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#better 5 years late than never eh
celestiall0tus · 2 months
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Tell me, how did you feel about the messed up season 5 finale?
I think I see now why my Tumblr inbox total has been off by one for a while now. But! Better late than never.
So, if I'm honest, it's laughable. Adrien being denied the chance to face Hawkmoth hurt, but whatever. Bugnoire was ok, but eh. I was glad to see Gabriel trick Marinette so he could get the miraculous and make his wish. Which, fuck.
So, I've long since chosen violence when I woke up today, but I'm just gonna say it. Gabriel won. He wasn't redeemed through any normal means but got his wish. He wanted to be seen as a good guy and so he was. There was no redemption but a man's wish that completely rewrote the future of their reality. Hell, I'd barely call it a redemption anyway. He won, plain and simple. And, honestly, I'm glad he did.
I make no secret that I hate the writing in the show. I know it's supposed to be geared towards kids, but even I've seen kids shows that do such a better job than that shit show. Fuck, I would much rather watch Arthur and Bluey, true kids shows, over miraculous any day. I'd honestly put Miraculous damn near on par with the fucking nonsensical kids shows I have to watch while watching over a three year old that make me want to blow out my brains. All this rambling to say how piss poor Miraculous is as a kids show, has terrible messaging, and I'm glad Gabriel won.
Kids show or not, every part of this show is insulting. Fuck I've seen 6 year olds enjoy this show so much more than the intended audience. Which, the two gremlins (12 and 14) I know in that audience would be cheering with me that Gabriel won because they both hate Marinette.
Additionally (before I ramble again) if you want to add this example to the show glorifying abuse, have at it. Personally, I don't see it quite that way. The villain won. He got his wish, whatever that may have fully been. However, we know he had it with Adrien in mind. So, here we are in this perfect world for his darling boy who'll always remember him as a hero. Done deal. Wish accomplished.
All this rambling aside is to say, the villain won and everyone was screwed by idiot writers that can't even write a fucking 'kids show'
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celestialmilfs · 9 months
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Character: Nadja of Antipaxos Word Count: 6,079 Warnings: Blood, Vampire-typical violence, death Rating: M (for violence -- no smut today) Description: Watching the dying woman’s slowly rising chest with your hands upturned on your thighs, you vaguely feel like you’ve been sat at an altar of worship, to take part in communion of a different kind – the kind that Nadja beside you knows as well as a dead man’s flesh on her tongue. -- There's no worse (or better) day to work a night shift than when Nadja of Antipaxos arrives in London. She is bound to be angry, and very, very hungry. A/N: Happy season 5 countdown!! Here’s a bit of Nadja to ease the wait.
The cigarette tastes bitter and stale as you take a drag and blow out a puff of smoke. You quit a year ago. And then again, two months later. One more time, at the end of June. It never did quite stick.
“You alright, mate?”
One of your co-workers, a man in his late fifties dressed in grimy company overalls and a worn blue cap comes to stand beside you. He seems to be enjoying his smoke significantly more than you.
You never did remember his name. Cal? Cap? Cam? It definitely started with a C.
“Yeah,” you say. “Just savoring it.” You gesture at the dirty midnight streets of Hackney. Nothing quite like working the nights to figure a new place out, to find the heart of it.
Someone pukes a few corners down, and you throw out the remaining half of your cigarette, no longer interested.
Cam laughs. “Nice night for sure. You been here long?”
“Arrived a month back.” You breathe in the stinging air, savoring the bite of Cam’s cigarette smoke.
“London’s all right.” Cam leans his hand over the paint can acting as an ashtray and flicks his cigarette. The burnt remains fall like little snowflakes. “It’s not like films or nothing, but it’s all right. Could be worse.”
“Oh, yeah?” you ask him just as a man, presumably the same one who emptied his stomach just moments ago, stumbles into view and passes you by, careening first towards you, and then back into the opposing wall. You can smell the piss on him all the way from here. “What qualifies as worse?”
Cam coughs and smiles for the first time. His teeth are yellow, and one of them is chipped.
“Let’s just leave it at that, eh?” he says, drains the rest of his cigarette, and throws the remains into the can. He clears his throat wetly, and spits a ball of phlegm into the gutter.
“Time to go?” you ask. He nods quietly, and you follow him back inside.
The warehouse is massive compared to any you’d worked in before. Black splotches crawl from floor to ceiling in a mixture of shadows and spilled engine oil. Yellow support beams reach all the way to the top, stained and worn from holding the place up since the day it was built. The walls are solid concrete, save for the huge shutter doors that open into the chilly night like windows into a different dimension.
The place is bustling — people swarm it like bees loading and unloading, shouting for assistance or barking orders, driving heavy, wheezing trucks and whizzing by on forklifts. The noise is immense.
“There you are!” A gruff male voice calls a few feet away, muffled by the crowd. Your head whips in his direction as he pushes past a group of men with clipboards and hardhats.
Your boss, Tomas, is hard to forget — thick, wild eyebrows constantly bent in disappointment, gaunt cheeks covered in greying stubble, and the constant, pungent stench of sweat poorly disguised by cheap cologne. He’s huffing heavily by the time he reaches you. “Where the fuck have you been, eh?”
Sorry,” you say, tongue thick and dry in your mouth as you try to speak. “I didn’t know we’d already—”
“Bull-fucking-shit, I say.” His hands are for once out of his pockets, and he points his dirt-stained finger towards a Barrington Freight truck that had just entered the building. “Get to work or you’re out — both of you.”
Without another word, you scurry to the truck with Cam on your tail. Cam, who is entirely unbothered by getting chewed out by the boss. He digs something out of his teeth with his little finger and shakes his head as he approaches.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says and pulls you out of the way as the truck’s rear doors swing open. He pats your shoulder, much like you imagine a father would. “He pulls that shit every time you take a break. You get used to it.”
You glance back at Tomas, currently busy shouting at a truck driver with so much force you can see spit all the way from here.
“Come on,” Cam says. He climbs inside the cargo space and then offers you a hand that you gratefully take.
Multiple hours pass by in chunks of wrapping and piling and driving and avoiding the wrathful eye of Tomas. It’s monotonous work, work that will remind you of its price the following morning when you roll out of bed only to realize that your back is permanently bent in the shape of an S. But it pays the bills. Parts of them, anyway.
The truck empties slowly, and it seems to be matching up with your lunch break quite nicely. You can’t say you look that forward to fifteen minutes in the front seat of your car with a sandwich and a water bottle, but it’s still a little bit of breathing room.
Just a little further.
There are two crates left, both of them shoddily thrown together and just a bit taller than you, and if you weren’t a little bit superstitious, you might have even said they look like coffins.
You go to push one of them towards the forklift, currently operated by Cam, but stop as soon as you’re close enough to put your hands on the fractured surface.
The edge of the lid is slightly open, the nails still trying to keep it shut completely bent out of shape. Some of them are missing altogether. A thin crack runs down from the corner of the lid and ends right in the middle.
“Hey, Cam?” You chance a quick glance at him, just to make sure his half-open eyes are looking at you. “What do we do about this?”
He doesn’t ask what this is, doesn’t say anything at all, and instead clambers into the truck, absentmindedly scratching at the bald patch hidden beneath his cap.
“Ah, shit,” he says and wipes his forehead. “We gotta check for damage, make sure the goods are still good. If everything’s okay we just seal it back up and let it find its owner like any other package. Got it?”
“Got it.”
You don’t know if he’s talking protocol or if he’s pulling this out of his ass to cover for you, but you appreciate it all the same. Cam looks around for a moment and then hops back out of the truck. He returns with a banged up crowbar, nicked and stained by countless doors and boxes. Maybe even a burglary, who knows.
He turns around, looks both ways, and closes the rear doors behind him.
“You got a light?” he asks, and you quickly fish your phone from your pocket to guide him with its flashlight.
Cam dips the crowbar under the lid of the strange crate and places his foot carefully at the other end.
“Cover your ears,” he says, and you do as you’re told.
The wood cracks as the lid breaks into two. You watch the broken piece ricochet off the wall and clatter to the floor, right by your feet.
“What the fuck?” Cam whispers. He takes a cautious step back, the crowbar held tightly in his hands, pointed toward the crate like a knife.
You frown from your position a few feet away. When he doesn’t say anything further, you approach him, steps loud and heavy, heart fluttering with curiosity and a healthy dose of fear. You’ve known Cam for all of five hours, but you get the feeling that he usually doesn’t rattle easily.
You look inside the crate, and breath runs from you like a pheasant in the burning woods.
A corpse. Inside an obsidian coffin with a broken lid lies a beautiful woman, perfectly preserved. Her nose is straight and sharp, and the curve of it leads down to thick lips, painted dark crimson. Her skin is dry and cracked around her knuckles, and there are splinters under her long nails. Black hair cascades down her shoulders onto her preposterously detailed dress — an incredibly well-kept antique by the looks of it. Early 19th century, maybe? If it weren’t for the dried mascara on her cheeks, she might as well be a porcelain doll, posed and painted to perfection.
“Do you mind?”
Something shuffles beneath the wood, and small childlike hands reach for the splintered edge. Some far off place in your brain wants to warn her to not touch it, but you’ve long since lost contact with your mouth.
A doll nearly identical to the dead woman crawls into sight, its face twisted in frustration.
“Well, what are you staring at?” it asks. “How about a little help?”
You scream and lose your footing as you try to back away. Pain flares in your spine as your back hits steel. Your phone falls from your hand but the light stays on to coldly illuminate the insanity in front of you. By your side, Cam is like a statue of stone, with the crowbar now pointed at the little doll.
Beneath it, the woman creaks to life. A thin layer of dust billows forth as her hand rises slowly, reaching for Cam. Cam, who’s offered her a helping hand in return.
You can’t look away. You’ve never been the type.
The woman’s fingers curl around Cam’s wrist and she snatches a grown man off his feet like he’s made of thin air. A snarl tears from her throat when she opens her mouth and crushes his throat between her jaws. He doesn’t even have time to scream before his neck snaps, the crack soft compared to the moist crunch of the woman’s teeth — fangs sinking into him. The second he is dead, she pulls her head back, and slowly, as if she’s savoring the feeling, she rips off a piece of flesh and suckles it, her cheeks hollowing, and then spits it across the cargo space. In a flash, she’s back at Cam’s neck to nuzzle the spraying arteries, the mangled flesh, the red bone – almost like in prayer, like this is a holy gift sent from the gods and the only thing she can do is accept.
She licks his exposed jugular, dips her jaw into the crevasse of his destroyed throat, and drinks.
Cam empties of fluid in seconds, and his husk of a body falls to the floor with a hollow thud.
The woman lets go with a thin gasp. She wipes her eyes, wipes her mouth. Her hair is soaked, as is her entire face, and she leaves a dripping trail as she climbs out of the crate, red handprints sharp against its pale wood.
She smacks her lips and coughs, mouth downturned in disgust.
“Oh, ugh,” she says. “Anemia.” She blows a raspberry and shakes her head. “Fuck me.”
“Been there, done that,” the doll says, its plastic face dyed a deep, dark red. “You made a hell of a mess, there.”
The woman turns to the doll and makes a face — apparently one of offense, because the doll flips her off in return.
“You try doing this shit,” the woman says, and kicks Cam’s body to emphasize her point. A twitch shakes you from head to toe. “I haven’t gone this hungry since I had to flee the country in 1857.”
The doll imitates her voice mockingly, and the woman curses potently in return. She grabs a bunch of her soaked hair and twists it; a small puddle of blood forms by Cam’s corpse.
“Wait,” the doll says. “What about that one?”
She points at you with a tiny pale hand, and all heat escapes your body. Your fingers feel like blocks of ice as you try to crawl toward the rear doors. Pressure builds in your throat and your mouth opens in an involuntary, instinctual scream of terror, but before a single squeak escapes, the woman rushes you at unprecedented speed and slams your back to the floor. Air explodes from your lungs, and if it wasn’t for the woman’s hand firmly over your mouth, you’d be left gasping.
“I’m not sure,” she says. You whimper and try to free yourself, but her grip is like iron. You can only watch her, desperate, like a pleading mouse in the claws of a hawk.
She purses her lips and looks at you like yesterday’s leftovers. “I’m still a little hungry. But I don’t know if I want to finish this one so quickly.”
A hoarse wail slips past your lips despite the woman’s best attempts at keeping you quiet.
“Let’s take it with us, then,” the doll says, flipping its hair. “I’m down for some fun.”
“Maybe.” The woman turns your head from side to side, appraising. She lowers her face to your neck and your pulse picks up. Your breath quickens. Panic makes lights up inside of you like a flash fire. The woman drags her nose up your neck and places a sloppy kiss on your jaw, as if your fear only enhances her hunt. “I could go for a little snack, still.”
Tears burn your eyes and fall down your temples. The woman catches one, brushes it into your skin and then puts the finger in her mouth, her tongue peeking out to savor your fear.
“Don’t worry, little morsel,” she says, and boops your nose with her manicured nail. “You’re going to a good cause.”
You try to shriek past her hand but her hold only grows stronger as she bends over you and, despite your thrashing limbs, your punches and kicks and scratching fingernails,  she plunges her teeth into the side of your neck.
It stings, sharp as a needle, and then the rest of her teeth dig in, like a vice lined with rows of broken glass. What follows is the strangest of sensations. You’ve had hickies from past lovers, even been bitten by your best friend’s niece, but it’s nothing like this feeling of being drained, emptied like pulling guts out of a fish.
Your fingers claw at her face out of pure instinct, nothing more. She swats you away like a fly and continues, uninterested in your distress.
Your flailing weakens when your limbs grow heavy, like they’ve been replaced with brick. The woman’s hair is in your face, thick and wet and suffocating, and the only thing you can see is neverending black, like staring into a dead void.
You begin to grow still, only twitching when the woman’s teeth dig deeper for just a few more drops.
Wood cracks behind you. The woman pulls back with a deep breath, heady and broken, and turns to look at the commotion along with you.
The other crate, the identical one; its lid is in shambles on the floor, and a man climbs out.
He is short, with a stubbled chin and a pale brown coat, stained with sweat. You smell something acrid as he comes closer, pushing his cracked glasses up his nose.
“H—Help,” you whine through a mouthful of blood. You can barely lift your arm to reach for him. “Please.”
The man looks at you, looks at the woman, and curses in Spanish.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he says to the woman.
Darkness finally claims you.
You awaken, every muscle in your body sore and aching, in a beautifully decorated living room.
It is dimly lit with candles of wildly different shape and size, freely leaking wax onto the floor, the mantle of the fireplace and the coffee table. The walls are old and wooden, decorated with portraits of the people who must live here: a rich-looking family, blond except for the youngest son and the dog. Beside the paintings are thick curtains, their beautiful silk stapled shut to keep out the sun.
The sun.
How long has it been? What even happened?
You sit up with a groan, your head immediately protesting via a sharp blast of pain behind your eyes. The world flashes to white, then to black, and then finally fades back into view. Another pain bursts forth, this time on your neck, and you cover the spot with your hand, only to be met with a thick layer of bandaging.
You breathe in as deep as you can, and your throat burns, seethes like fire reduced to coals.
Thirsty.
So, so thirsty.
You swallow several times, but it brings forth the taste of vomit and inflames the pain in your mouth — in your teeth. Your canines ache like you’ve badly chipped them, but when you feel the tips with your tongue, they’re unharmed, if a little sore. And much sharper than you remember.
Something tickles the corner of your eye and you gently rub your lower eyelid. Whatever it is flakes off onto your finger. You blink away the spots in your vision and try to inspect the stain despite the dim lighting.
Blood. Long since dried, but impossible not to recognize.
You knead your whole cheek with the flesh of your palm and manage to scrape off a long stain that runs down from the corner of your eye to the top of your upper lip. Strangely, you can’t find the source of it. There’s no cut – you can’t even feel a bruise.
Something clatters in the distance, beyond a door to your right. You strain your ears for more, for footsteps or muffled words, but can’t hear anything but the ringing in your ears.
As gently as you can, you set your feet down on the carpet, soft and plush, and probably worth more than your yearly salary. You test your legs, put a little bit of weight on both of them. A twinge of pain, an echo of severe strain, as if you’d just fought off an intense fever, but other than that, you manage to stand up fine with the assistance of a decorative floor lamp.
You place your palm against the wall, firm and steady, and take a step, just to test the waters. Though your knees wobble and every moment of it hurts, you manage to get moving.
The doorknob is old and made of brass. Your heart is in your throat as you turn it, only to meet no objection. It turns smooth as butter, and the door clicks open, inviting you further.
Beyond, you arrive into a dining room. A massive table stands in the middle of the room, laden with plates and trays of food, all of it half-eaten, like the occupants had stood and left in the middle of dinner. Their forks are still buried in potatoes and steak.
The smell is a crooked kind of heavenly. You know meat, remember it. Your uncle standing at the grill, turning sausages; shepherd’s pie right out of the oven; chicken wings, covered in barbecue sauce. But the smell is off, as if you’d forgotten the fine details of it and could only sense a hazy memory.
Your nose leads you to the spot at the head of the table, furthest from the door you entered. The veal on this plate is half-pink, the way you’d never eaten it.
You don’t need a fork or a knife. You take hold of the nearest chair for support, snatch the meat from the plate with your bare hands and take a bite.
It goes down quickly, and you expect the satisfaction of a meal well prepared, but instead your stomach cramps and you heave, overtaken by nausea. The meager morsel comes up to stain the hardwood floor along with a splash of stomach acid, burning your esophagus like molten magma.
You stare at the mess, brows furrowed and your mouth open, drool still dripping off your lower lip.
Thirst strikes you as if you’re stranded at sea and you pick up a glass, half-full of wine. Usually, it’s not your drink of choice, but at this point you would drink gasoline straight from the pump if you could.
Your fingers tremble and the glass is at your lips, but your stomach turns — enough for you to gag and let the glass slip from your hand to shatter against the floor.
The sound, at least, is satisfying.
Another door to your right opens. You try to hide behind the chair, but your vision fills with dark spots again, and you sway, eyes barely open as you stare at the man standing in the doorway.
It comes back, then. Maybe it’s his cracked glasses, or the smell of viscera enveloping him, but you remember nevertheless.
A late night shift.
A crate.
Cam.
Sick burns the back of your throat all over again as you remember his bloodied corpse on the floor of the truck, staring at you with pale blue eyes, red-rimmed and frightened.
You finally fall to your knees, unable to keep yourself standing a second longer.
The side of your neck burns, and this time you tear at the bandage until it shreds to pieces. There, right where you remember the woman’s cold lips, is a bumpy scar in the shape of her teeth. It’s not as rough as you imagined it would be.
“That’ll be gone in a week or two,” the man says, nonchalantly. “You’ll be good as new.”
He sounds almost derisive. Like you aren’t worth his time. Like you’re beneath him.
A growl rises from your throat, deep and guttural. The tremble in your larynx is simultaneously foreign, like suddenly breathing fire, and as natural as breathing.
“You,” you croak, your shaking finger pointing at his out-of-season sweater. He looks mildly amused, and not even vaguely threatened.
“Oh, boy,” he says.
You leap over the table, dishes and decorations alike crashing to the floor as you clear the room in one single jump without an inch of wind-up. The man doesn’t even take a step back. You snarl and circle him, taking in his scent, the sweet ambrosia staining his plastic apron.
“Where am I?” you ask him. “What did you do to me?”
“I just wanted to take a bath,” he mutters to himself in a voice that should be far too quiet for you to hear. He reaches for his pocket slowly. Whatever weapon he has, you will not give him the chance to draw it.
You leap again with the full strength of your weakened legs, and hurtle right into the wall with a sharp crack as the man dances out of your way like water. He pulls a string of beads out of his pocket — to strangle you, perhaps? It doesn’t matter. He won’t live long enough to lift his arms.
You curl your fingers, claws at the ready, and soar towards him again with a hiss. He dodges, an infuriating smirk on his lips – one that makes you want to break his nose. He slaps something into your back: cold metal that instantly turns searing. You shriek, your hands flying to cover the injury. Your knees buckle, and you bang your forehead into the corner of the table as you go down.
The man comes to stand in front of you and lets the beads dangle by his knees. There’s a beautiful cross between the rosary beads. He must have stabbed you with it — but there’s no blood to prove it.
You pull your hand away from the wound, only to find no wound at all. Your fingers brush the bumpy ridges of a burn scar that’s already beginning to fade.
You look up at the man, confused.
“What’s happening to me?” you ask him. In return, he looks at you like you're an animal too fragile to put down. A chick that got under his skin before he could lop the head off. The man rubs his temple and pockets the rosary.
“Come on,” he says, and puts his hand around your arm.
“What?”
He painfully lifts you to your feet, and you growl in protest.
The man rolls his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”
You’re shown through a variety of rooms: a library, a sitting room, a music room, and then up the stairs and through a long, dark hall lit with more candles. Every curtain in the house has been drawn, and some of the windows are covered with newspaper.
You arrive at a door that’s identical to all the other ones: dark, wooden, and with an ornate brass handle. It’s the smell that’s different; sweet and rich and delicious, and it makes you fidget in anticipation as the man fixes his glasses on his nose and knocks twice, his knuckles sharp against the wood. The sound feels like an ice pick driven through your skull, hammered a good two inches in with each rap.
Muffled groans slip past the door, but no one answers. The man knocks again with a bothered sigh. When no one turns up, he opens it himself.
“Nadja?” he says, annoyed.
Your jaw falls open at the sight on the other side.
On the floor are three bodies, mangled and dried up like raisins. A middle-aged man, tall and lanky, by the upended desk and its former contents. Another man, shorter and stockier, spread on the stained satin couch. A woman, no older than twenty, in front of the massive bookshelf by the farthest wall.
In the middle of the twisted formation is the woman, the one who murdered Cam.
Nadja.
Her face is buried in another victim, a woman in her forties with red hair and a ripped safety-vest. Her glasses fall off her nose as you watch.
The man next to you takes a look at your face and scoffs. “Well, we couldn’t leave witnesses, could we?”
You wait for horror, for nausea and fright and all the things that come with seeing real dead people strewn on the floor of someone’s personal library.
It never comes, though. None of it.
You don’t faint in shock. You don’t scream. You barely feel grief as a thick, pungent veil overwhelms you, like the perfumed kiss of a lover pressed to your forehead. The corners of your lips lift, and you feel a little laugh bubbling in your throat, just like after two glasses of champagne on an empty stomach.
Nadja finally notices you two, and rolls her eyes. With a smack she releases the woman on her lap, who drops to the floor and begins to bleed freely into the ornate rug. It feels like a waste. You want to cup your hands beneath the tooth marks on her neck to save what you can.
“What the fuck, Guillermo?” Nadja says.
Guillermo points at you. “This guy finally woke up.”
Nadja licks her teeth, digging at a bit of skin stuck between her incisors. “Why is it my problem?”
“You’re the sire.” His voice is deadpan, like he’s stating the obvious. “You deal with it. I have my hands full with the shit you pulled back at the warehouse.”
Nadja groans like there’s a knife caught between her ribs. You wait silently, lost in the strange haze caused by the smell – and the faint taste – of the room. Nadja worries at her teeth for one more moment and then finally gets up.
“Fine. But just the basics.”
You feel her stare at you, but you can’t take your eyes off the woman slowly bleeding to death in the middle of the room. The burning in your throat grows stronger, brighter, and butterflies take off in your belly when Nadja comes closer and brings the smell of death with her.
She snaps her fingers in front of your face, and you return to your body. She sighs.
“You’re hungry, dumb-dumb.” She grabs the collar of your shirt to drag you into the room. The smell intensifies and you can’t help drawing in a breath so deep you feel your lungs might burst. Nadja stops and turns to Guillermo, who is still standing in the doorway. “What the fuck are you still here for?”
Guillermo looks like he wants to say something along the lines of fuck you and your mother too, but instead he offers Nadja a smile that doesn’t even remotely reach his eyes and closes the door.
“Good.” Nadja lets go of you and you stumble, still unsteady on your feet. “Now, how are you feeling?”
“What?” you ask her through the smell invading the rest of your senses. The burnt orange light from the candles fades into a vivid maroon, casting the room into pulsing shadows, the strongest of which keeps pulling you towards the syrupy fragrance stuck to the woman discarded by Nadja.
Nadja laughs, and you marvel at the sound. It’s harsh, like a swarm of bees or the screech of a cat.
“Weak in the knees? Little human tummy all upset? Feel like someone put you in one of those blendy things and drank you and shit you out?”
You tick every box on her list, slightly perturbed as to how she knew each one. She then looks at the drained bodies at your feet, specifically at the woman still gurgling only a foot and a half away from you.
“Thirsty?” she asks with a honeyed voice.
You nod, too much and too fast, and regret it immediately when lightning strikes behind your eyelids.
“I thought so,” Nadja says and walks to the dying woman. She drags her to you by her arms, and her pained moans sound like sirens beckoning you into the dark depths of the sea. Nadja appraises you for a moment, takes careful inventory of your clothes, your hair, and then purses her lips. “Have you ever killed anyone?”
Some semblance of fear finally seeps into you, and you watch Nadja carefully, measuring the distance between you. “No.”
“Shame. You look like you’d be good at it.”
Nadja crouches and grabs the woman’s chin to turn her head and expose the neck. It isn’t like in the movies, with two tiny round holes to mark the canines. The woman’s skin is rough and torn where Nadja’s jaws were locked before, both rows of teeth firmly sunk into the flesh. She’s beginning to empty; the tide of blood grows slower on her neck and her wet gasps for air are fewer and far between. Based on the gently rueful expression on her face, she knows the end is near as well.
It twists the tight coil of panic in your gut.
She’s going to waste.
Nadja rises to her feet with a grunt.
“I’ll help you, but only because you’re cute and it’s your first time,” she says. “Okay?”
“Okay,” you reply weakly through your trance. Nadja’s hands encircle yours and she presses her thumbs into your palms to pull you down to your knees with her.
Watching the dying woman’s slowly rising chest, with your hands upturned on your thighs, you vaguely feel like you’ve been sat at an altar of worship, to take part in communion of a different kind – the kind that Nadja beside you knows as well as a dead man’s flesh on her tongue.
Nadja takes your hand and places it behind the woman’s neck, slick with blood.
“Hold on tight,” she says and waits as you tangle your fingers into the woman’s hair. “The first time is the most intense — you’ll need the support. Don’t be afraid to break a few bones.”
Your mouth opens. The woman’s scent hits you like a mirror shattering, and you take a shuddering breath as you bend yourself over her. She coughs and wheezes, blood splashing from her lips, and she looks straight at you. Her eyes are the same shade of green as the calathea on your windowsill.
Nadja sighs. “Look, she’s going to die anyway,” she says. “Make use of her or don’t. I don’t mind a bit of dessert.”
But you can’t move. The woman is staring at you like a drowning mutt, and under her severe watch you can’t make yourself take the leap.
Nadja slides herself behind you and presses into your back, her whalebone corset pronounced against your thin, sweat-soaked shirt. The beads of her dress prick at you, but her breast is soft on your shoulder blade.
She grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes your head down. You inhale slowly, let the enticing scent of iron, of cypress and cherries reach the back of your mouth, and nuzzle the woman’s neck. Nadja’s fingers curl tighter against your scalp, and you finally feast.
The taste is inexplicable. Exquisite beyond your wildest hunger-ridden dreams. It reminds you of a hot summer day, at dusk when the sun has set but the air is still so humid you can feel it move on your skin; of the first autumn evening, when you get to dig candles from the back of your kitchen cabinet and put them by the window; of a winter morning spent indoors with your friends, bundled up by the radiator with a cup of coffee that’s too bitter to drink.
It is relief. It is frenzy. It is peace of mind. It is hysteria.
The accursed burning in your throat ebbs at last, and you hear yourself laughing around the human flesh in your mouth. Something tears, splits, and you move deeper in search of more, more; you bite, you suckle, you drink like it’s your last day on earth until your lips are wrapped around an empty, sunken shell devoid of life, and more importantly, of sustenance.
You finally let go, gasping for air as the woman’s body falls from your hands and onto the floor, her head thumping as it hits the carpet. You lick the remains from your fingers, tongue dipping under the nail so you don’t miss a single drop.
Nadja’s hand untangles from your hair, and her head falls on your shoulder.
“Good, right?” she asks with a sigh. “I still remember my first time. The 1600’s were something else.” She cranes her neck to see your face and slips her arm around you to wipe something off your cheek. Her fingertip comes away bloody, and you open your mouth, but she quickly dips it between her own lips instead. She laughs, softer and more languid this time, and shakes her head. “Someone’s eager. But you’re lucky — this one was the best of the batch.”
“Thank you,” you whisper. She looks at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.
“So you do have manners.” She huffs another laugh, and runs her eyes down your face slowly, from the arch of your brow to the curve of your chin. “Feel any better?”
“Yes.” The churning growl in your belly has been sated and replaced with a soft, heavy weight, a warmth that spreads all the way to the tips of your fingers. Your head has been filled with cotton and you have trouble keeping your eyes open anymore. “Warm. Good.”
Nadja smiles, wide enough for the tips of her fangs to peek from under her lip. “Sleepy?”
You nod, leaning too hard into the movement, and find yourself approaching the floor at an alarming rate. Nadja’s arm tightens around you, and she pulls you back until you’re off your knees and sagging against her instead. Engulfed by her sea of hair and the abundant layers of her dress, you wait for a reprimand with bated breath, but she lets you lie right where you are without a word. When you make the effort to look up, you’re met with her face, curiously watching you with a small and devious smile. Drops of blood are coagulating on her eyelashes, glittering like gemstones under the light.
“You’re beautiful,” you say, drawing your thumb slowly across her cheekbone. Nadja’s smile widens into a mischievous grin.
“I knew you’d be good at murder,” she says. “A little messy, but first kill is always like that. We’ll fine-tune your technique later.”
You finally let that champagne-laugh bubble over and it spills from your mouth like birdsong, bright and borderline hysteric. Nadja joins your laughter, and you both fall over to the squishy, bloodied carpet.
Your eyelids grow heavy as you float in the euphoria of feeling truly satisfied for the first time in your life.
"We're going to have so much fun," Nadja whispers. She brushes her hair off your face and kisses the curve of your jaw.
In the strong hold of her arms you let yourself sink into oblivion. Your dreams are filled with the sting of her knife-sharp teeth at your neck.
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laplacesdevil · 1 year
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OOPS. Wasn't able to finish this on time but! better late than never, eh? i still can't fucking believe. 5 years of baldi. good god. next you're gonna tell me he'll be 6 next year? good fuck....
...also came to my attention that i forgot johnny. i am so sorry johnny. as compensation, here's this little doodle
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scribhneoirtuirseach · 11 months
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I'll Let the Seasons Change My Mind (5/10)
also on AO3
featuring: Mama Mario, Papa Mario, Luigi, Bowser
wordcount: 1361
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It's another normal day in Brooklyn.
The streets are lined with brownstones and bustling with energy, blue skies littered with few clouds, and sun shining proudly above it. As close as one can get to Heaven, now that the Mario brothers have found their calling both here and in another world.
The Mario parents on the other hand, well… While they don't entirely understand the situation and what their sons get up to when they're gone, they're happy to hear of their success, so long as they remember to visit once in a while.
They do understand, however, that a now familiar trembling of the city means someone is on the way.
"I'll get food ready!" Mama calls over her shoulder, hands clapping excitedly as she rushes about the kitchen to put something together. "I wonder if they're bringin' that lovely princess again— Now there's a woman with confidence!"
"There's a cocky woman." Her husband argues from where he's been cruelly interrupted standing watching the TV. "Least she's takin' care of 'em."
"Mannaggia!" Mama scolds, checking out of the window and raising her brows at what she sees— Luigi, happily chatting away to Bowser from where he's perched on the King's shoulder. "It's the lizard…"
Papa huffs his confusion at that, making his way over. "We have plenty of lizards, Maria," One look out the window, though, and he's grabbing a pan to throw at the damned thing's head.
Luigi hears the whistle through the air and raises a hand, catching the handle before the impromptu weapon can meet its target. "Hah, must be cleaning out the place…"
Bowser grumbles, unconvinced. Luigi isn't the best liar. "We should go," He decides, eyeing the manhole they've just emerged from. "They don't want me here."
"Hey," The plumber frowns, tucking the pan under his arm so he can gently turn Bowser's head his way again. "I want you here. And it's only for a while— Promise. Then we can go back."
Turning his attention up to the window, he snickers at the sight of Mama holding Papa's ear, very sternly whisper-shouting at him.
"She might give you a chance, see?" Luigi encourages, ruffling that red fur. Sighing, Bowser raises his gaze to follow where his companion's looking, brows knit together tight. "She's the one that really matters, I wouldn't mind too much about Papa. He's, eh…" Grimacing, he makes a so-so gesture with his hand. Not the worst father, but certainly not the best. 
"An ass?"
"Just don't say it to his face and you'll be great! You've got this." He winks, before grabbing holding of the pan's handle and waving up towards the window. "Hey-o!"
"Hey-o!" Mama calls in return, very subtly shoving Papa out of view. "I'll bring the food out to you guys, don't fuss yourselves comin' in!" Good choice, until there's an appropriate entrance for Bowser.
Within minutes, they're all gathered around a table outside, Mama and Papa by each other's side and Luigi contentedly settled on Bowser's lap as he splits the offered food between two plates— Mostly fruits and greens, easy to snack on as they approach springtime.
"So," Papa begins, brow raising as he leans back in his chair. "Y'not destroyin' things anymore, eh?"
"Pa!" Luigi hisses, coupled with a light smack on the arm from Mama. "He's workin' on himself! Can't just be asking that…"
Bowser clears his throat, shifting awkwardly. "Kamek has been giving me therapy."
"You hear that? He's going to—" Pausing, Luigi hums as he looks back to the King, impressed. "That's a big move!" That… could have been made a long time ago.
"It's been offered over the years, I've only accepted recently." Bowser admits, head drooping a touch. 
"Better late than never, there's always time to improve." Mama nods sagely as she eats. "Our Lou used to be in therapy!"
"That was counselling, Ma. And it was school counselling, way different." Luigi shrugs, waving a hand as he focuses back on their plates and offers the fuller one to his companion. "They're more focused on gettin' you productive again, really, that's all they care about."
Papa snorts. "Stopped all the phone calls home, so they did their job either way!"
"You didn't want to hear about your son?" Bowser asks, slow and purposeful.
Mama and Luigi share a tense glance, but for now, let whatever's about to happen go ahead. Even grown men need to hear the truth sometimes. 
Papa splutters at that. "Of course! But not when it's all bad news—"
"So, you'd prefer not to hear of his struggles, and refuse the chance to help him with them as he's growing?" The King corrects himself, nodding. "I understand."
"Agh, he knows he can come to me if anythin's bad!"
"I don't and I didn't." Luigi retorts, gesturing with an unpeeled banana. "The talk with you was always to put my head down and focus on work— I did that, and you know how hard it is to focus when you've got people screamin' in your ears on both sides because you're every teacher's behaviour buffer, Pa?"
Bowser grimaces at the mere thought of such a punishment for being well-behaved. Human life truly isn't as simple as he thought…
"Ma was good, though, Ma said they don't know any better. She was right, they didn't, and that also took the blame off-a me. I couldn't rely on you for anything other than the roof over my head, Pa— And trust me, I'm grateful for that much, but you know…" Luigi shrugs, peeling his banana.
"It takes more to be a father." Bowser finishes for him, arm instinctively coming around Luigi as he watches Papa get up and excuse himself back inside in a huff. 
Letting out a whistle, Mama chuckles to herself. That'll be fun to deal with later… "You seem to know a lot about that," She offers as a new conversation starter. "Being a father, I mean."
Bowser manages a smile for the first time since they've sat down. "I have more than a handful of children— I'm not perfect either, but I do my best."
"I didn't know that." Luigi pipes up, though it clearly hasn't put him off judging by how he's grinning up to Bowser. "I know about Junior, of course."
"Then there's Larry, Morton, Wendy, Iggy, Roy, Lemmy, and Ludwig."
"Now that's a variety!" Mama smirks, leaning over the table. "How you gonna deal with them, Lou?"
"Ma!" Luigi whines, rubbing a hand down his face. 
"What? It's a valid question if you're gonna be sharin' a life, huh?"
Bowser's quick to step in for that, clearing his throat. "We haven't discussed that yet…"
"Looks like you should be discussing it now." Mama jokes, sitting back again. "I mean, seems like yous are attached at the hip already— And the only other person I've seen defend him like that is his brother… Wouldn't mind having a good lizard for a son-in-law."
"Turtle, Ma."
"Dragon turtle." Bowser further specifies before glancing down to the man, a fond purr rumbling through his chest. "Whatever he wants, I'll give him."
Looking up to meet his eyes, Luigi can't help a blush spreading across his cheeks. "Only you."
"And you already have me."
It's like there's nothing else in the world, just the two of them and their snacks— Until Mama squeals from across the table, hands clapping. "That's that, then!"
Later on, Bowser decides to drop Luigi off in the Mushroom Kingdom— He'll want to talk to Mario after that, no doubt.
"Thank you for bringing me home." Luigi chirps, even if he's a little unenthused about his feet touching the ground again. He really could get used to just being carried everywhere, safe on Bowser's person.
"Not at all." Bowser hums, gently pressing his snout against his cheek for a moment— A sign of affection, Luigi's learned. "About the kids… You don't have to worry about taking on responsibility with them. Like I said, more than a handful."
"I want to try." He reassures, smiling bright. "If there's anything I learned from how I had to grow up, it's that every kid deserves a chance."
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mad-maximoff · 6 months
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𝙎𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙮 𝙁𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙆𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧
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Oscar Isaac!DetectiveXReader
(I’m uploading the first chapter of this new series here and if you like it I’ll keep posting it! If not than it’ll stay on Wattpad🤭)
Summary: For 5 years, there's been a serial killer on the loose in New York. Homicide detective Oscar Isaac has been hunting this guy down since then. He is haunted by the female victims this animal puts in his path. He has the help of Cherry, a prostitute working the street. Can Cherry help Oscar catch the killer? Or will the killer consume Oscar?
Warnings: Language, talks abt murder (this chapt isn't spicy yet;))
Word Count: 1,043
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18 deaths in 5 years. I've been the lead Detective on the case since the first murder took place. All women. 9 of them were normal women off the street. 9 were hookers. Still innocent women. No matter their profession. It's been eating me alive.
"Ey yo hombre? Tienes gasolina eh?" I walked out of the bodega on 5th Ave in the Bronx listening to two guys conversation. "Compra gasolina, te refieres a hierba. Vamos a tener un problema." I took the first bite of my breakfast sandwich flashing my badge at the gentlemen who darted when I took another step. "Pollos!" I wanted action, they fled. Too many guys lean on my black beauty, sure, a 67' Impala is snazzy. You never anything like it around New York. My cases have been piling up at the station. All the same. Someone's mom, daughter, or friend goes missing. Then we find them in the alley. It's his same MO. The women are cut in pieces. Left arm gone, a part of their ribcage, and the cherry on top. The killer cuts a smiley face on the victim's face. Slits their eyes vertically and slices ear to ear across their lips. Reason's why we call him The Smiley Face Killer. A mouthful but it serves its purpose.
I arrived at the station as a rookie told me they needed me down at the morgue. "Jesus Sánchez, what do they get for me?" I threw my coat over my chair at my desk, adjusting my belt. "Another one. Number 19."
"For fucksakes!"
·:*¨༺ ♱ ☠︎ ♱ ༻¨*:·.
"Ey! How's my homie huh?" My closest and dearest friend Detective Pedro Pascal met me at the stairs. "Qué Pasa! The morgue still needing me?" I cocked my head behind his to see the morgue down behind us. "Nah, man! I already debriefed with the nerds in the freezer. Chick looked better in a paper bag." He joked hitting me with the case file in my chest. "Jesus man, have some compassion. Someone was murdered again." The slab to the chest winded me for a minute. I'll never admit he's stronger than me, but fuck did that hurt. "Oscar, come on. We have a really traumatizing career. We need to make light some days. Speaking of, are you going to the bar tonight? My treat. Bravest or McSorleys?" Pedro threw his arm around my neck as we both exited the morgue from the stairs.
"Nah, man. I'm good tonight, thanks for the offer though. I don't want to rub elbows with trigger-happy rookies. I'm up to my neck in paperwork this Smiley Face killer's gonna drown me."
"Fuck man...don't stress. Anyway, the girl lying on the slab had a lot of new info."
"Whatda you mean Pedro? New info?"
"Yeah, well, the chief said Smiley only hunts women in Manhattan, but most of the women were near the Lower East Side. Red light district."
"Hookers paradise, but what about the other women? You know? The non-prostitutes?"
"In kilometre radius of the Red Light. Besides, the two last calls the victim Rose called were Cate and Cherry."
"Jesus Christ, I know women of the night don't like to use their real names but damn! It's going to be like finding a needle in a haystack!" We both made it back to our desks and I slumped in my chair. I fidgeted in the pocket of my jacket to find my packet of cigarettes. I booted up my laptop to write all the information in the case file under this sick serial killer's hefty file. The question remains.
Is he or she after women because they have a deep-seated hatred for women? Prostitutes?
Pedro and I worked late into the night. Pedro was making calls. I wrote down the contacts in the newest victim's phone. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, it comes with the territory. Some tough phone calls home. With everything I do under this badge, calling a victim's family is the hardest. Screaming moms, muffled fathers' tears, angry siblings. You are either loved or feared. However, that isn't the reason I became a cop at first. I did it to somehow make a difference. It's cheesy. Every rookie says the same. To make their city and town better. Once you see the things I did you don't care if your doing the right thing. You just make sure you come home in one piece.
"So...Pedro! I searched up this phone number and this Cate number is linked to the red light district's top nightclub." I finished the last puff of my cigarette flicking the butt in my trash bin.
"Oh shit! Echo?" Pedro swiveled his chair chuckling to himself. "Haha! Where do you party? No. The Core."
"Oh hell no! That place is diamond tier man, you can't even get in the door unless you're screwing one of their girls."
"So is your mom available? I need to get in?" The eruption of laughter echoed throughout the station. Pedro's jaw flung open hitting his desk. "Haha! Go to hell! I'm just saying, the chick who owns the joint won't let cops in. Let alone a detective. The woman is disfigured. Cate Blanchett is terrifying." I turned my chair to back up my shit and call it a night. "Cate Blanchett? Where in the hell have I heard the name somewhere.." I whisked my coat off my chair. "Some of those young hookers we booked a couple of weeks ago spoke of Cate. Maybe Rose was one of her girls."
"So what is she a pimp?"
"I have no clue, Detective Isaac. Go home. You need the sleep."
"Uh-huh, that's what I'm doing tonight. Noche." I lit another cigarette pulling the door wide open.
"Buenas noches!"
There is only one person left on Rose's contacts. Cherry. I'll have to haul my ass to the red light district just to find this chick. This Cherry is one chick that will be hard to find. One drink might help me think of my game plan tomorrow.
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sunny-mercya · 1 year
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I can´t stop my love for you
Heiji Hattori x Male Reader
Fandom -> Detective Conan/Case Closed
Masterlist
The writing might look a bit rusty, because after good 5 years it is.
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                                  I can't stop my love for you,
You drove with your hand through Heijis hair, ruffling it up a bit. You always found it endearing when Heiji was sleeping. A rare time where he looked so relaxed and at peace with himself—his mind, which was plagued with; murders, corpses, solving cases and the daily stress of being a Teen. You fingers wander on their own for some time.
You gave him a peck on the cheek and freed yourself from his hugging arms around you.
Stretching yourself as you stood up, you walked towards the sideboard of your Hotel room. It was time to make some Tea, even if it would probably wake your Boyfriend up, but it was almost late afternoon after all. So it's justified in some way.
You hummed an songs tune, question it a bit to yourself why you were only wearing trunks and one of Heijis shirts. Which were just a tiny bit bigger than your size. Perhaps of last night? You vaguely remember to be carried
Heiji fully awoke from his slumber once the Kettle has been turned on. He was awake before but fall back asleep, thanks to your finger tracing. Which he found quite enjoyable.
Heiji sat up, ruffed his hair and rubbed his eyes. Getting the remaining sleep out. He watched you, how you swayed a bit and hummed some song.
For a second he narrowed his eyes. Despite what happen last night, due his own—selfish—foolishness, you seemed to be fit enough again. Which reliefs Heiji but also makes him worry.
»Aah, your already awake. Here a cup of Tea for you, would have make Coffee for us, but Tea sounds better.« you smiled at him, giving him the Cup and turned around. Started to pick up the discarding clothes on the floor.
Acting so causal as if nothing had happened and something uncomfortable stirred inside Heiji.
»You really need to start to pack some hoodies too when we go on trips. Honestly Jiji, your jacket alone doesn't count. Ya know, we will go shopping for some hoodies later and I will pack them with my stuff the next-«
»Why?«
Heiji couldn't understand it. Why weren't you angry at him? Could you even be angry? Yes, of course, he saw more than once your anger. But did he ever saw you being mad at him? He couldn't remember.
Heiji put down his, still untouched, Teacup on the nightstand. You turned to him and when he saw the slight confusion on your face, he elaborated his question.
»Why aren't you angry with me? I've stood you up on our date again, even when I gave you the promised that I wouldn't. So why aren't you angry?«
You sighed, putting all the clothes onto a Chair and walked towards your Boyfriend. In a swift motion you straddle his lap.
When you cupped his face and give him such an gentle smile, Heiji felt even more worse than before. The only thought, besides this lingering guiltyness he had— was how he didn't deserve you at all
»Oh Heiji, for such an Great Detective you aren't as clever when it comes to such humane things.« You pecked his forehead.
»I was angry at first, at you, when we started dating. Getting stood up on dates is never an pleasant feeling, even now, sometimes and than that anger turned to myself, for having my hopes up.
But with time I understood, understood that being an Detective comes with great responsibility and with responsibilities comes compromising.
And if that means never having a proper date, so you can solve cases—than I'm okay with that.
Because you solving cases means the world will be a bit safer and I believe that's more important than dates. Eh yes yes, of course, a date sounds romantic and I'm a sucker for that, but doesn't mean we have to or need it.«
You weren't even sure yourself, if your explanation to his questions makes sense. It does for you at least, in some way.
You kissed Heiji on the lips,
»And now a simpler answer; Heiji, I love you for what you do, for who you are and not for the dates we could have.«
Heiji knew he was an selfish man, for always priorities crime cases first. It was selfish of him to ask you for your forgiveness, whenever he stood you up or left you behind on a date, too.
He knew he wasn't such a great boyfriend as he believed he was. You deserved better—there were plenty of suitors, more capable than he was, for you; Hakuba for example, his rival in many ways, was one of those suitors and hell, even Kaito Kid could be a far better choice than himself.
And still, even after everything and all those times, you choose him over and over again.
»How can I be so lucky of deserving you? Because I think I don't.« Heiji whispered those words, not trusting himself to say it loud enough, fearing it could mean the end.
»Funny, because I'm asking myself that question too. Of how can I be lucky to have you.«
This time it was Heijis turn to kiss you on the lips.
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                      Because this heart belongs to you and only you.
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awarriorqueen · 3 months
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Devil May Cry 5: My Review 😈🔥
Here is my final stream of  DMC5 & my final stream of the Devil May Cry series 😈
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Before I properly start this review, I think it’s important to put my playthrough history into proper context: I'd been waiting to play DMC5 since 2018 when I first saw the E3 announcement and felt even more excited for it when I played the DMC5 demo. 5 years of anticipation for this game—but why did it take me so long to get to it?
Well, while I did attempt to play DMC1 in late 2018 to get familiar with the franchise, I never finished the game that year—I was handling post-traumatic depression, friend & romantic relationship breakups, and major life changes, sooooo I had a lot going on at the end of 2018 and the beginning of 2019 lol—although I will say that video games helped me get through those days…just not scary or difficult ones I had to play on my PS2 (like DMC1 lol). and then after I finally got myself a PS4 to play KH3 right when it came out, I didn’t want to buy both KH3 and DMC5 at the same time (could not justify spending that much money on 2 new games) so I decided to wait to play DMC5 until it went on sale—but I still felt like maybe I should play other DMC games before that. 
So it wasn’t until 2020 that I bought DMC4 for a steal of $8 and played one mission and liked it, but then i thought ‘well, I have all the other dmc games on ps2, so maybe I should play those first.” well…I didn’t end up doing that lol because I didn’t really have a good setup to play ps2 games and I was too lazy to try and work around it and not feeling that motivated to play the DMC series when I had a lot of other games to get through—so fast forward to October of 2021, I thought about a fun spooky game I could stream that month, and I had fun my first hour of playing DMC4 and I knew it was Nero’s introduction to DMC, and therefore a precursor to DMC5, so I figured “eh, why not?”—and the rest is history. DMC4 became my game of the year for 2021 because I fell in love with Nero and with what an incredible and fun gameplay experience DMC4 was and I was even more eager to finally get to DMC5 💕
While I could have continued on to DMC5 right after (and my own brother, a big DMC fan, told me I didn’t have to play the other DMC games to do that), I still felt that I needed to go back and play DMC1-3 because I barely had context for who Dante and Vergil were, except for the ¾ of DMC1 that I played (and I stopped right before we got the vergil is nelo angelo reveal! lmao so I really had no context for who vergil was 😂) Anyway, after having so much fun with DMC4 I wanted to play the other games before I went into DMC5 so I could be familiar with the lore and characters because I felt like it would make for a better game experience—AND—GENUINELY—HOW DID ANYONE GET MUCH OUT OF DMC5’S STORY IF THEY HADN’T PLAYED THE OTHER DMC GAMES??? 🙃
So you know how 2023 became the year of Devil May Cry for me, and I decided to play through every single game to finally get to DMC5 (which I did buy in 2022…but it just sat on my tv stand bookcase for almost a year lmao). I enjoyed DMC1, not as much as DMC4, but more than I enjoyed the disaster that was DMC2 lmao, and then I played DMC3 which made me shout ‘WE ARE SOOO BACK’ in my first stream of that game, and it felt closer to the chaotic, hilarious, cheesy, ridiculous plot, fun gameplay, and the emotionally charged character journey of DMC4. I didn’t replay DMC4 because I was already late for my October deadline to get to DMC5 lol but recapping the game through a ‘movie’ watch reignited my love for Nero and then I was so fucking ready for DMC5!
I was also—thanks to people spoiling this on the internet with fanart years ago—excited/hoping/dreading to find out the answer to this question (which a friend posted in the livechat during my recap of DMC4 aslkdhfasg):
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And it was a very exciting beginning to DMC5! I was so happy to play as Nero again, even though he looked a bit different (I miss his prettyboy look 😢), and even though there was a lot to get used to with the gameplay—and I was playing a DMC game on normal mode since my very first failed attempts at DMC1 and DMC3 D:--I really enjoyed how fun and ridiculous this game was from the jump and how I was miraculously getting through normal mode and pulling off special moves, now having veteran status as a DMC player ✨ but the story was….lacking a bit in its depth and pacing of the "telling," which I understand after having played the rest of the DMC games lol but DMC4 gave me hope that we’d at least get more Nero character growth. I also really enjoyed the addition of Nico, who became more than a hot bisexual comic relief character (can  you tell I like her? 😳) and a godsend every time she showed up and nearly killed Nero or V with her driving skills lol
It was kind of refreshing to not have to play as Dante since I had just played 3 games as him, although I never really got used to V’s fighting style and…lads, I called that V was Vergil within like the first 15 minutes I played DMC5 😂 it was just too obvious, but having multiple possibilities of who could actually be Vergil (and being right about both of them) it was fun to poke fun at ‘V’ and wonder just…why...at all the character design/fashion choices and motivations…and then about halfway through this game when Nero became a devilboy-in-distress…I stopped having as much fun.
Don’t get me wrong—I thought Dante’s style was fun, a little overwhelming tbh—and it made me howl with laughter every time he got a new ridiculous weapon upgrade, but…this was the same shit as DMC4—where Nero had to be sidelined only to get rescued by Dante, and then it became clear that DMC5 wasn’t actually about a new story; It was about feeding DMC3 fans their nostalgia pills, and then the rest of the game just became the Dante and Vergil show again while Nero’s story and motivations faded into the background—and in the very end…he didn’t save himself.
We only got to play one more mission as Nero after his rescue, and even the reveal of Vergil being his father was…so understated. Part of that because Vergil barely cares, part of that because we never get a full story of how Vergil became Nero’s father and—MF NERO DOESN’T EVEN KNOW WHO VERGIL IS BEFORE V TELLS HIM DANTE HAS A BROTHER 😂 so like. so much for a reveal that doesn’t even mean a lot to the characters who should be impacted by it :/ if anything, it’s a weird mind trip for Nero that this guy V he’s been working with for a month is actually a guy called Vergil who ends up being his biological father, whom he has zero relationship with—and he had yet to express ANY feelings in-game about who his biological parents are before this reveal even happened.
And in the end, it didn’t even feel like an important plot point, so much as an add-on after Dante and Vergil met up for a monumental rematch at the end of the game to call back to their feud in DMC3. and then, instead of spending time on Nero regaining his devil power in a way that would have required the player to battle through more obstacles, instead of getting to explore Nero’s feelings about Vergil throughout a few missions the way V’s feelings about his mother and Dante were explored, we get a cutscene of a 1-minute phone call to Kyrie (who never shows up onscreen btw) in which Nero seemingly for the first time brings up his childhood trauma of being an orphan but Kyrie’s simple words of ‘you always know the right thing to do’ + deus ex machina not only help Nero resolve his trauma and complicated feelings (??? five minutes of even knowing Vergil is is father) and he resolves to save both Vergil and Dante and grows a human arm in the process??? then we get a super easy boss battle against Vergil, and while it was great to press L1 just so Nero could yell ‘FUCK YOU!’ to Vergil and call him a fucking asshole for underestimating his strength (and for stealing Nero’s arm…although that doesn’t really get expressed) and then THAT’S IT. THAT’S THE END OF THE GAME.
it was just a weirdly anticlimactic ending.
Nero literally just went home after watching Dante and Vergil hop down to the underworld. even the credits fight sequence felt lackluster. in dmc4 it was exciting because we had just saved Kyrie and Nero finally got to have a sweet moment with her accepting his demon form after previously fearing him for it…and it was sweet that it turned into a protect Kyrie level which was so unexpected and fun! In contrast, the credits battle sequence in dmc5 was boring. Nero was alone. He was OP. what did I have to feel triumphant about this time when I didn’t even earn nero’s ‘victory?’ and if I didn’t feel triumphant about anything…how was I supposed to have fun?
it was just the first time I finished a DMC game and felt…unsatisfied.
the best way I can describe the way I feel about DMC5 is…well, a little R-rated lmao but like… it genuinely felt like being in bed with someone and having a pretty good time when you started out and most of it was good, but then when you started getting a little bored and wanted to speed or heat things up so you could reach climax, your partner decided to climax early and left you hanging and unsatisfied while they rolled over to fall asleep—and that pretty much ruined the entire experience and made you forget you even had fun at first alkdshags
I think what disappoints me the most is that I truly started my DMC series playthrough with DMC4, and I think that is still the DMC game that has the most heart. I think DMC1 has a bit of heart. I think DMC3 has heart. Hell, even DMC2, as shitty as it was to play, had a narrative that went full circle at the end and had a bit of heart once I watched the cutscenes on youtube. But DMC5’s ending felt…hollow to me.
What was I supposed to get from this cheap victory for Nero that I as a player didn’t even get to earn on my own? (and fyi I think it would have been better storytelling for Nero to learn to live with a disability/the devil arm and see that his strength and power still is in him without the physical thing--rather than just grow a normal human arm back out of nowhere)
What am I supposed to feel about the ‘reveal’ that Nero is Vergil’s son when these two characters have no history with each other and both have very little emotions about this revelation?
What new emotion am I supposed to feel about Vergil and Dante fighting each other again for the dozenth time over the same mommy issues they’ve had since DMC1? They finally evolve to ‘actually i fight you all the time because I like fighting you’ but…that’s it? that’s all the development they get? V’s existence and story was interesting—but that also got cheapened after it changed barely anything for Vergil in the end, and after it didn’t really change things for any other character.
I think narratively, it was a mistake to give the latter half of this game to Dante, just like what happened in DMC4—because then Dante became the main character again…even though his whole motivation was just rehashing the same storyline in DMC3 (stop Vergil). Furthermore, Vergil’s own motivation was….stupid lmao and I had hope that once he was starting to decay as V and opening up to Nero about what he really wanted all this time (to be loved)...we just dropped that?? it never got picked up??? which seems like something that should have been readdressed after both Nero and Vergil found out they were father and son???? 🙃
I almost would have preferred if DMC5 didn’t have a storyline for Nero lmao because it was just fumbled so badly in the end. anyway, i’m tired of going in circles about this in my head, trying to reconcile what seemed like a really fun romp of a game at first that ultimately disappointed me in the end and left me wanting more.
FINAL NOTES
This was my first DMC game that I actually beat on Normal mode, so I feel like a champ just from achieving that :’D
Even with how bad the storytelling was, I have to laugh at anyone who says not to play the other DMC games before DMC5 because…this entire game was built around calling back to older DMC games and the creators really wanted you to care more about Dante and Vergil’s rivalry than anything else in the end (including Nero, their advertised main character 🙃)
I think people love this game for different reasons, and if you liked it purely for gameplay, then yes, it was a very good game! but if you’re like me, and wanted something out of the story after waiting so long for the followup to DMC4…it was a bit disappointing. I think this just means I’ll have to replay DMC4 sometime soon… and I think that might still be my favorite DMC game ❤ it might be an unpopular opinion, but it’s still the DMC game that gives me the most joy! DMC5 will probably be the game I replay the most after that, though—and I’m curious about playing Vergil’s route in DMC3, so that could possibly be my 2024 spooktober stream…
Anyway, what a ride it has been playing the Devil May Cry series! Overall I really enjoyed my time with it and there were a lot of things I didn’t expect going into this series (like how much it would make me laugh or scream), and I feel like I probably became a much more skilled gamer playing through it lmao and I became a tiny bit less of a scared baby about scary video games. and as much shit as I gave DMC5 and I give Vergil…I do think all the characters are interesting and amusing—but they really need to do better by their women characters. that never really got better throughout the series and I wish Lady, Trish, and Nico had more to do than just hang out in a van for half of the game when they’re all badasses in their own right. And poor Kyrie not even getting a game-model, just being a stay at home tradwife who only calls Nero to tell him to come eat dinner and to be his emotional support in a situation she has literally no context for when Nero tells her about what’s going on asdlfkhasdlgl
FINAL FINAL NOTE: is it too much to hope for a DMC6 or another spinoff where Nero can be the main character in the latter half of the game he’s supposed to be the star of?
p.s. now that I can address it--I was spoiled about Vergil being Nero’s dad before i even played DMC4 thanks to people posting fanart and memes like right after DMC5 came out lasdkfhasgs although after playing dmc4 and that not coming up at all…going into all the other dmc games knowing this fact, wondering who the hell Vergil even is, waiting to see this ‘cool’ mysterious character and to understand the implication of him being Nero’s father…I didn’t really get any answers until I played DMC3 and when I finally ‘met’ Vergil, I FUCKING LAUGHED. I couldn’t believe after years of peripherally seeing hype and buildup for this ‘cool’ character, it was just Dante’s twin brother with an attitude problem and not much else personality, and he seemed like a total fucking nerd who got duped into helping some creep open a gate to hell—and I was just like..this is Vergil? this is your king???
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I really don’t want to believe this is a serious video and I am genuinely convinced everyone who says Vergil is ‘cool’ is playing a big collective joke on anyone outside of DMC fandom 😂
like i’m sorry this man is the most pathetic dumbass loser (affectionate) in this ridiculous series—and on that note, I have no interest in fanart of Vergil being a good young dad to Nero because that is completely out of character for this deadbeat lacking social skills and emotional intelligence who said ‘my son means nothing to me’ and 20 seconds after said ‘nero is my son?’ aldkfhasgag
I truly don’t believe Vergil has ever fucked, and since we STILL do not have any confirmation that Nero actually has a mother…it’s still more in the realm of possibility for me that Nero is actually a weird mystical clone of Vergil rather than something that resulted out of teenage Vergil having sex with a human woman because….who would? sldfkhdasg
okay, i’m done for real now. time to go make fanart now, bye!
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harmonyindark245 · 1 year
Text
One Last Time [Chapter 2]
Summary - Elain and Azriel have known each other since they were 11 and had never been separated. But when their view for their future no longer matches, things break apart between them, causing a rift which had never been fixed. Elain goes on to become a neurosurgeon, while Azriel works for the deadlier part of the community. Ten years later, their lives get entangled as they cross paths, this time stakes much greater than just their hearts.
An: All characters belong to Sarah J. Maas
Warnings: Mature language, violence, alcohol consumption, smoking, drugs
Hope you all enjoy!
Masterlist
Songs:
Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve - Taylor Swift Not In The Same Way - 5 Seconds of Summer Only You - Cheat Codes Ft. Little Mix
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Elain stood in front of the mirror, looking at her own reflection. 
Who is the woman behind the mirror? Elain wondered. Was it Elain Archeron, a neurosurgeon completing her residency? Single mother? Graysen’s fiancée? Or a simple girl who got her heart broken by the man she gave the most to? 
Elain shook off her thoughts as she ran her hand over her dark blue dress. The dress was truly beautiful. 
Daemon was waiting for her outside in the foyer, sitting on a seat while Mrs. Pumphrey, his nanny, tied his shoelaces. He looked at Elain and smiled in amazement.
“Mommy you look so pretty!” Daemon exclaimed. Elain laughed slightly at the statement. 
“Thank you. You look mighty handsome as well.” She crouched in front of him and fixed his tie. 
Elain went in search of her phone only to see a lot of missed calls from Lucien and one from Graysen. There was also a message that said, ‘We’re waiting downstairs.’ from Graysen. 
She grabbed her clutch and took Daemon downstairs after checking if she had everything. 
“Oh my Goodness Dae! You look so good in a suit!” Lucien’s voice came as Daemon rushed towards the car. “And did you make that tie all by yourself?” 
“Uh-huh.” Daemon said as he showed off his outfit. “Momma looks good too, right?” 
Elain ran a hand down herself and Lucien shrugged. “Eh, I’ve seen better.” Elain gasped and hit him on the shoulder and Graysen laughed from behind. 
“Ow, what the fuck Archeron?” Lucien exclaimed while rubbing his shoulder. 
Graysen wrapped an arm around Elain and kissed her on the temple. “You look marvelous.” He whispered softly in her ear. Then he clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s go people, we can’t be late.” 
Lucien and Daemon spent the entire ride singing along with the songs playing on the radio while Elain looked outside the window, watching the streets of Velaris pass by.
She remembered wanting so badly to leave Velaris and explore the world when she was a kid. After Daemon, all those wishes lost meaning and the only thing she wanted was to provide her child with all the happiness in the world. She was all alone with Lucien when she had Daemon. Lucien’s father, Helion, was a professor at the institute and had helped her manage through college. He had done more than Elain’s actual father had ever done for her. 
When they finally reached, Graysen held his hand out for Elain to grab onto. “Why don’t you go inside, I need to talk to Daemon.” At Graysen’s look she added. “Just to remind him of what not to do.” Graysen nodded reluctantly and went inside, leaving Elain outside with Lucien and Daemon. 
She knelt down and fiddled with Daemon’s hair. “Now, promise me you’ll stay with Uncle Lucien and listen to him.”
Daemon and Lucien looked at each other and sighed. “Yes Mother.” Both of them whined together. Elain shook her head and stood up to her full height. 
Lucien grabbed her hand as she was about to leave. “Ellie, whatever happens tonight, just remember that I love you. Both of you. And it’s all for your happiness.” 
Elain was unable to comprehend what this statement meant. Lucien took Daemon and went inside, leaving Elain standing outside all alone.
~~~~
Azriel was going to murder someone. He despised interacting with anyone other than necessary and attending a ball was one of his worst nightmares. Added to that was Cassian who was driving him batshit crazy with his useless conversations. 
Both of them were waiting for Rhysand’s contact to meet them. Rhys apparently had someone on the inside who was going to help them get close to Graysen’s fiance and her son. 
Cassian nudged him with his elbow. “See anyone you like?” At Azriel’s ignorance he further continued. “Come on man. This place is filled with ladies. Single ladies, divorced ladies, ladies who want to cheat on their husbands with sex gods, you get ‘em all.”
Azriel looked straight ahead as he replied, “Why don’t you volunteer?”
“I’d like for my balls to stay exactly where they are, thank you very much.” Cassian shivered as if he were imagining his wife’s reaction to even the thought of him cheating. Azriel smirked. “Plus, you really need to get laid. I can’t even imagine how miserable your hand would feel.” 
Azriel picked up a glass of champagne from a server passing them by. “Why don’t you put me out of my misery and blow me.” An old woman who had been standing near them gasped in surprise and Azriel gulped down his entire drink. 
Cassian just smiled apologetically at the woman and glared at Azriel. “I don’t swing that way Batman.”
Azriel had been observing the patrons around him when Cassian nudged him again. Azriel gave him an irritated glare. “There’s our guy.” 
Azriel looked up to find Lucien Vanserra walking towards him, but that wasn’t the major shock. No, what caused Azriel to freeze in his place was the little boy walking behind Lucien who looked exactly like Azriel had when he was a kid. 
Azriel kept staring at the kid as he walked in his direction. Finally he snapped out of his daze when Lucien Vanserra stood in front of him, blocking his view of the kid.
Lucien noticed the glare he was getting and raised his hands in surrender. “Do not take this out on me.” Azriel was about to lunge forward when Cassian held him back. “And don’t make a scene.” Lucien added. 
“Vanserra…” Cassian warned. 
Lucien sighed. “Look, this isn’t something that I should be telling you, okay? I’ve made your job easier by already having the kid whom I’ll hand over to you when you leave. You need answers, you ask his mother.” After a pause, Lucien looked straight into Azriel’s eyes. “But promise me, you won’t hurt her, hurt them. And listen to her side of the story, okay?” 
Azriel continued glaring at the man as Cassian knelt down to talk to the little boy. 
“Hey! I’m Cassian Knight, what’s your name?” Cassian held his hand out. The boy looked towards Lucien, who nodded slightly. The boy smiled and grabbed Cassian’s hand. 
“My name is Daemon Archeron and I am 10 years old.” He shook his head and then added. “Well nine years and ten months, actually.” 
Archeron. Fucking Archeron. 
Cassian smiled at the kid, talking about the ball. Azriel was floored at the boy’s name. He left the group to go directly towards the bar. He ordered a whisky which he gulped down and asked for another, his hand clenching around the glass tightly.
It was a cold winter day, the last before christmas break. The final period before school was shut for three weeks. All the highschoolers were anxious, waiting for the bell to ring. 
“Alright kids, I know you’re all eager to be let out of this ‘cage' ” The teacher started, “But before that, I have a tiny project for you.” All the kids groaned, including Elain which was unexpected. Azriel turned around to look at her with a raised brow and she narrowed his eyes at him. 
“What? I’m just excited for break.” She answered innocently. Azriel held back a laugh as he knew exactly why Elain was excited. Both of them, along with her sisters and his brothers, were going to spend the time out at Rhys’ mother’s cabin. 
“It’s a small project. I promise.” Their teacher continued. “You just have to think of what your perfect future would be. Write a small paragraph describing it.”
Azriel glanced back at Elain suggestively, who blushed at his insinuation. 
After class finally got over, Elain told Azriel what she wrote down. “Well, my perfect future is where I am a doctor, you are doing whatever makes you happy and we are together.” 
“Really?” Azriel asked.
Elain shrugged. “Well, there might have been a bit more, where I went on to describe the exact kind of house we have,” She walked forward and turned around towards Azriel, continuing to walk backward. “Which will obviously be on one of the most beautiful beaches in Adriata.” 
“Obviously.” Azriel echoed. 
“And, there may or may not have been an Aston Martin involved.”
Azriel shook his head. “What is it with your obsession with Aston Martin?” 
Elain’s eyes widened. “Other than the fact that their cars are amazing?” She stopped as Azriel cocked his head to the side. “Fine,” She grumbled. “It was Edward’s car and now I’m obsessed.” Azriel laughed at her. “Just be glad that my Selena Gomez shrine is not going to be in our bedroom.”
Azriel continued walking to his car where he took Elain’s bag from her and placed it in the back seat after opening her door for her. 
“Something tells me I shouldn’t let you open doors for me as it’s not very feminist. But then I look at that backside of yours and I ignore that voice.” Elain said as Azriel sat inside his car. 
“Wow, so I’m just a piece of ass, huh?” Elain shrugged and laughed at Azriel’s expression. 
“So,” Elain started as they were on their way. “What did you write down?” 
“Nothing much. Almost the same as you. You’re a doctor, neurosurgeon to be specific, because we both know you love picking other’s brains.” Elain gasped dramatically. “I would probably be doing something either math related or something to do with computers. And we’d live in a nice comfortable house. And yes, an Aston Martin, which I probably would’ve gifted you,” Elain added a ‘Doubtful’ which Azriel ignored. “But it won’t be a sports car type. It would be one safe enough for Daemon.”
“Salvatore?” Elain asked questioningly. 
Azriel gently flicked her bangs as he parked. “No dumbass, our son. Daemon.” He looked at Elain before adding, “Or any other name you like, but I’m partial to that name. For a boy. Don’t want our daughter to end up with a name like Daemon you know-” Elain had pulled him towards her and gave him a deep kiss. 
“I love it.” She whispered with a smile. “But if it’s a girl, I choose, okay?” 
He leaned his head on hers and kissed her. “Okay” He kissed her again. “Stefanie sounds nice though.” 
Elain groaned. “I knew it.” Both of them laughed as they continued kissing each other. 
“He’s a great kid, you know.” Azriel came back to reality as Lucien sat down beside him. Azriel slumped down in his chair, releasing his death grip on his glass. 
“He’s mine?” Azriel asked in disbelief. Lucien nodded. “Does she still hate me?”
He gave Azriel a wistful look. “Only she can tell you that.” 
“She’s gonna hate me more after today, isn’t she?”
He patted Azriel on the back and went back to where Daemon and Cassian were still conversing. 
~~~~~~
Elain walked into the great hall where the ball was being held. There was a huge chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. Just under the chandelier there was space left for people to dance. In the corner of the room, there was a chocolate fountain along with a stack of champagne flutes. There were various tables set out and two bars each on the opposite corner of the room. 
She looked around to find Graysen standing amongst a group of men. Graysen caught her eye and beckoned her over. 
“Aah, Elain sweetheart. Thank you so much for joining us!” Graysen said overenthusiastically. Elain tried not to roll her eyes as he placed a kiss on her cheek. “Gentleman, I want you all to meet Elain Archeron, my fiancée.” All the old men raised their glasses in greeting and Elain smiled shyly.
“You never told us how beautiful your fiancée is, Graysen.” An old man lightly reprimanded Graysen. 
Graysen looked at Elain with affection. “Sometimes I can’t fathom how beautiful she is and thank God for giving me a chance with her.” Elain tried to return the affection as she moved closer to Graysen. 
A man wearing a beige suit asked, “What is it that you do?” 
Elain was about to answer when Graysen spoke up. “Oh, she’s completing her residency. A neurologist.”
“A neurosurgeon, actually.” Elain said. 
Graysen looked at Elain before smiling. “Ah, well doesn’t make much difference, does it.”
The man who asked the question was laughing. “Graysen, you better keep up, wouldn’t want everyone to know your wife’s smarter than you are.” The other men also started laughing. Graysen tightened his hold on Elain’s waist and she squirmed uncomfortably.  
“Why don’t you go sit with everyone else’s wives?” He whispered in her ear. Elain knew it was a dismissal and smiled at the men before taking her leave.
Elain, however, did not go to the wives’ table, instead she went to the bar and ordered a Jack Daniel’s for herself. Elain looked around the room and saw Daemon and Lucien standing with two other men whose backs were turned towards her. She seemed to think there was something very familiar with the two but before she could guess further a hand came and grabbed her glass. 
“What the hell!” She stood up, only to find Graysen glaring at her. “Why’d you take my drink?”
“I don’t need you drunk at this, okay. You need to be level headed if you want to be seen at my side.” He answered.
Elain was about to argue when she felt the presence of another behind her. 
“Let the girl enjoy her drink, Graysen.” Behind her, an old man with dark hair and dark eyes smirked at Graysen. Elain looked towards Graysen who had slightly paled. 
“I didn’t know you were attending today. I thought Rhys was sending one of his representatives.” He said as his voice shook. 
Elain felt slightly queasy as she realized who that man might be. “My son and I don’t exactly share our social calendars, something I’m sure you would relate to.” The man looked at Elain. “Won’t you introduce me?”
“Sir, this is my fiancée, Elain Archeron. Elain, this is Mr. Knight. He own’s Knight enterprises.” 
“Well, to be frank my sons keep it going. I’ve just lent them my name.” Mr. Knight added with a smile that rivaled Rhysand’s. 
“It’s very nice to meet you Mr. Knight.” Elain said, shaking his hand. 
Mr. Knight gripped her hand tighter. “Archeron, huh? Both of my daughter-in-laws are Archeons. Any relation?” 
Elain let out a chuckle. “I’m pretty sure you’re talking about my sisters, Nesta and Feyre.”
Mr. Knight smiled at Elain and something in it made her feel slightly uncomfortable. “Well, good luck Graysen.” He patted him on the shoulder. “And you too Elain. You never know when you might need it.” He raised his champagne flute and stalked away from them. 
Graysen grabbed Elain’s shoulders. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that both of your sisters were married to the Knight family?” 
Elain’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know until yesterday! We were close to the Knight family but you know well enough I haven’t actually talked to my sisters for the past ten years.” 
Graysen tightened his hold on her. “The Knight family is fucking important. They are the ones that would be willing to do anything for power, including hurt you and Daemon.”
“Why would they hurt us?”Elain asked as she tried to get out of his hold. “What just because you might be rivals in business?”
“No. Rhysand might think he has the world fooled by keeping up with the clean act but everyone knows it’s a cover. At least his COO doesn’t pretend he’s not dangerous. He’s the one you need to stay away from. Azriel Knight has no limits when it comes to giving pain.”
Elain stood shocked. “Azriel Knight?” 
“Yeah, why, you know him too?” He let go of her shoulders. 
Elain shook her head. “No. I don’t know who Azriel Knight is.”
~~~~
Azriel was on his fourth drink when he got a message from Rhys asking about the mission. After that there was another one that instructed him to take the girl and kid to their winter cabin in the mountains. Azriel slammed his phone down on the counter in annoyance. 
He just knew that Rhys would’ve probably known everything, yet still, he chose to send Azriel in blind. 
He hadn’t seen Cassian since he had left him with Daemon. His son. Azriel still couldn’t believe it was possible. Another thought crashed into him. Elain would’ve been pregnant when she had left. She probably had been all alone during the time she needed the most support. He couldn’t imagine how Elain must’ve felt to be all alone in a new place, pregnant with the child of the man she hated. 
Azriel looked around the room when he finally saw her. Elain Archeron. She looked breathtakingly beautiful in her blue dress. She was talking to a group of females and was smiling at something they said. 
Azriel gulped as he took her in. He couldn’t believe that after ten years they were finally in the same room and they couldn’t be with each other. 
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” A voice came from beside him, causing him to stiffen in his seat. He turned to look at his adoptive father nursing his own glass, his eyes stuck on Elain. 
“Good evening Sir. I didn’t know you were still in Velaris.” Azriel mentioned quietly. There were few who got to call him by his name and Azriel and his brothers had not been one of them. 
“You might be incharge of a lot of things now boy, but I won’t dictate my comings and goings to you.” He answered sourly. “I always thought that it would be Rhys who would lose his heart in love.” He mused. “Cassian was more likely to get kicked in the balls. But you, I never expected you to be the prey of love.”
Azriel didn’t move a muscle not wanting to give away anything. “What is it in that Archeron beauty that has you Knight men trapped?” 
“She’s just an assignment.” Azriel managed to utter. “I’m not 17 anymore. I know better.” 
“See that you do.” Azriel’s adoptive father got up with that and went back to the crowd, where people had started dancing. Azriel couldn’t help but wonder if he had just been threatened. 
~~~~~
Elain had been sitting at a table filled with housewives and gossip queens when Lucien showed up beside her. He offered his hand. “May I have this dance?” All the other ladies at the table giggled like little girls.
Elain made a face but took his hand and he led them towards the dance floor. They found an empty spot and started dancing to the music. 
“Where's Daemon?” She asked softly, looking around.
“Oh, he’s running around, wreaking havoc.” Elain gave him a stern look and he chuckled. “Don’t worry, he won’t do anything. He’s in safe hands.”
“And whose hands would those be?”
“A friend of mine.” He answered evading. Elain was about to ask more when Lucien spun her around and let go of her completely. She was about to trip when someone caught a hold of her. 
She looked up at the person who helped her but stopped at the sight of mysterious hazel eyes. He pulled her closer to him, gripping her waist tightly as he started swaying them to the beat of the music. He smelled like night chilled mist and cedar. Exactly how he used to smell ten years ago.
Elain was too dumbstruck to speak. His hazel eyes looked into hers, as if searching for an answer to an unsolvable question. Without realizing, both of them moved closer to each other, more than appropriate during a dance. 
She moved her hand down from his shoulder, touching his arms. She dared herself to speak. “Azriel?” It was so soft, she didn’t think he even heard her. But he inhaled sharply, as if he were in pain. 
Elain moved to get away from him, lifting her hands off of him. He didn’t let go, though, his hazel eyes still pouring into hers. She felt her heart beat increasing and it got difficult to breathe.
Suddenly a loud sound rings through the area. At first there was complete silence, when suddenly a man behind Elain fell to the floor and she saw a bloodstain forming on his shirt.
That was when the screams started. 
~~~~~~~~
The sound of the bullet brought Azriel out of his trance. “Shit.” He muttered as he saw the man drop to the floor. He looked up and saw panic forming on Elain’s face. 
He grabbed her forearm and rushed her away as more gunshots rang through the room. 
“No, let go of me! I have to get Dae-” She broke in between and glanced at Azriel before trying to escape him. 
“Stop, Elain!” He whirled her around to face him, grabbing her by her shoulders. “Elain listen to me! He’s safe, okay.” When he saw she wasn’t pacified, he looked at her solemnly. “I promise he is safe. I’m taking you to him, okay.” 
Elain nodded after slight hesitation. 
“What are you doing here?” She asked when they reached near the parked cars. 
Azriel was saved from answering as a blur rushed past him and grabbed onto Elain. “Mom, where were you? What’s happening?” The little boy asked frantically. 
More screams came from inside and Azriel shared a look with Cassian. “Take both of them to the car and if I don’t come back in ten minutes, drive off without me, okay?” 
“We are not leaving without you. Just hurry up.” Cassian told him. “I’ll ensure that Elain and the kid are safe.”
“What? No, I need to go to Graysen. And Lucien.” Elain started protesting. Azriel shot Cassian a look who nodded in return, grabbing Elain’s hand tightly and pulling her away with him. As soon as they were out of sight, Azriel rushed back inside the ball room.
~~~~
“Cassian what the fuck is going on?!” Elain shouted as Cassian dragged her away from the commotion. 
“Elle-belle, you know I love you, but would you please just stop struggling!” Cassian exclaimed as he kept tripping over and prevented Elain from running away. 
Finally, they reached the car and Cassian opened the door before pushing Elain inside. From the other side, Daemon obediently sat inside. 
Cassian gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry.” Then he slammed the door and locked it. 
Elain widened her eyes and tried to open the door which wouldn’t budge, even after unlocking. 
“CASSIAN KNIGHT DON’T YOU JUST LEAVE ME HERE!” She kept banging the door but Cassian shrugged before running to where Azriel had gone. Elain screamed once again before giving up. 
“It’s not gonna work, mommy. He probably used the child lock.” Daemon spoke from beside her. Elain sighed as she remembered her son was also stuck with her. She looked at him, who was smiling reassuringly. “But don’t worry, I don’t think Uncle Cass is gonna hurt us.”
“Uncle Cass?” She questioned.
Daemon grinned. “Yeah. Uncle Lu introduced me. And then he told me to call him Uncle Cass instead of Mr. Knight.” He then frowned slightly. “But who are these men? Especially the other? You seemed to know them.”
Elain hugged her son. “Daemon, I know this is all very confusing, but I need to tell you something. I have two sisters, and Uncle Cass is married to the elder one.” 
Daemon looked up from where he had rested his head, “Really?”
Elain nodded. “Yeah. And the other man, he was a very special friend of mine.” She cupped his face between her hands, tears streaming down her face. “He’s your father Dae, Azriel Knight is your father.” 
~~~~
Inside was complete chaos. People were running here and there, pushing and tripping each other, all just to reach the exit. 
Azriel pushed past the people and finally managed to get inside the hall. He found cover behind the bar and looked around for any attackers. 
He peeked at the room where things had considerably become quiet. Suddenly a bottle behind him burst. He instantly ducked back. 
Azriel looked around him to find something useful when he found a silver serving tray. He raised it slightly to look at the position of the person shooting at him. 
He saw the person reloading his gun and took advantage of the distraction. He aimed and shot the attacker directly in the head. He rushed towards the man, checking his pockets for anything. 
Azriel found a wallet and was about to inspect it when heard the sound of a gun cocking against the back of his head. 
“Drop your gun and get up.” The man said in a slight accent. 
Azriel raised his hands and stood up slowly. He turned around to face the man who was smirking at him. 
“Who sent you here?” Azriel asked. 
“What matters is, Azriel Knight, is that we’re going to ruin you and no one will be able to stop us. First we’ll get your pretty girl, then your son and then every single one of your brothers. The real ones and the adopted ones.” 
A gunshot rang through the room and the man in front of Azriel slumped down. 
“Took you long enough.” Azriel remarked. 
Cassian put his pistol back in his blazer pocket. “Yeah, well your precious cargo was feeling particularly stubborn.”
Azriel glared at him before he quickly checked the second man and found an iPhone along with a burner phone. He also remembered to grab the wallet he found from the first man. He pocketed both and ran out of the hall towards the parked car area. 
Cassian threw the car keys back at Azriel as he sat in the passenger’s seat. Azriel rushed into the driver’s seat and found Elain sitting behind with the kid leaning on her, observing Azriel quietly. He got in and drove away before any authorities showed up.
~~~~
An hour into their journey, Elain finally spoke up for the first time. “Where are you taking us?” She whispered it as Daemon had fallen asleep beside her. She looked ahead and saw that Cassian was asleep as well. 
“We’re going to our winter cabin.” Azriel answered, not looking back at her. 
Elain’s eyes widened at the mention of the winter cabin. It was Rhysand’s mother’s cabin and they would usually spend their winter vacations there. It was also where they had always celebrated Azriel’s birthday. 
She glanced down at her hand where Graysen’s ring rested. Ten years ago, Azriel’s ring had been in its place.
She cleared her throat and avoided looking at Azriel. “Why are we going there?”
“To keep you safe.” 
“From what?” 
“I don’t know.” He answered unhelpfully, taking a turn and stopping the car. Elain looked outside to see the cabin, already lit up from inside. She had a sneaking suspicion that she knew what would be waiting inside for her. She also knew that she was not prepared for it at all.
~~~~~~~
Let me know what you think!
Next Chapter - 18th November
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ramblingaboutglee · 1 year
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Getting pissed off by Glee IKAG years on
 Am I late to the party? I feel like I am. Oh well I’m here, I’m gonna vent, sit down and pour yourself a drink and let’s get to it. I guess I’m doing this. 
Basically, this is me trying to take this episode, look at the justifications, and comprehensively complain provide a thorough, reasoned critique so that I never have to think about it again. 
Trigger warnings for discussion of homophobia, outing, and brief mentions of attempted suicide
Season 3 is my favourite season of Glee, just to set the context. I’d say that’s a controversial opinion, but from what I can gather Glee fandom doesn’t actually agree on anything, so hey. Every character gets something to do beyond sit in the background, there’s a lot of good arcs, good ship content, fantastic songs, better jokes, stronger pathos, better ongoing storylines... 
And then Santana gets outed. The one saving grace is that it just lasts for an episode, so you can grit your teeth and not need to deal with a long-term mess. But yeah, here we are. 
The Beginning
So let’s set the stage. Santana is, admittedly, harsh to Finn for an episode, and he retaliates by outing her. I’ve seen some commentary trying to downplay this and... eh, no. “Everyone already knew,” clearly isn’t the case when there were actual, direct consequences to Finn yelling that in the hallway. So, that happens. 
I... don’t hate the idea of that storyline, but there’s context, and that context is that it’s 2022. I watched Glee this year, not when it was first on. I’m existing in a time where if I want to watch a show with queer characters, I have options. So tackling a more serious, dramatic topic is not outside of Glee’s wheelhouse, and nowadays that being dealt with as a plot, and not put out of reach, feels reasonable. 
But at the time? I cannot comment on that, just by my perspective, but having one of the biggest, and only, lesbian characters on a mainstream show outed feels like it carries significantly more weight that I simply cannot grasp. It goes from being ‘one story of many’ to ‘the story.’ 
So, we’re on dicey ground to begin with, though ground that will inevitably lack the same impact to me. 
The Problem of Finn Hudson
So, Finn outs Santana. A lot of what I’ve seen indicates this made the character irredeemable in a lot of people’s eyes. I want to try and slowly untangle this. 
So, in a vacuum... okay, he messes up here, but so does every character in Glee. This is the same season where Quinn tried to steal a baby. If it was just this, maybe in a better-handled episode, would people react the same way to Finn, or would he be forgiven in the same way Santana seems mostly to be forgiven for threatening to out Karofsky in season 2? Brushed off as ‘They matured’ or ‘Glee continuity is a mess and I do not acknowledge the bits that interfere with my enjoyment of the characters.’ 
Maybe, maybe not, that’s going to be personal. For me, like I said I inevitably lack the level of reaction to the plot that original viewers would have had. So, sure, for the purposes of this essay, let’s say I could forgive Finn if it was just this. 
It’s not just this. And that’s where one problem really begins to rear its head. 
In season 1, Finn hurls a slur at Kurt. And sure, Kurt wasn’t exactly coming off great before this, but it sets the tone. When Finn’s angry, he’ll cross lines there’s no need to cross - he could have yelled any number of insults, called Kurt a creep, but no, he went for a homophobic slur. But okay, jock teenager in a small town, it’s a mistake that can be made without active malevolence. Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. A week later and he could have learned.
First of all, context. In season 1, Burt chews out Finn for this. In season 2,  Burt walks it back and brings up Kurt’s dubious behaviour, as though that somehow implies ‘Yeah, he got mad, used a slur, it happens.’ And in season 5, rather than not bring it up at all, it’s mentioned again as ‘oh, no, Finn was completely in the right to act like that.’ We’ll get back to this in a second. 
In season 3, Finn outs Santana - he gets angry, and uses her sexuality as a weapon against her. He says the one thing he knows could hurt her, and it does. 
Which sets this in stone as not a one-off ‘mistake,’ but a pattern of behaviour from Finn. 
Finn faces no consequences, not in-universe, or in the narrative. When Finn messes up, the narrative will bring up said mistakes and walk them back, treat them as less of a big deal - some of this, I imagine, is dealing with fan reaction as Glee was clearly aware of its fanbase. Kurt comes off unsympathetic in S1? Okay, call that out. That’s good, so what happens when Finn messes up? 
In season 4, Santana calls up Finn to help deal with concerns regarding Rachel’s boyfriend. (Also Finn assaults a sex worker, smooth. Yes there’s context, I don’t care I’m being petty right now). This would be a good time to have Santana maybe be wary, a quiet “Look, I still have issues,” a follow-up in the same vein as Burt walking back his comments on Finn’s slur-usage. But nope, nothing, Santana and Finn are friends apparently. No complication, no drama, no acknowledgement of fan outcry. 
Finn messes up, does something awful, and the narrative refuses to call him out on it, and yet it will acknowledge other fan complaints if it means Finn gets to look better. 
So, yeah. I was pissed off even with all my context thrown in. I cannot imagine what this must have been like at the time. 
There’s a clear double standard here, and it’s a problem. It’s hard to really engage with the plot without noticing a major disconnect between not just how the characters react vs how they ought to, but between how each character involved is treated by the narrative. Santana deserved and deserves so much better than she gets here. 
The end result, even if we ignore the character favouritism, is a lack of closure - and while that may not be inherently a bad thing, in this case I feel it very much is. It feels unintended, and it feels like anyone frustrated or angered by this decision goes ignored because with no consequences and no resolution, there’s nowhere for that anger to go. 
And for the final cherry on top of context, I Kissed A Girl is episode 7 of season 3, in which a character gets outed. Seven episodes later, episode 14 of season 3, is On My Way, in which Karofsky deals with the consequences of being outed with significantly more gravity. Yeah. Not something you can just brush off, Glee. 
It’s Not About You
I Kissed A Girl, the episode tackling the fall-out of Santana being forced out of the closet, is not about Santana Lopez. 
That’s baked into the episode from the get-go, and it means it’s dead on arrival as a compelling story. I wish I knew what the heck they were thinking. But yeah, that’s where we are, so let’s look at it.
The titular storyline is one of several in the episode. We have the student council storyline continuing, more of Puck and Shelby, and then we have the Glee club facing up to what happens. And it’s Finn insisting everyone sing a song to cheer Santana up, despite her evident discomfort, so 10/10 there for ignoring her boundaries twice over. 
But yeah, it’s about Finn. Everyone comforts Santana, and we get none of her reaction, none of her thoughts, just her eventually accepting the comfort - naturally, Finn’s comfort - and happy ending? Somehow? 
Santana’s subject to homophobic harassment, and we get the title song sung by the Glee club, and it’s one where Rachel headlines because it’s about the club’s reaction to having a lesbian member. Yeah, the lead up isn’t even Santana getting a biting remark, it’s the Glee club banding about her. It’s not about Santana’s reaction to living with this, it’s about how good everyone else is to help her. 
There’s not really any denying that Glee is heavily inspired by the kind of inspiration porn rep of, for example, disabled characters in other media - that kind of thing runs throughout all of Artie’s story and the initial depiction of Becky, and there was a Rachel episode in season one, etc. It’s one of the throughlines, and it’s hard to not see the similarities here - when a character departs from the ‘typical,’ the plot isn’t about their life, it’s about how everyone around them reacts and deals with having them as a friend. Glee has rep, and in a lot of ways it is groundbreaking rep especially for the time and honestly, to a degree, even nowadays. But that comes packaged with the fact it’s representation from an outside perspective. 
This isn’t about the outed lesbian, it’s inspiration porn for the people around her, convincing them all to come together. The parallels stick out to me. Rather than give her a story, she’s used for the benefit of others, from Finn, to the rest of the club. 
And it’s a genre that has been rightfully criticised time and again as ultimately just using the people it professes to lift up. 
Okay sure, let’s talk about song choice
Glee recontextualises songs all the time. One of the highlights of season 1 is Kurt’s rendition of Rose’s Turn, a song from a musical whose title is a slur and isn’t that just on-brand for Glee at this point? In the musical, it’s sung by an overbearing mother whose daughter’s basically had enough of her. In Glee, it’s sung by a gay kid scared he’s not enough for his dad. Totally different context, and meaning... and it works. 
So taking Katy Perry’s ‘I Kissed A Girl,’ a song about kissing girls for the attention of boys, surely this is something Glee could put in a new context? The lead-in to the song is the Glee girls defending Santana, and responding with “We don’t care if you think we’re gay, that’s not a bad thing,” and the show at least is conscious enough to keep the ‘Hope my boyfriend doesn’t mind’ lines out of Santana’s mouth (and in Rachel’s which is. unintentionally hilarious but hey). So that’s that, right?
God, I wish. For starters, it just feeds more into the issue of ‘the episode is not about Santana.’ The focus is so completely on the rest of the club and how they deal with being friends with an out lesbian and, y’know, not the lesbian herself. And even without that not-so-minor detail... Yeah, this song has way too much baggage in the queer community to ever use in this context, god no. 
I don’t know what was happening behind the scenes. I want to say it was the network pushing them to include a massive pop song with a sapphic title, there’s definitely a lot of points where the network clearly pushed for a chart-topper, but I can’t say for sure. 
This is not a song Santana should ever have sung. 
And it’s not even my least favourite in the episode. For that, let’s check in again with one Mr Hudson. 
I can mount a half-hearted, not-remotely-sufficient defence of the thought process behind I Kissed A Girl. I cannot even begin to fathom how ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ not only made it into the episode, but got treated somehow as an emotional moment, or even somehow Finn’s apology. Full props to all the actors involved for somehow staying in character. 
(Tangent: props to Blaine and Kurt. Perfect both fills the role of being a comfort-song, and “Welcome to my silly life,” is a great lyric for the situation). 
But no, it’s this song that somehow has Santana feel touched, somehow? The song that offers no comfort, has no relevance, and if you try to make it relevant it just comes off as Santana just being belittled for several minutes straight. ‘Having fun’ is not the turn of phrase to use. 
Which exposes the flaw of the episode all over again - Finn shouldn’t be the one to reach her. People talk about Brittany needing more of a role, and yes that as well, but Blaine and Kurt feel like a good choice as well. Kurt left the school because of the homophobia, he’s maybe not going to know exactly Santana’s experiences, but he’d be in her corner. There’s a lot of people it could be. But no, it’s Finn, the one that outed her, because it’s his story - it’s his ‘redemption’ arc, with Santana as a mere step on the way. 
I guess, for completeness’ sake, I should talk about Constant Craving. It’s a fantastic cover, and I know some people object to it being juxtaposed with Shelby, but my take is more than it’s Santana’s midway point. I think it’s easy to view her as still not completely sure or comfortable yet - she’s had a heck of an awful episode, being forced out the closet isn’t going to make anyone comfy, and ‘craving’ isn’t necessarily the word one goes for when one is totally confident and content with one’s own desires. From that perspective, I have no issues with it. I just wish Santana got a follow-up. Plus, y’know, an episode of her own. 
The saving grace isn’t so good
As I said at the start, the saving grace is that this is only there for one episode. You can forget it ever happened easily enough. In the long run, this isn’t even the arc that bothers me the most in the show - because it’s one episode. Bingewatching, as I did, it occupies such a small amount of my overall time with the show. 
As an episode, there’s plenty of stuff that isn’t dealing with the mishandled plot, good song covers, fun character beats for everyone else. It’s just that none of it has anything to do with Santana. As an episode, on its own merits, it isn’t my least favourite of the show at all - but that storyline, and how it’s handled, is undeniably one of the nadirs of Glee. 
Which for me, is kind of the whole problem. I like this season, and part of the reason I do is that the worst parts, for me, occupy so little time. And at the same time, part of what makes the worst parts as bad as they are, is precisely because they occupy way too little time for the show to do them justice. 
You can forget it ever happened, if you want. That’s the honest truth. Glee, as a show, often does use its heightened nature to get away with ‘Don’t necessarily take this literally.’ If you did, I’m pretty sure every character ought to be in prison. There’s a wealth of things that don’t get treated with the seriousness they really ought to be - let’s not forget Sue threatening to pull out Artie’s teeth at prom, that happened. The show will take physical violence seriously sometimes, and not at all others, and that’s just part of Glee. So if thee’s a scene or stretch that genuinely makes you feel uncomfortable, Glee brings with it the easy option to just deny it and file it away with the crack houses and sex tapes and supervillain cats. 
If you treat the episode as nothing but a bad taste Tina dream sequence, absolutely nothing about the rest of Glee is affected. 
That’s what makes S3 still bearable, to me. And it’s also the biggest condemnation you can give it - this isn’t a one-off joke, this is a major point in Santana’s arc, a topic Glee itself acknowledges later can be life-ruining especially in a town like Lima, and it’s brushed over. Forgotten about. There’s no closure for viewers that identified with Santana, no sign of this being acknowledged as the big deal it was, and ultimately it gets treated with as much significance as that time Blaine made a sentient puppet. 
Santana can be cruel, and she was to Finn. The worst thing she said, he’d likely forget about by the end of the day. The thng he did in response could get her killed - something Glee itself acknowledges several days later. 
Blithely forgetting and moving past this is not something that should be expected. And yet it’s what the show does. 
So that’s my IKAG rant to join what I imagine is a long tradition of similar vents. 
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mysynthfetish · 3 months
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Ups & Downs, Mostly Downs.
I sold it all. At some point way back around late April, I just felt like I never wanted to set eyes on a piece of gear again and I sold just about everything I owned. There's an empty A-frame keyboard stand, an empty Apex 3-tier keyboard stand, a mostly vacant 7U rack with a Roland 1U line mixer in it that the aux doesn't work. A KPR-77 and a DDD-5 hiding under a pile of stuff in the corner. And the HS-80 I chop shopped. Everything else, gone. I dunno what did it. Depression. Lack of motivation. Changing mindset. Laziness. Honestly, I hadn't touched anything really, at least seriously, in an "I'mma produce something" kind of way for well over a year. Just half-heartedly poked at stuff then turned it off after letting out a great big sigh. So it went.
Eight months later, after the death of my father, and a lot more heavy mental baggage type stuff, I found myself itching to make music again. The iPad an KORG Gadget wasn't cutting it. Don't get me wrong, I played a live set in Osaka two years ago using just that and it went off. I wanted something a bit more, I dunno, substantial? And with more synthesis power? So I bought an MC-707. Haven't really done much but scratch the surface and noodle around but I'm impressed with the Zen-core or whatever they're calling it. Glad to see the D-50 DNA is still there (four partial synthesis engine) and the Zenology plugin editor makes sound design a shit ton easier. So we'll see where that goes. I also had the itch for a vocoder, so....
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Couldn't leave well enough alone, had to change out the LEDs before I even tried it out to see if it worked or not. That green theme Roland is going with gags me... Looks better in red. If I have half a mind I may attack the MC-707 but I dunno. The LEDs were the super tiny ones, 0603 size if I remember right. SMALL AS FUCK!
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Had to use 303 eh? Heh. That's the one under the Robot pad. Literally smaller than the graphite tip on a pencil by half. DO NOT SNEEZE. But I have a tool which I may have talked about that made removing these a helluva lot easier, el-cheapo made in china hot tweezers!
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Got these for around $50 or something off AliExpress, I think. Sometimes the ends don't meet up, so you have to open and close them again. Definitely not made in Japan quality, but nowhere near the price either. Ah well. Today I meant to bring liquid solder in a syringe, which makes soldering the LEDs on super easy but noooo like a dumbass I forgot, so it was back to the old slow way... put solder on the pads, tin the LEDs (NOT EASY!), heat one pad, slide the LED on (using tweezers), then hit the other side. Time consuming but it worked. Hmph.
Anyway. It hasn't been an easy year at all. I've seen better times. I've had better years. Trying to bring 2023 to an end on a brighter note. Hope you guys out there are doing well.
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urlocalterrorist · 1 year
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Why aren't you scared of me?
Assassin reader x Tanjiro
Reader's pronounce: female (she/her)
(Y/n) is part of team that calls themselves the "light foxes". They promised to the people of their country that they will punish every criminal on earth, for the name for their God. But all they do is condemns and suspects kids, man and women, for crimes they never did. After that they kill them. In front of the sun. (Y/n) had enough. She can't see the inosent peoples dying faces anymore. So she turn against her own kind. She is no longer a light fox. No, no, she is the shadow, that drowns the light, the wolf that kills the foxes. It's been exactly 3 years she killed everyone of them. And now she wonders the land of Japan. Hunting down demons fun. She is almost at the point to became a hashira herself. But would she be able to keep herself under control?
Warning
This series will contain: Violence, Gore, dark themes, Reader has blood lust, Reader has no control over herself, Psycho/Yandere like behavior, Stalking
If you're uncomfortable or sensitive any of them above, please search for a nother blog or read this series with your own risk. You've been warned.
Editing T-cat is here
I am not dead! I know it's been a ver very very long time but i couldn't write anything bc 1 i forgot about tumblr 2 school didn't let me and 3 my mental health droped to the lowest and i couldn't do anything at thia point. But i'm finally back to continue writing for yall!
Editing T-cat is out
Chapter 4
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"I will defenetly catch you off guard and defeat you! Kamaboku Gonbachiro! I will defeat you!"
"My name is Kamado Tanjiro!"
You didn't listen further to the two boys conversation. It's been a While since you 3 started walking. The scar on chest didn't made anything better, in fact it made everything even more worse. Every time you taked breath there was a sudden pain in your chest, if not you had to stop for a while to pull yourself together.
Tanjiro's crow led us to a house with the crest of a wisteria printed upon the door. at this point you thought you ganna pass out again in front off the door. "CAW REST REST!!! THE INJURED WILL REST UNTIL FULLY HEALED!!!" finaly. "Eh? We can rest? Even though I did fight demons with wounds this time..."
"Kekekee"
"kekeke you say..."
Then the door opemed, and an old lady stepped out. "Coming" Tanjiro's eyes widen a little before he spoke "Ah! So sorry to disturb you so late at night."
"It's a monster, a monster!"
"She is no monster she is just an old lady...." you said trying to calm the blonde down but it seems like it's not ganna happen anytime soon.
"Hey you!" the fird boy called as he went closer to her and started pocking the old lady's head as she spoke "You're demon hunters right? Please come in.."
"It's high-key sucks to be you guys."
"You talking? You literally have a huge scar on your chest and even had Internal bleeding."
"At least i don't have a cracked skull on my face and 4 broke ribs at the same time." I said in a mocking tone as i stared at Tanjiro's box. That box something that sure has so far sleeping. "You two should apolo-"
"I refuse" you two said it at the same time, but Tanjiro insisted until it was time to eat. You undid your masks bottom buckle, and lifted it up, so you could eat, without revealing your face to anyone. Thought it was more off a chaos than you expected it to turn out. Inosuke wanted to pull your mask off every 5 seconds, until you decided you had enough and eventually just stopped having a meal with everyone and went to eat outside alone in peace.
Thought before you leave, you could seance Zenitsu's aurora change from calm to mad. You didn't think much about it until you came back to the room after you mealand asked Tanjiro "Tanjiro I want to ask you something even though nobody asked yet. What are lugging around a demon for?" You almost lost your mind as you stared at Tanjiro, and the box, quietly grabbing a hold on one of the hidden karambit you had up in your sleeves.
"Zenitsu so you knew all along. Were you protecting me because you knew. Zenitsu you are a really good person. Thank you." Zenitsu fell the ground and role around "You! Since you've already praised me like that I can't do anything!!" then Tanjiro explained how he has a sharp noise and continued to praise Zenitsu until that demon started to move inside the box.
Zenitsu started to panic and you stared to get ready for an attack, getting ready the 7 from of your breathing style as Tanjiro tried to calm both off you down. The box door opened, tanjiro had to hold you back with all his strength, so that you wouldn't kill the demon, or she?
Tanjiro called out for the girl who's name was 'Nezuko' as finally stoped, slide the karambit back to your sleeves, you didn't needed further explanation as you could feel both from his and her aurora that they are related to each other somehow. Zenitsu than wanted to murder Tanjiro out of jealousy if you weren't there, he stoped when you send him a death glare from the end of the room.
You run, for your life in the cold forest, as you've found a frozen river with a water fall as your best friend attacked you. It was only the two of you at the selection, and both of you knew, that only one of you could get out of there alive.
You doged all her attacks and kicked her in her jaw, causing her to fall on her knees before you called out to her. Wait what was her name again? "Stop! It doesn't have to be like this!" she then got up with a glare towards you as she wiped her blood off of her face, and grabbed a hold on her weapon."I don't wanna hurt you! Run! Run away! Far from here! Live a happy and normal life!"
"Oh so i should run? Why not you? Why are you so selfish? I didn't trained for nothing! I rather die tha run away!" she said as she launched forward, as you rolled on the cold ice causing it to break, but you didn't cared as you stabbed her from the side, right into her heart. She dropped her weapon before she turned to you and whispered loudly "It was your fault"
You blinked a few times only to at the place where the innocent people were killed, their bodies turned to you only to whisper out loud tha same word over and over again: "I was your fault" you placed your hands on your ears as you turned around to be meet with your coworkers and your boss dead bodies and they are whispered the same words, again and again, while you dropped to your knees, hands pressed hard against your ears.
You then waked up. It was all just a dream. A bad dream. I just need some fresh air. That's all.
You taked your mask off looking at the night sky, your (e/c) orbs were lit by the moon as you taked deep breath to calm down. You close your eyes as the wind blew your (h/c) Hair, as you opened them again before you spoke softly "Where are you Venator?" but you only the wind blew more. You let out a soft shigh as you turn around and reach for your mask, before you heard a familiar voice.
"I'm always one step ahead, you know?" You heart stop beating for 2 seconds as you placed a hand on your chest, where your heart is "You never fail to give people a heart attack" you said before you made your way towards Venator. "yeah, i know" They said and hold their hand out "Long time no see (Y/n)"
You smirked as you shaked hands with them "Long time no see Venator. Say how's you dragons doing?" you'd ask as their hands slip out of yours "Wyverns, not dragons. They are smaller than dragons, but they are pretty fine i gotta say. All of them hatched now and but not all of them are full grown"
They said, before a little wyvern climbed out of their bag and climbed up on their shoulder. "Sadly while i helped you out, with your 'revaluation' one of my wyvern eggs got crushed and died. And not to mention that the baby wyverns i had that time also died. Now i only have 4 wyverns." They explained.
"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't know that would happen." you said, but Venator don't seem to care that much, their full attention was on that baby wyvern. "This is Hiems. He is an ice wyvern. He hatched a few day ago." They said as they put their palms to the line of the wyverns leg, and it stepped in their palms and and it let out a cute squeak.
They hold the wyvern in front of me. The wyvern had a black white and blue parten, and ice like spikes decorated it's head. As i reached your palm out to let it step on your plam. As it did, it started climbing to your shoulders, as your eyes widen a little. Venator only chuckled before they spoke "Seems like someone likes you."
"Yeah it seems like it." You said. Venator turned around to look at at the door behind them "I see you some found new friends."
"I wouldn't call them friends yet. They are just.. My travelling buddies." you answered rather quickly. Venator turned back to face you once again and whistle. The baby wyvern climbed of off my and back into their bag. "I liked the chat we had (Y/n), but it's time for me to go."
They explained as they turned away from you again to make their way but you haven't seen your good friend for so long, you can't just let them go again. "Wait!" you called out and grabbed their arm only for them to stop and look at you. "Why don't we continue our journey together; you, me, and my travelling buddies?"
Their eyes widen a little and shook their head "(Y/n) you know that i can't let anyone else to know my wyverns existence I-"
"They can keep secrets! Besides you are a demon hunter to right? We have the same tipe of sword! I mean you use a polarm but, it's made out of the same tipe of metal!" Venator looked at the floor "I-I don't know (Y/n)-"
"Please Venator, stay with us!" you look deeply into their eyes "You are the only one i can trust!" you pleaded. They put their hands in a fist as tgey were thinking, then they let out a sharp shigh "Fine. I'll stay." You smiled and hugged them tightly. They slowly hugged you back before you spoke "Thanks."
"You're welcome"
The sunlight shines when the morning breaks, Venator was in your room, quietly and patiently waiting for you and for the boys to came back from breakfast. As you and the others made their way towards the door.
"I want you guys to meet and old freand of mine." you said as you stopped in front of the door. "A friend of yours?" Tanjiro repeated while in the back ground Zenitsu and Inosuke.... Well they are 'enjoying' each other's company.
"Yes, they are waiting for us in this room." You answered as you moved slightly your head to the side to tho two other boys behind you. "And if you both won't stop i make sure you guys go to the same place in the afterlife." and bam they were standing still behind you, waiting for order.
You turned your attention back to the door in front off you, and opened it to reval your friend Venator, who turned their attention to the group of people at the door, and spoke.
"It's nice to finally meet you all in person"
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pixeldolly · 2 years
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List 5 facts about a favourite sim of yours, and send this to 10 simblrs whose sims you adore ♥♥♥
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Argh, I forgot to answer this one! 😩 🤦‍♀️Better late than never, eh?
Moira Compton
She has been named one of the 100 Most Influential Witches of the Past 100 Years.
Although her birth date is no secret, most people are still surprised to find out that she is over 140 years old.
Moira's Hope bears her name, but most inhabitants believe she was named after it.
Moira likes her tea with milk and no sugar; she drinks her coffee black, or sometimes with a bit of cream.
Her first claim to fame was discovering a series of spells which allow for the manipulation of the flow of time - slowing it down, speeding it up, freezing it. She has since made several other notable contributions to the field of temporal magic, though all her attempts at reversing time have failed. She has postulated a theory that time travel into the past is impossible.
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failed221b-chill · 1 year
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Tag game!
Tag 9 people you want to get to know better - tagged by @cendiar <3 whose tag kinda got lost in my notifs, but better late than never, eh?
Three Ships: Ji Chong/Xie Yun (The Wolf crossover pairing with Legend of Fei), Leverage ot3, Nan Xing/Xiao Wudi (Mr Bad - awful name lol, but my new fav tv show that I've rewatched 5 times since discovering it in November).
First Ever Ship: I actually can't remember, sorry. Probably some furbys I wrote fanfic for in my notebooks when I was 9yrs old? Maybe Fry and Leela from Futurama? The parents from The Parent Trap? Anne and Gilbert from Anne of Green Gables? Will/Elizabeth from PoTC?
Last Song: Lian Ai Xiao Shuo - Romance Novel - (Mr Bad OST)
Last Movie: The Old Guard (never seen it before, very much enjoyed!)
Currently Reading: Russian Roulette by Anthony Horrowitz, the Yassen Gregorovich backstory book in the Alex Rider series.
Currently Watching: The Untamed rewatch for the first time in 2 years which may or may not be good for my sanity, Leverage Redemption Season 2
Currently Consuming: My only caffeinated drink for the day, my morning cuppa, tetley tea with soya milk.
Currently Craving: Just finished breakfast so not really craving anything foodwise. So... craving to have finished writing the next chapter of my fic so that I can enjoy reading the next bit of my story.
Tagging: @xerampelinaekiss @annie-of-my-eye @noswordinourlake @whimsyqueen @yibocheeks @beanspirit @reyspacescavenger @neonthoughtsforever @commandershipper
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inwintersolitude · 11 months
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- May 11th 2023 -
How long has it been since you moved out of the house you grew up in? It's been nearly 15 years.
What color shirt are you wearing? Black.
The last time you ate leftovers, what was it that you were eating? Penne pasta with arrabbiata sauce.
What was the last flavor of ice cream you ate? Strawberry.
Do you regret anything you've done in the last 24 hours, and if so, what? Yep. Staying up way too late last night, when I should be trying to shift my sleep schedule earlier for plans on Friday.
What is your favorite type of soup? White bean and vegetable soup, broccoli cheddar soup, minestrone soup, white chicken chili... I have a lot of favorites haha.
When was the last time you saw a beautiful sunset? A few days ago.
What is your favorite song at the moment? No favorite.
What are 5-10 things you love about being you? I'm self-assured, I'm mentally/emotionally stable, I'm intelligent, I have a positive outlook on life, I have an amazing husband, I have a great relationship with my family, I really like where I live, and I have the financial means to live a leisurely life and spend my time on hobbies and personal projects rather than working.
What is your favorite board that you've made on Pinterest? Eh, I don't know, I haven't been on Pinterest in ages. I don't remember what boards I have on there.
Do you get on Facebook or Instagram more? Instagram.
What color is your favorite sweater? Dark gray.
What are three things people would never guess about you just by looking at the photos you post on social media? The photos I post on Instagram are mostly my nature photography and drone photography, occasionally my pet birds - I don't post anything super personal, so there's quite a lot about me that people would never guess just by looking at that.
What is one thing you have too much of? Medical problems lol. Thankfully most of it is minor, but I do have way more diagnoses than anyone in their 30s should have. Migraines, TMJ disorder, hyperacusis, ADHD, scoliosis, blah blah blah.
What was the last thing you ate or drank that was blue raspberry-flavored? I don't remember.
What are three of your favorite scents? Pine forests, the musky scent the woods in this area get after the leaves have fallen in autumn, and whatever they use to scent the spa that I go to during vacations to Hilton Head Island, I don't know what it is but it's heavenly.
What was the last flavor of tea you drank? English breakfast tea.
When was the last time you wore your hair in a fishtail braid? Never.
What is one annoying thing your computer does? It doesn't do anything annoying.
What type of fruit do you eat the most? Lately, I've been eating a lot of blueberries and raspberries.
How often do you go out to eat? About once a week.
What would your dream wedding dress look like? I'm already married. My dress was a strapless A-line gown with pearls and silver threading embroidered around the bust/midriff and down the train. I wouldn't say I ever had a "dream” wedding dress, though. I was never the type to dream about wedding stuff.
Which fall flavor do you prefer: pumpkin spice or apple cinnamon? It depends on what sort of food the flavor is being used in.
What is the most annoying thing about your life right now? My circadian rhythm is completely dysfunctional. But that's nothing new, I've had a messed up circadian rhythm since I was a young child. It's just been really extra messed up lately.
Which holiday treat do you like better: candy corn or conversation hearts? I don't really like either of those.
What is your favorite apple-flavored treat? Apple crisp.
What are you counting down the days to right now, if anything? Our trip to Ireland.
What was the last book you read about? Landscape photography.
Have you been daydreaming a lot lately about a scenario you wish would happen? No.
What are three of your favorite things about camping? Spending time in nature, cooking over a campfire, and tents are cozy lol.
If you could choose what month to be born in, what month would you have chosen as your birth month, and why? Eh, it doesn't really matter to me.
...and what is your actual birth month? January.
What are three of your favorite things to do on a rainy day? Sleep in, have a cup of tea, watch TV/Netflix/Youtube.
Would you rather eat strawberries or watermelon? Watermelon.
Do you prefer smoothies or milkshakes? I prefer homemade smoothies over milkshakes, but I prefer milkshakes over the overly-sugary types of smoothies you get from restaurants/smoothie shops.
Do you prefer hamburgers or hot dogs? Hamburgers.
When was the last time you felt nauseous? A few weeks ago.
What was the last thing you ate that made you feel nauseous? There aren't any foods that make me feel nauseous.
Do you enjoy going to your local county fair? I did when I was a kid. I haven't been to a county fair since then, though.
How far away do you live from the place where you were born? About a 7-hour drive.
Do you prefer zebra print or cheetah print? I don't like any animal prints. Not my style.
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wiildhearrted · 2 years
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♡ | BASICS.
(PEN)NAME: Kristen/Kris/whatever you wanna call me
PROUNOUNS: She/her
ZODIAC SIGN: Virgo
TAKEN OR SINGLE: Taken; poly
TIMEZONE: EST (GMT - 5) I was cst (GMT-6) before the move, so this is taking some getting used to
♡ | THREE FACTS.
I’m very introverted (as I feel like most people on this site are), so I take a while to get to the ‘I’m gonna spam you whenever I want’ stage.  And even then sometimes I don’t bc I’m terrible at remembering to actually message people but IM TRYING TO BE BETTER I PROMISE.
I moved ten hours from home and I’m still in the midwest and tbh it makes me scream.
I love watching playthroughs of horror games, but I’m a big fucking baby and cannot play a horror game.  I’ll never fucking finish it.
♡ | EXPERIENCE.
I’ve been roleplaying for almost ten years on tumblr (April 2013 baybeee).  I got started rping on the big oldies like gaiaonline and msn messenger when I was like, god, ten to twelve? Around there.  I’M OLD AS HELL.  Been writing since I could hold a pencil.
♡  | MUSE PREFERENCE.
Looks at my roster.  Nikki is my oldest muse.  I’ve been writing different versions of her/developing her since I was ten or twelve lmao.  She’s not my very first muse, as I wrote little short stories as a kid, but she’s the one that’s stuck with me the longest.  She’s my baby.  Elivyre is also super fun to write and they’re pretty similar.  I love little shit heads that are pretty confident in themselves/have a cocky nature to them.  It’s so far different from me and it’s so much fun to write.  But I do love writing soft sweethearts like Caleb, too.
♡ | FLUFF // ANGST. // SMUT.
FLUFF.  You wanna see me squeal?  Give me fluff and cute things.  Makes my soft little heart soar.
ANGST.  YOU WANNA HEAR ME SCREAM FOR HOURS??? Give me angst that leads to character development.  I don’t care if it’s positive or negative character development.  Give me the good good hurt/comfort.  
SMUT. Eh?  Some of my muses are horny little shits.  Sometimes I’m in a mood to write smut, or the muses want smut.  I’m very, very rusty writing smut as I never wrote it often or consistently.  It tends to be something that takes me a while to write unless the inspiration really strikes.  I’m more comfortable with fade to blacks, unless the mun is someone I talk to relatively frequently/feel comfortable with.  Smut isn’t completely out of the question, though.
PLOT // MEMES. I enjoy both!  Memes are great to get things started between muses if we’ve never interacted before ic or ooc.  I love good plots, though.  I’m just struggling to come up with any as of late, and I don’t like approaching people to plot without at least something vague in mind to bring to the table.  More often than not, my ‘plotting’ is us telling each other about our muses & how the would react to each other in general or in specific situations.  Sometimes that leads to a spark of inspiration for a specific plot.  Memes are good for the same thing!  If y’all ever see something on my wish list, or have something on your own that you feel would work between muses, feel free to just yeet yourself into my ims and scream.  I’m trying to do the same!
Tagged by: I stole it from @anomalyfated​ Tagging: steal it and say i tagged you!
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doubleddenden · 2 years
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i have watched so many movies lately that i cannot really hope to begin a full review for them for the two people that bother reading them
so instead here's a bunch of short ones. Personal opinions, don't @ me. this is not meant to be taken too seriously. i just like to record my thoughts for later viewing down the road and maybe give a little nudge for friends to watch something i'm watching.
Belle (anime movie):
Beautiful in concept, a little shaky in execution, the ending felt a little too open, but it does give a decent amount of food for thought towards the perception of others, ourselves, internet culture, and society at large. This is also sort of the third in the unofficial trilogy of Mamoru Hasoda reinventing the internet, with the first two being the Digimon Movie (specifically Our War Game) and Summer Wars. 10/10 singing though and 10/10 art direction, 7/10 plot though. Verdict: Watch it, but don't expect to be completely satisfied, and try not to fall too deep into tropes. Do be careful with it as it does have somewhat triggering bits for certain people.
Lupin III the First the Movie:
I was afraid the 3d would ruin it, but it's actually very fun, super stylistic, and I think a fun homage to both Lupin III and Indiana Jones movies and the like. The hyper realistic backgrounds and semi hyper realistic but still cartoonish characters actually work really well, and the action- dare I say- is actually better than the anime. Its not entirely perfect, but its fun enough. I think the only thing it suffers from is that plot sort of happens in convenience to the characters- typical Lupin style though. Still fun, and I actually think it's better than a lot of the Lupin content I've seen in a long wile. 8/10, Jigen is hot in this one wtf
Dragon Ball Super Super Hero:
The movie itself is kinda eh and the 3d looks like a cheaper ArcSys cutscene, but there is heart and fun moments in the movie. Just don't go in expecting 10/10 story telling because the plot is an easy 6. The fights are pretty neat though, the new stuff is cool, and timeline placement is unique for the series. Anything more would spoil things, but its actually pretty funny in unexpected ways. 7/10 Piccolo is the best Uncle Dadpa
One Piece Film Z:
Really fun, and the writing and character design is very consistent with the series as I've been watching so far (i'm keeping up with the Toonami broadcast). Fight scenes are great, art is great, and the rest is about what you expect from One Piece- the added benefit is that the arc is condensed into a movie and doesn't take 5 years to finish. 8/10, Robin rocks hot pants.
One Piece Strong World:
Somehow this movie has even BETTER art direction and world building than Z, and the fight scenes are gorgeous. The plot is kinda eh but I was too distracted by cool monsters and explosions. It's got the art direction of an actual One Piece arc characterwise but the plot of a decent filler arc in a generic anime. I think it might have been better as a game tbh. 8/10 Nami rocks the booty shorts
Blue Exorcist The Movie:
I never really got far in the anime because I couldn't really stand the glasses brother and his buzz kill kind of holier than thou personality, but the world design is still fucking gorgeous, and the movie character Usamaro is adorable. It lacks traditional shounen fight scenes for the most part but makes up for it with chaotic fights against gigantic demons and some pleasant fun bonding time with a little demon boy. What I hate is that the higher ups frame all the good that's done as bad because it inconveniences them in the slightest despite the people Ren and his friend with thick thighs help by just doing the right thing. But the city looks cozy, the food delicious, and the friends kinda wholesome. 7/10, not bad, kinda wanna watch the anime, I just want Usamaro to be happy
I do recommend each of these just for fun. Obviously I'm missing context for some of the anime movies but I'm just here to be entertained, not think too hard
if you have movies you think i'd like, gimme suggestions. I'd prefer something anime based and I'm not really looking for anything too gorey, scary, or the like. I like comedies, shounen type stuff, action, adventure, that kind of stuff.
and again, this is just for fun
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