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melverie · 6 months

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Okay, but you guys do realize that the reason Mephisto behaves the way he does is because he has been raised with the intent of only being beneficial to the future demon king and nothing else, right?

(Buckle up because this is going to be a loooonnngggg post)

Mephisto comes from a family that has been serving the royal family for ages. He mentions multiple times that his family has always acted as their knights, their advisors and their protectors to them, and it won't be any different with him. It shouldn't be any different with him. Being beneficial to Diavolo has literally been decided to be the very meaning of his life even before he was born. He's been forced into the role and he's following it to a T because he's never known anything else, and because he can't afford to lose that. Without it, what else is left of him? What worth does he hold other than being essentially a tool for Diavolo?

And then the brothers fall and suddenly his position is at risk. Lucifer and Diavolo have already gotten along fairly well back when Lucifer was still an angel. Both Diavolo and Lucifer (as well as several others) mention that they go way back in their Nightbringer homescreen dialogues, and we see them having mutual respect by the end of the 'The Glory Days' Devilgram in the original game. Mephisto and Diavolo meanwhile might be childhood friends, but here's the thing

Diavolo wants a friend. A real friend. Someone that genuinely appreciates him for who he is as a person instead of focusing on his status as the future demon king. And that's something Lucifer can give him. They often hang out for the sake of it (apparently even eating dinner at Ristorante Six together regularly), they regularly engage in lighthearted banter, and Lucifer isn't afraid to give Diavolo his honest opinion

But that's not really the case with Mephisto...? He was never meant to be on equal footing with Diavolo; Diavolo even calls him "mini-Barbatos" at one point. He is literally still calling him 'Lord Diavolo' all the time, requests to speak his honest opinion first and waits for Diavolo to allow him to do so before actually giving it. That's why Mephisto keeps pushing down his own feelings and keeps showering Diavolo in praise any opportunity he gets while he adjusts every aspect of life to be beneficial to Diavolo in a way. Sure, he might be popular, but as long as Diavolo doesn't want him to get married he doesn't even waste a thought about relationships. He might have no real interest in journalism, but of course he'll take over RAD's Newspaper Club. After all, Diavolo asked him to! He's part of the House of Lords because as the future king's right-hand man that just makes sense. He was always just meant to be a tool for the crown prince to use, so he doesn't know how to treat Diavolo as anything but. He was literally groomed to be dispensable, so he's obviously going to act like it

And that's also where Mephisto's dislike for Lucifer stems from—he can only watch as Lucifer slowly grows closer and closer to Diavolo, and threatens to take the role that was always made up to be his. And so Mephisto keeps challenging Lucifer over and over again, trying to sabotage their friendship any way he can in hopes of winning back his position as the crown prince's right-hand man

That obviously doesn't make the way he treats Lucifer (and the rest of the brothers!) right. Lucifer isn't responsible for any of this, and blaming him for it is misguided. But it still doesn't change the fact that Mephisto has the right to be hurt at the situation at hand. His entire purpose of existence is just being ripped away from him right before his eyes and all he can do is watch. That must hurt. Especially when your entire familiy's purpose has been to serve the royal family, and you are the first one to lose that

Also, I feel like something else we need to talk about is how his fight only ever really seems to be with the brothers, especially Lucifer? Again, part of the reason is the entire Diavolo situation, sure, but I feel like it also has to do with the situation in the Devildom at large? I already vaguely talked about this in a different context a few months back, but ever since the brothers have been cast out of the Celestial Realm and arrived in the Devildom, the entire situation has just been super unstable. We as a player have a unique perspective on the events because we only have a limited outsider view to on the actual politics going on the the Devildom, while also being aware how things will play out in the future. We know that ultimately letting the brothers stay is the right choice, but that's not the way a regular denizen who has to live through all this sees it. I mean, just the way Mephisto describes the brothers really puts things into perspective:

The entire realm is super destabilized, they just semi-lost their current king, and there have been multiple very real threats of war—first when the Devildom took the brothers in in the first place, then when "Raphael" showed up and told the brothers to return, and Lucifer rightfully points out to (a comatose) MC that they are bound to go to war should the Celestial Realm ever find out that Diavolo turned Lilith into a human. There's just a lot of tension in the air, and the brothers—extremly powerful as both angels and demons—seem to be at the root of most of it in one way or another. From a the House of Lords' perspective, it makes sense to want the brothers gone, same goes for a denizens perspective. And while it is a delicate situation all around that can't just be blamed on the brothers, it makes sense for Mephisto to also see them at the center of it all. Again, that doesn't make the brothers' treatment right, but it's at least understandable given the circumstances

On a side note, when discussing his beliefs, I think it's also important to remember that he to this day is incredibly sheltered. He just accepts all this as normal because to him it is normal, but as we've seen in lesson 31 hard mode Thirteen was so shocked by his views that she immediately decided to drop everything and play therapist for him (absolute Queen for not just blaming it on him btw 💖). I know this was just a throw-away line, but this paired with him basically excisting to serve Diavolo already says so much about his character:

And with everyone else he seems to be generally pleasent? I mean, he says he doesn't want anything to do with angels or humans, and yet he risks getting injured in order to save Luke from falling. Yet he actively seeks out MC to solve one of the 666 Mysteries of RAD together with them, and saves them from tumbling on the floor because "anyone else would have done the same" (they wouldn't have. The season 1 brothers would have laughed straight in MC's face). He literally complained to Thirteen about how he was just about to go home and how he doesn't have time for her, yet diligently carries all her things for her as rain is pouring down on him. His actions always end up betraying his words

Also he has a massive sweet tooth which alings perfectly with one of the headcanons I had for months and is RAD's local horse girl so we stan! <3

-> more character & relationship analyses -> masterlist

#i'm in desperate need of several character analyses for the entire cast and if i can't find any i'll write them myself #anyway if you stumble across any character analyses could you tag me? thank you <3 #him saying he has no interest in persuing journalism is from the 'lead on mephisto!' devilgram btw #which i don't have so i unfortunately couldn't share a screenshot of it #anyway THE PROMISED MEPHISTO POST #I'M FINALLY SCREAMING ABOUT HIM WUUUUHHH #post is looonnnngg so i decided to add some screenshots to make it look less like a pure wall of text #which is also why it ended up taking longer than promised to post it i'm sorry^^;#i actually wrote a lot more but i had to cut a lot of things because it just didn't flow well #NEXT UP: another solomon mega post #obey me #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me mephistopheles #obey me analysis #obey me character analysis #;mel's analyses

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caelos-legacy · 1 year

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moon of a few words as always

aka "insurance". aftermath to Privacy (P1 - P2)

[ Comic index ]

#fnaf #fnaf au #fnaf sb #fnaf sb au #daycare au #fnaf daycare au #moondrop #moon fnaf #daycare attentand #fnaf daycare attendant #moondrop x reader #moondrop x y/n #caelos au #comic #this kinda makes me realize there's now a Massive temporal gap between this and the camera dealio. both need time to recover from this and #build up the trust to that point. i hope i can do a decent job of filling it up. thank you for following the blog so far <3 #please be gentle with me though - i have Barely any experience with writing; let alone writing conflict

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lucienarcheron · 20 days

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Spirit Meets the Bones - XIII

Genre: Angst/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. Please be mindful: some implied language may be found triggering.

shoutout to @abruisedmuse always for being my bby <33

Find it all here.

The two waited until the steps drew nearer before Eris said in a detached, cold voice. “I thought I told you I didn’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

“I — I —”

“We’ve been over this. You are not to be seen and not to be heard.”

“Son?”

Eris and Iris looked to find Beron standing before them, brow raised.

“Father.” Eris said calmly, removing his hand from Iris’s throat and then turning to face the High Lord, clasping his hands behind his back. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Iris wasn’t feigning the slight tremor in her hand as she rubbed delicately at her neck. Eris hadn’t gripped her hard, but the sudden movement had caught her off guard.

Her eyes flickered to reason number one to why things were still cautious between them.

Eris’s eyes shifted to her briefly before his eyes met his father’s and he quirked a brow, waiting.

“I was finishing up a meeting and heard you were around these parts.” the High Lord said slowly, his gaze snapping to Iris who slowly slid closer behind him, ever the cowering doll. “I didn’t expect to see Iris with you this late in the evening.”

Iris focused on her feet, on the solid feel of Eris beside her. It was always a game they needed to play around Beron but she still hated it. Hated how a part of her fear wasn’t a lie.

She focused on his hands clasped behind him, his signature stance, and watched the way his fingers fisted then flexed.

“I prefer to keep her close.” Eris said dryly. “It suits my needs.”

Beron snorted, and Iris felt his eyes slide to her as they always did whenever they seemed to be near each other. Her eyes stayed on Eris’s hands that clenched at his father’s snort.

Since that wretched dinner, Eris ensured they avoided his father as much as possible and Iris was all too happy to stay away from the only other male she hated as much as she hated her father.

“I’m sure it does suit your needs to have her nearby.” he almost purred and Iris worked to keep the disgust off her face. “Let’s hope this means I can expect a grandchild sometime in the near future.”

Iris flinched and it seemed to be the response Beron was waiting for. He laughed and Eris only spared her another slight glance over his shoulder then back at his father with a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I will enjoy trying until we do.” he replied and Iris kept her eyes on his hands, flexing once more.

Iris moved closer to Eris, her hands slowly sliding into his and his fingers immediately closed around hers. Beron kept talking, speaking in that nasty, oily tone that made the bile rise in her throat but she ignored him completely, focusing only on the feel of Eris’s fingers intertwined with hers. She focused on the feeling of his thumb caressing the back of her hand and letting her thumb rub into his palm.

Iris envisioned all the open wounds she could leave in the High Lord’s chest on a daily basis, the joy of watching him bleed out making a moment like this passable.

“Are you listening, Iris? Your father is coming to see you tomorrow morning.”

Iris’s head jolted up and her grip tightened on Eris’s hand, her eyes wide as Beron smirked at her.

“Why?” she breathed, and Eris squeezed her hand tightly.

“Why? To check on his precious daughter. Make sure we’re treating you well.” he said with a pointed look. “And I’m afraid this time, he won’t take no for an answer. Neither will I.”

Iris heard the threat in his words and knew Eris had as well – for they had been declining or altogether ignoring any request to visit from her father. Eris had only asked her once, the first time they received a request, if she’d like to see him. Iris had said no and her answer remained the same. Even when Beron had specifically told them to accommodate him, Eris always found a way around it. But it seemed that their avoidance was coming to an end, especially with the look Beron gave them.

The High Lord’s eyes examined Iris slowly and she fought the strong urge not to fidget before his eyes landed on his son once more. “You’ve done a decent job with her.”

Eris nodded tightly. “I do my job well, Father. No worries.”

Beron took one look at the two of them and let his gaze pierce into Iris, a cruel smile on his face.

“You’re doing much better, Iris. Quiet is the best way for a wife to be.” he added and brushed past them as Eris turned to keep Iris firmly behind him. “While her father is here, I’ll need you to survey the new structural plans for our southwest territory. We should give them some quality time together.”

“Yes, of course. I’m sure Iris would love that.” Eris said and again, briefly looked over his shoulder at her again. “Right, wife?”

Iris nodded mutely, her heart thundering in her chest because the idea of her father coming to see her for any other reason than to taunt and rip into her was laughable.

Beron surveyed them both again and seemingly approving of his daughter-in-law shrinking behind his son, he looked at Eris again.

“Shave your face. You look like a mongrel.” He scoffed at his son then waved them off and kept walking. Only when the High Lord had turned down the hall and ten minutes of silence had passed, did Eris slowly turn around to face his wife, his hand still holding hers.

Though she avoided his gaze, Iris felt how his eyes slowly scanned her and she let him, her throat bobbing. His free hand steadily went to her chin and he lifted it to meet his gaze. Amber eyes met hazel and Eris allowed himself one moment to feel the softness of her cheek beneath his touch, then let his fingers slide to her throat for another moment, his thumb resting on her pulse point as she looked at him. She looked at him, at the question he was asking, and nodded before he pulled back.

“I’m sorry for where my hand went,” he murmured. “What do you need me to say to make this moment easier?”

Iris swallowed and shook her head. He hadn’t hurt her at all and she knew why he did it. Let Beron believe what he wanted as long as he left them alone. She licked her lips. “He really thinks you’ve broken my spirit, doesn’t he?” she asked quietly.

“He firmly believes you’re a handful.” Eris replied and the corner of his mouth went up slightly. “Which isn’t wrong. You are very much a piece of work.”

Iris huffed out a shaky laugh and looked down, her eyes zeroing in on their linked hands. She shook her head again. “It still makes me sick that we haven’t been married for that long and he’s absolutely fine with you treating your wife like that.”

“He treats his own wife like that. It’s what he would expect.” Eris said tightly and Iris looked up at him. “But right now, it’s just you and me.”

“Just you and me.” she repeated. A heartbeat of silent understanding passed between the husband and wife, an understanding that seemed to run much deeper than either of them expected.

Eris didn’t let go of her hand and Iris didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry.” he said again softly, and she shook her head.

“It’s his fault. It’s always their fault.” she said, a small frown forming on her lips.

Eris waited, watching her struggle with her thoughts, watching as her brow furrowed. Iris looked up at him then back down at their joined hands then back up at him.

“What is it?” he said, the question a caress but Iris shook her head, tension coming off her in waves.

“Can we go back to our room? I need a moment.” she asked quietly, and Eris frowned but nodded.

“Of course.”

And though she didn’t say a word as they walked back, her hand remained intertwined with his. He wasn’t sure what to say or how to make her feel better so Eris said nothing, content to hold her hand and run his thumb across it.

When they returned, she spared him a small, tired smile and silently slipped into the bathroom, sleeping clothes in her hand. Eris watched as the door closed, his hand twitching at his sides, and only when their designated guest of the night, Lyra, nudged his hand with her head did he realize how rigidly he’d been standing.

“She’s upset. I’m not sure what to do,” he mumbled to his hound who whined softly. “Go sit by the door. Maybe you can get her to smile.”

Eris watched his hound go to the door and sit obediently, wagging its tail in a way that matched his own anxiousness.

He distracted himself as he got ready for bed, his eyes drifting to the bathroom door, waiting for her to return. Eris felt her distress and it troubled him that he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason. His father. Him. Her father. Him.

As he finally settled down in their bed, Iris stepped out, dressed in a silk cream-colored slip that reached her ankles, something he hadn’t seen her wear before, and if the situation had been any different, he would’ve been very interested in inspecting it more up close.

But she still wasn’t looking at him and even though she’d given Lyra a small smile and a pat, her expression had fallen too quickly for it to have mattered.

Eris watched her closely as Iris finally slipped into their bed silently and didn’t dare move as she sat next to him, closer than usual, her back against the headboard.

He waited.

Iris focused on feeling the smoothness of the sheets beneath her, on Lyra now shifting in the bed near her, knowing Eris was watching her but she still hesitated to speak. Lyra wrapped herself near her legs, nuzzling against Iris but it didn’t help ease the tightness in her body. After a moment of silence, Eris finally spoke.

“Was it me?” he asked her quietly and her eyes flickered up to his, his expression tense and Iris shook her head. “Then what is it?”

He had shifted to rest his back against the headboard also, close enough to read her every breath but far enough that he didn’t impose on her space.

Iris’s gaze drifted to the wall behind Eris and after a moment, she mumbled, “My father is coming.”

Understanding dawned on her husband’s face and his mouth went into a thin line. “It was bound to happen, unfortunately. We can only reject his request so many times.”

“His reason is a lie.” she choked out and Eris’s eyes hardened as she met his gaze. “He’s a liar and I know he isn’t looking for hugs.” Iris swallowed and her expression slipped. “I don’t want to be alone with him,” she whispered. “It hasn’t been that long but — but being away from him helped me forget about him for a while.”

Then Iris took a breath and hesitantly reached out into the space between them, her fingers gently touching his hand. “But it’s been long enough that I know his palm is itching for me. I know him. I know the way he thinks.” she continued and swallowed again. She looked up at Eris and her face burned knowing the pleading look in her eyes. “Do you — will you stay with me when he’s here? If — if it doesn’t cause you trouble?”

"How badly do you think this is going to go?" he asked her curiously and Iris knew he scented the shot of fear that pumped through her veins.

"Very badly."

Eris narrowed his eyes at her, and she felt him go unnaturally still. She watched his eyes as they watched her and could almost see his mind calculating. It only made her flush deeper, her embarrassment rising.

“Never mind — I shouldn’t have asked.” she quickly said and pulled her hand away from his. “You can’t risk it and I can handle my father. It’ll be fine —”

Eris gently but firmly grabbed her hand and slowly pulled her closer to him until there was only a breath of space between them. Iris looked up at him in surprise but he only met her gaze, unflinching.

If he moved a fraction, his lips would be on hers.

“You can always ask and my answer will always be yes.” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I told you. You are my wife. I do not take kindly to anyone speaking to you in a way that isn’t respectful. Let alone anyone trying to lay a hand on you.”

Iris tried not to shudder at the words. At the promise. “I don’t want you to get in trouble with your father if you don’t follow through on his request.”

“I know how to run my court. I need only ask and it will be done without me leaving your side.”

A heartbeat of silence passed then Iris swallowed.

“So...you’ll stay with me?” she breathed.

“I’ll be there.” he promised.

Iris’s shoulders sagged and she allowed herself a moment — just one moment to lean into him. To feel his solid strength beneath her. To remind herself that she wasn’t alone.

“Thank you.” she whispered and when she looked up at him again, her husband gave her a small smile. A smile seemingly reserved just for her.

“Wear something indecent to bed tomorrow and I’ll consider us even.”

Her lips twitched at his words, fighting back a smile. “This is still too modest for you?” she said quietly, her free hand feeling the material of her slip and Eris’s eyes flickered briefly to her fingers sliding on the silk before he met her gaze again. “It’s — it’s something new.”

“I like it. A lot.” he muttered quietly. “But any piece of clothing hiding your body from me is something I consider too modest.” he added all too softly, curling a strand of hair behind her ear.

Iris stared at him without flinching as they shared a breath, shivering slightly at the feel of his fingers, and the urge to kiss him slammed into her full force. All she needed to do was lean in and their lips would meet.

Eris hadn’t moved except to bring his free hand back to his side as the thoughts crashed into her, waiting — waiting to see what she would do and Iris wasn’t sure if she would be the one to handle it if she kissed him right now.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Eris stated quietly. “Remember we are in our bedroom and I will move very quickly.”

Color warmed her cheeks. “Why would you assume I’m thinking about something that will lead down that road?”

“Because you’re looking at me the way I’m always looking at you.” he said and the corner of his mouth lifted as her flush deepened.

“What if I’m thinking about how I want to smother you with a pillow?”

“If you’re straddling me while doing it, I’ll take it.”

Iris let out a small laugh, finally breaking his gaze. “You’re so annoying.”

“If I didn’t know any better, wife, I’d say you are incredibly obsessed with me.” he said, his voice dropping an octave and Eris let his hand slide up then back down her bare arm, enjoying the sight of the small smile on her face. “It’s okay to admit it.”

“No.” she said with a playful shake of her head, willing herself not to blush as she felt his hand warming the skin of her arm. “You’re not really my type.”

“Is that so?” he said with a snort and let his hand slide back to hers, gently squeezing. “I’d say with how much you stare at me, you are simply infatuated.”

Iris hummed, fighting back another smile and failing. “I’m really only sticking around for the hounds.” she said and Eris put a hand over his heart.

“You wound me, little gazelle. And here I thought I had you head over heels for me.”

“Mmm, no,” she said with a small smile and slowly pulled away, not trusting herself to hold back from doing more. “I’m head over heels for the puppy sitting right here.”

“Not a puppy.” he corrected, his hand still curled around the ghost of her fingers as Lyra’s head shot up and the hound whined.

“A big puppy,” she confirmed and slid back, until she was safely on her side of the bed, her heart thundering and a pillow between them again. She tried not to let the slight disappointment in Eris’s expression shake her as she patted the pillow between them gently, “Lyra, come protect me. Your father has an inappropriate look in his eyes.”

Eris only watched his wife, eyes narrowed and he desperately tried not to smile as Iris watched him too, with Lyra obediently resting her body between them. His eyes flickered to the hound.

“Traitor.” he mumbled, then looked at his wife and gave an exaggerated sigh, his hand rubbing at his face. He wanted to do anything to keep her from pushing him away, anything to keep her somewhat distracted from her father’s stupid visit. So he added, “It’s because I look like a mongrel, isn’t it? My father seems to hate it.”

A light shade of pink blossomed on Iris’s cheeks as she looked at Eris then quickly averted her eyes. “If your father hates it, you must be doing something right.” she said airily and Eris quirked a brow.

“Is that so.” he said and a small smirk graced his face as Iris’s blush deepened. “Do you, perhaps, like this mongrel look, wife?”

“I don’t like anything about you.” she replied immediately and even Lyra huffed when Eris laughed.

“You’re such a beautiful liar.” he snickered and finally, slid himself to relax against his pillow, Lyra’s large body between them.

It was quiet for a few moments before Iris spoke again.

“I think it suits you.” she said quietly.

“I can tell. You’ve been undressing me with your eyes this whole week.”

“If you really want to be more dashing than Lucien though —”

“I beg your pardon —” he immediately protested, shooting up on his elbows.

“ — I think you should think about updating your hair.”

Eris blinked. “My hair.”

Iris slowly stroked Lyra, her eyes fully on the hound and avoiding Eris’s gaze, even though her heated cheeks gave away her thoughts.

Eris’s lips twitched. “Would you prefer me with shorter hair, wife?”

Iris bit the inside of her cheek, looking at him then looking away again. “Would you like your hair shorter?”

Eris shrugged, a hand running through his locks. “I haven’t really thought about it. I’m merely used to it at this length.” he said, his eyes watching her.

“You’ve had the same look for some time, haven’t you?” she said with as much of a nonchalant air as she could manage. “You’re a married male now. You should update something about yourself otherwise I’ll get bored very quickly.”

Eris’s smirk widened. “Ah. So that’s what this is about.”

Iris finally looked at him with a quirked brow. “What is it about?”

“You want to make sure my past dalliances don’t think they stand a chance now.” he said and Iris rolled her eyes. “Make sure they know I’m yours, hm?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what it is.” she deadpanned.

“You could leave a hickey and they’ll know for sure.” he said with a grin.

Iris sighed then cupped Lyra’s face. “Can you kick him for me? He’s being annoying.”

“Kick me and I’ll skip your next turn and let Sirius have two.” Eris warned, pointing one finger at the hound who whined in return.

Iris tutted and hugged Lyra closer, squinting at Eris. “So mean.”

“You’re the one who won’t give your husband a well-deserved hickey.”

“Bold of you to assume you deserve anything.”

Eris smirked at her and Iris didn’t like the look on his face one bit.

“If you lift your slip and show me some skin, I’ll let you cut my hair.”

Iris snorted. “Who said I wanted to touch your hair?”

“Oh wife, I know you want to touch me in many places.”

Iris pursed her lips, her flushed cheeks heating further but she refused to look away from him, refused to let him and his stupid smirk win. Sure, she wanted to touch him. In fact, lately, all she had been thinking about was touching him. But that would mean he’d get what he wanted. And well…Iris didn’t want to give him that just yet.

Without breaking eye contact, Iris slid her foot closer to him and Eris’s attention immediately zeroed in on the bare ankle as she slid her foot up his leg slowly, the slip riding up with it, showing much more of her soft skin than he was accustomed to.

“You couldn’t handle me touching you in all the places I want to.” she confessed softly and with a small coy smile, she slowly slid her foot back down his leg then immediately turned, giving him her back, shielding herself and Lyra with the covers.

Eris prided himself on many things but trying to avoid his scent changing around his wife was not one of them.

“You play so dirty.” he said miserably and Iris laughed softly.

She turned on her stomach, facing him again and watched Eris curiously. He tilted his face and watched her watch him, as they almost always ended up doing each night.

A beat of silence passed then —

“A question for a question.” he said, his voice low and Iris paused, color blooming on her cheeks.

“A question for a question.” she repeated quietly.

“What are you thinking about right now?” he asked, turning his body to face her, resting on his elbow.

She watched him, her gaze roaming his handsome face, dipping to his lips for a split second before meeting his eyes again. “I’m thinking…” she began and swallowed, her heart in her throat. “That the Eris I’ve been getting to know is one I don’t mind being around so much.”

She glanced down at his hand resting on Lyra, only inches away from hers then met his eyes once more. “I’m thinking that...even though I’m used to my father and I’ll take whatever he throws at me,” she whispered. “I feel a little braver knowing you’ll be there.”

Eris’s gaze hardened. “If you think I will allow your father to lay a hand on you, you must not have taken my word seriously.”

“I do.” she said softly, the corner of her mouth ticking up then down. “I just don’t think he will.”

“He won’t have a choice. He isn’t allowed in here.”

It was that tone that had Iris’s eyes glued to his face. The way he spoke left no room for discussion, the threat crystal clear. It was this tone that had her licking her lips before very, very quietly adding, “I’m also thinking that I would like to kiss you but I’m scared and it — it feels like too much.”

Eris’s brows lifted slightly, hesitation in his stare. “Why are you still scared, little gazelle?” he asked.

Iris bit her lip and fell silent for a moment, the thundering of her heart as steady and loud as his. She shook her head without answering and looked away as she asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Eris’s eyes seemed to be memorizing every inch of her face as he pondered her question.

“I’m thinking,” Eris began, his voice dropping an octave. “That I would really like to kiss you too but if I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.” he said simply and Iris’s heart began beating even more wildly in her chest. “I��m thinking about how I don’t think you’ve been kissed the way I want to kiss you and it excites me more than it should.”

Iris looked away, feeling heat pool low in her stomach. She glanced at Eris through her lashes, at the look in his eyes and softly asked, “How would you kiss me?”

“That’s something I’d have to show you because words...will fail me, Iris.” he said, the corner of his mouth ticking up then went down just as quickly. “But I don’t want you to be afraid of me. Of anything we would do together.”

Iris turned her body once more, to face him, Lyra resting on the pillow between them. Iris looked away from him and bit her lip, wanting to tell him — the real reason she was so terrified.

She met his gaze and found him watching her the way he always did — intensely, like she was a message written in a secret code he had to decipher; like he couldn’t look anywhere else, his attention undivided on her.

And it was because he looked at her like this. Like she carried his world in her palm. Like she was his salvation. Like she was important. She was petrified because he looked at her like she meant more and Iris wasn’t ready for how badly it was going to hurt when he eventually got tired of that mouth of hers. She shook her head once more.

“I’m not afraid of you.” she said quietly and gave him a small smile when he frowned but couldn’t bring herself to say more about it. “If I don’t give you a kiss, will you abandon me tomorrow?”

Eris narrowed his eyes at her then scoffed when he saw that she was teasing. “You could stab me in the balls and I’d still be there.”

Iris gave him a pointed look, her fingers flexing slightly and he squinted.

“Don’t even think about it, Iris.”

She laughed, feeling the weight of her wretched father’s visit ease off her chest slightly.

“Your heart just skipped a beat at the thought, didn't it, you feral little cat.” he said with a snort, but his lips were curved up as he spoke. Iris lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug.

“You’re the one that suggested it.” she said innocently. “It would be a great way to test all my new healing skills on you.”

Eris rolled his eyes. “Of course it would.” he said with another snort then gave her a sneaky look. “It also runs the risk of ruining any future pleasure you might have.”

It was Iris’s turn to roll her eyes, even as she flushed. “I can pleasure myself perfectly fine on my own, husband.”

“Can you now?”

“A girl has to know her own body before allowing others the privilege of being near it.” she said with pursed lips. “Wouldn’t want to be disappointed.”

Eris slowly smirked and Iris wanted to melt into the sheets as he said in a voice too sinful with such little space between them, “You and I both know there would be no disappointment between us on that end.”

Iris bit her lip as the scent in the room shifted slightly. She wasn’t sure who the culprit was between the two of them.

Iris tilted her head, watching him. “You’re so confident I’ll enjoy it.”

“I wouldn't rest until you did.”

And she knew what his tone meant. She could ask Lyra to move and find out exactly what he meant as soon as tonight. Her heart thundered in her chest and Eris watched her, his one brow quirked. All she had to do was say the word.

But she wasn’t ready for the fire in his veins to be unleashed on her. Iris wasn’t sure she could handle him following up on his many promises just yet.

Iris could only glance at him silently, feeling the heat blooming on her cheeks.

Eris chuckled at her silence and the sound danced across her skin as Iris watched him shift, getting comfortable on his side, facing her.

“Lyra, I’ll need you to protect me now. Your mother has the filthiest look in her eyes.”

Lyra whined playfully as Iris huffed in disbelief but only shook her head, a small smile on her face.

“You wish, you mongrel.” she mumbled but the words had no heat as Eris only smirked at her.

“Mongrel I may be, but I am still your husband.” he said and Iris stilled when he reached a hand to toy with a hair strand fanned out on her pillow. She watched as his fingers toyed with her hair, his gaze meeting hers and her heart caught in her throat. She may not be quite brave for something more right now but...

“A question for a question.” she whispered before she could stop herself and Eris’s fingers stilled.

“Yes?” his response barely above her own whisper.

She licked her lips and her flush deepened, knowing his eyes had cataloged the movement. She certainly could settle for being a little closer at least.

“If I ask Lyra to move...will you behave yourself?”

Her eyes didn’t leave Eris’s face as he froze and Iris had never craved to be a mind reader more than she did at this moment.

A heartbeat passed before the corner of his wicked mouth ticked up and he said in a low voice, “Lyra. Move to the end of the bed, please.”

Iris’s heart beat rapidly as the hound obediently moved, leaving only one pillow between them now. Willing herself not to flush further, Iris shifted an inch closer, her fingers tightening on the pillow.

“Is this okay?” she asked and Eris gave her a knowing smile, his eyes drinking in the sight of her — as if seeing her this up close was undoing him as it was her. And she had barely moved.

“You know I want you closer.”

“I know.”

“Then come closer.”

The request was nearly a purr and Iris felt herself near a cardiac arrest at the tone. Eris Vanserra was dangerous for many reasons but him speaking to her in that tone would be the most dangerous thing of all.

Iris toyed with the corner of the pillow, her gaze shifting from his face to the pillow then back to him. “What are you going to do if I move the pillow?” she whispered, watching him as he watched her every breath.

She watched him lick his lips — felt him hesitate for a moment, before very, very softly saying, “I’d like to hold you. If you’ll let me.”

Iris stilled once more, hearing the vulnerability in the statement. How much he seemed to need it. How much he wanted it.

How long had it been since he’d held someone?

How long had it been since someone had held her?

Iris swallowed, realizing just how much she wanted it as well. It was as if he was reading her mind, knowing how much she needed to be held tonight.

She bit her lip, her heartbeat erratic as she slowly moved the pillow between them to settle it behind her instead. Iris faced him and her eyes fell to the way his fingers twitched at his side; she couldn't help but chuckle.

“There.” she said quietly, settling on her side, closer to him than ever before. “No more pillow barricades.”

“No more pillow barricades.” he repeated then paused once more, a question in his eyes.

Iris hesitated just for a moment, and Eris only tilted his head, watching her and waiting. She swallowed and reminded herself that it was alright. That she was safe with him. That she wanted to be held. And he wanted to hold her.

Finally, she nodded and watched the corner of his mouth lift as he slowly slid a hand up her bare arm then let his fingers trail down her arm again, his eyes never leaving hers. They lit up in amusement when she involuntarily shivered and Iris could only let out a soft gasp as within a split second, Eris had pulled her body flush against his, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Every inch of her was lined up to every inch of him and she felt the breath leave her body.

There was no space between them and Iris didn’t know what to do with herself as she nervously shifted, tilting her head to look at him, their lips once again in so many moments, only inches apart.

“I don’t know what to do with my hands.” she whispered and her cheeks flushed as his gaze uncharacteristically softened.

With a gentleness that made her throat tighten, he moved his hand from her waist and bought each of her hands to rest on his chest.

“Right here is just fine.” he murmured and though she hesitated again for a moment, Iris settled her hands where he put them, her fingers spreading slightly as she felt his toned body through the thin material of his shirt. She didn’t know if she was grateful for it or loathed the sight of it.

Tilting her head once more to look at him, she kept her eyes on his as Eris slid his arm back across her waist, tightening around her and Iris felt gooseflesh erupt on every inch of her.

“Is this okay?” he asked, squeezing her gently and the only thing that anchored Iris to this feeling was the wild beating of his heart that matched her own, a steady rhythm beneath her fingers that mirrored hers. She nodded silently, licking her lips before looking back down at her hands. Her hands that now rested on her husband’s chest.

Her husband whom she had never been this close to. Glancing back at him, Iris knew without either of them saying a word that this moment shifted something deeply between them. They were diving into a territory of feelings neither of them were prepared for but right here, right now, this moment was theirs. This moment where everything felt so right.

She hoped he couldn’t hear how loud her heart was beating and with heated cheeks, Iris looked at him with a small playful smile. “My hands are awfully close to your neck.”

Eris chuckled and she felt him tangle a leg around hers, the movement so natural it was unthought of that they hadn’t slept like this before. “I could snap your spine without a second thought.” He said with a twitch of his lips, the arm around her waist squeezing once more and Iris blinked then let out a huff of a laugh.

“Romantic, aren't we.”

“What is romance if not pain mixed with pleasure?” He said with a lazy smirk and Iris rolled her eyes. “I’d say threatening your partner constantly is the height of romance.”

“And I’d say I am deeply concerned about your thought process.”

“I thought you were the one who wanted to smother me with a pillow earlier? And with your hands just now?” He said with a pointed look. “Obsessed with my neck, you are.”

“It’s so…chokeable.” She whispered and felt his chest rumble with soft laughter. “My bare hands would feel more satisfying, I think.”

Eris’s eyes didn’t leave her face as she watched him fight back a smile before shaking his head then pulling her even closer to him, until she simply had no choice but to nuzzle her head into his chest.

“Tomorrow.” he murmured into the top of her head. “You can choke me tomorrow morning to your heart's content.”

Iris smiled into his chest and as his leg wrapped around hers, she slipped a hand around his waist and tugged him into her just as he had tugged her into him. She wouldn’t face tomorrow alone. He would be with her. And the thought settled her just as easily as her battered spirit had settled in his arms.

And for the first time, the husband and wife fell asleep wrapped in each other. The sound of his heart thumping a lullaby just for her and the feel of her in his arms a soothing balm to his aching bones.

#I would suggest listening to Waking Up Slow while reading this from their playlist #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris x oc #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar fanfiction #smtb chapters #gfics #if you'd like to be tagged or removed (no hard feelings!!!) please let me know!#thank you for reading i hope you enjoyed this one <3 #one of my favorite chapters to write tbh

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wavesoutbeingtossed · 3 months

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Screaming from the crypt (or how the past haunts the present on Midnights)

I know it's been discussed so much since Midnights came out but just.

I love how there is such a clear narrative throughout the album (and perhaps especially on the 3am/Vault tracks). About questioning and regret and choices and coming to terms with all of it. It is one long story about how we're all a mosaic of the choices we make, each one taking something from us and leaving something else in its place.

(And now a disclaimer: I'm looking at this mostly through a narrator/subject lens, and trying not to dive too deeply into real-life events or speculation except for in a general sense. For this purpose I like to look at the body of work as art, like literature, because I find it makes it easier to see the common threads in the different songs and cohesion in the narrative.)

In looking at the 3am+ tracks in particular, it's fascinating how some turns of phrases or themes repeat themselves in different songs, in different contexts. (I'm only focusing on the non-standard tracks because there are too many songs and I'd be here all day but I bet I could do a part two lol.) I know many people have pointed out the parallels throughout her discography already and I’m not saying anything groundbreaking by writing this, but I love how these parallels run through in the same album, because it makes it seem like it's one long story, or at least, one long rumination on many different stories that are coalescing into a single narrative.

Battle (let’s go)

For instance, the one that jumped out at me when I started writing this post the other week was, "Tore your banners down, took the battle underground," in The Great War and "If clarity's in death, then why won't this die? Years of tearing down our banners, you and I," in Would've, Could've Should've. It's a story about staying stuck in the same cycle of reliving trauma and coping mechanisms and bad habits over and over again and fantasizing about how taking the “antagonist” out and gaining the upper hand for good would bring closure (WCS), but the truth is that nothing ever will. All that cycle does, though, is repeat itself in other situations, and in this case pushes someone away the narrator cares for (TGW). The difference is that the imagined battle in WCS is a two-way street in her mind (that is ultimately unwinnable because it was never a fair fight), but in TGW it's one-sided -- she's the one fighting dirty, taking shots, the way she'd been doing in her imagination (or nightmares) all these years. But the person in front of her isn't fighting back the way the person in her mind in WCS would, because their intentions are honourable instead of exploitative.

And that's paralleled in another pair of lyrics from the two songs, "And maybe it's the past talking, screaming from the crypt, telling me to punish you for things you never did," (in TGW) and "The tomb won't close, I fight with you in my sleep," (in WCS). In both cases, the funeral imagery makes it seem like this past event should be dead and buried in WCS, but it keeps rising from the dead, haunting her no matter what she does and in TGW, another (or perhaps the same?) tomb that won't close keeps unleashing new ways to hurt her and in turn the new person in her life. In other words, the trauma from the past continues to bleed into the present.

(Again from a literary point of view, I'm not saying the events of the two songs are linked IRL, but they're fascinating textual parallels on the album as a string of chapters, which is why Dear Reader is so compelling, but that's a whole other essay.)

To keep the battle motif going, there’s yet another parallel, this time between TGW’s "[You were a] soldier down on that icy ground, looked up at me with honor and truth," and You’re Losing Me’s "All I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier, fighting in only your army.” In the former, the subject is laying down his armour in the war she’s projecting onto him, waving the white flag, and she realizes that she’s about to destroy something if she doesn’t put her sword down too. By the time we get to YLM, the roles are almost reversed; at the very least they’re supposed to be on the same team, but in this case she’s doing all the heavy lifting, fighting for their relationship in contrast to his apathy killing it. It’s also pretty interesting (if not outright intentional) that one of the 3am+ editions of the albums starts with The Great War, where they find themselves in conflict (even if it’s in her head) that ends in a truce, and ends with You’re Losing Me signalling the end of the relationship, evidence that the resolution in the first song wasn’t an ending but merely a ceasefire before the last battle.

Putting the rest under a cut because this is waaaaay too long now ⤵️

(There’s also another metaphor there in The Great War with its battle imagery: World War I, aka The Great War, was supposed to be the war to end all wars, because loss on its scale was never seen before and when it ended, most thought never again would the world embroil itself in such battle, the horrors and implications were so devastating. Two decades later, the world found itself in WWII, with an even larger scope and more horrific consequences, the intervening time between the two a period of festering conflicts and resentment leading to some of the worst acts the world would see. Bringing real life into it for a second, there’s something a little poetic, though sad, about The Great War the song being about a fight that could have ended the relationship that they ultimately resolved and was meant to be evidence of the strength of their love, but so too did it end up being a period of détente, the greater battle coming for them years later. But that is not the point of this post.)

If one thing had been different

Another major theme in these editions is pondering the "what ifs?" of life, but I think it takes on even more significance in the broader context of the album in the lyrics of "I'm never gonna meet what could've been, would've been, should've been you," in Bigger than the Whole Sky and the repetition of would've/could've in Would've, Could've, Should've (I would've looked away at the first glance, I would've stayed on my knees, I would've gone along with the righteous, I could've gone on as I was, would've could've should've if I'd only played it safe, etc.) In both songs, the narrator is mourning an alternate course their life could have taken* and questioning what they could have done differently, in the aftermath of trauma and loss, and the regret that comes with that loss, and with the loss of agency in the situation because ultimately it was never in their hands. In an album full of questions, wondering about the path not taken, or the forks in the road that have led to a different version of your life, it's digging deeper into the contrast of choice vs. fate, action vs. reaction, dwelling on the past vs. moving on. When you're supposed to let go of the past, what do you do when it is holding your future hostage?

(*I know there are different interpretations/speculation about BTTWS which I am not getting into on main. I'm just saying that whatever the song is about, it's grieving something that never came to be. The literal origin of the song is less important to the album than the sense of loss it portrays. Whatever the inspiration is, it's crafted to tell part of the story of Midnights of ruminating over how, to borrow from her previous work, if one thing had been different, would everything be different?)

(Also I was today years old when I realized that the words are inverted in the two songs. Apparently I've been hearing BTTWS wrong this whole time.)

There's also an interesting tangent in the role of faith in both songs: in WCS, the events of the story cause her to lose her faith (e.g. "All I used to do was pray," "you're a crisis of my faith,") and question all the things she felt had been unquestionable until that point in her life (e.g. "I could have gone along with the righteous"), whereas in BTTWS, she questions whether that very lack of faith is to blame for the loss in that song ("did some force take you because I didn't pray? [...] It's not meant to be, so I'll say words I don't believe"). It's like pinpointing the moment her life changed and upended her beliefs (WCS), but as a result then leaving her unmoored in times of crisis because ultimately there's no explanation or comfort to be taken from what she used to hold true before that (BTTWS). The words she once relied upon to guide her have long since lost their meaning, but in times of trouble it leaves her wondering if that faith she once held then lost could have prevented this pain.

(Shoutout to WCS for being Catholic guilt personified lol.)

To keep on with the vaguely faith-y notions, an obvious parallel is the line in Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve about, “I damn sure never would've danced with the devil at nineteen,” and, "When you aim at the devil, make sure you don't miss," in Dear Reader. All of WCS is about her fighting with an antagonist who haunts her, with whom she wholly regrets ever becoming involved. DR could be seen as a reflection on that fall from grace, warning the audience that if you choose to go after the person (or thing) haunting you, make sure you do so clearheaded enough to be decisive. Again, these “devils” may not be related in real life: the IRL devil in DR could be speaking about her naysayers, or Kim*ye, or Scott & Scooter B, etc., meaning not to cross your enemies until you know you can win. But taking real life out of it and looking at it textually, I am intrigued by the link between WCS and DR, so that’s what I’m going with here. And perhaps that’s even the point in a wider sense; there will be multiple “devils” in your life, or threats to your well-being. If you’re going to commit to taking them down — whether it’s an actual person, or the demons inside you that refuse to let you go — make sure you have the right ammo so that they can no longer hurt you. (Of course, one lesson from these experiences is that sometimes you can’t win, and you have to live with the fallout.)

(Sidebar: I know that “dancing with the devil” is a turn of phrase that means being led into temptation and engaging in risky behaviour, as opposed to describing the actual person. Given the religious metaphors in the song, that could very well be/is the intention, particularly when it’s preceded by, “I would have stayed on my knees” as in she would have continued to follow her faith — in whatever sense that means — had she never met this person, which could also be a more eloquent way of saying she would have continued to be live her life in a way that was righteous (even naive) and seen the world in black and white. Either way, it’s a force she wholly rejects. Like I said, multiple devils, same fight.)

Regret comes up too: in WCS, she says, "I regret you all the time," obviously directed at the person who manipulated her and led to her perceived downfall, citing him as the one impulse she wished she'd never followed, because it won't leave her no matter how hard she’s tried. In High Infidelity, she tells the person to, "put on your records and regret me," and on the surface, it’s like she’s turning the tables, painting herself as the one now causing the regret in someone else, the one inflicting the pain this time. Yet the verse preceding it and the lines following it in the chorus depict a partner who is also emotionally manipulative and vindictive like in WCS (“you said I was freeloading, I didn’t know you were keeping count,” “put on your headphones and burn my city,”). It’s not so much that she’s intentionally harming the person (the way the person in WCS does to her), but rather that the venom in the subject’s feelings towards her seeps through; she’s imagining the way he’s going to feel about her when she leaves, hating her just for by being who she is. (There could be another tangent about how in both songs she’s there to be a “token” in a game for both of the men, who play her for their own purposes.) The regret is dripping with disdain. It’s as though she’s picturing how the person is going to hate her for doing what she’s thinking of doing the way she hates the person who first hurt her.

Sadness, unsurprisingly, shows up in a few lyrics. In BTTWS, “Everything I touch becomes sick with sadness,” sets the scene of a person so overcome with grief that it permeates everything around them; they cannot see their way out of it and feel like the fog will never lift. In Hits Different, it’s, “My sadness is contagious,” the result of a breakup where the person’s grief again touches everything and everyone around them, pushing them further in their despair and loneliness. The reason behind the grief in either case may vary, but regardless of the source, the feeling is overpowering and isolating. They may be different chapters in the story, but the devastation is hauntingly familiar. (As is a recurring theme in Midnights as a whole: there are situations and feelings that present themselves at different points in her journey and colour in the lines in different ways along the road. Like revisiting an old vice and realizing the hit isn’t quite the same as it was in the past.)

Death by a thousand cuts

She also writes about wounds on this album, which isn't surprising I suppose given that the whole conceit is that these are things that have kept her up at night over the years. WCS is perhaps the driving narrative on this never ending hurt when she sings, “The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign, I regret you all the time,” suggesting that no matter what she does, the pain of this experience has permeated everything she’s done afterwards. (Not unlike the overwhelming grief in BTTWS, for instance.) Elsewhere, in High Infidelity she sings, "Lock broken, slur spoken, wound open, game token," and in Hits Different, "Make it make some sense why the wound is still bleeding.” Again I'm not suggesting they're about the same events; the line in HI is about a situation where a partner crosses a boundary, hits below the belt, picks at an insecurity (or creates a new one) and treats the relationship like it's transactional, opening the floodgates in turn. In HD, the wound seems to be more self-inflicted, where she's pushed the person away. (Over a situation real or imagined she feels she needs distance from.) But again, something has picked at her like a raw nerve, and just like in the past, she's hurting, even in a different time and place and person. Almost like the wounds of the past break open over and over again to create new scars. If one were to extrapolate further, it wouldn’t be the biggest leap to wonder if the wound open in WCS, then torn apart in HI makes the one in HD hurt even more.

(I once wrote a post about how I think as time goes on, WCS is going to turn into one of those songs that will be found to drive so much of her work, because it’s just… kind of the unsaid thesis statement of so much of her songwriting.)

Another repeated theme is that of the empty home and loneliness. In High Infidelity, she sings, "At the house lonely, good money I'd pay if you just know me, seemed like the right thing at the time," painting a picture of someone who may have everything they'd want to the outside world, but in reality feels metaphorically trapped in their home (or at least alone amidst abundance), a symbol of a relationship gone sour and a failure to build connection. She just wants someone to understand her, want her for her, but as she's written earlier in the song, she's just a pawn in the game, a trophy from the hunt. Home, in this case, is lonely, isolated, an emblem of her fears. In Dear Reader, she continues this thread, then singing, "You wouldn't take my word for it if you knew who was talking, if you knew where I was walking, to a house not a home, all alone 'cause nobody's there, where I pace in my pen and my friends found friends who care, no one sees you lose when you're playing solitaire." It's the same idea, admitting to listeners that the gilded cage she lived in kept her distanced from her loved ones and real connection, keeping her struggles close to the vest but feeling desperately lonely amidst her crowning success. She's pushed people away and it may have felt like the right thing at the time, but in the end maybe felt like she was trapped. And when you push people away, eventually they take you at your word and stop pushing back; you’re a victim of your own success at isolating yourself. What starts out of self-preservation then further perpetuates the underlying problems.

(There's another interesting link about "home" also feeling unsafe with HI's "Your picket fence is sharp as knives," which further leads into the theme of marriage/domesticity feeling dangerous, which is a whole other thing I won't get into here because it's another discussion and may derail this already gargantuan word salad.)

In a slightly similar vein, we have the metaphor of bad weather for a rocky road or unstable relationship, in High Infidelity again with, "Storm coming, good husband, bad omen, dragged my feet right down the aisle" and You’re Losing Me’s "every morning I glared at you with storms in my eyes.” They aren’t speaking of the same situation or even same kind of breakdown, but it is pretty interesting how the idea of clouds/storms/floods/etc. play such a role in Taylor’s music to signal depression, apprehension, fear, uncertainty, etc. In HI, I think the “storm” coming is the looming threat of commitment to a partner who makes the narrator uneasy (if not fearful). In this case, the idea of making a life with this person is not one that incites joy or comfort, but instead makes the narrator feel that dark times are ahead if she continues down this path. Perhaps in some way, the “storms” in YLM have made good on the threat in HI in a different way; it’s a different home, a different relationship, but the clouds have settled in regardless, and some of her fears have come to fruition in ways she did not expect. The person she once trusted no longer sees her or her struggles (or worse, doesn’t care), and the resentment and pain build with each passing day.

Coming back to heartbreak, one of the obvious "full circle" moments is the beginning of a relationship in Paris, where she says that, "I'm so in love that I might stop breathing," clearly enthralled in a new love that allows her to shut the world out and grow in private, capturing the all-encompassing nature of the relationship. This infatuation has consumed her in the most wonderful way (in contrast to the sorrow of some of the previous songs), and it feels like a life-altering (or even life-sustaining?) force that is so strong she may forget what it’s like to breathe. (Metaphorically speaking, of course.) By the end of the album, though, in You're Losing Me, that heart-stopping love has become a threat: "my heart won't start anymore for you." In the former, her racing heart is full of excitement, but by the latter, her heart has given out completely under the weight of the pain she bears. (YLM is full of death/illness imagery which I already wrote about awhile ago so I won't hear, but needless to say that song deserves its own essay for so many reasons.) She's gone from the unbridled joy of the beginnings of a relationship to the unrelenting sorrow of its end, two sides of the same coin.

Love as death appears elsewhere in the music too, for instance, in High Infidelity’s, “You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough" and You’re Losing Me’s “How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dying? […] My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick.” Though not completely analogous situations, they both tell the tale of one partner’s apathy (or at least denial) destroying the other. In the former, the partner’s actions (or inaction) are more insidious, if not sinister; in the latter, the lack of momentum (or admission of a problem) is passive. In both cases, the end result is the narrator’s demise; it’s a drawn out affair that chips away at her morale and her health and her sense of self. (Breaking my own rule about bringing in alleged actual events into the discussion, but the idea that the relationship in High Infidelity, which was obviously fraught with unease and even fear, ended in a similarly excruciatingly slow and hurtful death by a thousand cuts as the relationship in You’re Losing Me almost did at that time must have been so painful. It almost feels like YLM is wondering why what used to be a source of light in her life was mirroring a situation that caused her such pain in the past.)

From the same little breaks in your soul

I said early on that part of what is so compelling about Midnights is that it feels like an album about ruminating — on choices, on events, on people — and the two final “bonus” tracks of the album depict that as well. In Hits Different, she sings that, “they say if it’s right, you know,” an ode to the confusion of a breakup and struggling with the aftermath of calling it quits. It’s a line that has always intrigued me, because the typical use of the phrase is in the sense of, “you’ll know when you meet the one,” but here it seems to have a double meaning, a reassurance perhaps from the friends (who later on tell her that "love is a lie") that she’ll know if she’s made the right decision in calling it off, but could also be her wondering if the relationship is right, she’ll know, and want to reconcile. In the final bonus track, You’re Losing Me, she sings, “now I just sit in the dark and wonder if it’s time,” this time leaving no doubt about the dilemma she faces, though it’s no less fraught. She’s wondering, perhaps for the last time, if now is finally the moment to end the relationship for good. They say that if it’s right she’ll know, and now she’s wondering if that feeling inside her (that once told her her partner was the one, which is why it hit differently), is telling her that it’s time to go for good. Wait Alexa play “It’s Time To Go.” These are not only the things that keep her up at night, but the things that play over in her mind like a film reel in her waking hours.

Midnights as a whole is a deeply personal album, as is most of Taylor's work, but the 3am+ edition tracks seem to dig even deeper to a lot of the issues raised on the standard album. Almost like the standard tracks are the things she wonders about on sleepless nights, but the bonus tracks are the things that haunt her in the aftermath. The regret, anger, sadness, grief, relief, even joy— they’re the price she pays for the memories she keeps reliving. Midnights might be the most cohesive narrative of all her albums, and really does feel like we’re watching someone work through her journal over time, stopping short of outright naming those giant fears and intrusive thoughts (except for when she does) but making them plain as day when you connect the songs together, and perhaps never more clearly than in the expanded album. It’s incredible how the songs stand on their own to relay a specific moment in time, but that they are also self-referential to each other (whether thematically or overtly) to weave a larger web over the entire work. We’re so lucky as fans to have these stories and to keep peeling back these layers as time passes. (And my literature-analysis-loving ass loves her even more for it.)

This is obviously by no means an exhaustive list, and I know there are more parallels and probably even stronger links (particularly when you add the standard version into the mix), but these were the ones that particularly struck me and I’m just glad I’ve had a chance to sit with this and think it through. ❤️

#writing letters addressed to the fire #me thinking too hard about taylor lyrics #taylor swift #midnights #long post #lyrics analysis #song parallels #Gabby this one is for you friend <3 #here goes nothing #Happy Friday or something idk!#(also i know i said there are things i wouldn’t discuss on main but my dms are open lol)#this is not as structured or well plotted out as I wanted it to be #and turned out to be more stream of consciousness than legit essay #but whatever at least i got my thoughts out there and it can release some plot of land in my brain for other stuff to think over lol #If anyone ever reads this thank you! And I’m sorry?#The best compliment i ever got in school #was when we were doing an analysis of a poem in English lit in college #And i brought something up casually #and my prof went ‘I’ve been teaching this class for eight years and that’s the first time anyone’s ever brought it up like that’#’and that just blew my mind’#and i was like ‘who me?’#so that’s all you need to know about me lol #Midnights: The Great War #Bigger than the whole sky #bttws #Midnights: Paris #Midnights: high infidelity #would’ve could’ve should’ve #Midnights: dear reader #midnights: bigger than the whole sky

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r4pira · 6 months

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The power

it suits you (I can taste it on you)

inspired by THIS amazing fic by @hazeism

#dracule mihawk #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #akataka #mishanks #one piece #art #hello haze😳.....#once again i'm here to confess my deep love for your writing #i sometimes think about the emotional impact they (the Fanfics) had on me #and then i reread them. and end up experiencing even more . even more of it all #thank you million times #anyway . the only time i won't draw mihawk with pointy vampire-ish ears is when he's drinking blood because #that's just how it is. they do live inside each other #<3

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allastoredeer · 3 months

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I read the new chapter of Holy Suffering as soon as it came out and I love the way u write Lucifer. For the past few days I have been reading Radio apple fanfic and I hate how lucifer is portrayed in most of them, shy , innocent with Alastor after the fight, and kinda out of character for the both of them, cause they suddenly like each other, and I don’t see it in them. They like to piss each other off, that’s the whole ship point.

Ur Lucifer is so sassy, Hits all the Good Characterization checks in my brain, he’s such a delight to read, same for Alastor. U had me going speechless most of the time Alastor spoke, cause I honestly didn’t know what he was gonna say next. Writing Alastor it’s probably hard, cause he is misterious and always hides his emotions but You totally nailed it. Right now he is probably angry at Lucifer cause he ratted him out lol

Al be like the audacity of this man after he forced him to do this.🙄

Anywhizzle I just wanted to ask, for the overload meeting, is Charlie gonna send Lucifer with Alastor? Maybe as a snake or something, to make sure is he okay. Cause she really sounded mortified that she didn’t notice that Alastor was suffering and man Al definitely didn’t like that, but it’s not like he can say no to Charlie so

A nd is there like a schedule for next updates? I am really invested in this story and I honestly can’t wait to read more of it.

Thank you ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ Hahah Lucifer's got bite to him, for sure. He doesn't come off as the shy type to me. Awkward as hell, certainly. In the throes of depression, absolutely. And he cares about Charlie's opinion of him to a fault. But when it comes to someone throwing their weight around--or, more accurately, getting involved with Charlie (cough Alastor helping Charlie with the hotel, couch Adam fighting/hurting Charlie cough) he isn't afraid of getting his hands dirty.

Alastor is hard to write ಥ_ಥ I love him so much, but sometimes, I want to cut open his head and properly study his brain because f;knslnjsbj out of all the characters, he's the hardest for me to pin down, in terms of both dialogue and actions. He has such a way of talking, and such a distinct voice (his radio filter) that it's simultaneously easy to imagine his voice, but hard to put it to dialogue. So, I really appreciate hearing that I nailed it (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) Seriously, it's so appreciated to hear.

Nah, Alastor is going to be going to that one alone :3 It's going to be set in his POV, so we'll get some insight in his thoughts on the whole thing, and how he's handling his current affliction. I'm both excited to and nervous to get into it, because writing him in someone else's POV is hard, so writing him in his OWN POV is a little intimidating, but I'm mostly excited. I have a lot of thoughts for this series, and it's gonna be fun to explore them.

As for a schedule, I used to try to keep myself to one, and I've found that I have both a love/hate relationship with it. One the one hand, keeping a writing schedule is nice because it gives me a clear view of what I want to work on and an goal date to get it done, which is very nice for my ADHD brain.

BUT, on the other hand, when I start putting that pressure on myself to get it down, and I fail to actually reach that goal, it hits me pretty hard and it can take away my motivation and joy in writing the fic. It starts to feel more like a chore than a fun hobby I can do in my downtime.

Thankfully, I am DEEP in Hazbin Hotel hyperfixation, and the amazing feedback I've gotten from my fic's is certainly fueling my motivation. So thanks to everyone leaving kudos and comments! It's seriously so helpful and I cherish ever single one of them.

If I had to give an estimate for when the next installment of the series will drop, I'd say either at the end of this week, or the beginning/middle of next week. I have an unrelated AppleRadio one-shot I want to bust out before I work on the next installment, and that one I'm going to try and post by Thursday or Friday.

To quote out favorite Radio Demon,

~Stay Tuned

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malchai · 24 days

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pandorcas microfic | 1115 words | NSFW

for my darling euge @ecstarry, inspired by this post cw: knife play

Dorcas closes the door and collapses against it as the last of her guests leave the apartment. While she loves hosting, she can’t help but look forward to the moment when it’s just her and Pandora again. She sighs and lets her eyes slip close for a moment. The lights are still dimmed and the background music thrums through her. Her eyes finally crack open to see Pandora leaving the kitchen, holding a small cake out in front of her.

“Dora, what’s this?” Dorcas asks. She wasn’t expecting anything more after the party Pandora had just thrown her.

“Oh, just a little something for the birthday girl,” Pandora says. Up close, Dorcas can see the cake has dark red frosting with a white trim and three white candles on top. Pandora’s eyes shine from the light of the flames. Pandora walks up to her and holds out the cake.

“Make a wish, darling,” Pandora says, with a smirk. Dorcas catches the wild glint in her eyes. The edge of danger, the moment before the drop. Pandora’s pupils are eating away at the blue of her irises. Dorcas feels breathless.

She maintains eye contact as she leans in, puckers her lips, and blows out the candles one at a time. Pandora hums happy birthday and places the cake on her side table where a carving knife lays. She picks it up and cuts a small slice, balancing it on the side of the blade.

“Want a taste?” She holds up the knife to Dorcas’ mouth. A challenge, a dare. But that’s how it’s felt ever since they started this. Even before it, if she’s honest. Precariously teetering on the edge of a blade. And who is Dorcas to back down from it. Dorcas parts her lips and accepts. The tip of the knife slips in. The sweet taste of the icing hits her tongue. The cake is delicious. Soft and spongy. Dorcas swallows.

“How is it?”

“It’s perfect.”

“Really? Let me try some.” Pandora holds up the knife, and licks along the side in one long stripe. Dorcas can’t tear her eyes away from the dark red icing staining her pink mouth. “Mm, that is good. Let me try some more.”

Pandora skims some frosting off the top of the cake before turning towards Dorcas. “I know you’ve been watching me all night, Cas.”

With the clean edge of the knife she flicks a braid over Dorcas’ shoulder before dragging the tip of the blade across Dorcas’ left collarbone, the blade biting the skin but not breaking it. Dorcas feels her heart speed up, her palms start to sweat. Pandora smears the icing in the hollow of her throat, and Dorcas almost chokes when the coolness of the knife is replaced by Pandora’s hot tongue cleaning up the mess.

“But you’ve been such a good girl. So patient and sweet. So attentive with your guests even though it’s your day.” It’s getting harder and harder for Dorcas to formulate coherent thoughts. The knife is back, tracing up her neck before hitting her pulse point. Pandora presses in and Dorcas moans at the sensation, pulse fluttering under the blade. Pandora scrapes the icing on the underside of Dorcas’ jaw, before once again Pandora's mouth is on her. Pandora sucks hard, and Dorcas’ back arches off the door, pushing their chests together but Pandora keeps her hips angled away. She licks a stripe from Dorcas’ jaw line to behind her ear, nips at her earlobe.

“Now, I’ve got the birthday girl all to myself. Whatever shall I do with you?” Pandora murmurs, lips brushing the shell of Dorcas’ ear.

She leans back slightly, so that Dorcas can see her whole face. Pandora looks giddy. She slides the knife across Dorcas’ cheek and follows the movement with her eyes. It’s almost a tender caress, until the blade presses into the skin of her cheekbone drawing blood. Dorcas’ breath stutters, her chest heaving in a futile attempt to draw in air. She feels high off the adrenaline.

“Pandora.”

“You’re so pretty, baby,” Pandora says, awestruck, as if Dorcas is something special. A fragile piece of art. Or a specimen under the glass. Pandora grabs Dorcas by the chin in a tight grip. She leans in and collects the icing from Dorcas’ cheek with her tongue, lapping up the trickle of blood but avoiding the split skin.

As soon as her grip slackens, Dorcas turns her head to crash their mouths together, and the tension ignites. Pandora presses Dorcas into the door, thigh sliding between her legs. Dorcas moans into her mouth at instant relief after being on the edge for so long. The kiss is all tongue and teeth, a battle from the start. The sweetness of the icing, mixing with metallic taste of iron, and something uniquely Pandora is a heady combination. Dorcas can’t get close enough.

“Need more,” Dorcas gasps into Pandora’s mouth.

“I’ll take care of you, babygirl.” Pandora bites Dorcas’ bottom lip hard, then soothes the sting with her tongue as her hand sneaks between them to undo Dorcas’ jeans. Pandora slips her hand into Dorcas’ pants, and without warning presses a finger into her. Pandora greedily swallows the noises falling from her mouth.

“Fuck.” In retaliation, Dorcas nips at her neck and sucks a bruise into her pulse point. Dorcas already knows she’s dripping, has been since the moment this started, so after a few moments, a second finger easily joins the first. Pandora’s thumb circles her clit, and Dorcas chokes out a sob, hiding her face in Pandora’s neck as Pandora starts to fuck her in earnest.

Dorcas’ hips jerk forward as Pandora’s thumb presses into her clit. Her fingers pump into her harder, faster, bringing Dorcas to the edge too quickly. But when she feels the tip of the knife press into the hinge of her jaw, Dorcas knows she’s done for.

“Look at me. I want to see you as you come for me,” Pandora says. Dorcas’ eyes meet Pandora’s as she moves the knife to press into the front of Dorcas’ throat. Dorcas takes in her flushed cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, and the dark eyes pinning her in place. Pandora Rosier looks like sin incarnate. “There you are.”

Dorcas’ vision black out. She throws her head back with a cry, and Pandora uses the opportunity to lavish her neck, still working her through her orgasm. It takes Dorcas a few moments to return to herself.

“Definitely one of the best birthday presents I’ve ever received,” Dorcas tells her, laughing in disbelief.

“Oh angel, the night’s just getting started,” Pandora coos. Her face breaks out into a mocking grin. “You better hold on.”

#i love your brain euge #christening my new blog with some pandorcas #pandorcas #dorcas meadowes #pandora rosier #pandora lovegood #dorcas x pandora #pandora x dorcas #marauders fic #euge tag <3 #renn writes #and thank you to india for putting up with me while i wrote it

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cerise-on-top · 4 months

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Hi! I hope you've been doing alright!

I was wondering if you could possibly write something for Valeria comforting reader having a bit if a meltdown. Something along the lines of reader being overwhelmed by their job and just the emotions that come with the end of the year, and having Valeria just hug them, maybe do something sweet like surprising them with their favorite treat, etc. because she had been noticing the way reader had been a bit off. essentially some fluffy hurt/comfort <//3

I don't know if that's a bit much, but you're welcome to say no! Anyways, I just want to let you know that your writing is incredibly awesome and I hope that the new year treats you well! You put out a lot of great content but i really hope you're not overworking yourself either, make sure to take breaks and take care of yourself and yeah, ♡

-☆

Anon, unless you tell me to either write the most gruesome thing imaginable or straight up something that is not meant for minors, then I have no problem with any request! I tried to make it good, but I've always struggled with writing dialogue, and for that I am genuinely sorry! I hope it's still enjoyable enough, though! It's more of a fic again than anything else, at a good 3.000 words! I'm wishing you a good 2024 and that the new year may treat you more kindly than the current one has! Best of everything to you, anon! And best of everything to everyone else too, of course!

Valeria Comforting Reader

You had always been a strong person in Valeria’s eyes. You had to be in order to be with someone like her, after all. Caring for someone so vile in many people’s eyes, knowing fully well of her business, it was in spite of all of that you stayed with her. The way she could come home to you, giving it your all at work, giving her that kind smile of yours she was certain she didn’t quite deserve, it made even someone of her caliber a bit softer than usual. For as little as she cared about anyone else, wishing to have most people’s head on a stake at this point, if you gave her the command, she’d burn down every inch of this sorry planet just to see you smile again, just to watch the flames of life dance in your eyes. And from the ashes she’d raise something new, something better than what was right now. Valeria knew she could count on you, no matter what, but she hoped you did the same for her too.

Your eyes used to be full of vivacity, so lively whenever you got to see her, there was you trilling a song like a nightingale when you made her a cherry pie, from time to time she had to shut you up considering you never stopped talking whenever she came home. Bloody Valeria, who knows how many people she has killed? How many people would continue to suffer because of her selfishness? She had been called many things, a witch, a wench, a worthless wanton. But in those beautiful eyes of yours? The way you’d call her over, using sickeningly sweet nicknames in Spanish you picked up from somewhere. “Mi alma, mi tesoro, how is the most beautiful wife in this universe doing?” Granted, Valeria cringed when you suddenly started speaking Spanish to her of all people, but even so, she had to admit, you were so adorable, leaving her no choice but to respond in nothing but Spanish for the evening to compensate.

But even among the lovely banter the two of you often found yourselves in, it wasn’t enough to keep the light in your eyes from extinguishing. Your beautiful voice became rarer and rarer until you only spoke when spoken to. Whereas Valeria would once need to tell you to stop hugging her in public, these days she was happy if you as much as grabbed her hand while you were both seated on the couch. What happened to you? She wanted to know, she needed to know, but you wouldn’t budge. Whatever weighed on you took its toll on you, it wasn’t something Valeria could just fix with money, it seemed. A forced smile, empty eyes. Ever since you started that new job of yours a while ago, it seemed to never end for you.

Even as she sent one of her trusted people out to check on you, you were wary, knowing fully well about the dangers Las Almas posed to anyone living there, especially Valeria. You did not hesitate to tell her about that odd person coming to your workplace, that man could have been anyone, could have killed her. She was grateful, to have you be this open with her on a matter that concerned her, but in the same breath she cursed you for not taking better care of yourself. If she could, she would have come to your workplace to kill your boss, your superior, anyone giving you a hard time yourself. But alas, Los Vaqueros were on her heels again. And thus, she fled for another few weeks, leaving you alone in your unbearable misery. By no means was Valeria a traditionally affectionate person, but if she had to be more “normal” in that regard to see your happiness again, she could try.

The new year seemed nice around this year, with the first of January being on a Monday. The beginning of the year was also the beginning of a new week. Valeria could have stalled for time, waiting until it was midnight, but she decided to come home to you without intervention this time. That she decided until she found a small bakery, run by an elderly lady and her husband, that she had known for a while. Evening of the 30th, the shop was just about to close up when Valeria drove by, stopping right in front of it. The couple didn’t seem to mind her being here this late, giving her the usual wishes for a new year. May she be healthy, may she be happy. Lovely, if only such a thing would hold true for you instead. The wares seemed promising, obviously homemade. The bright, white cake with the strawberries on top seemed to catch her eyes. There weren’t many baked goods left, namely some cakes, some cookies and some rolls, but that tres leches looked delicious.

It didn’t take long for her to have bought the little treat. Enough for you, enough for her. Maybe such could cheer you up, if just a little bit.

The night was cold this time, with the clouds not covering a single bit of the sky. The moon was waning once again, leaving behind the world for its own purposes, leaving it in the dark where anyone and anything could be hiding. For all Valeria knew, someone could decide to try and pick a fight with her right now. Someone would die, but it wouldn’t be her. Never her, she had someone to come home to, after all. Whatever slug decided to rob her on a night like this, they would come to regret their mother’s birth. However, as she got closer to your little abode, she couldn’t help but worry. What if it wasn’t her to get hurt, but you instead? By no means would that be likely, hidden away like the treasure you were, for her eyes only, but it wasn’t impossible. Valeria pressed harder on the gas pedal.

Only when she saw the lights on this late did she finally calm down a bit. You were home, everything seemed in order. With the cake in one hand and her keys in the other, she unlocked the door, pushing it open. She had every reason to be mad at the incompetence she had to work with on the daily, but somehow, she had even more reason to be worried about you. Her worries were only reinforced when she heard quiet sobs coming from the living room. Normally, she’d burst right in, her revolver in hand. But this time? No weapon in the world could fight your demons, she could only watch as you tried your hardest to fight another day, to make it through alive and somewhat well.

Slowly, she opened the door this time as well, making just enough noise for you to take notice of her. Like a deer in headlights, you stared at her, choking back another sob. Clearly, you didn’t expect her to be home this early at all, but it didn’t matter. You seemed scared, ashamed even, as your mouth hung open, trying to find the right words to say. Regardless of what it was that would leave your mouth, Valeria wouldn’t get mad, not this time. Having put down the tres leches, she turned to you, approaching you slowly so as to not startle you. Your eyes were red and puffy, your voice hoarse as you finally spoke. You wiped away your tears, giving her a forced smile, like you had been for a while.

“Valeria, welcome back! How are you doing?”

Your voice was barely above a whisper, trying your hardest to not make it as obvious that you had been crying. A futile attempt, but an attempt nevertheless. If she could have, Valeria would have wrung out your little heart, ridding you of your demons if just for this weekend, but alas. Sitting down next to you on the couch, she took one hand of yours in hers, the other arm slung around your shoulders.

“Cariño, what’s the matter? I’m not mad, I promise, I just wanna know.”

Your mouth formed an o, clearly trying to think of a bullshit excuse she wasn’t going to buy anyway. “Be honest with me!” Valeria’s voice was calm, even if she could feel the anger bubbling up inside of her. Whatever was eating at you, gnawing at your mind and your heart, you were going to tell her, preferably tonight.

Holding onto her hand, you squeezed it, looking away for a moment. She had her nails done that pretty pink again, the color you always liked so much on her. But even so, it was apparent you didn’t know what to say. Rather sooner than later, you had to come clean to her eventually. You had joked about it, but one of these days Valeria might just interrogate you for your mental wellbeing, counterproductive as that might be. Tears welled up in your eyes again as you bit your lips, hoping to seem just a tad bit less pathetic than before. Valeria was so strong, you had always been a joke in comparison.

“You know, you’re actually really tough, Valeria. You’re always on the move, always evading the bad guys, always doing what needs to be done in order for the both of us to have a good life. But look at me: I can’t even work properly without my co-workers trampling all over me. Every day I have to endure things that no one wants to put up with, every day I can’t say no to them even if I tried. Sometimes I do wish I was more like you, really. It’s just… I haven’t accomplished anything. Nothing I do seems to matter. This year was awful, and I have little hope that the next one will be any better. As much as I love you, Valeria, and you know that I adore you, I hope you’ll find someone better next year. Someone who’s worthy of having you around, someone who won’t bitch and cry over every single little thing. I’m a weak and pathetic little loser who’s nothing like you. Can’t say no, and it’s slowly killing me. I want to just run away forever, never to be seen again, and become a cryptid of sorts. I fucking hate myself, I hate this miserable, shitty planet I was born on, and I hope next year is going to be my last! I don’t think I can make it through another one.”

For a second, even Valeria was quiet, not thinking it was going to be this bad. She knew you were unhappy, but she didn’t think you were hoping to die this soon. You and her had your entire lives ahead of you, preferably together. There was no way Valeria could let something like this just slide. This was something big and important, not something you should just sweep under the rug and never talk about.

Valeria removed her arm and hand from yours, only to grab your face, cradling it somewhat roughly, to make sure you would look at her. Despite never having been an emotional person, this was important. You were going to look at her, no matter how much you protested, wanting to look away, and you were going to listen too.

“Don’t you dare say something like this ever again, you hear me? You’re going to live alongside me, and you’re going to live well. If I have to kill all of your co-workers myself, I will. You’re the last person that should die on this rotten planet. I had to live this long without you in it, you’ll be okay, I’ll make sure of it. But don’t you fucking dare ever think about dying again, alright? If your boss is a bastard, who gives a shit. Same for your co-workers. You need a job? A good one you’ll enjoy with nice people? Cariño, I can get you in just about anywhere. You wanna work at a bakery? At an elementary school? You wanna work an office job? Hell, if you want I’ll make sure you’ll get to do home office whenever you need it too, but you’re not going to leave me alone just like that. The next year is going to be good to you, and it won’t be a matter of if. It’ll be a matter of when, and at my command, a good year for you will start on Monday, and that’s final.”

Her voice was almost loud, she was clearly mad. Not at you, you could never do any wrong in her eyes, but at the people who made you feel this way about yourself, about everything regarding you. It scared you, you wanted to pull away, but her grasp on you grew stronger. She meant well, you knew that much, but never did you think you could make her this mad. You were gentle, you were kind, and that also showed in how Valeria would treat you. You weren’t some kind of replaceable lackey, Valeria would never find someone like you again.

Your eyes were wide in fear and Valeria’s expression softened up a bit. “Look, I’m sorry for scaring you like that. But I need you to understand that you’re scaring me too when you say things like that. We’ll get through this together. You quit your job, we’re gonna find you a new one with good people that you can enjoy. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you next year, that I’m going to make sure myself. I’ll try to take off more days, try to get more time for you so we can be together. But please don’t do anything too rash, please don’t do anything dumb. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I lost you. Alright?”

Once again, you teared up, but this time you couldn’t look away either, Valeria was still holding you.

“Alright?”

“Alright, fine. Valeria, I’m so sorry.” Your voice was quiet, broken by your current circumstances. When was the last time someone cared about you like this? Valeria was the most dangerous woman in the country, and yet here she was, comforting a little no one like you who happened to meet her by happenstance. You didn’t bite back your sobs this time, letting it all out instead. It’s not like it was the first time she had ever seen you cry, but you wished it would be the last time. This was humiliating, even if your wife had found you in much worse situations. You closed your eyes, letting your tears fall freely.

“Please don’t apologize.” She placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before giving you a long and tight hug. A token example of how she cared for you. Despite not being one for physical affection, even she couldn’t deny you a hug when you were downright miserable. Although she wasn’t usually very warm, something about tonight, maybe it was the feeling of being disposable, made you feel warmer than usual. Valeria was by no means a kind woman normally, but somehow, you got to see this side of her that was unknown to everyone else. You knew she was the one for you.

Maybe leaving her alone would have been such a cruel thing of you after all. The way she held you when she was drunk, the way she’d kiss you when she finally got home after months of not seeing you, the way she’d look at you when she thinks you aren’t looking, it was all reminiscent of a fantasy you dreamed about when you were younger. Maybe you really didn’t need a hero, the villainess worked just fine for you. She held you like you were the most worthwhile treasure in the world. A hero would never do that, a hero would likely die to attain some silly goal. Valeria was different from that, she would litter the world with the corpses of those who wronged you. It was a challenging sort of love, but it was love nevertheless. You wanted to show her the same kind of love. Maybe you weren’t ready to kill someone for her just yet, but if it ever came down to it, maybe you could try to live again. Perhaps not for yourself as you were right now, but for Valeria. She was worth more than a planet made of pure diamonds.

Eventually, your sobs turned to sniffles, your sniffles died down. Valeria never stopped holding you until you had finally calmed down. It felt surprisingly good, letting it all out for once, not having to worry about being judged. Not many words were exchanged that evening, but they were sincere. Valeria loved you, you loved Valeria, it was that simple. You were going to remind yourself of that fact for the rest of eternity if you had to. Until you never had to actively think about that again, until it was that ingrained into your mind.

“Do you want some tres leches? I got some just for you on the way back home.”

You still held onto her shoulders, giving her the first proper smile of the evening. “You spend too much money on me, and you know it.” You playfully and lightly hit her chest, giving her a bashful look. “But, you know, I wouldn’t say no to it either.”

“There’s that beautiful smile, mi bello amor.” Once again, she cradled your face, this time much more gently than before. Once again, she gave you a quick kiss to your cheek before getting up to get the cake. Naturally, you followed suit, allowing her to take the lead as she always had. “Do you want the big piece or the small one?”

“I want you to have the big piece for being the best wife out there!”

“Wrong answer, you get the big one.” And with that, two plates and two forks had been prepared, each filled with some delicious, beautiful cake.

#cod #cod x reader #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #this year has been quite something but I can't say it's been my worst one yet #anyway more valeria content again <3 #she's such a popular character on this blog but I don't mind that in the slightest #I'm just glad I get to write for the girls and make sure they're loved as well #I'm also glad I got to pick up writing again as a hobby it really helps me a lot with feeling better #even if it can be overwhelming at times haha #anyway some lovely and soft Valeria for once even if she would kill someone for you #but that's just classic Valeria for you!#please enjoy anon and thank you for the request!#happy 2024 to everyone!

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stabbyfoxandrew · 2 months

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can you do a combo of 26 and 43 w/ andreil 🥺

26. A kiss while one or both parties are crying / 43. A bloody kiss

Andrew hadn’t seen it.

He really hadn’t.

Where the fuck had that car come from?

He’s not sure. He’s also not sure if he can feel his left foot. Or how many times the car rolled before deciding it preferred being upside-down. But Neil is hanging next to him, suspended only by his seat belt the same as Andrew. He’s not moving. And more frightening, he’s not running his mouth. Andrew's heart stops.

“Neil. Are you alright?” Andrew asks, afraid of the answer. It takes a second, but Neil slowly turns to look at him with glassy blue eyes. There’s blood trickling down his face from a gash on his forehead, his nose looks sort of weird.

He blinks a few times before saying, “I’m fine. You?”

Idiot. Andrew lets out a relieved sigh. “You’re bleeding.”

“I hit my head on the window a couple times. I’m fine,” Neil insists. “What about you?”

Andrew rolls his eyes and grabs Neil by his shirt, pulling him close. “We took ��fine’ away from you, remember?”

“I thought I got it back when I graduated,” Neil says, shrugging. Being upside down makes him look stupid, stupider than usual. But he’s alive. This crash had no casualties. Thank fuck. Andrew feels a very unfamiliar pricking in the corners of his eyes and curses himself for it. He must’ve hit his head, too.

“Yes or no?” He grits out. And Neil nods. Andrew grabs his face, not minding the slightly sticky feeling of blood, and presses careful lips to Neil’s. It's barely a peck of a kiss. Because oh. Andrew can feel his ankle now. But it definitely shouldn’t feel like this. Fuck.

His discomfort must show on his face because Neil is reaching for him. “Andrew, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Andrew lies. “But as soon as the EMTs cut me out of here, I’m going to kill the motherfucker that did this to my car.”

#I couldn't really see either of them actually Full On Crying but tearing up counts to me. So here you go dear. <3 #Thanks for the ask! <3 #andreil #🕊️#ask games #my writing #detectivebambam #answered

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strangefable · 8 months

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The Chariot

Micah Hale, Deputy, Hope County Sheriff Department

The Chariot is a card of willpower, transformation, confidence and determination. It's a card of forward movement and action, determinedly pushing into victory and overcoming challenges. It's a card of intention and resolve, facing obstacles head-on and never backing down.

For Micah, her motorcycle is her chariot, a symbol of her sense of self and her sense of freedom. The wings and antlers are symbolic of both her past and the guiding forces in her life, as well as representing her status as 'Rook' and her place with the Whitetail Militia.

Instead of the traditional wand, she's holding scales, weighed with planes. The allusion to John is obvious, as is her precarious balance between the Resistance and the Project; her torn loyalties and her desire to balance them despite all odds being against her.

Her sphinxes are Boomer and Peaches, opposing forces of their own that she walks between, keeping them together and working smoothly, and earning the loyalty of difficult and varied personalities.

Ultimately, she's a harbinger to both the Project and the Resistance, a hero and villain to both sides of the conflict, desperately, and vainly, trying to forge a path to peace.

She fits both upright and reversed readings of the card, as torn as she is in an impossible scenario she can't win, yet she never quite gives up.

All my deepest heartfelt gratitude to @redreart for so beautifully bringing this concept to life for me. She took my idea and turned it into something beyond my wildest dreams. The details are so perfect, from the colors to Micah's hair... every little bit is all I could've asked for and more. Thank you for bringing my girl to life so incredibly! <3 If you get the opportunity for a commission, don't hesitate! <3 <3

#micah hale #fc5 #far cry 5 #fc5 deputy #boomer #peaches #tarot #the chariot #redreart #awesome art #commission for me #this is everything to me absolutely *everything*#my birthday is next week and i couldn't have asked for better timing #i tried to make a proper write-up but i'm absolutely beside myself over this so forgive me if it's a little incoherent #it's so so so so perfect better than even my imagination #my whole heart is in this piece #it's HER and it's got just the right infusions of john happening and i'm just completely obsessed #my baby my deputy my girl look at her #thank you again redre <3 <3 <3

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backslashdelta · 5 months

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And Blaine Brings Him Flowers Because It's A Date Even Though They Think It's Not

Or, 5 times Kurt didn’t realize the flowers meant Blaine was into him, and 1 time he did.

Surprise! A gift for @worththejourneying for the @klainesecretsanta2023

Read it on AO3 or FFN!

#klainesecretsanta2023 #klaine #klaine fanfiction #glee #glee fanfiction #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #fanfiction #writing #my writing #worththejourneying #mine #my gifs #I struggled with coming up with an idea for a bit #but then this hit me and I am so pleased with how it turned out!!#I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3 #and thanks to the organizers for organizing this event!!

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hallowsden · 6 months

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Devotion

Zevlor x G/N!Tav snippet

Author Notes: All I'm gonna say is this was originally supposed to be only about 500 words only for me to finally get to the part of Act 2 where I managed to save Zevlor and OH BOY- it evolved into 1.2k words. Just- I adore Zevlor. This came out having more angst than I initially thought, though, so... Anyways, hope you all enjoy it! [Not beta read]

He pretends not to see the relief in your eyes when you first go up to him after fighting the Mind Flayers and Intellect Devourers. After all, why would you give him such a look with what he's done? No, that's just all in his imagination. He knows you're aware of his sins. Then again, you always did have a habit of knowing things before anyone else does...

Even without the tadpole that now inhabits his head like you and the other saviors, Zevlor could see through your brave mask. In those mismatched eyes he had grown fond of long before your lot had done the impossible all those months ago, he sees a mirror image of himself.

The festering fear that haunts you and everyone else like the shadows that barely stood by in this damnable land. The neverending guilt that attempts to drown you to the depths of your mind as the blood refuses to wash away from your hands, your head chanting apologies as you think about the what ifs of you have done better.

Zevlor knows that look you wore well. He's seen it in himself every time he caught a glimpse of his reflection, as of an occurrence that was... Not to mention, it reminded him of the others... The younger Hellriders especially tend to wear it more publicly, not yet developing the skills to effectively hide their inner demons yet... So many gone, just like that-...

The exhaustion you practically wore like a second skin, with bags that cling to you with a vengeance, one that came along with you before he had even met you. The exhaustion that weighed your trembling shoulders and buckling knees had it not been the adrenaline that roared through your ears-. Hell, he swears he could see some new scars marking your delicate face, even.

Has it been that long ago since he last saw you? You haven't appeared to have changed much, and yet...

And yet, as he goes on to blink, he senses it immediately as he explains himself to you. What once was the hollow void in your chest when he first met you, the one that mirrored his own so brokenly is now replaced with a bright, burning radiance of celestial strength and blessing, one that pulses to the beat of your heart.

A not so mirror image. But it was still you, nonetheless...

No longer were you a fellow oathbreaker who was ever so lost in the world and of yourself. You had what he once had, an Oath of Devotions that glowed in you but more, filling up your broken cracks like the way the false God had shown him if he just gave them his broken faith and devotion and followed what they said...

It was nothing but a lie, as his people got hunted down and slaughtered. The people he swore to protect... He betrayed them all and failed them once more.

But you're here, giving him a look of understanding... And admittedly, it confused him...

Why do you care for him, he's so tempted to ask. The moment you met him, you practically acted as if you were drawn to him like a Moth to a flame... He doesn't understand it. Why care for an old, decrepit man like him? And why did your eyes shine with familiarity when you two first met?

You saved him. And no doubt you saved the others. He just knows you did. From all that he knows about you, from word of mouth and the times you decided to hang around in his little area back in the Druid's Grove, you'd never let anyone suffer under your watch.

You were always so compassionate. He at first thought it was due to being a fellow Tiefling. Goodness, how the world already hated their kinds existence. It wasn't uncommon for Tieflings to stand up for one another. After all, who would if not themselves in the world they lived in? But no... He's seen how you work. Your heart was far bigger than the body that holds it. It was something he appreciated about you.

You were the person he once was. You were a person he wished to be once more. Brave and strong despite it all. Kind and passionate and protective even to the low lives like him.

He adored you more than he could ever realize up until now.

Maybe that's why he didn't hesitate when he hastily said "I want to help- if you let me" even when his throat burned with dryness and guilt as he spoke. Even when anxiety shot high in his blood, his tail pinned itself between his legs, feeling just how drained his body was.

He knows you have already done so much for him, for his people. But... Maybe he'll find salvation and forgiveness if he goes with you. Find redemption. At the very least, he could repay you with his services, even if it's being a meat shield as he goes to try and help out the others. He'd deserved that if anything...

Death was too good for someone like him. He deserved to be tortured for all his failures... Yet, when his eyes met yours...

... Maybe you were the angel he had prayed to the Gods for from before... Who knows? Not him. Not when he was surprised you even listened to any of his words. Not when you gave him such a gentle look, eyes full of empathy that he didn't deserve, as you asked him to join your party, another blade in the fight to come.

You... Want him by your side?*

And even when he had his doubts, not wanting to be a backstabber twice over, your glowing eyes met his as you said, "I trust you." You had said it with such earnestness, how could he deny you like that?

He could never turn you down, not with those eyes of yours... And distantly, he remembers how the other refugees would tease him upon meeting you back before everything went to shit... Admittedly, they were right. Just as you were drawn to him, he was drawn to you... Maybe that's why he cared for you more than others...

"... On the condition that if I ever freeze like that again, do not hesitate to strike me down. Better me gone than being a traitor once more." That was his only condition. And he sees you nodding, ignoring the slight hesitation you had at first.

He couldn't bear the idea of hurting you.

"Let's get you checked up and rested first, yeah? You've already been through a lot. And I need to go check for others trapped... Just follow me closely, alright?"

You care so much... He didn't deserve it.

Oh, how he didn't deserve you, but obediently, he followed you with his hand clasped in yours. For you, he'll give you his devotion and faith. His everything, even. After all, you never broke his trust. You never broke his faith. If anything, you gave him what he had lost for so long. Hope.

You have given hope to him just as you gave hope to others. Maybe that's what caused you to stand out from even your group.

You deserve the world with all the good you've done. Of how you saved his people. Of how you saved him. For that, he is grateful, and he'll make sure, as long as he sides with you, he'll help with any endeavors and goals you put your mind to, knowing it would always align with that good nature you carry in your heart. To the end, he will follow.

'So he swears, so mote it be.'

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