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inamindfarfaraway · 3 months

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The Exorcists’ Masks of Virtue

The vast majority of Exorcists in Hazbin Hotel have a notable design element that other angels don’t: their masks are missing an eye. Specifically, the right eye.

I believe this is a reference to the Bible, Matthew 5:29. Jesus says, “If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.”

He’s being hyperbolic. Mr Free Healthcare was not pro-mutilation. What he means is that you have to be willing to make sacrifices to prevent sin. The context of the eye metaphor is him condemning adultery and warning that even something as easy, casual and small as a look full of lustful intent can lead to further, worse sin if you don’t notice your sin, hold yourself accountable for it and do the work to not let it influence your decisions. This will probably be hard. It could be very, very painful. Changing your perspective can feel as horrible as plucking out your eye, so many people can’t bring themselves to do it. But although it won’t feel that way in the moment, it’s healthier for our general wellbeing in the long run to abandon traits and behaviours that damage ourselves and/or others.

(You may notice that Jesus’s teaching that you can have sinned, redeem yourself by giving up sin and thus escape damnation is the founding principle of the Hazbin Hotel. You may also notice that it contradicts everything the Exorcists believe.)

The Exorcists seem to follow this idea of painfully excising badness for the sake of the greater good devoutly to the point of placing it above teachings like ‘Thou shalt not kill’, with their job being to remove sin, in the form of sinners, to protect Heaven. Hence the missing right eyes. They’re a declaration of moral righteousness and inability to stumble.

But the truth is that the Exorcists all have their right eyes. Their flawlessness is a facade. Underneath, they are untouched, think themselves morally untouchable and, as shown by their horror and outrage when even one of them is killed, would much rather be physically untouchable too. This perfectly represents their complete unwillingness to acknowledge their own faults, let alone improve. They are never the ones who sacrifice. They force the sinners to sacrifice and don’t compensate it with any salvation. They metaphorically rip out the sinners’ eyes, but still condemn their entire bodies as inherently, permanently sinful. So they’ll just have to do another Extermination to get the other eyes! And another one to cut off their right hands! And so on until there’s nothing left.

The only exception to the rule is Vaggie, both in appearance and character. Her mask has the left eye crossed out instead. Even before her expulsion, she’s set apart to the audience as an Exorcist who has the capacity to, shall we say, see a different side of things. Her mask having its ‘sinful’ right eye reflects her understanding that the Exorcist worldview is wrong.

When she almost kills a demon child, her hateful vision clears. She discards the part of herself that’s an unquestioning, merciless agent of death, terror and grief… and as punishment for what Lute perceives as treacherous weakness, gets her eye plucked out.

Of course Lute leaves her with only the ‘sinful’ eye. It brands Vaggie forever as the inversion, a perversion, of what the Exorcists are meant to be.

You know, all this talk of eye removal in the Bible reminds of another line - ‘an eye for an eye’. Adam directly quotes it in “Hell is Forever”. He uses it to frame the Exterminations as Old Testament-style punitive justice; the sinners did harm and so they receive it. But putting aside the debate about how ethical the concept of revenge is, the entire point of taking an eye for an eye is that it’s proportional. The punishment fits the crime. If someone cuts your eye out, you shouldn’t murder their whole family in front of them and then slowly disembowel them to death. That would be the sin of wrath. You should just make them pay without excessive pain or collateral damage. This is the fairest form of revenge.

The Exorcists don’t do that! The Exterminations aren’t proportional to the wrongs of all they hurt, nor was Vaggie’s brutal punishment equivalent to her extremely mild insubordination. Lute literally takes Vaggie’s eye, and more, after Vaggie does nothing to her! That’s the opposite of the phrase! Adam and his soldiers are wrathful and cruel, deriving satisfaction from others’ suffering. But they just can’t stop going on and on about how disgustingly evil the sinners are, in total hypocrisy… despite some of the sinners being far better people than the genocidal Exorcists are… it’s like they’re obsessed with specks of dust in the sinners’ eyes when they have massive logs stuck in their own. Oh hey, that’s in the Bible too!

#both emotionally and symbolically i am rooting for vaggie or charlie to take out one of lute’s eyes #i was like ‘cool vaggie’s missing the opposite eye to her former mask!’#and then i went back and saw that her mask was also different #and then i went down a rabbit hole of biblical mentions of bad things happening to eyes #i know god and jesus (and the holy spirit) probably won’t appear in the show #at least not in person #but i do cherish the mental image of adam and his genocidal army hanging out #when jesus christ bursts in with a whip #and gets all ‘you have made my father’s house into a den of thieves’ on them but an order of magnitude more intense #because HE SAID LOVE ONE ANOTHER #WHERE IS THE LOVE #HE SPECIFICALLY REQUESTED IT #i’m not christian! i’m a hardcore atheist!#religion is just as fictious to me as egyptian mythology #however i am also autistic and have major special interests in mythology and folklore #so here i am fervently writing analysis of the sermon on the mount #hazbin hotel #hazbin vaggie #hazbin hotel vaggie #vaggie #hazbin hotel exorcists #hazbin exorcists #hazbin hotel analysis #hazbin analysis

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chalkrub · 1 year

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night time critters

#my art #illustration #anthro #furry #furry art #anthro art #goat #oc #svanhildr #in svanhildr's religion that i am yet to name moths are like lost spirits and/or spirit messengers #i love this goat very much lol #svanhildr.....you are my bestest girl ever. congratulations

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bottombaron · 2 months

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you know, i can handle a little bit of fun "Nandor is dumb" talk, but i have a net-zero tolerance for any implication that Nandor is not educated.

Nandor would have been incredibly educated in his lifetime.

even (or especially) as a soldier in the Islamic World. being a soldier was more like getting sent to boarding school that's also a military camp. they weren't just concerned with creating loyal fodder for war. they were building the next government officials, generals, accountants, advisors, etc. it was important that young men knew how to read, write, speak multiple languages, learn philosophy...sometimes even studying art and music was mandatory.

if he was nobility (and its most likely he was), take all that shit and multiply it exponentially. Nandor would have been reading Plato at the same age most people are still potty training. he would have been specifically groomed in such a way to not be just a brilliant strategist and warrior, but also diplomate and ambassador of literally the center of scientific and cultural excellence of the age.

so like yeah, he can be a big dummy sometimes, sure. but that bitch is probably more educated than any of us will ever be.

#wwdits #nandor the relentless #Nandor #what we do in the shadows #i think its obvious by how much Nandor loves to read that he grew up educated #it's one of my favorite character traits of his #anyways #this was just your local psa abt the depth of Nandor's character and intelligence #and how the medieval islamic world was like - so much more advanced than it's western counterpart it's hilarious how ppl mischaracterize it #(by hilarious i mean it makes me want to break something)#this was in my drafts lolol what did i read that made me vent this? idk #also 'islamic world' is just a term some historians use to describe a specific geographical location and historical age #kind of how 'western world' is used today #it doesn't mean it's specific to one religion or nation but the broader time and location #meaning that Al Qolindar or Persia or Ilkhanate or w/e you want to call where Nandor came from #the same expectations of education and it's vibrant social/cultural world remain an accurate image of the middle east in the medieval age #if you come from the west like me #think The Forum + The Library of Alexandria + Paris/Florence + and idk anything else u think of when u think of 'Western Excellence'#and then imagine of all of that in one place at one time and then u might get close to what the world Nandor was living in as a human

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emil1863 · 2 months

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The most illegal thing Koby has done is learn a divine language... Which is only a little bit more illegal than dating a God

So.

Thoughts on language/religion in regards to this au. They aren't fully fleshed out but I'll clean it up as I go.

Learning a divine language is kinda taboo, like, you can learn them, and it's certainly less frowned upon than poneglyph, but outward practice isn't really accepted. Many people who are religious or follow religious practices are well versed in divine languages, in order to feel closer to their respective Gods.

Besides, religion makes people feel at ease and the world government is pretty relaxed when it comes to punishing those for worshiping or following their Gods. With how many there are, and how deeply a lot of it is ingrained into so many cultures, it'd also be a pain in the ass to control both that and pirates.

Koby learns through the people he meets while traveling. A lot of them think it's odd but fascinating that a young, wide-eyed marine wants to learn something like that. They indulge him anyways.

He did get better at understanding the language but his pronunciation isn't great, kinda hard to make some of the sounds Luffy makes too. Especially when he isn't used to talking like that, nor are most people. Demigods have an easier time picking up on speaking the actual... Words?

Robin understands the language of the Gods, and the rest of the Straw Hats do pick up on it a little bit just through exposure to Luffy. Luffy isn't the greatest teacher, but having people who want to understand him is always exciting. He is thrilled when he meets up with Koby on Water 7 and Koby can understand him.

#one piece #monkey d. luffy #one piece luffy #op koby #cobylu #kobylu #god au #my art #this is so silly-i needed you all to understand the vibes of this #koby did NOT know wtf luffy was saying at first #unfortunately that was unacceptable so he learned how to talk to luffy #sorry if theres like-inconsistencies or smth else not really understandable with that #kinda going off of my knowledge of what 'speaking in tounges' is and my understanding of that while also not abiding by that like at all #i think religion and language are such cool concepts tho #irl too love learning abt that stuff

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p4nishers · 6 months

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yeah your rituals may be intricate but have you ever had your life saved by the person who was supposed to let you die? have you ever been seen as never been before by that person and changed by him seeing you? have you ever been faced with the devastating realization that he didn't remember you, two separate times? have you ever had to watch him die over and over and not been able to do anything about it? have you ever looked at him and decided that nothing was more important to you than his life? have you ever taken up the biggest burden you could so he would live in peace and still listened to everything he was doing because you couldn't let him go?

#have you ever loved someone so much it felt like inventing a religion #lokius #loki #mobius m mobius #loki series #loki season 2

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otpadsis · 6 months

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candlelit dinner <3

#enstars #mayoi ayase #these church candles r more tatsumi themed (or whoever else in es has strange relation to religion) than mayoi but um well you see. i love.#my ankle is fine now. i have this nasty scary bruise that i rly like

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crybaby-bkg · 9 months

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“Are you ever angry?” You ask quietly, head resting in Bakugou’s lap. His thumb pauses where it strokes your cheeks, the far away gaze in his eyes suddenly snapping into focus as he looks down at you. He looks…different than you remembered, before you both were cast out of the pearly gates.

His hair doesn’t shine as bright as it used to, and it falls a little flatter without the halo pulling it up, soft. His eyes still hold that hardened gaze as a battle angel, but they’re deeper now. More sunken in and hollow, the flickering ichor now a stained crimson. His face is scarred and his hands are rough after the fall but he’s just—different.

“About what?” He asks, his lips pursed in confusion. You reach a hand up, stroking over his bottom lip, smooth a hand through his hair. You can almost feel the throbbing light radiating from him, can almost see how broad and ivory his wings would spread and hold you tight to him.

“It all. Everything. The fall.” You whisper, try not to shrink into yourself with the way Bakugou’s lip curls back in disgust. He pulls away from you and you sit up, resting on your knees, looking at him in such a way that his heart pangs in his chest.

His heart, something he’s never had a reason for when he still had his fists bathed in heavenly fire and no ounce of rebellion hidden under sinless skin. It aches in his chest at the mention of life after being kicked out with the only thing he could hold onto—you.

“Why would I miss my thoughtlessness? My inability to make a decision for myself? Why would I miss being a pawn?” Bakugou is all snarls, all snapping teeth and jowls, but it doesn’t scare you. He’s never scared you, even when his gait was limp from the impact of hard soil, and his hands grew rough, and his back grew jagged from ripped feathers.

“I miss it.” You whisper so carefully into the humid night, hands reaching for his own trembling ones. “I want to be holy again, Katsuki.”

He hisses at you, snatching away like you’ve burned him, like you’ve seized his halo and ripped it into two until it split into horns. Looks at you with such heavenly fire burning in his gaze that you want to shrink beneath him.

“Well—well I don’t. Find someone else who will, cause it sure as hell ain’t me.” You wonder who he’s trying to convince here, with his shaky voice and fluttering eyes and trembling mouth. You stare at him for a long while, lips wobbling at the gravity of it all. Your head hangs low, gathering yourself in your arms, head bowed to him—it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.

“Just hold me for now.” You murmur, eyes low as you settle yourself in his arms, forcing your way into his hold. “Please?” You tack on, unafraid of his bite, his snarl, his growl. Bakugou sits there stiffly for what feels like a century, but you’re used to waiting.

He gathers you in his arms slowly, pulling you into his chest, his body covering yours completely. And if you let yourself relax enough, you can almost feel the warmth of his wings surrounding you again.

#can you tell I watched the first season of good omens today AKSJDKDJD #this is actually my favorite subject matter to write about!!#Ive been writing about it since I was a teen and it’s just so cathartic and relaxing and melancholic in a sense #but I don’t tend to write it for fics bc I usually just write p*rn ajdkdjd #I know this kinda stuff isn’t everybody’s cup of tea but it means a lot to me #at first I was gonna make you guys on either side of each other #but didn’t wanna do the bad boy demon x innocent angel reader thing #and I feel like somebody did the vice versa version too???? I can’t remember but I didn’t wanna unintentionally steal lol #so I just did both fallen angels which I love a shit ton lol #I’m rambling sorry!!!#bakugou treats! 🍬#—new treat in the streets! 🍫#cw religion #cw religious imagery #tagging just to be safe!

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septembersghost · 1 year

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on the subject a handful of you and i have been discussing lately in regards to being enthusiastically loving and heartfelt and open about the things which move you, rather than feeling obligated to layer that in snide commentary or participate in some of the more unsteady and unkind aspects of fandom, i also want to acknowledge that's really scary! one of the absolute worst feelings is trying to share your excitement and passion and thoughtfulness with someone and having them entirely reject it. you tell anyone about something you love and you are revealing and holding out a part of your heart, and there are times when that's going to be brushed off and you'll feel unheard and it hurts. so of course vitriolic rhetoric, even from complete strangers, feels horrible. to love anything you're giving it a piece of who you are and letting it become entwined with you in turn. it gets into your essence. (loving you is not a choice, it's who i am...as my dear mr. sondheim wrote in the incisive, breathtakingly human way that only he could. just as he said, anything you do, let it come from you, then it will be new. give us more to see. and make me aware of being alive.) it can feel simpler to make that into more of a joke about being trash or dismiss yourself (we've all done it, i certainly have and do), or engage in that cyncism because it's protective. yet you keep loving anyway, even when your hand's at risk. loving anything makes you vulnerable, and sharing it puts that vulnerability in danger of being turned away. BUT, it also always gives you something true and beautiful and the possibility of connection and a bridge with people who will understand and value it or be inspired by it, and who will take your hand. that love is never wasted, and it belongs to you. you are what you love.

#*whispers* inspired by sharing something really important this morning with someone i knew wouldn't care: *blinks* idk what i expected lol #jess.mess #bubble wrap around my heart #love for you is like a religion #love is not something that can be wasted #the consolation of imaginary things #is not imaginary consolation #have a liquid heart and soul

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pb-dot · 20 days

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I find the way Fantasy High Junior Year treats religion to be fascinating, and evolving in an interesting way in the last couple of episodes. Like episode 14 makes it pretty clear, through Kristen's parents and Bobby Dawn that the helioic faith, ironically isn't much of a faith. There's no need for faith or belief there, they know who their god, Helio, they know he's a force interacting with their lives and their world, and they "know" that he is the only correct god to follow. This is in part a character flaw on their part, but is in a way also a logcial extrapolation of the cosmology of the D&D universe, or at least the particular branch of it in which Fantasy High resides.

Kristen stands as a stark contrast to this, where faith is all she has. Nobody knows whether Cassandra is alive, dead, or something in-between, and Kristen has chosen to believe that Cassandra is out there, somewhere. In a way, Cassandra is a better diety for doubt and mystery now than she was when she had a physical form one could see and interact with.

This is why the confrontation between Bobby Dawn and Kristen is so interesting to me, because while Bobby is technically correct in that Kristen's god is dead, it should tell him something that Kristen is still able to do the works of a cleric in Cassandra's name. That's not a fail state, that's a level faith that really justifies Kristen's sainthood, hell, we may be past the level of a saint at this point. This is the kind of stuff religious movements gets started off of. This is the kind of stuff that you only read about in ancient histories. It's happening in Bobby Dawn's classroom, and this corn pone televangelist motherfucker is too blinded by bitterness of Kristen ditching his religion, too drunk on the certainty of following The Right Way, to see this real life miracle unfold in front of him. This man shouldn't be a cleric teacher. Even if he managed to teach without biasing towards his Mean Girls crew of divinities and their followers, which I have no faith (heh) that he is able, or willing, to do, he still fails on a fundamental level. Bobby Dawn is beholding a wonder of modern faith, a messianic figure in the making, and opposes it. Not as a matter of conviction, but because is unable to comprehend it because it's not happening on "his team."

It's really interesting stuff, and it's shaping up to be one hell of a character arc for Saint Kristen Chillis Applebees as long as she doesn't get expelled.

#d20 fhjy #fantasy high junior year #Kristen Applebees #in which I ramble about faith and belief #you know Book Of Mormon (The Musical) often gets called “An Atheist's Love Letter to Religion”#and I never quite knew what to feel about that #but I will gladly call Junior Year a worthy claimant to the title #or maybe “Agnostic's Love Letter to Religion”?#I don't know the faiths or philosophies re:God of the people involved #but as an atheist-agnostic myself I will say that this plotline is really cooking #and it has a lot of clever things to say about religion at least in the D&D-verse #which is a whole situation in and of itself frankly #Honestly good on Brennan and the IH for going into depth on the religion angle a bit #it feels like an underutilized part of character building most of the time #and it's nice to see it get its day in the sun here

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jitterbugbear · 5 months

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a very messy linocut christmas card<33

#first time using softcut! it didnt kill my fingers like actual lino #art #jitterbugbear art #linocut #linoprint #artists on tumblr #christmas #and vili if you see this... no you didn't 🔫#traditional art #also yeah i unfortunately love christmastime though not for religion purposes #illustration #you could probably take my fingerprints off these pics with the amount of smudges i managed to create lollll

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vasito-de-leche · 5 months

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okay I read your analysis on Forget Me Not and I'm in tears now thank you. (No but really thank you, it's such a touching piece.) Can you PLEASE for salvation of our fans souls write anything to like,,, give him hope? Forget Me Not x reader but it doesn't have to be actually all-out with hugs and kisses. We may,,,,,,,, just show him a new hobby? Any hobby of your choosing or idk play an instrument together. Just to give him something else to focus on, to channel at least part of his energy from self-destructive activities to something less hurtful. I'd personally like to bandage his (not actually wounded but still) hands as if they were bleeding. Something of the kind. Sorry for mistakes writing is incredibly inconvenient cuz tears aaa.

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - "hands, fingers, scales"

Forget Me Not x Reader. 2.3k words. self-harm implied You've befriended Forget Me Not the same one befriends a rabid, beaten, old dog. And while he's much too busy fighting his inner demons, you're more worried about stopping these "pernicious habits" of his. A casual afternoon trying to make sure he's taking care of himself turns into something deeper.

thank you so much for the ask, nonnie!!

I got a little carried away with this request because thinking about how fucking insufferable and confusing FMN has to be just to indulge in HAND HOLDING and GETTING A FUCKING HOBBY made me so deranged and feral as if hes not fucking TOUCHSTARVED lmfao. this guy's love language is straight up worshipping, mf is not subtle about it

either way, hope you like it! here's the lil preview!

Sometimes, Forget Me Not understands the reason men and women kneel at the pew to worship and pray.

Devotion is something arcanists and humans share, whether honest or not. He's witnessed the rich and the poor, the pure and the depraved, and every binary that rules this world - all of them begging, pleading and praying at the end of their lives, casting away the pride they've held on for so long for the chance of salvation. Once stripped down to their core, there is nothing to do but hope God has enough love in His heart to look their way.

And sometimes, Forget Me Not prays that you’ll find someone else - anyone but him - to fill the role of devotee.

The gentleness in your eyes whenever you look at him is enough to bring him to his knees, and Forget Me Not doesn't know what to do with himself but to worship and pray. Praying that you'll continue to look at him for a little longer, silently begging for your attention until you finally tire of him. Do you think yourself holy enough to replace the vitriol in his veins?

He does.

On good days, he even hopes that you can save him.

You never asked him to become your one and only believer, of course. You're not even aware of the space you take in his mind, nor the conflicting images he keeps conjuring of you at night, he's certain of this. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, holding his hands and inspecting them for any injuries. This role is one of the many self-imposed tragedies in his life.

Your thumbs knead and massage his palm, as if you could soothe the pain away, and yet you refrain from pressing down hard. He's at your mercy, why hesitate? What do you see that he cannot?

Something is bothering you. It's obvious in the way you touch him, like you're afraid of hurting him, as if you were the one with a body count between the two. Every so often, your movements come to a halt and you both sit in silence, until you return to your ministrations, filling the nothingness with your sighing and humming.

All he needs is to look up, right at your face, to know everything he wants to know - but he's too much of a coward for that. Instead, light grey eyes follow your index finger as it slides under the cuffs of his shirt. You trace over the bone of his wrist and continue upwards.

He can't tear his eyes away.

Normally, Forget Me Not wouldn't mind. There is an addictive thrill to witnessing the shock of anyone who dares get so close and personal, but he feels himself shrink when you brush against his scales and recoil away on instinct. That's when he raises his head and finds your eyes in the dimly lit staff room.

That expression on your face - surely, you were regretting every choice that led you to him. By now, you might've surely realized that there is nothing for you to salvage in this shipwreck he calls a life. All attempts to check on him were surely a façade for whatever ulterior motives you continued to withhold from him. He's stubborn, believing that he can read you like an open book, but now he's just as lost as you are. When he opens his mouth to speak, you beat him to it and he grows a little restless at your words.

"Sorry, sorry! Did I, uh, hurt you? Dumb question, you would've definitely told me if that were the case. Anyway, it looks like you're okay! I don't know why I was so worried, actually."

His silence prompts you to continue, and all Forget Me Not can focus on is the absence of your warmth.

You raise a hand to gesture dismissively at your behaviour, brush it off to ease your embarrassment, that much he understands - though it's painful to watch you fumble like that, to deny what he hides under his clothes. Forget Me Not thinks of filling the space between your fingers with his own, just to drag you back to that quiet, albeit suffocating, moment of peace. Instead of doing that, he retreats and places both hands neatly on his lap.

"Thanks for indulging me and, yeah uh, again - sorry about that? It just caught me off guard. I should've been more careful."

But you were never careful with his space or his rules, plunging in and out of his life and leaving him to figure out where he stood in his game of push and pull. Why were you being careful now?

"It's nothing, I understand," he lies. Everything you do means the world to him and he doesn't even understand why. "It cannot hurt to know what sort of things the person pouring your drinks might be hiding under their sleeves."

The word "hypocrite" lingers at the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill out with as much venom as he can muster, but it stays lodged behind his teeth because he knows he's even worse: Forget Me Not prays that you'll stay with him, while also opening the door right out his life for you. As much as he wants to, he has no right of calling you out.

He's not used to receiving apologies and so he chooses not to think too hard on yours - though he's dreamed countless of times for the perfect situation in which he finally rips out one apology after another from the throats of those who wronged him, this one feels different. Undeserved, even.

His heart, that wretched lump in his chest, finally settles down and he prepares to end this interaction to save you the awkwardness of addressing his "deformities". But then you go and surprise him once more.

"Come on, I already told you..." You sigh and he inhales in tandem, but you're much too busy rolling your eyes to notice. "That whole thing you do, when you start scratching or, like, picking at your hand? You've been doing it more lately. It had me worried you might've been doing, I don't know - something."

Forget Me Not's eyes widen in surprise. The audacity to notice such things about him? And to put them on display without a warning? What else did you find out?

Part of him wants him to embrace his nature and scare you away, but that's the side of him that's been slowly losing this battle of attrition in his heart - you're a bad influence for him, after all. The other part... Well, it's still trying to sort itself out.

He settles for slowly undoing the buttons on his sleeve. It only takes a moment to roll up the fine fabric to his elbow, knowing you're staring right at him, through him maybe. The expression on his face is one of indifference, one he fights to maintain - this is the most vulnerable he's felt in decades.

That unsightly pattern begins exactly where his sleeves usually end, coiling around his forearm not unlike a snake and traveling upwards. The scales are dark, an iridescent black that reminds him of an oil spill in the middle of the ocean, and the ones at the edges fade away into lighter hues until they mix with the pale, sickly tone of his skin. He knows the sort of beauty he holds, one that can only be admired at a distance, turning into a grotesque imitation of a man when up close.

Forget Me Not presents himself to you and, with his free hand, gets ready to pluck one of the scales off.

"Wait, don't do that-!"

Seizing his arm and holding it close to your chest, you deprive him of the catharsis that comes with this level of self-mutilation. He knows you're connecting the dots, feeling the scattered, empty spaces from all the times you saw him pick himself apart and more. Your fingers brush against his bare skin looking for said spaces, counting them in your head, mourning their loss.

Some scales are in the process of regrowing like unwanted parasites, and he wishes he could feel anything at all just to be closer to you.

"God, what is wrong with you?! What was the point of that?"

Something compels him to laugh (perhaps it's your heartbeat reaching out to him loud and clear through your clothes, he feels it faintly) it comes across as sinister and condescending, the only way he knows how to express joy. Like he's making fun of your concern.

"Apologies," Forget Me Not begins to say, readjusting his glasses. The way you try to keep his own arm out of his reach doesn't go unnoticed. It's such a petty, childish gesture that makes his grin widen and your frown deepen. "I was under the impression you found this little oddity distasteful. There's no need to worry - they will return in a few days, they always do."

"Still, don't do that. It's not funny. It must...hurt a lot."

"Ah, but it doesn't. If else, I'd compare it to being pricked by a very small needle."

"You're just going to find something to nitpick and contradict everything I say, aren't you?" It's the least he can do to repay all the headaches you've given him, and for forgiving his transgressions too easily.

An intrusive thought makes itself known from the depths of his mind - would you forgive him just as readily if he were to kill someone in front of you? If he showed you just how destructive his arcane skills could be when given free reign? Where would you draw the line? And how much could he continue to push his luck before he lost you?

Before Forget Me Not realizes it, you've loosened your grip on his arm and returned to that previous moment of suffocating peace - the only difference is that you've gone from being deep in thought to troubled and miserable, one hair away from darting out the room and refusing to speak to him. At this, his pinky finger wraps around yours and neither of you mention it.

"Can't you... I don't know, do something else?"

"I could be doing my job, but alas, you're keeping me prisoner here." He says, like he's not delighted to be given your undivided attention. There are no complaints when you step on his foot with a huff, he deserved that one.

"I'm talking about the scales thing! You could wear gloves. If it happens when you get distracted then, I could hang around to make sure you stop in time." A pause, and then the sound of your voice becomes unsure and so very small. "Maybe if we covered them with bandages...? But that could be annoying. Band aids? No, no - too unprofessional. It would ruin the whole aesthetic you're going for."

You continue to trail off, coming up with many different ideas and solutions to a problem he caused. He doesn't understand why you'd even bother in the first place. For you to reciprocate the attention he gives you, to care about him? That's the hardest pill Forget Me Not has ever swallowed - it's something he twirls around with his tongue, as if deciding whether to poison himself with bliss or spit it out and continue latching on to his doubts and insecurities.

Outside, in front of everyone at The Walden, he's the one leading the crowd and talking for hours on end, commanding their attention and manipulating the flow of every conversation.

Behind closed doors, all he does is listen to every nonsensical thought, unnecessary opinion and strange anecdote you throw at him.

"...No, that won't work either." Absentmindedly, you fix and button his sleeve back into place.

You've grown used to his silence the same way you've adapted and grown used to his flaws.

"I mean, it worked on me - getting a little slap on the wrist whenever I started biting my nails, but..." Without even thinking, you rub circles with your thumb across his knuckles.

You might as well be the stupidest angel in heaven.

"Why don't you just get a hobby? That's good enough, right? It's been so long since I've heard you play piano, the one by the stage." And just like that, you're on your feet attempting to drag him outside for a demonstration. "You could teach me! That way, we get to do something fun and I get to keep an eye on you."

Forget Me Not knows he has nothing to offer to this world, but when his saint looks at him with such hope, he cannot refuse. The path to recovery seems almost doable when you bump your shoulder into his, challenging him to play the hardest song he knows.

The stars in your eyes whenever you recognize all the songs he plays becomes intoxicating, more so than the sweet, sweet revenge he's yearned for since he spiraled into decadence.

Some days, his patrons join with their own singing or humming, and he forgets that he hates each and every one of them for as long as his fingers dance across the keys - a momentary reprieve from the constant stream of negativity. It doesn't take long for his body to remember his training and soon, he's improvising.

A melody for gloomy, rainy days. A whimsical tune here and there for celebrations.

A song for you and himself - the first one he teaches you and the only one he plays in private, when he's all alone with nothing but his thoughts. Solitude has gone from a noose wrapped around his neck to the perfect time to compose and hone this long forgotten passion. For the first time in forever, he doesn't dread the silence of an empty room, the endless wait between his shifts at The Walden - not when he can simply fill them with more and more music.

And so, Forget Me Not plays, hoping that you'll continue to cheer him on. Hoping that this tiny spark you've ignited in him can truly become his salvation.

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #r1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #reverse 1999 fanfic #reverse 1999 forget me not #forget me not #outing myself as a huge fuckin religion/devotion as a metaphor for relationships freak #and as a hand freak as well. love it when the smallest acts of intimacy are the BIGGEST FUCKING DEALS for characters who are touchstarved #i love writing reader inserts from the pov of the character instead of the reader like #what goes in their head and shit??? THE INNER MONOLOGUES AND DRAMA ?????#FORGET ME NOT'S WHOLE ACT IS A COVER FOR THE FUCKING MESS HE IS WHEN YOU LOOK AT HIMMMMM!!!!!!!#soggiest wettest most pathetic man at manus vindictae #i hope i got his whole fuckin two faced and contradicting mentality across. mf is not having a good time healing but my GOD hes. trying #he hates you but he loves you but god he hates you so much but yeah he'll still worship the ground you walk on #the title is a pun btw. scales. musical scales. his snake scales #IM VERY SMART

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