. James only needs to arch an eyebrow at him and shift his wrist a little, enough for the gun to be pointed at him instead, to make him freeze.

He isn’t one to enjoy a power trip, not under these circumstances, when he's basically threatening a couple of teens, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t delight in the fear in their eyes. In watching all that bravado vanish from Crouch’s expression, from his pose.

“Not so brave now, are you?” James asks Crouch with a quirk of his mouth. The boy just stares at him in silence, lips pursed and shoulders stiff. “C’mon, up against the wall, both of you.”

They both hesitate; Mulciber as if he’s struggling to get his limbs to cooperate, and Crouch in a last attempt at defiance.

James lets out a mirthless chuckle, his head giving a disappointed shake.

“I don’t like repeating myself,” he hisses, tone hard and cold. “I said up against the wall. Now.”

It still takes them a couple more seconds, but the moment James clicks his tongue, his hold tightening around the gun, both boys finally move, rushing to one of the walls in the courtyard. James can tell they’ve been stopped by the police before, with the way they stand facing the wall and immediately lift their hands and put them flat against the cold stone.

They probably have never been this close to a gun, though, if Mulciber’s trembling and the tension hanging off Crouch’s soldiers is anything to go by.

“Listen, man we—we didn’t mean to—” Mulciber starts, tripping all over his words. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and James wishes he could feel any pity for him.

“Did I say you could speak?” James cuts him off, leaning forward until he’s sure Mulciber can feel the heat of his body, the barrel of the gun grazing the back of his head. “Shut your fucking mouth before you make this worse for yourself.”

Mulciber nods fast and urgent, pressing his lips tight together and shutting his eyes briefly.

“This time, I’m gonna talk and you’re gonna listen,” James goes on, shifting his attention to Crouch, who’s openly glaring at the wall in front of him. When James moves the gun and presses it against the boy’s nape, Crouch inhales a bit shakily. “I don’t want to see you around Regulus ever again. In fact, don’t even look in his general direction. For all intents and purposes, he doesn’t exist to you, okay?”

“You’re a fucking freak,” Crouch spits out through gritted teeth. “What would Reg think if—”

“You won’t finish that sentence if you know what’s good for you, Crouch,” James cuts him off swiftly, his tone eerily calm. “And while we’re on the topic, quit it with the nickname, will ya? It’s not like you’re ever gonna be close enough with Regulus to be allowed to use it, anyway.”

“I was right, you really wanna fuck him,” Crouch retorts in a snarl, turning his head a little, just so his green eyes can bore into James’ brown ones. “How aren’t you ashamed of yourself? I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror if I were you. You’re the one who shouldn’t be around him—”

James digs the gun into Crouch’s skin to the point he’s convinced it must sting, but the boy doesn’t so much as flinch. Still, it has the desired effect, and Crouch closes his mouth, his words dying in his throat.

“I’m a very reasonable man, Crouch, but you’re testing my bloody limits,” James tells him, using the weapon to tilt the boy’s head forward, until his forehead is pressed uncomfortably into the wall. “Take Regulus’ name out of your goddamn mouth or I promise I’ll put a bullet in your skull.”

Mulciber lets out a choked off noise, but James doesn’t even bother glancing at him. His eyes are fixed on Crouch, who manages a small grin that looks more like a sneer than anything else.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Crouch mutters. James doesn’t understand how he can still talk back when he literally has a gun to his head, and he can’t help but admire the boy slightly. You gotta be very bold. Or very stupid.

James chuckles lowly, fingers caressing the weapon, playing with the idea of cocking the gun just so Crouch can hear it. Actually feel the threat. “Fucking try me.”

“Barty, please—” Mulciber whispers shakily, voice sounding suspiciously wet.

James is opening his mouth, so furious he isn’t sure of what will come out of it this time, when someone else interrupts him.

“What the fuck!? James?” Regulus yells from somewhere to his right, and James nearly drops the gun.

He immediately steps away from the boys, his head whipping around in search of the owner of the voice. James’ eyes find Regulus already making his way down the stairs of the courtyard, and something inside seems to settle at the sight. He can hear Crouch and Mulciber murmuring to each other before they run away, taking advantage of James’ distraction, and he isn’t even annoyed about it. He doesn’t care, really. Not anymore.

Regulus is still clad in just the oversized shirt and those bloody panties, but he isn’t flashing anyone this time, which James—and his sanity—deeply appreciates. Regulus had also been smart enough to put on a pair of slippers before going outside. It wouldn’t be the first time Regulus decided to step into the courtyard barefooted and ended up hurting himself.

James rushes to his side, but Regulus takes a step back as soon as he reaches him, the frown twisting his features becoming more pronounced.

“Put the gun away,” Regulus snaps before James can ask. He blinks at the boy, and then down at the weapon, which is still between his fingers. He listens immediately, sticking it inside the waistband of his jeans and then raising both hands, showing Regulus his naked palms.

The boy appears to relax slightly, but the furrow between his eyebrows doesn’t disappear.

“Regulus, it’s too cold for you to be out like this. C’mon, let’s go back inside, and—” James begins, dropping his arms and extending one towards Regulus, who curls a little into himself to avoid the touch.

James swears he feels a pang in his chest at the action.

“What the fuck was that about?” Regulus cuts in, sharp and confused and bordering on upset. James has to make an active effort not to wince.

“Reggie—”

“No, stop it. None of that. I want you to explain.”

James slips a hand under his glasses to rub at his eyes, a soft sight making it past his lips. “It was—nothing, Reg, you don’t have to—”

“Nothing?” Regulus repeats with a scoff, disbelieving. “Really? Because it didn’t look like nothing. You were threatening two guys with your bloody gun in the middle of the courtyard, for fuck’s sake—”

“It was just—just a tiny misunderstanding,” James attempts to excuse himself, hating how high-pitched he sounds. He’s usually decent at lying; mostly, because his job requires him to do it often. “We were talking, and then, then the conversation got a bit out of hand—”

Regulus snorts, but the noise lacks amusement. “Oh, it got out of hand alright. That was my neighbour you were about to shoot—”

“Please, you know I wouldn’t have,” James sighs, rolling his eyes, and he means it. In a perfect world, he'd be able to shoot assholes with no consequences. Unfortunately, this isn’t a perfect world, and James is a bit too aware of what lines can never be crossed.

“I’m not so sure,” Regulus murmurs, the beginning of a pout pulling at his lips. “What has Barty even done to you?”

James’ face immediately twists into a scowl, both at the reminder of his whole argument with Crouch and at the casual manner in which Regulus says his name. From what James knows, Regulus and Crouch have only interacted one time, and it wasn’t anything purposeful, or memorable. He doesn’t like the familiarity in Regulus’ voice, or the use of a first name. Crouch isn’t the kind of friend James wants for Regulus.

“Barty,” James repeats, chewing the word, its taste unbearably sour. “Didn’t know you were so close,” he mutters a bit darkly.

“We’re not,” Regulus retorts without missing a beat, squinting his eyes at James.

“Well, it bloody seems like it—”

“James,” Regulus snaps, making him pause. “Answer the question.”

He blinks down at the boy a couple of times, but then he ends up letting out a quiet huff, scratching at the back of his head as he briefly averts his eyes.

It’s a bit ridiculous, the power this kid has over James. He can’t help but be embarrassed, sometimes, because Regulus shouldn’t be allowed to speak to him like this, to demand answers like he’s owed something, like James is at his fucking beck and call.

He is, though. And James is painfully aware that he’s the main responsible for that spoiled attitude of Regulus. He encourages it, even. Because no matter how much he chastises himself for being so lenient, so soft when it comes to the other boy. James can’t stop. He’d give Regulus the world if he asked.

“Crouch was being a fucking creep, okay?” James tells him, still avoiding the boy’s gaze. “Apparently he’s been stalking you, trying to get a peek. He even brought his friend with him.”

“What?”

“Yeah. They only came to the courtyard because they were hoping to catch you out on the balcony at some point.”

There’s a moment of silence, and when James finally chances a glance at Regulus, he finds him wrinkling his nose.

“What a weirdo,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t appear to be half as upset as James believes he should be. “It’s not like there’s much to see, anyway—”

“You’re basically half-naked,” James deadpans, staring pointedly at Regulus’ pale legs before his eyes settle on the boy’s face once more. “Not to mention, you’re wearing—”

James closes his mouth so fast his teeth click hard enough to make him see stars momentarily. Regulus tilts his head at him, mostly confused but also slightly wary, and James’ stomach turns uncomfortably.

“I’m wearing what?” Regulus questions, before he takes a step closer to James.

“It’s—it doesn’t matter.” James shakes his head.

“It clearly does, if it got you all worked up like that, to the point you pulled out your fucking gun,” Regulus presses, taking another step. And then another. And another. James has to force himself to stay put, to stop his face from doing anything weird, to keep his voice level.

“It doesn’t matter,” James reiterates, so fucking relieved at how calm he sounds. “Just make sure you keep your distance from those two. It’s clear they’re only interested in you for one reason, and that’s not the kind of company you wanna keep.”

“And how would you know that?”

“I just do.”

“Less than a week ago you were encouraging me to meet more people my age and make friends—”

“Not them,” James hisses, a muscle spasming on the side of his jaw. “Not them, Regulus.”

The boy raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s your choice.”

“I’m not claiming it is,” James sighs, unable to hide the exasperation in his voice. He never forgets the fact that Regulus is only seventeen, petty and stubborn and childish, but moments like these are quite the reminder. “I’m simply trying to look out for you, Reggie.”

“Of course,” Regulus scoffs, looking offended, and James can barely suppress the urge to throw his hands up in the air. What did he say now? “Because you always know better, right, James?”

“Um,” he begins, a little unsure, his palm rubbing at his stubble distractedly. “Kinda, yeah?”

Regulus’ mouth twitches until it curls into a snarl, and James curses himself inside his head, already itching to take it back, to fix it before Regulus can get properly angry at him.

“Not like there’s anything wrong with that!” he rushes to clarify, before Regulus even has the chance to open his mouth. “It’s just—well, natural, innit? It’s not because you’re stupid, Reggie, quite the opposite, really, and you know I trust you enough to know that you’ll make the right decisions—”

“But?” Regulus prompts, impatient, openly glaring at James. There’s nothing intimidating about the boy, and yet, James does feel the odd urge to cower under his gaze.

“But,” James goes on, doing his best to keep his tone soft and gentle, “I’m older than you,” he explains, not surprised in the slightest when Regulus rolls his eyes so hard his head tilts back. It doesn’t deter James. “I’m more experienced. That’s just life, love. Nothing wrong with that, and it doesn’t mean that you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re just a kid—”

“I’m not a fucking kid,” Regulus snaps, and it’s harsh, bordering on vicious, and James is so taken aback it takes him a handful of seconds to manage a reply.

“You are,” James argues, careful but firm, wrinkles all over his forehead. “You are a kid, Regulus.”

The boy makes a derisive sound. “Only when it suits you.”

James furrows his eyebrows slightly even though his lips make an aborted attempt at curving into a small smile. He tries to swallow, but a knot seems to have settled at the back of his throat, uncomfortable and impossible to get rid of.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks Regulus, and he goes for lighthearted, almost teasing, he really does. James doesn’t think he quite manages it, however. Mostly, because he’s a bit terrified of the response.

“You tell me,” Regulus murmurs, shrugging lazily. “Were you looking?”

“Looking? At what?”

“You said Barty and his friend were basically perving on me. Were you, too?”

A wave of nausea assaults James’ entire body, and for a moment, he’s sure he’s about to start gagging. He shakes his head furiously, and a few times at that, just to make sure to get his point across, despite Regulus’ expression never changing.

God, James is dying to put some distance between them, but he doesn’t—he worries about Regulus misinterpreting it—

“No,” he states slowly, his tone not leaving any room for argument. “No. Fuck, Reggie, you know I would never. You’re—shit, you’re a child and I’m not—I wouldn’t—I don’t see you like that—”

“You sure?” Regulus crosses his arms over his chest, unimpressed by James’ distress. “Because you seemed very bothered about my outfit choice.”

“Not like that,” James groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just—they were being creeps, and I don’t like people seeing you like—like this and making such inappropriate comments, but it’s not—it was never about me, or how I feel. I don’t care about what you wear—”

“You don’t care that I’m wearing these?” Regulus interrupts him softly, and a second later he’s lifting his shirt, showing off the goddamn panties and part of his belly in the process.

A wave of unbearable heat begins to climb up James’ neck, and he doesn’t allow himself more than a brief peek—mostly due to his lack of preparation—before one of his arms is shooting out, fingers wrapping tightly around Regulus’ wrist.

“Regulus,” James whisper-yells, glancing around in mild panic as he moves impossibly closer to the younger boy, attempting to cover his body with his own as best as he can. “What the actual fuck are you doing, anyone can see—”

“Come on, no one’s outside, it’s just us—” Regulus protests with a roll of his eyes, but when James digs his fingers in just the slightest bit harder and tugs insistently, he doesn’t resist, allowing his shirt to be pulled back down.

“Yeah, I bet you thought that too when you were on the balcony,” James grumbles, not letting go of the younger boy even with the panties finally out of sight. He knows better than to trust Regulus when he gets like this.

"You're being so dramatic," Regulus says with a tilt of his head, hands still playing with the hem of his shirt. "So what if they looked? It's not illegal."

"It should be," James grunts, his hold on Regulus' wrist never faltering.

"Okay, but it isn't," Regulus insists. "They didn't try anything, they didn't say anything to me, they didn't—"

"You weren't there, Reg." James shakes his head, trying to get rid of the whole encounter, vanish every single one of Crouch's disgusting words, all of his false accusations. "You don't—it was fucking awful. Made me sick to my fucking stomach."

"Jamie," Regulus mutters softly, delicately, like he's speaking to a spooked animal. James should hate it, should shut it down immediately, because he's the one that's supposed to do the comforting. Always the protector, looking after his Reggie. "It's like you say. They're just kids. Kids being kids."

"Don't excuse them—"

"I'm not! I'm not. You just seem very upset, and I don't like that. I'm fine, yeah? I don't care about what they said. It doesn't matter—"

"But it does!" James explodes, raising his voice and hating himself a little for it. He runs his free hand through his hair, messing it all up, pulling at the roots. "It fucking does. No one should fucking dare to even think that kind of shit about you. You're—you're so good, Reggie, so very lovely, and I don't—I refuse to let you go through that. I'm not gonna let anyone make you feel like you're some—some kind of object—"

"James—"

"You're too young, you don't get it just yet, but it's not—I won't fucking stand for it, Reggie. It may be innocent now, or harmless, but it won't always be. And you deserve only the very best, okay? I'll make sure those assholes stay far, far away from you even if it's the last thing I do."

Regulus' eyes widen as he stares up at James, so bright they look like liquid silver.

"Is that why you seemed so angry?" Regulus questions, sounding a bit out of breath for some reason. "Why you pulled out your gun? For me?"

"Not my proudest moment," James sighs. He'd probably do it again, but that doesn't mean he isn't aware it's wrong. James doesn't doubt that Lucius would take his gun away if he ever found out. "But yes, of course it was for you. I didn't mean to lose my cool like that, I just wanted to—to scare them off so they'd leave you alone, but they—" James pauses to swallow, his mouth dry and his tongue tasting something bitter. "Crouch is fucking vile, Reggie. Please, stay away from him."

"Okay," Regulus agrees with astounding ease. James is convinced he's heard wrong at first, because after all the fight he's put up, he can't quite believe he's suddenly giving in. "You really did it for me?"

James raises both eyebrows. "Yes, Reg. There's no one else I'd risk my badge for."

Regulus giggles, giddy and slightly pink in the face, and James is helpless to the grin that takes over his expression. He still hasn't let go of Regulus' wrist, but his hold loosens considerably, his thumb caressing the skin slowly.

"Would you have shoot them, too?" the boy wonders, batting his lashes. "If they hadn't stopped?"

Yes.

The response comes unbridled, nearly tumbling out of James' mouth against his will. It feels quite overwhelming, the knowledge that he'd be willing to go that far for Regulus, turn away from his morals and everything he believes in without a second of hesitation.

It's a bit of a struggle, keeping it from slipping past his lips and swallowing it back down before it gets the chance to cause some damage.

"Obviously not," he lies with a teasing roll of his eyes. "That'd be fucking insane."

Regulus pouts at that answer, and James can only chuckle fondly, giving his wrist a light squeeze before he finally lets go.

"But I'll always be there to protect you, Reggie," he goes on with a smile, reaching out to twirl one of the boy's curls between his fingers. "I won't let anything bad happen to you."

"I know," Regulus sighs, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Good. Now let's get you back inside, yeah? It's freezing, and you're gonna catch a cold at this rate, dressed like that."

"Can we wait five more minutes? Andy and uncle Alphard were still arguing when I went to look for you."

James looks up at the sky and groans dramatically, dragging a tiny laugh out of Regulus. He ends up nodding a second later, because he really doesn't want to get involved in whatever it is that's going on inside that flat. He just wants to get some lunch. After that altercation with Crouch and Mulciber, and then Regulus' interruption, James is fucking starving. Pub food will surely fix this mess of a morning. Especially if said pub food is made by Hope Lupin.

"Yeah, sure, I'd rather avoid it, if possible," James mutters. As soon as the sentence is out of his mouth, a shiver rattles Regulus' entire frame, both his hands coming up to rub distractedly as his upper arms. James' expression twists in a frown. "Reggie, you can't—wait, lemme just—"

He shrugs his denim jacket off and rushes to wrap it around Regulus' shoulders, who flinches in surprise before he relaxes once again. It seems to take him a second, but then he's slipping his arms through the sleeves, the garment way too big on him. Regulus is basically swimming in it, and James has to swallow down a laugh while he adjusts the jacket as best as he can.

"But what about you?" Regulus questions, concern seeping into his words as he watches James fuss over him.

James shakes his head with half a smile, tugging the jacket as low as it'll go. He doesn't button it up, but he makes sure to close it slightly, so Regulus is as covered as possible.

"I'm fine," James reassures him, even with goosebumps breaking all over his now exposed arms. "You're the one who's barely wearing anything. Besides, if you get ill your uncle will kill me."

"Why would he?" Regulus grumbles, burrowing into the jacket. He gives the collar a little sniff, and James is sure he intended to be discreet, but he notices it anyway. It makes his smile widen slightly. "It'd be my fault."

"Maybe. But I can't just stand by and watch. You're shaking, love—"

"Only a little!"

"Please," James snorts, hands grazing the hem of the jacket before they slide lower, fingers settling on the boy's thighs, feeling the goosebumps all over Regulus' skin. "If you're gonna lie, at least do it well. I know you're freezing cold, Reggie, I can feel it."

A small, high-pitched noise escapes Regulus' lips, and his face seems to become a bit redder. James assumes the cold must be really getting to him, so with an amused huff, he begins to stroke up and down Regulus' thighs, hoping to help the boy warm up slightly.

Regulus makes another sound, and then he's pressing even closer to James, clutching at his chest and resting his forehead against James' sternum. Another shiver wracks his small body, and James grips at his thighs, fondling them a bit more harshly. He shushes Regulus when the boy whimpers softly, and James lowers his head enough to drop a kiss on top of his curls.

"Don't worry, love, we'll be back inside soon," James reassures him quietly, hands stroking and squeezing without pause. His fingers slip under the jacket and under the shirt, trying to reach as much skin as possible. "Honestly, only you'd think that coming outside in just a top and your underwear is a good idea. I hope you've learnt your lesson."

"You sound like—like uncle Alphard," Regulus retorts, stuttering all over his words and filling James with fondness. "He's always scolding me about my outfit choices."

"I'm inclined to agree with him this time."

"Well, don't. You're supposed to—to be on my side. Always, Jamie."

James exhales loudly through his nose, grinning, helplessly endeared.

"You make it a bit difficult sometimes, love," he says to the top of Regulus' head. "I mean, look at you, you can't stop shivering—"

"It's not because of the cold," Regulus murmurs. It comes out too low and slightly muffled; James doubts he would've heard it if it weren't for how close they're standing.

"No?" James asks, a teasing edge to his voice.

Regulus shakes his head a couple of times, and then he's looking up, his eyes a little glazed as he glances at James. He's quite red, and his breathing appears to be slightly uneven, panting through parted lips.

"You're—you're touching me," Regulus explains, and there's something about how he says it that makes James tense up immediately, stomach twisting. There's nothing wrong with the word in itself, but the way Regulus pronounces it, so full of implications… Well, it sounds dirty. "It feels very nice, Jamie."

"So? I touch you all the time," James points out, his tone carefully neutral. He hasn't pulled away just yet, but his hands have stopped all movement.

"Not like this," Regulus whispers, and James swallows with some difficulty.

"Regulus—" he starts, a little strained.

"Is it because of the panties? You like 'em that much?"

James jumps away from him as if burned, and without giving the boy a single second to react, he begins to make his way towards the stairs, desperate to put some distance between them, to find some witnesses, anything to stop whatever it is that's wrong with his fucking brain.

He thinks he hears Regulus calling after him, but James barely acknowledges it, curling into himself as he climbs the steps two at a time.

"Sorry, Reg, this wind is killing me, I can't do it, I'm going back inside!" he announces without even bothering to turn around and look at the boy, his voice close to breaking at the end. "Besides, if we don't leave soon, the pub is gonna be rammed!"

James can't tell if Regulus says anything in response, too busy trying not to trip in his haste to return to the flat. His face feels like it's on fucking fire, and his hands won't stop trembling where they're resting at his sides.

When he finally opens the door and a screaming match between Alphard, Andromeda and Sirius welcomes him, James can only let out a relieved sigh. He isn't even annoyed when Sirius notices him and decides to include him in whatever stupid fight they're in the middle of.

By the time Regulus slips inside, eerily silent, the argument is over, and everyone is getting ready to go to lunch. Andromeda takes one look at him and rushes him to get dressed, threatening to leave without him if he isn't ready in the next fifteen minutes.

James can feel Regulus' eyes on him the whole time. While the boy walks towards his room to get ready, on their way to the pub, during the meal, when Alphard stands up to take a call from, presumably, Lucius. Even while James sends a quick text to Frank, telling him to meet them at the station, and Sirius leans closer to his brother to make a very inappropriate comment about Remus, who's pouring a pint behind the bar.

He doesn't look back a single time.

[soranker]

DEEP💥SPACE💥PLANET💥FUTURE💥GUN💥ACTION❗️

[itsmespicaa]

The way I literally lost my mind when I saw them in the movie omg...after 40 years, my beloved twins are finally back together 😭🫶💖

(I spent like a good chunk of rewatches just trying to spot every single appearances of them HAHAHA- OTL i hope we DO get a sequel and when we do, hopefully the twins will be there too :"D)

[littlefankingdom]

Simple observation I made from reading these comics. DC, stop making their dad an asshole and make him hug them more.

Also, the hugs in these comics:

Tim's hug is not in Red Robin but it's during the run and when Bruce comes back in time.

Cass' hug is weird because they're suicidal freaks who think fighting is therapy. They fought while being drugged, and blew up a brigde. It makes sense for them only.

Jason's first hug (Outlaws) is after he tries to apologize for his crimes and Bruce refuses to let him to do it, because his boy is innocent for him 🥺 (and then, they fucked it up with Ethiopia because they cannot let them have nice things 🙄). The second one (Red Hood & Arsenal) is started by Jason, who is just very happy to see that Bruce is alive, even if he has lost his memory.

[partfae]

Sauron, Galadriel, & Tolkien's Theology of Repentance - Part One

Summary: Character meta analysis on Sauron (and Galadriel, through the lens of Sauron). Based on both Silmarillion & RoP canon. 3.5k words. Discussion of Catholic theology involved. Blanket TW for discussion of violence, manipulation, etc., because Sauron. Spoilers for S1 & S2 and the Silmarillion, of course. The tragedy of Sauron is that he gets offered so many legitimate chances at redemption and forgiveness, and he denies them every single time. But we know he wants absolution, because that’s what he sees Galadriel as: his chance to bind himself back to the light, to be Mairon again, to heal the pain that he caused and that was caused to him under Morgoth. But because he has such a warped view of himself and his actions, he dismisses genuine extensions of compassion, forgiveness, and care as simultaneously beneath him and too good for him. And yet, he still pursues redemption, but through none of the channels offered to him.

In The Rings of Power, he’s given the explicit instruction to change for the good in the village after he’s reborn. He’s given the chance leave his past behind and work meaningfully in Númenor. He’s given the chance to redeem himself by Galadriel's offer of friendship (or love, depending on your interpretation). In the Silmarillion, he's even given the chance by Eönwë himself, and comes close to leaving Morgoth behind completely!

Let's look at this passage from Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age (emphasis mine):

When Thangorodrim was broken and Morgoth overthrown, Sauron put on his fair hue again and did obeisance to Eönwë the herald of Manwë, and abjured all his evil deeds. And some hold that this was not at first falsely done, but that Sauron in truth repented, if only out of fear, being dismayed by the fall of Morgoth and the great wrath of the Lords of the West. But it was not in the power of Eönwë to pardon those of his own order, and he commanded Sauron to return to Aman and there receive the judgement of Manwë. Then Sauron was ashamed, and he was unwilling to return in humiliation to receive from the Valar a sentence, it might be, of long servitude in proof of his good faith; for under Morgoth his power had been great. Therefore when Eönwë departed he hid himself in Middle-earth; and he fell back into evil, for the bonds that Morgoth had laid upon him were very strong.

This passage is clear that Eönwë is willing to pardon Sauron--he simply did not posses the power to do so. But when Sauron was told he must appeal directly Manwë, he gave up entirely and skulked back to Middle-earth. There are a few ways to read this:

1. He was not wholly repentant

Sauron simply wanted the protection of a new master in the absence of Melkor. i.e., he was rather fickle and simply wanted to be on whatever the "winning" side was. This is supported by the text literally saying that at least some of his obeisance was completely false, and that he only made a point of feeling bad about anything once his master had been chucked into the Void and his armies and strongholds were being destroyed (Thangorodrim). In this reading, perhaps Eönwë saw Sauron's treachery and referred him to Manwë knowing that it would be a test of his true intent. However, while a valid interpretation, I believe this to be the less holistic of the two.

2. He was truly repentant

Sauron did truly feel badly and "abjured all his evil deeds," but he was unwilling/unable to humble himself after being so fundamentally broken by Melkor and developing an insatiable power lust (hey, he isn't defined in the narrative by lust and pride for nothing).

Earlier in this same chapter, Tolkien wrote that Sauron could "...deceive all but the most wary." This is in the specific context of his physical shapeshifting. But, I would argue that this can also be tied to his lies. Tolkien has a specific ethic of beauty, where physical perfection is equated with moral goodness. Sauron completely inverts what is otherwise a hard and fast rule within Tolkien's writings by being the character most frequently described as "fair"--seven times to Lúthien's six, and she was the most beautiful woman to have ever lived!

(Side note: I have another post on Tolkien & beauty in the works where I'll get more into this idea)

Why does this matter? Even though this interaction with Eönwë takes place in the First Age, Sauron could at this point be in the demonic form Mirdania describes in the forge. And, I am inclined to believe that Eönwë, as the head Maiar and herald of Manwë, would be a pretty wary guy, and thus able to sense any of Sauron's trickery. I read this to mean that Eönwë looked at Sauron and saw his potential to be Mairon again, either in absence of his evil form or in spite of it.

Because Sauron is incredibly beautiful. And even if it is a disguise of the true, depreciated form of his spiritual essence, he presented himself to Eönwë at his most beautiful. He wanted, even in his act of repentance, to make himself more favorable in Eönwë's eyes. To show up as Mairon (who was likely close friends with Eönwë before everything went down, since they are considered to be two of the most powerful Maia and would have worked closely together).

But I don't think this was all manipulation on Sauron's end. I agree with the scholars mentioned in the text who believed that Sauron was truly repentant--which is why Eönwë even bothered referring him to Manwë instead of kicking him into the Void with Melkor.

And this is the tragedy: Sauron is told exactly how to repent, and believes fundamentally that it is an impossible path for him. And yet, he still longs so intrinsically for it! He was, under Aulë, a Maia of precision, perfection, and order. Under Morgoth, he feels disordered, dis-regulated. He needs to correct the fundamental imbalance within him, so why does he flee Eönwë?

It comes back to Sauron's pride.

If he follows through with this path of reconciliation, there is no way he can hide or pretend his actions away. If he cannot trick his fellow Maiar, he certainly cannot trick the Valar. And he cannot stand the idea of submitting himself back under their rule, especially now that he has tasted power. This is a pride wound; it is why the idea of confessing to Manwë would be humiliating to him as opposed to just upsetting/uncomfortable.

Again, the pivotal moment: he is told how to make amends for crimes and determines that he cannot do it. So he returns to Middle-earth and stews in his own self-hated and self-pity for a few years. In that time, he consciously or subconsciously latches onto Eönwë's offer--forgiveness from penance. It is the way forward. And if he cannot earn penance at Manwë's hand, he will do it on his own.

The Prodigal Son

This is where we have to talk about the Catholic roots of Tolkien's work for a moment. The scene where Sauron approaches Eönwë mirrors the biblical parable of the prodigal son. In this story, a man abandons his family, spends all his money, and falls into ruin. But when he recognizes his failings and returns to his father to get help, he is welcomed back into the family without question--in other words, he is forgiven and restored to his former position.

17 But when he [the prodigal son] came to himself he said, “How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! 18 I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.’” 20 So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. - Luke 15:11-32, NRSV CE (emphasis mine)

The parallel is clear; Mairon, the repentant Maia, returns home with hopes of reconciliation. He is prescribed the same task that the prodigal son offered to his father: he must be bound in servitude to his father/creator in order to pay off his debts. This is a deliberate allusion from Tolkien. The story of the prodigal son models the path of reconciliation that Eönwë describes. Tolkien seems to be drawing a line in the sand with this: Sauron is unwilling to do the work required by the Valar for repentance, so he is unable to receive the grace of a warm welcome back into the fold of the Ainur. Since he did not humble himself, he has to be told to do it. And he does not want to! He wants to be loved, but he also wants his power--evidence, in a way, of how his character was fundamentally altered in his time with Morgoth.

His pride--and his fear--cut him off from the potential of grace. He does not know for certain that Manwë would subject him to servitude (though I would argue that it's textually evident that it is a custom), but this assumption leads him to flee, which allows him to slip back into his old ways.

He wants to be Mairon (admirable) again, not Sauron (abhorrent). He wants to be accepted and loved, but not punished. He wants the benefits of reconciliation without the work he would have to do to earn it or the shame he would feel as he did. It's pride, but it's also deep shame--the flip side of his extreme ego is an implicit self-hatred, one that we can see in the subtext of how he speaks about himself and about his time with Morgoth.

Even the language Tolkien uses is heavily shame-coded, especially in a Catholic context; Mairon did not go willingly, he was "seduced." He admits to Celebrimbor that he was "tortured by a god". It becomes exceedingly clear through both text and on-screen canon that Sauron was routinely broken and abused for centuries. This has fundamentally damaged his self-perception, which is ultimately what leads him to "[fall] back into evil"--whether due to pride or shame, he hides, perhaps because he consciously or subconsciously does not believe that he deserves forgiveness, no matter how much he craves it.

Naked in the Garden

His flight back to Middle-earth after meeting Eönwë is reminiscent of another biblical scene, where Adam and Eve, after committing the first sin, hide from God in shame and fear (emphasis mine):

7 Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked...9 But the Lord God called to the man, and said to him, “Where are you?” 10 He said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself.” -Genesis 7-10, NRSV CE

The image of nakedness is, here, one of vulnerability, and Tolkien establishes that Sauron fears that which he cannot control. He needs the Rings under his power. He needs his armies and his enemies under his watchful eye. He is petrified of letting his power slip away (possibly due to never wanting to feel powerless in the hands of a Vala, fallen or not, again).

The biblical allusion here hearkens back to the fear Tolkien describes Sauron as feeling regarding his return to the Ainur. In the religious system Tolkien has established, which is likely inspired by his own religious beliefs, Sauron has sinned, and must make penance. But he is afraid of God/Manwë, and does not want to "let go" of his sin. In other words, he is not truly repentant. This reflects the Catholic sacrament of confession, which requires self-reflection and resolve to never commit the sin again.

Instead of shame driving him to contrition, it drives him to isolation.

But he still wants forgiveness. So, in his years of hiding in Middle-earth, he decides to earn it himself. His own way.

Enter the Rings.

Sauron wants to perfect the wrong he wreaked so that he can both earn his way back into the Ainur and keep his power. But what he does not realize is that this does not work. Eönwë is clear that he must forsake his true temptation--absolute power--through penance by submission. Yet Sauron in his pride thinks he can have it all. Sauron is a very carefully controlled villain, and the only times he snaps or makes significant mistakes are when his inflated self-perception is challenged, revealing the self-loathing and/or self-pity underneath. The best example of this is when he kills Celebrimbor prematurely, and cries afterwards. Why? Because Celebrimbor was right about him, and he hates it. He hates knowing that he is nothing more than the Morgoth's shadow, because Morgoth was his master as much as he was his tormentor. As Sauron puts it, his relationship with Morgoth was often defined by pain as a test to see "whose will was the mightier":

This image carries more shame, both in its implicit sexual connotations and in the simple power dynamic of it. Sauron, even though misguided, is rallying against Morgoth. He wants to break what Morgoth has created and build something new, something better, something apart from his old master entirely. But Celebrimbor confronts him with reality: he has not created something new, and perfect, and special, as he so wanted to--he can only act in imitation, not in generation. And when he got close with the Rings, it cost him everything. It's almost like he wants the power of a Vala, and loathes that he cannot attain it.

And this is why he becomes so singularly obsessed with Galadriel.

She’s his foil. They both crave power and adoration, but in the end of things, she does not fold under his temptation. She turns down everything she has ever wanted for the greater good and for the sake of her own soul. Sauron looks at Galadriel and perceives that she would have succeeded at Eönwë's test because she is willing and able to humble herself. This maddens him to the point of both desiring her and desiring to break her.

She learns that she is easily tempted and becomes strong enough to handle it (through a lot of tough love from Elrond & co.). She has to learn how to do it, but she is able to.

She grows from someone who resisted and rejected authority to someone who is trusted as an authority because of her ability to wield it wisely (see: Gil-galad allowing her to answer for him in 2x08).

In other words, she earns the trust, love, and support of her community. Sauron has to force his to comply—it is an illusion of love.

His possessive obsession with her also stems from her fairness. She was the object of her uncle Fëanor's obsessive desire for creation as well. Her hair was the inspiration of the Silmarils (see: The History of Galadriel and Celeborn; The Shibboleth of Fëanor - source with page #s here), which Morgoth desired more than anything to possess.

Sauron, wanting to spite his master, wants one better--to own that which inspired the Silmarils, to own the image of fairness (and thus of moral good) completely. This is why he wants to bind himself to her. This is why he needs her. He sees Galadriel as his mechanism of repentance, and his last triumph over Morgoth. Winning her is his salvation as much as it is proving that his will is the mightier. It is his way of dominating Morgoth. This starts, I think, as a genuine effort at proving himself to the Valar, but quickly consumes him entirely. He is overcome with the desire for revenge, just as Galadriel was at the beginning of the First Age.

And he sees this in her. Sees their similarities. Sees that she, too, is angry and lonely and so afraid of losing her power. And he leverages that to befriend her. This is where it gets ambiguous and you can read RoP as either painting the image of Sauron being earnest but completely misguided in his proposal, or you can see it as him being entirely manipulative.

I think the truth of that scene probably falls somewhere in the middle; just like when he presents himself to Eönwë, he is sincere in his desire, but only knows how to present it in an inherently contriving way. He does want to bind her to him, so he tries to only reveal to her the good aspect of that desire (and also of his desire for power, which he allows her to see because he believes that it is good and also because she understands it), and not the ugly underside of his internal struggle against Morgoth, the Valar, and himself.

And I do think, in his own way, he cared about her. Galadriel consistently shows kindness and compassion to him. In S1, they grow to know each other's minds and souls, and she considers him a close friend. He finds comfort in this, that someone could see the blackness of his heart and care for him anyway. He thought, in his isolation, that he lost that chance when he fled back to Middle-earth. And here is the very picture of the light itself telling him that she supports him, that she sees the good in him, that she wants to help him set the world to rights! Of course he is infatuated by this. Of course he also wants to use it. He is Sauron.

But Galadriel succeeds where he fails, so he stops playing nice and tries to forcibly drag her down with him. First, by baiting her with the image of the man she cared deeply for:

Then, by reminding her of all she is losing by rejecting him:

And she is still strong enough to say no. And not just to say no, but to shut the door completely. To look in the face of everything she has desired for centuries and turn it down, understanding that it will ruin her. Yes, she hesitates. Yes, she still wants it (wants him). But she wins the day by holding fast to the light that Sauron wishes so badly to bind himself to.

Because she has lost everything--her brother, her husband, the station as commander, the trust of her high king and best friend--and earns it back only through her resistance of her greatest temptation. It is a struggle, it is painful, it nearly kills her--but she does it. She wins the test that Sauron could not even bear to face.

In their headlong, self-sacrificial tendencies, they are the same. Both view themselves as fundamentally stronger/better than their peers while also being deeply lonely due to their self-imposed isolation (Galadriel's laser-focused hunt for revenge, Sauron's exile in Middle-earth). But to Galadriel, the light is more important than her pride.

For Sauron, the light is his source of pride. He desires it more than anything, but condemns himself to never being able to touch it due to his rejection of Eönwë's offer. Paradoxically, he tries to grasp at it through Galadriel, the living silmaril, and succeeds only in darkening her. We learn from Gil-galad in 2x08 that his crown piercing her flesh in an act of brutal domination nearly strips her soul from her and pitches it into the unseen world. In this, Sauron is saying: If I cannot have you, I will force you to need me. I will break you into loving me.

He says this to Celebrimbor as well. He no longer knows how to love properly. He only knows how to inflict pain until this object of his obessive desire needs him--just like how his immortal spirit was broken into submission by Morgoth. And isn't this revealing of his own sense of self? He refuses to suffer the path of light, but willingly suffers the maddening path of darkness because it is a comfortable, familiar suffering. One, he tells Celebrimbor, he even grew to enjoy (2x08). As the path of the Rings drive him madder and madder, his desire for the light (Galadriel) and the return of his power (Celebrimbor) become further disordered and corrupted until they culminate in him destroying them--and his chance at earning/owning them--entirely.

And this is Sauron's ultimate point of no return (which we will hopefully see in S3 🤞). The razing of Eregion and slaying of Celebrimbor were acts of petty rage he committed when his pride was injured. This was the final nail in the coffin. Galadriel, in her rejection of him, ruins what he sees as his true chance for redemption.

Galadriel, now stepping into the role of Eönwë, re-opens the invitation: "Heal yourself!" (2x08). But in rage and shame and stubborn pride, he turns it down again. I believe this is where his desire to heal Middle-earth shifts fundamentally into desire to dominate Middle-earth. He always wanted to rule, but now he wants to own.

[bisexualdinahlance]

I'm gonna be real, I do think Tristan could be genuine in his feeling like hes "not going to be able to share" just based on how Max acted in this episode. Setting aside any potential Max/Tristan attraction, Max spent this whole episode being uncomfortable around Tristan, butting heads with him, and asserting his authority over him in a way we haven't seen since episode 1, if ever. (He dressed Tristan down in front of the Captain and called him Nurse Silva has he ever done that??)

Then Max gives his whole speech about being traditional, wanting one woman, and children, and about how they need to be able to maintain their dynamics and therefore their hierarchy. I think Tristan quite frankly lost some trust he had gained in Max in this episode. Trust that he would be listened to, trust that they could meet on the same level, trust that Max trusted him in return.

Not to mention Avery actively used to his attraction to her to get what she wanted lol. He floats the idea of them making a good duo after Max's rejection and she won't even consider it. Then she flirts with him just to get him to agree to talk to Max. It was funny but you could see even then he looked a little put out by it. There's nothing wrong with her wanting both and feeling like monogamy isn't for her, but I do think Tristan took that as "I am not and will never be enough for her" and that hit right in his emotional issues.

I think it genuinely is difficult for him to see how they could be in a balanced relationship atp (poly-v OR triad). In his eyes, Max not only doesn't want to try something "non traditional" but the threesome has also brought his power over Tristan to the forefront, causing a breakdown in trust. Avery has, unintentionally, kinda made it seem like she isn't concerned for Tristan's feelings and/or just doesn't care enough about him. It makes sense that Tristan feels like he's not going to be respected or considered in the relationship!

I also think it's significant that Avery keeps talking about fun and not putting a label on it and just... Never talks about the emotional side of it which makes sense for her prior commitment issues but is something that both Max and Tristan explicitly want.

This also isn't to say it couldn't work out between them lol, I'm still rooting for them to at least be a V (tho it's be a triad in my heart). I think that jealousy and insecurity is normal sometimes in polyamory at the beginning. The key is to communicate and they aren't... Really doing that yet lol.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Ok, I think I have a pretty good idea of why a lot of Akechi's dialogue is... like that.

So, even before his confidant truly started, I noticed that he has a real knack for directing the flow of a conversation. This is very fitting for someone who is both a detective and skilled at interviews - when there is a topic and a goal, Akechi is in his element.

All this to say, he's actually kind of controlling when it comes to conversational flow. He probes for information, or turns the conversation around to a particular topic, usually the Phantom Thieves. He manages to take a few of Joker's dialogue options and spin them so they sound mildly incriminating in the context he's placed them in - the only way to truly get around this is to pick answers that feign indifference, and even then, that's more than a bit telling. He's clearly very good at this kind of thing.

But then, we get conversations where either Joker does something he didn't expect, or else he doesn't have a particular goal in mind - and the conversation stutters. In the first instance, Joker does something (a particularly egregious example is putting his glasses on him and fluffing his hair in rank 3) which both leaves him wrong-footed and no longer in perfect control of the situation. He just kind of... freezes, for awhile. It's hilarious. He has no idea how to respond.

He picks up control again in the phone call afterwards, having chosen to play into it, turning this "fooling the crowds" into a kind of game or secret between them. Nice save.

But in instances where there isn't an obvious topic and the goal is somewhat nebulous, for instance, that one Leblanc scene, it becomes pretty apparent that Akechi doesn't have the right "script" to go off of. Again, it's particularly notable in that scene, because I'm fairly sure he didn't have any specific reason to be at Leblanc, other than him looking for a quiet spot now that public opinion has turned on him. And because there isn't anything specific he's digging for, he kind of just ends up throwing things at the wall to see what will stick. Probing for any kind of recognizable reaction that he can jump on and work with, and that just doesn't really happen in this scene.

He references Sae, a woman in a respectable position, to Sojiro, but instead of that netting a welcome, it earns his ire, given Sae's recent actions against him. He then tries to greet Joker, his... rival? friend? enemy? person who at least seems to somewhat enjoy spending time with him? But Joker's responses are somewhat short, and Akechi practically wilts. He tries to commiserate by oversharing. He tries to involve Futaba and reaches out for the only topic of interest he can think of around "young people". He compliments the coffee. He compliments Joker. He tries to invoke that connection between them. None of it is really sticking, nor does it serve as a jumping off point for him to steer the conversation, or even really start one.

So, he basically just ends up having a one-sided chat with himself and then leaves. Hilarious. Also a little sad, if I'm being honest. It's really giving "guy with no friends who only knows how to speak to adults" energy. If there's no specific purpose to the exchange, or he is not in control of its direction, he seems to be kind of out of his depth. He succeeds only in being a little awkward and confusing, more than anything.

[iizuumi]

Enough general kn8 art, time to make everyone look at my weird little ship hello

[aivilo]

an old one !

[potatobugz]

I WOULD RIP MY HEART OUT

[cl0wnzzy]

i need peopke to rant about mcr with... pls... my friends and family are growing tired of me it's like talking to a brick wall... no one wants to hear my fun facts :(

[guardian-angle22]

911 LONE STAR REWATCH 2024 -> MY FAVORITE SCENES | Control Freak!Carlos leading a giggling TK into the loft in 3.04

[fumifooms]

Canines

The hand that feeds

Mickbell Tomas & Kuro Dungeon Meshi

^ 1: Ink-the-artist, I will remove my teeth / 2: Margaret Atwood / 3: C.S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy / 4: Mitski, I’m your man / 5: Ojibwa, I love you like a rotten dog / 6: KotOR II / 7: Stardrop, Everything that’s ever been mine is covered in teeth marks / 8: Sodikken, People Eater / 9: Mitski, I’m your man / 10: maxime., The life and death of a dog / 11: Mitski, I bet on losing dogs / 12: maxime., The life and death of a dog / 13: hun, I did not bite with Malice / 14: C. Michael Davis, Don't Pet the Dragon / 15: Mitski, I’m your man

v 1: Early versions of the myth as in aeschylus orestes / 2: Ink-the-artist, I will not remove my teeth

[momentomori24]

This may just be me, but I think if you ship a canonically very abusive, manipulative and toxic relationship, you don't get to judge or call anyone degenerates for their own fucked up ships, actually.

[wishchip106]

i want to rewatch xmen 97 but i feel like i’m being constantly reminded of whatever the hell rogue and magneto had going on ☹️

I DONT CARE THAT IT WAS IN THE COMICS GET IT OFF MY SCREEN

charles get ur ass down here magnus is being freaky and not in a good way 😧

rogue i don’t blame you for wanting physical contact BUT GAMBIT IS RIGHT THERE HE IS OFFERING I THINK HE WANTS TO BE IN A COMA

man anyway cherik should’ve kissed in ep 10

[ellavei]

We need to discuss the family dynamics between France - South Italy - Spain!

I've been rewatching 「Hetalia ～The World is Wonderful～」 a few times since a few years ago. And I was really impressed by the canon detail that France, South Italy, and Spain live together in the same house.

In this unique yet complicated relationship, each of them really showed their own personality and role in the family.

I think it is quite realistic that Spain is actually the one balancing the relationships between all three in the family. In my opinion, Spain is the most gentle person when it comes to this... "funny"... family. And Hetamyu really shows that.

Spain has had a great relationship with South Italy since he was just a child. Spain also shared a deep bond with France for such a long time ago. No wonder why Spain is so patient with both of them. He was the man you could expect to cook lunch with South Italy and come in the night to discuss a military campaign with France.

I really adore how Spain tries every possible way to care for South Italy and France (even when they hurt him). Spain is a sociable man, but there are not many people who can be into his personal circle. So if he treats you like this, he very much considers you are close to him.

With South Italy, he reminded me of "a typical wild teenager" in the household. He has so many problems in his life that Spain also feels deeply worried for him. France even jokes that South Italy is literally the child of this house because both France and Spain need to take care of him.

The reasons that South Italy found it difficult to ''unify and independent'' was not only because it cost blood and tears, but also because a part of him was ''used'' to a life with Spain and then France when he came into their lives. His life surrounded by them in almost every aspect.

In Hetalia, the relationship between ''the guardian'' and "the dependent one'' is very clearly portrayed. Even when you are independent and already learn how to stand on your own feet, you will still be haunted by the past from time to time. South Italy had both logical and emotional reasons to feel anxious about that.

When it comes to France, I think sometimes people just look at his comical and gallant side, then forget that France is a very cunning and calculating person.

I can imagine the headaches of South Italy and Spain while living with the arrogance and condescension of France. He can be freaking harsh and devious even with the people he is close with. When it comes to the things he dominates, France is not someone who easily learns to let go.

It does not take much time to see that France is the voice of the family. Not only does France have the political ability to do so, but his personality also shows that he has the potential to be the leader of the family.

When Spain and South Italy take one step, France is the one who analyzes and can see the next two steps ahead. If he is on the same side and shares the same vision with you, he is a really helpful partner. But if he not...

It was really interesting to see these three characters living together, I hope to see more of them like this!!!

...

Thank @aminifanartist so much for the English subtitles, and thank @italy1stan a lot for the megalink ♡♡♡

You guys can check them in here. I hope there will be more international Hetalian get into Hetamyu ♡