#first time writing a letter

[doccywhomst]

the actual literal meaning of TARDIS (Time and Relative Dimension[s] in Space) is so funny cause it’s just…. a very succinct description of what the vehicle travels through? “hello i’m a human and this is my CAR (Concrete and Roads)” uh yeah i sure hope it do

[demaparbat-hp]

Letters to Home

Read on AO3

"Live," she pleads. "I don't want you to sacrifice yourself for this war—for me. I just need you to come back. Please...please come back to me." . Zuko writes the letters whenever he can. During a break from a council meeting, late at night in his chambers, after another training session with Azula—all he does is write to her. Because he needs to let her know that he's alright and their plan is working. She needs to know that he'll come back.

[hyakunana]

Sponsor Switch!

[wlwloverwrites]

Home Gym

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader

Warnings: daddy kink, slight mention of sweat? in a sexy way, thigh riding, nipple play, light biting kink, normal things used as sex toy, smut, small amounts of fluff, oral sex, fingering, shower sex (18+)

Main Masterlist

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK. DO NOT REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS ON ANY OTHER PLATFORMS. DO NOT TRANSLATE MY WORK. NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO DO SO

You knew what your girlfriend was doing before you unlocked the front door. The walls rumbled with repeating vibrations. Her upbeat music she only ever played when she was working out echoed in the hallway. Your neighbors hardly complained… at least not about the music. They have complained about other loud noises coming your shared apartment.

You remember the first time they knocked on your door.

Sweat was beginning to build on your hairline, your robe was falling off your shoulder, and your feet were cold stepping on the hardwood floors. You opened the door to see your very uncomfortable neighbor, right away you knew they heard. You were mortified when they asked you keep it down. You gasped when they admitted your ‘rather loud noises’ had been a reoccurring problem. Genuine sorries fell past your mouth but were interrupted with a rather smug Kate.

Kate’s arms slipped around your waist while her lips found your bare shoulder. She kissed over the forming marks on your heated skin. She didn’t pay any attention to the same neighbor she sometimes helped carry groceries up the stairs. That neighbor was now bright red once they realized Kate was nude, completely unbothered. You said your rushed goodbyes and failed at keeping the noise down.

Your jingling keys did nothing to signal to your girlfriend that you were home. Their sound swallowed by the music Kate added to her ‘Gym’ playlist. After settling down, you found yourself taking a peek into her gym. She noted that the extra bedroom in your apartment would be the perfect place to work out. Your eyes trail over her body.

Her arms are glistening with sweat. Fly away hairs are glued to her forehead and her cheeks are flushed red. You watch as her necklaces dangle in the air with each push up. Her form is impressive, she makes it look easy. Staring at her lips you can see her counting under her breath, the last number falls past her lips with a loud sigh. She gets up to sit on her bench. She leans to get her water bottle and that’s when she sees you.

“Hey baby,” she says with a smile, setting her bottle down and lowering the music with her phone.

“Hi Kate.”

“How was your day?” She spreads her legs just an inch, welcoming you between them as you make your way over to her to greet her with a soft kiss.

“Was okay,” you hum against her lips, giggling softly when you feel her wandering hands.

“You look pretty, baby. Those are nice jeans,” she compliments with her eyes trailing down your body.

“Oh really? Thank you, a really pretty girl gifted me these jeans.” You reply playfully, giving her a nice twirl.

You recall the time she bought them. The skin on her arms was indented with the strings from the numerous shopping bags she insisted only she’d carry. She bought you so much you always had to find a way to rearrange your closet to fit even more clothes. Don’t even let her get started on jewelry. Your nightstand always had some type of jewelry resting on top. Sliver and gold necklaces, tennis bracelets, and rings sparkled with the soft light coming from your lamp. Kate loved buying you rings. Sometimes when she’s bored she just stops by the some random jewelry store and buys you another ring. She always takes a mental note on your reaction, trying to figure out which is your favorite style…. for research purposes of course.

“Girl has good taste,” Kate jokes slipping her hands into your butt pockets, giving your ass a playful squeeze that makes you laugh. “I’m just finishing up here. Do me a favor, baby,” She looks up at you. “Can you hand me the massage gun?”

You hum, turning to get what she asked for. You bought it for her birthday, you remember her smile when she realized what it was. She had been complaining about being sore after working out and occasional cramps, so you did what any good girlfriend would do. You added it to you shopping cart. You mess with the buttons, checking if it was charged.

“After you finish up, want to eat out?”

It’s quiet for a moment and look at your girlfriend confused. You roll your eyes playfully when you see the look on her face. The same cocky smirk you learned to love is on her face as she jokingly licks her lip.

“I mean since you’re offering. I wouldn’t mind…” Her hands grab your hips, her fingers tug on your belt loops forcing you down on her thigh. “I wouldn’t mind eating you out.”

You throw your head back with a laugh. The position you’re in is awkward, but before you can get off her thigh, her arm hugs your body down. Her unoccupied hand grabs the massage gun from your hand and switches it on.

“Finish up with me?” She asks innocently.

Too innocently.

Your hands went to her shoulders, awkwardly rubbing them to massage the forming knots. She sighs softly, you always loved the way you relaxed her. Dropping your hands to her arms, raising your eyebrows when you feel her muscles. Your lips part and suddenly you are hyper aware of your position. You never really noticed her ‘pump’ after working out, you were always quick to rush her in the shower or was simply not home to witness it; however, now you felt it. Kate seems to be in her own world, aiming the vibrating gun on her biceps.

Are you supposed to use it on your arms?

“Feels weird. I usually just do it on my legs,” she shrugs as if she can read your mind. You don’t know how you don’t put two and two together. It’s Kate for crying out loud. The both of you have been dating for the past two years and you still don’t know how you didn’t see her meticulously planning something in her head.

She smiles at you, it’s not a sweet smile.

It’s dark, and widens when your body jerks forward.

Vibrations crawl down her thigh and between yours. Just on the first setting, the vibrations were enough to dig your fingers into her flesh. Loud moans escape your mouth. Kate’s thumb hits a button, bumping up the speed and you feel like you’re flying. Throwing your head back leaves your throat to be Kate’s next victim. Her teeth bite at your skin making you hiss in pain. Your hiss quickly turns into a whine when she pulls away. A text notification pulls her attention away from you.

“K-Kate,” you whine. Your voice is shaky and you’re almost sure your eyes are crossed. Subconsciously your hips flex towards her body, your forehead fell at the junction of her neck.

“Hold on,” she is quick to dismiss you, not even caring one bit about you grinding on her bare thigh, like a bitch in heat. She doesn’t care that you are purposely shoving your breasts in her face to pull her eyes away from the screen and onto you. Your breathing become harsh, every vibration feeding into the sudden pleasure. Forcing your eyes open you look at Kate’s phone. She is the middle of typing a text when you whine again.

Kate shushes you.

Soaked between your thighs, with your wetness seeping through your pants and onto Kate’s thigh. An occasional moan would slip past your lips and it would result in a sharp stare from your girlfriend, but after the third one Kate had enough. Why she wanted silence was beyond you. Was she finally on the neighbor’s side?

Her empty hand, phone finally put away, fell right on your ass. A loud slap echoed through the room. Your skin burned, but it never stopped your hips, only made them faster. The slap only makes you moan louder. Clearly annoyed, the vibrations stop and you are left panting with want. There’s drool that piles by the corner of your mouth, but you quickly try to recover yourself. The inside of your thighs are numb.

“I told you to stay quiet, baby,” she tuts, her hand squeezes your face. She’s taunting you, knowing damn well how much you love when she gets cocky.

“But Daddy, I need you,” you whisper the words against her skin. Your lips are swollen from your teeth tugging at the poor skin. Fingertips dig into her clothes, a silent beg for her to get undress despite her being half naked and you being fully dressed.

“I know you need me, baby.” She whispers back, pushing her face closer to yours so your noses are brushing against each other. Her tongue peaks out from her lips and licks yours. “Want to know how I know?”

You don’t know what game she’s playing at, yet. Nonetheless, you nod, bumping your noses again. Leaning in for a kiss, you part your lips and tilt your head to the right. Patiently you wait because you know more is coming.

“It’s not because you’re begging for me,” she declines pressing a wet kiss against your lips before she pulls away with your bottom lip between her teeth. “It’s not because your eyes have gone all hazy.” You suck in a deep breath when she turns the gun back on and places against her thigh so you can feel the vibrations. “It’s because I can feel how wet you are between those pretty thighs.”

You whine into her neck, your body is shaking with need and it’s only then do you realize how right Kate is. You’re soaked between your thighs. Your panties feel like a second skin and your poor jeans do nothing to help when it came to friction. Drunk with pleasure you nod at her words. Grinding even harder against her thigh, chasing your high.

“‘m so wet,” you whine, sinking your teeth into the bare part of her shoulder. The salty taste of her sweat meets your taste and there is a small part of you that loves the taste. The bite makes Kate hiss in pain, she pushes you off slightly. Before you’re able to overthink why she practically rips your blouse off of you. Your blouse is now resting on top of a dumbbell and Kate’s mouth found its safe haven between your breasts. Not bothering to unclasp your bra, she shoves the padded material down, just enough so your nipples appear. Her lips wrap around your right nipple without warning.

“Come on, baby. Ride Daddy’s thigh. I know you want to.”

You can feel each syllable against your breast. Sensitive and needy you follow her instructions and whine when her lips find your left nipple. Kate, never the one to chose sides, gives the same treatment to the left breast. Groaning into your skin as her unoccupied hand finds your back. Dragging her fingertips down your skin until they find your jeans again. Kate loved the sight in front of her. You grinding against her thigh, bottom lips between your teeth, sweat building up on your forehead, sweet sounds escaping your lips, and most importantly the growing wet stain between your legs which ruins your jeans.

“Daddy knows your body too well, huh?”

She’s taunting you.

“Moan my name.”

“Kate.”

“Louder.”

“Kate!!”

The vibrations are strong — too strong. Your head feels fuzzy and eyes can’t seem to focus on anything. Drunk with pleasure you throw your head back, giving Kate more than enough space to attack sensitive parts of your neck once again. Hips are rolling fast against Kate’s thigh. Too busy chasing your high you barely kiss back your girlfriend who pulled you into a messy kiss. You whine against her lips when you the feeling in the pit of your stomach gets ready to be released.

“Fuck Daddy. I- I’m gon-,” you stumble over your words as Kate gives up on massaging her thigh and places the gun directly on your pelvis.

“Come on, baby. Get all messy for me,” Kate whispers against your skin, encouraging you to soak through your jeans. She bumps the vibrations even higher, sinks her teeth into the soft skin on your collarbone, and rolls your nipple with her free hand. It’s enough to push you off the edge.

Your eyes roll back as your whole body seizes with pleasure. Your fingers dig themselves into the full muscles in her arms. Your thighs clench trapping Kate’s so she can no longer bounce it. You feel wet between your legs, no doubt making your jeans a darker blue than before. You don’t know when the vibrations stop and the praises start.

“Pretty girl.” Kate’s mouth finds your ear, her teeth trap your earlobe, “Doing so good for Daddy.” Kate pays no mind in the aftermath stings caused from your nails. You smile softly when you feel sweaty arms wrap around your waist and a flushed cheeks rests on top of your naked breast. Kate, always the sucker for skin-to-skin contact, whispers how good you are for her. You giggle softly when you feel her wandering hands rub your back and her soft lips find your collarbone.

“You’re so pretty, baby.”

“Thank you.”

Kate laughs against your skin. Even when your mind isn’t working at its full capacity you still manage to keep your manners in check. The minutes you take in hold each other feel like hours, the both of you just enjoying each other’s touch. It isn’t until the sweat begins to build up that you pull away. Kate whines when you pull away but understands because her skin was flushed, which makes you feel bad. She never had the chance to cool off after her workout.

“Kate, honey. We need to shower. You’re stinky and I’m messy.” You groan, scrunching up your nose and giggling when Kate is clearly offended when you stated the truth. 

You jump off her lap when she reaches to tickle you. Smirking when you escape from her attacks and watch as she gets off the the bench. You back away and you sprint to the door, playing a small game of cat and mouse.

“You’re not too sore, baby?” She asked with faux concern, raising your suspicion as she makes no move to chase away you like she usually does.

“No. Are you?” You challenge, looking back at your girlfriend who is pulling off her sports bra, it takes all your willpower to not look. She stands shirtless in the middle of the room for a second before she walks to you. She takes advantage of your eyes that dart to her chest and grabs you.

“Never, just wanted to check in cause I still need to eat you out.” She says with a wink. Her hands cradle your face as she makes you walk backwards to your shared bathroom.

“I made a promise to my girlfriend and I intend to keep it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm.” Kate nods as she presses a gentle kiss on your lips.

Finally, the both of you are in the bathroom. Loud giggles fill the room along with the sound of the shower as you get undressed. Kate checks if the water temperature is okay before she gets in and offers her hand to you as you step inside. Sighing softly at the water as you wash away your sweat, and worries. It doesn’t take long for Kate to fall on her knees and hike your leg over her shoulder. Her directness has you holding yourself upright against the sage green tiles you have decorating your shower wall.

“Fuck Daddy.”

Her tongue is gentle, licking your throbbing clit. Kate takes everything you offer her. She moans softly at your salty taste that is watered down with the droplets of water that also fall on her face. She takes in the way your finger get tangled in her soaked hair. She takes in the way you can’t seem to hold your moans, forgetting how loud you can get. It isn’t long til Kate adds her fingers. Her pointer and middle finger find their way inside you. Kate is careful to make sure you don’t lose your balance before curling her fingers in a ‘come here’ motion. You let out a high pitched whine when she repeats the motion again and again.

“I’m gonna come again! Oh Kate.”

Kate keeps a steady pace and makes sure to not be too rough knowing you’re sore despite your confident ‘no’ you said earlier. You can’t get over the feeling of her tongue, eyes rolling back as you moan her name over and over. Your hips roll against her face, forcing her tongue to lick over her fingers and her nose bump your clit. The sound that leaves you is pornographic making Kate laugh against your pussy and another voice yell.

“Can you guys hurry up in there?! I have to use the restroom.”

Your gasp is loud but is quickly switched to an even louder moan when you fall apart on your girlfriend’s tongue. Your fingers tug on Kate’s wet hair and she pushes her mouth closer to your pussy.

“Kate, Kate, honey. Who is that?” Your words are rushed as you try and catch your breath, legs are still shaky and you’re pretty sure your eyes are crisscrossed…again.

“Yelena.” She says as if it is obvious. You blink, once then twice and look at your girlfriend who is already rinsing the shampoo off her dark hair.

“What?”

“She was on her way when you were,” she pauses as she reaches for the loofa behind you. “Well you were… you know,” she pauses and then drops her mouth and rolls her eyes back before mimicking you, “Oh yes, Kate. Fuck, Daddy!”

You feel the heat on the your cheeks and grow hotter when you hear a very confused, russian accent outside the bathroom door a second time, “I thought Y/N finished already?”

You’re mortified, but Kate only laughs as she steps out of the shower. Walking out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around her waist, leaving the top part of her body bare.

“Yelena, don’t you know we have a guest bathroom?”

“Don’t you know I can hear her from the hallway?”

thank you all for 5,000 followers! please reblog, comment, and like! - lover

[earl-grey-teacake]

This might not make sense to anyone but this photo makes me want to write a Victorian AU. (Some people had a childhood obsessed with boats, trains, sea animals, the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire, etc. I had the Victorian era.)

Hear me out. This would make a fantastic romantic comedy.

Logan in frilly, lace Victorian era clothes with lace gloves and parasols. Suitors vying for his hand with letters and gifts. Alex is very much “I love Love” and George being “no one is good enough for Logan.”

Lewis is amused “he’s a spitting image of his grandfather (Nico) it’s no wonder he’s popular.” George screaming and throwing the request letters into the fireplace.

Alex is chaperoning Logan and Oscar on their first walk of their courtship. It should be a time for the young couple to get to know each other but it’s really a three-way conversation about why George is there as well.

Oscar: Uhm I might be new to this but I didn’t know both parents would act as chaperones.

Logan: Ignore him. He insisted on coming

Oscar: Does he not trust me? Have I offended him in any way?

Alex: He doesn’t trust any suitor. It’s a miracle we made it to the courting stage. They usually don’t make it past the request letter.

George: They are ill-mannered idiots who do not need to be given the time of day!

Alex: So Oscar, you mentioned horses? Logan loves animals.

I want to write this but I need to finish other stuff before I do.

Let me know what you think or add to it.

[ahappydnp]

being a full adult during ii was so funny

like just sat there while dan and phil worked it out in the remix with the 14 year olds who were yelling at them to kiss

[mariatesstruther]

okay but sarah celebrating tommy every year for mother’s day

[littlefankingdom]

The Batman fandom infantilizing a near 30 years old white man taking in a child, saying he was a brother more than a father as if he wasn't a full grown adult taking in a child he could have birthed, but parentifying a brown young adult taking in his brother pre-teen for less than a year, saying he was a father more than a brother (only a year is barely enough but ok), or saying he was more a father to his other brothers than Bruce, when he met them when he was 18 and 21 is making me uncomfortable, ngl.

Like, Bruce is a "kid" when he became Dick's guardian when he canonically was over 25 (he started being Batman at 25), and a brother to him when he raised him for 10 years (and Dick probably has not many memories from before Bruce now), but Dick is a "father" to Damian he only had as his charge for less than a year, half of which they were fighting each others??? Make it make sense???

[otaku553]

Terrible positions to spend hours scrolling your phone in

[yunamiudon]

Modern AU! Codywan👮‍♂️

I stole this design from my drawing last year lol

↑I drew this AU again...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27588466/chapters/67488583

I haven't decided what Cody does for a living in this fic, but I'm starting to think Detective Cody might be a good idea... 🤔

[sourpeachsayshi]

Is it morally wrong if I ask for cnc/brat tamer 😭

·˚ ��₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: dark content; cnc; brat tamer; spanking roleplaying; sex without protection; rough sex; choso x reader; degradation; humiliation; orgasm denial; aftercare; soft/hard dom choso; praise

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ note: ahh, nonnie! I just want to share this little note and say there is nothing morally wrong with having fantasies like this. fantasies are a safe space for sexual exploration always x

choso grips the fat of your hips and ruts into you from behind, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing around his room. your wanton moans leave your lips in a disruptive pace, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"wait-wait~" you whine, "choso, stop-m'sorry~"

his brows furrow, his cheeks stinging with shame as he thrusts deeper and harder. hitting the right spot that makes you tremble, and forces you to collapse onto your forearms.

"you're not sorry," he grunts, "acting like a spoiled brat in front of everyone, gotta fuck this attitude right out of you..."

"no, no, please~" you sniffle, licking your lips as your eyes flutter in anticipation. "I'l be good, promise..."

you fist the bedsheet and cling to it, a tiny pool of drool forming onto the mattress. stars form in front of your eyes. it feels so good, too good that it nearly snaps you out of the fantasy that you are in. you feel a sharp sting on your rear when he delivers a slap, a broken cry leaving you as you yank the sheet between your fingers.

choso was lost in the heat of lust. he has been from the moment you walked out into the living room, wearing a tiny white see through tank top with your tits out on display for all of his friends to see, and an attitude that only left him embarrassed. yuji was a blushing mess, mahito blatantly making snide comments, yuki touching you far too much for his liking and suguru whispering into choso's ear if everything was alright between you both. none of them knowing that this was something you discussed beforehand.

choso pulls out, his fat, thick cock coated in your slick, standing prominently erect. he flips you over onto your back, and plunges back inside without giving you any warning. he watches your tits bounce with every thrust, his eyes dark is it narrows lower to your abused cunt.

"if you act out, y-you don't get to cum," he scolds, his voice growing deep. his hips stuttering. "you're just going to take it whatever I give you, take how I fill you up-"

you shake your head no, your arms looking for support as you hook them underneath the pillow. "don't cum inside me," you beg, "please, please, please~"

his veins pop on his arms, and across his torso. he groans feeling how tight you are around him, releases a string of curses when he finally reaches his climax and spills his seed inside you.

your thighs are quivering, your body shaking because you did your part. you allowed him to use you as he pleases, but now your lover has to return the favor.

"cho~" you whimper, tears forming in your eyes out of desperation.

he pants as he watches his cum spill from between your lips, takes in the marks he's left on your body. "you did so, so good, baby" he acknowledges sweetly, before repositioning himself so his face is between your thighs.

he kisses the bruising hickeys on your plush skin, makes a path all the way to your throbbing clit that's desperate for attention. "you handle me so well, you make me so proud..."

you bite your bottom lip, sniffling as you look down at him with glossy eyes.

he kisses your clit, "it's okay, sweetheart, I got you..." he breathes, rolling his tongue tenderly over the bud. "just relax and I'll give you exactly what you want."

prompts for this are closed.

[almostyours]

WAITWAITWAIT HOLD UP— KAIA KILLED NARI???? LIKE SHE REALLY ACTUALLY 🔪🔪 i mean go off queen we stan but you can’t just lore dump that in the tags 😱 please expand 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️ and my life will be yours

help,  i laughed when i first read this  😭  i was going to do my usual info dump for u,  but truth be told,  i’ve been working on a piece about this very topic ever since i decided to give the group a little revamp,  so i took this ask as an opportunity to not only dust this piece but also to let u actually read what happened between kaia and nari.  just be mindful of the trigger warnings,  friend!

title.    faith.

characters.    hiiragi  kaia,  narissa  kwon,  yvan  liu,  poppy  kim.

timestamp.   april  29,  2018  @  ███’s  studio.  

word  count.   3937  words.

trigger  warnings.    physical  violence.  emotional  and  physical  abuse.  swearing.  gaslighting/manipulation.  mentions  of  blood  and  bullying.  subtle  mention  of  sexual  harassment. 

“who was it?”

for a moment, silence hung heavy in the air. 

this only annoyed nari more.

“i said,” nari repeated, her voice slower and deliberate, each syllable slicing through the silence. “who was it?”

no one answered.

the studio was filled in a silence so thick it felt suffocating, a tension sharp enough to cut through anyone’s everything— forcing them to consume nari’s presence. because she was the kind of person whose words commanded gravity, pulling and forcing all focus to be on her, leaving no space for distraction or to overthink. 

nari raised an eyebrow as their backs straightened, her patience thinning— either from their silence, or the pressure gnawing at her composure.

she was about to say something, but yvan broke the silence first.  

“what are you talking about?” yvan stammered, slowly standing from their seat. they didn’t notice the way kaia visibly tensed— body rigid, eyes widening ever so slightly as she glanced at yvan from the corner of her eye. yvan, however, was too preoccupied holding nari’s cold gaze, unable to look away.

a small, awkward smile tugged at their lips, an expression that only deepened the unease in the room. nari didn’t say anything. instead, she reached into her pocket to pull out her phone. the deliberate movement made yvan shift uncomfortably. 

“shocking claims surface!” nari read out loud, her voice rising in a way that caused yvan to flinch. kaia, still standing by the music workstation, shifted awkwardly, her posture stiffening as if the words themselves had struck her. 

oh no.

slowly, she turned her head, her gaze finding yvan, an unspoken question lingering in the brown of her eyes.

yvan didn’t meet her eyes. they couldn’t, because how could they? they’d done the one thing she had asked them not to do.

i will handle this, she had said, gently applying pressure where the pain was the worst on yvan’s leg. they only sobbed. don’t do anything you will regret. i will do something about her.

nari continued, “allegations and photos accuse rising star nari kwon—” she paused, jaw tightening as if the words had lodged themselves in her throat. her grip on the phone visibly hardened, knuckles pale against the sleek device. slowly, her eyes lifted from the screen to meet her members. she enunciated the rest of the title slowly, “of abusive behavior.”

pure silence. 

kaia’s heart sank into her stomach as nari tossed the phone in yvan’s direction. the sharp, metallic clatter of the device hitting the floor, paired with yvan’s startled yelp, sliced through kaia like a knife. 

“you don’t know what i’m talking about?” nari repeated, her tone teetering between a dare and feigned innocence. it carried something akin to a sing-song quality, almost mocking in its sweetness— like she was the kindest leader imaginable, someone who would never ever hurt her members in any way, someone they could trust. 

kaia takes a quick look back at yvan, and this time they meet her eyes.

but they couldn’t say a word, couldn’t even convey anything with their shared look, as nari’s sharp yell sliced through the room, demanding their attention once more.

“i’m done—” she yelled, making them both flinch and look back at her. her voice was loud, then it went a bit quieter but still firm. “—repeating myself. who was it?!”

“nari, calm down,” kaia said, voice steady but cautious, breaking her silence for the first time since the leader’s arrival. her heart pounded in her throat as she watched her start walking into the room, allowing the door to close shut behind her. “we can talk once you’re—” kaia hesitated, her words cut short by the sharp intensity of nari’s presence before her.

“give me a damn break.” nari spat, cutting off kaia’s calm tone without hesitation. she closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper— sharp, intimate, and inescapable. 

“i want one of you to open your mouth and tell me the truth.”

kaia blinked, startled, but nari didn’t falter. 

“do you want to sit down and read the article with me?” nari pressed, her voice almost razor-sharp, biting into the silence. “look at the stupid pictures proving nothing?” she gritted her teeth, frustration etched into every syllable, and let out a sharp tsk. 

“trying to destroy our reputation with fabricated lies? before debuting?”

kaia’s breath hitched, and her focus zeroed on a single phrase: fabricated lies. 

she didn’t need to read the article to know its contents. she was certain, beyond a shadow of doubt, that absolutely nothing about it was fabricated. every word, every damning accusation she knew was there— there was no doubt that they were all rooted in truth. 

because ever since kaia had moved to south korea to train alongside nari, she’d seen the truth beneath her polished facade. nari’s demeanor, oh-so sweet and charming to the world, was anything but kind behind closed doors. under the saccharine smile lay a streak of cruelty reserved for those closest to her— for those she deemed weak, useless, and pathetic. 

kaia, however, had long since stopped being fooled by that smile, by her selective respect. she was the one person nari could never deceive. 

she had some nerve lying to her face like that. 

“but why do you think it’s any of us?” kaia’s breath hitched when yvan’s voice broke the silence, drawing nari’s hardened gaze past her to where yvan stood slightly behind. 

nari’s glare made yvan visibly tense, and they stuttered, “w-what about the back up dancers? the stylists? or p-poppy. poppy is also part of us…”

guilt bites at yvan. nari scoffed. 

“that lapdog?” she sneered, sending yvan into a panicked silence while kaia’s jaw tightened. 

“she can’t even think on her own without those meds of hers. hell, she can’t even defend herself!” nari taunted, her voice lilting with a mockery, almost melodic in its cruelty. she started moving toward yvan with deliberate steps, her hands clasped behind her back in a feigned innocence. yvan tried to hold their ground, but their unease was unmistakable— their body shrinking under the weight of nari’s cold gaze. 

kaia blinks. something about nari’s awareness of poppy’s vulnerabilities sparked a warning deep in her mind—- a warning that wasn’t really new, really. 

“she’s also not stupid,” nari added, stopping inches from yvan, who refused to meet her gaze. “and neither is kaia.”

yvan said nothing. 

nari shoved them— hard. 

they stumbled back. 

“it was you, right?”

“i don’t know what—”

“it was you,” nari repeated with a laugh, pushing them again. this time, they hit the ground with a thud. 

kaia’s instinct screamed at her to intervene, but panic, dread, and worry rooted her in place. 

“nari, nari!” yvan scrambled to stand, desperation evident in their voice. tears welled in their eyes as they tried to speak, “it wasn’t—”

“don’t—” nari snapped, and yvan yelped in pain as nari delivered a sharp kick to their side, forcing them back to the ground. kaia just stood there, frozen, watching as nari delivered yet another ruthless kick, her voice venomous as she hissed. “—even bother.” 

suddenly, nari’s tone shifted, adopting the voice of reason, of a calm and rational leader. 

her voice dripped with a chilling hypocrisy as she said, “making excuses, bringing up someone who isn’t even here, lying right to my face— aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

kaia could barely stand to listen. 

the room fell silent for a moment, broken only by yvan’s soft sobs. 

“what? should we throw a pity party for you?” nari asked, her shoe uncomfortably close to yvan’s vision. they flinched, fearing she would aim for their face next. 

“we are in middle of debuting, you imbecile!” she snapped, attempting to kick their face. yvan managed to block it with their arms, trembling as nari ranted. “our reputation is at stake because of the stupidity you just had someone post—”

“i’m sorry!” they cried out, shielding their head.

“stop talking—” her voice was sharp, and before anyone could react, she landed a kick square on yvan’s nose. they cried out, clutching their face as she raised her leg for another strike. “—back. who do you think—”

kaia pushed her. 

of course, that was something nari didn’t see coming. 

the impact sent her stumbling back into the music panel, a loud crash echoing through the studio as some equipment tumbled to the floor. she caught herself against the table, her gaze, confused yet seething, snapping to kaia’s direction, whose hands were still trembling from the push. 

“what the hell was that?” nari’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and disbelieving. 

kaia’s ears rang—panic, worry, anger, fear… all jumbled together. she couldn’t pinpoint which emotion had driven her to act, only that she had. 

because kaia was good. kaia was nice. kaia was calm. 

kaia was the one who never fought back. 

the air was suffocating as nari straightened, her gaze piercing through kaia’s silence. her voice dripped with disdain. “well, maybe you are stupid,” she spat, her eyes narrowing. “what’s your problem?”

kaia blinked, stunned. her lips twitched as if on the verge of laughing at the absurdity of the question. “what’s my problem?” her voice cracked, disbelief laced in every word. 

the door clicked open. 

from the corner of their eyes, they watched poppy step in, her eyes widening as they took in the scene before her once she had pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. slowly, the brunette closed the door behind her, gaze sweeping over the fallen equipment, kaia’s tense figure, and yvan, crumpled on the floor. she said nothing, but the unspoken question hung heavily in the air: what’s happening?

yvan let out a weak, desperate whimper, their breath hitching as the blood rapidly poured from their nose, making it harder to breath. 

poppy rushed to their side, crouching down beside them and trying to help them into a sitting position while wiping the blood from their face with careful, but trembling fingers. her voice was soft, laced with both concern and rising panic. “what happened to you?” 

her touch seemed delicate, and her tone was anxious, but it cracked something deep within kaia’s senses. 

because nari’s presence lingered like a storm, her silent fury simmering in the background, casting a heavy, oppressive silence that loomed over everything and everyone in the room. poppy’s calm gentleness with yvan, in contrast, felt almost out of place. yet, it was the only thing that seemed to reach yvan in that moment. 

kaia takes in a deep breath.

“you’ve been doing this for years,” kaia said, voice steady, but lacking the sweetness she usually carries with her. “and not just to us.”

nari blinked, caught off guard. 

poppy looked up from where she was holding yvan up, no longer guiding them to cough out the blood as her hands completely froze in place. 

“and now you’re surprised someone finally had enough of your bullshit?” her voice wavered, sharp with an anger that burned in her chest. 

her hands trembled, tears pooling in her eyes. not from sadness, but rage. 

pure, unfiltered rage. 

“bullshit?” nari’s lips curled into a bitter smile, scoffing once she’d gotten past the shock of kaia’s words. “you think acting like a leader is bullshit? you think caring about the crap you three mess up is bullshit?” she motioned to her members with a wave of her hand. “you’d all be nothing without me. nothing. if i hadn’t fixed your mistakes—”

“you haven’t done anything,” kaia snapped, voice rising as tears spilled over. “you’ve never done anything but be a bitch—”

before kaia could react, nari pushed her forcefully. kaia stumbled, her balance faltering as the room seemed to spin and tilt around her. 

“i have,” nari said, voice louder to bear her in volume, “and for nothing, it seems. skin hardens over time, my ass,” she laughs bitterly, “because all of you,” she looks back at the other two, and although yvan hid their face in poppy’s shoulder, poppy held her stare, unflinching. 

her tone shifted, sweet yet venomous, dripping with mockery, loud enough for her words to echo in their minds. “you are still as useless as when we were trainees. you are nothing.” 

her gaze snapped back to kaia, locking on with unrelenting intensity. this time, her voice softened to a near whisper, but her words carried an icy weight that sliced deep. 

“and you?” nari’s lips curled into a cruel, mocking smirk. “you’re just a fool playing house everywhere you go. and for what? nothing, because everything you do never happens or lasts. you’re nothing but a joke.”

nari gave kaia a quick look over, a flicker of disdain that taunted her to speak, to retaliate. that glance burned through kaia, igniting something deep within— a sharp pang of disbelief slicing through the anger already churning in her chest. for a moment, she couldn’t speak— couldn’t even think.

and then it hit.

anger surged through her veins, hotter and sharper than she thought possible. her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she trembled with the effort of holding herself back. she blinked hard, her vision blurring as more tears threatened to escape— not from sadness, but from the sheer intensity of her rage. 

because how dare she?

everything kaia had done— personally and professionally— every sleepless night, every sacrifice, every time she had put herself second to make sure this dream stayed alive. she endured ridicule, bruises, and endless doubts, yet she pushed forward because she believed in herself and her members. she believed in their potential, in the spark each of them carried that could ignite something extraordinary if only they worked together. 

kaia had faith— unshakable, relentless faith— that this group could be more than just another fleeting attempt at success. she wasn’t the leader, just a mere sub rapper and lead dancer, but she still tried to hold them together, even when they doubted, even when they wanted to give up. she smiled through her own pain, lifting yvan when they crumbled under pressure and reassuring poppy when her fear clouded her resolve. 

even nari, with her biting words and abusive control, had received kaia’s support. not because she deserved it, but because kaia knew that for their dream to happen, she had to keep the peace, and at the end of the day, nari had a dream just like she did. she endured nari’s cutting remarks, the moments that left her crying in private, because she thought if they could just get through it, they could debut as the group she believed they were meant to be. 

but now? now, it was clear. no matter how much kaia gave, no matter how much she sacrificed, no matter how much they endured her abuse, nari didn’t care. she would keep holding them back, sabotaging any chance they had to shine, all for her own selfish gain. 

there was no place for yvan, poppy or kaia to shine. not under nari’s rule— only shadow and silence. 

nari turned away, simper lingering as kaia stood motionless, trapped in the suffocating silence. “well, it doesn’t matter anymore. vivi said they’ll handle the article,” she said lazily, her tone as casual as if she was discussing the weather. she strolled over to the sound panel, gripping the mouse and clicking idly through the screen with disinterest. 

the repetitive click echoed through the studio, each sound amplifying their emptiness. poppy glanced back at kaia, her expression a mix of both curiosity and concern. kaia’s eyes remained fixed on nari’s back, her face unreadable. 

poppy gulped. she couldn’t help but wonder what was going on inside kaia’s head. she knew all too well about kaia’s battles with self-doubt, her past thick with unfair circumstances and bitter luck. it made poppy worry even more about what this moment might mean for kaia— for all of them. 

“she asked me to take all of you to the meeting room to, y’know, talk about this,” nari said, her voice light and casual but carrying an edge of unease. poppy looked back at nari, who remained turned away, focused on the screen as the rhythmic clicking continued, most likely just saving the progress of whatever kaia and yvan had been working on, acting as if she was completely unfazed by the tension in the room. 

“so, let’s go and—”

kaia didn’t let her finish. 

in a blur of movement, her hand shot out, grabbing the back of nari’s head and slamming her face into the music panel with a sickening crack. 

both poppy and yvan gasped loudly at the scene. yvan scrambled backward, bumping hard into poppy’s shoulder, who instinctively moved with them, eyes wide with shock. 

but their collective gasp was nothing compared to nari’s scream, raw and piercing— at least, until it was muffled by the panel as kaia slammed her down again. and again. and again. 

the sound of nari’s head hitting the panel seemed to reverberate in the studio, freezing both poppy and yvan in stunned silence.

nari’s hands flailed, desperate, clawing for anything to grab onto— anything to stop the assault or defend herself. she managed a weak, choked cry for help, but kaia was relentless, her movements sharp, calculated, and quick. 

the panel rattled with each impact, a brutal rhythm of anger. 

by the time nari’s screams faded into weak, incoherent sounds, her world started to blur and fade to white. her vision started swimming, and every taken breath felt heavier, each heartbeat distant and sluggish, until all that remained was a faint, fading echo of her reality.

that’s when kaia paused her actions, yanking nari’s head back with a tight grip on her hair. she glanced at the blood smeared across the panel, messy and vivid, before tossing nari to the ground like a discarded ragdoll. a weak, pitiful whine escaped the woman kaia had just brutalized, barely audible over the heavy silence that followed. 

yvan cried out when nari’s body crumpled limply in front of them, retreating further into poppy, who instinctively wrapped their arms around them. poppy’s eyes were wide, her expression a mix of both shock and horror, yet it wasn’t the blood or nari’s broken form that rendered her speechless. 

it was kaia— tha blank stare in her eyes, devoid of any warmth or hesitation, that froze her in place. 

because kaia was good. kaia was nice. kaia was calm. 

kaia had faith. 

but kaia didn’t even glance at them. her gaze remained locked on the crumpled figure before her, a fragile and broken thing now barely clinging to any lasting strength. nari struggled, her body betraying her attempts to rise, only to collapse back onto the cold ground. her face— swollen and grotesque, a canvas smeared with blood and bruises— was unrecognizable. she wasn’t narissa kwon anymore. 

she was nothing. 

and in that nothingness, kaia saw a reflection of everything nari had become: a hollow, festering voice that thrived on greed, abuse and ridicule. it wasn’t just emptiness; it was a consuming force that had sabotaged their efforts, stifled their dreams, and mocked every sacrifice made along the way. it was the same nothingness that threatened to poison their potential, to strip away everything they had worked for until it all meant nothing. 

the sight sent a cold shiver through kaia— not from guilt, but from the quiet, unshakable certainty that she could no longer allow nari to hold them back. 

“k-kaia…” nari’s voice came weak and trembling, a glimpse of fear cracking through her voice. this time, she managed to push herself off the ground just the slightest, her movements slow and faltering as she tried to sit upright. 

kaia answered with a kick to her face, sending her back down with a thud. then, without a second thought, kaia dropped to her knees, fists slamming into nari’s bloodied face in a frenzied, relentless surge of fury. 

yvan covered their bloodied mouth, eyes wide with shock and fear, while poppy sat frozen, her entire body trembling, unable to look away. the sound of each punch reverberated through the silent studio, but poppy could only watch, her heart pounding against her ribcage, her mind unable to comprehend what was happening before her. 

each punch landed with a visceral satisfaction, fire coursing through kaia’s veins with every strike. each blow was a reckoning, a release of years spent enduring nari’s cruel control. for all those times kaia had been mocked and humiliated, her dreams weaponized against her because nari saw her as nothing more than a toy to play with. 

for all those countless nights kaia had held yvan as they cried, nari’s cutting words and manipulations tearing away at their confidence, leaving them dimmed when their light had once shined the brightest. 

for all those times kaia had seen nari’s hands linger a little bit too long on poppy’s skin, her words dripping with twisted intent, turning a strong-willed woman into someone trapped in fear, reduced to a fragile doll— played with and discarded without care, waiting for the day nari would repeat the cycle. 

and as kaia’s fists continued to fall, the anger deepened— not just for herself, but for the potential nari had trampled underfoot, the possibilities she had stifled with her poison. nari had taken so much, stolen so much, dragging them all into a shadow where they would be kept away. kaia’s chest heaved with every strike, the weight of years of frustration and helplessness lifting, punch by punch. she wanted her gone— they needed her gone. everything would be better once nari was out of their lives, once the weight of her abuse and manipulation no longer held them down. 

this was the first step toward breaking free— toward a future where they could finally find peace. 

she had faith that this was the only way.

poppy cried out her name, but kaia didn’t hear it. not the first time. not the second. not the third.

but the fourth time, poppy’s cry broke the trance, making her gasp. 

slim arms successfully wrapped around her ribcage, pulling her away from the broken, bloodied figure beneath her. 

poppy’s warmth behind her felt like home, grounding kaia back to reality. and for a moment, she had been lost—lost in the chaos of her own rage, consumed by the weight of everything she had endured and fought against. 

but now, clarity starts to seep through her senses, piece by piece. 

she stared at nari, lifeless and unrecognizable, her body crumpled on the bloodied ground. this wasn’t someone kaia could recognize anymore— this was a hollow, broken thing. 

the person who had once towered over them, wielding cruelty, mockery and control, was now a hollow, broken figure. the image of nari had become something foreign, a reflection of the void kaia had tried to hold together for far too long. 

because kaia was good. kaia was nice. kaia was calm. 

kaia had faith in them. 

poppy’s jagged breaths pressed against her ears as she held onto kaia tightly, but kaia didn’t respond, didn’t move. her bloodied and bruised knuckles, once delicate and soft, now felt foreign— scarred by the weight of her own rage. yvan’s cries echoed through the silence, but kaia remained still, staring down at the nothingness before her. 

kaia takes a slow, steady breath. 

“bring vivi.” she said quietly, words barely above a whisper but heavy with the weight of everything that was about to change. 

[kissingarthurclaus]

Good morning everypony 💖💖 (or afternoon where I am I guess) I love Arthur very very much 🥺🥺🥺

[itstheheebiejeebies]

For Week 6 of HBO WWII Rewatch Promts: Replacement

if you have a request or want to be tagged for any of my edits send me an ask. don’t repost, reblogs appreciated. all of my edits can be found here

My Ko-fi is here  and my Redbubble is here if you’re interested in supporting me and my creations

Taglist: @gottapenny @georgeluzwarmhugs @dontmissshifty @mygoddamnsizzuhs @whovian45810 @nixoninc @msmercury84 @fromcrossroadstoking @inglourious-imagines @easynix @alienoresimagines @sammy-1998 @blenalela @punkgeekcryptid @wexhappyxfew @lovingunderratedcharacters @a-beautiful-struggle-of-life​ @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @vintagelavenderskies @mavysnavy @angels-fall2 @snafus-peckuh @alejodi0nysus @sydney-m @shadowsandmoonlight @mrseasycompany @gutsandgloryhere @ourmiraclealigner @johnny-martin-is-mypeanut @tvserie-s-world @serasvictoria @alyxzanderthebored @sergeant-spoons @labarboteuse @mysticaldeanvoidhorse @i-dont-like-bullies @silverspeirs @satan-incarnate-666 @footprintsinthesxnd @hopefuldreamers-world @executethyself35

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

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. ❤️

[birinboom]

Bakugou's Hands Are His Weapon

Pro hero Bakugou x reader New relationship, fluff 💌 350 words

Bakugou just started dating you; a civilian and his first romantic partner. He’s so worried about holding your hand, worried about any form of touch. His hands are his weapons. It’s one thing to accept a hand proffered by another hero, they know him, they know what kind of destruction he’s capable of. But you? You only know what you’ve seen on the news. You’ve never been on the receiving end of his quirk; whether through training or actual battle. You don’t know what it’s like. And Bakugou never wants you to find out.

It’s nerve wracking for him in the beginning. It’s the sole thing he’s not instantly good at. And the nerves make his palms sweaty which only makes everything worse. His hands are his weapon. His sweat is his ammunition. And he doesn’t want to hurt you. You try to grab his hand and he instantly pulls away, mumbling a stupid excuse as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets. Or hides them behind his back. Anything to keep them away from you. Anything to keep you out of harm’s way.

It takes you blaming yourself for him to come clean. He hates hearing you wonder out loud if you’ve done something wrong, if he finds you unattractive since he never wants to touch you. And finally he decides that this has to end. If nothing else, you need to know the reason so you can decide whether you still want to be with him. So he tells you about how scared concerned he is about hurting you. 

And he defaults to anger when you laugh at him. But it dies down instantly when you point out that he’s a pro hero, if any group of people have mastered their quirks, it’s pro heroes. Especially him. So you’re not particularly worried. And Bakugou feels like an idiot for agonizing about it in the first place. 

It still takes him months to fully trust that he’s able to control his quirk around you. But it’s a start. And he loves seeing how happy his touch makes you.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks (on and off anon) are always greatly appreciated! If you like what you’ve read, please check out my other works. Love, Em 💖

Do not repost, redistribute, copy, modify, record, translate, or plagiarize my writing. If you see someone posting my writing claiming it as their own, or posting a narration of my writing, please let me know!