#midnight tragedy my love

[mascotheres]

I love Midnight Tragedy and Moonflower

[razztazzel]

Themm… AAUGGHAAHJ

I love Razzle being sassy I need more sassy mean Razzle even though he’s probably the happiest nicest supportive guy alive

[waterfrontcomplex]

love-struck

[withthewindinherfootsteps]

Wei Wuxian and Narrative Agency – Part One

For Xiantober Day One: Genius… albeit stretching the prompt so it refers to MXTX and MDZS itself, but at the end of the day it’s still about WWX – so no harm done!

(Part Two | Part Three | Full version on AO3)

The narrative is a very active player in MDZS’ story. How it presents information, what it chooses to show and omit, often reflects important facets of its themes and characters – Nie Huaisang, for instance, is so good at hiding behind his mask that not even the narrative can hold him accountable; the present day’s storyline as a murder mystery and the slow reveal of information about the past both prompt the reader to think critically about the truth of events, when the importance of thinking critically is an important theme; and the dangers not thinking critically (and instead basing conclusions on rumours without much evidence) are shown by tricking unquestioning readers into the very same trap the cultivation world falls into, as the information given by the title, summary and in-universe rumours – which contradicts how we see actually Wei Wuxian act – turns out to be false.

But nowhere do I love this trait more than in its treatment of Wei Wuxian – and, more specifically, in its way of emphasising his agency. We’re not just told how much his active choices define his character, and we’re not just shown this in-universe through his personality, worldview and the events he causes. I’d argue that this aspect goes a step further, and shapes the structure of the out-of-universe narrative as well.

There are two main ways this happens: one, in how the aspects of Wei Wuxian’s life that are shown and hidden directly tell us what’s important about his character (which is good writing but isn’t necessarily tied to this shaping of the narrative), which is what we’ll explore today; and two, how what’s shown and hidden reflects what Wei Wuxian himself prefers to dwell on, resulting in the narrative respecting his own thoughts and feelings on matters (which very much is tied to it). We’ll explore this at a later date.

But as for now – let’s explore my favourite aspect of MDZS.

(Here, narrative agency will be considered the ability of a character to meaningfully influence their events and the story they’re in.)

Tragedy, Circumstance, Choice

If we simply look at Wei Wuxian’s backstory in a vacuum, it seems almost typically tragic. His  parents died in circumstances beyond his control, he was left alone as a child with nobody to care for him, he was forced to grow up fending for himself on the streets, he was faced with abuse when he finally was taken in… as with all typical woobies, everything simply happened to him, and none of it was good. It’s just another example of the lack of agency being used for sympathy points, right?

…Except there’s one problem with that idea. We don’t actually see any of this.

It would’ve been easy to start the flashbacks during these times. We’re telling the story of Wei Wuxian in (largely) chronological order, and these are likely important experiences for him! But instead of starting in his street days, or evenat the moment Jiang Fengmian took him in*, we start at the lectures in the Cloud Recesses. That’s not even something mentioned in, and therefore something that’s able to disprove, the rumours at the start of the novel. So why is this the case? 

Well, there are multiple reasons – the main one being that MDZS is also Lan Wangji’s (and Wangxian’s) story, and having the flashbacks open with their first meeting is very satisfying. But I want to focus on something else.

This period doesn’t have to be shown, because what happens to Wei Wuxian, especially out of his control, isn’t what’s important about his character.

We’re not even at Lotus Pier here, where Wei Wuxian certainly has more agency than he would’ve had as a young child, but where the harm caused by Madame Yu is still completely out of his control. Here, he has agency! Though there are consequences, he is free to act, and what happens to him is a result of those actions and not of circumstance. Yes, he gets punished more than others who also take those same actions (due to classism); yes, it’s not his choice to be picked on by Lan Qiren in class (yet look how he responds, twisting the situation to his advantage and ending up tricking Lan Qiren into letting him leave, which is what he wanted to do. He is not at all helpless here!); yes, these choices have been influenced by his learned mindset from Madame Yu that punishment is arbitrary and will happen anyway, so you may as well do what you want regardless. But there is cause-and-effect here. It’s not circumstantial tragedy.

Therefore, instead of our first impression of past!Wei Wuxian being that of an unfortunate woobie, it’s of someone who has the freedom, ability and will to choose and act (and that’s after these initial tragic events have taken place). This is compounded by the fact that before we see any of his backstory, we get a similar impression of him in the present day.

If the purpose of his tragic past was to earn him sympathy points, to make us pity him due to how much he was influenced by events out of his control, this would’ve been a terrible way of going about it… and it’s this that betrays the true reason for its existence. Because now, the flashbacks instead show us how little these tragedies define who he is! From the very start, Wei Wuxian isn’t someone defined by circumstances out of his control, but rather by who he is as a person and by what choices he makes in the present day (which is both a mindset in-universe, and a nice little out-of-universe detail that lines up! Because out-of-universe, this means he’s not defined by sympathy points from a backstory, but rather by his great character writing… aka, by who he is as a person and what choices he makes). And this refusal to be defined by tragedy is a conscious choice on his part, too – but we’ll explore that more later. 

The important thing is that this idea of Wei Wuxian isn’t because of what exists in his past, it’s because of what parts of his past are shown to us (as well as what he chooses to do, with agency, in the present). 

Now, if this relationship between what’s displayed and what’s omitted was just a one-time thing, I might’ve considered it a cool detail or a nice way to establish a character, but not something the narrative is actively focusing on. But it’s a pattern that continues throughout the flashbacks. What, arguably, are the two other most important times in Wei Wuxian’s life where he doesn’t have enough agency to meaningfully influence his circumstances? His three months in the Burial Mounds (before escaping – he managed to assume some control of the circumstances but not enough to substantially reduce his suffering in his time there), and his loss and death during the First Siege. And we’re not shown either of them! We skip to when Wei Wuxian has emerged from the Burial Mounds and is torturing the Wens, or we skip to the present day – both times he has agency once more, because, again, what he’s like without it doesn’t matter enough to be shown. 

Furthermore, I’d argue this does actually contrast the other tragic events we see in Wei Wuxian’s later life. Things do go horribly wrong, but it’s either due to choices he knows the consequences of (see: rescuing the Wen Remnants in the first place), or instances where he still has some ability to act in the situation and influence it within the limitations. If he’d had no ability to influence circumstances at Qiongqi path, he would have died in the ambush; if he’d been unable to do that at Nightless City, he would’ve died then, too (of course Lan Wangji helped him escape as well). The attention drawn to him losing control of his actions in both instances is very interesting, but intentional or not, it’s still his actions influencing the plot. And that influence happens to be detrimental. The very ability to act and influence, at a base level,  is not taken away (though, of course, that doesn’t make these events any less tragic).

So, so far, the narrative seems to be telling us that the ability to act and choose is key to Wei Wuxian’s character. And it’s doing it through omitting his moments without agency in favour of instead showing us his moments with it. 

Let’s see if this is echoed in the text itself before we go further – because even with this pattern, nothing would end up mattering if Wei Wuxian’s agency wasn’t actually that important to the story itself. But thankfully it is, and that first impression we get of Wei Wuxian in the Cloud Recesses turns out to very much be accurate! Though there are defining circumstances out of his control that occur, such as the massacre of Lotus Pier, the majority of the important events of his life are due to his own choices. He didn’t happen to be forced to cease traditional cultivation and solely use guidao, didn’t happen to lose his Golden Core in a fight with Wen Zhuliu or due to some force in the Burial Mounds, it was his own choice to give it and his spiritual powers away. He didn’t tragically happen to get targeted by the cultivation world, it was a result of him acting on his morals and protecting the Wen remnants (a choice which he was fully aware of the implications of). He isn’t a protagonist to whom things simply occur, and that activeness and agency is my favourite thing about him. 

That’s not to say that the times Wei Wuxian doesn’t have agency, or feels like he doesn’t have any, don’t exist at all, either – but they are rare enough to have attention directly drawn to them in his internal narration:

Or else what could he do? He could do nothing. He was powerless. Lotus Pier had been destroyed, both Jiang FengMian and Madam Yu were gone, and Jiang Cheng had disappeared as well. He was the only one left, alone, with not even a sword in his hands. He didn’t know anything, he couldn’t do anything! For the first time, he discovered how little his power was. In front of something as large as the QishanWen Sect, it was the same as a mantis trying to stop a chariot. - Chapter 59, EXR translation

(And even in this circumstance, note that he still does force himself to act – to carry on searching for Jiang Cheng, to place his faith in Wen Ning – and does accomplish his goal (albeit with the help of others)! So even in dire situations, he isn’t simply passive. This is actually also the case with his time in the Burial Mounds, almost certainly the First Siege, and even his days on the streets as well (Chapter 20: he did actively fight with dogs to get food despite their danger and his growing fear of them, rather than just waiting and hoping to somehow receive some more). He can’t influence or immediately influence his circumstances, but that doesn’t stop him from trying.)

Overall, although they do influence him, Wei Wuxian is very much who he is in spite of his circumstances, not because of them. We’re shown the importance of his agency both in-universe by the major impacts his choices have on himself and the plot, as well as by narrative presentation – important periods where he lacks the ability to meaningfully influence anything are often mentioned but not directly shown, which suggests that such moments and circumstances aren’t as important to understanding Wei Wuxian’s character as moments where he does have this agency are. And I’d argue this works very well. Depending on the version of the story you consume, you may end up having different interpretations as to how much circumstances were at play nearer the end of his life – but nobody comes out of MDZS thinking about Wei Wuxian, the poor bearer of yet another generically tragic backstory.

(Part Two | Part Three | Full version on AO3)

—

*We are shown this moment in more detail in Chapter 23… but even then, it’s through the framing of Wei Wuxian remembering Jiang Yanli’s narration, not through a flashback proper or even him remembering the experience itself!

[jahanmp4]

Jericho : "Sir Marius, I mean this in the most respectful and polite way possible, but you already got one curse. Perhaps... Let us... Bear some curses so you don't have to, that's the point of friends !"

Marius, yelling : " I CAN BEAR MORE !"

Jericho "Why don't... you let your friends shoulder a little bit of your burden ? Let the world do its own spin !"

[ifyougoillfollow]

you know, we talk a lot about characters and/or relationships (of all kinds) being 'doomed by the narrative' around here, and how haunting and gut-wrenching that can be, especially when it so often takes the form of death and destruction and tragedy.

and we should keep doing that, obviously. death and destruction and tragedy kick total ass.

however. can we please spare a thought for the clowns trapped in that same (burning) room?

after all, what is a comic relief character if not doomed by the narrative to always act like a buffoon despite any and all circumstances, all for the sake of relieving narrative tension?

how must it feel, to have everyone around you dropping dead, losing limbs, losing loved ones, and otherwise being on the receiving end of unending torment - and all you can do is stand there and prattle off another zinger at your allotted time?

and what if you lose a loved one yourself, o jester mine? what if - hear me out - you lose multiple loved ones? what if it never ends? what will you do then?

well, if you're lucky, you'll get to mourn for all five of the seconds you're allowed to before the size thirty shoes go back on and the narrative moves on to other, more plot-central characters.

if you're not - well. it's a good thing clown makeup is waterproof, isn't it?

anyway, shout out to all my comedy kings out there doomed to play perpetual funnyman to their more plot-central counterparts despite being in undeniably comparable pain. you may be doomed by the narrative, but you are beloved by me <3

[doomdoomofdoom]

god fucking damn you mike flanagan and your profound horror series making me feel things about life and love

[midnightshade]

“I think there are people that help you become the person that you end up being, and you can be grateful for them even if they were never meant to be in your life forever.”

[hot-cherri]

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

what if it was a real onion growing out of her head 🤔

bonus: an iku based off red onions b/c those are the only ones i personally eat lmfao

[chibishortdeath]

I redrew something from 2022 :3! Yippie, now you guys get to see the old one and the new one next to each other heck yeah.

I’m gonna rant like absolutely bonkers length about Simon’s Quest and the endings and story under a cut for anyone interested:

The original version (the last image) had this like long rant about how I see the endings of the game, but it wasn’t as comprehensive cause I was still kinda new to things and well instagram character limit lol.

The endings of the game are a really really cool topic to me because of how ominous and vague they all are. They’re all left pretty open! But I’ve always gotten some sinking dread even when getting the fastest “red sky” ending. The game really sets up the ending with a lot of empty areas and suspense beforehand, especially with the still present but now more pressing clock still ticking ya know, and the final battle is kinda just there, but it ends off all this tense build up with

A eulogy. One definitely written for Simon too. In every ending.

The first ending (grey sky) is really vague, just a general statement that “Simon you will always be remembered for your bravery and courage” and that “Peace and serenity have been restored to Transylvania and the people are free of Dracula’s curse”. Which is really odd for what would be assumed to be a “bad ending”. This generally sounds like a pretty good outcome and it’s primarily the same in the Japanese version just slightly worded differently. Heck, it’s not even stated in the text outright if he died. But the visuals, oh man. Dreary greyscale and Simon doesn’t even appear on screen in front of Dracula’s grave. Did Dracula even get reburried? It’s some really bleak imagery compared to the otherwise pretty unsuspecting text.

And second ending (blue sky) is very interesting. Simon appears on screen with some nice bright generally cheery colors, but the text deliberately mentions his death in both versions. The English version however says something the Japanese version doesn’t: it says the curse wasn’t broken. The original text says “until a young man to fight against evils like him comes again to this world, Transylvanians will keep praying forever.” Which I guess you could assume means that something went wrong and the curse still exists, but it could also be taken as a general “there’s no cool badass vampire hunter guy to kill any other general threats, so we hope another one comes along”. So, again, it’s so extremely vague.

So far the first and the second don’t really have all that much different as far as implications go: Simon beat Dracula but he died.

So what about the third ending (red sky)? Would it shock you if I said there’s not much difference from the text of the first ending? It’s essentially just another eulogy text with nice things to say about him. It says “Simmon Belmont put an eternal period to the legend of Dracula” (yes the Japanese version says Simmon lol it happens), which is something we know isn’t true because well more games got made later. Also because Dracula’s hand pops out of the ground afterwards! Which is hard to say the meaning of, is it just a teaser like “to be continued” or is it actually meaning that Dracula wasn’t put down properly and will be back really soon? Because that still is in line with things since yeah Drac did kinda sorta come back early in Harmony of Dissonance. Anyway— But it’s just another way of saying “he killed Dracula” and probably “he ended the curse”. The last section is just “his blood and sweat have penetrated into the ground of Transylvania and will bring us full-blown flowers with happiness in next spring”. Which is, again, just a really pretty, poetic way of saying “we’re never gonna forget this guy”. And again, this ending never outright says if he lives or dies!

Which is so!!!!! Weird!!!!!!!!!!! Why have multiple endings in a game if they’re all so vague that they’re almost completely interchangeable and can all be argued to be the ending of the game? You could genuinely make an argument for each of the endings being the canon ending and it would affect essentially nothing. They’re so vague to the point that a lot of people assume that they were mixed up at some point in development, which I find unlikely coming from the dev team of the guy said to want his games to be a cinematic experience. But it’s so strange! Why!?!?!

But I think that this vagueness and sense of idk how to put it— um ya know when something builds something up to get you all excited and convinced it’ll go one way and then it pulls the rug out from under you? Like when it’s set up to where it feels like the protagonist is finally going to get something and then it just doesn’t happen completely unceremoniously? Like a hope crushing twist?

Idk what I mean is, to me, it feels completely intentional. It feels to me like the game is just ramping up the tension and the suspense and the dread just to cut it off with vague, bittersweet endings that just seem to imply sad things and don’t sit right. It’s like as if the game wants you to get the first ending, see that it’s really gloomy, try to figure out the game more and get the second ending, see that that one outright says he’s dead, then try to get something better only to run into another awkward seemingly negative ending and a realization that you can’t do anything about it.

And I was thinking about this again a bit ago and realized that it really fits with the rest of Simon’s story. Simon kinda has this general “hero goes to save the day” plot in the first one with some slight mention of Christopher before him and the fact that this is a clan and a repeating 100 year Dracula cycle right? But things go wrong and he gets cursed and presumably either struggles to figure out what to do or just puts it off for like 6 ish years. Add the general vibes of “will I ever be as good as my ancestors?” and repeating themes of being alone and then compare that with Dracula’s Curse that comes out not long later and this game is suddenly the most “power of friendship” “seeing the good in people” “together we can overcome this” kind of story in the whole series and it hit me: Simon feels like a subversion of the lone hero trope. Like this super uplifting, unlikely band of heroes story coming out right after the solitude if it were personified as a 1600s vampire hunter story feels so so so so important to me. And then The Adventure and Belmont’s Revenge come out and what are they about? Christopher goes into the castle alone and something goes wrong! And I’ve noticed how other Belmonts and protagonists in later games get companions or friends or helpers or somebody else, and oh boy does that make how alone Simon is that much more noticeable.

It just all comes together in a messed up way. I really feel like Simon dies in all of these endings. And I didn’t even get into weird symbolism discussion lol—

And maybe this is just me looking too hard into an old game from a modern used to stories in games being detailed perspective, but idk man, I love the Simon’s Quest because it never fails to baffle me. Honestly so much of Simon’s Quest genuinely haunts me (affectionate), like I’ll just be sitting around and think of another possible answer to something and it’ll end up just as vague and full of holes as any other speculation, it’s wild. This game will have you sitting around looking for answers only to consistently run into dead ends with sad or nonexistent implications. I hope any of this makes sense, this game drives me insane I love it debating replaying and overthinking it again hmmmmmmm—

[ruminate88]

After I got away from Andrew and got married, I found it beyond difficult not to have intrusive or sexual thoughts about him. It made NO sense at the time. I was trying to hold it in and act natural with my new husband like, honeymoon is over. I’ve blocked Andrew’s number. I’m not even googling Andrew and yet he’s alllllll I freakin think about and when I try to focus on my husband and build this relationship with him, it’s nothing but Andrew on the brain. 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Quickly I’m disconnected and think it’s my husband. I think he’s pushed me away but he accuses me of pushing HIM away. 🧐 Oh wow. I knew my husband had to threaten Andrew to leave me alone and he said Andrew looked like he was about to cry 😳😳 what does that even mean?? Why would Andrew cry??? After a summer of gaslighting me and hurting me beyond words. Consistently breaking my heart…. Why should HE cry? I was the one crying and shaking so hard he totally crushed me to pieces 💔💔

NOW it’s covid and when Florida stayed open, a lot of us took a trip there. I’m in this condo on the beach with my husband, some family and friends, and I’m getting dressed for dinner and as I’m looking in the mirror, fixing my hair, that was the first time my eyes opened and I saw that I was getting bald in one spot!’ HOW did I not see it before? I’ve looked back at older pictures. I was already going bald before Covid but my hair lady said Covid was stressing everybody out and making people lose hair, but I believe I was already losing hair because stress over Andrew and Cody.

I ran to my husband though and yelled out “ I’m losing hair!!!! Oh my gosh am I sick? Something wrong with me?” The whole time feeling disconnected and I can’t stop fantasizing about Andrew in the back of my head and I just can’t make sense of anything in my life. I’m trying to move on and be a good wife and I’m just frustrated because my husband is there and I can’t even hardly feel him or connect with him the way that I want to…. like, I’m I’m literally forcing it so hard ….

my husband also took me on my dream vacation because we saved so much money during Covid getting those two checks in the mail from the government and it was my dream vacation 😮😮😮 so I should’ve been the happiest person in the world and I wanted to be so badly and I wanted to be happy and I wanted to love and enjoy my husband but still, I feel very disconnected and I feel like he is not letting me connect to him, but it’s not him. He’s literally taking me on my fave vacation. He spent his hard-working money to give me that and I tried to be so grateful and I tried to make it a fun time , but deep inside of me I’m feeling so bad I can’t explain why !!! 😳😩

The first video I ever saw about emotional abuse, wow, I was able to ruminate and I was able to recall everything that happened with Andrew that I guess I was trying to ignore or I just couldn’t remember it. I don’t know still some things that I can’t remember conversations I had are still fuzzy cuz they were hurtful conversations!!! times when I’m begging him to pay me attention and he’s promising me that he wants to be with me but he’s just “busy with school” he keeps abandoning me, ignoring me, I so feel bad and he’s making me feel stressed out because he says that he’s so stressed out with school …. And some how he takes it out on me. “I’m not helping”. He keeps saying I’m making it all worse when I all I wanted was to love him so much….

The more that I learn about emotional abuse, the more it hurts my feelings and upsets me. And I think that’s why I feel so “indifferent“ these days. I mean, can’t change the past, I forgive my exes. I don’t want anything from them and I don’t want them to pay or owe me anything but they still keep hurting my feelings just thinking about them constantly and I just don’t understand it but I know it happens to people. I know that it’s life, trauma and I feel awful for them, but I feel awful for myself too. I’m trying NOT to beat myself up, but I always do. I always feel guilty when I talk about them because it makes me feel like I’m not getting over them or giving them grace , I want a peaceful life and I feel like my life is way more calm than it ever was but also feeling indifferent. Makes me feel like eh, just wanna sit here and chill and be left alone. No one bother me please please just no one bother me. I don’t wanna upset anyone else.

I can’t get comfortable enough to talk to my husband about everything going on inside of me, but I don’t want him to be upset or stressed. I just want him to calm down and just let it be!!!! he stresses over our money and that makes me feel bad because it makes me think of how Andrew was so stressed and nothing I did or said made him happy or made him wanna treat me good OR make him love me back. Andrew was always going to hurt me and abuse me, no matter what! that’s why I had to block his number without even knowing it was abuse back then, I knew that he was mistreating me. And I am beyond an apology from him now, I’m not expecting him to come and apologize… I wouldn’t even believe it if he did, I don’t know how to make it all better. I know it’s all over and in the past and I know by keeping Andrew‘s number blocked that he can’t continue to bother me so much, but he still does bother me in the back of my mind because I always think of his face and I wanna see his face so bad in real life. The moment I walk out of my house, I’m searching for him and I don’t know why because I don’t have anything to say to his face without falling apart! 🫣🫣❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

IF Andrew was standing before me right now. I would be a total mess and I would probably fall on my face and just sob…. I don’t hate him but I know he can never love me back so I feel like loving him IS for nothing and that sucks.

[thedeadthree]

amavet and s*hadowheart mirroring each other how he wishes he could forget his losses and she forgot hers the wanting to forget vs wanting to remember oh my god oh my god

[magenta-somethings]

guess who finally read #100 of superboy (1994)

[fantasticalleigh]

crying over midnight mass again nbd just another day

i wrote this fucking essay out in the tags and i'm too tired to retype it all so i'm dumping it here:

i'm literally that seinfeld meme rn with jerry and george

'you're crying over a movie?'

'alright. the traumatic religious themes and the powerful acceptance of death and forgiveness and the corruption of faith got to me'

the story of a man damning the people he was trying to save got to me

the story of a man so haunted and worn down by his own past and future that he chose death in spite of eternal life got to me

and there's so much more T-T

'remember you are dust and to dust you shall return' and i'm sitting here sobbing

ngl the first time i ever watched it i was so hyped bc i was already a big fan of the haunting of hill house

and on the first episode it was so tonally different and when i saw it was HEAVILY revolving around religion i almost noped out

glad i didn't tho bc imo it's a masterpiece

the ending scene...the hymn...the final line...gorgeous

[musamora]

𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖉 「𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔦𝔣𝔢𝔯」 ೀ⋆｡˚

content. f!reader. discussions of separation/divorce, friends to lovers, (name) is a fallen angel, sexual harassment, insecurities, discussions of mental health, spoilers for hazbin hotel season finale, implied/referenced not-safe for work. not proofread. 3.3k+ words.

author's note. i'm not sure if i'll be making a valentine's day post, but i haven't updated in a while, and i wanted to post something. so here's another hazbin hotel oneshot that's been in my drafts for a while! (sorry to all my bsd readers, i will be posting content soon!) i hope you guys enjoy ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

would you like to see more? fill out the taglist or comment under this post.

synopsis. two fallen ones, cut from the same cloth, destinies forever intertwined by the choices you made as young seraphim.

OR someone comes in to try and ruin your relationship with lucifer, and he isn't happy about it.

You remembered the sensation of an eternal inferno, the mark of damnation that scorched your fingertips, submerging your divine being within a cluster of flames. Exiled from the heavens—a fate worse than death to most became an accepted element of your newfound reality. You never belonged perched atop clouds, even with the virtue nestled in the recesses of your heart. A part of you feared the unknown as you descended through novas and clouds, but it felt like a pressure had lifted from your being as those imposing gates shrunk behind you.

As the first of a cluster of falling stars, your impact landed you on the steaming ground of a new, hellish landscape, your mind scattered from the force of the fall, limbs trembling with their aching joints. And that was when you saw him, a brand-new man who held out his hand, smile desperate yet reassuring. The Morning Star himself, brought upon the same fate, still shaken from the tragedy of his descent—it had been much more personal for him.

“It’ll be okay, (Name),” his familiar voice reassured, but it was impossible not to hear the waver in his tone as your hands intertwined. “It’ll all be okay.”

And with a single touch, traversing hand-in-hand through this foreign land, you knew that someday, he would be right.

But that happened many millennia ago, a tale for storybooks rather than a memory that should’ve constantly been on a loop in your mind, held onto during the dead of lonely, bitter nights. Despite your long-standing friendship, the both of you held very separate lives—him with his family, you with your industry. You worked in tandem in relation to the public and aristocratic duties but otherwise barely spoke past the occasional smile and wave. And no, you couldn’t help the desolation that had sprouted inside your heart, the muscle aching as you observed his radiant smile from across ballrooms, the king exchanging affectionate glances at his wife while coddling his sweet daughter. But you were happy for him all the same. He deserved to be surrounded by those he loved, deserved to be happy after years of heartbreak, even if you weren’t in the picture.

But you knew that you could depend on each other, even if you hadn’t spoken in months. It was an unspoken connection between you, a rule unbroken. Which was the reason you knew his midnight call one evening had been serious. His voice was flooded with anguish, sputtering out incomprehensible words as his breath caught with every beat. You dropped everything, the paperwork and meeting planning, flying over with speed so fast that the denizens of Hell whispered for days about the shooting star that had flown across the sky that evening. 

In your journey, there was one persistent question that kept bothering you—why wasn’t his wife the one to comfort him? It wasn’t that you minded, not at all, but the entire situation struck you as odd. However, your answer became clear as you cracked open the doors to his bed chambers; the room was frozen and still as if left abandoned. However, the knocked-over furniture and smashed artifacts only made it look like it was robbed, which you highly doubted. And there in the center of the chaos was the Morning Star himself—no, Lucifer. Simply Lucifer. His body crumpled to the ground, painful hiccups leaving his lips. You slipped inside with ease and were about to grab his attention, and then you spotted it, the large lettering of a familiar type of document—a divorce agreement.

You were aware that the relationship between Lucifer and Lilith wasn’t perfect, not by any means. When they had fallen in love, there wasn’t a guideline for navigating relationships and marriage. They had to play it entirely by ear, leading to rushed decisions and a shaky foundation. You had always believed that they were each other’s perfect half, but it was only because their punishment and subsequent banishment had tied them together and forced them to suffer the same fate. At least, that was their belief for a couple of millennia. It didn’t mean that the split that was bound to happen didn’t hurt.

His cries had been hard to hear, throaty and painful, his body trembling as he mourned on the floor. It took a culmination of your mental and physical strength to unravel him, forcing him away from those papers and into an embrace, slowly steadying his breath with yours as he clung to you as if you would leave if he let go. That night set the standard for weeks of a miserable routine, with the former king reduced to sobs and silence. It was unbearable, especially as he pulled away from those who cared for him—his fellow sins, his friends, and especially his daughter. But you continued to hold on, not leaving even with his harsh utterances and occasional outbursts. You wouldn’t let him be alone, couldn’t let him be alone, moving into the broken family’s manor to care for him full-time.

And he would always be thankful for that.

His mental health was climbing uptick for years, fluctuating back and forth until he had stabilized, at least in comparison to his state before. He became fantastic at masking his depression, brushing it underneath the rug as he delved into his own creations, pushing many of his relationships even further away as he stopped leaving home. You were the one to bring him food and clean the estate—his staff had drifted to other careers over the past few years. You were the one assuring that he wasn’t left hunched over a bench in the worst posture possible, toiling away with his latest obsession, no matter the cuteness of the ducks.

In his more conscious moments, you would listen as he ranted about his issues, even though you both were aware they were a product of his self-isolation. But in those instants, whispering quietly as if the heavens still held onto your every word, hiding from its light as if the touch of it would scorch your skin, an intimacy blossomed from the depths of your former friendship. It had remained idle for centuries, underlying the foundation of every interaction and word, leaving fleeting touches and shared laughter in your blissful youths for stern support and brief softness in your demonic adulthoods—neither of you ever noticed that you saw the other through heart-shaped lenses. Two fallen ones, cut from the same cloth, destinies forever intertwined by the choices you made as young seraphim.

But that had been the norm for thousands of years.

And without knowing, you had fallen into a relationship stage humans had archaically dubbed as “courting,” traveling outside the estate for the chance to spend time with one another, exchanging personalized gifts whenever the opportunity arose, swapping words of encouragement and affection. It was only after you had kissed him on the cheek one night that you both realized your feelings, and it only spiraled on from there. There were scars from his past love—undoubtedly, you had nurtured them with care—but even despite those, you worked to establish a healthy, balanced relationship as you navigated this strange stage in your lives.

However, there was someone who had not been quite so fond of this new development. You had attended meetings with the Heaven Embassy for many years as a favor to Lucifer, his absence becoming common after his separation from Lilith, but you could still remember locking eyes with the first man as you entered the room, dropping the chicken drum in his hands as his mouth widen agape.

“Hot damn.”

His flirtatious and oftentimes self-centered advances didn’t fly past your head like you wished they would. It seemed despite having thousands of years under his belt, he was unable to learn any kind of manners, but he had been the original sexist prick. And for his status as a divine man, he fucked around a lot. You didn’t doubt that was due to his own insecurities about both of his wives preferring someone else’s dick over his.

Once you and Lucifer had started dating, you happened to make the mistake of slipping that information to Adam in the hopes that he would back off, but it only seemed to provide him a challenge as his flirtations increased tenfold. From then on, your meetings no longer consisted of the same old information surrounding the exterminations; rather, they were him pointing out the many sexual accolades that he had roped under his belt and the way that apparently made him better than Lucifer—his favorite line was always that “that snake must have a little snake.”

Your disdain was obvious, repeating over and over for him to shut his mouth, but he would only smirk, taking your response as a sign that he had struck a nerve and that it was an opportunity to dig deeper. You decided to take over all the meetings with the embassy, keeping Lucifer away from the lecherous banter of the man, no matter the discomfort that formed in your gut from his unabashed perverseness and the predatory stares at your body.

“Come onnnn, babe,” Adam whined, in the middle of biting the meat off a chicken bone.

You shot him a look. “I’m not your babe, Adam.”

“Babe.” If you were able to reach over and strangle him, you would’ve. That was probably the reason the coward used a hologram instead of coming here himself. “A guy like that couldn’t possibly please you the way I could.”

You massaged your nose bridge, pointedly ignoring the flicker of his eyes from your face to your chest, unable to maintain stable eye contact. “Can we just get on with the meeting?”

“You know I’m right, but I’ll let you off the hook for now.”

You groaned, slamming your head onto the table.

From years onward, his nerve only increased, but he had never shown his bloodlust to you before until the exorcist army descended from the heavens to wreak chaos and death upon the doorstep of Lucifer’s only child, Charlie. You and the ever-so-optimistic princess of Hell developed quite a soft spot for one another, which wasn’t difficult since you had already been considered family in centuries past. The title of your romantic relationship with her father initially came with questions and a couple of awkward moments, but it wouldn’t stop either of you from growing a deeper friendship and understanding, walking through the process together. And it definitely didn’t stop you from defending the girl you had seen for years as a pseudo-daughter, along with her noble ambitions.

“Charlie!” you yelled, knocking Adam away from her as he attempted to strangle her. Charlie sputtered, holding her throat with a pained cough, and you raised a steady hand to her back, helping her rise to her feet. You gave her a once-over, relieved to find that she had no substantial wounds besides a couple of cuts and bruises.

You sighed, cupping her rosy cheeks. “Thank goodness you’re alright. Sorry for being so late. Your father will be here any moment.”

Her formerly desolate expression quickly changed into a beaming smile, eyes glimmering with revitalized determination. “Good! We need all the help we can get.”

However, the moment was cut short by the overexaggerated breaths of a particular man, Adam wobbling to his feet as he cradled his bruised ribs, which you didn’t doubt had been cracked in the impact. It was hard not to smile as he struggled to stand, a wave of retribution twitching through your fingertips.

“You bitch,” he groaned between shallow gasps, though his voice drifted into a humorous lilt. “You know, I’m all for feisty women, but this shit’s a bit extreme, don’tcha think, babe?”

“I am not your babe, Adam.”

You cringed at the moan that left his lips, knowing it was not from the pain of his bruises. “God damn, I love it when you say my name.” He chuckled. “It’d be better if you screamed it.”

“You couldn’t have been that good if both your wives left you for someone else,” you muttered, swallowing your bodily urge to vomit as you rubbed the burgeoning headache coursing through your temples.

His expression drained of any warmth or humor, only leaving behind the rotted, sinful corpse of a man that he pretended not to be. “What the fuck did you say to me, bitch?”

“Hmmm,” you hummed, rolling your eyes. “Did I strike a nerve there?”

His mouth contorted into a snarl. “You know, the only reason that snake keeps your ass around is because he needs a couple of assets,” he barked, curving his hands to gesture toward your curves. “To distract him!”

“Hey! Don’t talk about him—”

He cut you off, his imposing figure towering over you. “You’re only a convenience. A pretty face and a hole to fuck.”

You gasped, but he didn’t let you speak, a smirk curling up on his disgusting face. “You don’t mean anything to him, hun,” he sneered, his voice sickeningly sweet as he grabbed your chin, craning your neck at a muscle-aching angle to stare into your eyes. “You had a chance at heaven, slut. A chance to be with me. And you fuckin’ blew it—!”

He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, a bone-crunching punch tunneling into his face, his body cast off the hotel, which rocked under the aftershock, before it started to crumble like a deck of cards. With no time to waste, you and Charlie haphazardly jumped from shrapnel piece to shrapnel piece, able to land on the ground with barely a tumble as it collapsed into your foundation. The moment would’ve been devastating if your focus hadn’t been pinpointed elsewhere, the screams of a dying man drawing everyone to the impact pit.

“You have a lot of fuckin’ nerve,” a low voice scowled, sweltering steam blocking everyone’s vision away from the pair until it evaporated into the air, and that was when you spotted him. His voice was barely recognizable. The duplicated tones and whispers surrounding each word made him unidentifiable. But you knew who it was; those familiar sets of wings and the eyes of his tailcoat were clues enough. You hadn’t seen him take this form in decades, centuries even—he had no use for it, and to go to such an extreme was unlike him. He was shaking more than ever before; his fists balled up Adam’s collar as he pinned him to the ground.

“Intruding on my fuckin’ realm. Hurting my daughter.” And with each offense, another blow was added to the first man’s face, which looked more like roadkill than a former human with each malefaction. “Harassing and insulting my future wife!”

“Don’t you mean your little whore?” Adam managed to utter, that cocky tone still persistent. 

But that was a terrible mistake.

Lucifer did not respond to his comment, not at all. Instead, he paused, finding himself unprepared for the sheer audacity of the man underneath him, a man only clinging to life through recesses of holy power and spite. To the unsuspecting bystander, it would seem the king had calmed himself down, but instead, an inferno blazed between his fingertips, his form threatening to tear with the amount of heavenly light that he balanced on his palms. The ire of his many eyes looked upon Adam, and they saw to it that his judgment day had come early.

“Die.”

“Dad!”

Luck seemed to have Adam’s back as Charlie intervened, one of the few people who could ever draw her father out of such an irate warpath. However, it was only after a moment of contemplation from Lucifer, whose eyes stared at Adam, his face unreadable as his fingers twitched before he cracked a wicked smirk.

“How’s mercy feel, bitch?”

The next moments were a blur, though those eyes had turned towards you instead, not with the anger they had towards Adam, but of sheer contemplation—not that you paid attention to them, watching Adam’s death unfold in an ironically anti-climatic sort of way. You would’ve felt bad if your mind didn’t remedy the guilt in your gut with memories of your several encounters, most of which were not PG-13. The rest of the staff and residents gathered their bearings, joining to work on rebuilding the hotel, but you did not have the strength to. Instead, you took a moment for yourself, thoughts toiling through your head as they often did, not understanding the icky, nauseous feeling pooling at the bottom of your stomach.

You flinched at the brush of a hand that rested on your shoulder, only to find that it had been Lucifer, his brow furrowed in that same contemplative expression. And much like those times alone in the estate decades prior, a patient silence persisted as he sat next to you, gauging each touch as he pulled you closer, allowing your limp body to lean into his.

“You know none of what that asshole said is true, right?”

Is that what you had been so concerned about? You couldn’t tell. Your thoughts surrounding your relationship, especially in the context of his former love, had always been indecipherable, even to yourself. His question brought a small beam of clarity into the shadowed pits of your darkest thoughts, but it wasn’t the time to talk about it. Not now, at least.

“Yeah, I know.” Your voice was more shaken than you wanted it to come out, but he understood the underlying message. He could tell it wasn’t the truth, not entirely, and that the roots of your insecurities weren’t something to be remedied through a singular conversation. But it was a start. He intertwined your fingers, caressing the bare area of your ring finger.

“I wish you would’ve told me,” he spoke, his voice soft. “I would never have let you go to those meetings.”

You stayed staring out into the distance. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

However, he believed differently, tilting your chin as he cupped your face, much more loving compared to the hands that had grabbed you prior. And his eyes, ones that had been filled with hatred, now glinted in sharp concern. “But it is a big deal. That’s sexual harassment.”

“You were going through so much,” you replied. “It was just one additional thing I didn’t want you to deal with. Another burden on your back.”

“(Name),” he said, voice stern.

The gruffness of his uncompromising tone drew your eyes to your hands. “Any insult to you is an insult to me. Always has been, always will be. People don’t get to talk to you like that. It doesn’t matter what shit I’m going through. That doesn’t mean you get to be thrown under the bus.” He cracked a smile. “And anyone who even thinks of treating you less than the perfection you are deserves to be roasted alive. You’re not a burden. You’re priceless.”

“You’re really into those cannibalism metaphors recently,” you quipped, a bit of your reprieve and humor returning back. He laughed, his heart falling into ease, though he recognized the nod towards his disdain for a certain radio demon, his expression contorting in disgust.

“I’m not gonna eat him! Think of how gross that thing would taste. Just awful, bleh—!”

You cut him off with a kiss, making his rosy cheeks redden more. “Thanks, Lu.”

You tried to stand. His arm braced underneath your back, a hand brushing across the sensitive skin of your waist as he hovered above, his lips locked onto yours. You sighed into his mouth as his fingers mapped every beauty mark of your face, only for him to split, panting. His eyes shone with recognizable desperation, but the smirk on his lips told you he was prepped to tease, brushing the stray baby hairs out of your face that had been ruffled in the fray.

“If someone ever bothers you like that again, you tell me. Got it?”

You only sighed. “Lucifer, I can handle my—”

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, mouth upturned in a cheeky grin at the way it cut you off. “It’s not smart to fight without your shield, now, is it?’

You relented, unable to withhold your bashful grin. “Of course.”

A silence persisted.

“Your future wife, hm?”

“…shit.”

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